anything here was probably written sleep deprived and without any editing - side blog for drabbles and random writing mixture of fanfic, oc drabbles and random things idk
It was late in the evening, or perhaps already early in the morning, and Micah was buzzing. He was high, and very comfortable, currently. Currently, he was on the roof of Leslie’s building, curled against their chest, both sprawled on the small couch they kept up there. He was pressed comfortably against Leslie’s chest, their legs around him, and one arm wrapped around his middle. His bones felt a bit like jelly, and his skin was tingling. Letting his head fall back against Leslie’s shoulder, he gazed up at the stars, relishing in the warm night air, and just how comfortable. he was feeling, catching sight of Leslie eyeing him, lit join to their lips.
Micah had been learning quite a lot about Leslie these past few weeks. Leslie was funny, and kind, and - for the most part - gentle. They liked physical contact. They liked it a lot, often giving a pout or grumble when the desired contact was broken. More often than not, Micah had some sort of hand on him when he was around them. Usually just a hand on his back, or arm draped over his shoulder. Tonight they were needy, pulling him close so as much of their bodies were touching and feasibly possible. That was how they had ended up in this position, almost fully on top of them, pressing them into the side of the couch. On occasion, they were a different kind of needy, a hungry, demanding, possessive kind of needy. It didn’t happen often, but Micah certainly wasn’t one to complain when it did. Micah let his eyes close, letting out a contented hum as he heard the crackle of the ember as Leslie took a drag. His eyes opened again when he felt teeth on his throat, hot smoke escaping the break between the skin of his neck and Leslie’s mouth. They didn’t bite hard, just a temporary pressure, holding him still. His heartbeat had just begun to catch up to the shifting moment when the teeth were gone, Leslie instead pressing a soft kiss against the spot before straightening, holding the half finished join in front of Micah’s vision.
There was a pause before Micah took the offered joint, picking his head back up to take his pass. He watched Leslie out of the corner of his eye. They were watching him, eyes half lidded, soft smile on their lips, hair nicely mussed from the breeze around them. Their weren’t as gone as he was, but they were getting there. The distraction became a problem when he didn’t notice how deep his inhale had been, and suddenly he was fighting the urge to cough, holding the joint back out for Leslie to take. He exhaled slowly, feeling the heavy smoke vacating from the recesses of his lungs. It wasn’t the first time Leslie had put their teeth on him outside of a sexual context. It was always similar, a short moment of teeth on his neck - always the neck - before being taken back.
“What’s that all about?” The weed was making him bold. Leslie’s eyes slowly focused back on his, they just blinked at him. “The biting.” He clarified.
“Do you want me to stop?” They almost sounded hurt.
“No,” He curled himself farther back against Leslie, pressing his head into the crook of their neck. “Just curious. ‘S different from… everything else.”
Leslie was quiet for a while, and Micah almost thought that he had overstepped some boundary he hadn’t seen. The weed dampened his usual panic response, letting him maintain a gentle curiosity. He allowed himself a glance up at them, they were staring into he middle distance as they held the smoke in their lungs, letting trails drip from the space between their lips.
“Dunno.” Was their answer eventually. Watching the smoke puff out as they spoke was mesmerizing. “I didn’t used to want to before, but it’s just… natural?”
“It’s new?”
“New since my whole… thing.” They grimaced a bit as a memory seemed to surface.
“Some sort of side effect?” He knew the broad strokes of what had happened with them. Leslie never really went into detail about much, preferring to keep details vague, and as light hearted as you can with matters like that.
“I guess that’s what being possessed by a person eating, rage beast does to a guy.” The nonchalant shrug they gave jostled Micah, and he snorted a short laugh, couldn’t help it really. It was inherently ridiculous. Leslie’s arm tightened around his waist, almost nuzzling their face into his hair. “What, my pain and suffering is funny to you?” Their tone was clearly teasing as Micah stifled another giggle.
“No, asshole.” He thwapped a hand against their leg. “You’re so casual about it.” Leslie’s huff tickled down the back of his neck. “You’re weird.”
“Rude, firstly.” They paused to take another drag, pulling long and slow. Micah watched the light off the ember dance in their eyes. “Secondly,” They e facing him again, hand on his chin, bringing their lips close enough to be almost touching as they exhaled. Obediently, Micah took in the smoke, letting his eyes close as the secondhand smoke filled his lungs. “You’d be the one letting the weirdo fuck you. What would the people think?”
The smoke came out of Micah’s nose as he laughed, turning away from Leslie as it turned into a spluttering cough. Leslie’s grip released, allowing him to sit up, burying his face in the sleeve of his hoodie. Vaguely, he heard an apology from Leslie over his coughing fit. Luckily, it was a short one, quickly clearing the smoke from his chest. He let himself fall back against Leslie, hearing a small huff as the impact pushed air from them.
“Oh no.” Lazily, he threw a hand to his forehead, craning his neck to look back at Leslie, a mock distressed expression on his face. “My beloved social reputation, what ever shall I do? How will I cope?”
“I could think of a few ways.” There was mischief in their voice as they watched him, a challenge in their eye.
“Oh yeah? And what would those be?” He was rising to it.
Leslie shrugged, looking around the messy rooftop as they responded. “Alcohol, drugs, sex, violence.”
“Very healthy, Leslie.”
“We already have one of those covered.” They gestured with the hand holding the dying roach. “The night’s young, I’m sure we could check a few more off of that list.” The grin they looked down at him with could only be described as ‘wolfish’ all teeth and intent.
Anxious anticipation began to creep its way up Micah’s gut and into his chest. It had been more than his required ‘days of rest’ he thought about it earnestly for a moment. It had been a shit week, and who was he to deny such an offer? He was starting to get cold anyway.
“No alcohol.” He twisted out of Leslie’s arms, standing up and turning to face them, holding out a hand. “Or I will throw up on you.”
“Deal.” Simultaneously, Leslie ground the crumbling filter down into their ashtray and took Micah’s hand, pulling themself up with surprising fluidity. They were solidly in his space, pulling Micah towards them, leaning to loom in over him. “I think we could arrange you a two for one.”
Their eyes were sharp, narrowed and dark. The hungry look. was back in their eye, lingering there as they looked down at him. The corner of Micah’s mouth threatened to twitch up into an anticipatory grin. A shudder ran down his spine as his adrenaline began to spike. The thrumming in his chest was only amplified by his high, his thoughts were sluggish, vulnerable. The instinct to run made itself known. He loved this part.
Another NPC drabble. This one is more fun less angst
—-
It was cold, the wind sharp as it bit at Micah’s cheeks, despite this, his hands felt sweaty shoved in his pockets. Austin’s grocery was right around the corner, and Micah could feel his heart in his throat. He shouldn’t be this nervous, and yet he found his breath shuddering as the flickering “Open” sign came into view. The straps of his backpack were digging into his shoulders, a bead of sweat sent a shiver down his spine, it felt like there was a stone stuck in the toe of his shoe, and the bell above the door seemed entirely too loud as he pushed it open. The buffeting wall of warm air was effective in shocking his system back into regular functions again, and he took in the room around him. The teenager behind the counter barely glanced up from whatever she was doing at the noise of the door, letting out a barely detectable sigh as she tugged a headphone out of one ear and let it dangle. He hadn’t seen her here before. That was fine. He was fine. He turned, a bit too abruptly, to head down the aisle closest to him. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, in fact he hadn’t even planned to buy anything here at all, but he needed time to regroup.
Leslie wasn’t here, so he has no reason to be here either. He could just buy the granola bar that had made its way to his hand, and a drink once he stopped staring blankly at the wall of soda, and then leave. And never come back- no.
Leslie wasn’t here, but clearly this kid has to know them. He could just buy his things, a Dr. Pepper and a snickers had made their way into his hands now, leave a message for them, and then leave. And go into hiding immediately- also no.
Leslie wasn’t here, and he was out of time. He was headed up to the register, items in hand, and cleared his throat. The clerk shoved a notebook under the counter as she finally acknowledged him.
“Hey, anything else?” She was small, definitely young with light blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. A sticker name tag on her shirt read “Olive”.
“No.” He answered on autopilot. It was too late to back out now, Micah would never come back if he stopped here. “Well-”
She had already finished scanning and bagging, and her hand paused over a button on the screen. A raised eyebrow was the only form of question asked.
“Is Leslie here?” He hoped the question didn’t sound as shaky as it felt.
Given the suspicious narrowing of her eyes, it did. “Why?” The question was drawn out as she leaned back away from the counter, arms folding over her chest.
“I just-” The words caught in his throat. “We uh- Well I just thought I’d stop by to say hi,” that’s a normal thing to do, right? “but they’re not here, so. Another time.” Something about those blue eyes were too sharp for his stress levels currently, instead he chose to keep his eyes locked on the pin pad, it was stuck on a rotating processing screen.
“Who are you?” The question startled him enough to break his stare.
“Micah?” It came out as a question more than an answer.
The narrowed eyes widened a bit in recognition. Not a good sign. “I can get them if you want.” Finally, the processing screen ended and the pin pad chimed urgently for him to remove his card.
“No, that’s alright.” Play it cool. This was fine, Micah wasn’t panicking at all. “I’ll catch them some other time.” He tried giving her a smile.
“Sure…” He didn’t like the tone of her voice as she pushed the bag towards him and held out the receipt. “See ya, then.”
“Yeah.” He was thankful to have something to hold again. “See you around.” It was a small town so it probably was true either way.
The chime of the bell was jarring again as he rushed to leave the store. He wasn’t looking where he was going, too focused on his feet and what to do next that he didn’t process that there was a person in front of him until they had fully collided. Micah was bounced backwards, and would've surely ended up on his ass were it not for the hands on his shoulders, holding him upright.
“Fuck, I am so so sorry.” The apologies were rolling off his tongue before he had even looked up. The rest of whatever he had planned to say was purged from his head when he found himself face to, well, chest, with Leslie.
“Chill,” They brushed the creases out of the fabric of his sweater and gave him a half smile. “No harm no foul.” The smell of sandalwood and something sweet invaded Micah’s senses, artificial cherry clung to their breath. “You got somewhere to be?”
“No, not really.” Micah tried to take a deep breath as he took a step back, out of their space. “I just stopped by to say hi, I thought you weren’t here today.”
“I’m always here, Micah,” They said it with an eye roll. “but I’m glad I caught you, it looked like you were in a hurry.” With a hand on his shoulder, Leslie turned Micah around before throwing an arm over his shoulder, pulling them both back into the store, out of the biting wind.
“Oh good.” Olive was back to being focused on her notebook as they re-entered the store. “Your friend found you.” Micah didn’t have the brain power to decipher her tone, being pulled so close to Leslie’s side.
Physical touch was something that Micah had never been used to. Always overwhelming and forceful on his nervous system, usually sending it into a spiral. Leslie didn’t seem to have that problem, always ruffling hair or putting an arm on your shoulder or a pat on the back. They were touchy, and Micah hadn’t yet gotten used to it.
“Micah,” Leslie finally released him, but kept a hand on his shoulder, holding him at arms length, using their other hand to gesture at him, and then to Olive, “this is Olive. Olive, Micah. She works here on occasion.”
”Leslie violates child labor laws.” She didn’t look up from the notebook, continuing to detail the eye that Micah could now see.
“I don’t.” Leslie chuckled as they gave Olive’s hair a rough tousle, which she ignored. “She hangs around enough, figured I might as well put her to work.”
”Careful,” Olive finally looked up at Micah, “They’ll get you too. I think they’re starting to form a habit of it.”
”So what’s up?” Leslie seemed content to ignore the warning as they reattached their name tag. “You free for the day?”
”Y-yeah, my last class got out a bit ago.” He was starting to relax into the environment, the bickering reminded him of his siblings. “Figured I’d get some snacks before getting into my readings.”
”We’re kinda out of the way aren’t we?”
”And I wanted to say hi?” Again it came out as more of a question than he wanted it to.
Leslie took a moment to study him, eyes searching and laced with worry. The anxious itchy feeling was coming back, he could practically feel the pressure of their eyes on him, and the quiet in the room wasn’t helping. Carly Rae Jepsen was playing softly over the speakers. Apparently Leslie had found what they were looking for because they finally broke the silence.
”Wanna hang here? We won’t bother you if you need to focus.” Neither of them had noticed Olive studying the exchange.
”Sure,” Micah hadn’t expected the wave of relief that washed over him at the offer. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
”Cool.” It was the only response Leslie gave before working to pull a small folding table and accompanying chair closer to the counter for him.
Before he knew it, Micah was settled at the table, heavy anthropology textbook open before him, with notebooks and highlighters spread around it. Leslie and Olive were on opposite sides of the counter, Leslie in the process of teaching her how to play poker. It took Micah three games to realize that Olive was hustling them. It took Leslie five. Eventually, Micah was roped into the game, his reading left half-done and pushed to one side of the table to make room. Their pot consisted of a handful of snack sized candies and raunchy stickers, and they were all playing to win. Customers filtered in and out, but all of them seemed accustomed to the shenanigans of the store. One joined in for a round after making their purchase, but almost all of them at least inquired as to who was winning. Olive proudly told them about her initial con. It was amusing to watch her puff out her chest, and see Leslie try to defend themself by guilting her. It wasn’t effective.
Soon enough, the sky was darkening and the street lights were turning on. As full dark began to set in, Olive received a very worried call from her foster parent, which Leslie had to take over. Ten minutes, and plenty of complaining, later, a car pulled up to take her home, and it was just the two of them left in the store.
“Thanks for letting me hang around today.” Micah was slowly packing up his supplies, keeping his hands busy.
”You’re welcome anytime.” Leslie was partway across the room, starting the actual work that had been avoided throughout the evening. “I know it can be hard.”
Their honesty never failed to take him by surprise, and a stillness hung in the air. For some reason, he felt like he should apologize. “It was a lot of fun, if I’m honest. Olive is… a character.”
”Better get used to her.” Leslie chuckled. “I can’t seem to get rid of her.”
The zipper of his backpack drew Leslie’s attention away from their sweeping.”I guess I should probably be heading back.” Neither of them moved.
”Where’s your roommate?”
He didn’t understand how they always seemed to know what was happening before he said anything. “Left for home yesterday night. Early weekend.” It felt like an admission of guilt.
There was another pause, they just stood, each watching the other. “I can at least give you a ride home.” They crossed the room in a few slow strides, leaning the broom against the counter as they started to go for their keys. Micah watched as they hesitated, turning halfway to look at him. “Or you could stay, if you want?”
In truth, Leslie offered because they did not want to be alone. All day, a clawing feeling deep in their gut had them restless, something primal, and confusing. They couldn't put a name to the feeling. It was a blessing that Micah had come by, and a pleasure that he was staying.
They had finished closing duties while Micah worked on a reading, the quiet a comfortable blanket around them both. The feeling in Leslie's stomach was growing worse. Something sharp, demanding their attention. Demanding to be sated. They continued to ignore it.
By the time they both made it up the stairs to Leslie's apartment, the feeling was all they could think about, despite their best attempts to focus on being a good host. Micah was comfortable enough in their apartment already, and seemed to leave Leslie space to work out whatever they were dealing with. A cold glass of water didn't help. It was only when they turned around and caught sight of Micah that they recognized the feeling. Micah was pulling off his bulky sweater, the motion catching his shirt, pulling it up enough to expose a stripe of his midriff. Leslie froze, transfixed as Micah righted his shirt, tossing the sweater onto their futon, and slowly stretching, rolling his neck from side to side, slowly loosening the muscles, practically baring his throat to Leslie. They recognized the feeling in their gut as their head was filled with the thought of what Micah's skin would taste like beneath their teeth.
Hunger. The feeling was hunger. A clawing, aching, bottomless hunger, demanding and ravenous. They were in front of Micah before realizing that they had moved, crowding into his space, looming over him.
Micah looked up at them in surprise, but didn't make a move to back away. Leslie watched intently as his eyes widened, and his face began to flush in the way it only did when he was nervous. The anticipation in his eyes was undeniable. He almost looked scared, and it took everything in Leslie's power to not touch him, their fingers practically trembling with the effort of it.
"Tell me to stop." It was a whisper, a warning, almost a plea. Leslie was giving him an out, a chance to escape, but as Micah stared up into Leslie's dark eyes, taking in the expression, the glint of something sharp, something predatory, he realized that he didn't want it. There was hunger in their expression, a deep want that reverberated within Micah.
"No." Was the answer he managed to give.
His stomach dropped as Leslie's expression shifted, fear curling in his gut. An almost feral expression washed over their face, eyes seeming to darken, breath almost coming in pants, and the edge of their mouth twitch, jaw clenching as they almost bared their teeth. It was exhilarating.
There wasn't any hesitation when Leslie practically lunged at him. With the denial, the permission, the last shred of their willpower had fled. Their teeth clacked together with the force of the kiss. Leslie kissed him like they were starving. As though they were a drowning man, and Micah was air itself. Micah could feel their hands shaking, even as they were holding onto him tight enough to bruise, bulling him close against their body. They kissed him like if they didn't, he would simply disappear. He did his best to show his enthusiasm in return, but Leslie wasn't giving him much space to move.
The hand that rested, twitching, on his neck was moving, Leslie needed to anchor themself, needed to hold onto something, needed to be closer, somehow. They felt desperate, and delirious, the hunger no longer a want, but a need. Their hand found purchase in his shaggy hair, nails dragging sharply along his scalp as they pulled. The tug broke them apart long enough for Micah to let out a small gasp. Leslie tasted the surprised whine more than they heard it, eagerly devouring the noise even as they pulled it out of him. Their mind was racing, thinking of how many noises they planned to pull out of this man tonight. Leslie was never a particularly religious individual, and yet their last truly coherent thought was a prayer. Divine, forgive me for what I am about to do to his man. They wanted nothing more than to consume, to take, to devour. The hunger was darkly familiar, but Leslie didn't have the cognition to process those implications.
Micah was feeling no less desperate than Leslie, at the moment. This wasn't exactly how he thought their first kiss would go, but his head was starting to spin. Leslie was demanding, needy, forceful, and it was making his brain short circuit. He didn't understand the desperation, but he also didn't care. Micah wanted - god, how he wanted them - to take. Anything. Everything. He desperately needed to touch them.
Trembling, frantic hands made their way to the hem of Leslie's shirt, one beginning to tug it upwards, the other desperately fumbling at their belt. The noise Leslie made was frightening close to a snarl as they pulled away from him, fist tightening in his hair. Micah was left gasping, chest heaving, hands searching, as Leslie's free hand grabbed both of his wrists, wrenching them away from their shirt and above his head. Before he could process it, his back was pressed against the cold wall, arms pinned by the wrist above his head. Leslie leaned back in, but paused, centimeters from his face. His head was still held back against the wall. He couldn't help the desperate whine that escaped his throat, eyes pleading.
"Stay." They growled the command against his lips, their voice low, a warning in their tone. Micah's entire body tensed as they leaned back, releasing him from their grip. The contact was immediately missed, but he didn't have to wait long. Leslie made short work of removing their shirt, and was back against him in a moment, hungry mouth back on his, searching. Micah heard stitches popping as Leslie all but ripped his own shirt off of him.
---
They were warm, skin almost blistering against him as one of their legs slid between his, bodies pressed as close together as they could. They broke the kiss roughly, with a bite that left his lip red. He should have been embarrassed by the noise he let out in that moment. His head wrenched to the side, exposing his neck further, and Leslie finally tasted him, sucking a hickey into the soft skin beneath his ear. The noise he made sent a shiver down their spine, and they couldn't resist the temptation any longer, chasing the instinct in their gut. They bit down, hard enough to leave a bruise, relishing in the feeling, the taste, the thrum of his pulse under their teeth, against their tongue. And god, the noises he made, Leslie let it wash over them, relishing in the sound as Micah writhed beneath them.
Leslie was going to tear him apart.
Leslie was awoken by the sun, as was their usual routine. They were groggy, head still fuzzy, with a warm feeling in their chest. Whatever frenzied hunger had overtaken them the night before had been sated... eventually. They lifted their head slightly to look down at Micah, curled against their side, arm draped limply over their torso. Leslie's face flushed as their eyes trailed along the dark splotches across his body, and the indented bruising bite marks visible on his neck. He didn't look too worse for wear, and something stirred in their chest, warm and irrationally territorial. Carefully, they managed to extract themselves from Micah and from the tangled sheets. They didn't remember when they finally made it to the bed, somewhere in the middle. They only bothered to put on a pair of pajama pants before padding into the kitchen as quietly as they could.
Their brain was still in a buzzing haze, almost high with the feeling as they started the coffee machine on pure muscle memory alone. They didn't hear Micah coming into the kitchen over the gurgling of the coffee pot, only felt his hands slide around their waist, arms wrapping around their midsection, head thumping lightly against their back.
"Didn't mean to wake you." Leslie murmured, letting their eyes drift closed, relishing in the warmth of the embrace. They could tell that Micah was still wrapped in a blanket.
Micah grunted quietly before replying, clearly not yet awake. "Sorry about your back." He murmured. Leslie could feel his hot breath against the scabs that were already starting to form over the scratches left behind from the night.
"Anytime." It was a mumble, but his peaceful expression was broken when he reached the peak of his stretch, a jolt of pain shooting through his muscles. He closed his eyes and hissed at the rude awakening. "Actually, scratch that. I need at least a few days recovery time."
They huffed quietly. "I'm not." The smile was audible as they got to pouring two mugs of coffee. "Thanks for... last night." With both mugs in hand, they wriggled their way around to face Micah, cups in both hands. He was still squinting, not awake enough to feel embarrassed at the moment, but he released Leslie, taking a step back to yawn, and started to stretch.
He could hear Leslie chuckling as they took his hand and placed the hot mug of coffee into it. Micah cracked an eye open as Leslie's hand took his chin, tilting his head up, ever so gently moving to cradle his face. The kiss was soft, slow and careful this time, mindful of his bruised lip. Micah found himself chasing the touch when Leslie pulled back, tilting their head so their foreheads were pressed against each other. Micah barely managed to open his eyes.
"I can play nice." It was a whisper against his lips. It took everything in Micah to let out yet another pathetic whine at the promise. It took a moment before he could answer. He was not awake enough for this.
"Oh," so this wasn't just stress-relief sex. "O-okay. That sounds nice."
Leslie smiled before pressing another, shorter, kiss against his lips, this time leaning back against the counter and finally taking a sip of their coffee. Micah mimicked the gesture, letting the warmth of the coffee settle his system as he processed. It took a while in the comfortable silence before he realized that he was staring. He didn't stop, since Leslie was holding his gaze. There was something in their eyes that he couldn't place. A warm kind of mirth.
"How-" He took in a breath before asking the question, his filter was definitely malfunctioning. "How long have you wanted to do that?" Rubbing an itch on the side of his neck sent a dull pain throbbing under his skin, still sensitive.
Leslie's eyelids fluttered, recollecting, and their gaze practically dragged down Micah's form. He had only managed to find Leslie's discarded boxers before coming to the kitchen. He was truly a sight to behold, clearly wrecked from the night before, but eventually their eyes made it back up to his. "You don't want to know."
Pressing a soft kiss to Micah's forehead, Leslie began to lead them both back to the bedroom. They were affectionate in the mornings, Micah made note of this. Gently, they guided Micah back to sitting on their bed, cup of coffee still in hand.
"I have to get ready to open." They took a step back from the bed, but didn't take their eyes off of him. They were definitely pleased with their work. "You are going to rest."
Micah wasn't in a place to deny them, so he settled back against the headrest instead, content to watch Leslie get ready for the day. He would worry about all the rest of it later. It was going to be a turtleneck kind of week.
Another NPC drabble. This one is more fun less angst
—-
It was cold, the wind sharp as it bit at Micah’s cheeks, despite this, his hands felt sweaty shoved in his pockets. Austin’s grocery was right around the corner, and Micah could feel his heart in his throat. He shouldn’t be this nervous, and yet he found his breath shuddering as the flickering “Open” sign came into view. The straps of his backpack were digging into his shoulders, a bead of sweat sent a shiver down his spine, it felt like there was a stone stuck in the toe of his shoe, and the bell above the door seemed entirely too loud as he pushed it open. The buffeting wall of warm air was effective in shocking his system back into regular functions again, and he took in the room around him. The teenager behind the counter barely glanced up from whatever she was doing at the noise of the door, letting out a barely detectable sigh as she tugged a headphone out of one ear and let it dangle. He hadn’t seen her here before. That was fine. He was fine. He turned, a bit too abruptly, to head down the aisle closest to him. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, in fact he hadn’t even planned to buy anything here at all, but he needed time to regroup.
Leslie wasn’t here, so he has no reason to be here either. He could just buy the granola bar that had made its way to his hand, and a drink once he stopped staring blankly at the wall of soda, and then leave. And never come back- no.
Leslie wasn’t here, and he was out of time. He was headed up to the register, items in hand, and cleared his throat. The clerk shoved a notebook under the counter as she finally acknowledged him.
Leslie wasn’t here, but clearly this kid has to know them. He could just buy his things, a Dr. Pepper and a snickers had made their way into his hands now, leave a message for them, and then leave. And go into hiding immediately- also no.
“Hey, anything else?” She was small, definitely young with light blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. A sticker name tag on her shirt read “Olive”.
“No.” He answered on autopilot. It was too late to back out now, Micah would never come back if he stopped here. “Well-”
She had already finished scanning and bagging, and her hand paused over a button on the screen. A raised eyebrow was the only form of question asked.
“Is Leslie here?” He hoped the question didn’t sound as shaky as it felt.
Given the suspicious narrowing of her eyes, it did. “Why?” The question was drawn out as she leaned back away from the counter, arms folding over her chest.
“I just-” The words caught in his throat. “We uh- Well I just thought I’d stop by to say hi,” that’s a normal thing to do, right? “but they’re not here, so. Another time.” Something about those blue eyes were too sharp for his stress levels currently, instead he chose to keep his eyes locked on the pin pad, it was stuck on a rotating processing screen.
“Who are you?” The question startled him enough to break his stare.
“Micah?” It came out as a question more than an answer.
The narrowed eyes widened a bit in recognition. Not a good sign. “I can get them if you want.” Finally, the processing screen ended and the pin pad chimed urgently for him to remove his card.
“No, that’s alright.” Play it cool. This was fine, Micah wasn’t panicking at all. “I’ll catch them some other time.” He tried giving her a smile.
“Sure…” He didn’t like the tone of her voice as she pushed the bag towards him and held out the receipt. “See ya, then.”
“Yeah.” He was thankful to have something to hold again. “See you around.” It was a small town so it probably was true either way.
The chime of the bell was jarring again as he rushed to leave the store. He wasn’t looking where he was going, too focused on his feet and what to do next that he didn’t process that there was a person in front of him until they had fully collided. Micah was bounced backwards, and would've surely ended up on his ass were it not for the hands on his shoulders, holding him upright.
“Fuck, I am so so sorry.” The apologies were rolling off his tongue before he had even looked up. The rest of whatever he had planned to say was purged from his head when he found himself face to, well, chest, with Leslie.
“Chill,” They brushed the creases out of the fabric of his sweater and gave him a half smile. “No harm no foul.” The smell of sandalwood and something sweet invaded Micah’s senses, artificial cherry clung to their breath. “You got somewhere to be?”
“No, not really.” Micah tried to take a deep breath as he took a step back, out of their space. “I just stopped by to say hi, I thought you weren’t here today.”
“I’m always here, Micah,” They said it with an eye roll. “but I’m glad I caught you, it looked like you were in a hurry.” With a hand on his shoulder, Leslie turned Micah around before throwing an arm over his shoulder, pulling them both back into the store, out of the biting wind.
“Oh good.” Olive was back to being focused on her notebook as they re-entered the store. “Your friend found you.” Micah didn’t have the brain power to decipher her tone, being pulled so close to Leslie’s side.
Physical touch was something that Micah had never been used to. Always overwhelming and forceful on his nervous system, usually sending it into a spiral. Leslie didn’t seem to have that problem, always ruffling hair or putting an arm on your shoulder or a pat on the back. They were touchy, and Micah hadn’t yet gotten used to it.
“Micah,” Leslie finally released him, but kept a hand on his shoulder, holding him at arms length, using their other hand to gesture at him, and then to Olive, “this is Olive. Olive, Micah. She works here on occasion.”
”Leslie violates child labor laws.” She didn’t look up from the notebook, continuing to detail the eye that Micah could now see.
“I don’t.” Leslie chuckled as they gave Olive’s hair a rough tousle, which she ignored. “She hangs around enough, figured I might as well put her to work.”
”Careful,” Olive finally looked up at Micah, “They’ll get you too. I think they’re starting to form a habit of it.”
”So what’s up?” Leslie seemed content to ignore the warning as they reattached their name tag. “You free for the day?”
”Y-yeah, my last class got out a bit ago.” He was starting to relax into the environment, the bickering reminded him of his siblings. “Figured I’d get some snacks before getting into my readings.”
”We’re kinda out of the way aren’t we?”
”And I wanted to say hi?” Again it came out as more of a question than he wanted it to.
Leslie took a moment to study him, eyes searching and laced with worry. The anxious itchy feeling was coming back, he could practically feel the pressure of their eyes on him, and the quiet in the room wasn’t helping. Carly Rae Jepsen was playing softly over the speakers. Apparently Leslie had found what they were looking for because they finally broke the silence.
”Wanna hang here? We won’t bother you if you need to focus.” Neither of them had noticed Olive studying the exchange.
”Sure,” Micah hadn’t expected the wave of relief that washed over him at the offer. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
”Cool.” It was the only response Leslie gave before working to pull a small folding table and accompanying chair closer to the counter for him.
Before he knew it, Micah was settled at the table, heavy anthropology textbook open before him, with notebooks and highlighters spread around it. Leslie and Olive were on opposite sides of the counter, Leslie in the process of teaching her how to play poker. It took Micah three games to realize that Olive was hustling them. It took Leslie five. Eventually, Micah was roped into the game, his reading left half-done and pushed to one side of the table to make room. Their pot consisted of a handful of snack sized candies and raunchy stickers, and they were all playing to win. Customers filtered in and out, but all of them seemed accustomed to the shenanigans of the store. One joined in for a round after making their purchase, but almost all of them at least inquired as to who was winning. Olive proudly told them about her initial con. It was amusing to watch her puff out her chest, and see Leslie try to defend themself by guilting her. It wasn’t effective.
Soon enough, the sky was darkening and the street lights were turning on. As full dark began to set in, Olive received a very worried call from her foster parent, which Leslie had to take over. Ten minutes, and plenty of complaining, later, a car pulled up to take her home, and it was just the two of them left in the store.
“Thanks for letting me hang around today.” Micah was slowly packing up his supplies, keeping his hands busy.
”You’re welcome anytime.” Leslie was partway across the room, starting the actual work that had been avoided throughout the evening. “I know it can be hard.”
Their honesty never failed to take him by surprise, and a stillness hung in the air. For some reason, he felt like he should apologize. “It was a lot of fun, if I’m honest. Olive is… a character.”
”Better get used to her.” Leslie chuckled. “I can’t seem to get rid of her.”
The zipper of his backpack drew Leslie’s attention away from their sweeping.”I guess I should probably be heading back.” Neither of them moved.
”Where’s your roommate?”
He didn’t understand how they always seemed to know what was happening before he said anything. “Left for home yesterday night. Early weekend.” It felt like an admission of guilt.
There was another pause, they just stood, each watching the other. “I can at least give you a ride home.” They crossed the room in a few slow strides, leaning the broom against the counter as they started to go for their keys. Micah watched as they hesitated, turning halfway to look at him. “Or you could stay, if you want?”
It was late, almost closing time for Leslie. To be specific, it was 11:47pm on a Wednesday, and they were staring at the rack of postcards next to the register again. Stuck staring at the spot that it happened. The rain was drumming rhythmically against the wide front windows created a haze of background noise to their zoning out. It had been a month, but their bones still ached at times. Usually late at night, when they were alone. Nights like tonight. A throb of pain bounced dully around their jaw, an echo of the pain of feeling it crack and shift out of place. A tightening knot began to form in their stomach, and their vision tunnel, focused on the spot on the ground. The faint memory of the rage, the clawing hunger, the pain of their body reshaping itself, and the bloodlust that didn't belong to them. It was hard to take in air, as their chest constricted, short breaths becoming more rapid as the beginnings of a panic attack was taking hold.
Then, the door to the grocery store flew open, sending the bell above ringing loudly, and the door slamming against the wall. Leslie jumped at the sudden noise, feeling rushing it's way back into their extremities. Looking up, feeling their heart thrumming violently, they were surprised to see Micah. The newest member of the weekly support group, a short boy with roughly cut dark hair. He had been quiet the two times he had shown up, and hadn’t shared what he had gone through yet, and tonight, he didn’t look good. Wild eyes, soaked to the bone from the now torrential rain. He was trembling, standing frozen, dripping on the entry mat. He jumped at the sound of the door closing behind him, letting out a small yelp, his hands moving quickly to shield his face.
Leslie was across the room in mere moments. They knew the feeling of what he was going through. Holding their hands out in front of them, Leslie made sure to move slowly, and keep their voice soft.
“Micah?” He didn’t jump at the sound of their voice, but his eyes did start to focus on their face. “Hey- hey, you’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” were the first words that he spoke. It was barely audible, a hoarse whisper. “Sorry, I- I d- I didn’t mean-” His teeth were chattering, stuttering out whispered apologies.
“It’s okay.” They took a tentative step closer, and held out a hand, a silent question. Micah nodded, small but rapid. “Come inside, you’re freezing.” Leslie closed the distance between them, putting a hand on his arm, shifting to around his shoulders as they guided him farther inside the store.
Micah’s head fell against their collarbone as he was led inside, he kept his arms curled close to his chest, half for comfort, half for warmth. He didn’t exactly know where he was, at some point on his way here, he stopped being able to process his surroundings. It was his intention to get here, but this certainly wasn’t the state he was hoping to be in when he got there. All he wanted was someone to talk to. It was another night where he couldn’t sleep, and his restlessness had started to bother his roommate, who was actually trying to sleep. Leslie seemed nice, and was the only one he knew would be awake, and knew where they would be. Suddenly, he found himself in a chair, a sweater being thrown over his shoulders. Across the room now, Leslie was clicking off the neon ‘open’ sign that hung in the shop window, flicking off the front lights. Micah was trying to regain control over his breathing, but it wasn’t going well, his chest was too tight, he was starting to feel dizzy.
This was one of his worse nights. It hadn’t been this bad when he left the dorms. The sound of a radio crackling inside of a bar as he passed had set him off. The high pitched tone that crackled and seemed to scrape the inside of his brain and bounce off the walls of his skull. That was when he had started running. All of a sudden he was back in the broadcast building, the sound of Sarah’s voice echoing through the building, soothing but somehow wrong in a way that twisted his stomach and wormed its way into his brain. Then there was the gunshot, and the screeching sound of the busted speaker before the walls started to crack as those things started to force their way out. He could feel those things behind him as he ran, reaching, racing, twisting their way around his chest and reaching up to constrict his throat. Then, Leslie was in front of him again, forcing themself directly into his line of sight. His eyes struggled to focus. Warmth spread through his ice cold fingers as he realized that they were enveloped in Leslie’s hands, gently squeezing the warmth back into them.
“Hey, stay with me.” Their voice was soft, and their hands gently squeezed his again. This time, he shifted his hands to squeeze back. “Just breathe. The doors are locked. We’re safe.”
It took some time, but slowly, he started to calm down as Leslie continued to whisper a mantra of reassurance, gently coaxing him down from the panic. Eventually, he was back in control of his breathing, but still shivering. Leslie hadn’t asked any questions, and for that, he was grateful. He made the right choice to come here.
After the first ten minutes, Leslie had settled themself onto the ground in front of the small chair they kept tucked behind the counter, legs crossed underneath them. Micah’s eyes finally looked more focused, clearer and less wild. Their careful, practiced reassurances were memorized by now. It wasn’t uncommon for Olive to show up on their doorstep in a similar state, late at night. They’ve had a lot of practice this past month. When Micah’s breathing finally settled into a steady, slower rhythm, Leslie felt it was safe to continue.
“Hey,” they started gently, waiting until Micah met their eyes, and gave a small nod. “You okay to make it up some stairs?” He looked confused, but gave a small nod, and finally, a noise of confirmation.
Leslie finally let go of his hands, and almost immediately, Micah was missing the warmth. As Leslie unfolded their legs, and stood up to shake the sleep out of them, curling his chilled fingers into his palms, Micah followed suit in standing up. He took it slowly, making sure he was steady on his feet before following Leslie through the door into the back, keeping a few feet behind as Leslie unlocked another door, and ushered him through the door and into a small landing that led to a steep set of stairs. The click of the lock re-engaging helped to settle Micah’s frayed nerves. Again, he followed cautiously behind Leslie.
At the top of the stairs, another door led into the second story apartment. It was messy in a lived in way, the open concept kitchen and living room was filled with mismatched, secondhand furniture. Dishes were scattered between the sink and the small kitchen island, and a few fleece tie blankets were crumpled in the corners of the couch, one folded across the back of a well loved armchair. It was nice, it felt warm, and suddenly incredibly personal. He was brought back to the present moment, drawn away from studying the room by Leslie clearing their throat. They had a hand held out to him, and all he could do was look at it a bit dumbly.
“Can I have your jacket?” They were still maintaining the soft tone from before. “The sweater, too?”
He didn’t have the higher brain function to refuse, so he did what was asked, peeling the wet fabric off of his body. Immediately, the shiver came back, racking his body and sending goosebumps blossoming across his skin. A hand was on his arm, a point of warmth grounding him as he let himself be ushered inside. Leslie placed him in the kitchen before disappearing down a hallway, and he was left alone. The panic was gone, and he was left drained and a bit numb. He was swaying a bit on his feet, but he was aware enough now to notice when Leslie reentered the room, a bundle of fabric in their hands.
“You’ve gotta warm up.” They sounded worried again. “Can’t have you catching a cold on my watch.”
All Micah could do was nod, and take the clothes out of their hands. Leslie led him to the bathroom, ushering him inside before closing the door. He knew that Leslie had given him instructions on how the shower works, but he certainly didn’t comprehend it. The bathroom was cluttered, the counter busy with various items and products, and two towels hung from hooks on the wall. Eventually, he figured out the shower, and managed to peel the rest of his soaked clothes off and step into the steaming stream of water.
Leslie let out a sigh, finally relaxing as they heard the shower start up. It was 12:24am when they made their way into the kitchen, and flicked the electric kettle on before shuffling the abandoned dishes from the island to the sink. It had clicked itself off by the time they had gathered the various cups from around the living room. Methodically, they started the practiced task of preparing two cups of tea. They didn’t know how Micah took his tea, so they settled for setting out a bottle of honey and a container of sugar. They were digging around in the fridge for the carton of milk when they heard the shower shut off. The door clicked open by the time they had finished doctoring their own cup. Micah rounded the corner hesitantly, he looked exhausted, head tucked, the bundle of half dried clothing clutched close to his chest. The borrowed clothes were too big, making Micah look small, dwarfed by the well worn sleeping shirt and loose fitting sweat pants.
“Have a seat wherever,” Leslie instructed as they crossed the room to him. “I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer.”
“Th- thank you.” It was still a whisper as he handed over the clothes. He was talking again, that was a good sign.
By the time Leslie got back to the kitchen, Micah had settled himself into a stool at the island, and had his hands wrapped around the mug set out for him. He looked up when Leslie came back, but only met their eyes for a moment before looking back down at the mug. His brief smile came off as more of a grimace, but it was an attempt. Leslie picked up their own cup and took a long drink from it, letting the silence settle over them, and Micah did the same.
“Sorry-” Micah was the one to break the silence. “Sorry for just showing up like that.” His voice was still hoarse. Raw from the hyperventilating.
“How frequent have they been?” Leslie dismissed the apology.
There was a beat where Micah took a deep breath before responding, breathing in the steam from his mug. “Almost every day.” He admitted. “It’s only been a week or so since…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. Not yet.
A hum of acknowledgement. Micah couldn’t bring himself to meet Leslie’s eyes, but could feel himself being watched. “We all get them.” It was a statement, a fact. “They’ll get better. Easier.”
Micah kept his eyes down as he felt the stinging prickle of tears welling in his eyes. The exhaustion was wearing him down. “Haven’t been sleeping much. Doesn’t really help.”
“You’re staying the night.” It was another statement, said like it was a well known fact. Micah tensed immediately. “The couch pulls out,” Leslie continued. “I don’t think either of us want you walking back in the dark.”
And, they weren’t wrong. The thought of heading back out into the dark, and the pelting rain sent a shiver down his spine. He still didn’t have the energy to put up a fight. “Thank you.” He managed, forcing the words around the building tightness in his throat. Blinking away the blur in his vision, he managed to look up at Leslie. They watching him carefully, making sure he was okay. The look on their face was enough for him to know that they had been in his place before, shaky hands clutching a warm mug like it’s a lifeline. He took a slow drink, letting himself feel the warmth spread through his chest. Leslie again hummed in acknowledgement, and just gave him a nod.
They both were quiet for a while, the chamomile warming them from the inside out, thawing the last of the ice from his veins, and easing the tension in the room. Leslie’s cup was emptied first, and they settled themself against the counter behind them.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” They broached the subject gently, the soft, quiet tone back in their voice.
“No.” The answer was quick, too quick, and Micah reflexively flinched at his own answer. “I don’t- Maybe, I don’t know.” It felt like an admission of defeat, and he set the mug down, running his hands over his face.
“You don’t have to.” Leslie was moving, and Micah removed his hands to watch their movements, too anxious to not know where they were around him. They were getting the couch set up, carefully removing the cushions and pulling the frame out from the inside.
“I didn’t mean to come here, not like… that.” Leslie didn’t look over, continuing their task.
“I had assumed that much.” It was a reassuring tone.
“I just couldn’t sleep. Didn’t wanna be alone, and you’re usually awake this late.” He took a deep breath. “Sorry if that isn’t, like, okay. I can not.”
“It’s fine.” They were pulling pillows out of an ottoman now and tossing them onto the half made bed.
“I was fine when I left, I don’t- I don’t know what happened.” It was a lie, but he was too far in now. “There was a noise, and then I just- I just ran. Then, I couldn’t stop, and it felt like they were there again, and I was back, and- and then I was… here, I guess.”
With blankets now tossed on the bed, Leslie finally looked back over to him. They nodded, making their way back over to the counter, putting their cup in the sink. “I’m glad you made it here.” It was soft, an honesty he had caught glimpses of tonight. “Sounds like you’ve had a shit night.”
That got a laugh out of him. It was an understatement, to say the least, but Leslie smiled back at him. They were taking it in stride, an attitude that only comes with experience. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s one word for it.”
“My first one was two days after.” They admitted it quietly, a private confession. “I don’t count the first day since I basically slept through it. Woke up from a night terror, couldn’t get out of it. The flashbacks are the worst for me. When you get stuck.” The last sentence was huffed out, more annoyed than distressed.
“Are they-” He didn’t know how to ask, exactly. “Are they going to happen a lot?”
“Maybe. For me, the first two weeks were the worst. I was hurt, it was real bad, and any pain just… reminded me.” Their eyes drifted, unfocused, and it took a moment for them to come back to the moment. “I suggest staying around people as much as you can. Hanging around people you know helps, from my experience. The coffee shop always has someone around who gets it.”
“Would you mind if-” the question was halfway out before he realized he didn’t want to ask it. “If I hang around you, a bit?” A moment of silence hung in the air for a moment, sending a pang of anxiety down Micah’s spine.
“Nah.” They said it with a shrug. “I don’t mind. As long as you don’t mind the shop, I’m usually here.”
“I don’t.” Wash of relief spread over him, easing the tension in his shoulders. He was tired, but more lucid now, and he could see the exhaustion etched on their face. A glance at the clock told him they had reached 1:30am now, and a twist of guilt settled in his gut.
“Great,” It was tired, but light. Genuine. “Then I’ll… see you in the morning?”
“Yeah.” Micah hurried to stand, walking the cup over to Leslie, letting them set it in the sink. “See you in the morning.”
Before Micah knew it, he was wrapped in Leslie’s arms, pulled against their chest. He wasn’t usually a hugger, but he let himself melt into the embrace, wrapping his arms around them, trying not to hold too tightly onto the back of their shirt. There would be time to be embarrassed about it tomorrow. For now, he clung to the contact, feeling small, but feeling safe for the first time in a few days, at least.
When they finally separated, Leslie held him at arms length for a moment, making him look them in the eye, giving him a soft smile. “If you need anything, just knock, okay? I’m a light sleeper.” They didn’t let him go until he had nodded, agreeing to their terms. “Keep any lights you want on.”
“Thank you, again.” Even if Leslie didn’t think much of it, he needed to say it. Leslie actually rolled their eyes at it this time.
“Anytime.” They meant it. They both knew it. “Goodnight, Micah.”
“Yeah, goodnight.” He watched as Leslie left the kitchen, and didn’t move from next to the sink until he heard a door click closed. “See you tomorrow.”
It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:
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I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.
I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.
Leslie was laid bed, their head - their everything - was pounding with a dull, radiating pain. The memories of the evening were still ricocheting around their mind. Bones breaking and reshaping. Muscles tearing and extending. The sound of teeth hitting the tile floor. The sound of the three men shouting, words lost in their ears, drowned out by the flood of hatred, anger, and a clawing, desperate, all consuming hunger. The feeling was still lingering, latched onto their gut like a phantom pain. Even if Leslie could get up, the thought of eating made them nauseous with the fear of what might happen if they give in to that impulse. Afraid that it would reawaken… whatever it was that was starving and so full of anger.
When the door of Leslie’s little studio apartment creaked open, they almost couldn’t hear the loud squeak over their pounding pulse. The realization brought them shooting up in bead, the sudden jolt of adrenaline drowning out the sharp pain that shot through their body in response.
“Sorry…” The small, nervous voice dampened the sudden panic.
“Hey, Kiddo. It’s okay.:” Their voice came out much weaker than they had intended. It was an exhausted tone of hoarse and gravelly that made them both wince.
Despite the growth spurt that Olive had over the past year, she still looked so very small in their doorway tonight. She was almost drowning in Leslie’s pair of old, borrowed pajamas. Hands with a white knuckle grip on the door, and eyes still puffy from the crying that had been done the past couple of days.
“C-can I come in?” Her voice was still thick with emotion.
“O’course.” Leslie patted the mattress beside them, giving her the most reassuring smile they could muster. “Get over here.”
Olive entered the room quickly, the door squeaking again as she shut it, and took the moment to make sure that it was locked. When she turned, there was only a moment of hesitation before she rushed across the room, practically launching herself onto the bed, arms wrapping tightly around his neck, pulling tight. The force of the motion sent them both falling back on to the bed with a solid thump and wheezed groan of pain. Her shoulders were trembling as they remained around Leslie’s neck in a vice-like grip. The deep, shuddering breath was felt more than heard before she held it in, holding back a sob.
“Careful, kid. You forget you’re getting a bit big for that.” A single wheezed laugh accompanied the chiding, which Leslie immediately regretted when it was more difficult than expected to take in another breath.
“I’m sorry.” She squeaked out, arms tightening their grip as she buried her face into their shirt.
“No, no it’s okay.” Despite the struggle to keep their voice from cracking, they tried to reassure the kid, moving to start rubbing gentle circles on her back.
“‘S my fault.” They could feel tears starting to wet their shirt as her voice started to break. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She was repeating it like a mantra now.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay.” The shaking was getting worse. “It’s over, Olive. We’re okay.”
The murmured comforts and quiet hiccuping sobs were the only sounds in the room for a long while. Eventually, Leslie noticed that at some point, they had started crying as the last of the lingering anger finally seeped out of them, being replaced by more familiar emotions. The shuddering in Olive’s shoulders was starting to calm as she seemed to have almost cried herself out, becoming a comforting - if a bit achy - weight on their chest. It was reminiscent of past nights - when she was much smaller - when she had run off after a particularly bad week and ended up on their doorstep. It had gotten them both in trouble more than once when Olive was with a family who checked in on her regularly, but Leslie could never bring themself to turn her away. After about an hour, Olive’s breathing had evened out, officially having cried herself to sleep, and Leslie was regretting not asking that Palmer guy to get them some ibuprofen before he - presumably - left.
—
At close to 9:30am, they were unceremoniously woken by the incessant ringing of Leslie’s phone. It was on the second phone call that Leslie managed to pick up?
“Hello?” Was all they could manage to croak out before the woman on the other end cut them off, launching into an angry tirade. “Good morning to you too, Ms. Hanson.”
Olive sat hunched next to Leslie on the bed, trying to scrub the sleep out of her eyes. It was going to be a long day.
“Yes… Olive is with me-
No, I’m not planning on bringing her to school today-
No, I wasn’t- I wasn’t on drugs yesterday!”
She had really made up her mind about what had happened the day before. Apparently she had a wonderful ability to rationalize. Delusional, but understandable. Leslie didn’t notice when Olive stood up, too busy attempting to defend them both.
“I- I had a… seizure-
No, they were- They were family friends.
Yes, a priest! What’s wrong with-
No, listen, I don’t-”
Leslie’s attention was drawn away from the interrogation by the familiar gurgle of the coffee maker starting up. Olive had officially moved on to making a morning coffee, currently digging through their cabinets for mugs. She turned around to shoot Leslie a glare after noticing all four of their mugs dirty, in the sink. They only shrugged in response.
“Listen, we- We don’t have time to talk right now. Call me back later, Ms. Hanson.” And hung up before she had the chance to protest, promptly turning the phone on to do-not-disturb, and tossing it on to the bed to get lost in the rumpled blankets.
With a deep breath, Leslie tried to process the rude awakening and register the numerous aching muscles and heavily bruised body. Before they could think to ask for help, or medication, they were suddenly struck in the side of the head by a rattling bottle of ibuprofen that had been hurled towards them across the room. They took a deep breath, determined to not be mad today, and let it out in a slow exhale, glancing at the bottle before finally looking up at Olive. She was frozen next to the sink, face beet red, and eyes wide.
“I thought you were going to catch it?” She squeaked. A weak defense.
“Oh.” They let their grimace turn into a grin. “You’re dead, kiddo.” Snatching up the pill bottle, they lurched up off of the bed as quickly as their body could manage, and began the painful dash across the room. Olive let out a screech in response, and braced herself against the counter, matching Leslie’s smile. She braced herself for the familiar chase around the kitchen that would inevitably end up with Olive in a headlock, and a relentless noogie being inflicted upon her. It would be worth the aching ribs and pounding headache that would result for both of them. Maybe.
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