even his fucking wrist is beautiful i can’t believe i have to quit my job now nothing i’m saying is coherent i just told my friend i was making tea like i’m not even doing that why did i lie about it i can’t find my socks nothing makes sense
Imagine that first time Bitty leaves a toothbrush at Jack’s
They haven’t really discussed it but it’s just sort of
happened – Jack left a shirt at the Haus, Bitty left a pair of shorts – and it just
began to gradually build from there. It wasn’t uncommon for Jack to find a
stray sock or two in his laundry, but one morning after Bitty had gone home
from staying for the weekend, Jack walked into the bathroom, bleary-eyed and
yawning, and picked up a toothbrush that wasn’t his.
Jack stared at it for a long time. The bristles were stiff
and straight, the vibrant blue perfectly intact, as if Bitty had just purchased
it and used it that weekend for the first time. Then he left it there on
purpose, next to Jack’s, just so he wouldn’t have to worry about bringing one
the next time he came over. Because there would for sure be a next time, a next
evening or morning that Bitty would need it.
Jack returned the toothbrush to the holder on the counter
and picked up his own instead; brushing his teeth that morning came much easier
since he couldn’t control the wide smile on his lips.
I want a life with you. I want to fast forward this part, right here, when we are living out our separate lives miles from each other. I don’t want our worlds to only collide by text or to touch your face through a computer screen, tracing the outline of your jaw and imagining the softness of your hair beneath my fingers. I do not wish for dates set weeks from now and checking them off on my phone and going to sleep each night, grateful another day has disappeared.
No, quite simply my love I want our universes to be so tangled, so intricately wrapped that missing you will only be an option when sleep finds me.
I want a life with you, a home with you, a bed and the same four walls. I want to brush my lips across yours as I leave for work in the morning, knowing that we will be together when night falls. I want to kick off my shoes and have you rub my feet and tell you about my day, about my horrible boss and rude clients and for you to say all of the right things at the right time, just like you always do.
I want late night runs to the grocery store for popcorn and candy before we climb into our matching onesies and binge watch The Walking Dead and to then lie awake deep into the night, discussing how we would survive zombie apocalypse—you laughing at my terrible survival instincts before pulling me close into your chest and telling me “I’ve got your back.”
Because you always have.
I want those quiet mornings when we’re both working hard, not speaking but existing in the same space, taking it in turns to make tea and coffee and I want those days when our passion consumes us and we tear apart the entire house, like young lovers again lost to each other without a care in the world.
I want D.I.Y with you, building flat pack furniture and arguing over the stupid instructions before collapsing into fits of laughter and cracking open the wine. I want to feel your hand at the small of my back as we throw our first house gathering, each of us filtering into the room to speak to our friends but always catching each other’s eyes and smiling knowing that we have made it, we are here, this is ours.
So please, let us skip this part, press fast forward, let us return to each other and build our life together. I want all of those in-between bits, the mundane every day bits when we will get annoyed at each other for leaving the milk out or not washing the dishes straight away or finding socks at the foot of the bed. I want us to talk about chores, what we need from the shop and which family event we need to attend this month.
I want that small pleasure at a simple life with you because my love, no day is ordinary with you, no day will need anything other than your existence, your smile, your gentle touch.
And maybe I am silly for wanting to rush it, maybe I am forgetting that the distance is romantic in its own way, maybe I should be making the most of this last year of studying before I dive into my writing career but really, truly, I just want you, no more, no less.
You do your best to try and ignore the vibrating phone on the table and focus on the presentation at hand. ‘Try’ being the key word. You’re so distracted by the sound, that you don’t even realize the presenter has stopped and everyone is staring at you, until Lucius clears his throat. He gives you a small smile, and you cross your arms over your chest, “If I pick up the phone, I won’t be coming back to this meeting, and we all know it.”
You’re met with several little smiles from the board members, “Who is it this time?” One of them asks. You think his name is Katsuki.
You shrug, “It’s been a mixture of both my brother and my nephew.”
“Could be an emergency.”
You scoff and roll your eyes, “The last emergency they had was when Alfred was out shopping, and Richard couldn’t find his socks. I am not their keeper, and I am certainly not their mother. I am trying to run a multi-billion dollar company, I do not have time to list off random places things might be.”
The room of men continues to stare at you for several seconds, as a brand new round of buzzing starts up. With a growl, you finally pick up the phone, and simply say, “What do you want?”
“Secure channel, 6978.”
It takes everything you have to not go stiff as a board. Instead, you keep your body relaxed, cover the receiver of the phone, and simply say, “Gentlemen I’ll get the notes from Mr. Fox. It seems to be a bit more serious than socks.”
There’s several chuckles, as you force yourself to walk out of the room.The minute the door closes you sprint. You pull the complicated heels off and you run. You stop by your office just long enough to grab your bag, and tell your assistant you’ll be out for the rest of the day and the next.
The entire time, the phone remains in your hand. Only once you’re safely in your car, do you enter the code into your phone and respond, “Channel 6978 is secure. Go on Robin.”
“Batman is down. He’s hurt bad and in surgery. J’onn is operating.”
You take a deep breath, “All right, I’m on my way back to the house. Where are you, the cave or the station?”
You bite back a curse. If they were at the station, then it was bad. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I’m coming up there.”
“I don’t think Batman would like that.”
You roll your eyes, “That’s Batman’s problem, he doesn’t think.”
The next time Robin speaks it’s a bit lighter, “Some would say he thinks too much.”
“Good thing you and I know the truth.”
“See you soon, aunt Y/N.”
You pull into the driveway in front of the Manner, leaving tracks in your wake. You pass through the door, and throw your shoes and bag to the side. You full-on run to the clock, before hurrying to the cave.
Alfred is there and waiting for you. His face is grim, “The zeta-tubes are ready Ms. Y/N.”
You nod, “Are you coming?”
Your surrogate father shakes his head, “I’ll hold the fort down here. Take good care of your brother.” You nod, before moving through the machine.
It doesn’t feel very different at first. You’d imagine that space would feel more weightless. But you don’t, instead you feel as though you’re vibrating somewhat. It takes you a minute to regain yourself before, you see him.
Despite having watched the boy grow several inches over the past two years, in this moment Richard Grayson looks small. He looks like the child he is, instead of the hero that is typically on the surface.
You open your arms, and your nephew runs into them. He’s too big for you to pick up, but you squeeze him tight. You don’t bother promising useless things; the boy had watched his parents die at age eight, and he’d been fighting crime ever since. He knows that life isn’t fair.
You don’t let go until he does. When he steps back, he gives you a big smile, and offers your his hand. He takes it, and leads you towards the med-bay. You’ve done your best to stay out of this little club; to allow your brother and nephew to spend time with their fellow weirdos in tights.
You’d spent the better part of the past two years running the computers, as well as Wayne Enterprises. As far as these people were concerned Batman was a cold-blooded superhero run by logic.
If only they knew the truth. Your brother was run by family. Since Richard had come into your lives your brother had flourished. Instead of spending weekends out at parties with supermodels, he now spent them coaching Richard’s scholastic bowl team, or going to baseball games. Things like that. The biggest plus of all, was that you had stopped running into his gold diggers in the morning.
Alfred had made that perfectly clear. If there was a child in the house, there were no casual flings brought in. You were fine with that. Your life consisted of work, and “after hours” work. You’d abandoned any chance at a social life, when your brother had come back after years away; with an insane idea that you had foolishly supported.
You pause as you enter the hallway outside the med bay. You’re a bit surprised to find it empty. “The league is in a meeting. They asked me to let them know when you got here.”
You give a silent nod, and watch as your nephew runs off. For a minute you can’t believe it’s already been two years. Most of the time it seems as though Richard had been there the entire time.
Letting out a long breath you slump down against the wall. All at once everything seems to catch up to you; the stress, the lack of sleep, the meetings, how much your feet hurt …and then you realize you’re not wearing any shoes. You had left them in the hallway at Wayne Enterprises.
You let out a laugh that could only be described as crazy. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you never hear him approach. So, when that hand lands on your shoulder, you let out a shrill scream and throw a punch into what has to be solid granite.
You let out a stream of expletives that Alfred would have grounded you for, even now. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
Through the pain you grit out the word, “Startle.”
The man’s brow bunches together, “I’m sorry?”
You bit out your next words, “You didn’t scare me, you startled me.”
When he smiles at you, you consider trying the punch again, but your hand hurts too much, “Either way, we should probably set that. It’s broken.”
“And you know that how?”
That go lucky grin stays in place as he simply says, “X-ray vision.”
And just like that, your brother’s rants about Superman start to make sense. If the rest of his ramblings end up being true, you’re going to make him wish he had never gotten hurt. A bit reluctantly you follow him to the med bay, and sit down while he goes around collecting supplies. His cape swishes back and forth as he walks.
He smiles as he starts the process of setting and casting your arm, “Your pout is the same.” You stare at him, and he clarifies, “You and Bruce, your pout is the same.”
“I’m a grown ass woman, I do not pout.”
“Weird, your brother says the same thing.”
You scowl. “So, where did you learn how to do this?”
“A combination of x-ray vision, some medical training from J’onn, and a necessity from the job.”
You don’t say another word. You wait until he’s done and slide off the table. Without another word you walk back into the hallway, and take a seat on the bench. You stare at the cast and try to think up an explanation for the public.
Not for the first time you wish you were Bruce. Wish you had the ability to disappear for a month without anyone caring. But you don’t have that luxury. You’re the face of Wayne Enterprises and the family. Bruce stayed as far from the spotlight as was humanly possible, and you could understand that.
He’s been in it for his entire childhood. He’d shielded you from it, and now it was your turn to do the same for him.
“Well, well, well. Y/N Wayne as I live and breathe.”
You smile at the sound of the voice, and stand up to open your arms; Zatanna walks into your embrace without a second thought. She hugs you close and you value the contact. “Hi there Zee.”
“How’s my favorite Wayne Brat.”
You pull back, “Exhausted.”
“And apparently broken,” she says laying a hand on your new cast.
You roll your eyes, “I had a run in with a man of steel.”
Clark comes out a moment later and says, “I startled her.”
Zee just smiles, “Has anyone told you anything?”
You shrug, “You know me, I don’t ask questions I don’t want answers to.”
Her smile turns sympathetic, “Sometimes those questions still need to be asked.” You nod, and she continues, “It’s some sort of poison. Off world. J’onn was able to identify it, and he’s in the process of removing it. It’s no longer life threatening, but he’ll be down for a few days.”
You nod, “Great, I’ll get Alfred up here to keep him down.”
“I thought maybe you could do that. He listens to you.”
Your eyes go wide, “Sure he does, just like a puppy who peed on the carpet.”
Zee just smiles as an alarm goes off, “Just do me a favor and try, I have to go.”
You wave your hand, “Go on, I know the drill. Time to save the world.”
She shoots you one last smile before running down the hallway. Superman watches her go before giving you a smile and saying, “It was very nice to meet you Miss Wayne.”
You smirk, “Remember Supes, even steel can bend..”
He shoots you a smile before leaving.
You sink back down on to the bench and wait. Eventually, Richard finds his way back to you, and within no time he’s fast asleep, his head lying your lap. You rest your non casted hand on the top of his head, and take comfort in his steady breathing.
You’re about ready to pass out yourself, when a coffee cup appears in front of your face. “Figured you could use a jolt.”
You blink a few times at the new man in front of you, and it takes a moment for you to make the connection, “Flash?”
He smiles, and sits down next to you, “It’s Barry actually. Barry Allen.” You take the cup from him, and take a long sip of coffee. You relish the warmth.
“Where’s everyone else? I thought there was some sort of emergency.”
“There was. A volcano eruption. They’ve already managed to evacuate the citizens, now they’re just trying to relieve the pressure. I was stuck in Central City with a metahuman emergency, and by the time I finished they didn’t really need me anymore, so I volunteered to come up here; monitor the tower, and check on your brother.”
You give a small smile, “I haven’t heard anything, and J’onn hasn’t come out yet. I think he’s still trying to remove the poison.”
“A scary situation.”
“We’re currently in a space station that’s orbiting Earth. My brother is in surgery to remove an alien poison, because he feels the need to shoulder the weight of the world on his shoulders. Meanwhile, I run a multi-billion dollar company, haven’t slept in three days, and to make life even more complicated I have to find some way to keep him resting for the next week, while the streets of Gotham go unprotected. Which means people will die.”
By the end of your rant you’re breathing a bit heavily, but the smile is still on Barry’s face, “Sounds like your brother isn’t the only one carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.”
You take a deep breath, “What I do isn’t anything compared to what he does.”
“You know when ever Bats is in a particularly bad mood, Zatanna or Robin brings you
up. It’ll be just a simple question, but he can’t resist answering. He always gets this really proud look on his face. It’s really amazing to see.”
You take a deep breath and still, as Richard readjusts. Once he’s settled, you say, “Bruce was there for most of my childhood. He did everything he could to protect me, and keep me safe. I didn’t really understand how our life was so different.
We were so blessed, we had everything we could ever want. And we had Alfred. Alfred is basically my dad. I never knew my parents. Still there’s this bit of a void there, I don’t like thinking about how much worse that void would be if my brother were to …”
Barry is silent for a moment before saying, “I think that’s the amazing thing about life. We make these connections, these bonds that mean the world to us. We can’t imagine things being different until suddenly they are. Then we have to adjust and sometimes we have to rebuild, but the important thing to remember, is that to rebuild we need a solid foundation. And the best foundation we can have, is the love and support of those we love and who love us.”
You stare at him for a moment before smiling, “You’re very insightful Mr. Allen.”
Neither of you says a word, and slowly your eyes close, and you’re out within minutes.
Bathroom Everyone in the castle clearly shaves. Imagine Pidge sitting on a bench trying to shave her legs getting frustrated by the fact that the space raisor she’s using is cutting her now and then and Lance and Keith turning their attention to her and wincing in sympathy when they realize she’s going with the grain instead of against. Lance taking on the roll of big brother and shaking his head sitting down beside her. Keith getting a comical show out of the corner of his eye as he teaches the youngest paladin the way women are suppose to shave. Keith idly commenting on how it’s strange Lance would know that. Lance firing back how he has sisters, but then also admitting to shaving his underarms because why not? Hunk casually joining the fray looking at them all and telling them they’ll all weird as heck and they’re the best weirdos he’s ever known. Then telling them they have wax and why shave when you can wax?
Pidge: Wait so I’m suppose to pull the razor toward me? Lance: Yeeees. Pidge: That makes way more sense. Hunk: Or you could just wax. Pidge: No thanks I like having skin. Keith: I’m with Pidge on this. Question is what are you waxing? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t want to know.
Foodies Besides Hunk, other paladins do know how to cook. They just know how to cook differently. Pidge likes to improvise and sticks to cold dishes that utilize fruits and vegetables. She’s not a vegetarian per se as space doesn’t allow her that choice, however, it’s convenient not to have to cook. Keith is proficient with fish and stew related dishes. Though he’s known for catching any old thing deboning it and frying it. You might be eating space rat, but you’d never known because he know’s how to make it look appealing. Years in the desert will do that for a man. Lance is the king of all things tapas. Orderves and fancy little square cubes of cheese and the like. Also spices the man can spice anything just right. He flocks to light snacks and prepping them while a little time consuming is hella rewarding when people tell him how pretty it looks. Shiro bless the man knows how to make a solid hoagie! Bow down to the mightiest of all sandwiches as this man is gonna blow your socks off with the most stacked thing you’d ever seen. Though he’s known for his subs as well. If it’s a sandwich he probably influenced it somehow. He’s also got his special sauce Hunk can’t even place. Now that’s something!
Hunk: Is that … a tail? Keith: It’s edible. Lance: Well then uhm I’m just gonna leave this here. Pidge: Did that just move? Keith: Come on, I cooked it. It’s dead. Hunk: Y’all ain’t allowed near the kitchen anymore. Pidge: Hey you never even tried my food don’t ban me!
Sick days Each of the paladins have their own methodology to curing what hurts most. Shiro’s preferable to getting those electrolytes up. Tons of sleep and ordering bed rest whether you want it or not. Keith’s a little less hands on, you might not see him while you’re sick. In fact he might be more scarce, but when you’re not looking tissue boxes, or items requested will arrive while you’re not looking. He slips in and out like a ninja posing as a nurse. You’ll even find a scribbled get well note somewhere by your bedside. Pidge is a germaphobe. If you thought keith was missing Pidge is nonexistent. She’ll send someone else in her stead with soup or tissues whatever the person needs. She’ll lend a tablet/communicator to the person so they can stay in touch, but under no circumstances is she going in there to get whatever you got going on. Hunk’s got your back, he’s there for you with soup, he’s the man making most the soup. Soup cures everything, if not that then a heating pad. Depending on what you need being an engineer helps too because he’s able to come up with some pretty soothing techniques or devices to work out whatever ales. Lance is the most compassionate, which is saying something considering how hands on Hunk is. He too will concoct foods to mend the ill although most are traditional recipes from his grandmother. He goes the extra step by giving shoulder rubs, back massages, or just sitting by your bed side and reassuring you you’re not dying from the plague.
Keith: Is this suppose to make my throat burn more? Also why am I so itchy? Lance: That means it’s working. Hunk: Uh, Lance? Pidge: Pretty sure that means he’s allergic. Lance: I’m so sorry. Keith: [Too sick to even be angry.] Pidge: Come on, healing pod for you now. Ew… sweaty. [Trying not touch touch exposed skin]
Laundry Day Laundry day is a bit awkward for everyone. Many a time underwear and socks have been swapped out. Keith often finds his socks mismatched with Lance’s. It use to frustrated him to no end, but at this point he’s conceded defeat and just accepts the hand the universe has dealt him. Lance often finds his shirts getting mixed in with Pidge’s. He’s still not entirely sure how their clothes get mixed up with one another where as with his socks he’s pretty much had it with Keith. Though he realizes Keith seems fairly upset about the turn out too. For Pidge and Allura there’s one thing they hate most. Bra swapping, it’s unintentional and has lead to some fairly awkward conversations when one or the other has realized the bra they’re sporting is not theirs, but in fact is their teammates. The least favorite occassion was when all their pantie’s were bleached out. This resulted in Pidge giving up and going with boxers. The castle had a set of the smallest ones, no one questions it anymore when they pop up in the wash they know whose they are. Often Shiro was the one in charge of folding most of the clothes alongside Coran. It’s a thankless job, but oddly rewarding. It’s just mundan but interactive enough to keep his mind from wandering into dark subjects. With Shiro out of the picture laundry sorting has fallen onto most everyone and they get together on one day out of the week and quietly sort through clothes. The occasional “I think I got your sock,” and “this is yours” is muttered amongst the group. It has some how become a training exercise as sock fights are now officially a thing. It’s a fun way to unwind, but often resorts in Coran telling them to be serious when he walks in on someone wearing undergarments on their head nominated as Lord of the Laundry.
Pidge: I dub the Lord of Laundry winner of this week’s sock fight. Lance: Did you just put your bra on my head? Pidge: Naw, it’s Allura’s. [Smug grin.] Lance: WHAT?! [Tosses it off lighting fast.] Pidge: I was kidding, it was Hunk’s. Hunk: Fuck you guys.
just another lil something as I need to move my butt and start posting more! This is a tad drunk / sleepy Harry.
“I’m s’not drunk.” Harry amusingly giggled like a child, showing you his teeth as he thought of what to say next. His eyes were on you, and they made you feel good inside. His glances were like no one else’s.
“Snot?” You asked, his smile slightly vanished, he looked at you not understanding your words.
“S’what?” Harry asked you again. He sat up straight on the padded chair and rubbed his eyes like a child wanting sleep. He focused on you again. His soft pink lips went to open, but quickly shut again as he lost his train of thought.
“Why are you speaking like that?” You asked with a smile, putting the straw in your mouth and drinking from your pitcher. God you loved him, the pair of you loved nothing more than taking the piss out of each other.
“Don’t laff, it’s ‘m accent. I’m not from ‘round ‘ere ya’now.” He said looking down, he acted embarrassed but the smile on his face said completely different. He really didn’t know what he was saying by this time, he had the same amount of drinks as you did, but when he eventually hurried off to the toilet, not wanting to break the seal. You switched his G&T for Tequila, Harry’s demon of all alcoholic drinks.
“Where you from then baby?” You asked him. Of course you knew where he was from. You were girlfriend, but it was fun to mess with him when he was drunk. His hand held yours, fiddling with a ring on your tiny index finger. Harry loved your hands, they were tiny, which he loved, and they were dainty, which always made him laugh, he found it funny how every time he held your had it reminded him of when he hold hands with Lola, his 3 year old niece.
He’d been gone a month and a half, and you were missing him horribly. Face-times and text’s were not enough make either of you feel better. You were craving him, you’d wake up aching for him, your entire body needed his touch, you deserved it. Two days, he promised, two days left and he’d be home and he’d make it up by going to the bar where you first met, sit at the same table, order the exact same drinks, and have the exact same conversation you had that night.
It was a shit conversation. You both knew it. You wanted each other, and that was before you started ordering numerous concoctions. The heat, the passion, the eagerness was there, but neither of you admitted it, you both remained calm, no eagerness shown. You laughed hard at his really shit dad jokes, and he acted really interested in the degree you were studying although he didn’t know what astrobiology was.
And you didn’t know that he was secretly throbbing under his black ripped skinny jeans, and he didn’t know that you were soaking from the thought of that tongue being inside you tonight.
The night carried on, and more drinks were poured. You both over thanked the waitress each time she brought the drinks over, embarrassing fits of giggles escaped your mouths as you tried to reenact voices of television characters you used to watch when you were both little. The night was ending soon and there was nothing you could both do to stop time, neither of you wanted to go home and you both definitely didn’t want to go home alone…
“I’m from, ‘uh.. I’m from Scot - ta - fornia.” He said to you. He said it again to himself and nodded. “I’m from Scottafornia.” He smiled, and took another sip of his ‘G&T’. He struggled to find the straw, his eyes were located on the straw, yet his mouth was having trouble and couldn’t find it.
You cleared your throat. Scotland and California maybe?
“Are you now?” You asked, very amused at his answer. “What’s it like there? Sounds like it’s hot but also cold?” He watched you speak, he couldn’t quite understand why you had such a smile on your face.
“S’nice. Real nice.” He said proudly, so unaware of his mistake.
“Baby, take ‘meh shoes off’t.” Harry whined.
You looked at him and put your hands on your hips. “Harry I’m your girlfriend not your bloody mother.” You barked at him. He looked at you and gave you the pout he knew would win you over, it did, you leant across and took his shoes off.
“Not my socks Y/N!”
His voice shrieked. You looked up at him ands eyes were wide. You couldn’t help but laugh, but he frowned at you and mumbled to himself.
“No socks to be worn in the bed, you know the rules.”
He did know the rules, time and time again you’d get into bed and find numerous amount of socks just rolled up under the covers. You thought you were going mad, but you weren’t. You’d sit up and throw the socks out of the bed, lay back down and still find some. Harry loved to wear his socks to bed. You though, you hated it.
He got under the covers of your bed and scowled at you, while mumbling something that sounded similar to what you’d just said, but you decided to ignore it. You got undressed and put some pyjamas on. You went downstairs to get a glass of water for Harry, who was a lot more drunker than you.
You placed his glass of water on his bedside table and crawled into bed next to him. He immediately turned over to face you. “Got you something, for your feet.” You said with a little smile playing at your lips.
“Hope it’s ‘ma socks.” He said bluntly. You could see him rubbing his legs together under the duvet. You let out a little laugh again. Not like Harry to be dramatic.
You move the hot water bottle from your stomach to his hands so he could feel what you were on about. “Here.” You watched him. His face relaxing to the warmth. He smiled at you and ever so quickly got under the covers to place it under his feet.
You smiled and got comfortable, pulling the duvet that smelt of Harry up to your neck and letting out a little sigh of relief that neither of you have been sick yet.
“Y/N, baby.” Harry started.
“’Fanks for the hot water bottle,” He said slowly. He moved closer to you wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in your neck. He left little kisses, and let out a little sigh.