Angus McDonald normally wears his hair buzzed down pretty close to his scalp. It’s easier to manage that way. But in recent months he’s been very busy, with school and new cases and making sure to spend as much time as he can with all of his new family, and now it’s much longer.
Lup told him yesterday that she liked his little ‘fro, but Angus can’t shake the feeling that this particular hairstyle is not conduscive to inconspicuous detective work. He’s with Taako and Kravitz for the week, and is just about to buzz the whole thing off, when he hears the familiar tearing noise that means Kravitz is back, and gets another idea.
“There you are Angus, Taako told me you’d be here, I’m sorry I wasn’t around to welcome you home last night,” Kravitz says when Angus walks into the living room downstairs.
“It’s alright sir! But, umm, actually I was wondering if you could help me something? It’s alright if you can’t or don’t want to I imagine it takes a long time and lots of work and I know you’re probably tired and-“
“Angus,” Kravitz interrupts, “of course I’ll help you. What is it?”
“Um,” Angus tugs at his curls for a second or so before answering. “I was wondering if you could help me do my hair… so that it’s like yours…”
Kravitz blinks, and then smiles.
When Taako gets home he finds the pair of them in the living room, Kravitz is sitting on the couch with Angus between his knees on a little cushion. While Kravitz is carefully parting and twisting together Angus’ much shorter locs, Angus reads aloud from the newest Caleb Cleveland novel, squinting a bit without his glasses. It looks like they’re about halfway done. In the doorway of their little house, Taako’s heart swells (twice over, actually, when he spies the little pile of enchanted silver beads Kravitz is picking from every now and again).
They haven’t noticed him yet, and so Taako loudly clears his throat, and says, “I suppose this means you haven’t started dinner yet?”
They both look up and give almost identical sheepish grins and Taako is nearly floored by the domesticity of it all.
“Sorry Love,” Kravitz answers. “He asked for my help.”
“No, no it’s fine, I’ll just do everything around here like always,” Taako replies, strolling towards the kitchen to make those little personal pizzas that are Angus’ favorite, that he’d already been planning on making anyway.
Kravitz is a section away from being done with Angus’ hair by the time dinner is ready. When he’s finished, Angus darts up the stairs to the bathroom mirror and comes back down a minute later wearing a smile so big it looks like his face might split in two.
A/N : SO many of you asked for a part two, so here it is!! I hope you all enjoy!!
Warning ; language?
Work had been such a pain in the ass this entire week. You were exhausted and annoyed, and part of you wanted to quit.
But it was your dream. Even if you were playing as assistant for now, you knew it would all be worth it in the end.
Luckily you had someone to keep you from going crazy.
Jensen had texted you almost every single day since you had accidentally texted him instead of your best friend, Bonnie.
He was the only thing that you looked forward too. Which you weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
Having someone to vent too, talk to about anything and not feel judged. It was beyond the best feeling in the world. It almost felt like you had known him forever.
But tonight, you two planned to finally FaceTime each other.
No more hiding behind texts.
You were kind of nervous, but also excited. To talk to the actor you had crushed on forever. It all felt so surreal.
Laying in bed, you saw your phone light up and his name appear on the screen. Immediately your stomac fluttered.
“You got this.” You whispered to yourself.
You gently pressed the green button answer the call, and breathed in a sharp breath.
Once the picture cleared, and you were finally able to see his face, you Felt like you were on cloud nine.
Jensen had a big smile on his face, as he looked at his screen. There you were on his phone. No longer a still picture that he looked at almost everyday. You were mesmerizing to say the least, breath taking.
He was excited and nervous about this moment since you agreed to FaceTime the night before. It was the only thing he could think about, which kept messing him up during his scenes.
“Your voice is a lot higher than I imagined.” You chuckled. “I guess I was expecting Dean’s voice.”
Jensen belted out into laughter, his head cocking back. Once he was able to compose himself, he cleared his throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He said, making his voice low.
After a while, you both went back and forth for what seemed like an eternity. He talked about his life as an actor and how much he enjoyed it. And you talked about your life.
There was never a dull moment which was weird since you were used to those awkward pauses and short conversations with the guys you dated.
“Okay-” you said, laying on your side as you plopped your phone down beside you, with a pillow holding it up so you didn’t have to use your hand. “What’s your favorite prank you’ve done on set?”
Jensen purses his lips and thought just for a second before remembering the craziest thing he had done.
“Well this one time, Jared and I wanted to mess with the new guy, which in this case was misha.” He said. “Well while he was taking a shower in his trailer, Jared and I snuck in, took all of his clothes and towels and left an elephant g-string. Let’s just say, he wasn’t too thrilled.”
“Oh my god.” You laughed so hard, your entire body was shaking. Your stomach constricted and you couldn’t stop.
Jensen watched you through his screen, admiring the pure sound of your laughter. He decided to take a screenshot, to remember this moment forever.
“Oh my god!” You said once again. “I can only imagine what he looked like.”
“Yeah–"he chuckled. “Wasn’t a pretty sight.” Jensen leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his eyes as he yawned. Tilting his head back.
“Tired, old man?” You teased. He returned his gaze back to his screen, and flashed a smirk. “Just a little.”
“I can go so you can get some sleep.”
Jensen sighed, wishing to see you in person. To feel you and actually meet you. It’s only been two weeks, but it’s been the best two weeks of his life. No one has ever made him feel the way you made him feel. It was strange. He didn’t want to hang up, let alone stop talking to you. If he could, he would stay on the phone forever.
“Not yet.” He said. “I don’t want to say bye yet.” Your lips curved into a soft smile, feeling your stomach flutter.
“Me neither.” You muttered.
Jensen walked over to his bed, and laid down. His body resting into the mattress.
This was the moment he was going to cherish forever. The first night you two actually spoke to each other, and it was everything he imagined and more.
“Comfortable?” You asked.
He smiled. “Yeah, feels good to finally lay in bed.”
“I know what you mean.” You chuckled. “I look forward to it every day.”
“Well now you have something else to look forward too.” He said.
You cocked your brow, intrigued by his statement. “Oh yeah? What else do I have to look forward too?”
bitty has outgrown this place, and the people in it.
tw: homophobic language/slurs
word count: 1800
for @stitchedopen, 3rd place winner in my fic giveaway! i hope you like it!
The clinking of Jack’s fork against his plate as he sets it down is very unnerving. It’s not the only sound in the room but it’s by far the loudest, to him at least. Even louder than Suzanne’s pleasant babbling (no wonder where Bitty gets it from) and the gentle lull of music being played on a radio somewhere in another room. Probably the kitchen, where Bitty’s finishing up supper.
There’s a shuffling around the corner and Coach becomes visible as he nears the bottom of the staircase. “Jack,” he mumbles gruffly in greeting, giving him a nod and sitting at the head of the table.
“Hello, Mr. Bittle,” Jack replies, smiling a little. “How’s the season going? Still the reigning champs of Morgan County?” If there’s one thing Jack knows he can get Coach to talk about, it’s football. It might be a much different sport than hockey, Jack surmises, but the passion they share for their sports is more than enough for them to hold a conversation.
“Oh, they lost their first game of the season last week. Nevin’s got an injury and we had to switch around the lineups– you remember, Nevin, receiver, curly hair, he’s in the team picture in the living room– anyway, I’m sure it hurt their chemistry.” Coach would talk strategy with Jack for hours, if it was up to him, but Eric is coming into the dining room now. He’s got on yellow oven mitts with tiny white flowers, and he’s holding a tray with a roast and some vegetables.
“The meat’s a little dry, Lord help me, I should stick to baking,” Eric laughs, setting the tray down on the table. “But all the vegetables should be good and I’ve got some pumpkin muffins with a fantastic cream cheese frosting waiting for us in the kitchen.” Everyone starts to serve themselves. The meat’s not dry at all, but Jack keeps that to himself. Sometimes Bitty needs little things to dwell on, to keep himself busy so he’s not worrying so much about the big stuff. Jack knows that.
“So,” Suzanne starts after a minute, and Jack can tell that this is going to be a long one. He glances up at her, a signal that he’s listening. “The Gardeners are having a potluck this Friday, and they sent us an invitation.”
Bitty nearly drops his fork. “The Gardeners?” he hisses. “As in, Melissa and Kyle?”
“Those Gardeners,” Suzanne replies smugly. Jack and Coach exchange a look, humor gleaming in both of their eyes. The drama is about to unfold, they can tell. “What right do they think they’ve got, inviting us to their potluck after what happened at ours?”
Bitty turns to Jack, waving his hands as he speaks. “Two summers ago, we held a potluck here for the neighborhood, and when the Gardeners showed up, Kyle was drunk as a skunk and knocked over our entire dessert table. The whole thing! It was all ruined! And it would have been okay, but they didn’t even bring anything to the potluck in the first place, and they never apologized, and oh, it was such a mess, everyone tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal but darlin’ you should’ve seen the look on Moomaw’s face, I swear she was on the verge of a heart attack.” He shifts abruptly back toward Suzanne. “Mama, we’ve got to go.”
“Oh, I know that, of course we do. Dicky, what you’ve gotta do is bake the best pie those folks have ever tasted, let them know exactly what they were destroying when they had the nerve-”
Jack hums quietly, making a mental note. Potluck on Friday. Prepare for a spectacle.
Bitty’s fingers press against Jack’s neck as he helps him straighten his collar. Jack doesn’t really need the help, he supposes, but the contact is welcome, brief but full of warmth, not the kind of affection Jack usually gets when they’re with Bitty’s parents. They’ve been trying really hard, Jack can tell, and Bitty has too. But he understands why Eric sometimes has trouble being soft with Jack around Suzanne and Coach.
“Don’t you just look dashing,” Bitty says with a smile, placing his hand flat on Jack’s chest.
“Only because you picked my outfit,” Jack laughs. Bitty laughs with him, nodding in agreement. He’s got little crinkles at the edges of his eyes when he laughs, and Jack rubs his thumb over them, absent minded.
“You ready, Dicky?” Suzanne calls from the kitchen. The noises of the coffee pot stop and Jack can hear her pouring herself a cup.
“All ready!” Bits yells back. He reaches up his hand and squeezes Jack’s wrist before whirling around into the kitchen. Jack watches Bitty’s hips swing as he leaves, his jeans a little tighter than usual since he’s outgrown some of the clothes that he left here during the school year, and wonders if wore them on purpose.
The potluck is bustling. There are people of all ages, from the tiny toddlers playing in the Slip ‘N Slide far left in the back yard to the old ladies knitting underneath the sugar maple next to the house in a comically stereotypical manner. Jack opens Eric’s door for him not out of chivalry but out of necessity– when he emerges from the car, his arms are full of tupperware containers.
“Let me take some, bud” Jack offers, but Bitty shakes his head.
“I’ve got to bring them over myself.”
“This one’s cherry with a lattice crust,” Eric is explaining as he removes the lid from the nearest tupperware container. The egregious Melissa Gardener turns out to be a petite brunette with a smattering of freckles across her upturned nose. “And this one’s pumpkin, I know it’s not really the season but I had some materials left over from the muffins I made the other night and I’m sure it’ll be just delightful, I made the whipped cream myself– now, they’re all desserts. I was sure you’d need some.”
Jack stifles a laugh. The bite in Bitty’s voice is unmistakable. “Where should I set them?” Eric asks, still sweet as sugar but with a lilt that suggests this isn’t an innocent question. “This table seems a little… unsteady. I wouldn’t want them to fall, heaven forbid.”
“This table’s fine,” Melissa ensures him, smiling. “Thank you so much for the contributions.”
“It’s nothing at all.”
They burst out laughing as soon as she leaves, Bitty collapsing into Jack’s chest. Jack’s arms come around him automatically and squeeze. “Bits, that was cold.”
“Really? Here I was, thinking I was being so courteous.”
They stay in the embrace for a few more seconds before Bitty shifts away from Jack. It’s subtle, but Jack understands. He squeezes Bitty’s shoulder and then takes a step away. Bitty’s out to everyone who matters, but some people don’t know. And some still have their prejudices.
“Bits, where’s the bathroom?” Jack asks. The noise is already getting to him. He knows he’s got a while of this to go, and he’s sure he’ll be fine, but he just needs a minute to adjust. Eric points him in the right direction, then goes back to arranging the pies on the table.
“Eric!” Bitty whips around. It’s a tall guy with acne scars in a red polo shirt. Bitty looks up, his face ghostly stricken for a second, then paints a big smile on.
“Hey, Todd,” he replies as the guy moves closer. “How have you been.”
“I’ve been fine, thanks,” Todd says. Eric tugs on the bottom of his shirt and glances over at Jack, entering the house. “Who’s the guy?” Todd asks, nodding toward him.
“Jack,” Eric says. “My… my boyfriend.”
Todd smiles. He turns his gaze to Bitty. “I’ve gotta say, Eric, I’m impressed! I expected you to come home with some twinky faggot in a pink H&M scarf.”
Eric inhales sharply. “Go away,” he says quietly, looking at his shoes. “My love life is none of your business.”
“We all knew you were a homo, Bittle, I guess it’s just a little surprising that you’re still showing your face around here. Are you queers ever gonna stop shoving your agenda in our faces? Huh? Go back to Samwell, eh?” He’s inching closer now, and Eric’s cheeks are flaming red.
“Go fuck yourself,” Eric mutters, turning his back. He unstacks a tin of macadamia nut cookies from his lemon meringue, and opens it. His hands are shaking as he spreads them out artfully.
Todd ignores his response, instead reaching over Bitty and sweeping up several cookies. “Don’t mind if I do,” he says as he stuffs one in his mouth. “Mmm,” he replies, smirking. “They’re a little bit… fruity, don’t you think?”
“That’s not even funny,” Eric rolls his eyes. “Get the hell away from me.”
“And if I don’t?”
There’s a hand on the back of Bitty’s neck and he’s flinching, he’s freezing, he can’t move he can’t breathe–
“If you don’t,” Jack whispers, his voice robotic and cold. “I’ll beat the shit out of you, and you can crawl home to your mother and tell her you got your ass handed to you by a faggot. Does that sound like a good enough reason to stop?”
Todd takes a step back. “Don’t you fucking touch me,” he hisses at Jack. “You’re not from around here, are you? You don’t know who my dad is, do you?”
“Let me guess. Mayor of some town I’ve never heard of? Principal of the local high school? Do you know who my father is, noune?” Jack puffs up his shoulders. “Because I can guaran-fucking-tee that my dad is a hell of a lot worse to mess with than yours. So you might just wanna step off.”
“Whatever. I shouldn’t be talking to y’all anyway. Just in case it’s contagious, you know?” Todd smirks.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Jack says, still matter of fact, balling his fists and lunging toward Todd. Todd flinches, but the blow doesn’t come. Bitty’s caught the back of Jack’s t-shirt in his hand.
“Jack, honey, it’s okay. I can handle it.”
“But this– this asshole–”
“Trust me, sweetpea, I’ve got this.” Eric smiles.
“Yeah, you’re sure gonna take care of me, Bittle, what can you weigh, a hundred and ten? I bet you couldn’t even–”
“Pity,” Eric says sweetly as the pie tin slides down Todd’s face, then down his shirt, coating him in cherry filling. “That lattice crust was gorgeous.”
“You– you–” Todd splutters, wiping cherry crud out of his eyes, but Bitty and Jack are already walking away.
“Enjoy the snacks, Melissa,” Eric calls over his shoulder as they make their way to the car. “We’re gonna head out.”