Shoop, Baby

“Okay be a doll and get me some ice for my knees. I took a fall last night, and they’re fucking wrecked. Seriously look at them, they’re black. It looks like I spent the night giving blowjobs on the street corner.”

“Chill, Punky Brewster. The ice is right over there – where it always is,” Maverick gave Piper an amused look, finishing up the glass he had in his hands. They hadn’t opened yet, and he was taking his time looking busy before the club opened up. The sooner they opened, the sooner he could leave. “When I did that, I invested in like these cotton balls. I’d tape them to my knees before I went out. Never got a bruise doing any street corner blowjobs, thank you very much.”

Ally: I miss youuuu

Ally: you are the only man for me, so let's just say fuck it and marry each other.

“Sounds like you’re just in desperate need of a distraction,” he said, wondering if his evaluation would yield a cold shoulder, or a glare. Amos didn’t use probing questions like that on most people, and instead preferred to keep his head down and work when he had a patron in his chair. But his familiar with Maverick fostered a sort of back-and-forth he couldn’t get anywhere else. His connections in Montreal were stiflingly limited, and despite himself, he took advantage of the younger man’s visits to feel normal. Like this was home.

Amos pulled back as well when Maverick did, noticing the recoil. It was hard to reveal scars to someone; he knew the constant itch to hide them. Even though he never faced his own insecurities very often (in fact, he owned them most of the time), there were dark moments when the itch got so bad, he’d tried to claw it out of his skin … 

“Well, shit. You’re no fun, you know that?” he grumbled, standing and beginning to gather the supplies he’d need. He’d just put together a new gun, but after a moment’s thought, he decided against using it in favour of his favourite gun. When he’d first started, it was the only one he’d use. Now, he kept it for special occasions, special patrons. He considered it an extension of his arm. He was grabbing ink from beneath the counter when Maverick’s words caught him by the scruff of the neck. “Reagan?” he asked, slowly rising with a small container of black ink - like a plastic thimble. “That was you she hit on New Year’s? Shit.” Amos ran a great paw down the length of his face and dropped his head back on his shoulders. “That woman.”

“Maybe,” Maverick agreed quietly, almost sure that was the case. He huffed out the breath he was holding, raising an eyebrow at Amos and his reaction. “What, did she tell you about it?” he asked, suddenly curious as to what she had to say for herself. “She didn’t even have insurance, Amos. Not only that, but I’m sure she still has the hots for you. What’s with that, anyway? I wanna hear all about the relationship drama.” Maverick’s grin tugged at his features, simply because he liked hearing other people’s woes when it came to their relationships. His were always trainwrecks, so it was almost nice to hear someone go through the same thing. 

She felt so pathetic crying right now, but she couldn’t help it. Every nerve in her body was telling her to do so and pushing her to just finally break down. And honestly, she needed it. She needed to stop acting like she was okay all the damn time when she wasn’t. It was a hard pill to swallow, however. She didn’t break easily but this was certainly doing the job. “Right, me beat his ass? I may have the mouth of a fucking truck driver but the most I can do it beat your scrawny ass up.” This was the closest she had gotten to acting like her normal self. And through the crying, she even managed to give him a small smile to match her words. “I have no idea. Li.. Liana she, uh… he ran away after he hit her. The police have only asked me a few questions. Other than that we haven’t talked. So I don’t know what happened after we got here.” Bowing her head into her lap, Phoebe tried to wipe away the tears as much as possible. She had no shame or embarrassment filling her. But she just didn’t want Maverick to see her this way. “I have a broken leg and a torn ligament in my knee. They managed to fix what they could when I first got in, though. I have some bruising on my back too but it’s nothing too serious. My biggest concern is obviously my leg. I haven’t even asked if it’s going to be okay to skate on.” She should’ve been more worried about just being safe and okay and grateful it wasn’t worse. But honestly, Phoebe could help but wonder what this now meant for her career.

Maverick had found the word he’d been looking for. Helpless. Phoebe was obviously distraught, and he found that most of his words had little to no reassurance about anything. “I know you can beat me up, but I wouldn’t make any threats right now. I’ll have to be your muscle and we both know how that’ll end,” he joked quietly, still holding her hand in his. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly at the idea that the guy got away, but he’d seen a detective out in the hallway earlier, so that had to be a good sign. “Hey, anything is possible, Pheebs. Physical therapy is a real thing now. They tell people they can’t walk anymore, and look at how far they go? It’s not impossible. Even if they tell you it’ll take six months, then you fuckin’ live those six months and work at it. That’s who you are – we both know you can do anything if you set your heart to it.”

His comment caused Phoebe to roll her eyes playfully in response. She still couldn’t believe the whole Killian situation and how it unfolded, but she was pretty thankful that he was long gone and Maverick was given the chance to move on. But now Phoebe wanted to know about who he was moving on with. “Why do you have to throw any of it at him?” The blonde questioned as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Unless he wants to have the whole awkward exes talk, you shouldn’t have to bring it up until much later on.” At least, that was how she saw it. “You’re not making anything more difficult. You just got out of a toxic relationship, you have a right to be a little cautious right now. But that also shouldn’t stop you from going after what you want. If you like this guy and you want him to show up tonight, then tell him. What’s that one saying? You miss every shot you don’t take or some shit?” A small smirk then crossed her features as she eyed him. “Who says you’re going to be making an idiot of yourself? What if you end up charming the pants off the guy? Literally? That’s an option you know. Do you really wanna risk that not happening for playing it safe with me? Because I won’t let you do that, just an F.Y.I.”

Maverick laughed, still swaying lightly with Phoebe. He didn’t really know what else to say about it all. She was always better at getting angry and attacking others before he could, and when he caught up, most of the dragging was already done for him. “I know, but I feel like it’s better to let someone know what they’re getting into,” Maverick huffed, smiling as he turned to kiss her arm, “I always charm people. Once I get them into the bedroom at least. Didn’t I tell you that Madonna’s song is my theme song?” he teased, “When I’m down on my knees, I take every guy to his orgasm. They’re singing my prayer.”

Seth opened his mouth to answer, but he smiled as Mav reached out for Mason. “See, even you can’t resist.” He laughed lowly and watched as the little boy latched onto the finger being offered, staring at it as if it held the secrets to life itself. His eyes rolled and he blew out a breath, leaning back against the couch again. “Stubborn is not the same as dramatic.”

“Right, well, you’re both,” Maverick pointed out, finally pulling his finger away from Mason. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking back at the blank tv screen in front of them, “Just don’t do anything stupid. I can’t protect you from Phoebe.”

Liana raised her voice in light protest, not yelling at him or anything like that but more out of insistence he could honestly crash here if he wanted to. It wasn’t like Liana was here anymore then he would be. This was just a place to call home, to live and exist in when work was not calling her name or she was not out and about finding more things to do or getting back into her swing of things. That and Maverick was someone she cared about very much so and she’d want to help in anyway she could to make is dreams come true or his life at least a little bit better then it was at the moment. When he however said her name and started to speak all protest was silenced and she listened to him.

Liana didn’t want to. Like a child being scolded she wanted to cover her ears and block out the sound and every perfectly logical truth he spoke but she didn’t. She was a mother now and Liana needed to hear this and needed to hear it from him. When he stopped she took a deep breath swallowing her pride doing something she usually never did. She admitted she was wrong. “Mio caro - ” Li spoke softly looking at the floor speaking some of what little Italian she knew before looking up to find her friend’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have said the things I said to Phoebe and I - I’ve never not wanted him at any point of his life. Even when I found out I was pregnant and I was worried what Seth would think especially seeing as we hadn’t been together too long there wasn’t ever a point in time I didn’t love him. Both of them.” Liana said words tapering off at the end before she cleared her throat giving him a small smiled and a chuckle. “I know several tall eligible bachelors that would find you irresistible - absolutely irresistible. Yes he’s tall. I know your type you know that. I can tell you all about them over soup. Please have some Mav.”

Maverick uncrossed his arms from where they had been over his chest, listening to Liana once he had gotten off his soap box about Phoebe and everything else. “No one thought you didn’t love anyone, Liana. That wasn’t...even if you love someone, you do stupid shit. What you did was dumb; there wasn’t much of an excuse for it all.” He picked up two bowls, filling them before he handed one over to Liana, “Are you going to try and hit it off with Seth again?” he asked curiously, far too nosey to stay quiet. He’d always press for the straight answer, anyway. “He’s still a loser. Did I ever tell you about the time he dropped his pants to show me his dick? Yeah, he was sober, too.”

He grimaced a little at the idea of a date, instead tasting some of the soup, “This is good, really,” he placed his chin on his hand. “I’m not here for the whole dating thing, though. I’d rather fuck and move on. But I’m on a break for that, too. So I guess I’ll have to live through all my friend’s and their love lives.”

“Oh my fucking GOD it’s not about sexuality! Stop putting fucking words in my mouth to suit your own agenda. I never fucking said you telling the world that I’m a closeted bisexual would stop me from getting gigs and shit. I never fucking said that. I only meant that this event was full of fucking upper class people with a lot of money. Some of them pay me, but they won’t want to now. Hiring someone who causes such a public disturbance wherever they go generally isn’t favoured among the bratty elite.” He frowned, not sure if he was even making sense anymore. The alcohol swirling in his system only fuelled his rant more. No one could ever describe Dylan as anywhere near perfect, but he had been trying harder lately to fake being a better person when it came to his profession for the sake of his mother. Every day that passed without her treatment was a day that he had failed, and he was running out of time.

 That thought only made him angrier, and instead of leaving Maverick alone, he went back for more. “But maybe that’s just what you like to hear because everyone’s out to get you, aren’t they? Fuck that, Maverick. I’m not letting you guilt me when you’re the one who did a shitty thing here. And hey, maybe I would have done the same to you, who knows? Maybe I would have thought it would be funny to make you look like a jackass in front of the entire city of Montreal. But I didn’t. So maybe that says more about you than me, asshole.” He took a moment to collect himself, glancing away from Maverick to repress any further comments he might regret when he sobered up, however feeling the shock of cold liquid on his face, Dylan snapped his eyes back to the brunette, his fists immediately curling at his sides. He could have punched him square in the jaw then, in retaliation, but he held back, instead bringing a finger up to Maverick’s face and speaking no louder than a harsh whisper. “We are fucking done.”

“That’s not –” Maverick had to clamp his mouth shut as Dylan went on, successfully creating a scene that was unfolding between them. He hated this feeling, but lashing out had been his only defense, and now he felt his resolved crumbling. “Oh fuck you. I’m not doing this for an agenda. I’m telling you how it feels. All the shit you’ve ever fucking said to me. You’re trying to turn it around on me like I’m being unreasonable and pulling the gay card. Fuck off, jackass. Think back on all the shit you’ve ever said – maybe you’ll realize you deserved something like this. You cause a public disturbance all by yourself,” Maverick motioned to the people that were looking at them, which promptly made them all go back to their own business. “Don’t blame the fucking joke for ruining your ‘career’. You’ve done that yourself.” He stood his ground, despite the fact that his mind was telling him to high tail it out of there. If things got physical, he would. He wasn’t a fighter, and God forbid anyone touch him and give him a panic attack.

Lorenzo ran his hands through his hair, untangling his curls. ‘’ Lo non sono drammatiche. E ‘solo una tazza per amor di Dio.’’ the man sighed, quite dramatically. It was clear that he was just teasing the raven haired italian. ‘’ This event it too uneventful.’’ Enzo told the other as he glanced around, people chattering away, but nothing caught his eye, what a shame. ‘’ I don’t have any potential dates, Maverick.’’ he rolled his eyes, making sure not to smile. ‘’ And if they’re frightened, why should I stop?’’

“You’re uneventful. I’m trying to make you more...approachable.” Maverick moved to fix the collar on Lorenzo’s suit jacket, “Why did you even come if this was going to be so horrible for you, Enzo?” he shot back, smirking before he patted his friend’s chest, picking up his glass of champagne. “Because, your smile is killer,” he snickered a little at his joke, humming as he rocked back and forth, “Guy or girl?”

“Because it’s a one night stand and you probably won’t see them again? Unless you’re trying to see them again, then you’re right, there’s no point in that.” Phoebe didn’t really bother with logic like that. She wasn’t ever looking for someone she could lay around and laugh with, though. Maverick was much more of romantic. “Why does that worry you? Not planning relationships is usually viewed as a good thing. Is this because of how your previous relationship ended?” She questioned, raising both brows. Phoebe knew how he felt after everything with Killian, so she suspected it had to play into all this somehow. “Well, have you spoken to him today? Why don’t you just ask him, like a normal person would? Then you two can hang out rather than you being stuck with me all night. Seems like a much better option on your end.” Phoebe then giggled in response. Not that she didn’t mind being with Maverick because of course, she did. But hey, he deserved to go out and have some fun with someone who made him happy. “No, no, no. You’re a terrible dancer and I don’t want scuff marks on my shoes.” Though, her teasing words didn’t stop her from following him out to the dance floor. 

“Yeah, I hardly saw my one-night stands multiple times. And the one time I did – look how that turned out?” he said with a small smile, intertwining his fingers with Phoebe’s as they went onto the dancefloor. Maverick could sway, but dancing was something else. He wasn’t half bad, but he didn’t want to test what he knew. Mav furrowed his eyebrows, opening his mouth before closing it again. He hadn’t thought much of Killian as of late, though the idea just made him shrug his shoulders, “I don’t know,” he admitted, not entirely sure what to think about it all. At least Luca felt more like a safe bet; Maverick had little time to think about cutting ties and running. “He doesn’t even know about Killian. Hell, he hardly knows about Donovan – I can’t just throw it all on him at once,” he pointed out, resting his hand on Phoebe’s back, “I’m not a normal person. I like making things more difficult than it needs to be.” Maverick looked around the room for a moment before he turned his attention back onto Phoebe, “I’d rather be stuck with you then making an idiot of myself.”

If she could walk over to the nurse and slap her for being so against the idea of letting him through, she would. It was always something each time they were like this. When something bad happened, there was another thing pushing them apart but right now Phoebe needed Maverick more than ever. She was still a trembling mess and though the painkillers were doing their job to keep her from crying out in pain, there wasn’t anything to stop the emotional rollercoaster happening inside her brain. All she could put on repeat was the sight of Liana lunging forward as their attacker went after them. It terrified her and Phoebe didn’t scare easy. But this? This was so much different. All she wanted was now, however, was to have her best friend with her to help keep staying afloat even the slightest bit easier. Once he was finally granted access, phoebe looked up and let out a loud sigh relief. She tried to smile but it was instantly shifted into the opposite. She was both happy he was there but completely distraught as to why. “Don’t even, you know I still look better.” The blonde tried to joke out but as she offered one chuckle, a waterfall of emotions crept over her and she began to cry. “No no, don’t. Don’t you do that. I’m glad you weren’t. Because then if you got hurt, I would’ve had to go find the fucker and kill him and I can’t really do that right now.”

“Mia amore, please don’t cry,” Maverick frowned a little, reaching forward to use his sleeve to gently wipe away some of her tears, “I’ll say you look better if you stop crying, okay?” he smiled a little, though it didn’t really reach his eyes. It was hard to stay positive and joking in this kind of light, but it was the only thing he had to make Phoebe feel better. “Hey, I may have been taken out first because of my gender, but you still would’ve probably been able to beat his ass before I had the chance to run away,” he joked, pushing some of her blonde hair out of her face. “I’m guessing they didn’t catch the guy,” he chewed on his bottom lip, unsure how he could do anything about that. Maverick probably couldn’t, but it was still a thought, “What have the doctors told you?” he asked finally, clearing his throat as he scooted a bit closer, still holding onto her hand.

“My problem? Are you fucking serious? You make a dick of me in front of everyone and you expect me to just laugh it off? Do you think people are gonna wanna hire me to play gigs, or…buy my shit?” He lowered his voice to a whisper before uttering the last part of his sentence through gritted teeth. He had been pissed before, but seeing Maverick get riled up had only sparked his own dormant anger that seemed to make itself most prominent when he was drunk. “You might think I’m a fucking joke, but I don’t, and what are you talking about, me being a homophobe? I don’t give a shit what you do or who you do it with, just don’t fucking involve me.”

“Seriously? Is that what you think?” Maverick idly wondered if he should carry around some kind of recording device, just so Dylan could hear what he said half the time. “Are you fucking deaf and stupid? No one is going to buy what? Your fucking drugs? Then consider that a favor,” he snapped back, rolling his eyes, “Even better, if you think that being a closeted bisexual is going to stop you from getting gigs, then fuck off, Dylan. I’m done being your goddamn friend. I’m done being anything to you because obviously you do give a shit. It doesn’t take a fucking genius to see the way you react each time you ask if you give off that ‘gay’ vibe. Lei è uno scherzo,” he took his glass, dumping it on Dylan.

a little’s enough | phoebe & maverick

special delivery for @maverick-braeden

It wasn’t until Phoebe was at the hospital could she really open her eyes and see clearly. She still had no idea what had happened or why it happened. One minute, she and Liana were throwing digs at one another, the next they were on the pavement covered in blood and lying in complete agony. It made no sense and happened all the too fast. But she could honestly say she was grateful to be away from that damn hotel and somewhere where she didn’t have to worry so much. Of course, she was still freaking out about Liana, who was only in the bed over, but with doctors tending to each of them they couldn’t really speak to each other. Still, Phoebe snuck in a few glances to the woman, making sure she was seemingly okay. For now, she was stuck dealing with doctors working around her, and barely saying a word as to what was wrong. She was given a high dosage of painkillers and her leg was elevated through a slung hanging from the ceiling. There was so much going in her mind as she sat there, but the second she heard someone familiar outside the room, Phoebe’s attention moved to them. She could hear the nurse denying them access… telling him “sorry, but unless you are family, I can’t let you in.” God, she hated that stupid system. If only they knew that Phoebe’s family didn’t involve a blood relation in any way — well, aside from Malachi, that was. 

Maverick was the queen of dramatics, but he had to give it to Phoebe for this one. Not only was Maverick on the verge of having a panic attack, he could barely slow down his words enough to get anything comprehensive out. And he wasn’t even the one in the hospital bed. He was stopped at the door which was expected, and it only took a moment to launch into the married Maverick Matthews story and changing his last name for his husband. He threw a bit of Italian in there to just confuse the nurse before he pushed by, letting out the breath he was holding since Phoebe was awake, “Hey. At least I can definitely say I’m the better looking one now,” he gave a half smile, sliding into the chair beside her bed and taking her hand, “Dio mio, Phoebe...I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you.” He felt the guilt settle into his chest, though he knew he wasn’t Phoebe’s keeper. He couldn’t have been with her the entire time, but he still felt upset that this had happened. Maverick wasn’t even sure he could stomach the idea of this, but he focused on Phoebe’s eyes rather than anywhere else, 

“Isn’t that illegal?” he muttered. Though, truthfully, if he could keep himself busy with working every day, he would have. There was just no need for it, particularly at the heart of winter when no one wanted an itchy, healing tattoo under their Sherpa-lined coat.

Track marks. They were a familiar problem. He’d covered his own forearms in layers of black, too, but his scars were minimal compared to Maverick’s. The sight of them always caused him to pause, like the vile addiction was a moving parasite inside of him, rearing its head at the suggestion. He played it off by reaching out, and helping Maverick push his sleeve further up. Sitting in a room with someone for hours formed a bond, but this particular friendship ran deeper thanks to the mirrored elements in their past. They didn’t judge each other. It was honest without getting too fucking real.

After tilting his head and sizing up the real estate on his patron’s arm, he leaned back and clapped his hands together. “You got it, brother. Mind if I freehand it?”

“Not if they pay you overtime for it,” he pointed out, shrugging his shoulders. It wasn’t like Maverick had anything else to do but work. He was busy at times, but others? He didn’t like being alone. He wasn’t that kind of person; hence his needy nature and his ability to show up early to his appointments. He no longer had the worries he’d originally had coming to Amos; the man managed not to look at him like he was the plague. At least, not that Maverick could tell.

He followed Amos’ gaze to his arms, already feeling slightly sick to his stomach just looking at them. It was a reaction ingrained in him by someone else, and Maverick had yet to rid himself of the habit, “Yeah...” he whispered, clearing his throat before he nodded, “Yes,” he corrected himself, pulling his arm that was released back towards his chest.