Rated: G | AO3 link | Words: 847 | Beta: No Beta | Tags: Domestic Fluff, Post Canon
Excerpt:
“You left your coffee on the counter again,” a voice to Dean’s right said. Dean turned and saw a pair of legs clad in pinstripe pajama pants. His gaze traveled up as he saw Cas standing on the porch step, holding two mugs of steaming coffee. Dean smiled and reached up.
“At least you caught it before it got cold again,” he said, taking the mug from Cas so Cas could sit down next to Dean on the porch step.
Cas opened his mouth but Dean shook his head before the words could come out.
“It tastes different when I microwave it.”
The familiar rebuttal, one that Cas’s heard at least once a week, drew a soft laugh from Cas as he settled down next to Dean.
The two sat in silence as they took in the early June morning. The shallow fog hadn’t lifted entirely as the sun broke the horizon only ten minutes before. The dew sparkled in the filtered light and birds in the trees behind the house chirped away, louder than their alarms.
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Aether loves Albedo’s company, but not when he’s ignoring him and has all of his attention focused on sketching… well, him. He’s stubborn and in love enough to find a way to catch Albedo’s attention back.
It starts like this: he and Aether are in the heights of Dragonspine, after a trek on the lookout for a specific, elementally-infused kind of starsilver. A blizzard had trapped them into a small cave, and it was an easy decision to make that it would be better if they wait it out instead of daring to walk back to the alchemist’s camp at the foot of the mountain.
Albedo starts a fire with some wood he’d found and some sort of pyro potion in his bag. Paimon’s line of sight goes back out to the white-gray of the hailstorm.
“Looks like we’ll be out here all night,” she muses. “Paimon hopes we can get out soon because I’m getting hungry.”
Aether pulls out a sandwich from his bag as if by second nature. “Mora meat?”
“Mora meat!” Paimon exclaims, before snatching the food from his hands. With that, she retreats to the other side of the fire, happily munching on her snack.
Aether has memorized all the necessary tricks to get Paimon off his back, and like this… with Albedo so close… well, it would be a shame not to use them.
Said alchemist is sat down on one side of the fire, and Aether crouches down by him, a serious expression on his face. “We won’t have time to finish your experiment by tonight,” he says, rather guiltily. “Sorry.”
While his elemental sight may have made their trip much easier, they still ended up making a turn in two in the wrong direction, taking up extra time. Albedo only shakes his head. “It’s alright. The materials aren’t time-sensitive. They can wait until tomorrow. On the other hand, I will have to apologize, as this trip will delay your return to Mondstadt and take you away from your Guild duties.”
Aether waves his hands in the air dismissively. “It’s alright, Katheryne isn’t too strict about those,” Aether says. “Not much to sketch in here, though, huh?”
“To the uninterested eye, yes. But the patterns of the rock formations are quite fascinating if they’re to be studied, or perhaps even mapping the interior of the cave.” Albedo pauses. “However… there’s something more involved I’d like to put to paper, if I may.”
Aether cocks his head to the side. “What is that?”
“May I sketch you?”
The traveler blinks, as if not quite believing what he’d heard. “…Me?” he asks, pointing to himself. He faintly recognizes the sharp thrumming of his heart from underneath his shirt. When Albedo nods, he shrugs a little awkwardly, despite being all fire and light on the inside. “If you’ll have me, then alright. Not much intrigue in this face.”
Albedo begins to pull out his sketchbook and some pencils from his bag. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. Sometimes it’s more of memory-keeping than it is about research and alchemic purposes. It’s not every day I get caught in a blizzard with you.”
For some reason, that makes Aether’s face flush. Albedo can be so smooth at times—like he doesn’t even try. “Well, then go for it. It’s an honor to be drawn by you, Chief Alchemist.”
“Please, there are no titles here, just you and me.” Albedo turns toward Aether, who is fidgeting just the littlest bit from nervousness. “Would you mind—facing a little bit—” Before Aether can react, Albedo is reaching out and tilting Aether’s face towards him, fingers on his chin. Aether is sure Albedo can see the up-and-down bob of his throat as he pulls away. It’s alright; he’d caught the redness in Albedo’s ears too, anyway. “There we go. Perfect.”
With that, Aether coughs out remnants of his surprise and nervousness by clearing his throat, and Albedo returns to his seat, hiding behind his sketchbook and pen and faux concentration.
Paimon shakes her head, looking up from her now-empty wrapper of Mora meat. “Silly boys,” she says, with a sigh.
-
It is pretty obvious to everyone who works with Albedo for even the shortest amount of time that it doesn’t take long for him to get lost in his work; all focus and long attention span and seriousness, he can go at his alchemic experiments for hours without interruption, not even for a drink or a bite or a toilet break. Once he gets into his zone, there’s no stopping him, unless one yanks him forcefully out of his little mind-field, not that many people have ever tried.
It becomes pretty obvious to Aether, ever since that blizzard night on Dragonspine, that the same can be said about Albedo and his sketching.
Albedo likes to draw. What was once specifically for research grew into more of a hobby. Now, when there is nothing urgent to do, he finds himself heading to places where there might be something nice to sketch—scenery, a living thing, an object. He can lose track of time there. He gets engrossed in his work as he catches the details he adores the most. Then after that, he packs his materials and heads off to the next best place.
The alchemist generally likes to draw things that catch his interest, so when he admits that he finds himself wanting to sketch Aether far more often than he thought he would, Aether feels a surge of embarrassment—and still-secret joy—fill him. He thought to himself: this would be the perfect time to get to know Albedo more, maybe get closer to him. No ulterior motives, of course, just wanting to be familiar with a friend, of course…
But Aether quickly finds out that his imaginations of what a sketching session would be are far from reality.
At the start, Albedo sometimes participates in idle chatter, a little ramble on what he’s planning to draw and how he approaches his sketch, but within a few minutes, he goes quiet, and all disappears. It’s just him, his sketch, the visual of his subject, and nothing else. It would probably take something drastic like a trio of geovishaps to truly take him out of this trance-like state, because it’s pretty solid.
(Heck, Aether’s tried. He’s blurted out an I love you! while Albedo was sketching him and the latter hadn’t even noticed. Aether still doesn’t know what to feel about that.)
At this point in their… friendship, Aether wouldn’t dare admit that when he offers a trip out to Starfell Lake or Dragonspine or Stormterror’s Lair, he just wants to hang out with Albedo, not… be forced to sit still and observe his—well, objectively, very rationally, handsome face, his teal eyes, the platinum blonde hair, so soft in its braid, his boyish face, the…
Well, the important thing is, sometimes he just wants to be a ‘more than a friend’, not… a model.
So he tries.
Slowly moves until he’s out of position to see if that will snap Albedo out of it and force him back to place. It doesn’t work. Moves sharply, like he’d gotten a flash of pain and fell out of place. There’s a blink of concern in Albedo’s face for a moment before it disappears, and it doesn’t work. Aether tries singing. Aether tries talking to himself. Aether tries calling out Albedo’s name, louder and louder each time. Hell, there was one time Aether tried to call the attention of a ruin guard. He loves indulging Albedo, loves to see the other man’s works more than the average person, but sometimes he wants his active, conscious presence, not an artist’s focused absence from the world.
Aether knows the drawings could be the smallest admissions of love, the proof that Albedo wants to treasure these memories he has of Aether, but—
He wants Albedo here. In the now.
And Aether is stubborn and will find a way to make that happen.
-
“What’s the easiest way to catch Albedo’s attention?” Aether asks Paimon once, while they’re off in Liyue, and out of the hearing ears of anyone who could out him ahead of his own confession.
Paimon blinks at him curiously. “You seem to catch his attention pretty easily.”
“No, not like that,” Aether clarifies, “like, interrupting him when he’s drawing or in the middle of an experiment. I don’t know how to talk to him when he gets like that.”
“Have you tried to yell his name?” Aether nods. “Move in front of him? Shout? Surprise him?” Aether nods at everything. “Huh, he’s pretty stubborn when he concentrates.”
“I know. If you have any idea, would you tell me?”
“Of course! Paimon would love to play matchmaker!”
Aether spits out the bite of sunsettia in his mouth. “No!”
-
“Honorary Knight,” Sucrose greets him, as he enters the Knights of Favonius’ alchemy room. Timaeus confirmed that Albedo was at the Dragonspine camp today, so Aether decides it is safe to visit Sucrose and that she would be alone. “How can I be of assistance?”
“It’s a… bit of a personal matter,” Aether mumbles quietly, sitting on top of one of the empty desks. Sucrose nods and listens patiently, twiddling with her thumbs as he describes the issue at hand.
She makes a face of confusion, then concern, before shifting back to an awkward smile. Her cheeks are pink, as well—god, Aether knows, but what a reminder that this is really such an embarrassing situation he has gotten himself in.
Sucrose says, “I’m afraid even I don’t know how to get his attention when he gets into that state. Mister Albedo is pretty intense about his research, and so we try to make sure to get all questions answered before he begins any experiments. He can go on for hours, after all, and we wouldn’t be able to contact him.”
“I see…” Aether sighs, slowly losing hope that there’s anyone who knows how to solve his little Albedo problem. “Well, thank you for your time, Sucrose. I’m sorry if I interrupted anything.”
“Oh, no, please, any time,” she beams. “If anything, I believe Mister Albedo is very taken by you if his sketches are any indication. I’m sure if there’s anyone who will be able to find a way to get his attention in the middle of his focus, it’s going to be you, Honorary Knight.”
Aether flushes, thanking the gods he’s already got his back turned and on his way to the door. “Thank you, Sucrose!” he calls out, before closing the door behind him.
Geez, who else is he supposed to ask?
-
“My, if the Honorary Knight himself is offering to buy me a drink, how am I supposed to say no?” Kaeya cheers, seated by the bar in Angel’s Share. Charles had been kind enough tonight to offer Aether a glass of an alcoholic drink as well—but only one, he squints, still doubting his age. Not like Aether can show an ID proving he’s a thousand years old. Kaeya insists on a toast. “How can I help you today, Aether?”
“It’s about Albedo.”
“Ohhh,” Kaeya smirks. “Come to me for relationship problems? I’m flattered.”
“It’s not—” Aether groans. There’s no getting out of this when it’s Kaeya. “Just help me out, okay?”
Surprisingly, Kaeya listens very attentively as Aether describes the situation, especially in the way Aether’s ears get redder and redder with every sentence. And it’s not from the alcohol, either. Kaeya swirls his glass of Death After Noon carefully, “hmmm”-ing and “mmhmm”-ing every few seconds.
“I see. So you want to get your boyfriend’s attention sometimes.”
Aether glares. “He is not—” he sighs. “Yet, at least. I hope.”
“That’s the spirit,” Kaeya laughs, taking a swig of his drink. “You know, there is something I’ve noticed about Albedo when it comes to you.”
“To me?”
“Yes, to you,” Kaeya nods. “See, when we’re in the same room, even if he’s not particularly part of the conversation we are having, if anyone so much as whispers your name, he turns toward the sound like a moth to the flame.”
Aether flushes. “I-is that so.”
“Mhm, definitely so. You can ask Jean and Lisa,” Kaeya says, awfully confident. It takes a moment for Aether to register that even Jean and Lisa know, and he’s a little mortified. “Now, this is a shot in the dark, but how about you try doing it the other way around?”
Whispering? How will that even work? Kaeya’s practical advice is always rather useful, but when it comes to things like these it’s easier to believe that he’s just fooling whoever is asking him, so Aether doesn’t really put much faith in its results. Still, he wishes for the best. Whatever that is.
So one day, when they are over Starsnatch cliff as he gathers cecilias and Albedo sketches the view, “Albedo,” he whispers carefully when he gets close enough, “I love you.”
Albedo tears his gaze away from his sketch and looks at him with surprise in his star-bright eyes.
Aether wills his soul to leave Teyvat at once.
-
It takes a while for them to negotiate their relationship into blossom. Albedo has long acknowledged it, but now he has to reckon with his emotions, as he tentatively confesses his return of feelings. But that’s far from the end of it, as apologies are exchanged with compromises made between a traveler who has to go out and far away more often than not and an alchemist who only knows his lab and his sketchbook, and very little on love and relationships and affection.
Still, it is there, and now that they’ve both come to light about it, it grows.
(Paimon, upon hearing of this later, sighs in relief.)
“Do you know how many times I’ve confessed to you in the past?” Aether asks, as he and Albedo walk back to Mondstadt, armfuls of cecilias in their hands. “Twenty-five. All of them while you were sketching. You never noticed.”
“I’m sorry,” Albedo says awkwardly, stumbling a little and kicking a pebble out of his path. “It was never my intention to ignore you, but even if so—”
“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Aether laughs, nudging him with his shoulder. “At least now you heard it. I can’t believe it’s Kaeya’s advice that would work after all this time. Feels a little silly now.”
“Sir Kaeya is definitely more socially adept and mindful than I am, so I am not as surprised it’s his word that allowed us to get to…” he trails off. “Well, this.”
Aether smiles and to Albedo, it’s like morning.
“I just—I just have one request though, Albedo,” Aether says, as they round the path overlooking Windrise. “I know how important sketching is to you, as an art form and—well, for memory-keeping.”
“You remembered.”
“I did,” Aether nods. “But now, now that we’re—well, this,” he gestures with what of his hand he can move, “I would like it if you could… well, if we could leave the memory-keeping for later, and… turn to memory-making, you know? Live it now, while I’m here, while you’re here.”
Albedo looks like he’s being torn apart for a brief moment, wondering if there’s anything deeper about what Aether had said, but then he relaxes as his eyes turn back to him.
For the here. For the now.
“Anything for you,” he says, voice gentle like cecilias in the wind.
-
They’re sitting in Starfell Lake in the middle of the night after a venture off the beaches of Stormbearer point. They spent half the entire day with each other, talking and enjoying each other’s company; and now, Albedo is quietly sketching him as he usually does. Aether is looking out at the lake, reflecting on the Statue of the Seven, the first he’d ever seen here in Teyvat, when he spots a little flutter of red coming from the other side of the lake.
“Is that—”
“Ah! Mister Honorary Knight! And Big brother Albedo! It’s me, Klee!”
“Klee? What are you doing out here at this hour?!”
“Fish-blasting! Don’t tell Master Jean! Come with me!”
The little girl in red begins to run towards them, and Aether turns to “wake” the other. “Albedo,” he whispers, and the latter slips out of his trance.
Before he can even ask what is it, Klee’s voice rings clearly through the field again. “Mister Honorary Knight! Big brother Albedo!”
There is, again, that flash of pain in Albedo’s face, eyes trained on the sketch. He’d finished Aether’s eyes but hadn’t fully drawn his braid out yet, just the fluff on his head. Before he can speak, Aether holds his sketching hand in his.
“Albedo. Let’s make memories here.”
The alchemist takes a deep breath and smiles at his boyfriend. “Alright.”
With that, Klee still a few meters away, Aether lifts the sketchbook to cover their faces, hiding them from sight as he presses a sweet kiss on Albedo’s lips, quick and soft.
“What are you doing back there?!” Klee asks, peering from above the sketchbook, just as they’ve parted. There’s a scarlet glow on their faces she can’t quite see in the moonlight—thankfully.
Aether grins as he puts down the sketchbook on the grass, turning to lift Klee in his arms. “Our little secret!”
“Noooo!” Klee frowns, but then laughs as Albedo pats her on the head. “Klee wants in too! Tell Klee!”
Albedo smiles at her and then at Aether. “How about we keep our secret, and we keep your secret from Master Jean?”
Stars form in the little girl’s eyes. “Oh, that’s great! There’s lots of fish to go kaboom!”
Aether and Albedo hold hands all the way to Klee’s favorite fishing spot.
rating: g
warnings: none
word count: 630
author’s note: [D/N] = daughter’s name. ❤️
You’re lucky that your daughter is as big of a wrestling fan as you are. It makes bonding so much easier. For her birthday, you decided to splurge (even though you knew that you shouldn’t) and bought her front row tickets to the PPV coming to your town.
You’re standing next to her now, watching her with a smile. She’s been lit up since the minute you two walked into the arena. She’s the biggest fan of The Shield, Roman being her absolute favorite. He’s facing Bray Wyatt tonight and if Roman doesn’t win, [D/N] is going to be upset. You have your fingers crossed.
Bray’s music hits and [D/N] instantly starts booing. People around you cheer, but she’s certainly not happy. He makes his entrance, pausing to look at the six-year-old booing him as loudly as possible. When Bray looks at her, [D/N] sticks her tongue out at him.
You think you see him almost smile.
When Roman makes his entrance, your daughter is literally bouncing. She’s grabbing the barricade and using it to hop, doing her best to get a glimpse of him. She’s screaming, you know tomorrow her throat will be raw, but it’ll certainly be worth it.
Once Roman gets to the ring, introductions are made, and the bell is rung. The match starts and it looks like it’s going to be a win for Roman. [D/N]’s eyes are glued to the match, cheering whenever Roman lands a hit and booing whenever Bray strikes back.
In her hands is The Shield sign that you spent all of yesterday helping her make. She really wanted one of the boys to notice it. She keeps waving it around, hoping to catch Roman’s eye.
Bray knocks Roman down and gets out of the ring, walking over to your daughter. He jerks the sign out of her hands and rips it. As a mother, you’re slightly annoyed, but you know he’s playing the part. You expect her to be upset about it, but you’ll buy her a shirt and she’ll be over it. What you don’t expect is for your daughter to reach out and slap Bray across the face.
He looks shocked and before you can apologize, Roman is behind him. He looks at your daughter and smiles. “Thanks for helping me out.” He says, winking at her.
You think your daughter is going to die happy right then and there. When Roman eventually wins the match, you know her night can’t possibly get any better. It was worth every penny.
The show comes to an end and people start to file out of the arena. You and [D/N] wait a bit, knowing traffic is going to be hell. When you start walking out, a man in black comes up to you. “Ma’am, would you and your daughter come backstage with me, please? Someone wants to talk to you.”
“…Sure?” You’re worried Bray is actually upset that [D/N] slapped him.
She looks up at you, confused, and all you can do is shrug in response. The two of you follow him backstage. He stops outside of a closed door and knocks on it, a muted voice says, “Come in.”
The door opens and your daughter screams the minute it happens. Standing inside the room are Seth, Dean and Roman. Without a second thought, [D/N] runs up to Roman and hugs him. He laughs and picks her up, giving her a squeeze back.
“We wanted to thank you for how brave you were tonight. You really helped me win the match.” Roman says when he puts her down. He looks over at you and smiles.
There are tears in your eyes, you feel like you’re going to cry. They’ll never know how much this means to you or your daughter.
Link: AO3
Fandom: ASoIaF
Pairing: Jon / Sansa
Author: Queenofthebees
Summary: He had heard much about the bond a mother has with her child. But nobody had ever truly told him about the love a father has. Not even Ned Stark, who had loved his children fiercely, could have prepared Jon for this sudden rush of love and desperate need to be near this tiny, tiny person.
Pure post cannon fluff. Like, you're gonna get a tooth ache.
Summary: John and Rose tell their friends-to-lovers story. And it was all because of an obnoxious shop boy who wouldn’t take no for an answer…
Notes: For @doctorroseprompts: Person A and person B are close friends, both wanting more, but refusing to admit it. They go to a shop/store/etc. together and A is being hit on by a stranger. A becomes fed up and say that they have a significant other. B, nearby, overhears the whole conversation, waltzes over and slips their arm around A, kissing them on the cheek. What happens next is up to you.
Read on Ao3
Present Day
John and Rose stopped by the guesthouse for a drink with the scientists on John’s team. They had to drop off the team’s rental car now that they had acquired their own—a little blue convertible—and, of course, Donna and crew wanted to see Rose’s ring and celebrate with them. They didn’t stay long, but while they were there, they sat out on the veranda enjoying a perfect late afternoon cocktail on a perfect Hawaiian beach. But things hadn’t always come so easily for John and Rose.
“How did you two get together, anyway?” Donna asked from under her wide-brimmed straw sunhat and oversized sunglasses.
“Ooo, yes!” The rest of the team leaned in, eager to hear how one of their kind had landed such a beautiful, free-spirited artist.
“Oh, well, we’d been best mates for years,” John started, puffing out a breath and exchanging glances with Rose.
“We had mutual friends in uni and we were together all of the time,” Rose explained.
“But we just assumed, of course, that anything we had wouldn’t last after graduation if we went our separate ways. I didn’t want to keep Rose from pursuing any opportunities she might have by tying her down with my feelings for her…”
“So he never said anything!” Rose laughed. “And so I didn’t either, thinking he was far more into his work in the lab than he was into me. And he was getting his masters, but I was only finishing my bachelors.”
“Then, after graduation…” John moved the story along, eager to get past the embarrassing part where he threw himself into his work to avoid confronting his feelings for Rose but just missed her even more every second they were apart. “We both got teaching jobs in the same part of London. I started my PhD.”
“And I took over the fine arts program at St. Tardis’s Academy.”
“Soooo?” Donna prompted, waving her drink at them to get to the good part.
John cleared his throat. “Oh, alright. So we’d been best mates but both wanting more, then we’re in this new part of the city without our other friends, yeah?”
“So we’re spending all this time alone together, like almost every day,” Rose interjected. “And then one day, we’re going to meet up at this bookstore…”
Two Years Earlier
Rose browsed the shelves as she waited for John. He was running late, as usual, but she didn’t mind. It gave her time to prepare herself. She had to remember not to slip and kiss him again. She had accidentally pecked a kiss to his cheek when leaving his place last weekend and she had burned in embarrassment all the way home.
Just as she found the section with biographies of famous painters, she spotted a young man out of the corner of her eye. She decided to pretend she didn’t see him, guessing he’d try to sneak up and surprise her.
However, once the young man got closer, she saw it wasn’t the one she was hoping for.
“Finding everything okay?” he asked. Rose glanced down to the nametag and shop’s logo on his shirt.
“Yeah, ‘m fine.”
“My name’s Adam.” He rested his arm on the shelf in what he probably thought was a suave pose. And he clearly wasn’t leaving.
“I can see that,” Rose replied but felt rude. “Sorry, my name’s Rose.”
“Very… floral.” Adam winked at her.
Rose just gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded. She grabbed the book she had been looking for and started to walk away, but he followed, of course.
“You know, if you’re interested in art, there’s a show in the park going on next weekend.”
Rose marveled at his boldness. She’d barely given him her name and here he was inviting her to her own art show.
“Yeah, I heard about that. Supposed to be several local painters. Know any of their work?” She couldn’t resist asking, as ready as she was to be rid of him.
“Nah. Probably shit,” he laughed. “But you never know. Maybe we could go together and find out.”
The bell at the front door of the shop announced a new customer, for which Rose let out a sigh of relief. Adam would have to go help them, and she could wait for John in peace.
“Or it doesn’t have to be that,” Adam continued. “It could be, I don’t know, the observatory on campus? Bet you’ve never been. People don’t think to go, but it’s amazing. And I know all about the constellations, stuff they don’t tell you in the textbooks. What do you say, let me show you the stars?”
Rose couldn’t help but laugh at that one. That’s where John worked and picturing the scrunch of his nose and the furrow of his brow at such a pick-up line was too much.
In her amusement, she hadn’t noticed Adam moving closer. He had misinterpreted her reaction as flattered acceptance, judging from the smug smile on his lips.
“Actually,” Rose spoke louder and backed away toward the front of the shop, “I have a boyfriend.”
“Oh, c’mon.” Adam smirked. “He doesn’t have to know. And I don’t mind. Wouldn’t be the first.” He winked and ran his eyes over her body, not even trying to hide his intentions.
Rose gaped and struggled to find a comeback for a moment. “Well, I mind! And for the record, my boyfriend will be here any minute and then you’ll see how much he minds too.”
“Hallo, love!” John seemed to appear out of nowhere. He greeted her with a kiss to her cheek and slipped a hand around her waist, startling Rose for many reasons, namely that he had certainly never touched her like that before. “Did I hear you talking about me? All good things, I hope?”
Adam went pale. Rose realized he hadn’t actually believed her. He thought she was only making excuses to make him chase her. She marveled anew at his boldness. John pulled her closer, sensing her discomfort and growing anger.
“Everything alright here?” John asked. His stare directly into Adam’s eyes betrayed his friendly tone. Possessiveness radiated off him with no doubt about whose territory the shop boy was stepping into.
“Yeah,” Adam answered hoarsely, unsure of how to escape the situation.
Rose kicked into character, picking up on the game.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said to John in her best breathy girlfriend voice, as if she’d forgotten Adam was there. “I found a book already.”
John took the book from her and lead her by the hand up to the counter. He pulled out his wallet and handed his credit card to the still-shocked Adam, who ran the card in silence.
“Thank you for shopping with us today.” Adam handed him the receipt.
“Thanks,” mumbled Rose, though it was unclear who she was thanking.
“Of course. Only the best for my girl,” John answered, presumably to Rose, but without taking his eyes off of Adam. He settled his hand on her lower back as they left, finishing off their act with a grand finale.
They waited to break character until they were down the street and around the corner from the shop. Then they burst out laughing.
“Did you see his face?” Rose gasped. “I thought he was going to be sick!”
“Oh, I hope that knob learns his lesson, but I’m afraid it will be a lot more painful for him if he doesn’t. I’m not the worst that could come his way if he keeps that up.”
“So, my knight in shining armor…” Rose teased, laying her free hand on his shoulder and resting her chin on it. “Think it’s time for some ice cream?”
“Oi, I just bought you a book!” He protested. She bit her lip in the way she knew was irresistible to him and fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh, alright.”
She lifted her head and giggled in victory as they set off across the city park, the shortest route to the ice cream shop. “’S alright, I can pay. I just wanted to see what kind of date you’d be.”
He slipped his hand into hers, intertwining their fingers. “A cheap one. But I already get you into the observatory any time you like, so that’s a plus.”
Rose narrowed her eyes. “How much of that did you hear, anyway?”
“Well, enough to know my knightly duties.”
“Sorry ‘bout that.” She grimaced. “I didn’t mean to make you—”
“Rose,” he cut off her apology. “It was my honor.”
She realized they had stopped on the park path, but besides that, their surroundings were a blur. The sincerity in his eyes took her breath away.
“John…” She swallowed and looked down at their interlocked hands, unable to endure the intensity of his gaze.
“I think there’s something we’ve both known for a long time that we need to address.” He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand and she found she couldn’t breathe. Her heart was pounding and when she turned her face up to read his expression, it was with eyes wide with fear and hope.
“It’s alright, really. I know you want to stay focused on your work, your dream…” she began, hesitating. She wet her lips to buy time. After so long spent building barriers between their attraction to each other, how could they dismantle them?
Apparently by crashing through them.
He slid his hand around her waist for the second time ever. His other hand lightly caressed her cheek. He leaned down, but just before his lips met hers, he whispered, “Rose. You are my dream.”
What followed was the greatest snog Rose Tyler had experienced in her life thus far.
She lost herself in their embrace, never wanting it to end (or for her to wake up, as she feared she was about to do). It did end eventually, however, when a trio of bicyclists rang their bells for pedestrians to clear the path. They realized they were blocking the way and jumped to the grass just in time. They giggled at their near-collision-experience and that they were so close together, hands around each other in a comfortable intimacy that they had never dared attempt until today. The excitement calmed, but still they remained beneath the boughs of a blossoming tree, full of tiny spring flowers. She relaxed against him in happiness.
“John?”
“Mmhm?” He was already eyeing her lips for another encounter.
“Are you ever going to ask me to be your girlfriend?” She was terrified to ask, so she figured the best way to do it would be to come right out and say it. There was no going back now, either way.
John laughed in delight at her forwardness. “Do you want me to be your boyfriend?”
“I think you know I do.” She blushed and looked up at him through demure lashes.
“Then that makes you my girlfriend by default.” He waggled his eyebrows at his own cleverness. She shoved at his chest and he pulled her in closer.
“It’s official then? We’re in a relationship?”
“I think we’ve been in a sort of relationship for a while now, but if you’d like an official start date, yes.”
She grinned up at him. “We have, haven’t we? Have we been dating all this time and not known it?”
“I’m afraid so,” he sighed dramatically. “It would explain a lot.” He nodded to the ice cream shop and they set off down the path again, hand in hand.
“Like how everyone thinks we’re a couple, and how we are each other’s plus-ones so often…”
“And we always sit together even when we’re in a group of friends. And we’re constantly at each other’s flats.”
“And we hold hands everywhere we go… oh my god, we’ve been together for years!”
They laughed and practically skipped down the path.
“John?” she said later, once again in the park, but this time with a mouth covered in ice cream. “I think I’m going to like being your girlfriend very much.”
“Yeah?” he asked, but before she had a chance to respond, he took care of cleaning the ice cream off her lips for her. They stayed in the park until sunset, watching the sky celebrate their happiness.
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Rated: G | AO3 link | Words: 2044 | No Beta | Tags: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Post-Canon
Summary: Farmer Reynolds from up the road is a grumpy old man who hates "city folk". Dean and Cas learned to avoid him when they can, but while taking a walk one day, Dean sees the man needs some help (despite his stubbornness).
EXCERPT
The man’s face, now and angry purple-red, made him look like he was an inch from keeling over. His dog had gone inside at some point to escape the heat.
Dean sighed and pointed at Miracle with a quiet “stay” before heading up to the old man.
“Do you need help with that?”
Something clanged off the engine and fell to the ground and Reynolds swore.
“Not from the likes of you.”
Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes.
“We aren’t contagious.”
Reynolds laughed and spat again.
“Never said y’were,” Reynolds said, yanking on something else. “But city folk got soft hands and I don’t need y’breakin’ it more.”
Dean frowned as he watched. Was “city folk” a euphemism?
“I’m not from the city.”
Reynolds laughed and looked over to him. Dean wished he didn’t. The man looked grotesque in the sunlight with sweating pouring from his bald head and cap.
“Y’got a pretty face, new clothes and shoes, and livin’ with another man. You’re city folk.”
Dean sighed as another piece of metal fell from the tractor.
“I can a hundred percent guarantee you I am not from the city, and I do actually know a thing or two about fixing engines,” Dean pointed out, wondering why he was trying so hard. Half of him wanted to turn around and leave Reynolds to it, hoping he didn’t have a heart attack.
But the guy was beginning to shake and was probably overheating. Reynolds was probably close to getting heatstroke.
Rated: G | AO3 link | Words: 1253 | No Beta | Tags: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fear, Nostalgia, References to The Empty, Human Castiel (Supernatural)
Summary: On a drive out of Chicago, the boys stop at an old familiar barn on the outskirts of Pontiac, Illinois. Ideally, it'd bring back fond memories. But for Cas, he's still struggling with the last memory he had of the place.
EXCERPT
“You’re supposed to be asleep,” he said to Dean, glancing over to him.
Dean ignored Cas as they passed by some traffic cones left by the side of I-55.
Cas reached over and tapped Dean on the arm and Dean finally turned to face him.
“Take exit 197,” he instructed nodding at a sign they were coming up on.
EXIT 197
PONTIAC
FLANAGAN
1 MILE
Cas hadn’t been paying much attention to the signs, but now he understood why Dean suddenly took interest.
Nodding, Cas moved over to the travel lane as they passed another field, and a sign that indicated the exit was half a mile away. A knot began to form in his stomach.
“Take a right at the end of the ramp,” Dean said as Cas slowed down.
“I know where to go.”
Things looked different on the ground versus how Cas originally came into the area — and at night, with his eyesight now nothing special, things did look exceptionally foreign — but he still knew where to go.
“Do you think it’s still there?” he asked.
Dean sat back in his seat as they headed down Route 116.
Rated: G | AO3 link | Words: 685 | No Beta | Tags: Established Relationship, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Post-Canon, mention of nightmares, Rainbows, Human Cas
Summary: A quiet moment of reflection as a storm blows over the farmhouse
EXCERPT
One of the best things about the house wasn’t the fancy bathtub they installed or the TV they invested in. It wasn’t the barn they spent two years fixing up into a study and a place for Dean to fix cars, and it wasn’t the garden out in the back.
Cas’s favorite piece of the house was a partial wrap-around porch with its small, pitched roof that protected them from the rainstorms or the harsh sun.
His favorite time to go out there was during summer storms that blew through the area in the course of ten minutes, allowing them for breathtaking views as the cell would approach. One of Jack’s favorite things to do, when he was there for a storm, was set up his phone for a timelapse.
Cas and Dean, if they saw the storm wasn’t going to be too bad or spawn off a tornado warning, would often sit outside on the repurposed outdoor couch and watch the storms pass through.
It was in those minutes that Cas felt the most alive.