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my-head-is-an-animal · 1 year

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Happy Wednesday

Chapter 1

You’d worked there for six years, hired straight out of college as a software engineer. You started slowly, but with the help of the gentleman in the cubicle opposite you, soon you were flying. Harold was great, he had a great sense of humour and a peculiar old fashioned sense of care for others. He always held the door for you, asked you how your day was going and never failed to make you smile when you were having a hard time.

You didn’t tell anyone when your birthday was, you disliked the attention, but sitting on your desk in front of your keyboard, was a small, neatly wrapped box. Harold wasn’t sitting in his cubicle, but there was evidence of him having already arrived earlier that morning. He was always there before anyone else, you’d gotten used to it and it became routine, but usually Harold would be sitting waiting with a smile.

You sat down, placing your bag down beside you and taking your coat off to hang on the back of your chair. You were hesitant at first, but quickly dismissed the idea that anything harmful could be within the perfectly wrapped silver package. You pulled the black ribbon and quietly tugged at the paper, trying not to draw any attention.

“I know you hate the attention, so you won’t have to hide this. H.”

You smiled at the note sitting on top of your favourite tea. It made you chuckle to yourself, not quite knowing at what point you’d mentioned your favourite tea to Harold, but glad he remembered.

Just as you were about to get up to find him, a large coffee cup came into view next to you, from the smell it was laced with some kind of vanilla infusion. Harold sipped his own coffee, smirking as he pretended to observe the office.

‘Happy… Wednesday.’ He chose his words carefully, his blue eyes suddenly finding yours with that cheeky sense of humour he had sometimes.

‘Happy Wednesday?’ You frowned, pretending to be oblivious.

‘Wednesdays are sometimes happy days.’ Harold knew your game and was well equipped to play.

‘Thank you.’ You said, quietly and sincerely.

Harold held your gaze for a moment, and for the first time since meeting him, your body felt as if it were buzzing with warmth and excitement. He bowed his head bashfully, before heading back to his own desk to start work for the day.

You took a breath, removed the paper and note placing it in your handbag and made sure your box of sencha green tea was sitting next to your coffee, well within reach while you worked.

Over the course of the day, things got busy. You’d been asked to write more and more code and struggled to keep up. Harold noticed and emailed you some helpful shortcuts to assist with your tasks, but even with his help you knew you’d have to stay late to finish up.

‘G’night, Harold.’ Tina said on her way past your cubicles. You hadn’t realised the time, noting that you’d barely finished your lunch which was basically half a muffin.

‘Good night.’ Harold called after her.

You stretched your neck and realised there was just you, Harold and Dave left in the office. Dave looked to be leaving soon but you were still way behind in your work.

“Need a hand?”

Harold emailed you, he sometimes did that when the office was quiet and you couldn’t speak too much without the whole place listening in. You smiled and typed out a reply.

“It’s okay, it’s just the database I’m trying to code.”

You got back to work, but were immediately interrupted.

‘Hey,’ Dave caught your attention as he was leaving for the night. ‘So, you wanna get a drink? There’s a great curry place just down the road?’

‘Oh,’ it wasn’t the first time Dave had asked you out and you thought it completely inappropriate. ‘Erm, no thanks.’ You turned around to get back to work.

‘Come on, you keep saying no to me.’ Dave pushed.

‘Yeah, that’s because I don’t want to go out with you. I’m sorry.’

‘You’re just saying that, every girl likes to be taken out by the boss at least once. Play your cards right and it’ll be more than once.’

You could feel Dave getting closer behind you and you hated it.

‘Look, I’m not going to say it privately again, next time will be in front of HR.’ You turned your chair and stood up to face him. ‘I don’t want to go out with you.’

Dave looked at you for a moment, unsure about what you were saying. ‘Okay well, maybe next time.’

‘No, Dave, there won’t be a next time because you’re going to stop asking me out.’ You said, firmly, making sure your point was clear.

‘You have a boyfriend already.’ He said it as if it were suddenly obvious and you hated it.

‘It’s none of your business.’

‘No, it’s cool. I would never take another man’s girl.’

Dave smiled almost pleasantly and finally left, you were certain he hadn’t even noticed that Harold was still sitting at his desk opposite yours. He was good at blending into the background, but surely Dave wasn’t that stupid.

You took a stuttered breath, trying not to hate everything about yourself, you couldn’t let that guy get to you this way.

‘Do you…’

You jumped, finding Harold had stood up and come around to the side of the partition.

‘Sorry.’ Harold closed his eyes, hating he’d scared you. ‘I’m sorry. I was just going to ask if you needed my help.’

You quickly swiped at the tears that had almost fallen and tried to steady your breathing, running your hands over your grey work dress to smooth it out after being creased all day.

‘It’s alright, it won’t take me long to finish the code.’ You said and sat back down.

Harold hadn’t moved and you were at risk of breaking.

‘I wasn’t just talking about work.’ He said, gently. ‘If you want to go to HR, I’ll happily be your witness, I know this isn’t the first time he’s made you feel uncomfortable… or if you’re hungry, I could help by getting something brought up?… or if you just want to sit quietly for a while, I can do that as well.’

You looked up from your computer at the white wall of the corridor. What was it about Harold that just made everything seem so much better? You turned your chair to face him.

‘Why are you still here?’ You asked. ‘You always finish your work before me.’

‘Because…’ he took a moment to choose his words carefully. ‘Wednesdays,’ that made you chuckled slightly. ‘Should not be spent alone doing work that we both know doesn’t really matter.’

Harold smiled at you as you bit your lip to stop either a laugh or a cry from emerging.

‘Wednesdays.’ You mused. ‘Some day.’

‘They don’t happen often,’ he said. ‘Just once a week.’

You covered your face to stop him seeing your ugly crying laughing face, you hated it, but Harold didn’t seem to mind.

‘Yeah.’ You nodded, breathing deeply. ‘I’ve honestly nearly finished.’

‘Okay, how about a deal then?’ Harold offered and it got you curious. ‘If you finish in the next twenty minutes, I promise I will go home as well.’

You chuckled, half expecting something else, but also knowing that Harold had higher standards than that.

‘Okay.’ You agreed.

You managed to finish in just under twenty minutes and Harold congratulated you on the achievement.

‘Thank you, thank you, I’ll, unfortunately, be here all week.’ You laughed.

‘As will I.’ Harold stood putting his jacket on and shutting down his computer.

You admired Harold in so many ways, not least of all his amazing suits, the brown one and green ones being among your favourites. He was a surprisingly fashionable man and you suspected a generally surprising man.

‘What?’ Harold caught you staring at him. It made your cheeks heat up immediately.

‘Nothing.’ You cleared your throat and gathered your things.

‘Okay.’ He didn’t seem convinced, but didn’t push the subject. ‘You mind if I walk with you to the elevator?’

You smiled, tying your coat ties around your waist to protect yourself from the New York air. ‘Never.’

You liked to see Harold smiling, it didn’t happen as often as people expected, generally a quiet and private individual, he rarely took part in social activities, but when you made him laugh, it was one of the best feelings in the world.

‘Your mood seems to have improved.’ Harold commented as you waited for the elevator to arrive.

‘Mmm,’ you nodded. ‘Must be the company.’

You both stepped inside and you caught Harold smiling to himself. It was quiet for a while.

‘So, why did you stay late today?’ You asked, hoping you’d get a straight answer this time.

It took until you reached the lobby of the building for Harold to answer.

‘I had a plan actually.’ He said, you slowed to walk next to him, feeling the cool night air hit you as you both stepped out. ‘I was…’ he suddenly seemed nervous. ‘I’ve wanted to ask you to dinner for quite some time… I happened to find out when your birthday was so I decided it would be a good opportunity to ask. I know you hate your birthday and I now realise that if you said no, it might just end up being another reason you dislike it so much. But if it was just another Wednesday, maybe you’d forget.’ He chuckled to himself, not really able to make eye contact with you. ‘Given what happened tonight, I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to follow through on my plan, I don’t want to upset you for any reason. I stayed late because I was building up the courage, but maybe… I don’t know.’

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, Harold actually had a plan to ask you to dinner, he was going to ask you out. You hadn’t really ever acknowledged how much the idea excited you, but suddenly the hurt of him not following through on his plan, hit home.

‘You’re crying.’ Harold sounded distraught, you hadn’t even realised you’d let a few tears go. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I never wanted to upset you.’

He took a step towards you, but quickly stepped back putting that distance between you again and you suddenly despised it.

‘Harold.’ You croaked, knowing your makeup had run down your cheeks and you probably looked a wreck, but he didn’t seem to care. ‘I’m crying because you didn’t get to follow through on your plan.’

You watched as his blue eyes lit up and connected with yours. Realisation hit him.

‘There’s always another Wednesday.’ Harold chuckled, making you laugh as well.

‘Yes, there is.’

‘Would you mind if I requested something?’ Harold’s eyebrows knitted together slightly. ‘You told me once that you don’t live in the best end of town, can I at least walk you home?’

Once again, you found yourself laughing with Harold. You nodded and on the way he helped you take away the dark smudges where your tears had stained your face. More importantly, Harold made you laugh about trivial things, he didn’t gossip or talk about anyone in the office, but he made jokes that were reserved for the two of you, jokes you’d remember for a long time, like Wednesdays.

Harold was the perfect gentleman, he didn’t once presume anything, he didn’t try anything on, he simply walked you to your building door and said goodnight, you were half expecting him to peck your check, but he wasn’t presumptuous that way.

‘I want you to know something.’ Harold said as you were about to say goodbye. There was a hint of something you’d never seen before in his eyes. ‘If you ever need help, you can always ask me. I’ll always be there and that’s not something I promise lightly.’

You watched the unrecognisable glint disappear and be replaced by an easy smile.

‘Thank you, Harold.’ Your smile formed naturally, and you couldn’t shake it from your face for the rest of the night.

You were looking forward to the following day.

(Chapter link)

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

#harold finch x reader #harold finch fic #harold finch #person of interest

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blackfilmmakers · 3 years

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Here are my thoughts of Pixar’s latest animated release “Soul”:

📢 Spoilers 📢

Things I enjoyed:

-Angela Bassett

-Music(when there was music at least)

-Designs of the human characters

-Pretty animation which is to be expected out of Pixar

-The set design of New York

-Pretty good message a lot of us could relate to

Things I didn’t enjoy:

-The designs of the souls

-The lore behind the pre-soul realm or whatever. It wasn’t all too fascinating. Feel like I’ve seen a better understanding of one’s personality through uquizzes and Sims

-The design of the pre-soul realm was also lacking. Felt pretty restrictive.

-Disney and Pixar really need to start leaving their main Black characters alone and just let them be human. Which btw, a lot of yall out here are convincing folks that Joe was human for most of the movie when that's not even true he was a cat. I ended up watching this with high hopes, because you guys convinced me that he stays as a human for most of the film instead of a soul. Imagine my disappointment when I see the Black character ends up as an animal

-The idea that this body swap thing made it where a White woman voiced a Black character and the Black character was an animal? That alone gave me a headache

-I got lost with the direction of this movie. First it was an escape from the afterlife story, then it became a body swap comedy half way through? Along with the other b-stories, it was just hard to pinpoint the overall narrative

-They downplayed a lot of aspects of African-American culture including soul music which at this point I don't think they even had soul music in mind

-Making the Black mama out to be the unsupportive bad person in all this. It's not extreme but regardless, she was still painted in a negative depiction. She was literally the only one that had to struggle to put bread on the table for her family all because the husband wanted to follow his music dream. But apparently she’s the villain here for wanting her son to have a stable financial future before she passes?

-Tina Fey

-Jamie Foxx. I just don’t like the dude

-The ending

-Somewhat came off as a magical negro story. Having the Black guy teach the White-coded character why life is worth living all while in the body of a cat. And then to literally see 22 run off with his body? Not a good vibe. And don’t come at me with the “22 was just a soul with no body, how are they White” because 1)I’m already seeing y’all draw them as a White person and 2)Learn how coding works

-They actually killed the cat which uh........damn

------------------------------------------------

If it wasn’t obvious enough looking at my “Things I enjoyed” list vs my “Things I didn’t enjoy” list, I did not like the movie. For me it served as a cash grab for a Black audience and simply did not amaze me. Know that I'm not looking for the next Black Panther here, but if you're gonna promote yourself as a film centered around Black culture, it helps to actually have a bunch of Black people work on the project. Which they didn't have.

There are some Black people that liked it. There are some that hated it. There are some who liked it but wish it didn't contain these tropes. We aren't a monolith but regardless don't be out here trying to dismiss these issues because you weren't personally offended by it. This especially goes out for nonBlack people too, I really don't want yall telling me how I should be grateful for what the movie showed or didn't.

Like I said before, for a movie titled “Soul” it was actually pretty soulless

#soul #disney soul #review #spoilers #long story short: i was unimpressed #pixar soul

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

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Ash and Dust Part 7- Opportunities

18+ Dabi x fem!reader

Summary: You first meet Dabi on the worst night of your life after unwittingly walking into the very bar the League of Villains made infamous. That should probably be the end of the story. You stumble on the remnants of one of the most infamous terrorist groups in the history of Japan, get viciously murdered or call the cops and get them arrested, the end. Except that’s not the end of the story. It’s only the beginning.

Masterlist Help Lulu (Kofi)

Waking up the morning after reclaiming your bedroom (at least in part) is jarring for two reasons.

The first is that you’re waking up next to Dabi.

For some reason you thought he might wake up before you, even though he’s pretty routinely demonstrated that he’s not an early riser. Perhaps you expected the knowledge that he was sleeping in the same bed as you to perturb him enough to get him up early. Instead your eyelashes had fluttered open to find him still deeply asleep with his face only a few inches from yours.

You fully intended on simply rolling over to either fall back asleep or get on with your day but you’d found yourself enthralled with his sleeping face instead. You know Dabi’s smirks, sneers, and scowls like the back of your hand after a little over a month of living with him. His resting face, however, is entirely foreign to you. You’ve never had a moment alone with him where he wasn’t antagonizing you and it’s odd to see him so peaceful. Your eyes trace over his face, taking in the extent of the scarring on his jaw and beneath his eyes, but also appreciating the unmarred expanses of skin as well. It strikes you that Dabi is pretty. It shouldn’t be surprising considering what you’ve seen of the youngest Todoroki in the press but even still. In another world where he’d never become the wanted criminal he is today, you wonder if he’d be a heartbreaker or a sweet, gentle type. Would he be as quiet and polite as his brother seems to be or would he still get a thrill from bantering with someone who isn’t afraid to banter right back? Would he be in the tabloids with a different girl every week or settle down early with his high school sweetheart? You’re fascinated by the idea of what the scarred man before you would be without the tragedy and the trauma. You might’ve sat there just taking him in until he woke up if not for the second reason waking up that morning was so jarring.

Your phone has been pinging literally non-stop.

You’ve never resented your notification sound more as its shrill tone continues to echo in your room, putting the fragile peace at risk. Even before you found yourself as alone as you are now your phone was never this busy. As much as you try to ignore it and wait for the tidal wave of what you assume are spam notifications to end, the sound finally drives you to turn over and grab it. Your eyes widen as you take in the sheer amount of Twitter notifications you have. As you unlock your phone and navigate over to the app your mentions are literally flooded with Deku fans screaming about your talent and how lucky you are. It’s a confusing litany of fangirling that you try to weed through until you get to one mention in particular that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You got a mention from the rising hero himself.

Holy shit.

You’ve never clicked a tweet so quickly in your entire life. Not only are you stunned to find he’s seen and loved your work but he also mentions wanting to talk if you’re interested. Sure enough, when you navigate over to the messages section of the app, a feature you’ve never bothered to use, you notice a message request from Midoriya ‘Deku’ Izuku waiting for you. It takes everything in you not to scream as you read the message there over and over before finally hopping out of bed and moving to the kitchen to call the number he’d left you. It’s a little endearing that he’d been so quick to hand out his number to a complete stranger on the internet but you also can’t help but wonder how someone so naive could be the same man drawing headlines over his heroics and combat skill. You’re not exactly a Deku fangirl but it’s still wild to be dialing a celebrity’s number as you punch in the numbers and then wait for it to ring.

On literally the second ring the phone is answered. “Pro Hero Deku at your service! Who’s calling?” the young man answers chirpily. “Uhh, this is (y/l/n)? You messaged me on twitter?” “Oh! Right! Yes! Hello! One second!”

You can hear Deku excusing himself from whatever room he’s in, a disgruntled voice mumbling something you can’t hear, causing Deku to reply with a hushed “Sorry Kacchan! I’ll be right back!” before there’s more shuffling and finally the sound of a heavy door closing.

“Ok I’m back! Thanks for reaching out to me so quickly!” he finally says now that he’s, apparently, in a better place to talk.

“Yea, of course I guess I’m just shocked you liked my art so much and really appreciate you drawing so much attention to it,” you explain, feeling short of breath at how surreal the situation is.

“Of course! You’re really talented! Your work deserves to get attention!”

“Thank you but, uh, why exactly did you want me to call you?”

“Right! It’s about your artwork.”

“Ok?”

“I want to sell it!”

“What?”

“Wait well no not sell it. Or not sell that particular piece although it is a nice piece and if you wanted to theoretically you could probably sell it although I guess it’s available for free online already so maybe people wouldn’t want to pay for it. Although it’s a painting right? And people buy or pay to go see paintings you can see online all the time so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad but if it’s for your own enjoyment you may not want to give it up which would be totally understandable and also how would that work logistically? If the painting is rather large it may be unwieldy to try and ship it to whoever purchases it, in which case would you have to meet up to try and give it to them by hand? But then that necessitates meeting up with a complete stranger on the internet and what if the person who buys it doesn’t live near you or, since it is the internet, doesn’t even live in Japan? Then you have to contend with international shipping and-”

“Uhh, Deku?” you ask cautiously, barely able to process the mumbling of the young man on the phone.

“Ah! Sorry! I can kinda end up on tangents sometimes... What I mean to say is that I’m not trying to sell the painting you posted or anything but I think you’re really talented as an artist and one of my friends is looking for someone to design a new merch collection.”

One of his friends? Your mind instantly starts running through his impressive list of ex classmates. Your first thought is Dynamight and immediately you shudder at the idea. He may be years younger than you but the aggressive pro hero still scares the shit out of you. Uravity could be an interesting hero to work with although you’re not quite sure you vibe with her aesthetic. Or maybe he’s talking about the new Ingenium?

“You’re real fucking loud in the mornings, you know that Doll?” Dabi asks with a groan as he comes walking into the room with a stretch.

You hurry to shush him, not wanting to lose the opportunity being presented to you, which earns you a curious look. Before you can react Dabi is snatching your phone out of your hand and putting it on speaker. You don’t dare protest verbally and risk alerting Deku of the situation so you have to settle for glaring at Dabi as he smirks at you.

“Yea so, anyway, Shouto really needs new merch but wanted something a little more sophisticated on the designs and I feel like you’d be perfect for that you know? Making all his stuff mini works of art. So what do you say?” Deku asks, his voice still brimming with that same enthusiasm while your blood runs cold. You’re genuinely scared to look up at Dabi’s face to see what he thinks about the idea of you working with his little brother. You hold your breath, Deku’s chipper voice going nervous as he asks “Hello? You still there?”

To your immense surprise, when you finally have the courage to bring your eyes up to meet Dabi’s, he’s got an almost feral grin. “You better take the fucking job,” he hisses delightedly, sending a chill down your spine as you stutter out a response to Deku, your eyes never leaving Dabi’s.

“Yea, sorry just processing. I’d, uh, I’d be happy to help out.”

“Great! I’ll pass your number on to Shouto and you two can meet up and figure out details!”

“Ok.”

“Cool, thanks (y/l/n)! Hopefully I’ll see you around!”

You hum noncommittally before hanging up the phone, still waiting for the other shoe to drop as you practically watch the gears turning in Dabi’s head.

“You’re…. Not mad I’m going to be working with your brother?” you ask cautiously.

“Oh no, I’m fucking delighted Doll. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re gonna help me have a little fun.”

A/N: We are finally starting to get to the meat of the story omg. I’m sorry this fic has been so slow going, especially compared to my others, but if you stick with I’m pretty sure it’ll be worth it. I appreciate each and every one of y’all that’s been reading this fic because main motivation to write it has been hard

Taglist: @thechroniclesofawriter @simpsfortodoroki @ahtsuwu @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @tina-98 @vibesdontlie @clubfairy

#hopelessad #dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x fem!reader #touya todoroki #touya x y/n #touya x fem!reader

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theoneforwriting · 3 years

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To Live Is To Die

Chapter 1: It’s warm but oh so cold

Hank and Connor had been called into the station on their day off making it even harder for Connor to get Hank to wake up on time.

The whole drive there was Hank grumbling and randomly smacking the wheel for emphasis. Overall Connor believes the morning could have gone worse.

“I just don’t understand why just because a God damn spaceship has to show up in New York then that means we have to show up too.” Hank had finally gotten over his morning haze and his complaints were becoming coherent.

“It’s to make Detroit feel safer.” Connor explained as he held the door of the station open for Hank.

“Safe my ass why can’t I feel safe at home in my own bed asleep!”

“For once I agree with you.” Gavin chimed in as they walked past his desk.

“Geez Gavin you look like shit.”

“Thanks it’s not like I haven’t gotten any sleep.” He sassed back.

“My scanner indicates that you are experiencing anxiety, I recommend a humidifier using a Lavender scented oil.” Connor suggested looking concerned.

“Just get off my back and go be a good robo cop.” He grumbled turning his back away to stare at his computer.

“Alright c’mon kid.” Hank told while bumping Connor with his shoulder.

The following hours felt ridiculously slow.

Aliens show up and suddenly nobody wants to be out and about, which honestly Connor doesn’t blame anyone for.

He’s read about the Chitauri invasion and how gruesome it was. New York residents using anything as a weapon in order to not to be spiked like a kabob.

“Lieutenant.”

“Mhm?”

“You were around for the Chitauri correct?”

Hank let out a deep sigh. He eyed Connor over the coffee cup while taking a big sip. After setting it back down he finally answered.

“Connor this is nothing like that, I promise everythings gonna be fine. Now you can just ignore the fancy numbers you have buzzin around in there and tell me what you have planned for Sumo.”

Connor’s eyes seemed to light up at the mention of his over the top sewing project.

“I was trying to figure out formal wear and whether or not he will look better with coattails,”

Hank nodded along to Connor’s words with a slight smile on his face.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that the DPD was really bustling with people.

Tina had wondered over to the Anderson’s desks at some point. Connor and her soon started striking up some small talk.

That is until Connor revealed his sewing extravaganza to her.

“Connor!” She exclaimed looking at the plans “It’s all so cute!”

Connor could feel the blush hiding beneath his collar.

“Ah, thank you Officer Chen.”

“No need to be so formal I’m just Tina to you.”

“Well if you two are going to keep talking about all that I’m getting some coffee.” Hank eased himself out the chair and started for the break room.

“Didn’t we just get off of lunch break though.” Tina teased.

“Is that not your third cup Lieutenant?” Connor asked joining in on the fun.

All they got back as a response was the bird from Hank.

A bout of laugher rose up between the two drawing over Officers Miller and Person.

Conversation started and topics bounced from person to person.

“Honestly Chris I still can’t believe you thought a mail box was a good idea.” Miller said in disbelief.

“Hey now, that’s Officer Chris to you.”

“I still find it hard to believe that-“ Connor stopped halfway through. His led starting to flash a steady yellow.

“Connor?” Chen asked face laced with concern.

“Did we get a new report?” Person asked with some dread.

“No it’s not that, but something is wrong...”

Connor’s train of thought was derailed from a spam of messages from other androids he knew. The one sticking out to him the most being Kara’s.

“Connor, Alice isn’t feeling well and Luther doesn’t either and I’m getting a ton of messages from-“ Error: Connection disrupted.

“It’s not just me.” Connor spoke.

“What do you mean it’s not just you?” Person was getting more concerned.

“No I feel it too, some sort of bad feeling.” Miller said.

“That’s not how it works” Person said.

In exactly ten seconds Person ate his words. Connor keeled over with a gasp.

“Connor!” All three of them shouted. This drew attention from other officers around the DPD. Some looked like they were about to rush over when suddenly a ST300 started to lean on the wall for support.

“Connor- “

“Hey-”

“What- going on?”

All his senses were screaming. A low burning seemed to be starting in his chest. Can androids have heartburn? Is this what heartburn is like? Connor was pretty sure a heartburn stays in the chest. His limbs felt like the fire was spreading to them.

“Hank.” Was all he could choke out.

“Someone-over.”

A hand grabbed his shoulder. At this point the burning felt like a warm version of your hand falling alseep.

“Connor, Connor I’m here.”

“Hank?”

“That’s right I’m here son.”

“I am sorry.”

“No no save your breath your help will be here soon and-“

“I wanted to live more.”

Hank froze.

“It’s not fair.” Connor continued.

“Don’t talk like that you are going to live more, you are going to stuff me and Sumo in the matching PJs you made, I’m going to convince you to finally try that blue ice cream.”

“Thirium synthetic ice cream.”

“God kid even when sick you’re correcting me.” Hank chuckled, as if we was trying to lighten the mood.

Connor tried to find a sense of where his hands exactly were. Once he was positive he had his arms looped around Hank he squeezed as hard as he could.

Hank hugged him back.

“I love you Dad.”

“I love you too Son.”

Soon Connor felt nothing but the warm buzz that was more like a hot fuzzy blanket now.

“I had so much to live for.” Connor thought.

“So much I could have died for.”

“At least I got to live it with Hank.”

Chapter 2

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bosspigeon · 3 years

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one for sorrow

Pairing: Gen, M!Detective/Mason Word Count: 3483 Summary: Juniper Fenn reflects on memories, nursery rhymes, loneliness, and wanting to be wanted.

Just a little (uh... kinda big, actually?) character study for my soft boy, Juni! It wound up a lot more emotional than I originally intended, but I like having this insight into his character.

CW for (implied) deadnaming, misgendering, coming out, and in the last portion a non-graphic post-sex scene with some allusions to said sex ahfdsjh.

One for sorrow, two for joy.

He thought the needle would hurt more than it did. He closes his eyes and looks away, and the artist gives him the hairy eyeball when he clutches at Tina’s knee, like she’s afraid he’ll jump off the bench and bolt for the door. He wants to ask if that’s happened before, but he thinks he’s made enough of a fool of himself so far.

“You sure you’re good?” she asks, giving him an out. Somehow, that just strengthens his resolve.

He takes a slow breath and nods, closing his eyes.

He hears the buzzing, and when the machine first touches skin, he almost jumps, but he’s more worried about looking like more of a baby than he already does than he is startled, so he bites his lips and forces himself to holds still. And it does hurt, but not like he thought it would. He squints one eye open to watch the progress of the first line over his skin. He expects to be repulsed, like when he’s having bloodwork done, and he has to look away from the needle going into his arm. But this is different, somehow. Doesn’t make his stomach turn.

“This is the quietest I’ve ever seen you,” Tina teases, when the first wing has taken shape. He almost jumps again, but he manages to contain it to a twitch. He’s going to tip the artist as much as he’s able after this is done, just for dealing with someone as fidgety as him.

He chews at his lip. “It’s… I dunno. I wouldn’t say it feels good, but it’s kind of soothing, in a weird way?”

She leans over, watching, and the artist gives her a bit of a look, so she backs up again. “Have you told your mum?” she asks.

He snorts out a laugh and looks away, back at the stencil on his arm that will soon be filled in with black feathers and ringed with flowers. “Of course not. She’d probably kill me.”

“She doesn’t like tattoos?” Tina tilts her head, watching his face like she’s waiting for him to start whining about how it hurts. She’s always been the tougher of the two of them, and he’s got no illusions about that, so he’s sort of proud of himself for keeping his cool—as much as he’s got anyway.

He shrugs the arm that’s not under the machine, and wonders when he’ll get his next tattoo. He’s already got ideas for more, and knowing that it’s not so bad as he was worried it would be is exciting. Not to mention, it’s something that’s just for him. Not for anyone else. He’s… never really done anything like this before. “I don’t know what she likes, but I doubt she’d approve.”

She sucks her teeth and he squeezes her knee again when she gives him that soft, sad look she sometimes does when his mum comes up in conversation. “What’s it going to be?” she asks suddenly. Tina’s a good friend, changing the subject before he can get moody about it.

“A magpie,” he says softly, looking back down to watch the lone bird slowly taking shape on his skin.

Three for a girl, four for a boy.

He asks what happened to all the pretty paintings around the house when he’s ten, because they disappear sometime after one of Mum’s visits, when she seemed more distant than usual. Maybe she hopes he won’t notice, but he misses them immediately. The house is too bare without them, it feels so lonely. It’s always been lonely, ever since Dad passed, but the bare walls make it even lonelier. Mum brushes it off, of course. He’s used to it at this point, so he doesn’t push her, but he’s also stubborn, so he goes looking. He’s even more determined when she tries to shut him up by replacing them all with clean, impersonal prints in neat little frames. He finds them in the attic, tucked away in a box, each one slipped carefully into a protective sleeve or folder and wrapped in tissue paper. He finds a dreamy matted watercolor of him as a baby, fat and freckly and smiling with no teeth, and he has to take a minute to sit down and cry as quietly as possible before he can start going through the rest. There’s a folder of scrawled pencil portraits, too. He finds one of Mum sitting on a pier, peeking back over her shoulder with her hair blowing in the wind. She’s smiling. He can’t remember the last time he saw her smile.

There’s a self portrait that makes him laugh through his tears, because the reflective surface Dad seems to have used as his mirror is a Christmas ornament, so his face is distorted, one eye huge, his tongue out, drawing himself drawing. He keeps that one for sure, and a few of the other ones he thinks he can get away with. An oil pastel of a wooden swing dripping with honeysuckle, a colored pencil drawing of the library, a few studies of people and plants and animals, and another watercolor of the three magpies, sitting in a juniper tree.

There are three magpies painted on his bedroom wall, from back when it was his nursery. Dad painted them right after he was born, before they brought him home from the hospital. They’d waited until he arrived to know what his gender would be. Of course, he went and messed that up, like he did most things. Sometimes he wonders if Dad would be disappointed, or if he’d think it was funny.

They used to be above his crib, and then his bed when he outgrew that, but he moves his bed to the opposite side of his room when he’s fourteen, and covers them with a poster. He thinks for sure Mum’s going to give him an earful about it, but he’s surprised she hasn’t tried to cover them up herself. He supposes it’s not really an issue, since when she is home, it’s not like she spends any time in his bedroom.

And then he's sixteen, and he’s been practicing his watercolor for years at this point. Sometimes, he creeps into the attic when he’s got the house to himself, rifles through Dad’s paintings, studies his style for as long as he can. He’s been old enough not to need a proper nanny for years now, though someone comes to check up on him frequently and make sure he’s got food and necessities, but beyond that he’s got plenty of time alone. He sits in the attic until he's sore from the wooden floor, trying to think of how Dad’s hands might have looked while he worked, the speed and angle of his brush strokes. He doesn’t think he can find anything new at this point, as many times as he’s snuck up here to look at Dad’s work, but out of the blue, he finds what might have been a really nice landscape, if it weren’t marred by fat little handprints in bright yellow and green, as if he’d smeared his hands across the palette the second Da took his eyes off it, and slapped them down in the middle of the paper. He comes back to it a lot, when he spends time in the attic, because when he looks at it, he swears he can hear what he imagines Dad’s laugh sounded like, his voice calling him a little menace with all the fondness in the world.

And then he’s eighteen, and he’s alone on his birthday. Mum calls, tells him she loves him and she would come and visit him later on, so they could do something together, but she couldn’t take the day off. She tells him how proud she is of her daughter being all grown up, and he winces, but keeps his mouth shut.

And then he maybe gets a little bit drunk, drags out his paints and brushes, rifles through the portfolio hidden carefully in the back of his closet, and finds the painting with the juniper tree and the three magpies

He takes another shot to steady his nerves, and paints in a fourth.

Five for silver, six for gold.

He shouldn’t be surprised Mum doesn't come to his graduation, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. She’s busy, she’s always been busy, she’s been busy since he was a toddler.

He was stupid to believe anything he did would be important enough for her to bother with. To believe that he could matter to anyone enough.

Tina’s stepmum had more foresight than he did, inviting him along to her and Tina’s celebration dinner at a fancy restaurant out of town, and he has to take a minute to cry in the bathroom after they proudly present him with a messily wrapped gift and a card that practically explodes with glitter when he open it, but he can’t even pretend to be annoyed because it has his name in it, and while he's trying very hard not to break down crying in public, Tina hugs him so tightly his spine creaks and tells him she couldn’t have wished for a better brother.

When they drop him off at home, his eyes are still red and a bit wet, he’s full of good food and affection, and he’s smiling like an idiot in spite of the fact that he can’t stop sniffling. The heavy sterling silver magpie skull charm rests against his collarbone, the weight comforting in a way he can’t hope to put into words. He'll never forget Tina’s dewy, smiling eyes as she clasped it around his neck and told him proudly, “Now you’ve got two.'"

He falls into bed holding the charm, reluctant to take it off, but knowing he should put it somewhere safe before bed. He exhales a happy sigh, laughing a bit wetly to himself.

And then his phone vibrates in the pocket of his slacks, and his heart seizes in his chest.

He doesn’t have to check the ID to know who it is. Nobody ever calls him, and his eyes flicker anxiously to the pressed dress in its plastic garment bag still hanging untouched on the back of his closet door. He’d given Tina the expensive name-brand heels for her own graduation outfit, because even if he did want them, he couldn’t walk in the damn things anyway. Lucky for him, they wear the same size shoe.

He takes a moment to calm his breathing, but that means he has to fumble to answer the call before it ends, and he winces when he sees two more missed calls in his log. “Mum!” he blurts, his voice instinctively pitching higher. “Hi! How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she tells him easily. “I’m sorry again I couldn’t make it today. There was a—”

“A big project, I know,” he finishes. It’s always a project, or a trip, or a meeting. The details are always scant, but Mum knows how to make it sound big and important and in need of her attention. He’s tried not to be bitter about it, but there’s always been a part of him that wishes, for once, she’d decide he was important enough to need her attention. “It’s okay, Mum.” It’s not, it never was, but it would be selfish of him to tell her that. She’s got enough to worry about.

“Well, I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten, so I had a gift delivered. It should have arrived today.”

He bites back a sigh. He wonders if it would be easier if she had just forgotten. If it would hurt less than knowing she always made the decision not to see him. “Oh, I’ll go check!” he blurts, trying to inject as much enthusiasm into his voice as possible. He rolls out of bed and heads for the door, poking out to check the mailbox. Of course, inside there is a slim, rectangular package, wrapped in tidy brown paper. The address and names are printed on stickers.

He takes it inside with the phone tucked against his shoulder, weighing the box in his hands. It’s light, and he wants to be excited about whatever it is, but he’s suddenly drained from the day, from crying and laughing and crying some more.

The dining room, somehow, has always felt more lonely than anywhere else in the house, and he’s never been able to figure out why, but he puts the package on the table and starts picking at the neat wrapping. Mum is quiet on the other end of the phone, waiting, and Juni wants to break the odd silence, but can’t even begin to think of what to say. He wishes he didn’t bite his nails, because it takes him way too long to break into the pristine paper, and inside is a long red jewelry box. When he lifts the lid, there is a delicate gold necklace resting on a soft velvet pad, understated and objectively lovely, if not really his style, but it’s the note that flutters out of the box that catches his attention. His eyes skim the note, expecting her usual platitudes that he sometimes wonders if she has someone else type for her.

I am so proud of the woman you’ve become.

His breath leaves him in a painful, strangled rush, his lungs squeezing tight in his chest. And before Mum can speak, he blurts "I can't take this," trailed by a ragged sob.

“Of course you can,” she says gently, kindly. “I know how you get about expensive gifts, but really, it’s no trouble—”

His head fills with screaming static when she calls him what she’s always called him, what she doesn’t know better than to call him, because he’s never told her. He’s never had the chance, it’s never been the right time, it felt wrong not to do it in person, but whenever he sees her in person he feels like he shouldn’t waste the time with her by bringing up something so…

“My name is Juniper!” It explodes out of him, louder than he’s ever been with her, and it stuns her into silence. “I’m not your daughter!” he cries desperately, “I’m your son. You can’t be proud of the woman I’ve become, because I’m not a woman!” He sounds insane, he knows he does, shrill and frantic, but his heart is hammering so hard he feels dizzy, the walls are yawning wide around him, the dining room feels huge and so empty and so bleak. He’s never felt more alone in this dark, quiet house he’s spent his entire life rattling around in than he does in this exact moment, and it’s suffocating. His phone drops from shaking fingers onto the floor, and he drops with it, curling into a ball and struggling to remember how to breathe, dizzily hoping he won’t need to go scrambling for his inhaler. His fingers clench so tightly around the heavy silver charm he’s almost worried he’s going to snap the simple leather cord, but he needs to ground himself or he feels like he’ll dissolve entirely.

He hears Mum calling the name that’s not his, and when he finally manages to fumble his phone with nerveless fingers, he winces seeing the screen is cracked. “I’m sorry,” he sobs weakly, his eyes burning with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He can’t even be sure what he’s apologizing for, but he knows he has to, especially when he slams the end call button and buries his face in his knees so he can cry alone in the dark.

Seven for a secret, never to be told.

Juni’s skin is starting to get clammy, but he’s too comfortable to move. Eventually, he’s going to have to, if for nothing else than to get up and get cleaned up, but for now, he’s happy, if a little chilly. He nuzzles into the soft curls dusted across Mason’s chest, and lets his eyelids fall to half-mast, just open enough to absently count the freckles hidden under the chest hair, inevitably lose count, and start counting again. Mason smells good, cooling sweat and sandalwood, and dozy as he is, it takes a moment for Juni to realize he doesn’t really smell like smoke at all anymore. His room doesn’t smell lke smoke, either, he realizes. His heart thuds hard behind his ribs.

He gets distracted when a shiver rolls over him, the chill suddenly overwhelming against his sticky skin, and he curls further into Mason’s chest in an attempt to leach some of his warmth.

Mason clicks his tongue, and Juni’s whole body stiffens, worry zinging into his gut to rattle around there like a bird in a too-small cage. Mason shifts underneath him, and he starts to roll away, to apologize, to get out of his hair, before a strong hand clasps the back of his neck.

“Hold still,” Mason grunts, sitting up and patting around for the edge of the blanket. He pulls it out from under them both, which almost sends the detective rolling off the bed against his will this time, but Mason's hand shifts down to spread across his lower back and hold him steady until he can get them both tucked underneath.

He flops back against the pillows again, one arm tucked under his head and the other loose at his side, and slowly, cautiously, Juni crawls his way under it. The hand lands on his hip and squeezes, and Juni settles his head back on the vampire’s chest just in time to hear the pleased little rumble there. He flushes down to his chest and bites his lip, distracting himself by petting at Mason’s chest hair.

And then he pokes his flat, brown nipple and says, “Boop!” on some stupid impulse, and giggles like an idiot.

Mason scoffs and rolls his eyes, but shifts so that Juni’s thigh hitches up over his. “Keep that up, sweetheart, and we’ll be going into round two sooner rather than later.” Juni can feel the truth in that statement against his thigh, and he blushes so hotly he knows Mason can feel it at every point their bodies are touching. He might be approaching supernova levels of heat when Mason smugly adds, “Well, round two for me. Three for you.”

He hides his face in Mason’s chest with a long groan. “I’m going to explode,” he declares. “I’m going to collapse like a dying star.”

Mason laughs, sharp and startled and shockingly bright, and Juni’s head shoots up so he can see his face. His hair is a mess, but of course it still looks amazing, hanging around his face in loose, sweat-damp spirals. His vulpine grey eyes are crinkling at the corners, even his sharp nose wrinkling in a way that makes Juni’s heart almost stop. And his mouth, usually either pinned into a scowl, or twisted into a sly (and stupidly attractive) smirk, is curled into a smile, breathtaking in its open softness.

God, I love you, Juni wants to cry, his heart pounding in counterpoint to the desperate, silent declaration he traps behind his teeth by digging them into his lower lip so hard he’s almost afraid he’s going to make himself bleed. And it doesn’t stop. I love you, I love you, I love you drums in his chest, hums through his blood, and when Mason catches him looking, he reaches out to push the tangled forelock of curls hanging in Juni’s eyes out of his face, cupping his cheek to pull him into a kiss. Juni shivers and braces his hand on Mason’s chest, feeling the vampire’s heart thumping there, steady and stable and achingly familiar. His own matches it beat for beat, and thankfully his mouth is too occupied for the pulsing plea of love me, love me, please love me to spill out. So he dives into it, clings to it, and when Mason breaks away to let him breathe, Juni buries his mouth against the arch of his throat instead, presses messy kisses to his collarbones, his chest, his shoulders, throttles the words before they can escape him and pushes them into touches instead. Touches can’t damn him the way words can.

There’s a soft, shameful part of him he ignores like he always has that whispers to him that maybe, just maybe, if he pours enough of himself into every kiss, every touch, that the words will finally be understood. That the weak little part of him he buries deeper and deeper every time it cries out will finally be seen, and answered, and cradled tenderly in someone’s strong, freckled hands.

But until then, it will sit there in his chest under lock and key and ache, like all his secrets do.

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

The Crying Reflex (Rosénali) - SnowBun

A/N: Did I use this to procrastinate from working and finishing I’m Not Into Sometimes? Absolutely. But never fear, I will finish that fic (at some point.) Posted about writing this a few weeks ago and I actually got around to it, what a shock! Idea taken from Rosé posting that Denali’s IG story made her cry.

Thank you to Hollie for always being the most amazing beta. Don’t know what I’d do without you. This is for dawningofdrag and pinkgrapefruit for making me feel like this was worth putting out into the world.

Summary: Denali always makes Rosé cry.

–

Rosé isn’t sure how they become friends. She doesn’t believe in destiny or cosmic jokes. She doesn’t think that there’s a higher being out there that writes a script to the whole universe in the stars.

Being friends with her feels more like a reflex. A meeting of the eyes across the room to stimulate, react with a friendship that feels so real she can almost hold it in the palm of her hand.

Look at me the way you do and that’s it, I’m yours.

“Can we talk?”

There are 11 other drag queens and a small but very present television crew in the room, but there is nothing else in her line of sight but Denali. All she can see is the way she dabs at her eyes and the way that they’re flitting from light bulb to light bulb in an effort to look anywhere that isn’t Rosé.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” She throws out her arms with a little laugh, like she’s about to explain that this all just some ridiculously mean joke that’s unfolding before them. “But I couldn’t even look at you. There’s just something about you.”

“You don’t have to look at me. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re going to have a lot of time to look at me.”

Every word that tumbles out of her mouth is a reaction to a tear that Denali blots away with a balled-up tissue paper in her fist. She encourages, even jokes, until she sees her crack a smile that reminds her of the way the sun breaks through hotel room curtains.

She doesn’t realize she’s holding her hand before her thumb is already stroking skin.

“I need you to do it not just for you, but I need you to do it for me; because I really need you here with me.”

Rosé is many things. She is a queen with unending wit and talent. She is that person who won’t stop toeing the line between hot mess and professional, purely for fun. She is the girl that everyone in the werkroom is eyeing with cautious curiosity.

“I know I can make it to the top.”

One thing she has never been is a crier.

“I know you can too.”

Well, at least she didn’t think she was.

Glass beads form in the corners of her eyes, so unlike the bright plastic ones that Lagoona had bought bags of weeks ago. No, these are Denali’s beads. Crystals of chandeliers draping from ceilings, as clear as the fact that she’s barely holding together.

She’s about to say something, even lets the air pass through her teeth so the words can come out; but then she feels her bottom lip quiver and she buries the reflex with things she prays she can admit to later.

“You know what to do.”

–

Denali shuts her eyes. Well, the non-prosthetic ones at least. Against the stark black of her dress, the orange hue of the setting sun washes her skin a beautiful shade of orange. Her radiance only serves to remind Rosé that she hates the way she looks right now.

“You okay?”

“Just tired.”

They lean against the wall, holding hands as they bathe in the last vestiges of daylight. She hums the disco number that’s been on repeat for the past two days if only to make Denali laugh, all low and breathy. It’s these small quiet moments that make the stamp of ‘you’re safe’ more sweet than bitter.

“You were amazing out there, angel.”

“So were you.” Denali turns her head to look at her and she can’t help herself from laughing when all eight black eyes stare back at her. “Still wasn’t enough for the judges, though.”

“Oh no, baby,” Rosé tuts. “I don’t need the judges to tell me shit. I’ll let my delusion tell me how great I am.”

They look out at the lot, watch crew members bustle about as they keep their distance. It’s simple really, how one person is point A and the other is point B. So easy to model with mathematical functions that distance is proportional to safety.

Even easier to prove that distance is proportional to the loneliness that threatens to swallow her whole when she’s trapped in her hotel room.

The thought of having to return to it in a few hours feels like a punch to the gut, the type that’s so strong that tears form in her eyes. To have thoughts, hopes, fears that she can only voice to a void sends her spiralling down.

She presses the back of her head into the concrete wall so she doesn’t cry. She still has to return to the runway after all. She blinks away her tears like the exhaustion and loneliness will disappear with them.

“Rosie?”

“Yeah?”

“Ever want something so bad it hurts?”

She knows Denali is talking about the competition. She knows that she’s talking about hearing, “condrag-ulations,” instead of, “you’re safe,” the next time they step out onto the stage. She knows that she’s talking about the things that they’ve both come here to achieve.

But then she notices that she’s been drawing on the back of Denali’s hand with the pad of her thumb this whole time. She feels the weight of loneliness lift ever so slightly off her shoulders and she knows without giving it any serious thought that she has all she wants right here. At least for now.

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

“Another cocktail.”

“I hate you so much.”

“I love you too.”

She colors those words shades of orange and black, permanent marker and invisible ink just for her.

–

“You’re going to win.”

It’s hard to be sure of things when the world is falling to shit. Being sure of things is reserved for statements like, “the earth isn’t flat,” or, “my dress is definitely a warm yellow and not orange.”

But Denali sounds so sure of it. She sounds like she’s turning theories into laws, like anything else is a deviation from the reality she’s living.

Rosé is holding a cocktail in one hand and Denali’s in the other, and the only thing she can really be sure of is that she isn’t willing to let go of either right now.

“I swear to God, if you’re jinxing this for me–”

“I’m not!”

Thank you.

It’s the first thing she writes on the skin of her hand in a code only they will ever understand. There are ancient languages lost to time, but she knows that when they leave this competition, those words etched into flesh will be a relic only she can read.

“I’m going to sue you for $5000 if I don’t hear RuPaul say, ‘condrag-ulations, Rosé’ by the end of tonight.”

“Shut up.” She giggles. “I promise that you’re going to win this. There is literally no way you won’t.”

Rosé doesn’t have to think too hard to know that Denali is right. In fact, her reflex is to believe her; but if she pauses, lets the lull of laughter set in for too long, then she hears that little voice in the back of her brain, telling her over and over again that it wasn’t good enough.

You’re right.

Of course, she can’t admit it out loud, but she knows whispers of fingertips will be enough for her to understand.

“In case I do win, I’m going to have to ask you to promise me shit like that every week.”

“Mmm, no way.” She pops the plastic straw of her drink out of her mouth, leaving a ring of black staining bright pink. “I have to leave some of those promises for myself. You know, share the love.”

The room is buzzing with nervous energy from the idea of either Kandy, Tina or Symone having to lip sync, but on the couch alone with her, it feels like a bubble. All she can hear is laughter and promises bouncing off fragile walls.

“I’m proud of you, Rosie.”

Her drink is halfway to her mouth when she says it. It takes a moment for her brain to process, but her body reacts right away. The tears in her eyes don’t come from the pain of having just laughed too hard or from the exhaustion that keeps threatening to knock her out.

No, they come from the way Denali looks at her, like her color blindness takes off the green on her face so she can see all the dreams she hides underneath.

I love you.

“Thank you, angel.” She gives her hand a final squeeze before letting go.

–

It doesn’t register that the hand he’s holding isn’t Denali’s.

Most of the queens have fallen asleep, the emotions from the long day leaving them all drained of energy. There are snores and whispers filling up the empty seats of the van, but he doesn’t notice. All he knows is that something is wrong, something he can’t quite place.

The way he writes it’s okay is more than just a habit that he’s acquired over the past few weeks. It’s become a reflex, no different to breathing. The words he writes need no introduction or conclusion. It’s something he knew how to do before he learned he was doing it.

When he turns his head, he’s almost surprised to find that it’s actually Olivia, hiding half his face in the sleeve of a baggy sweatshirt so no one can hear him sniffling. One look at him and everything comes rushing back.

Denali is gone and no one can understand the words now.

He isn’t angry at him, couldn’t be even if he tried. He sees the bloodshot eyes when they pass under a streetlamp and he knows the way it feels. He knows how it feels because all he can think about is how Denali used to sit there, buzzing with the idea of making his dream come true.

“Sorry, Liv.”

Rosé isn’t sorry that he can’t let go of his hand or that he’s caught him crying. If he’s honest, he isn’t really sure what he’s sorry for. It just seems like the right words to say to tell him he’s not suffering alone.

Is this what it feels like to lose half of something that’s still whole? Things won’t fall apart now that he’s gone. He’ll still push to get to that finish line until his lungs give out and breathing turns into a sting in his chest.

But how he wishes he could get there holding his hand.

“Me too.”

Olivia lets out a shaky breath before leaning against him. Rosé is thankful that he can’t see his face. All the easier to hide the tears that threaten to pour out of him.

–

The hotel door shuts behind him, the sound reverberating all throughout his mind, soul and body until all that’s left in his brain is a single thought:

I did it.

His reflex is to belt, “The winner is Rosé!” to his hotel room. Then he looks around, sees the grand emptiness of it all, and lets the pain in his chest shock his body, a billion volts to the parts of him that even he can’t see.

The void pokes, prods, stimulates, and his body’s first response is to turn and look for Denali. He knows that the doors are locked, that telling him he’s in the top four is nothing short of impossible when he’s probably already hundreds of miles away.

What would it be like if he’d been there?

What would it be like to see him wipe off the makeup, revealing nothing but the look of purest joy and pride underneath? What would it be like to hold his hand until the end so he can learn how the words we did it feel on his skin?

What would it be like if the vision of him that still lives in his mind actually paid its three weeks long overdue rent?

What happens when he comes home? What happens when he has to tell him that he’s achieved something that they both deserved to have?

Questions, questions, and more questions. They occupy his brain and it spins the way he does across the stage. There’s a hurricane in the room, tearing everything apart, and he can’t find his way into its eye.

For the first and last time during the entire competition, he lets himself cry. It is free, messy, ugly with its heaving sobs that wrack through his whole body. It’s the type of crying that would be a meme tomorrow if it had gotten caught on the set of Drag Race.

He isn’t sure why he cries, not when his dreams are literally coming true. He’s always known that things will never be as he sees it in his head, but he never imagined that the pleasure would come with a pain he can’t even understand.

It takes a moment for the hurricane to pass. It leaves him drained of emotions he didn’t know he had, but he’s alive and it’s all he really cares about. He lifts up the covers of his bed and crawls in, hoping that he’ll forget the complex cocktail of emotions that he’s just unearthed when he wakes up the next day.

Before he falls asleep, he rehearses his script in his head.

Hey, D. You were right, I did it.

–

It’s in the last few seconds before falling asleep and in the pauses while finishing his makeup that he spends thinking of what he’ll say to him when he gets home. When he finally gets a chance, none of what he plans ever gets said.

The first thing he does when he gets home from Drag Race is to collapse onto his bed. He fills his senses with the smell of his sheets. It’s a familiar embrace that pulls him into the deepest, most comfortable sleep he’s had in months.

When he wakes up, the room is so dark that he can’t tell he’s even opened his eyes. He drinks in the idea that he can leave it behind, that there is light beyond these walls and he can touch it with his bare hands again.

Instead, he grabs his phone off the nightstand. He forgets what he’s meant to do in the first place, but his fingers are already searching for the message that Denali sent as soon as he got home to Chicago. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing until the words are jumping out of the screen at him, breaking him until he smiles.

Denali: hi rosie! Idk when you’ll be back but since you’ll probably make it to the finale, that might be a while. Ilysm and i’m already so proud of you. Call me when you get back, miss you!

Denali: PS it’s all your fault that i keep singing pretty witty fashion clown, i hate you

The picture of Denali sitting on his couch, typing out something so incredibly sweet then following it up with his own brand of ridiculous, is so vivid in his mind that he can’t stop himself from laughing. Otherwise, he might start screaming about how the feeling of the bones caging his poor heart are breaking.

“Hello?”

“Rosie!”

Nightmares start where dreams end, and this one had started the moment she’d walked off the stage, leaving her hopes at Rosé’s feet, clad in chunky Tina Burner heels. He wakes up when he hears him say his name, even if it isn’t the real thing.

“Oh my god, you just got back. Does this mean I was right?”

“Why do you sound like you were doubting me, baby?”

If he’s honest, he’d been scared of this moment. It was an unspoken contract: we’ll be there together. It felt like breaking his end of the promise, even if it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“I knew it!” He paints the dark of the room with the joy in his voice and Rosé watches all the colors she’s ever worn on runways tint the bare walls. “I swear Rosie, I knew from the day I met you that you’d make it there.”

I thought the same about you.

He bites back the words, swallows them like a bitter pill.

“Aww, you’re so sweet, D.”

“God, I miss you so much.”

The pill gets stuck in his throat, making his eyes water. He knows he’s been missed and he knows he’s missed him too, but to hear the words burst into a flash of light that fills up the darkened corners of his room makes him remember that everything they have is more than just an intersection of a dream and a nightmare.

What they had in quiet conversations on van rides and tipsy chats in the werkroom was real, and he had come home to it, even if it’s just a phone call that will never be enough.

“I miss you too.”

–

It doesn’t hit him how lonely he’s felt for months until he isn’t alone anymore.

After his third glass of wine, he settles on the edge of Symone’s bed. He watches his sisters talk about nothing and everything all at once. He tries to cut in every once in a while with a song or a joke or his usual mixture of both, but he’s perfectly content just to see all of them together again.

Days, weeks, months have passed and not all of them are spent alone, but loneliness still mars every interaction he has. In the middle of a world that’s going forward and nowhere all at once, he can’t help but feel like he’s in the middle of the ocean with water filling his lungs.

Then he hears them all laugh and he rises to the surface with a breath of fresh air and the sun shining down on his face.

“Rosita!”

Denali whines and immediately plops down beside him, laying his head in his lap. Rosé knows that he’s drunk or at least close to it, but he’s almost certain that he’d do this to him completely sober too.

It’s been four hours since they’ve reunited after months apart, but how they are hasn’t changed. The safety that he’d thought had just been there to shield him from the impending doom in a bright pink box is still there.

He won’t admit it to anyone, least of all to himself, but as he runs his fingers through his hair, he knows that he’s missed this the most.

“I’m going to fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

“Are you a fucking cat?”

“I’m a pussy, sweetie.”

He looks around the room again and it sinks in how lucky he is to have this. In a universe that he believes is constantly on the brink of implosion, he’s found people like them to hold on to. They didn’t know it at the time, but all the sacrifices they’ve made have led them to this.

Most of all, he’s found the living embodiment of growth and joy, and he has strands of his hair slipping between his fingers. He blames the fact that he almost cries on how Denali won’t stop making feminine moaning noises, causing everyone in the room to break into laughter.

Soon, he will have to go home to empty spaces. He will return to the loneliness, but the dullness of its knife will have faded. When it comes to him in the night, making the world stop again, he will greet it with this memory of contentment.

–

There are millions of things that she’s willing to do to make it stop. He could turn the universe upside down, inside out for him. He could yell at the top of her lungs for highways and mountains to move for him. He could fly a damn plane to Chicago for him.

Nothing is too much to stop being a helpless soul, watching him cry over Facetime calls.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Your feelings will never be stupid, angel.”

Denali tries to laugh, but it doesn’t come out quite right. It is too full of tears and fears, too loaded with emotions that Rosé begs to understand. It is the saddest sound she’s ever heard and shards of glass appear where her heart used to be.

“Everyone loves me now.” He says as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, because your lipsync was that fucking good, diva.”

“And what happens when I disappoint them?”

Rosé takes a deep breath, lets it settle where shattered glass lies. After a long night alone, he’d once seen a video where they turn the pieces into the most beautiful new figures. He wonders if he’ll know he’s turning his heart into something new for him.

“Listen to me, Denali. You are not and will never be a disappointment to anyone.”

“What happens when I’m eliminated? What happens when people figure out that I’m not as good as they thought I was?”

They’ve only talked about it once before, while drunk in his room after a long day of promo. If the others noticed that Denali was talking to him in whispers and holding his hand too tight, they didn’t mention it.

Does he know that he cuts her fingers when he tries to pick up the pieces for him? Does he know that he believes that nothing in the world could ever be so wrong? Does he know that he loves him too much to ever think of him the way he thinks of himself?

Months ago, he’d questioned how he could ever be so sure of anything. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Yes, you will.” He doesn’t know how he manages to keep his voice steady for him. “One bad day won’t change how much people love you. You’re a fabulous performer and an even more fabulous friend. Don’t ever doubt it for one minute, bitch.”

“But–”

“No buts here, baby. The only acceptable one is the fat ass you’re sitting on.”

It’s only when Denali laughs that he realizes he’s been crying too. How could he not when nothing in the world could be as clear? To love him is a reflex and to stop is in the realm of impossibility.

“I’m sorry I ruined your makeup, Rosie.”

“Don’t worry about it.” It’s easy to brush off, especially when it comes to him. “Maybe the people that booked Cameos are into the smudged mascara look.”

People never told him he could love someone’s laugh so much before.

–

Denali makes him realize what it means to daydream. One minute, he’s out of his own body, watching them dance in a whirlwind of giggling grace together. He spins across the dance studio and when he opens his eyes, they’re suddenly drunk off of bad cocktails in his living room, trying to do the choreography to Phenomenon.

“Wait, no!” He almost falls over when he throws his arms over his head. “We really have to put our whole body into the wiggle. Like this.” It takes a single demonstration for Denali to crash onto the couch, burying his face into a cushion to hide his scream from Rosé’s neighbors.

“I’m just trying to be accurate here.” He says when he plops down beside him. “Utica said wiggle to the top, so I’m wiggling to the fucking top, baby.”

“You can’t make a top out of a bottom, Rosie.”

“Well, I made it to the top four, didn’t I?”

They’re both laughing so hard it hurts. It’s the type of laughing that makes their eyes tear up and their vision blur. It’s the type of laughing that makes them struggle for breath until they can’t tell if it’s them or the room that’s spinning.

The cocktail of alcohol and absurdity settles at the bottom of his stomach and he lets the laughter die. He reaches out for his hand, writes down words from memory to flesh.

Thank you.

You’re right.

I love you.

He wonders how many new words he’ll learn during his stay in New York.

Denali writes something back and it’s all Rosé could have ever hoped for. It’s not that he didn’t know it before, but having the words burned on the back of his hand is still the sweetest sensation he’s ever felt.

It happens so quickly that he doesn’t know where it starts and ends. All he knows for sure is that Denali kissed him, a peck on his lips that feels like the quick burst of a bubble.

When he wakes from this dream tomorrow, he’s not sure he’ll even remember what it felt like. All he’ll think of is the way Denali presses into his side, like none of it ever happened.

“Maybe you really are a cat.”

“Just go to sleep.”

Rosé doesn’t find trouble shutting his eyes. He doesn’t need to see him to know he won’t leave.

–

Maybe it’s the power of TV magic or maybe it’s the wall of makeup that Tina had plastered onto his face that makes it look like he isn’t holding back a gallon of tears. Instead, he looks as happy as he always does, bouncing across the runway like seeing Denali leave didn’t break his heart right in two.

The thought of having to act happy feels ridiculous now that they’re both sobbing silently over the phone. Neither of them have said anything since Ru told him to sashay away and as Untucked starts to play, they remember that they have to breathe again.

“Are you okay?”

Denali is almost uncomfortably quiet. The streaks of foundation missing from his face tell Rosé all he really needs to know but he asks anyway, if only to make sure that he doesn’t get trapped in his own head. Beautiful minds make the ugliest nightmares, after all.

“Why do you always dance like that during lipsyncs?”

He stares at him in open-mouthed shock. After the emotional ringer that they’ve both just been pulled through, all he can focus on is the fact that only his knees move when he’s dancing in the background?

“Are you fucking kidding me, Denali?”

“This episode is way too tragic.” He’s brushing it off so easily that the concern Rosé feels grows with each passing second. “My elimination, your makeup, your weird dad dancing. We have to address those things one at a time.”

“And can that first thing be your elimination?”

Denali quits rambling when he says it. They listen to the synced buzz of their TVs, watch as Rosé writes it’ll be okay on her hand. He wonders if the words are still there, wonders if he can still feel them when he needs them the most.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for it yet.”

To love him is to accept it.

Tonight won’t be the night for them to talk about it. It probably won’t even be tomorrow; but when he’s ready, Rosé will keep his end of the promise. There will be other times to love him in the ways he knows how.

“Why won’t people just leave my dad dancing alone?”

“Oh, Rosie,” he giggles and Rosé thinks it might be the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “I think it’s adorable.”

–

Denali: have you seen the response online omg

Rosé: I told u so

Denali: what

Rosé: told u they’d love u as much as i do

#rpdr fanfiction #rosé #denali foxx #rosnali #canon compliant #s13 #on set fic #snowbun

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Read Into Me Chapter 3: The Scarlet Letter

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Word Count: 4,420

Warnings: Bad grades, swearing, anxiety, bullying

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @bajino-in-the-hole @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @t0rmenta0 @10blurredsmoke10 @unusuallchildd @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @alwaysstressedout @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @asharpknife @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie

Steve arrived first to Mr. Lawrence’s homeroom, his paper shoved to the back of his notebook. He was happy to have the distraction of Vicki and Tina jabbering at him. He didn’t want to think about his paper. English wasn’t his best subject, but he could hide it from his peers when it was just the teacher and him going back and forth on essays, him writing and them marking. Now, somebody was going to know that he wasn’t good at this. Nancy knew, of course, and while she didn’t say it she always seemed a bit judgemental over his lack of essay writing skill. She was good at everything; it made him feel like he was in good hands when they were together, like they both had something to offer. Apart, it made him feel stupid and secondary, like he was awful at everything. Truth be told, he didn’t exactly know what he had even offered to that relationship, looking back he couldn’t understand why he thought he was worth anything in a relationship at all.

When he sat down, the desk next to him was empty. Steve wasn’t usually early to class, so he was a bit relieved to not see you there. Maybe he could avoid the eminent roasting of his work.

You got to school late. You were absolutely drenched from head to toe. You had walked to school that day, and a sudden rainstorm hit you halfway through, soaking you before you could make it to the building. To make it worse, you’d decided to wear white for the first time in forever. You rushed to your locker in the hopes to change and luckily you’d left a stained sweatshirt there from the previous semester. You’d pushed your wet hair up and away from your face and rubbed away the bits of black eyeliner that had flaked down you cheeks. You looked like shit and you knew it. It was turning into a less than successful morning. You hadn’t even had a chance to look in your locker mirror once you’d changed. You were already late enough for class and didn’t need the write up. You rushed to your English class.

Everyone turned their attention to the doorway when you opened it. You hurried to your desk, keeping your head down and ignoring as Vicki and Tina laughed. You heard Tina say “She looks like a drowned rat.” But you chose to pretend that you didn’t. You were freezing; Hawkins High turned off the heating system mid-March and left the school to stew in whatever weather the state was dealing with to save the county a few bucks a month.

Steve slid his paper onto your desk, keeping his eye on the front of the room as Mr. Lawrence took up attendance. He’d written on the board in chalk ‘how to peer edit’ in thick block letters. You weren’t exactly enthused by the topic, but you were glad to have the dull class to doodle instead of actually listening. You flipped the paper in front of you, looking over Steve’s chicken scratch without really taking in any of the information. You slid it into your trapper keeper, passing Steve your own typed copy of the assignment. You’d made sure to keep the original at home, edited just in case Steve didn’t give you any edits. You left in some mistakes so he could get a grade, but you didn’t want to have to rely solely on him.

You flipped open your sketchpad slowly, keeping your eye on Tracy Lords curly mess of hair piled high on the top of her head like Medusa’s snakes trapped in a golden laurel, or in this case a braided headband. You pulled your graphite pencil from the pink pencil bag you’d sewn in freshman year home-ec. You started with the shape, trying to capture the exact strangeness pile, making little tight curls in the centre of the oval and spiralling in all directions. You felt a pair of eyes on your neck and you turned to see Steve staring over your shoulder. You pulled yourself and the pad inward, trying not to blush. You didn’t like people looking at your art; you hardly showed your work to anyone, even Samantha. All of your drawings sat in their pads, which piled up as the years went by, untouched and forgotten. If Samantha wasn’t allowed to see the pictures of her, Steve Harrington was certainly not allowed a peak.

“Alright, today if you and your partner are ready to begin, we’ll start editing our papers. If you aren’t ready, that’s fine but today is the only day that we’re doing in class editing so I would spend today trying to finish up so you can at least pass your papers on.” Mr. Lawrence explained. You sighed, closing your pad and pulling Steve’s essay from your trapper keeper.

“Now, we want to look for not only spelling and grammar problems, but also sentences that don’t make sense and confusing details within the essay. It’s not about how many big words you can use, it’s if you can accurately and dynamically give your reader information.” Mr. Lawrence explained. He took to the board, writing key points for his marking, specifically to edit in pen and give a letter grade for the paper.

Tina’s hand shot up “You want us to grade the paper? Isn’t that your job?” she asked, smacking her gum violently. Vicki snickered into her palm, reddish brown hair away from her face.

Mr. Lawrence shook his head “No no, I’m not taking your grade on the papers into consideration for my grade, instead I want us to give each other grades to mark the progress of an essay, to give your partner an idea of what the paper might be worth. It’ll be up to them as to whether or not they are comfortable with the grade or if they want to improve.”

You didn’t like that. Who the hell wanted their classmate grading their paper? This was a recipe for disaster. You uncapped your red pen with your teeth, chewing on the lid nervously. You looked over the page. You had made up your mind that you’d be nice. You’d want Steve to be nice to you. It was the least you could do.

But it only took a few lines to understand that this was not a good paper. Spelling and grammar mistakes galore, run on, confusing sentences, no clear subject. It wasn’t even a good story, hell it wasn’t even an essay it came off more like a point form list. As you added more and more red ink to the black, white, and blue it started as. The paper started to become a Jackson Pollack more than a lame essay for an English class, it almost felt beautiful instead of shitty to destroy his essay. It was as though you were turning into art.

Out of curiosity, you looked over at your paper to see how it was fairing. Steve was, as expected, chatting up Vicki from across the aisle, and he’d made two corrections on your page, both small mistakes you’d left in. You rolled your eyes, a pit of annoyance making itself known in the centre of your stomach, as bitter as the cyanide in a peach pit. You made your last two corrects before scrawling a large ‘D’ at the top of the page and initialling next to it.

You flipped the paper over and pulled back out your sketchpad and brought it close to your chest, pulling your knee up to your chest and adding more curls to the back of Tracy Lords’ head, then focusing in on the braided headband until the bell rang. You flipped your pad closed and slid Steve’s essay back to him, quickly putting your stuff away.

“You mind if I take this home and give it to you tomorrow?” Steve asked, waving your essay in front of your face, nearly giving you a paper cut on the bridge of your nose.

You pushed the paper away, squinting up at him. “Yeah, whatever…” you replied, turning away from. You didn’t feel bad for giving him a bad grade now. He was still a dick head. “Don’t forget your paper.” You added, quickly making your way into the halls. You didn’t usually have the confidence to be snarky with anyone you didn’t trust, but something told you that you could handle Steve Harrington. Maybe it was just how awful his essay was, you felt like you could talk your way out of a fight.

Samantha grabbed your arm as you left the room, the pair of you thankful to have the same lunch period every other day. You hurried into the cafeteria. You knew well enough that she was on the prowl, eyes scanning the room for a certain figure.

“I think the band’s practising today, dude.” You said, taking an extra tray for Samantha and getting her serving of lumpy mashed potatoes and chicken surprise slopped on the plate. Samantha was looking for Robin Buckley, a junior on her soccer team who had drawn her attention as of late, and had been trying to get closer to her as of late, inviting her to join them for lunch every time she saw her and leaving you to third wheel.

“Yeah, probably.” She replied, taking the tray you held out for her and paid for her meal. “So, how’d talking sweet, sexy assignments with King Harrington?” Samantha crooned, batting her eyelashes up at you.

You rolled your eyes “Well, for one, we don’t talk period, and for another it’s fucking awful.” Taking your places at the table closest to the emergency exit, you settled into your routine of trying to choke down the awful cafeteria food. You grabbed your trays and had them filled with whatever horrific concoction the lunch ladies had come up with that day. You carried your grey and brown mushy mess to your table, a small four seater near the edge of the room, out of view from the popular assholes who liked the throw food.

“Oh? Is that what makes it awful? Not getting to enjoy the charming conversations he has to offer?” Samantha was trying hard not to laugh. Watching you squirm was hilarious.

“More like because I have to read his writing…” you replied. You jabbed your fork into what was supposed to be pot roast, but seemed to be ninety percent instant gravy and ten percent meat from an undetermined animal.

“Since when are you such a snob?” Samantha’s mouth was full of mashed potatoes, but the words rang clear.

“Since I spent my morning reading absolute dog shit about a vacation to Miami beach. It was pathetic! I mean, and I’m no critic, but if you’re going to write me an essay on your vacation, can you at least make it interesting?” you ranted. The more you talked about how awful it was the angrier you got about it. You spent so long on art and creating, you spent your time working hard and for someone to slide through life made your blood boil.

Steve didn’t usually spend his free time searching through the cafeteria for people, people usually found him. Tommy and Carol had already motioned him over, their new friend Billy already gone somewhere else, and Vicki and Tina had called for him to join them, but Steve had to handle something first. He didn’t really know what he was looking for, he wasn’t certain he’d find it in there, but there wasn’t any shame in searching. He would ask someone for directions, but it seemed that nobody knew or cared where you were at any time.

You gave him a ‘D’. A god damned ‘D’! He was flummoxed, he thought his essay was shit, he wouldn’t pretend that he didn’t, but he had expected you to be a bit kinder. That was like the unexpected rule of everyone in the class, to grade on the curve. But you went in hard. All he wanted was some answers.

He saw first a flash of pencil stained hands in the air, then the shine of your hair under the florescent lights. You were talking with your hands, making Samantha Cameron laugh hard. He’d never seen you that animated, it made him smile for reasons he didn’t quite understand.

He chuckled, coming up behind you in the hopes that your ease would stick around if he didn’t announce his presence. “You really gave me a D on my paper? What did I do to deserve that?” he asked.

Apparently, you really couldn’t smile when he was around. Both you and Samantha’s smiles dropped, your punky friend dropping her gaze as you were forced to turn around. “Oh…um…well I mean it…maybe I need to look it over again, I was probably being too harsh…” you stuttered, unable to keep yourself from burning up. You prayed that he hadn’t heard what you were saying. That would’ve been awful.

“Hey, it’s cool, the paper’s no good, it’s no big deal.” That was a lie of sorts, when Steve saw the big red ‘D’, his heart dropped. And he really didn’t believe that you were as innocent as you seemed. You seemed guilty over something.

“Well…I’m sorry anyway. I didn’t mean to bother you…” you apologized. You hoped he’d go away; you’d never been more uncomfortable around a person than Steve Harrington. You didn’t know why, but something about him made gave you more butterflies than other people did, he scared you for reasons you couldn’t quite understand.

“You didn’t bother me, don’t worry.” Steve chuckled awkwardly. You wouldn’t look him in the eye, it was throwing him off. “So, listen, I don’t want to fail this class,” he huffed out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck “Could you maybe help me rewrite this thing?”

You looked to Samantha, unsure if you could even speak words anymore, but she was smirking into her pot roast. Absolutely no help at all. You tried to smile “Um…sure, I can’t promise I’ll be much help though…” your voice was hoarse and unsure of itself. You hated that you’d said yes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse. What if he got mad? Or yelled at you? You couldn’t handle being ridiculed or yelled at, you’d die.

Steve chuckled “Any help I can get is good enough. I can meet you in the library after school, okay?” he said, turning his gaze to Tommy’s hollering from across the cafeteria. He waved him over with both hands, like a sailor on a sinking ship, trying to beckon Steve back to where he belonged. Steve nodded, holding up his index finger, he only needed one minute.

“Sure, yeah that’ll work.” You said, fiddling with a thread hanging from the edge of your grey sweatshirt. You’d painted a little pink flower on the inside of the sleeve. When Steve saw it, he couldn’t help but smile at it; it looked so sweet and earnest.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” He left after that, heading over to Tommy, who was frustrated beyond belief. He took his seat easily, stealing the pudding cup off of Carol’s tray wordlessly.

“What did that freak want?” Tommy asked loudly, his eyes blown wide. Carol was painting her nails, not even bothering to look up from her work. Tommy made no attempts to hide his dislike of you. He’d expected his best friend since the second grade to feel the same.

“She’s nice, we’re doing an assignment together.” Steve replied with a shrug, pulling the plastic covering off the cup, sticking the plastic spoon into the vanilla pudding.

Across the room, Samantha grabbed onto your hands with a giddy grin. “Look at my little girl! She’s got plans, with a boy!” she squealed, swinging your arms back and forth over the table.

“Jesus, can you please stop acting so straight? You’re gonna scare Robin off.” You yanked your hands away, watching with a grin as she turned her attention back to looking around the room excitedly. You let your eyes find Steve in the cafeteria, the buzz of fear filling your ears. You couldn’t believe that you agreed to meet him anywhere. You wanted to disappear.

You couldn’t focus on anything for the rest of the day. Your mind had gone into a feral sort of panic mode, pumping fear through your veins and turning your palms cold. When the final bell rang, it took all your strength and courage to not run all the way home. You knew that if you didn’t show, the problem wouldn’t go away. You’d just have to deal with the results of ditching the next day, and if not done now, then you’d have to deal with it another day. You clutched your books tight to your chest, sitting on the bench outside the library, trying to keep the butterflies from bursting out of your mouth. Your hands kept coming to your hair, trying to fix it or keep it away from your ears, maybe just to comfort yourself. It had dried weird and you worried that it looked ridiculous.

You saw his shoes come up to yours before you saw his face, royal blue Adidas with white and red details and dirty laces. You noted your own dirty white Converse, marked with mud and lyrics to songs that Samantha wrote on the toes. “Hey, you ready to do this?” Steve asked. You looked up and nodded, swallowing hard.

You wouldn’t make eye contact with him again. It was really starting to freak him out. He didn’t know what he did wrong, but it seemed like you really didn’t like him. Still, you’d agreed to help him and he wouldn’t take that for granted. He’d read your essay twice and it was good. He didn’t know much about good writing, but he knew that Mr. Lawrence would like it, that it would get a good grade. And he wanted decent grades too, so he could get into college and get his dad off his back.

The Hawkins High library was fairly quiet after school, most students headed back home or to after school clubs. Only a few stragglers remained, mostly using electric typewriters and returning books to poor Mrs. Mueller, who always kept the library open till four, waiting for her husband, the head of custodial staff, to finish his work. She smiled at you when you walked in. Mrs. Mueller was a nice woman who let you sit in the library during lunch and always checked in on you when you seemed alone. She was your favourite teacher, despite never having a class taught by her.

Steve chose a table in the dead centre of the room, dropping his blue bag on the wooden chair next to him and pulling out his papers. You carefully followed suite, folding your hands in your lap, unsure what to do with them. Steve smiled at you, sliding the essay towards you “So, what am I doing wrong?” he asked.

You narrowed your eyes, unsure where to begin. You picked up the paper, and then open your notebook, writing down everything the story seemed to be about. Steve watched you, utterly confused. Once you had every down, you set down your pen. “Okay,” you didn’t look up from your paper, sliding the essay to the middle of the table. “Tell me what your paper is about.”

“What? You read it, you should know.” Steve laughed awkwardly.

“Humour me.” You replied, looking up slowly to meet his eye. Steve’s smiled dropped, looking at you for a second. You broke eye contact first, but he wished he had been able to hold it for a moment longer.

“Okay, well,” he took a deep breath “I wrote about my family’s trip to our cottage on Miami Beach, and I talked about what I did. Nothing much.”

“Okay, because what you actually wrote isn’t really about that. What you told me is that you went to Miami Beach, your parents own a dirty beach house that was your grandparent’s house and that they’re both dead, that your grandfather fought in World War Two and that the medals were framed in the house, that you met a girl on the beach but she didn’t like you, and that the flight was long.” You explained. You still couldn’t believe that he’d fit all of that into a page of work.

“So?” Steve asked. That was all true of his last trip. Mind you, that was way back in middle school and the details were hazy.

“So, that’s a lot of information that I don’t care about. You can cut all of the stuff about your grandparents, which takes up like half of it. And when you cut that, all I know is that the beach house is in Miami Beach and you met a girl and the flight was long. That’s not bad, but I’d like to know a bit more about it.” You said, taking back the essay from the middle of the page and crossed out every line about his grandparents.

“What do I say instead then?” Steve asked, watching as you crossed out half his page, trying not to sound defeated. You were basically saying that he had to start all over again.

“Well, tell me about the beach? Pretend like I’ve never been. What’s there to do, what’d you like about it?” you shrugged. You found yourself feeling a tad bit calmer; the butterflies had calmed their intense flapping and had let you breathe.

Steve sighed “I don’t know, I’m just bullshitting.”

“What’d you mean?” you asked.

“I mean, I didn’t go on there, I haven’t been to our beach house since I was a kid.” Steve looked away. He was embarrassed to have been caught in a lie, even more knowing that now he’d have to rewrite his whole paper.

“Oh…what’d you actually do on your break?” you hadn’t expected him to be lying about anything, a snow bird spring break trip sounded about right for his family, they were always bragging about their money.

Steve chuckled “Oh no, nothing worth writing an essay on.” You looked up at him again. He seemed a bit sad. You pulled another sheet of paper from your trapper keeper, setting it overtop the last one.

“Tell me about it.” You smiled at him despite yourself. He was bit easier to talk to than you’d imagined.

Steve swallowed, nodding despite himself. “Well, I mean my parents went to the beach house and I tried to throw a party, you probably heard about how that went.” He rubbed at the back of his neck.

“No…” you shook your head. Steve wasn’t expecting that. Everyone had heard about the failed party, he’d gotten shit about it for weeks.

“Well, I couldn’t get any supplies, so I cancelled and hung out with Tommy and Carol instead. We got drunk in my backyard and Carol fell in the pool. She was so pissed. Then, I pretty much just hung about town, helped my buddy Dustin beat Dragon’s Lair at the arcade.” Steve didn’t really like admitting how lame his life was, he purposefully left out how Tommy and Carol only hung out with him when he went to pick up some weed from his older brother and they wanted a hit off it. Admitting that his life wasn’t that great made him feel small and like it was out of his control, which was not exactly a good feeling.

“Okay, tell me about the little party you had with Tommy and Carol. What was the night like? Was it fun? Did you jump in the pool too or did you watch her fall and laugh?” You had written down the few details in a bubble tree and added more details as he explained his time more thoroughly. You managed to get a bit more information on both events, learning more about his friend Dustin and the game they played.

When he was finished, you slid the page over to him. He took it, eyebrow raised in confusion, but you spoke before he could ask any questions. “This is your blue print. I wrote down everything you told me; now just turn it into an essay. The whole trick about these assignments is that you’re telling a story, and to make it interesting you have to give us details, and not about your grandparents or other things that don’t add to the story at hand, about what actually was happening.” You explained, checking the plastic watch on your wrist. It was almost four and Mrs. Mueller had already passed your table twice, her silent warning to leave. Everyone else who had been there had long left and you became very aware of how alone you were with him. The butterflies started their flapping again, churning tides in your stomach.

Steve smiled “Okay, I promise it’ll be interesting though.” He chuckled.

You shrugged “I promise that it’s more interesting than what you had before.” You shoved your papers into your bag, standing quickly “If you want me to look at it again before you hand it in, just bring it to me in class, alright? The library’s closing so I should go.”

“You want a ride home?” you spun around to look at him, crossing your arms over your paint splattered sweatshirt. The rain storm of the morning was long forgotten and you didn’t know what the weather looked like now. A part of you wanted to take the ride, but a much bigger part of you told you to run away.

You shook your head “No, um my friend Samantha said she’d drive me after her soccer practise, she’s probably waiting for me.” You lied straight through your teeth, adjusting your backpack straps on your shoulders.

“Oh…sure, yeah, I’ll see you around.” Steve stood slowly, tucking in his chair. You waved politely and headed out. The rain had stopped, thank god, and you rushed to your locker, grabbing your wet clothes from your locker before making your way outside. The field was muddy, practise was probably cancelled. You took the long way home that afternoon, cutting through the woods and the muddy park to avoid being spotted by Harrington on the way and getting caught in a lie.

The afternoon had gone well. And that scared the shit out of you.

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monchikyun · 3 years

Text

XIII. give you everything

Connor can’t help but laugh when a palm lands on his cheek ever so softly.

“You’re aware that I can’t feel physical pain, right?”

“Shut up,” Gavin pretends that he’s bothered by that rhetorical question, but the hint of a smile trying to force its way in doesn’t go undetected. Ever since the morning, his face has been graced by the shade of red Connor can’t get enough of, which is the main reason for his good mood.

Somehow they ended up playing rock-scissors-paper and Gavin insisted that the loser should receive some form of punishment, “to spice it up a little”. He thinks that the man just wants to test how advanced his programming is, to find out whether he’s even capable of losing. The truth is he could accurately estimate Gavin’s move if he concentrated enough, but then this would be no fun now, would it.

Of course, he had to draw paper in their first round and the fact that Gavin immediately went for scissors was all but unexpected. The man himself can be sharp like a knife when you touch the wrong side of him.

Connor has a hard time admitting to himself that he lost on purpose because he can’t quite figure out why.

“Doesn’t matter,” Gavin mumbles and invites him for a rematch.

He supposes there are better ways to spend their free time, but since no one is willing to talk about what is going on between them, childish games count as the next best thing.

And Connor really enjoys the limbo they trapped themselves in. It’s just warm enough without the possibility of leaving burns. Luke-warm, if he’s being honest with himself. A bit bland. Still, he could live with that. He can ignore the longing in Gavin’s eyes if it keeps them safe like this.

“Guess I win this time.” Gavin’s fist uncurls in disappointment, preventing Connor from enveloping it in his ‘paper’.

“You sure you didn’t cheat with your robo mind-reading power?” There is nothing but playfulness seeping from his voice, still, Connor can’t believe he even has to ask.

“You really do think highly of me, don’t you?”

“So that would be a ‘no’.” He squeezes his eyes shut and winces in anticipation.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

And he is, imitating the slap he got just a couple of minutes ago.

“Seriously? Well, that was kinda underwhelming.” He sounds almost dissatisfied. Connor never considered Gavin was into that kind of stuff but one never knows what the other person might be hiding. Not that he minds, it’s just a piece of information he needs to get used to.

“So was yours.” He smirks at him, creating a petulant frown on his friend’s face.

“Good point.” At least he doesn’t initiate a fight. It would be a shame if something ruined their so-far peaceful day.

The snow has finally stopped falling, letting a ray of sunshine peek through the thick clouds. He would suggest taking a walk if Gavin hasn’t coughed three times in the past two hours. Connor has been monitoring his vitals, not noticing any significant change to his health, but that might have been only thanks to their current sufficiently heated location. At least according to his scans it is so, because the detective’s hands rub his arms up and down in an attempt to get rid of the cold only he can feel.

“If only you had a perfectly comfortable sweater to wear.., what a pity,” Connor shakes his head in theatrical sorrow.

“Oh, wait.”

The darts coming from Gavin prick his skin without having to look at him at all. Now, this is fun.

“You do!.”

The man seems offended by his toothy grin, which makes it grow even wider.

“For phck’s sake, Connor. I told you I’ll wear that over my dead body.”

“Guess I’ll have to kill you then.”

He means it as a stupid joke, but the air turns serious as soon as his mouth lets out those words.

“Sorry.”

He shouldn’t be the one letting himself be carried away by the moment, no matter how carefree it might have been.

But Gavin doesn’t react to his feeble apology, busy making himself smaller to contain some of his bodily heat. His temperature is still within the norm, but that doesn’t tell him anything about what might happen in the next several hours. Days.

He repeats his actions from the night before, placing his blanket around the man’s shoulder, letting his hands linger a little longer than they should.

They spend the rest of the day wasting their time by playing all the games from Gavin’s childhood that Connor would never have the opportunity to experience otherwise. It’s a nice gesture, if that indeed is the intention behind it. Could be that this is the detective’s idea of dealing with boredom. And since they’ve decided to forget all about their work while they’re here, there weren’t many options left if they wanted to avoid all communication that could direct them to the forsaken grounds, also known as a personal dialogue.

Connor almost had to force-feed Gavin the lunch he ordered for him, fighting against his endless excuses of not being hungry. He needs the strength if his condition is to worsen, and he’d make sure he gets it, even if it ended up in him having to shove a spoon inside his human mouth and nearly choking him to death. The man does sometimes act like a misbehaving toddler, but he figures that’s just a part of his charm. Besides, he likes taking care of him, it makes him fulfilled, for more reasons than one. It reminds him that he’s capable of so much more than just police work.

It’s late in the afternoon now, the sky has gone dark and their carefully structured conversation quieted down into a pleasant silence. The only light source in their room is provided by the muted television which no one pays any attention to.

Gavin is sitting on the ground, backed propped by the side of his bed. He’s still snuggled in Connor’s blanket, cradling a cup of tea the android has made for him.

He has packed plenty of supplies with him, thinking they might come in handy. It’s better to be over-prepared than the opposite, an opinion that this trip has confirmed to him.

Connor has just got off the phone with Tina, assuring himself that Sumo is being adequately spoiled. He really misses that oversized lump of fur, but the dog is doing just fine without him, so he has nothing to complain about.

Checking up on Gavin he notices his temperature has risen above what’s deemed healthy. He sits next to him and retracts the skin on his hand, pressing it on the man’s forehead to extract the precise reading, just to be certain.

“Yeah, I know,” Gavin says, clearly defeated. He shifts a bit and looks at him like he’s seeing the most beautiful being in the world, setting the now half-empty cup aside.

“C’me here.”

Maybe it’s the medicine he took twenty minutes ago finally kicking in, making his brain all mushy and body too clingy, but Gavin magically pulls him in his lap and holds him like he’s the last of his kind. He rests his head on the android’s chest, and Connor is too weak to deny him this show of vulnerability. Even if it’s likely drug-induced. They stay like this for a while, basking in each other’s touch, breathing in the tender atmosphere. Their hands have found each other too, fitting together like opposite poles. His spare one is threading through Gavin’s hair, messing it up on purpose. Connor loves seeing it like that, it feels intimate to him. A secret side of the man reserved only for those who are closest to him. It’s nice. Too nice.

The moment is so overwhelmingly light it doesn’t even occur to him how dangerous his actions are. How those small acts can wedge a rift between them if he isn’t careful enough.

But it’s too late to back out because Gavin kisses his chest, the place whereunder his mechanical heart beats loudly. And it doesn’t stop there. He traces those kisses up along his collar bone, his jaw, his neck, eliciting a content hum from him in the process. When he comes close to his lips, the man hesitates for a second that seems like an eternity, but ultimately decides to give in.

And that where Connor draws the line. Snapping out of his trance, he quickly shoves his hand in front of his mouth to prevent Gavin from doing something he won’t be able to take back.

“I’m sorry,” comes the muffled expression of regret. He truly loathes having to say that phrase so often because he apparently can’t do a single thing right in his life.

He climbs off Gavin, dropping his body right next to him instead.

“Why,” the man breathes softly.

“I- I can’t. I can’t give you everything you want, Gavin.” He tries to communicate his despair through his doleful gaze, which his friend appears to be drowning in.

“What-” Connor grabs the upper side of Gavin’s hand, guiding it towards him in an answer. It discomforts him greatly, but he leads it to where his genitals would be if he had any. He’s not the only one unsettled by this, for he senses Gavin struggle against his grip and at this point he has no choice but to set him free.

“You phcking toaster, you think I don’t know that?” he laughs without mirth.

“You think that… that I want you just for your body?”

Connor has hurt the man again, despite trying to do the exact opposite.

“...no?”

“No!” It’s not that difficult to believe, but not as easy when the truth has been spoken out loud.

Gavin leans back into him, resting his head on his shoulder. At least they haven’t spiralled down the path of pretend animosity.

“You don’t mind that I’m not a man?” Connor has never really regarded himself as one. It’s a label that doesn’t feel right to him. He’s simply himself, a human-like android who has been given a soul. There is no need for something else.

“I don’t care what or who you are, Con. As long as it’s you that’s inside, I wouldn’t mind if you were a phcking jellyfish, I’d… I’d love you all the same.”

“You… you love me.” The world around him gets blurry as he can’t quite process what he just heard.

“Is that so surprising, tin can?” Gavin chuckles, his own tears audible in that delightful sound.

He wants to say it back, every inch of his being is urging him to do so, but his brain has frozen over and refuses to receive any command his heart gives him.

The words are stuck in his chest, leaking out through his close eyes, unable to be turned into any shape. They stab him with their intensity over and over, making him want to pluck them out and throw them at the person who has created them.

“I-”

“You don’t have to, Con.”

Maybe neither of them is ready to carry the weight behind that sentence just yet.

@a-convin-new-year i had to change the title a bit to suit my story hope you don’t mind

#aconvinnewyear #convin #low-temperature burn #longest one yet #sorry for mistakes my brain has also frozen over ahaha #some important stuff happens idk if I'm vibing with it #tell me how you feel abt it please :D

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wheresmynaya · 3 years

Text

Lopez’s 8 Ch.10 | Brittana

And that's a wrap! It's been fun & I've really appreciated all the engagement this story has received, really brought me back to the good ole Brittana days. THANK YOU, THANK YOU to everyone that has commented, reviewed, kudos'd(?), sent asks, PM'd, DM'd, MADE A WHOLE AS TRAILER and FIC ART etc... It really has been a pleasure writing for you all.

Maybe I'll see you again in the near future when I finally publish my Quarterback!Britt and Cheerios!San verse? Look out for a little something called Lost in the Lights *smirky smirk, wink wink*

Also available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut!

Sugar let’s out a dramatic sigh as she stares longingly out of the front window. She’s surrounded by the others – minus Rachel, Santana and Brittany – and they’ve been doing their best to keep themselves busy.

Quinn considers it a nice break before she has to return to her boring life in the ‘burbs and has been catching up on some reading. So lame, Sugar thinks.

Emma’s busy scribbling new designs inspired by the heist in her sketchbook like non-stop and Sugar’s sure that Santana would confiscate it if she knew what the so-called designer was coming up with. Sugar’s not going to tell though, she’s no snitch bitch.

Mercedes is up to something shady for sure. Sugar thinks she has an online gambling addiction, but like…do you, boo. She considers asking if Mercedes would hook her up with an account too, because she thinks she’d probably be good at scamming people online. Afterall, she’s an ace doing it in real life! Maybe that’s her next venture?

Tina’s trying her hand at Tinder and failing miserably. Sugar’s tried to help, but Tina’s got such questionable taste in men that she loses interest.

So now, Sugar just stares longingly out of the window waiting for the day Santana finally gives them the okay that it’s safe to come out of hiding. She lets out another dramatic sigh and this time Quinn gives her a pointed look from over the top of her book. The bossy blonde really has that mom-glare thing down pact, but Sugar’s seen worse.

“I’m so bored,” Sugar grumbles and knocks her head against the window to rest there.

“It’s been two days,” Quinn points out as she turns the page.

“That’s so long,” Sugar pouts, “I hate it.”

“Me too,” Tina pipes in from the couch, “I didn’t know we’d be stuck in this musty old loft after everything.”

“Mercedes?” Sugar calls out as she turns away from the window, “Can you put on Run Joey?”

Mercedes pokes her head out from behind her laptop where she sits at the poker table and her brow is raised high, “Hell no.”

Sugar frowns, “But it’s so good.”

“It really isn’t,” Mercedes replies.

“Speaking of Run Joey, I’ve been thinking…” Tina wonders aloud, “How come Rachel gets to leave while the rest of us are stuck on house arrest?”

“Because she can’t draw attention to us by skipping out on her previous engagements,” Quinn responds, “She has to continue with her life as normal.”

“What about Santana and Brittany then?” Sugar questions.

Quinn rolls her eyes and shuts the book in her hands in favor of sitting up from where she was lounging near Tina. She can feel the other’s eyes on her, she knows they’re also curious as to why the rules don’t apply to Santana and Brittany too.

“They’re doing a lot more than you know,” Quinn replies and she makes a point to glance at everyone, “This job didn’t just end at the Gala like it did for all of you. There’s still working being done in order for us all to get paid and stay out of jail. They’ve both got a lot on their plates so be grateful all you have to do now is lay low.”

That seems to shut Sugar up for the moment.

Quinn’s quite pleased with herself for that so she rests back and reaches for her wine glass before opening up her book again.

“Besides,” She says in a calmer voice, “Being in here isn’t so bad, it’s kind of peaceful.”

Tina eyes her as she takes a sip, “You just day drink and read all day.”

“And it’s amazing when you have a kid at home and a husband who sometimes acts like a kid too,” Quinn replies before she’s lost in her book again.

“I like it too,” Emma speaks up from her work station. She smiles with a little shrug, “I’ve been so inspired by all of this and all of you. I’ve been using this time to sketch out designs. I’m thinking about using my share to open up my own place.”

Everyone nods and starts to wonder what they’ll do with their share after all of this too.

A moment later, Brittany’s pulling open the heavy loft door with Santana close behind her. They’re holding hands – which is new – and talking excitedly about something until they realize that everyone but Quinn is staring at them.

Santana frowns, “What? You all look like we just walked in on you talking shit about us.”

No one speaks. Quinn she keeps her eyes on the page she’s reading but there’s a hint of a smirk there that Santana notices. The brunette narrows her eyes at the others.

“Wait, were you?” She questions and there’s a slight edge in her voice.

“No,” Tina says a little too eagerly, “We were just talking about how much we appreciate having this little break while you two are out there doing…whatever it is that you’re doing.”

Santana doesn’t know if she believes her or not, but she doesn’t really care at the moment. She’s still high on how great of a day she’s had with Brittany. She was intending to attend these auctions alone just so she can observe their hired actresses at work, but Brittany offered to keep her company and Santana figured who is she to deny her girlfriend of that? In fact, it kind of worked out in her favor because if Brittany hadn’t come then she would’ve had to eat lunch alone and there would’ve never been a quickie in the car between auctions.

Even though they were technically working, it was nice to be out and about together as an actual couple. This whole hand-holding thing is also pretty awesome too!

“Well good,” Santana responds with a smile, “As a matter of fact, I have some news that you might like.”

The others perk up and gather around Santana while Brittany takes a seat next to Quinn.

“Our merry band of lovely old ladies that we’ve hired are making great progress with selling off the pieces of the Toussaint,” Santana explains, “Sales should be finalized tonight so once everything’s deposited in Dani’s account then we’ll be golden.”

“Wait. Dani’s account?” Tina asks.

“What are we getting paid with then?” Emma asks too. The others look around at each other confused and begin to talk amongst themselves.

Santana catches Brittany’s proud little grin and matches it before turning back to the others, “You’ll get your money, don’t you worry about that. Just have a little patience.”

It’s late in the morning the next day when Brittany gently wakes Santana with kisses all over her face. Santana blinks away the sleepiness with a content smile while Brittany hovers over her whispering, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Santana mumbles back. This little cocoon of warmth that’s a combination of being wrapped up in the comforter and Brittany’s arms is the perfect place to spend all day, but she knows she can’t. At least, not today.

“What time’s your meeting?” Brittany asks as she dances her fingers along Santana’s hip.

“Two,” Santana replies with a sigh. When she glances over at the clock on her nightstand, she groans at the time there, “I should be getting ready.”

“Yeah you should,” Brittany says but she only holds her closer.

Santana nods, “A few more minutes.”

“Okay.”

So Santana cuddles further against Brittany for a few more minutes. Leaving this bed is the last thing she wants to do, but there’s a lot riding on this meeting and she knows it needs to be done. She knows there’s not much to worry about, she knows what she’s doing, but she’s still nervous about it.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Brittany asks like she’s inside Santana’s head.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

A moment later Santana’s tilting her head up to kiss the hinge of Brittany’s jaw. There’s a little flinch and Santana smiles at how Brittany so easily fell back asleep, “I have to get up, Britt.”

“Yeah okay,” Brittany nods a little sleepily.

Santana smirks as she plays with Brittany’s hair, “You can stay. I just need to shower.”

“No, no. I’ll get up too,” Brittany says as she begins to stretch her tired limbs, “A hot shower sounds like a good idea.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me,” Santana agrees and plants one more kiss to her lips before she’s going to get the water started.

They’re a little sluggish as they strip down and step in to the shower. It’s a stark contrast to the chill in the air, but it helps ease them both out of their slumber.

But it’s not the temperature of the water or the freezing air of the loft that Santana focuses on. It’s how Brittany offers to wash Santana’s hair for her, how they take turns standing under the warmth of the spray to wash off, how the wet kisses pressed to bare shoulders elicit moans, how hands disappear between slick thighs, how whispers of I love you can’t help but leave their lips as if they’re the only words they can remember.

Before they became a couple, showers involved hot, dirty sex. There was a common goal of getting off and making the other person come just as hard. Knees would ache from kneeling on hard tiles and there was always that threat of someone slipping and busting their ass. It was always quick, always rough in the best possible way, and sometimes it’s still like that, but most of the time it’s not. Now it’s softer, gentler, and there’s this care…this love they share and it’s like they’ve reached a whole new level.

Don’t get them wrong, they’re still always down for some hot, dirty shower sex but they’ve also realized that with feelings it’s so much better too.

Once they finish with their shower, Brittany slips into her trusty overalls and heads downstairs to see who else is up while Santana continues to get ready. Thankfully, Quinn’s made a fresh pot of coffee and together they sit at the poker table just chatting about nothing too important. Quinn reads the morning paper because she likes the nostalgia of it and hands Brittany the comic strips because she knows they’re her guilty pleasure.

“Can I see that after you?” Sugar asks when she peeks over Brittany’s shoulder to see what she’s reading.

“Totally,” Brittany smiles and reaches for her coffee cup, “Almost done.”

“Morning all,” Emma greets cheerfully as she finally steps away from her desk to top up her tea.

“Morning,” Quinn and Brittany say in unison while Sugar’s got her mouth full of donut holes.

They make a little small talk while Emma waits for her tea to steep and in that time, Tina and Mercedes wander over.

“Sup y’all,” Mercedes says with a head nod before heading to the coffee pot. She notices how much is left and looks to Tina, “You want some?”

“I think I’ll have tea today,” Tina answers politely and goes to sit with Brittany and Quinn at the poker table, “You mind if look at the real estate ads?”

Quinn quirks her brow and hands them over, “Thinking of buying yourself a place?”

Tina nods, “I love my family but I can’t stand living with them. It’s time for a little space of my own, especially if I’m still single. Mom’s the worst matchmaker of all time.”

They all laugh at that and fall into this comfortable lapse of chatting about nothing in particular again. Brittany takes the moment to appreciate this; how just a few weeks ago they were all strangers to each other strung together by a common goal and now look at them. She doesn’t know if she’d go as far as saying they’re all friends, but they do make a pretty good team.

And for a moment, Brittany feels a little sad that it’s all going to end soon. They’re going to get paid and go their separate ways and continue on with their lives. Maybe she won’t hear from them ever again – aside from Quinn – or maybe they’ll keep it in touch? Maybe someone will devise a master plan of their own and try to rope her and Santana into just like they did to them?

Who knows, but for now she just enjoys the company.

“Where’s Santana?” Emma asks before she sips at her tea.

The others look around for her too then look to Brittany for an answer.

“She’s getting dressed. She’s got a big day ahead of her,” Brittany replies. She doesn’t want to give too much away just incase this plan happens to fall through and they need to devise another one.

Quinn looks to her curiously though like she’s trying to connect the dots on her own. She probably can and that’s what’s great about their friendship. Quinn just gets it most of the time and they don’t need to do much explaining.

The others on the other hand look around at each other like they’re trying to understand Brittany’s cryptic words. Surprisingly enough though, no one asks Brittany to elaborate. Instead, they get whatever they need from the kitchen and disperse.

Brittany’s brows rise at that, “I thought I was going to be interrogated.”

Quinn just chuckles, “They know better now.”

Brittany looks impressed but doesn’t ask. She just downs the rest of her coffee before passing off the comics to Sugar then heads to the garage to keep herself occupied.

Upstairs, Santana spends a little longer on making herself look presentable. Not that she has to try very hard – she always looks presentable – but today’s going to be different and maybe she needs the extra confidence boost that comes with looking smoking hot. Her hair falls over her shoulders in perfect waves, her make up is on point, her outfit hugs her curves perfectly; she’s like a damn superhero and looking this damn good was her superpower!

She gives herself one last glance in the mirror before she’s grabbing her purse and heading downstairs. It’s no surprise that everyone’s spread out in the common area and Quinn’s already got a wine glass in her hand and it’s barely half past noon. She can’t really judge her though, she’d totally do the same if she was in her shoes.

“Going somewhere fancy?” Quinn questions as Santana appears by the poker table.

She just shrugs casually, “Not really. I just needed this.”

“You look like you’re on a mission,” Quinn nods.

“I am,” Santana smiles proudly and looks around, “Where’s – “

“Garage.”

“Of course,” Santana chuckles, “Later Fabray.”

In the garage, Brittany’s crouched beside her motorbike looking over something when she hears the door close behind her. She turns to find Santana standing there and her jaw drops.

“Woah,” Brittany breathes out as she slowly rises. A little chuckle escapes her as Santana saunters over, hips swaying rhythmically, “Now this is a look.”

“I try,” Santana smirks although a warmth rushes over her.

Brittany’s eyes drag up and down Santana’s frame and it’s like she’s seeing her for the first time all over again. Her heart swells and beats hard in her chest because she loves this woman, this beautiful, beautiful woman, and crazy thing is…she loves her too.

Brittany licks her lips and sighs, “You look beautiful, baby.”

And that’s what creates a crack in Santana’s cockiness. She can be all big and bad and drop dead gorgeous, play the role of HBIC like no one else can and run a whole girl gang practically on her own…but whenever Brittany calls her baby it just does something to her. She feels like this giddy, silly love-sick girl and as much as she finds it a little embarrassing how one word can have her walls coming down, she also kind of loves it too.

“Thanks,” Santana smiles before she’s leaning in for a kiss. It feels like a sigh of relief and she does it again and again until Brittany’s mumbling against her lips.

“I really can’t get over how good you look,” Brittany says a little dreamily before she teases, “Sucks you’ll be wasting it on a meeting with someone trying to lock us all up.”

Santana throws her head back with a laugh, “Please. You’re the only one I dress up for.”

Brittany quirks a brows as Santana draws even closer until her lips are brushing the shell of Brittany’s ear.

“Wait until you see what I’ve got on underneath,” Santana whispers huskily.

It sends a shiver down Brittany’s spine and settles low between her thighs. She has to bite her lip to keep from smiling too big, but the anticipation just eats her up. She can’t wait for Santana to come back and she hasn’t even left yet.

Santana looks pretty pleased with herself as she watches Brittany’s thoughts drift and her pretty blue eyes become darkened with lust.

“Such a tease,” Brittany mumbles as she pulls herself back from drifting too far off. She wants to touch her but her hands are already a little greasy and she doesn’t want to wreck Santana’s dress – at least not until she comes back – so she twists her rag in her hands instead to keep them busy, “You positive you don’t want me to go with?”

Santana smiles fondly, “Yes Britt, I can handle him on my own.”

“I know you can. Just thought I’d go for like emotional support or something,” Brittany replies with a shrug.

“I love you,” Santana tells her, “But I got this.”

“Alright,” Brittany nods then glances over at her bike, “Need a ride then?”

“With this dress on?” Santana laughs, “Not on that thing.”

“Fair enough,” Brittany giggles and goes over to grab the keys to the Fastback before handing them over to Santana, “How about this one?”

Santana recognizes the keys and smiles, “You know me so well.”

Brittany buffs her nails on her overalls and grins coyly, “Duh.”

“Okay well, I’ll be back later,” Santana says, “Stay out of trouble.”

“I’m not making any promises,” Brittany winks as Santana walks the short distance over to the Fastback and gets in.

“Well in that case…,” Santana smirks and beckons Brittany down to her level. The blonde obliges happily and leans on the frame of the door so she can be pulled in for a kiss.

“Good luck,” Brittany mumbles against soft lips before she’s pulling away and closing the door after Santana.

Santana only parrots back the words Brittany once said to her, “Don’t need luck when you’re this good.”

The meeting place decided upon is some random diner Santana and Brittany have walked by countless times. When Santana pulls open the door, the bells above jingle and alert everyone of her entrance. She sees the double-takes from the older men lining the bar and curious glances from the waitstaff. She knows that all eyes are on her, she’s the hottest bitch in the place so that’s a given, but she’s there for business and quickly glances around the place for the man she’s meant to meet.

“Miss Lopez,” Someone calls out to her and Santana turns towards the voice.

The insurance investigator smiles brightly and Santana has to fight the urge to roll her eyes as she makes her way over to him. She can already smell the hair product wafting off of him and the way he smiles at her just makes Santana want to punch him.

Blaine Anderson; just an overachieving, annoying little weasel that has somehow managed to climb ranks stupidly fast and has been breathing down the necks of her family for years. The Anderson and Lopez rivalry is a tale as old as time and here Santana is upholding that legacy.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lopez,” Blaine greets politely once Santana’s close enough and goes to shake her hand.

“Anderson,” Santana nods and slides into the booth so that she sits across from him.

“Interesting place for a meeting,” Blaine notes as he looks around, “Why not my office?”

Santana scrunches her nose, “And finally see what kind of hideous bow tie collection you probably have set up there? No way.”

Blaine’s smile falters as he presses a hand to his bowtie.

“Besides,” Santana adds as she looks down at the menu, “Apparently this place does the best tiramisu and my girlfriend loves that stuff.”

Before Blaine can ask anything further, a waitress comes over and tops up his coffee.

“You want anything, dear?” She asks Santana.

“Coffee and one of those tiramisus to go. Please.”

“Sure thing, hun,” The woman nods and she’s off. It only takes her a few minutes until she returns with a warm mug and fills it close to the top with fresh coffee.

The pleased smile returns to Blaine’s face, “Girlfriend, huh? Maybe you really are on the straight and narrow.”

Santana quirks a brow, “Not so much the straight but yeah. I’ve been keeping myself out of trouble. That’s why I’m here. Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

Blaine laughs and shakes his head as he pulls out a few pictures, “Oh? Then explain this.”

Santana knew this was coming. She didn’t spend all night at the Gala in the camera’s view for nothing, so she leans forward to admire the pictures of her.

“Damn, I look hot!” Santana says as she looks over each one, “Can I keep these?”

Blaine’s easy-going demeanor begins to shift into something a little more serious, “Santana please. This is very serious. Millions of dollars worth of diamonds are missing and it can’t just be a coincidence that you were there the night of its disappearance.”

“Why not?” Santana questions as she sits back and cocks her head to the side, “I love a good party as much as the next person. You’ve got the receipts. Does it look like I was up to something? Because to me, I look like I’m having the time of my life.”

“And I wonder why that is,” Blaine questions with narrowed eyes.

Santana shrugs and averts her eyes to the pictures again, “Look at me, surrounded by beautiful people with a drink in my hand just as the good Lord intended. Who wouldn’t have a good time?”

Blaine let’s out a tired sigh.

Santana can tell he’s at a crossroads and getting frustrated so she’s pretty damn pleased about that. It makes her swell with pride because she really has this thing wrapped up so tight that not even Blaine can figure it out. But she knows he’s a smart son of a bitch so she doesn’t get too cocky just yet.

Blaine continues to stew while Santana brings the mug close to her lips. Riling him up is a lot easier than she suspected. She figured he’d have way more on her than just a couple of pictures and she’s surprised considering his merit.

“Honestly, with your track record and your family history I don’t know what to believe,” Blaine admits. He looks up at Santana – like really looks at her like he’s trying to see something beneath the surface.

Santana’s a pro though so he’s not going to find anything there. She’s not going to crack and deep down Blaine knows that.

“Well, one look at these pictures I think gets me off the hook,” Santana explains and taps at one of the pictures, “Solid alibi right there, don’t you think?”

Blaine crosses his arms and Santana feels as though she’s almost won.

“Can I go now?” She asks even though she knows she’s not yet finished with him.

“I still have questions,” Blaine replies, “And don’t you need your tiramisu?”

“You’re right,” Santana smirks and lifts her mug to her lips, “You’ve got until the waitress brings it over and then I’m out.”

“Fine,” Blaine sighs, “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out how the hell this happened. How such a valuable necklace practically disappeared in thin air. I’ve got suspects who should be guilty but aren’t and then there’s you who had been smiling for the camera all night.”

“Sounds like you got yourself a real shit show on your hands,” Santana dismisses, “Doesn’t concern me.”

“But it does,” Blaine urges, “I know you had something to do with this but I just can’t…I can’t connect the dots.”

“Because like I said,” Santana replies, “I didn’t do it.”

Blaine laughs again before he sighs, “Listen Santana, I don’t want you.”

“Never heard that one before.”

“Let me clarify,” He says, “I don’t want you, I want the necklace. I don’t care how you get it back to me, I’ll make something up. I’m just tired of doing this.”

Santana perks up; this is going way better than she anticipated.

“I honestly don’t get paid enough so just tell me,” Blaine adds, “Where’s the necklace? That’s all I’m after. The sooner I wrap this case up the faster I can get back to my life.”

Santana smirks, “Which I’m sure is very bland and boring, just like you.”

Blaine doesn’t take her bait, “I’ll ask again. Where’s the necklace, Santana?”

“The whole thing?” Santana questions before she shrugs, “No idea, but I might no where some of it is.”

“Some of it? Some?” Blaine looks like he’s going to have a heart attack.

“Hypothetically, yes,” Santana replies, “Maybe like ten percent of it? Give or take?”

Blaine mutters to himself beneath his breath while his face goes a little red. It takes him a minute to get himself together and then he’s turning to Santana and calmly asking, “Where?”

Santana doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she slides her phone across the table. On it is a picture of Dani from the Gala and it all begins to click for Blaine.

“Right,” Blaine nods, “A classic case of revenge. An eye for an eye so to speak.”

“It’s what I do best.”

“You know this isn’t healthy, right?” Blaine says worriedly, “It’s not good for the heart to hang on to so much pain, Santana. I know a great counselor that specializes in –“

“I process shit my own way and it’s working just fine for me,” Santana brushes off as she slips her phone back in her purse,” Now, for argument’s sake…how does one get a search warrant?”

Blaine bobs his head from side to side as he thinks, “I’d need probable cause.”

“That’s what I thought,” Santana smirks. In that moment, the waitress brings over her takeaway box and Santana smiles up at her in thanks before looking back at Blaine, “This was productive.”

“I suppose,” Blaine frowns as Santana stands and throws down a couple bills on the table.

“Wait for my call,” She tells him before walking out.

Back at the loft, Brittany’s trying her hardest to keep busy while she awaits Santana’s call. When her phone finally does ring, she practically lunges for it.

“Hey San!” Brittany greets eagerly, “How’d it go?”

“Perfectly. He’s got nothing on us which I was really surprised about but I’m not complaining.”

Brittany feels like a weight has been lifted, “That’s so good. Did you find out about the warrant?”

“Sure did and you were right! It’s absolutely genius, obviously.”

Brittany blushes, “He’d need probable cause?”

“Yup and that should be easy to get.”

“It should,” Brittany nods, “I’ll make the call now.”

“Great, I’m on my way back. I’ll see you soon.”

They say their goodbyes and then Brittany’s dialing another number.

“Hello, Rachel Berry speaking.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “Hey Rachel. It’s Brittany.”

“Oh!” Rachel’s voice turns chipper, “Hello Brittany, how are you?”

“Good. I’ve got a job for you,” Brittany says, “It’s a very important task.”

“Of course, I’m ready. What do you need me to do?”

“We’re going to need a certain picture taken of an item,” Brittany begins to explain, “But this item currently resides in Dani’s jacket from the Gala. We’re going to need you to get in there and take a picture of it.”

Rachel’s quiet for a moment and Brittany begins to wonder if the call disconnected on accident.

“Hel – “

“This is amazing. Oh my God!”

Brittany bites her tongue while Rachel excitedly rambles. Really, she starts to tune out the more she talks but it’s one question that reels Brittany back in.

“You want me to seduce her?”

“I don’t really want to know how you do it,” Brittany responds, “Just get it done.”

“I’m on it. This is so exciting! My first job. I can play this so many ways, but which to choose? Maybe I can use those handcuffs I bought? I’ve been wanting to try those out on someone. They’re authentic.”

Brittany frowns with disgust. Imagining Rachel Berry seducing Dani with a pair of handcuffs is not an image she wants or needs.

“Gross,” Brittany mumbles.

“I see why you people do this! God, the thrill of it is invigorating.”

“Yeah. Okay. Well, text me the picture when you get it.”

“Of course. Should I wear a lacy – “

Brittany hangs up on her immediately.

Later that night, most of the team has headed off to bed aside from Mercedes who spends hours on end on her laptop doing who knows what. Santana and Brittany wander up to Brittany’s room but neither of them are tired. They know Rachel’s out there doing whatever she can to get this picture and they can’t really settle in for bed until they receive it.

Instead, Brittany lounges on the bed with a motorcycle magazine in her lap while Santana lazily watches her turn the page. She’s got her head on Brittany’s shoulder and their legs tangle together for warmth. It’s a nice way to end the night, wrapped up in each other like this, and Santana basks in how easy it is to feel so comfortable around Brittany.

“I never thanked you for talking to Rachel,” Santana mutters like she’s lost in thought.

Brittany snickers, “That’s okay.”

Santana tilts to look up at her, “No, seriously. You came up with the search warrant idea and using Rachel…I never would’ve thought to do that.”

“Sure you would’ve,” Brittany shrugs.

“Not without you guiding me,” Santana replies and leans up to kiss the underside of Brittany’s jaw, “So thank you. Thank you for having my back.”

Brittany smiles fondly, “For you? Always.”

Santana blushes, “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

Brittany pretends to ponder, “Once before I think? But tell me again.”

Santana giggles and whispers I love you between sweet kisses.

Brittany gets the text from Rachel shortly after. The picture shows a piece of the Toussaint Santana planted on Dani the night of the Gala and it’s perfectly framed alongside the necktie Dani wore.

Rachel B. – Is this acceptable? I’ve got her handcuffed to the bed so I can take another if you need.

“Oh wow,” Santana laughs once Brittany shows her the text, “Rachel really does move quick.”

“Apparently,” Brittany nods, “And she found a use for those handcuffs she told me about after all.”

“She told you what she was going to do?” Santana scrunches her nose cutely.

“It was against my will,” Brittany sighed.

“I’m so sorry,” Santana teases then glances back at the picture, “This is perfect though. I’m going to forward it to myself. Tell her I said thanks.”

“I’m sure she’ll be very happy that you approve,” Brittany says and gets to work typing a reply while Santana hurriedly sends off the picture to Blaine.

Santana L. – This should do it. Have fun!

Blaine texts back almost instantly and showers Santana with gratitude. All she cares about though is that she and her team are off the hook. Blaine assures her that they are.

Now, it’s only a matter of time before everything falls into place like pieces of a puzzle.

Within a day she gets word that Dani has been arrested. It’s not looking good for her ex considering the amount of evidence pinned against her, but that’s what you get when you fuck over a Lopez.

Santana hopes Dani feels everything she did when she got picked up. She hopes Dani squirms under the hot lamp in the interrogation room. She hopes Dani feels regret set into her bones for what she did to Santana. It’ll only be then that Santana finally feels like she can move on with her life, like that chapter is done and dusted.

Maybe she’s petty for setting Dani up like this, but she doesn’t care. In the end, Karma’s a bitch and so is she.

“It’s official,” Brittany exclaims as soon as she finds Santana lounging on the couch with Quinn.

“What? What’s going on?” Santana sits up while Brittany dances around in front of her. The others notice the commotion and come in for a better listen.

The blonde has her phone in her hand and starts to read off some article for all to hear that explains the Toussaint debacle and how Rachel Berry’s mysterious last-minute date was the one who made off with the necklace and is now looking at a long time in jail.

“You hear that, San? She’s looking at a long sentence,” Brittany says excitedly before she’s wrapping Santana up in a tight hug. The others cheer too and exchange hugs.

It’s the best news Santana’s heard in awhile because this is it. This is the end. They did the job and Dani’s paying for it just like Santana planned and now all there’s left to do is celebrate!

Similar to the day after the Gala, Santana and Brittany grab pizza and alcohol and let the team go wild. Mercedes sets up the music this time and everyone dances like crazy with a slice of pizza in one hand and their choice of drink in the other. Even Santana and Brittany let loose and the others can’t get enough of them.

“You’re so much better when you’re tipsy!” Sugar cheers as she clinks her bottle with Santana’s.

The brunette just laughs and continues to dance on Brittany until Rachel arrives with a box of champagne. Everyone flocks to her and for a moment Rachel thinks it’s because of her, but she’s quick to realize it’s only because she brought the expensive stuff. Still, she doesn’t really mind and pops a bottle to catch up to her new friends.

“You guys started without me!” Rachel looks somewhat offended but Tina just pats her back while Sugar takes the box of champagne off her hands then comes back around to give her a drink.

“Got you a whole box to yourself,” Tina says as she pushes a box of pizza into Rachel’s hands too.

“Is it ve – “

“It’s vegan,” Quinn assures her with a small smile before she clinks her glass with Rachel’s.

“You can never be too sure,” Rachel explains and shoots a weary glare in Brittany’s direction, “I’ve been poisoned before.”

Quinn just snickers into her glass.

“Wait, wait!” Santana stops before everyone gets too wasted. Mercedes stops the music and the others look at her curiously. Santana just climbs up on the coffee table with Brittany’s help, “I want to say a proper thank you.”

“Here we go,” Quinn chuckles to Brittany, “She going to turn into a weepy, hysterical drunk again?”

“She just has a lot of feelings,” Brittany giggles then slaps at Santana’s ass.

“Hey, quit it down there,” Santana swats away at Brittany’s hand.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” Sugar starts to chant and soon the others are joining in.

“Okay, okay! Shut up, I’m going,” Santana laughs before she tries to compose herself. “I just wanted to say that you guys are fucking awesome,” Santana says with a raised bottle, “Thank you for being apart of this. Really, couldn’t have do it without you. We make a pretty awesome fucking team.”

Everyone starts to clap and cheer and Santana laughs as she steps down, bracing herself on Brittany’s shoulder.

“You’re cute,” Brittany whispers and plants a kiss on Santana’s cheek.

Santana just blushes and goes to reply but it’s drowned out by Rachel who’s still pretty sober.

“I do have one question. Really it’s an observation,” Rachel says and everyone turns to her, “I believe there’s a small discrepancy in the amount of money we’re all receiving. Something’s just not quite adding up? Not that I’m complaining, but…”

The others start to panic but Santana just smirks at Brittany.

“You want to tell them?” Santana asks and there’s this Cheshire grin spreading up to her cheeks.

Brittany shakes her head, “You do it.”

“Alright,” Santana shrugs and turns a proud smile to the others, “You thought we were only going after one necklace?”

Brittany chuckles, “You don’t know us at all.”

Now everyone’s even more confused than before, but their eyes follow Santana and Brittany as they walk away from them.

“While everyone was so focused on the Toussaint, no one even bothered to check on the other exhibit,” Santana explains simply.

Brittany moves to open the door of a fridge that had been moved off to the side of the kitchen. It’s filled to the brim with the crown jewels of eight different royal families that just so happened to be on display at the Met and the best part is…they aren’t replicas.

“Woah,” Sugar breathes out.

“All or nothing!” Brittany cheers while the others scramble to get a closer look.

“Oh my God!” Emma gasps, “They’re real?”

“Oh they’re very real,” Santana nods.

“I was wondering why we suddenly had two fridges,” Sugar mumbles, “It makes so much sense now.”

“Wait, how did you manage to do all of this?” Emma asks.

Santana glances over at Brittany and smiles proudly, “The floor’s yours, B.”

“Well like Santana said, everyone was distracted with the Toussaint missing and being on lockdown. We used that to our advantage and decided to go on a little private tour for ourselves,” Brittany explains simply, “Why go through all that trouble just for one necklace, you know?”

“Exactly,” Santana nods, “We weren’t just printing off the diamonds needed for the Toussaint either. Tina made replicas of all the jewelry on display in that particular exhibit.”

“I’ve never worked so fast in my entire life,” Tina admits quietly.

“And it’s very much appreciated,” Santana commends, “After that, it was all acrobats.”

“Yup! And that’s where I called in a favor,” Brittany adds then cups her hand around her mouth and calls out, “Yo Chang!”

Everyone turns as Mike Chang enters.

He’s looking dapper in his dress shirt and vest but his rolled up sleeves make him look just a little more casual. There’s this charming smile on his face as he strolls over to the others.

“Dibs!” Tina, Sugar and Rachel all yell out at once. They glare at one another when neither of them backs down.

“I said it first,” Tina urged.

Sugar waves her off, “No, I did!”

“Neither of you stand a chance,” Rachel turns up her nose, “I’m famous.”

“Just barely,” Sugar frowns.

“Mike here is a former Olympian,” Brittany introduces as Mike joins her side.

“Interesting. I too am award-winning,” Rachel comments.

“It’s nothing special,” Mike replies with a chuckle, “I didn’t win a medal or anything.”

“That’s okay,” Sugar and Tina say in unison with these too-sweet smiles on their faces.

Santana rolls her eyes; the three of them look absolutely ridiculous fawning over the guy but she guesses that’s what happens when you’re cooped up in a house for weeks without sex.

Santana obviously wouldn’t know about that though, she’s lucky enough to get it on the regular.

“Anyway,” Santana pulls their attention back, “He used his sick gymnast skills to help us clean the place out.”

“Being flexible has it’s perks outside of the bedroom too, right Mike?” Brittany jokes with a nudge to his arm.

“Uhhh…sure. Yeah,” Mike shrugs awkwardly.

“You’re so hot,” Tina practically drools over him.

Santana looks embarrassed for her, “Jesus. Get it together, girl.”

“You have no game,” Sugar shakes her head disapprovingly at Tina.

“What?” Tina gasps, “He is!”

“Yeah, but you don’t just blurt it out,” Sugar argues, “It’s like you’ve never talked to a hot guy before.”

“Sorry Mike,” Brittany says coolly, “They haven’t been around a guy in awhile.”

Mike smiles, “That’s cool.”

“Like I was saying,” Santana continues, “While Mike and Brittany did that, I kept an eye out incase any guard decided to take a peek. It was a tight time frame but we made it work, clearly.”

“That’s amazing,” Emma applauds.

Santana smiles proudly, “So with this little diversion, everyone’s cut is now up to about 38 million.”

“Holy shit!”

Santana chuckles at the outburst and turns to Mike, “Mike, you’ll get a good chunk from me and Britt’s share.”

“Appreciate it,” He bows his head.

Santana sinks into Brittany’s side and the blonde wraps her arm around her shoulders while they watch the others implode.

“Spend it wisely, ladies,” Santana tells them and cuts her eyes to the only guy in the room. She gives him an apologetic smile, “And Mike.”

In the coming days, one by one the girls on the team return to their lives with their bank accounts a lot fuller than they arrived. There are whispers of road trips and extravagant gifts to themselves and the start of small business ventures and Santana feels kind of proud that she’s funding that in a way.

She doesn’t really care what they do with their cuts, she just hopes that they enjoy themselves.

Quinn’s the last to leave and she joins Santana and Brittany for breakfast before she goes. She’s not really sure when she’ll see them again, so she makes the most of what’s left of their time together.

They talk, they laugh, they reminisce and then they say goodbye.

Santana actually gives Quinn a hug and she’s sure Brittany’s going to tease her about it later for being an undercover softie. She doesn’t mind though, she knows Brittany happens to love that part of her even if she teases her about it sometimes.

“Don’t be strangers,” Quinn tells them as she gets into her car, “Beth misses you both dearly.”

Santana snorts, “I bet she doesn’t even remember us.”

“She’s a sharp kid,” Quinn replies, “She’s remembers everything.”

“We’ll visit,” Brittany says and hugs Santana to her side, “We’re her god parents after all.”

“Still don’t know why you picked us,” Santana jokes, “Don’t you have any other friends besides us?”

“You think I consider you fools my friends?” Quinn teases right back.

Brittany lets out a laugh, “Let us know when you get home, okay?”

“Will do,” Quinn nods, “And you two…be good.”

Santana and Brittany exchange a look and smirk.

“We’ll try,” Santana lies and they way goodbye as Quinn backs out of the driveway.

They watch from the garage until they can no longer see Quinn’s taillights. It’s weird how quiet it is now after so many weeks of having a full house. Santana can’t tell what that feeling is under the surface but when she looks over at Brittany beaming, it eases.

“So,” Brittany hums as she turns to Santana and sets her hands on the brunette’s hips, “Got anymore grand plans in that beautiful mind of yours?”

“I’m sure I can come up with something,” Santana flirts as she melts into Brittany, “But I think I’ll take a little break for now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Santana nods, “I’ll probably do some of the things I told my parole officer I’d do.”

“Gonna get yourself settled down with a wife and pop out a couple kids?” Brittany jokes with this sparkle in her eye.

Santana smirks, “Is that a proposal?”

“Well I do have a shit ton of diamonds now,” Brittany ponders aloud before glancing down at Santana, “You can take your pick.”

Santana lets out a laugh, “I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Brittany winks.

“In the meantime though, there is something I’ve been wanting to try…” Santana husks.

Brittany quirks a brow, “Finally giving the armpit thing some thought? You won’t regret it, babe.”

Brittany starts to unbutton her top and Santana laughs as she stops her, “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Oh. Well, what’d you– “

Brittany’s words fall short as Santana walks over the short distance and slings her leg over Brittany’s bike. It’s probably the hottest thing Brittany’s ever seen and she watches in a daze as Santana run her hands over the handlebars. She has played this exact scene so many times in her dreams, but never would she have thought Santana would finally agree to it in real life.

Then again, Santana’s kind of been on a streak when it comes to doing things out of the ordinary. Just look at their relationship, they’re actually in one! Who would’ve seen that coming? Definitely not Brittany.

Santana clears her throat and it pulls Brittany’s attention back to her. There’s this sexy, sultry smile on her lips and this mischievous glint in her eye when they catch Brittany’s.

“Take me for a ride?” Santana asks but it sounds more like a demand that Brittany’s all to willing to participate in.

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Brittany smirks before rushing off to grab their helmets.

#Lopezs 8 #FINAL CHAPTER BABY #im actually crying lol #brittana #Brittana fanfiction

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todaydreambelieversfic · 4 years

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Author Spotlight : Syntheticpoetry Day 1

Author : @syntheticpoetry

How did you get into Glee and Glee fandom?

For as long as I can remember my life has revolved around music and theatre. I find it extremely difficult to verbally articulate what is on my mind with words and have always resorted to translating via use of song instead. When I watched the first episode I fell in deep and lamented pretty hard over the fact that my own high school never had a Glee club. I didn't delve into the fandom until the introduction of Blaine during season 2 and immediately fell into rhythm with my fellow Klainers.

In general, what drew you into writing (and/or creating)?

I grew up wanting to be a writer. I think my first great influence was the Harry Potter series. But from an early age I always loved the art of painting a portrait with words and began writing stories for fun in elementary school. It became so overwhelming to keep ideas in my head that I often found myself needing to write them down to channel them out. There was a lot of poetry at one point. Plenty of short stories. As I grew up I turned to writing to cope with a lot of internalized aggression and channeled my emotions into characters, acting out conversations I wish I was brave enough to have or taking out my own anger and sadness in the form of angst.

What was it about Glee that made you decide to write fanfic for it?

The jumping point for me was episode 4x4: The Break-Up. I had latched onto Blaine's character and became obsessed in the wake of his lack of a proper background story, so I felt the innate desire to overanalyze every action and detail leading up to that storyline. Writing, for me, has always been about coping. I saw a lot of myself in Blaine, so in a way it first became another way for me to defend my own actions through use of a character I felt pretty akin to.

Have you been a part of other fandoms before? Have you written fanfiction pre-glee?

I began writing fanfiction at around 11 years old. I was no stranger to fandom life and would often engage in roleplay forums in addition to writing and posting on various websites. I was pretty big into the Yu-Gi-Oh! fandom during middle school and wrote for that. There are plenty of private Livejournal entries I have involving various bands. I have a few badly written stories on LPfiction.net. Mostly I had private instant message conversations where I would write/roleplay scenes with friends, but it was really for our own enjoyment. So, while I have written pre-Glee, my Glee fiction is what I'm proudest to show off and promote.

Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

I usually write pretty angsty stuff, and a LOT of hurt/comfort, but I've been wanting to try my hand at more fluff. I've been gravitating towards wanting to try enemies-to-lovers for awhile now. Also really want to delve into writing some dom/sub, but I'm intimidated I just won't do it the justice it deserves.

Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

I don't know if mpreg counts as a trope, but I really, really am just not a fan of it and can never see myself writing it.

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

The number honestly just keeps growing. The amount of scattered virtual notes I have with snippets of ideas, summaries, conversations is getting out of hand. Right now the one drawing the most focus is a Klaine soulmate AU based on a tumblr post I made about Blaine's pocketwatch the first time they meet at Dalton. So be on the lookout for the pocketwatch AU!

***

Check out Syntheticpoetry’s Fics

And the World Spins Madly On - A few weeks after visiting Kurt in New York and confessing to cheating Blaine is attacked and left for dead, resulting in a traumatic brain injury. Burt finds him on his way home from work and calls Kurt to deliver the news. How will Kurt help Blaine pick up the broken pieces when his own heart is still so conflicted?

I'll Give You The Moon - Sick and alone, Blaine's prepared to spend Christmas on the couch watching old films until an unexpected visitor at the door decides otherwise. AU where the break-up never happened.

Constellations - When the text comes in from Tina, Kurt can hardly believe what he is reading. When Blaine doesn't respond to his messages he thinks his heart may actually stop beating. Shooting Star reaction fic with a little canon divergence for the Klaine conversation I so desperately wanted to see/NYC gang reaction to the news. I promise there is a happy ending in this through the rollercoaster of emotions that is Blaine's mind during this absolutely horrifying ordeal.

#author spotlight #syntheticpoetry

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throwaway3844893 · 4 years

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A non-canon changing of the events in Crimes of Grindelwald

Hundreds of witches and wizards stood up and cheered as Grindelwald ended his speech about dominance over muggles, his arms spread wide as he welcomed the joyous shouts and yells. Tina flinched, taking a few side steps closer to Newt as the crowd died down and Grindelwald continued to speak to the recipients. An encore at hand. "What are you gonna do?" Tina said breathlessly, staring at the crowd that rallied at Grindelwald's words. She turned to face Newt, her heart pounding in her ears as she drank in the sight of him. She shut her eyes to rid of the memory from only moments before,

He felt exquisite against her.

Newt stared at her then, and the first thing he noticed was the smudged state of her lipstick. Rouge was overlapped above her top lip, and it took everything in Newt not to reach out and trace it, to rid of this imperfection. Perfect, pristine Tina, never afraid, was now disheveled and worried. Scared, even. She stared back at him, unveiling the mask she put on to conceal the vulnerable person inside. Newt had no answers, and that frightened him. He didn't know what he was going to do., but telling Tina that would only scare her further. His eyes darted back and forth as he thought of an answer. "I'll think of something," he replied smoothly. Newt shifted toward her, running his hand down the length of her arm. "I always do, Tina. We can get through this."

They moved in conjunction together, all of their unspoken feelings coming to life.

Tina shook her head. "Look at all these people," she replied in disbelief, turning her head to face him. "You really think we can beat all of them?"

His kiss was soft and gentle, as if she was something delicate. Like an angel.

"I do, Tina. I do. I've fought in wars, we have our creatures, and you are the most powerful witch I have ever met," Newt said honestly, his expression soft as he tried to console her, though it was hard with his own panic threatening to spill at any moment. Newt didn't notice the way her breath hitched when he'd called his creatures theirs. He scanned the crowd of magicians, holding Tina close to him.They both knew how the night was going to end with them inevitably separating, dueling in their own separate battles. It's why, when Newt pressed a kiss to Tina's temple, she didn't object. "We can do this," he said before taking a shaky breath.

Tina was the first to pull away, flicking her eyes up to meet his and chuckling quietly. "I l-"

She was interrupted by a low grumble outside; it signified Grindelwald's arrival. They looked at each other once more, lost in the words they could no longer say.

Tina sighed, looking over the crowd and trying to decipher anyone she knew. Across the room Theseus and Leta were stationed together, and Tina was certain their conversation mirrored her and Newt's. She could barely picture the two, about to be wed, parting as they said what could be their final goodbyes. Her and Newt would soon do the same. Grindelwald was wrapping up his second speech, and Tina turned to face Newt. "Let's hope we get out of this thing alive," She mused quietly, searching his face. "And if we don't-"

Newt hushed her and brought a finger to her lips, shaking his head. "Not now, Tina. We mustn't act upon what could happen. We'll survive." Tina nodded and allowed herself to accept his embrace, breathing in the sultry, lovely scent of him. She locked it in a special place, deep in her head to be used only on the days she missed him most, if they were to be separated forever. The crowd below them began to stomp and cheer, and Tina drew her wand before she viewed something that stopped her in her tracks.

There, in the middle of a row of people, was her sister and the No-Maj they'd lost track of moments before.

Queenie, with her plaid dress and monochrome coat, stood with Jacob, who appeared dazed and confused, drinking in Grindelwald's words as if they were water and she were a thirsty beggar, starved for any kind of beverage that would quench her suffering And she was agreeing with them, as if every word he spewed wasn't a lie. As if world domination over those who were lesser and powerless against them was something she was okay with, all for the sake of love.

Newt saw her at the same time Tina did, and he reached out for her, who'd begun to pull away from his grasp. "You can't stop her," Newt said, his voice quiet. Many of Grindelwald's followers were beginning to disapparate, meaning the conference was coming to a close and the time to fight was drawing quick. "Her decision is clear, and we don't have time. We can only hope she's one of the ones who leaves. As for Jacob... oh, Merlin, look what he's gotten himself into-"

He trailed off when he saw the blank, closed off expression on Tina's face as she stared directly at her sister, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. She seemed to sway with the wind, her shoulders squared. It was a horrifying sight, Tina standing like that with Grindelwald's words barely audible behind her. "I'd promised to protect her," she said quietly. Newt watched the wind blow tendrils of Tina's bangs across her forehead, though she let them tangle with each other. "I protected her for years, but-" Tina took a deep breath- "It seems she's outgrown the protection."

With that, she let go of Newt and disapparated.

She landed a few steps above her sister and shoved others out of the way, pushing her way down the steps before reaching the blonde. Tina side-stepped in front of her, interrupting the clapping and smiling her sister was doing. Queenie paused for a moment, stunned, and then pushed Jacob away from her. Tina heard a snap! come from above her and she watched as Newt, panicked, apparated next to Jacob and began to tug on his arm. "Come now, it's not safe for a muggle like you here."

With Jacob safe in Newt's custody, the woman started to speak. "Why?" Tina asked breathlessly, her face showing clear distress. "How could you do this, Queenie? You know he's against everything we stand for!"

"No," Queenie said simply, watching her sister with pure defiance. Tina's eyes flicked up and over Queenie's shoulder, where she saw Newt dragging a curious Jacob up the steps and out of the arena. "He's against everythin' you stand for," Queenie reiterated, her expression stone cold, though hot tears pressed against her eyelids, daring to spill over. The two sisters almost mirrored each other. "I am in love with a No-Maj. Your congress does not allow that. Grindelwald's does. He's not a cruel man with cruel intentions." She kept her eyes on Tina as she spoke, never faltering as her sisters lips shook and breath hitched. "The cruel intentions come from your side. You won't allow me to be happy-"

"I want nothing but for you to be happy-"

"-because you think exposing the magical world is dangerous. I wasn't finished talkin'," Queenie added with a snap. They watched each other for a long time. Tina's breaths were shaky as she processed this betrayal. How could her sister have done this? Her sister, who she'd loved, nurtured, and cared for all her life? Her sister, who she'd been ordered to watch after their parents tragic demise? How could this sweet, beautiful creature turn into someone who followed the orders of a madman? Queenie shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "One of us had to be brave."

Tina gasped then, her features hardening as anger rose within her. "How dare you," she said, and her voice shook. "How dare you imply I'm not brave! You... you are the one whose not brave. You go running around with Jacob, cursed, unable to accept that you cannot love each other, and because of your blindness you've gone to join the most dangerous task force in the wizarding world and for what? Something as small as love?" The two watched each other, both steaming by the end of Tina's monologue. "I raised you, I put everything before myself for you, I postponed my career, I risked my career... everything I've done has been for you. Was that not enough?"

Queenie evaded her sister's expression, instead focusing on hitting the jugular. "You don't know or understand love because you refuse to accept it. You refuse to accept the fact that Newt is in love with you and that you broke his heart all because you thought he was married to Leta-"

"That's not the point!"

"And now he feels he cannot tell you how he truly feels because he fears you're still upset with him, and it's crushing him inside because he doesn't know that you love him back-"

"Queenie-"

"You broke him, Tina. He's closing off again; I know this. He's closing off because of you and your actions. You're losing the one man who could ever truly love someone like you-"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Because despite your flaws, despite your obstinacy, despite your inability to accept any feeling of attraction toward you, he loved you. He loves you for you, and all your faults. And that isn't enough for you, is it? It's never-"

"Why are you doing this?"

"It's never enough. You're afraid of it. You're afraid, Tina. The thought of love scares you, because you know it's right. You know it's right and that it's gonna hurt and it's gonna be incredible but you refuse to accept that you feel it for him because you have this idea that you gotta protect yourself from everything. You love him, Tina, and you can have him. I can't have Jacob. This is why I'm with Grindelwald. He can assure I get what I need. He won't take it away."

There they stood in the middle of the seating in an arena, the blonde destroying the brunette and watching as she broke down. Queenie didn't flinch when Tina pulled out her wand; instead, she took out her own. They were poised to fight each other, though neither made the first move. Queenie cocked an eyebrow, challenging the elder sibling. "Try me," she said smoothly, her violet eyes burning into their chocolate opponents. "You know I'm right, Tina. You know that-"

Newt came rushing down the stairs, interrupting Queenie's thoughts. Without a doubt, he pointed his wand at the blonde. "Don't move," he ordered, surprisingly demanding. Tina had never seen him like this. In a flash he was in front of her, one arm outspread to cover her. "Don't touch her," he said again, eyes focused on Queenie, whose face was radiating pure shock. "Have a go at me, if you must... but not Tina."

Tina grabbed onto Newt's arm, attempting to pull him back. "Newt, what're you doing?" She whispered when he refused to move, his body rigid like a stick caught in tar. Queenie watched the two of them, an amused smirk on her face. Tina realized then that this was what Queenie had wanted; a chance for succor, to have the final word and to force Tina to rush into a life she wasn't sure she wanted yet.

Well, she was sure, but that's besides the point.

"Keeping you from doing something you'll regret," Newt said after a moment's hesitation, lowering his defences as he realized Queenie had no intent on harming them. Tina frowned, backing away and loosening her hold on him. "Queenie," he said quietly, forcing himself to meet the witch's violet eyes. His voice was low as he spoke. "There is another way. You don't have to fall victim to his words. You are not alone. We can fight this law, and break it, together. Grindelwald's way simply won't work."

"No," Queenie said sternly. "I've seen into his mind, Newt, it's... it's amazin', the things he plans on doin'. They'll work. I know they will. And I can't..."

The blonde trailed off again, looking toward the ground as the couple stared at her with wide eyes. "You can't... what?" Tina asked, daring to take a few steps forward.

"I can't fight with the congress that's betrayed me."

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haledamage · 3 years

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Perfect Little Satellites

here we go! the Kira/Adam fic that started its life as a Kira/Mason prompt fill but the wrong member of UB showed up :P I can’t find it in myself to mind though because this turned out really sweet and now I get to use that Mason prompt for something else instead! and Mason still decided to show up at the end anyway

inspired heavily by Satellite Call by Sara Bareilles, which is the song Kira sings here (lyrics in italics). Kira/Adam with a side of Kira&Mason, ~1200 words, very slight spoilers for the latest update to the Wayhaven Chronicles Book 3 demo :)

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Kira couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy for a day to be over. The hits really just kept coming, between the kidnapping, Tina’s dubious dinner plans, Bobby hovering around, and Adam and… well, Adam and everything.

Starting with whatever that was at breakfast. It felt like progress, even with all his backpedaling, but progress towards what she still didn’t know.

No, that was wrong. She did know. Here, on the Warehouse roof, somewhere just past two in the morning, she could admit she knew exactly what was happening between her and Adam. She knew exactly what she felt about him. She just didn’t know how to feel about how she felt; it was difficult to process her emotions on the matter when just being in the same room as him made it hard to think.

She shook her head, pushing those thoughts from her mind. She came out here to try and clear her head enough to sleep, and here she was in the same thought spiral she’d been in before. If she were going to keep thinking like this, she could have just stayed in bed where it was more comfortable and the temperature was more suited to dressing all in black like she did.

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head, letting the quiet night soak into her skin, lending her a little bit of its serenity.

She took a deep breath, and when she released it, it came out in song. “This one’s for the lonely child, broken hearted, running wild.”

She didn’t know quite why that was the song that came to her, but it felt right for a night like this, and in the quiet solitude of the Warehouse roof, she let it out. “Tonight you’re not alone at all. This is me sending out my satellite call.”

“Who are you singing for?”

She smiled when Adam spoke, though she didn’t turn and look in his direction. She’d expected Mason to show up sooner or later, but she should have figured it would be Adam to find her, even all the way out here. She tried to ignore the little flutter in her chest at the idea that he would deliberately seek her out, and instead answered his question.

“For me.” She took another deep breath, released it in a long sigh. “It’s been a long day. Long month, really.” She chuckled and added, warmly, “Long year. Sometimes I need the reminder. This is so you’ll know the sound of someone who loves you from the ground.”

“It sounds lonely.” He walked up to the edge of the roof and, after a moment of hesitation, sat down next to her.

“It is lonely.” She turned away from the view to look at the man at her side instead, only to find him already watching her. She couldn’t help but smile when he held her gaze instead of pretending he hadn’t been staring. “It’s also hopeful.”

There was much more truth in those three words than she intended there to be. In the calm summer night air, it sounded like a promise.

She could tell he heard it too by the way he looked away suddenly, eyes scanning the horizon. She thought that would be the end of the conversation like it always was, but was startled by the quiet, almost uncertain tone in his voice as he asked, “Are you lonely, Kira?”

A denial was on the tip of her tongue, an automatic response, but she bit it back. “Sometimes. Less so, these days.” She admired his profile, the curve of his nose and the sharp angle of his jaw and the barest suggestion of a smile at the corner of his lips, as he kept his eyes resolutely on the trees. “Are you lonely, Adam?”

“No,” he said immediately, fast enough that it was obviously a lie. Then, slowly, he admitted, “Sometimes. But not…”

“Not…?”

Adam turned back to her, the moonlight turning his eyes silver and making his already stoic expression impossible to read. “Not right now.”

It was Kira’s turn to look away now, dropping her eyes to her lap as she felt heat rush to her cheeks. Such a stupid thing to blush about, she admonished herself, but she still had to bite her lip to keep a pleased grin from growing across her face.

She turned toward the trees again, planting her hands on the brick beside her so she could lean over the edge just a little. After a moment, she saw him do the same.

His hand landed on the wall right next to hers, close enough that their fingers just barely brushed together.

Kira only barely stifled a gasp, tamping down her reaction so it couldn’t scare him away. She waited for Adam to pull away, to snap his hand back and say he had to go. Like he always did.

Except he wasn’t. He sat just as frozen as she was, hand touching hers, eyes on the horizon but not at all paying attention to the scenery.

She inched her hand over just a little until she could curl her pinky finger over his. She was reminded of that night at the carnival, when she’d held his hand and they watched the fireworks together. Maybe the trick was simply not to look at him when she did it.

Heavy boots scuffed against the roof tiles behind them, and Kira had just enough time to be disappointed before the moment was shattered. “It’s getting too goddamn crowded up here.”

“Hello to you too, Mason,” she said dryly.

Inevitably, Adam pulled away, his hand slowly drawing further from hers as he climbed to his feet. “It’s getting late. You should get some sleep while you still have time.”

Kira nodded automatically. “I will.” She looked up at him. His eyes were still on her, still surprisingly soft considering they were no longer alone. He looked like he had something he wanted to say. She knew he wouldn’t say it, whatever it was. “Good night, Adam.”

“Good night, Detective.” He nodded to her, then to Mason, and then he was gone.

Mason flopped down in the spot Adam had just vacated, a cigarette between his lips and amusement in his eyes. He made a show of looking back in the direction Adam had retreated in before turning back to her with a smirk. “I saw that.”

She didn’t say anything, just rolled her eyes.

He nudged her in the arm, refusing to let the subject drop. “You and Adam. Almost holding hands, that’s what, third base for you?”

“Oh, fuck you,” she said, but she was laughing. “I oughta push you off the bloody roof.”

He chuckled. “You can try, but if you do I’m taking you down with me.”

"You are such an asshole," she said fondly.

"Takes one to know one," he said in the same tone. He took a long drag from his cigarette and released a stream of smoke into the silence that followed. "He's right, you know. You should sleep."

"He usually is. Unfortunately," she grumbled, but she gave in and dragged herself to her feet. She patted him on the shoulder as she walked past. "Good night, Mason."

"Night."

Sleep didn't come any faster or easier when Kira returned to her room, and her head was certainly not less jumbled up with thoughts of Adam, but she couldn’t find it in herself to mind anymore. She simply reached for the book on her nightstand and resigned herself to another sleepless night.

#kira kingston #kira/adam #twc #this is a weird thing to comment about on a kira/adam fic but I love her relationship with mason so much #but also I love love love writing soft moments between kira and adam #the fact that she's comfortable enough around him now to just burst into song is A Lot and she knows it even if maybe he doesn't #it's been so long since I've written anything that isn't speaker related it's nice to stretch my wings again

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connorandersons-blog · 4 years

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Let’s Give them Something to Talk About

Rating: Explicit Word count: 7039 Ship: RK1000 (Connor/Markus) Chapter: 1/5

Summary: The Jericho team plus Connor need to think up a way to distract the public from the fact that North punched a very important human. What better way than the Deviant Leader dating the Deviant Hunter?

Thank you to @gavincantreedthis for beta reading this!

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Markus paced back and forth, rubbing his hands against his forearms. Connor couldn't blame him, he was stressed too. North had punched a very important man (rightly so, but still) and now public opinion was going down.

The thing was, everyone still thought Markus and North were together. So, they had to find a way to draw attention away from North and the possibility that Markus condoned it because of their supposed dating.

There were a few options, but none seemed to be dramatic enough. Since androids could now legally marry, the population had been asking when Markus was going to propose to North.

Connor hated it. It was putting pressure on Markus where there shouldn't be. He shouldn't have to worry about breaking the news to the public now and have it backfire. Or have people assume it was because of the punch.

Then the door slammed open and North, Josh, and Simon came in. North was stomping her way in while Simon and Josh moved much more silently.

"Those fuckers are saying I punched him ‘cause he was flirting with you! Ugh!" North said, throwing her hands into the air. "I may have kissed you that one time but like, ew! I literally have a girlfriend now."

Right, Connor had introduced Tina and North together after he overhead Tina commenting about how amazing North was one too many times.

They hit it off incredibly well and it didn't take long for the two to kiss and get together. Connor felt like a proud parent whenever the two were around each other.

"I know, we need a distraction. Something to make them forget about that. Just coming out with the full story won't do any good," Markus sighed, finally sitting down next to Connor.

It had taken Connor awhile, but he now felt comfortable enough to place a soothing hand on Markus's back.

Markus was the type to seek out physical contact while Connor generally shied away. It wasn't like he had the best history with being touched. After all, it was generally someone punching him or Hank's rare hugs.

He did his best to at least pat people on the shoulder, but even then it was a bit awkward. The only two people he felt even remotely comfortable touching without explicit permission was Hank and Markus.

Markus sighed and leaned into the touch, smiling slightly at Connor. It's hard not to smile back when someone like Markus is smiling at you.

"You two could say you're dating," Simon said, making Connor practically jump out of his synthetic skin.

He pulled his hand back like he had been shocked (which is entirely possible actually) and sat up straight.

North made a small sound, nodding her head. "That's not drastic enough, but I think this could work."

"North," Markus said, squinting at her. She waved him off, still clearly thinking.

"You need to get married."

"What?!" Connor and Markus said this at the same time.

It made North snort and glance at the other two. "It makes sense. You announce that you're engaged to Connor, and explain that we split up right after the revolution. People will eat this up. Deviant Hunter fell for the Deviant Leader himself."

Connor hated to admit it, but this might actually work. He was sure he could make it believable but this would end three ways.

The first was that they staged a breakup before or after they actually got married. The second was they let it slowly die out until no one even cares anymore. And the last was that they actually stayed married. He highly doubted the last would happen, but statistically speaking, there's always a chance for unlikely events to take place.

"I don't want to do that to Connor, it's unfair. If it just affects me that would be fine, but I don't need to drag anyone into this," Markus said, shaking his head.

That was sweet, but Connor would do anything to help them. He fucking stormed the Cyberlife tower single-handedly for crying out loud! "I'm in if you are."

Markus snapped his head around to stare at Connor, who could only shrug. "No, we can think of something else."

"If it's me that's the problem, then I'm sure Simon wouldn't mind," Connor said, trying to play it off as chill. Admittedly it did hurt somewhat. He didn't have feelings for Markus in that way but he wasn't opposed to the idea either.

Was Connor really that unlovable?

It must have shown on his face because Markus was quick to put his hand on Connor's knee. "It's not that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable and lose you as a friend."

"You won't lose me. From my calculations, it'll only take over a month until this dies down. We announce our engagement and jump right to a wedding if you really want to distract people." Though, the whole world was focused on them and everything they did.

"It's not a bad idea, Markus. If you're both willing then I don't see the problem." Josh finally spoke up.

That seemed to do it for Markus as he nodded. "Alright, but he can't just rush into this. We have to plan this out in a way that feels natural and not like a purposeful distraction."

"Yeah. Maybe let the news 'catch' the two of you on a date, holding hands. Make it look like you're hiding it," North suggested.

Hold hands, Connor could do that. Maybe even a small kiss on the cheek, nothing too crazy.

"Then maybe they can catch you making out. Oh! Maybe against a wall. Not sure who'd be the top but you guys can figure that out." North said, flapping her hand like it was no big deal.

In reality, it was a really big fucking deal. But he didn't have to think about it too much right now. It wasn't like they were going to be caught doing that anytime soon.

Markus's eyes went wide and he started rubbing his forearms again. A nervous tic, Connor noted, but didn't think too hard on it. He was nervous too, so it didn't mean anything. "Are you sure? Maybe they can just catch us on a few dates then we announce our engagement."

North quickly shook her head. "No, you have to work up to it. Small dates first, make the media think they are catching something secret. Then start getting bolder. If someone full-on interrupts you then you can try to play it off or convince them not to tell anyone."

"When the media really starts pushing and asking we wait just a bit longer before you two do your little engagement. You don't have to actually purpose out in public, but I can get you into a talk show to do it if you want." Josh said.

Once again Connor hated how much sense it made. "We'll have to come up with the backstory. The fewer lies involved the better for believability. We can discuss who will do what later. It would be better if all of you knew the backstory too as you probably would have been there for most of it."

He still had his job as a detective but he was often working as Markus's bodyguard (even though he didn't want one) when cases were slow and he wasn't fully needed.

"Alright, so North and I broke up after the revolution. You and I slowly got closer and closer." Markus says, glancing at Connor. "Oh, maybe we got together after that one conference."

That made sense. Connor had been working as the bodyguard but a man still managed to get a shot at Markus. He thankfully didn't hit anything important but Connor couldn't stop blaming himself for weeks. It was totally reasonable that that's when they would have gotten together.

"Alright, sounds good to me. How about how we told the others and PDA in front of them?" Connor asked, making mental notes. He didn't want to screw this up, it was too important.

Markus thought for a second, eyes glazing over just slightly. "North would have caught us kissing. I probably would have been worried about hurting her feelings, but-" he easily got cut off.

"But I don't give a shit as long as you're happy. Of course, I wouldn't tell anyone without your permission but you'd probably tell Simon and Josh that day." North shrugged.

Oh, he'd need to inform Hank on the situation. Hank would be the first person he'd tell, and probably the only one if they were keeping it secret. "I'll let the Lieutenant know."

Josh nodded along before speaking. "We can feed the media anonymous tips saying something like Markus is on a date but we don't know with who. Just enough that it gets them out there and looking."

Alright, he could do this. North wouldn't get in trouble and the public opinion would go back up. Who didn't love a good secret romance? Well, a fake secret romance but no one else had to know about that.

"We should start tonight. I can get you guys a reservation at that new restaurant, apparently, it's great for androids." Simon said.

Tonight?! He thought he'd have more time to prepare. It wasn't like he's dated anyone before so he wanted to do some research. He didn't care if it was completely fake, he still wanted Markus to have a good time and not feel too awkward.

Now, he was being told he only had until dinner time and he was kind of freaking out. He'd have to pick out a good outfit and maybe change his hair.

Ok, maybe he was taking this a bit too far, but he wanted to be a good fake boyfriend. Markus deserved someone sweet and kind who loved him. Fake it till you make it right?

No, no that's not right. He was not making it anywhere. This would all die down and everyone would forget about the whole thing. They'd have their little 'break-up' and then they'd go back to just being friends.

"Alright, Connor do you want to get ready and meet me back here? We can talk over boundaries before our… date." Markus said, flushing a slight blue. Connor was instantly so glad androids could blush after deviation.

Markus was too cute for his own good. It's no wonder they won the revolution peacefully with Markus's charisma. Not to say that was the only thing, but it definitely helped.

Fuck, now he was just staring at Markus. In a purely platonic way, of course, Markus was attractive, anyone could see that. "Right, I'll see you soon then."

Markus gave a slight nod and smile before Connor stood up. North gave him a thumbs-up, and Josh and Simon tried to give him encouraging smiles.

The ride back to Hank's was incredibly slow but that did give him time to do some research. He looked up tips to be a good boyfriend, what type of clothes to wear on a date, and small talk ideas. It wasn't much, but it was definitely a start.

He no longer felt the need to knock on the door, so he just walked right in. At least he wasn't going through windows anymore, which Hank loved to bring up every chance he got.

Sumo slowly got up to greet him, and Connor took that chance to compose his thoughts. He had no doubt that Hank would go along with this, but that didn't mean he wouldn't tease him relentlessly.

"Didn't think you'd be back till later," Hank said, sitting on the couch and reading a book. It was one of his older ones that Hank had suggested (well, more demanded) he read after the revolution.

Right, he could do this. "I've got a date tonight." Fuck.

Hank's head instantly whipped around and the book almost fell from his hands. Ok, that was a little bit of a dramatic reaction, it wasn't like he was undateable.

He just never found anyone he really wanted to be with, and no one ever fully understood him, android or otherwise.

A few androids feared him while others put him so high on a pedestal that it was odd to even talk to them. The only androids he felt truly comfortable around were the leaders of Jericho. Because of that and his part, most people thought of him as a leader as well.

"Alright, come sit. I need to hear everything and need to know if I need to kill someone." Hank said, putting his book down.

The image of Hank threatening Markus was amusing but he had no doubt that he wouldn't do it.

He did as Hank said and slowly sat down next to him. "Ok, well it's not exactly a date, but it is."

Hank stared at him for a few seconds before waving him on to continue.

"So you remember North punched that guy?" He asked and Hank gave him the 'bitch please' look that made him snort. "Well, we decided that there needs to be a distraction and they decided Markus and I would 'date' and get 'engaged'."

Hank sat there for a few seconds before facepalming. "Of course. Fuck, that might actually work though. So you have a fake date with Markus tonight?"

Connor nodded and fiddled with his coin. "I do. I'm to get ready and meet him back at New Jericho so we can talk about boundaries."

"Well, at least that's good. Just don't go falling in love or anything," Hank said, patting his shoulder.

Connor huffed and rolled his eyes. "I won't, don't worry. We're just doing this to help out North and then we can break up or just let it die out."

Hank sighed and shook his head. "Sure you won't. Alright, you better go get ready then for your date."

"It's not actually a date, but I do need to get ready. If anyone asks, Markus and I got together after the conference where Markus was shot," Connor said, standing up.

Hank gave him a hum and waved him off. Connor grinned in return and went to his room, closing the door behind him.

He went through his closet, pulling out outfits and trying them on before huffing and pulling it all off. Nothing felt right for this. Markus had seen him in almost every form of dressing, from his work clothes to his pajamas. How could he make a bold impression?

Oh, this might do. He pulled out a pair of men's black skirt pants, black lita high heel, and a men's solid black lace cut out patchwork button-up shirt.

He put it all on and stepped in front of the mirror. He had to admit, he looked good, but something was still missing.

He grinned at himself before running over to his desk and pulling out the eyeliner Hank got him after he expressed interest in it. He hadn't worn it out before, but he very much enjoyed putting it on.

Once he was done he ran a hand through his hair, making it go back to its natural curly state.

There, now he was ready. If nothing else then he looked good and everyone would be shocked. He loved experimenting with clothing and found that he loved dressing in all ways.

Sometimes he'd dress more feminine, while others he tried to be more androgynous or masculine. He normally didn't dress too femininely when leaving the house, so only Hank really got to see him wear a skirt.

He thought this look was more androgynous and he really hoped Markus was ok with this. He honestly didn't know why he liked dressing in different ways, but part of him was scared Markus would find it odd. Though, Markus is one of the most open-minded men he knew.

Alright, he could do this. Just a fun night out with Markus. Maybe a little hand-holding and possibly even a kiss on the cheek. He had nothing to be nervous about, it wasn’t like it was real.

He looked in the mirror one more time before leaving the room. In all, getting ready had taken an hour, which wasn't too odd for him. He preferred looking well dressed no matter what he was doing.

He walked over to Hank and did a small twirl, showing off his outfit. "What do you think? Is it too much?"

Hank's eyes went wide and he gave him a slight nod. "Not bad son. The makeup was a good choice. Markus is not gonna know what to do with himself when he sees you."

Connor flushed blue but didn't hold back the grin. Hank may tease him but he was also incredibly encouraging and supported almost everything he did. (He did not support Connor licking evidence but whatever)

"Thank you! Alright, I should probably get going. I'll be back tonight but don't feel the need to wait up for me." Connor said, giving a few scratches to Sumo before going to the door.

"Yeah, yeah. Have fun on your fake date kid," Hank said, giving him a thumbs-up before going back to reading.

He did a bit more research on his way back to New Jericho and now felt confident enough to actually go on this date. If it was actually real, that is.

He got a few stares on his way to where Markus stayed at New Jericho, but he took it in stride. He knew he looked good, so it didn't matter if other people thought he was weird.

Markus's door was already slightly open (he'd have to go over safety protocols again) so he gave a slight knock before walking in.

Markus was sitting on his couch looking just as stunning as always. He had his long jacket on with the black suit underneath.

When Connor walked in his head snapped up and his mouth hung open just slightly. "Connor! Oh, wow you look… you look really good. Are you wearing makeup?"

Connor shifted from foot to foot, nodding. "I am. I can change if my outfit isn't appropriate." He really didn't want to, but he would if need be.

Markus quickly stood, shaking his head. "No! No, you're fine. I was just surprised is all. You look stunning."

Connor blushed and his eyes darted around the room, trying to find something other than Markus to stare at. "Thank you. You look good too."

There was a long awkward silence before Markus cleared his throat. "Right, we should talk about boundaries. I know we are doing this for North, but I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

Markus slowly sat back down and patted the cushion beside him. Connor gladly sat, turning to face Markus. "I'll let you know if I am, but that goes for you too."

Markus grinned at him before staring down at his lap. "So I guess we should get the big one out of the way. How do you feel about kissing?"

Connor's heart skipped a beat and he wished he had pockets so he could have had his coin with him. "I've never actually been kissed before, but I'm a quick learner." He hated admitting it like that.

Sure he was interested in kissing people but work and helping his people always came first.

It seemed Markus was beyond shocked because he just sat that silently for what felt like hours. "We don't… your first should be with someone you care about. I don't want to take that away from you."

Oh, so that's what he was worried about. Could this man get any more perfect? "I don't mind, but I just didn't want to kiss you and it be horrible. I've tried to look it up but most say that practice with an actual living being is the key to success."

Plus it wasn't like he had anyone to practice on beforehand. There was no way in hell he was kissing Hank and he didn't really care about it too much anyway. It was just lips touching, he didn't see the significance to it.

"Oh, well… do you want to? Like, can I? I don't want your first to just be out in public, I think it would be better to do it here. Or I can get Simon, Josh, or North for your first. I'm sure they'd all be willing." Markus said, looking between Connor and the couch.

Connor huffed and reached over, pulling Markus to him and softly pressing their lips together.

Markus didn't instantly pull away, instead, he brought a hand up to cup Connor's cheek.

But then Connor pulled back, his heart beating a bit too quickly for his liking. For a first kiss, it wasn't the worst, but it wasn't the best either.

His lips tingled slightly and he couldn't help but lick them. Markus's lips were soft but that was to be expected, they were made to be so after all. There was still something so… shocking about it but he couldn't place why.

"Connor," Markus sighed out, still gently holding his head. Connor leaned into it and stared at Markus. "I, um, wow. Hopefully, that was good?"

He nodded and grinned. "It was. So, kissing is alright with me if you're fine with it too." It was a nice feeling, and he'd actually like to do it again, but there was no one around that they'd have to fool. So he pulled back completely and Markus brought his hand back to his lap.

"It's definitely fine with me. How do you feel about PDA? We'll have to do some but I won't do it too much if it makes you uncomfortable," Markus said. Honestly, Markus would make an exceptional boyfriend if this was real.

"I'm fine with it as far as I know. I'll let you know if it does make me uncomfortable or I don't like something." He's only ever had platonic PDA but even then it was incredibly limited.

Markus made a small pained sound. "Once this is over, are you still ok with PDA? If you don't want to be touched normally I won't, but if you do then you don't have to ask. You can just hold my hand or anything you want."

Oh, that was an incredible offer. He had had the want to hold hands or ask for a hug but he always pulled back. He didn't know what was appropriate or wanted. "Thank you… can I hold your hand right now?"

He offered his hand and Markus instantly took it, giving it a slight squeeze. Markus's hands were warmer than Connor's and slightly bigger too. They were incredibly soft but he also had a few calluses from painting and playing the piano.

Part of him wanted to deactivate his skin so he could feel even more, but he decided against it. Holding hands was one thing, possibly interfacing while doing so was another. It was a bit too intimate for his liking.

"Is this ok?" Markus asked, lacing their fingers together. Connor quickly nodded and lets out a soft sigh.

This was definitely ok. It felt more grounding then he expected it to. "Yeah, it is."

They sat there for a bit, Connor looking between Markus's face and their hands.

"Oh, I do think this is important to say," Markus broke the silence. "When we do get-have to make out, it's totally fine if your body reacts a certain way. It's not odd and I'll do my best not to make it awkward if it does happen."

Oh. Huh, it's a good thing Markus thought of that. He'd probably react and then everything would be awkward. It's good he got this out of the way now. "The same goes for you too. You don't need to feel embarrassed if it happens."

Markus gave a slight nod. "Thank you. I am serious when I say that if anything, anything makes you uncomfortable you let me know. I won't hold it against you and you won't upset me at all."

"Again, the same goes for you too. I'm planning on being the best fake boyfriend you've ever had." He said this with a wink.

It got Markus to snort and shake his head fondly. "I'm sure you'd make an amazing boyfriend, and you'll make a great fake one too."

Connor grinned and gave his hand a slight squeeze. This was going to be his easiest mission ever by the looks of it. Plus he'd get practice in dating so when he actually dates someone he won't be completely new too. It's a win-win situation.

"Alright, if there's nothing else then we should get going to the restaurant. Josh said he sent a message to a news station. We need to be somewhat subtle, but only enough that they don't outright approach us." Markus said, moving his fingers around, making Connor giggle slightly.

He wondered what his hands felt like. He probably had a few calluses himself from holding a gun. Were his hands as soft as Markus's? Did he actually like holding his hand? Was he making this weird by staring at their hands? He hadn't held hands before so he didn't know what was normal for it or not.

"Connor?" Oh, right, he still hadn't replied yet. He blinked rapidly then looked up at Markus.

"Alright, sounds good to me. Do you want to get a cab? I doubt you wanna ride my motorcycle." Connor said, standing up and using their connected hands to pull Markus up with him.

He'd only gotten the motorcycle recently, but he absolutely adored it. He loved the feeling of the air on his skin, and taking turns a bit too fast. It was beyond exhilarating.

"Actually, I'd love to if you'd be willing. I haven't ridden on one and I've wanted to since you got one." Markus replied, pulling Connor out and to the elevator.

Connor swung their arms just slightly, smiling as he did. "Yes! I'd let you drive but I think it's best if you don't have to worry about that for your first time."

Markus gave a nod and when they got to the parking deck, put the offered helmet on. Connor may drive a bit roughly but he always made sure he was safe.

Connor climbed on first and made sure Markus was steady as he got on behind him. "Alright, you're going to want to hold onto me at first. Once you're used to it you can just hang on slightly, but for now, don't be afraid to squeeze me."

Funny enough Gavin was the one that made him truly interested in getting a motorcycle. Plus when he got one Gavin actually offered to show him how to drive it. That seemed to be their bonding moment and now they actually got along somewhat.

Markus leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Connor, but didn't squeeze too hard. At least not until Connor started the motorcycle and revved it. Ok, so he may be showing off, but he was just proud of his bike.

Markus clung to him as he drove, but other than that he didn't seem scared at all. From his breathless laughter, he seemed to be enjoying it quite a lot.

Connor took them the long way and down streets, he knew he could get away with going a bit over the speed limit. He didn't want to push it too far, but he couldn't help it, this was just too fun.

He parked the bike and got off, offering his hand to Markus who gladly took it. He seemed a bit uneasy on his feet but otherwise fine.

Connor pulled his helmet off, running a hand through his hair to try to tame it somewhat. Markus was lucky he didn't have enough hair for a helmet to mess up.

Once the helmets were off, Markus offered his hand to Connor who gladly took it. Then they walked into the restaurant and up to the hostess.

"Welcome to La Récolte, do you have a reservation?" She asked before looking up. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Markus but she soon looked over at Connor and her jaw dropped. Quickly, she pulled herself together.

"Table for two, for Markus Manfred and Connor Anderson," Markus said, leaning closer to Connor.

She tapped a few things into the computer before nodding. "Of course, Mr. Manfred, please come with me."

The two followed after her, not letting go of the other's hand even when they had to walk single-file.

They sat down near the back so they wouldn't draw too much attention, but they still had a good view from the windows.

Markus pulled out his chair for him without hesitation before sitting down across from him.

"Can I start you off with a bottle of wine? We currently have a Meiomi Pinot Noir from California that I would suggest," she said while placing a menu in front of each of them.

Connor didn’t want to let Markus go, but he did to look at the menu. "If it's alright with Markus," he said, looking up and locking eyes.

Markus kept his eyes on him while he nodded. "That sounds amazing, we'll take a bottle of that. Feel free to bring out whatever appetizers goes best with it."

The woman nodded before leaving almost silently. The two stayed still before Connor broke it by looking back down at the menu.

"So, um what’s the best thing that has happened to you this month?" He couldn't stop himself from cringing at his own words.

Markus snorted and leaned forward, batting his eyes. "Oh, definitely this. I've been wanting to finally take you on a real date since we got together."

Connor had to hold back his laughter as he leaned in too. "You're too sweet. I'm glad we waited though, I was a bit nervous about possibly having too much attention on us."

Markus reached out and gently brushed a curl out of Connor's face. Connor went completely still and his eyes widened slightly.

Markus was staring at him so intensely that it made him want to squirm in his seat, but he kept still. "You have beautiful eyes."

Connor's breath caught and he had to break eye contact. He knew it was fake but he didn't get complimented all that much. He'd get told he did a good job or that he was one of the best detectives, but this was different. It made his whole face flush and he bit his lip. "Thank you."

Markus slowly pulled his hand back, but Connor missed the flashes of emotion that went across Markus's face. "Of course."

He always thought Markus's eyes were beautiful but he never brought it up. He knew some of Markus's story and he knew he had to replace a few biocompents. It was probably traumatic so he avoided it altogether.

"What do you like to do in your free time?" Connor blurted out when the silence got to be too much.

Markus leaned back in his chair with a small grin. "You looked up conversation starters too, didn't you?"

Connor sighed out and nodded. "I did. I didn't want this to be awkward since this isn't re-uh since it's our first date out in public." He's glad he caught himself, but that was a little too close for his liking.

"Don't worry, I did the same. As for your questions, you already know baby. If you aren't at work then you're with me." Markus said with a small shrug.

Connor made a small sound before he could stop himself. But it seemed Markus took that the wrong way as he instantly lowered his voice so only Connor could hear. "I'm sorry, is that too far?"

Connor quickly shook his head. "No, no it's fine. I just wasn't expecting it. As I said, I've never actually done this before."

Markus sighed in relief and reached out to hold Connor's hand again. Just then a waitress comes over with the wine and appetizers which was a shrimp cocktail.

The waitress poured their wine out before smiling at them slightly. "Do you know what you would like for the entree?"

Oh, he hadn't actually been reading the menu when he was looking at it.

"We'll both have the Filet De Boeuf with Potatoes Au Gratin," Markus said, easily pronouncing each word perfectly. The waitress nodded, and when Markus didn’t add on, silently left.

The two kept their hands intertwined on the table while using the other hand to sip at the wine and eat. It's definitely some of the best food he'd ever had.

He moaned softly before slapping his hand over his mouth. "I'm so sorry. My processors are much more sensitive on my tongue and it just tastes really good." Wow, he was fucking up a date that wasn't even real!

"It's fine! I'm glad you're enjoying the meal. I wouldn't be a good boyfriend if I let you eat something disgusting." Markus said, taking a slow sip of his wine.

Connor couldn't help but notice a few people glancing their way. It was almost definitely Markus. It would be like the Queen of Britain going into a restaurant, everyone would notice at some point. He was just too recognizable.

Connor did notice someone bringing out their phone and he quickly snatched his hand back and put it under the table. They were being a bit too obvious with the hand holding.

Markus frowned but quickly looked around and saw what Connor did. Right, they weren't here just to have fun. They both had a mission to accomplish.

The two went about their dinner and thankfully avoided any more awkward silences and bad conversation starters.

They already had so much to talk about and even if there was a lull in the conversation it never put Connor on edge.

It was also quite fun to fake flirt with Markus in the silliest ways. They'd make jokes that others wouldn't understand and then use those to throw in some flirting.

The entrees were just as good as the appetizers and before they knew it they had finished their meal. They both decided to skip dessert and Markus paid for the meal. Connor had tried. but Markus had reached out first when it was offered.

The two left the restaurant full and happy, smiling wider than they had in awhile.

Connor felt something odd and discreetly looked around before finding what made his skin itch. They were being followed. Probably by a journalist, so that was good. This is what they wanted.

Connor laced his fingers through Markus's and walked closer to him to whisper in his ear. "We're being followed. Don't do anything too dramatic."

Markus gave a slight nod and turned his head to grin at Connor but also to look to where someone was indeed following them.

The two kept walking to Connor's bike and Connor offered the helmet again. "I'll drop you back off at New Jericho?"

Markus nodded and easily slid into the bike behind Connor, wrapping his arms around him again. This time one held him by his lower stomach and the other crept up to his chest. Markus rested his head on Connor's shoulder and gave him a slight squeeze. "It's too bad you can't stay the night. I was hoping to spend more time with you."

Connor shivered slightly and subconsciously leaned back into Markus's warm embrace. He didn't know if the reporter could hear them, but even if he couldn't, whoever it was would probably be able to guess what was said. "I've got work tomorrow, you know that. I'll make sure to get some more free time soon."

Markus sighed and Connor arched his back just slightly. Probably not enough to be noticeable by Markus, but that didn't mean it wasn't slightly embarrassing. He knew Markus said he shouldn't be embarrassed but it was hard not to be.

He probably just reacted so easily because this was all new. If this wasn't then he'd probably be more cool and collected.

"That's alright, as long as you give me a goodnight kiss." Markus chuckled and Connor started the engine.

"I make no promises," Connor said before pulling out and getting into the street. There was plenty there to work with and he had no doubts that it would be all over the place by the morning.

As promised he did drop Markus off at New Jericho but both seemed to be stalling a bit. Connor stayed on the bike, but Markus had gotten off and handed his helmet to Connor.

"I really had a fun time tonight. We should spend more time together, just me and you." Markus says, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Connor runs a hand through his fluffy hair with a chuckle. "Well, we're definitely going to be doing that more often now."

"Yeah, but real. As friends, you know? You're one of my closest friends but I sometimes feel like you keep part of yourself hidden around us, and me." Markus says, looking between Connor and the ground.

Connor couldn't help but pause. "I… I sometimes feel like I don't know who I really am. I know what I was meant to be, but I'm not sure what that makes me now."

It was hard to get that out but when he did it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He didn't know who he really was, but maybe that was normal.

"You can be anything and anyone you want to be. The only requirement is that it makes you happy. If being a detective makes you happy, then do it. If not? Well, maybe you should find something that does?" Markus suggested, reaching out to take his hand again.

"How do I know when I'm happy? There's just so many emotions and I can't always tell the difference. I know I feel something when I complete a case but what if that's just my programming? What if I'm more machine than alive?" He said, breath coming out in short puffs.

Then Markus pulled him into a hug, and, honestly, it was a bit awkward because of the bike. That didn't stop it from being one of the best hugs he's ever received.

Markus hugged him like his life depended on it. It was like if he let go then they'd both drown, and Markus would never let that happen. He'd stay here forever if that's what Connor needed.

"Connor, you can't get rid of your programming. It is part of you and that's ok. You don't have to embrace every part of it, but maybe there are small pieces you still like. Just because we are machines doesn't mean we can't also be alive." Markus said, slowly rubbing his back.

Connor shook slightly in his hold. Markus was amazing and literally led a revolution, but that didn't make what he said exceptional. What got to him was that he knew Markus cared about him as a friend and he really meant it. He wasn't just saying it to make him happy, he was saying it because it was true.

After a few minutes, Connor slowly pulled back slightly, no longer shaking. "Thank you, and I'm sorry I ruined our fake date with this." He said, trying to laugh it off.

Markus took his face in his hands and looked at him dead on. "You didn't ruin anything, Connor. I'm so glad you opened up, and I'm always here for you. If anything you made the night even better."

It was hard to argue with that when Markus was staring him down like he did while leading the revolution. It was so intense that it sent a small shock down his spine. "I… thank you."

Markus smiled and gently brushed his thumb against Connor's cheekbones. It was so tender that it almost hurt and Connor didn't know why.

Why it hurt and why Markus was holding him like he was the most precious thing on Earth.

Why did this make his heart flutter and his stomach twist? He didn't even have a stomach! It frustrated him because he didn't know the cause. He didn't know why he wanted to run away but also get closer at the same time.

Then Markus brushed his thumb against Connor's lip and he jumped slightly. "Sorry, you still owe me a goodnight kiss."

"Markus!" Connor laughed, gently pushing at the other's chest.

Markus grinned back and moved his hands down to rest on Connor's shoulders. "Alright, how about on the cheek then? Come on, you know you want to." Markus said, turning his head.

Connor rolled his eyes but leaned in. Before his lips could touch Markus's cheek he had turned his head so his lips landed partly on his lips.

"Markus!" Connor shouted again, not holding back his laugh. If anyone was looking out then they'd probably think this was real. Not that it wasn't, but it wasn't the way they'd think it was.

"Sorry, it was just too easy. Everyone needs a little bit of Connor every now and then. I'm just lucky that you're comfortable enough to," Markus said, smirking at him.

Connor flushed and broke eye contact, accidentally looking down to Markus's lips before snapping back up. "Yeah, yeah. I really should be getting home though. Hank won't go to sleep until I'm home safe no matter how much I try to tell him I'll be fine."

He adored Hank but the man could be a little overprotective. He knew why and it was heartwarming but also sad. He really wished he'd gotten to meet Cole.

Markus sighed and stepped back, arms falling to his sides. "Alright. I'll let you know when the next date is, alright? Please drive safe."

"You know I always do," he said with a wink before pulling his helmet on.

Markus steps back and Connor revves the engine before glancing at Markus.

"Goodnight babe," Markus called out with a wide grin. Connor snorts but he can't stop thinking about that grin for the rest of the night.

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