Marina

Sutton stopped short at his words. She had thought she could sneak in quietly, hear what he was working on before being caught. But no, of course not. He always seemed to catch her before she was ready to be caught. His words sent a little flutter through her system. He had /wondered/ about her. She had crossed his mind. Sutton lifted up on her feet a moment before falling back with a shrug. “Is that a bad thing?”

Cameron wrote down a few more notes before answering. “No. I’ve gotten used to you popping in.” He finally turned to face her. “So. Any requests?”

That was as much as Hayden was willing to give in. Whatever Altons ploy here was, whatever the plan, Hayden wasn’t going to be played that easily. Everything with Alton was a game or a dance. Hayden wasn’t going to be checkmated so easily. So all he got from him that night was the drink in his spot. If he wanted something more he would have to do more than just show up every night. That would only work once, Hayden already fell for that once.

Originally posted by fancyeleven

Alton wasn’t sure what to do - not a common occurrence in his life, but these were extenuating circumstances. He felt like a single misstep and he would be thrown out to the curb, and it would all be lost. So he would take it slow and steady, prove to Hayden that he was willing to put in the work, and give him his time. What he should have done from the beginning. He watched the man for most of the night, before standing at his usual time, an hour before close. “Thank you.” He said quietly, when Hayden came back to the register, within earshot. He let his lips pull up ever so slightly at the edges, an almost smile, before he left. 

The next night, he was back, heading straight to his spot at the bar. He sat carefully, eyeing Hayden for just a moment before speaking. “Hello.” Alton said softly, glad his voice sounded more sure of himself than he felt in the moment, although he wasn’t completely certain the man would even answer him.

Hayden watched him go that first night. Shaking his head as he syarted to wipe the bar down. He had to shake it off, to keep to the plan of moving on. Even if he hadn’t even a little bit. Not unless you counted drinking far to much with your brothers girlfriends best friend who was as straight as they come. No, moving on hadnt happened yet but it would eventually.

Or so he thought. He thought perhaps the other man had come by mistake, or gotten his fill the frist night. But then he was back, and again the night after that. By the fourth night Hayden finally made his drink for him. Not even listening to what his server had said rhe man wanted. He knew what he liked best. If he was going to keep showing up, Hayden felt he at least needed to make the drink for him. Still not giving in to anything more.

When a week past and Alton was still showing up Hayden caved slightly. He needed this to stop, it was making things difficult. So that night when Alton came in Hayden made him a drink and put it in the bar by his other usual spot. An invitation of sorts.

Originally posted by gabrielokun

Alton may be a patient man - patient to a fault he had been told in the past - but this was a test of his resolve if he’d ever been through one. He wasn’t certain it would ever pay off, and he had even given himself a time frame. Two weeks. He would come in for two weeks, every night, not saying a word, and if nothing changed, he would disappear. At first, he had said just one. One week, and that would be that. After all, he had work to do. Sure, this had all stemmed from work in the first place, but he couldn’t ignore his overtime needs completely for that long - but Alton had a point to prove. So he sat at the table, work free, and waited. But as the days passed, and there was no change from Hayden, his resolve wavered, and he gave himself an extension. Stoic and unshaken on the outside, completely nauseous on the inside - that was Alton. 

On the fourth night, a drink came that he hadn’t ordered. He’d been ordering Stoli on the rocks with a twist - not his usual, and a completely strategic move. It was how he knew Hayden wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to him. But that fourth night - that night, he had gotten an Old Fashioned, just the way he liked it. No cherry, no syrup, extra orange peel. Hayden had made it, he knew before he ever took a sip. This was progress, the first of many baby steps he would have to make, and he smiled very slightly into his glass as he sipped it, before again leaving without a word.

It was excruciating, the next few days. But a week to the day since the first night he’d shown up, his drink never arrived at his table. Was this it? The end? Was Hayden giving in only to give up? To get him to leave him alone? His heart clenched in his chest, as if in the grasp of icy, vice like fingers. He had come so close, he was sure of it. But as he glanced over at the bar, he noticed something he hadn’t fully comprehended before. It wasn’t just a drink at the end of the bar, it was his drink. In front of an empty stool - his empty stool. Just like that, his mood made a total turn around and he felt lighter than ever. This was what he had been waiting for. 

Standing, heart still pounding, he straightened his jacket - black leather, instead of his normal suede - ran a hand through his hair, steeled his nerves, and made his way leisurely across the bar. He slid into the seat like it was an old friend, one dearly missed, and his fingers wrapped themselves around the glass, cradling it between both hands like it was the best gift he had ever been given. Which it may prove to be - was it an olive branch? A second chance? Only time would tell. Not wanting to push his luck too far, he didn’t say anything, simply sat, happy to be this close to Hayden again. But he watched him still, not as close as before, eyes flitting to the other man now and again, drinking him in just as he drank his bourbon, both just as intoxicating as the other.

The problem with dating and breaking it off with Hayden was simple: when he was done he was done. He didn’t love easily, not when he had lost so much in the past. Nor did he forgive easily when he had been taught he deserved better than second best. So when his beautiful and determined boyfriend started to drift more and more into his work and farther from him, Hayden struggled with staying. But he stayed, because Alton was the first real thing he had in years. He tried, countless times, to make it work. But in the end it didn’t work, Hayden couldn’t keep up with the man and his lack of interest.

It was many late nights working and a few tumbles from the healthy drinking habits van before he started to feel something like himself again. Of course thats when the past had to come back. Looking a bit different, a little rougher round the edges, but it was still Alton.

How dare he come to the bar after what had happened between them. What was he doing there? Trying to prove something? Maybe he had already moved on and simply wanted a bar he knew for a drink. Whatever the reason, Hayden decided not to engage in it in anyway. He could feel his eyes following him as he worked. Pretending not to notice as he flirted with another man at the bar. It was all apart of the job, he got better types from the gay men if he flirted. It helped him that his ex just happened to be in eye sight to see it.

It wasn’t unexpected, to see the way Hayden treated the men at the bar. But it didn’t mean he had to like it. Alton was, at the root of it, a jealous, territorial man, and his fingers gripped his glass tightly, knuckles turning white. (A drink one of the others had not only taken the order for - but made and delivered. A fact that had not gone unnoticed.) But other than that, and from a view across the bar, he came across as unphased. If Hayden was moving on, that would be that. He would get over it and do the same. But at least he would know he had tried. It was like a game of chess, he had to make the right moves, at exactly the right moment. And Alton was very good at chess.

He sat back, nursing his drink as he portrayed the picture of ease and relaxation, even if his insides felt as if they were twisting themselves into knots. It was no matter, what would be would be and he would take it when it came. Just as he always did. He ran a hand through his hair - longer than he normally kept it, and still not used to it, he snagged a few curls, surely messing it up but he didn’t particularly care. Alton had recently found no motivation for haircuts, or shaving for that matter, on his most recent trip out of the country but it didn’t look particularly bad, if he were being honest. So he had left it. He had actually made it back to town that morning, and it had been hard not to come in too early. But he would play his cards perfectly right - he was a patient man, a calculated man. So he nursed a single drink all night, until only an hour before close, before leaving a tip and heading to the door, not a word said to the other man - he barely even spared him a backward glance. But he’d be back again tomorrow.

Or so he thought. He thought perhaps the other man had come by mistake, or gotten his fill the frist night. But then he was back, and again the night after that. By the fourth night Hayden finally made his drink for him. Not even listening to what his server had said rhe man wanted. He knew what he liked best. If he was going to keep showing up, Hayden felt he at least needed to make the drink for him. Still not giving in to anything more.

When a week past and Alton was still showing up Hayden caved slightly. He needed this to stop, it was making things difficult. So that night when Alton came in Hayden made him a drink and put it in the bar by his other usual spot. An invitation of sorts.

Alton had messed up. He was a big enough man to admit that, but the problem was Hayden didn’t want to listen. He was rather proud of his ability to learn from his mistakes - but he had to admit that he was rather scared he wouldn’t get the chance to prove it to the other man. Hayden had been absolutely, one hundred percent correct in his assessment. Alton had prioritized work over the other man, and only when it was too late had he not only realized that was wrong, but that he was doing it at all.

So when he walked into the bar that night, it was because as the person who had messed it all up, he thought he should be the one to put in the work to fix it, to take the first (rather literal) step. As Hayden’s eyes snapped to the door as the bell announced his arrival, he didn’t even have a chance to smile at the other man before he had turned his back on him, and Alton’s would-be smile turned downward. He had really messed up, hadn’t he? This would be trickier than he had hoped. But just seeing his face hardened his already rock-like resolve. This was what he wanted, and now that he had had the time to think it over, he was more sure than ever. So he straightened his spine and made his way to the back corner, to his usual booth - or what had been his usual booth, before the bar stool closest to the register had become his, to be closer to Hayden. He sat, eyes never leaving the other man across the room. He could be patient. He would wait until Hayden was ready - but the one thing he wouldn’t do, was give up.

It was many late nights working and a few tumbles from the healthy drinking habits van before he started to feel something like himself again. Of course thats when the past had to come back. Looking a bit different, a little rougher round the edges, but it was still Alton.

How dare he come to the bar after what had happened between them. What was he doing there? Trying to prove something? Maybe he had already moved on and simply wanted a bar he knew for a drink. Whatever the reason, Hayden decided not to engage in it in anyway. He could feel his eyes following him as he worked. Pretending not to notice as he flirted with another man at the bar. It was all apart of the job, he got better types from the gay men if he flirted. It helped him that his ex just happened to be in eye sight to see it.

“No one.” She murmured, glancing over at him, the hint of a sad smile on her features. “Everyone.” Camilla went on, before a brighter, albeit fake, grin overtook her features. Still, Franklin had been the only one in the house so far to see it. “You’re a lot more than you seem, aren’t you?” It was more of a rhetorical question, a thought that she hadn’t entirely meant to voice out loud - one she didn’t expect to get an honest answer to. But it was nice - to be able to talk to someone almost as herself. If she wasn’t still slightly drunk, she’d be scared.

Frankie returned the smile, fueled by the waning liquor. “As are you.” He teased back, a tease to keep things light. He didn’t want to go back to the heavy cloud they had before. He didn’t want to lose the connection just yet. “Never going to talk about this again are we?” He sighed as they studied eachother.

“No.” Alton said dryly, the door unlocking at his touch as he opened it for the other man. “I thought breaking and entering might be a rather exciting end to the evening.” He watched like a hawk as Hayden entered his home, closing the door gently behind them before following, letting him wander as he saw fit. Alton toed his shoes off before he headed toward the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder. “White or red?”

“Rebel, if we get arrested I’m deaf and you don’t speak English.” He winked with a soft chuckle as he followed in to the house. He looked around the mans home, seeing him all around it. Well what he knew of him at least. It was well kept, clean and organized. Almost like a museum or art gallery. “Surprise me.” He said with a soft warm smile as he looked around. The man seemed to be a collector of artifacts, art and culture. Well traveled if all these things were gathered by him. He found himself inspecting a painting hung over the fireplace. 

“A teacher? Do you mean at Ilvermorny?” He asked, raising his eyebrows as he glanced sidelong at her. That was interesting he wouldn’t have pegged her as a teacher, but his interest was piqued in a multitude of ways. “What do you teach?” He’d never seen the American school - his parents had home schooled him, much to Jacob’s dismay. He nodded slowly at her words as he shoved his hands in his pockets, knowing the feeling well. “I’ve never been too far from here, actually. My family has been in America since…. forever. That’s probably why I travel so much.”

“I teach Divination, or I will be. When school starts up.” She told him with a smile. She liked the way his voice trilled with it words, the soft shifts it took with each word as they turned from thoughts to spoken words. She caught herself seeing more than just his comment about growing up in the states. Marina smiled a bit as Jacob was dawned in climbing gear, Iris close by his side. She could make out where they were but from the sounds of it they were close to the top. “Whens your next hiking trip?” Marina asked seemingly out of no where as she came back to the moment they were in now together. 

“Hundreds.” He spat the word as he stood back up, taking a single step away from her as she drew closer. He stowed his supplies in his back pocket again and shook his head as if it would help dispel his anger. But nothing helped - he only grew angrier and angrier. It had consumed him for years, and he was growing tired of it, desperate to assuage it, but unable to find a way to actually do it. And she was the reason. An enigma - because it only flamed his hatred, thus continuing his miserable little circle. “I have been your shadow since the day you killed me, just as I was when I was alive.” His words were cold, a direct contrast to his actions. He didn’t understand it himself, as he looked down at her. The hold she had on him - it made no sense. He should be able to kill her, to rip her piece from piece and set himself free. And yet, all he could do was the opposite. All he could do was save her life, over and over and over again. “I have no idea.” He murmured, voice a strange mix of disgust and contemplation. “I ask myself that every day, Harlow. Trust me.”

“You....you shouldn’t do that....” She said softly, a raw honesty to her voice. Harlow shifted her weight as he stepped away from her. She knew he wouldn’t let her be close, yet she had to try. It was a magnetic feeling, a pull toward him she was afraid to explain to him. Vampires were connected to their creatures, better or worse. Harlow had known that one all to well for her first thirty years.  But it was different with her creator, he wasn’t a good person and he was eventually killed for it. This feeling with Jansen had been around since before she had turned him, before he had become one of them. The turn had just made it stronger. “You don’t need to protect me. I’ve made my bed and I’ll lay in it whatever it may be. You don’t owe me protection.” She mustered up the confidence to say that, to try and give him permission to abandon her. Deep down she knew it wouldn’t work but she had to  try.

Nicolette knew, in that instant, that it was worth it. Everything she may be leaving behind, all the rules she’d already broken, the ones they’d undoubtedly break in the future. It was all worth it, just to see her smile like that. To hell with soulmates. Who decided that, anyway? Why was there only one person you could be happy with? How could that be when this girl - Ariel, unmatching the one on her wrist - had already made her happier than she thought she had ever been, and they’d only known each other an hour? She wasn’t sure how she would feel in the morning, but right now, she was blissfully happy. Nicolette grinned, reaching to the radio and putting on her favorite station - a hard rock channel. “Is this okay?” She asked, biting her lip as she glanced over at the other woman. “Where are we going? Can we go to the beach? Like, a real beach, with an ocean?”

Ariel nodded, still grinning like a fool at her choice. She hadn’t expected that but she liked it. This girl had so much to learn about her. She reached across to the glove compartment, popping it over and rummaging for a road map. “Call me old fashion or maybe just cheap but Road trips call for road maps.” She held it out to her after closing the glove compartment. “We can go anywhere you’d like. Find me a road and tell me where to go skipper.” She teased playfully. 

“Fitting?” He asked, brow furrowing. “What does that even mean?” Brent questioned, the menu still hanging from his hands, as she didn’t take it from him. “The…. yeah, okay.” He murmured, still mulling over her last comment and missing the second half of what she said as he took his phone from his pocket, punching in the number quickly and holding it to his ear. “Aw, come on, that’s not fair.” He complained as he waited for someone to pick up. “I’m buying you dinner, you know all those meats cost extra. You could at least tell me what to call you.”

Vassago rolled her eyes. If the guy wasn’t so thick she would have almost taken that like a pick up line. But there was no way this guy was that bold. “You can call me V. That enough for you Brent?” She moved to get the ‘cook book’ he had been using, curious who the hell his grandmother had been. 

Blake laughed, his hands coming up to rest on the side of her face gently as he kissed her again, sweetly. When he pulled away, he looked her in the eye, becoming more serious as he spoke. “You couldn’t trust me. As soon as they see how good you are to me - for me - they’ll absolutely love you.” He wrapped her in his arms tightly once more, kissing the side of her head. “Promise.” 

The way he kissed her, the way he held her, it could make her melt any day. The words just turned her to jelly as she nodded. “Thank you....I needed that.” She said with a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go before your super powered encouragement wears away.”

“That’s…. I’m actually really glad to hear you say that.” Max heaved a sigh of relief, like a weight had lifted from her shoulders to see that someone had gone through what she was, right now, and come out on the other side - successful. “Maybe it runs in the family.” She grinned sheepishly up at her, just the words sending a thrill through her. She’d never been able to say something like that before - at least, not as more than a joke. Maxine leaned over excitedly as her sister turned her phone. “No way! The blonde one?” She beamed up at her sister, wiggling her eyebrows. “He’s so hot! Holland, he looks like a greek god or something, please tell me he’s got a brother!”

Holland laughed at her reaction, it was fun to have this sort of interaction with her. The comment about indecision running in the family sending a strange jolt through her. The idea that she was family, blood related family, still felt so odd to Holland. “Those are in fact his brothers.” She grinned, pointing them out as she named them. “Haydens the oldest and the gayest, Mason is next with a girlfriend and a baby and then Charlie the baby of the family you might know from school?” They were close in age after all.