TW: As always: the tw does contain spoilers! This fic has language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, sex, nudity, general mentions of violence, past abuse, and soooo on. This week on Nightshade (said in Lena's voice) 🧐 (yeah, that's right im keeping this in from now on cause I think its funny sue me! 😂) It's Christmas bitches! And with Christmas comes a whole lot of trauma for one of our idiots! 😅 But, this time I'll keep it light, I swear! We've got lots of grumpy Jake, more Harrow Christmas traditions, Santa movies, decorations, and so much fluff it'll probably cure something inside you.
This chapter was a little rushed, so I apologize if it's not my best! I hope you all enjoy the fluff and sweetness anyway, though!
Jake hated Christmas. He'd decided for sure that he hated it when he was thirteen years old, listening to Simone argue with her parents while he tried not to listen in. It never helped. Even as the years passed and he'd grown to tune out most things, those yearly holiday fights were never something he could ignore.
He hated how angry Simone sounded, how hurt he knew she was. Moreso, he hated how cold she'd get after it all was said and done. Even if she climbed into his bed afterward, it felt different… angry and harsh, nothing like how he actually liked spending time with her. He might've been able to enjoy it a little if her eyes didn't look at him the same way they looked at her father… like he was nothing - less than nothing.
And so, each and every year, the annual trip to Cape Cod loomed over his head and made every single second of that week before Christmas a frozen hell.
Lena had been staying with him for almost a full week, and Jake had enjoyed every moment of it. True to her word, she walked around naked for the vast majority of her stay. The sex was amazing, so were the hot showers with her curled into him, and the not-so-shitty breakfasts they'd make together each morning. It was remarkable, to him at least, just how enjoyable the most mundane of things were when she was around. Folding laundry, feeding the cat, even just the morning usual of standing in front of the mirror and sluggishly brushing his teeth, turned into something he looked forward to just to see her standing in front of him, making the weirdest faces at herself as she brushed her teeth or did her makeup.
As Christmas got closer and closer, however, Jake could feel himself and all the joy he'd accumulated over the week shriveling up. He'd get snippy at random bullshit, or quiet in the midst of a conversation when something she'd said hit just a little too close to those old memories he didn't like to dig up. And, worst of all, Lena noticed.
She didn't draw any attention to it, and she certainly didn't let it ruin their time together. No matter how snippy Jake got with her, Lena let it roll right off her shoulder. She dished it back too, not letting whatever it was eating away at him change how she interacted in the slightest. It was what he'd done for her, and so, he rationalized that it made sense that she'd reciprocate. Still, it felt… weird. Not good or bad, just… different in a way he didn't quite understand.
And that was what had made him snippy on that particular morning. He'd said something half-rude, and she'd laughed and replied with her own half-rude remark. That feeling festered in his chest, twisting and turning in him like a snake trying to wrap around his ribcage and measure just how much effort it'd take to swallow him whole.
She sat on the edge of the couch while he lay on the bed, blowing bubbles she'd pulled from somewhere in her purse in his direction. It was like she didn't have a care in the world and, worse, he could feel himself drawn to join her. In every childish moment she created, every second of weird, impulsive fun that she summoned into his apartment, Jake wanted more than anything to stop being so mad and so bitter and just do it with her.
What is this? He questioned, squinting at her as if she'd suddenly grown two heads. What are you doing to me?
*
Jake had been in a mood since Monday. Not always, but often enough that it'd become obvious the coming holiday held some kind of stress he didn't want to think about. So, I'd done the only thing I could think to do to offset him. Emulate Dad.
My dad had a knack for making even the shrewdest of holiday bitches find some Christmas cheer, his evil ex-wife notwithstanding. Dad would pull out all the stops just to get one good laugh or smile. Hot cocoa, breakfast for every meal, ice cream for dinner, sugar cookies, anything and everything he could think of.
So, I'd started slowly introducing some things of my own. Random dance parties in Jake's tiny apartment. Hemingway in my arms, I'd twist and shout and try to get him to dance with us. Nothing. Movies. Christmas, not Christmas, anything I could think Jake would find funny, I popped into his VCR. Not a single grin. Finger painting was a long shot. And after I'd spilled glitter all over his couch, I kind of understood why he didn't wanna hop in and join Hem and me in our activity. My final resort had been the bubbles buried in my bag, an inside joke between Quinn and me, and a drag queen in Queens.
Stream after stream of shimmering rainbow bubbles flew into his face as he moped in bed. And stream after stream, his expression never changes. Well, I wouldn't say never. His brows drew tighter together after the fourth blow. I blew another stream of bubbles his way. "Come on, jerk, be thirteen with me for like five minutes?"
“You’re awfully chipper,” he groaned instead. “Thought you hated December.”
“I never said I hated December. The beginning of it’s just always a bit of a shit show. Buuuutt…” I blew another bubble, longer this time. “After that, it’s not so bad.”
Jake scoffed. “Agree to disagree.”
“Not a Christmas guy?”
“No.”
I turned my head and looked over at him, still in bed, staring up at the ceiling with that blank expression I recognized in an instant. The far-off look, the way his brows knitted together ever so slightly… Christmas must be Jake’s shit show. After a moment of quiet, where I’d quickly put the cap on my bubbles to keep Hemingway from spilling it, I flopped down onto his chest and curled up on top of him.
Jake’s arms eventually wrapped around me. “So, you’re like the Grinch?”
“What?”
“You know, you hate the Whos and Christmas, and your hearts three sizes too small?”
He finally chuckled. “Yeah, I’m notorious for my chronically small heart.”
Pushing myself up to stare down at him, I smiled. “Well, how’s about we fix it then?”
Jake’s hands squeezed my hips as his eyes shamelessly drifted down my chest. “You wanna play Operation?”
I rolled my eyes. “I wanna help you not have such a sucky attitude.”
“Oh, I can think of a few ways you can help me with that.”
“No,” I teased, slapping his hands away as they began drifting up. “Not like that.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
“‘Cause I said so.” I stood up and began pulling on my clothes, much to Jake’s dismay. “Get dressed, eat, do whatever shit you gotta now.”
With a sigh, Jake glared at me from the bed. “What are we doing?”
“We are going to make your heart grow three sizes!” I replied, pressing a kiss to his pouty lips. “Now, hurry up.”
*
It was cold and snowing as they stepped out of his apartment and into the insanity that was the week before Christmas in New York. Even though he thought it was stupid, Jake took one look at Lena as she lifted her head to the sky and stuck her tongue out to try to catch a snowflake, at her blinding smile and infectious laugh, and instantly thought it was all worth it.
I would have liked being thirteen a lot more if I'd have known you then, he thought, but didn't dare utter aloud. Lena glanced back at him, and in that way of hers, he could tell she just knew. Her smile softened, and her hand reached out and took hold of his, an answer of her own shining in those green eyes he loved so much.
Me too.
She pulled him off into the crowd, and even though Jake hated this stupid holiday, he felt excited all the same. How could he not? It was her, leading him off on some adventure, holding his hand in hers and talking to him like he deserved to know all the little details about her life - about what this holiday meant to her. And Jake listened to every single word, absorbing it and filing it away with the rest of his "important Lena information".
They were in the first hideous store, and he pushed the cart all the while she piled thing after thing inside it. After the tenth Christmas decoration, he sighed. "Is this really necessary?"
Lena glanced over her shoulder at him, placing two more things in the cart. "Duh."
"You know, if Simone were here, she'd insist that all this is way too gaudy."
"Do you think it's too gaudy?" She asked, turning to look at him.
It wasn't a judgmental look, more a curious one. Jake shrugged. "I dunno. I'm not exactly the expert on all this Christmas finery."
She shook her head and laughed at him, picking up a snowglobe of the city to admire it. "My dad was. Every year, he'd outdo himself like it was a god damn competition. Lights, trees, reindeer, he'd even dress up like Santa and walk around the bar taking everyone's Christmas orders."
For the first time all day, Jake felt like she'd actually surprised him. "You really do love this shit, don't you?"
Lena smiled, trying to shrug off his honest observation. "I dunno. Christmas… It has its own foul memories, but my dad always found a way to make it… better."
"You like Christmas," he mumbled. "I never woulda guessed that."
"Oh, shut it." She put another three boxes in the cart. "Like you're so mysterious with your bad boy hates Christmas bullshit."
"Hey," he pretended to take offense. "I am mysterious."
"Like a cheap magician at a children's party."
He made a face and pointed at something ahead of them, shifting her focus just enough for him to quietly add the snowglobe to the cart. He'd pretend to know nothing if she asked in the checkout line. Maybe he'd even claim a magician did it, just to see her laugh some more.
Seven stores and five hundred bags later, Jake followed Lena back to the apartment and dropped everything the second the door opened. "Careful!" She hissed, pinching his arm. "You'll break Santa's workshop!"
"How will he extort the elves without his sweatshop!" He deadpanned.
"You're hilarious, grumpy grinch." Lena dug through the pet store bag and held the Christmas sweaters up to Hemingway. "Ready to try again, little guy?"
He hissed and glared at Jake
"Sorry, Hem, I shoulda left the door open for you to escape through."
Lena rolled her eyes and dug out the catnip. "I'll make it worth your while."
Jake chuckled and watched her slowly approach the tiny cat as if it were a mountain lion. "Wasn't last time enough of a lesson?"
"Shh," she whispered. "I'm cat whispering."
Five scratches and one shredded cat sweater later, Jake sat down on the couch with Hemingway hiding between his feet. "Maybe you should leave the cat whispering to Peter."
"Funny," she replied, emptying out the first bag of little Christmas decorations. "Now, help me make your apartment more festive."
"Why did I agree to this?" He groaned.
She snuggled into his chest, practically shoving the little house into his hands. "Because I'm adorable and super convincing."
With a bat of her lashes, Jake couldn't even bring himself to pretend to be mad. "Maybe."
Lena lifted herself up and kissed him softly. "Lose the attitude, and I might be adorable and super convincing naked."
"Where do you want this?" He asked, holding up the house.
She smiled. "You're a photographer, use your special eyes to find a good spot."
*
I stared at the apartment. It looked good, or more festive at least. The little snowflakes hung from the ceiling, sparkling in the light. The wreath was hung on the door, and the small Christmas knick-knacks were scattered perfectly throughout the apartment. I hummed. “It’s missing something.”
Jake rolled his eyes and flopped down on the couch. “We bought half the department store? What more do you need?”
“A tree!” I proclaimed, already grabbing my coat and scarf.
“No.”
“Yeah,” I turned and pulled on his arm. “Come on, Grinch! Your heart can’t grow that last size without a Christmas tree!”
He shook his head, stubbornly staring at me. “What if I don’t want a tree?”
“Who doesn’t want a Christmas tree?”
“Me.”
“Why not?” I asked, settling on top of his lap. “Why agree to all this other stuff but get stingy about the tree?”
Jake’s face fell slightly, and I could tell it was taking everything he had not to break apart at whatever truth now hid behind his sass. “Maybe I just think they’re ugly.”
“Maybe,” I replied. “Or maybe there’s something else about them that bugs you?”
He rolled his eyes again, but didn’t look back at me. His head turned, and he stared out at the window. After a minute, maybe longer, Jake finally sighed and said, “My mom and I used to decorate our tree together.”
There it is. I set my head against his shoulder and held him as tightly as I could. “So it’s a bad memory?”
“No,” he answered. “Those ones are good… some of the only good ones I can actually remember. And that’s why…”
“That’s why it hurts.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into his skin.
He took a deep breath. “Me too.”
“What was she like?” I asked softly. “Your mom.”
Even with my head against his shoulder, I could feel Jake’s face contort slightly. His jaw clenched, and his head shifted, eyes staring up at the ceiling. For a minute, all he seemed able to do was sit and swallow whatever words almost took form. His fingers traced shapes into my skin, something simple to keep himself grounded in this moment and not whatever memories came to mind with my question.
After a long silence, he finally spoke, “Simone always said she was like water. Always moving, never settling… restless. But sometimes… I remember things from before. Like how we’d eat waffles every Saturday morning and how she could only eat hers if they were drenched in syrup.” He swallowed. “I remember decorating our tree every single year with the ugliest Christmas ornaments. I remember taking long walks on the beach with her, collecting shells and talking her ear off about the ocean and the animals I was obsessed with.” His lips quirked for a second, chin dipping to his chest as he glanced down at me. “I used to wanna be a marine biologist.” He scoffed at the admission, blinking tears away before finally continuing, “In what little memories I have of her, she isn’t water. She was bright and fun and loud… Like… fire or… I dunno.”
“Maybe she was a star,” I offered up, shifting until I was able to actually look at his face. “Bright and burning and fleeting.”
“Fleeting?” He asked with a tearful gaze.
“Well, yeah. The stars that burn the brightest live shorter lives.” With a tiny smile, I leaned in closer and admitted, “I used to wanna be an astronaut.”
With a choked chuckle, Jake blinked away the tears in his eyes. “Why does that not surprise me?”
I gently wiped the stray tears from his cheeks and shrugged. “‘Cause I’m so outta this world.”
“God,” he groaned, covering up the way he cleared his throat. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”
"No, it wasn't," I insisted.
He stood quickly, plopping my feet down on the floor before he began grabbing his coat and wrapping that hideous scarf around his neck. Jake stood in front of the door for a second before he glanced back at me and asked, "You coming?"
I smiled, trying to hide how desperately excited I was at the prospect of going and picking out some stupid tiny tree with him. "We really don't have to."
Reaching out, he grabbed my hand and rolled his eyes. "Come on, Princess. Let's go get you that dumb tree."
"Jake-"
"Lena," he cut off. "Come on, don't they sell out or something?"
"We don't have to." I squeezed his hand. "Tree or no tree, this has already been a great day of mostly de-grinchifying you."
He squeezed my hand back. "I know, but… I want to."
"Good!" I finally breathed, letting my body practically vibrate out the door. "'Cause I was having a really hard time holding that in!"
"I can see that." He laughed and followed me back into the cold.
For a moment, we stood outside, admiring the setting sun, when all of a sudden, Jake opened his mouth and tried to catch one of the many snowflakes on his tongue. I grinned ear to ear and lifted my head to do the same. Hand in hand, like total idiots, Jake and I stood on the sidewalk and caught snowflakes on our tongues for far longer than normal people would have. But I didn't care about the sideways glances and the eye rolls that we got from the people passing us by. Today, it was just Jake and me. Today, we would pretend to be thirteen again.
*
The smell of fresh pine and sap overwhelmed his senses. Green trees filled his vision, some towering over him while others were no bigger than his leg. It was crowded and loud as people filtered in and out of the small tree market they'd stumbled upon. Salesmen were shouting above the rest, talking in that tone that made him feel like he was at work again, but Lena was still smiling ear to ear.
It was almost annoying just how happy she was, looking up at the tall trees with wide eyes full of that magic and wonder that his were long void of. He nudged her away from the largest of them. "There's no way in hell we're gonna get that in my apartment."
She rolled her eyes. "I know. I was just admiring it."
"You're admiring a dying plant."
"Dying in the name of Christmas," she reminded, as though that meant anything to him. "It's their destiny."
He chuckled, looking up at the trees. "What a sucky destiny."
"It's fun," Lena insisted with a bump to his shoulder. "Try to enjoy it just a little bit, yeah?"
"No promises."
After almost an hour of walking around, Jake was surprised when he stopped in front of one of the smaller trees, filled with a sudden and entirely bizarre feeling. It wasn't the prettiest tree of its size. In fact, it was ugly as all hell, but something about it made sense to him.
"What about this one?" Jake asked, pointing at the smallest tree, the one with large chunks of pine needles missing.
His mom stopped and glanced back at him. She bent down and looked at the tree, fingers gently lifting its floppy branches, and a smile, wide and bright, making her red cheeks puff out. "It's absolutely perfect."
He felt so happy, giddy with joy and excitement as he vowed to carry it the whole way home. And he did, part of it at least, since the second the tree seller picked it up, a branch snapped off. His mom just laughed and said, "It'll be the most unique tree in Cape Cod!"
The most unique tree… he liked the sound of that.
"Find one you like?" Lena asked, leaning against his side as she looked down at the little tree.
Jake didn't answer for a minute, not sure whether he should brush it off, along with the memory that had just taken hold of him, or open up about it. "I…"
Lena bent down and took one of the floppier branches in her hand, smelling the pine needles with a smile. "I think it's perfect."
"You… do?"
She glanced back up at him, with red cheeks and glimmering green eyes. "Of course! It's the perfect size. Plus, it's the most unique one here, and your apartment needs a unique-looking tree for sure."
The second the tiny tree was bought and paid for, Jake carried it the whole way back to the apartment.
*
Setting up the tree had been easier than I thought it'd be. I'd expected to have to coax Jake into participating, but for whatever reason, the second we'd picked it out, his whole mood had shifted. He wasn't suddenly Mr. Christmas, but he didn't snap or brush anything off as he had earlier.
Each ornament he placed on the tree sparkled as the twisted row of lights illuminated his apartment. He put each one on almost reverently, like each one meant more to him than even he expected. Once they were all hanging, I wrapped the tinsel around the tree and handed the star to Jake. "You wanna do the honors?"
His eyes were glossy, glowing in the light as he nodded and took the star. I could tell he was thinking about home - his first home, as he lowered it on the point of the tree and stepped back. "It's…"
"Beautiful," I finished for him, taking hold of his hand and leaning against him.
"Yeah," he eventually agreed. "It is."
We went about our usual routine that night. Dinner, shower, brushing our teeth together. His bed was soft and warm when we finally turned in for the night. Every light was off except the ones on the tree. It was beautiful and peaceful, a perfect end to a pretty perfect day.
“Thank you,” I whispered, staring at the lights. “For the tree. And… for telling me about your mom.”
“It…” Jake chuckled a bit and admitted, “It felt kind of good… telling you that.”
I grinned. “It’s annoying, isn’t it?”
“Extremely.”
“Your mom sounds like she was… an interesting person,” I eventually added.
“Yeah,” he agreed quietly.
With my head on his chest, I admired the glow of the lights, listening to his beating heart until I felt tired enough to close my eyes. There in the quiet, when he thought I was asleep, I felt Jake’s arms pull me in just a bit tighter and heard him whisper, “I think she would have liked you.”
*
"I'm not gonna go," Jake announced, closing his locker and fixing his shirt with slightly shaky hands.
Lena turned, glancing at him with a quirk of her lips. "No?"
He nodded, trying to hold onto that foolish and brave thing that made his chest warm every time he thought about spending Christmas with her. "I'm staying."
"I'd love that," she answered. "But, you know, it's not about me. Whatever you want is what you should do."
"I want to be here," he said firmly, leaning forward to kiss her. "With you and your loud, insane family."
Lena smiled, looking up at him like he'd just said something absolutely magical. "I look forward to it then. Patrick's gonna love it when you sit on his lap."
"What?"
"He dresses up like Santa and insists that everyone sits on his lap so they get presents."
His brows furrowed as he looked at her, trying to gauge whether or not she was joking. "Are you serious?"
She smiled, deviously shrugging her shoulders. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see."
Before he could beg her for a clearer picture, Simone stepped into the locker room, and the tension was immediate. Lena buttoned the last button on her shirt and pecked his cheek. "See you down there."
He nodded, watching her give him a thumbs up before making her way down the stairs. Now or never, he told himself. Just be honest. "Simone-"
"I think it'd be best if I went to the Cape by myself this Christmas," she said before he could say another word.
"What?" he asked, his heart nearly stopping in his chest.
She didn't even glance back at him as she replied. "I don't want you to come with me."
"You…" The words caught in his throat, and his whole body burned. "You don't… want me?"
Simone simply shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "You'll just fight and complain the whole time. I figured it'd be best if you didn't come this year."
This felt infinitely worse than arguing with her over not wanting to go. His chest felt tight, and his lungs were starved for air as he stood staring at her. "You…"
"I told you, I'm done carrying you." She turned and gave him a single cold look before she moved past him like he meant nothing to her. "It's time to grow up, Jake."
He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and part of him didn't want to. If he moved, or breathed, or cried, then that meant it was real. And it couldn't be real. He couldn't live without her… he couldn't do anything without Simone in his corner.
Eventually, once the noise of the restaurant began to grow, as those rich carefree assholes began sitting down, demanding more and more and more, his body moved. He didn't know where he was going or what he was going to do, he just walked through the kitchen and out the alley door. In the distance, he could hear Lena's voice calling his name, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop, because it was real. He'd finally fucked up one of the only things he had in his life worth keeping.
*
"Jake!" I called out after him, watching his body vanish in the crowd. "Damn it!"
I turned on my heel and hurried back inside, finding Simone just as she stepped forward to grab a few plates. "What the fuck did you say to him?"
She glanced at me with a slight grin before she moved on like it was all nothing. "Maybe I simply came to the same conclusion that you did."
You fucking bitch! "What did you say to him, Simone?"
"For once in our lives, I told him the truth." She glared at me. "I thought you, of all people, would appreciate that since the truth is so important to you, little one."
"God," I scoffed. "You aren't even a little bit ashamed of yourself."
Simone smiled, the kind of smile that told me this was only the first step of whatever desperate plan she'd cooked up. "Excuse me, the guests are waiting.
I wanted nothing more than to slap the plates out of her hands and beat the absolute hell out of her, but I didn't. It wouldn't have actually helped Jake or me. So, as she walked off, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted everyone.
Jake's having a really bad night. Please be on the lookout for him and text me or call me if you find him.
Where'd you see him last? Patrick.
I'll get word out to the other strippers, maybe we'll get lucky, and one of them will see him on their smoke break. Quinn.
I'll hold down the fort at the gym while Pat walks the street a bit. I'll let you know if I see him. Peter.
The bars not too busy quite yet, I'll make him something strong if he stops by. Ozzy.
I'll be finished early tonight, so I can meet up with Pat and look around for a bit. Maybe I'll stop by Nana's first and let her know we're looking for him. Prue.
Don't worry, I've got the boys on it. We'll find him. Dom.
I forced myself to breathe, replaying each of their messages over and over in my head as I slid behind the bar with Nicky. After each drink, I checked my phone. There was nothing yet. No sign of him at all, and that could only mean one thing. Fuck the Cape. I wish I'd gotten the chance to tell him that before he vanished.
Each time I caught sight of Simone, I couldn't help but mentally curse her in every way I knew how. And judging by the smirk permanently straining her cheeks, she knew it. It was sickening just how quickly she was able to drop her mask once Jake wasn't around to notice. It was sickening just how willing she was to hurt him to get whatever it was she wanted.
The second service was over, and I was out the door, only popping into the locker room to grab Jake's jacket and our clothes. Then, I was out on the streets, searching every inch of it as I made my way to his apartment. The keys shook in my hands as I fumbled to unlock the door. "Please be home. Please be home."
Hemingway was curled up on the couch when I finally got the door open. His food dish was empty, and the apartment looked the same as it had when we'd left. I tossed the bag of our clothes onto the counter and quickly turned. "Damn it!"
Clad in Jake's jacket and still wearing the uncomfortable striped work blouse, I took to the streets. I checked the movie theater, the shitty convenience store on his block, even the Chinese restaurant beneath his apartment. There was no sign of him. Not on my end.
Just as I stuck my hand out, ready to hail a cab and take it to the dumb Cape, my phone buzzed. I answered it instantly. "Is he with you?"
"No," Dom replied. "But I just ran into Prue. Patrick found him and is taking him to Nana's. Figured you'd wanna know."
"Thank fucking God!" I sighed. "I'll be there in a minute, do not let him leave!"
"I've got him," he replied. "Just relax."
"I'll relax when I see him," I answered, not caring how dumb it sounded.
The cab ride felt like it took hours, but the moment I hopped out and saw Jake sitting with Nana's arms around him through her window, it didn't matter. He's here. I forced myself to breathe and walk forward. He's not in the Cape. He's not in an alley. He's right here.
Nana rocked him back and forth, quietly singing a song in Arabic as she gently stroked his hair and held him as tightly as she could. Patrick was standing by the counter, close enough that I reached out and hugged him without a second thought. "Thank you for finding him."
"Of course," he replied. "Can't have the little brother gettin' into any trouble. Especially not this close to Christmas."
"How is he?"
"He's…" he stopped himself, taking a moment to consider what words would best suit the situation. "He's rough. Hasn't said a word to anyone since we found him."
Fucking damn that blonde bitch. I turned and looked over at him. "At least he's here."
"What happened?" Patrick asked, quickly switching languages. "What was his trigger?"
"A blonde fucking cunt that needs a serious asskicking." I made sure to say it low enough that Jake wouldn't hear, and in Irish, so even if he did, he wouldn't know what I'd said.
I let Nana hold him until her song had ended, and then I stepped up to bat. My hand landed on his shoulder, soft but firm enough that he could hopefully tell I wasn't going anywhere. Jake lifted his head from Nana's shoulder and looked up at me with red eyes. I smiled. "Hey."
He shook his head. "I fucked it all up."
"No," I whispered, carefully pulling him into my arms. "No, you didn't."
"She's done. Simone… she's finally through with me." He almost sobbed.
"She's just…" A bitter, self-centered, manipulative fucking shrew. "Angry. I'm sure she didn't really mean it."
Jake didn't hear me, or he didn't care about what I'd said, having already convinced himself it wasn't true. "I was supposed to do better. She needed me to do better, and I failed. I always fucking fail! Simone, the restaurant, my mom, you."
I pulled his face up, holding it in my hands. "Hey, you haven't failed anyone. Least of all me."
Tears streamed down his cheeks. "I… I… Can't."
"Just breathe," I whispered, pressing his head to my chest. "Feel my heartbeat and just try to breathe. I've got you, Jake. I've got you, and I'm not going anywhere."
It took hours for us to pull him out of it. Eventually, Jake hit a point where he seemed to snap back into a state of quiet, avoidant shock. He didn't meet anyone's eyes and barely said anything, so I accepted Nana's trays of food and quickly decided it was time we went back to his apartment.
"Be safe," Nana whispered, hugging Jake once more. "Call if you need us, habibi."
"Sure thing," he replied quietly, still not fully there.
Patrick tapped my arm. "Call if you need anything. I'll be there."
"Can you text Quinn, let her know that I've got him?"
"Sure thing, sis."
The cab ride was quiet. The walk up to Jake's apartment was quiet. The moment we stepped inside, quiet. And then, suddenly, Jake was ripping his work shirt off and throwing it across the room.
I set the food down and quietly followed his lead until both of us were standing in his apartment in our underwear. After a sob made his back shake, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him.
"It's just fucking bullshit!" He shouted, blinking harshly through the tears. "Simone. Your psycho ex. Howard. My fucking mom… Everything."
"I know," I answered, softly rubbing my hands up his arms.
"It's not fair," Jake whispered. "It's not fair that everyone else has amazing memories of Christmas and all I have are… fractured, broken, hideous pieces. It's not fair that Simone wants me to just swallow it and… and go back there every holiday, every birthday, every single time!"
With an understanding nod, I pulled myself off him and slid so I could reach up and touch his cheek. "It's not fair, and you have every right to be angry about that. You have every right to fall apart, to rage and hate Christmas, and be a total Grinch."
"She hates me," he whispered. "She actually fucking hates me now… after everything…"
"She doesn't hate you," I answered, even though I hated her and everything she was putting him through. "Simone's just upset. She just needs some time, and then you'll be able to talk it out."
"You think so?"
"I know so." I pressed my lips to his cheek. "Nobody could hate you."
He shook his head. "A lot of people hate me."
I smiled warmly at him and blinked a few tears of my own away. "Okay, maybe. But I don't. I'm here, and I am gonna fight like hell to give you some new, good Christmas memories, and you're gonna have to make peace with that."
Jake cleared his throat with a half-scoff. He looked at me like he didn't quite believe me, quietly asking for that reassurance I was more than willing to give him. "Yeah?"
"Absolutely." I didn't hesitate. "You're stuck with me, tough guy."
"The horror," he mumbled, pulling me into his chest.
"You'll live," I replied. "And eventually, you'll learn to like me."
His arms tightened around me. "I already like you."
*
Christmas Eve was quiet, until it wasn't. Rhythmic knocking echoed loudly from his front door, waking both him and Lena up from their sleep. "The fuck?"
Lena was up in seconds, pulling one of his shirts on over her head and yanking him out of bed. "It's starting!"
"What is?"
She opened the door to the Harrow crew, shouting, "HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVE!"
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVE!" Lena yelled back.
"Jesus Christ."
Patrick nodded, lifting his steaming coffee up. "That's the spirit!"
"It's way too early for this," he grumbled, turning and climbing back into bed.
Lena scoffed. "He's still a bit of a Grinch. Don't worry, I'll have him at the apartment on time."
"Good," Peter replied. "You still bringing the cocoa?"
"You know it."
Quinn's loud voice echoed through his pillow. "And have him fix that attitude!"
He lifted his hand and flipped her off. "Bitch."
"I'll Who him up," Lena vowed.
Once the door closed and Lena was back in bed with him, Jake mumbled, "I'm not gonna Who anything."
"We'll see," she answered with a grin. "Now, can I wish you a proper, happy Christmas Eve?"
His brows rose, and he pulled himself out of his pillow. "I'm listening."
Pulling her shirt off and leaning over him, she shook her head. "So simple."
After a long morning in bed, the shower, and the couch, Jake couldn't deny he was in a much better mood when they walked into the Harrow apartment. It was cramped and filled with plates of food, pillows, and blankets, and of course, the loud people he'd grown to love.
"Finally!" Ozzy said, pulling both him and Lena into a hug. "Thought you two were gonna make us wait all night."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Oz," Lena replied. "Where are our seats?"
He gestured to a small chair covered in a big yellow blanket. "Best seat in the house for our new member."
Jake scoffed. "Who me? You know I don't need special treatment."
"But you'll get it all the same," the big man insisted. "And I won't tolerate any complaints!"
"Alright," he relented. "Alright."
Lena pulled him to his seat and smiled. "Want a beer?"
"Absolutely." He stopped her. "You never told me what we're actually doing here, by the way."
"I know," she whispered back. "Don't worry, it'll be fun."
Then she was gone, sliding into the kitchen with Quinn and Prue. That was when Patrick strolled into the apartment, clad head to toe in a Santa costume. "Good god."
"Ho Ho Ho!" He cheered, belly jiggling comically. "Merry Christmas!"
"Santa!" Prue squealed, running up to jump into his arms, laughing the whole time.
Katie entered the apartment shortly after, dressed in an elegant Mrs. Claus costume that only made Patrick look more ridiculous. Everyone talked over one another, noisily complimenting Katie and making fun of Patrick. Despite the loudness, Jake found himself wanting to join in.
He wouldn't, though, because that would be ridiculous.
Jake watched as everyone gathered around Patrick and sat in his lap, gushing about what presents they wanted. So she wasn't joking, he mused from his chair. Got it. Patrick Santa pointed across the room at him. "Ohhh Jaaakeeee." He patted his thigh. "Come sit on Santa's lap and tell him what a good boy you've been this year!"
"You sound like a pedophile," Jake replied.
"Santa is not a pedophile!" He said. "Come on!"
Lena pulled at him. "Oh, come on, you have to!"
"Why?" He grumbled.
"It's tradition!"
Quinn wrapped an arm around Ari and began the chant that would haunt Jake's nightmares until everyone, even Lena, was shouting it. "Sit on his lap! Sit on his lap! Sit on his lap!"
With a sigh, he pulled himself up. "Fiiineee! Just shut up, I'll sit on his damn lap!"
"YAY!"
Jake sat on the edge of Patrick's knee, stiffly staring at the dressed-up man as he stifled his laughter. "If I check my list, which one will your name be on, Jake?"
"I've been a very good boy," Jake deadpanned.
"A very good boy!" Patrick proclaimed. "And what would you like for Christmas this year?"
"Normal friends," he answered.
"BOOO!" the Harrow crowd chimed in.
Patrick nodded, still pretending to be Santa. "Normal friends, got it. Anything else?"
Jake rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I would love a Polly Pocket."
"Polly Pocket," Patrick hummed. "Of course."
Thankfully, Ozzy clapped his hands before Jake could embarrass himself further. "It's time! Everyone, get your snacks, drinks, and go sit in your seats!"
Jake was off Pat's lap in a second, finding Lena in the small apartment and watching her stuff a plate full of food, quickly shoving it into his hands. "Hold this."
"What's it time for?"
"It's movie time," she replied, wiggling her brows. "Go sit down. Don't let Prue steal my apple slices! I'll grab our beers!"
He chuckled, following her instructions and settling in the chair as Ozzy stood in front of the TV with a pair of glasses hanging off his nose as he sifted through the VCR tapes. Lena balanced their drinks on the windowsill and took the plate from Jake before she settled in his lap. "What am I, Santa now?"
She laughed and popped one of the apple slices in his mouth before quietly asking, "Are you having fun?"
"A little," he admitted.
"Well, it's about to get a whole lot better," she promised.
Better was an understatement. The second the TV lit up, and a younger-looking Ozzy's face filled the screen, Jake just knew this was going to be one of the best nights of his life. Home movies. That was the great surprise.
"Is it on?" An unfamiliar voice asked.
"I think so," Ozzy answered, turning the camera and laughing. "Told you I could figure it out!"
And there, on the screen, was the famous Jack Harrow. He was bigger than the pictures made him look, and happier than Jake could have imagined. Lena leaned further into him, smiling widely as she watched the screen with a fondness that made him wish he'd actually gotten to know her dad.
"Well, let's get to it!" Jack laughed. "The kids are gettin impatient!"
"You finally figure it out?" Peter asked, the camera panning to him with a head of hair and bushy eyebrows.
"Whooooo!" Quinn cheered. "Look at that mane!"
The camera shifted again, this time to Patrick, who looked like a scragglier version of himself with buzzed hair and a filthy face. "Took ya long enough."
Lena turned her head and laughed. "I always forget about that horrible haircut."
Patrick shrugged. "I got lice and didn't know how to handle it. Sue me."
The camera turned one last time, and Lena's sixteen-year-old self filled the screen. Jake felt his joy drop for a moment as he stared at the too-thin girl, sitting in the very chair he did now. Her hair was dull and black with red roots growing out, her smile looked strained and her eyes looked tired as she looked at Ozzy with an exaggerated eye roll. "Is that really necessary?"
"Course it is," Jack insisted. "It's your first Christmas back, we gotta remember it!"
Lena squeezed his hand, a quiet reminder that she was here now… healthy and happy. Jake breathed out his anger and leaned his head into her shoulder. She's come a long way since then, and she'll never have to go back.
Tape after tape, they watched, laughing at how ridiculous everyone looked back then and cheering for Jack and Nana. Tape after tape, Jake felt his hardened exterior begin to melt as the Harrow's odd tradition enveloped him. As Lena began to doze off in his arms, Jake could feel himself letting go of the guilt he'd been carrying since Simone left for Cape Cod.
This is where I wanna be, he decided. This is where I belong.
*
Christmas always came much sooner than I expected it to. Christmas Eve had only just ended, and here we all were gathered around Nana's tree in the diner, talking and laughing and trying to guess what presents sat under the tree waiting for us to open them. Gingerbread filled the air, and the snow outside actually felt beautiful.
Jake had been in much higher spirits since our movie night tradition, and that made me feel more at ease. Simone still deserved the biggest asskicking in the world for what she put him through, but as I watched him and Patrick and Peter talk about boxing with smiles on their faces, I couldn't bring myself to be mad at her right now. And as the day continued, Simone became nothing but a blip in the back of my mind, and more importantly, the back of Jake's.
We sat in the seats, all watching each other open gifts and sometimes trying to explain the thought process behind some of them. Quinn tossed a gift to Jake with a smug smile. "There you go, asshole."
"Thanks bitch," he replied ripping it open to reveal the tiny Polly Pocket. Jake chuckled. "Seriously?"
"You said you wanted one!"
"I was joking!"
"Well, maybe next time you'll take Santa time more seriously."
When it finally reached me, I couldnt contain my smile, hurriedly grabbing his gift from beneath the tree. "Tada!"
"When did you even have the time to get this?" He asked, taking it from me.
"Yeah?" Quinn added. "You two have been practically glued together all month."
I rolled my eyes. "I've still got some tricks up my sleeve!"
He glanced up at me, guilt making his face look sad once again. "I didn't get you anything."
I waved him off. "You got me more than enough for my birthday. Now, open it!"
He peeled back the wrapping paper, frustratingly slow, and it took every ounce of my self-control not to grab the box and rip the paper off myself. Eventually, he got to the box and popped the top open, staring down inside it with a surprised smile. "Holy shit."
"Do you like it?"
"Where did you find this?" He asked, pulling the camera out of the box. "And how the hell did you afford it?"
I grinned. "I may have stopped by that old camera shop you took me to and bargained with the crotchety old man for it."
"How did you know this was the one I wanted?"
"You couldn't take your eyes off it last time we were there." I shrugged. "Figured that meant you liked it."
"That was forever ago," he replied, shaking his head. "How did you remember that?"
"I remembered because it's you," I answered, feeling stupid the second the words left my lips. A blush rose to my cheeks. "So you like it?"
Jake smiled, watching me carefully. "I love it. Thanks, princess."
"You're welcome." I lifted myself up and quickly kissed him before clapping my hands. "Okay, what did everyone get me?"
Patrick groaned. "Your birthday was literally two weeks ago, I didn't get you shit!"
I gasped. "Santa didn't get me anything?"
He flipped me off. "Santa brought it to you early for your birthday."
"Santa's a bit of a bitch."
"Oh, so it's fine if your little boyfriend doesn't get you anything, but if Santa doesn't, it's suddenly the end of the world?"
"That's literally Santa's job!"
After a long, entirely too amusing argument with "Santa", we opened up the rest of our presents and watched more home movies while Nana brought piles upon piles of food. Jake took pictures with his camera, grinning ear to ear every time he lifted it up. And as Christmas came to a quiet close, Jake and I said goodbye and headed back to his place with our arms full of food and gifts.
When we'd finished unpacking and feeding Hemingway, we curled up in his bed, happy and full. "So, how was your first Harrow Christmas?"
Jake smiled at me. "Perfect."
I kissed him. "Merry Christmas, Jake."
"Merry Christmas, Lena."
Dumb as it might have been, I knew deep down by the smile on Jake's face that I'd been successful. His heart had grown a size. And I couldn't wait until next year to help it grow two more.
TW: As always: the tw does contain spoilers! This fic has language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, sex, nudity, general mentions of violence, past abuse, and soooo on. This week on Nightshade (said in Jake's voice) 🧐😂 Old faces make an appearance at 22West. Simone and Jake confront each other. Tensions rise between our newly established couple and Jake's insecurities/trauma becomes too much to ignore. We've got a wild ride ahead with lots of trauma mentioned and a lot still unmentioned. Jake's kind of an asshole in the beginning of this, our idiots open up to each other a little, we've got fluff and family bonding and family traditions, ice skating, and family pictures, and, shockingly, no cliffhanger today!
As always, enjoy my lovelies! And I didn't do a great job proofreading/editing this one, so sorry if there are mistakes! But, enjoy anyway!
“Bonjour Beauté.”
A large hand ran over his black hair, neatly slicked back in a French fashion. His lips turned upward in that signature charismatic smile. Pale eyes watched every move I made with that glint of glee and mischief. That glint was one of the only things that separated him from Anthony, in appearance at least.
Once the shock had worn off and my limbs didn’t feel so heavy, I ground my teeth together, hands balling into fists as I moved forward without thinking. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Claude scoffed, holding a hand over his heart as though my words had wounded him. “Oh, how cruel you’ve grown since spreading your little wings!”
“Get out.” I shoved him towards the door.
“Oh, come now,” he cooed. “Aren’t you at least a little happy to see me alive and well?”
“No.”
“So crass.” He grinned wider. “And here I thought you’d learned your manners.”
You miserable, good-for-nothing, fucking asshole! I wanted to punch him, to scream at him for all the bullshit he’d blamed on me over the years and all the stupid, impulsive decisions he’d twisted me into and watched me get punished for. “Get. Out.”
“I am a guest,” Claude replied simply with the arrogant, self-important look he was so fond of.
“Well, we’re closed.”
“When has that ever stopped me?”
My hand fisted in his fine silk shirt, and I pulled him in close, whispering one final warning to him so low my coworkers couldn’t hear. “Leave now, before this gets ugly.”
The prick had the nerve to chuckle. “Are you going to shoot me? Like you shot dear Anthony?”
“Claude?” A soft voice asked from the top of the stairs, interrupting any reaction I would have had to his insults. I turned eyes meeting Simone’s, and my heart dropped. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
With a click of his tongue, Claude pulled my fingers from his shirt and straightened out his jacket. He winked as he stepped around me entirely to stare up at her like some lovestruck poet. “Simone.”
She hurried down the stairs, looking less like a shrew and more like a foolish teenager. Her eyes quickly darted to where Jake still stood by the kitchen doors, likely still reeling from my very sudden outburst. That simple flick of her eyes was all I needed to see through the pomp and frill and spectacle. This is an act. For both of them. “What are you doing here?”
“After our first meeting, I could not resist myself.” Claude lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “You are magnetic.”
“You could have called,” she replied.
“Nonsense, such an important question requires… finesse that only the eyes can offer.”
“And what question is that?”
“A date, of course.” He puffed up his chest. “Dinner. You and I. Wine. Candlelight.”
“Sounds rather romantic.”
“It will be,” he assured. “So, is that a yes?”
Her eyes drifted to Jake, as if conveying a message through her expression alone. I could see the hurt in his eyes, mixing with the fear in a way that made my gut twist. He shook his head, pleading with her, or trying to at least. Then, just as quickly, Simone turned her head away and smiled back at Claude. “Of course. How could I refuse such heartfelt eyes?”
He laughed, loud and boisterous and so obviously fake, if only to me. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Come then.”
“One moment,” Simone said, gesturing to her uniform. “I’ll have to change.”
“I shall wait,” he said, turning his head to look at me with that smile. “And catch up with old friends.”
I watched her leave, Jake’s eyes following her every step before they shifted to me. It wasn’t anger that I found in them, but uncertainty. All the things he still didn’t know - all of what he didn’t understand was bubbling up inside him the way I’d seen too many times to count. It was only a matter of time before it all either imploded or exploded.
Peter internalized it all. The unknowns, the way certain words or actions would set off a reaction in me. It imploded within him, eating away at him until all he could do was try his hardest to stand between me and the storm. Patrick, however, was the opposite. Everything he didn’t understand, all the things he still didn’t know, festered and boiled over like a pot of water left too long on the stove. He exploded on anything and anyone that got in his way.
What will Jake do? I wondered as he turned away from me and headed back into the kitchen and upstairs, where Simone waited. Will he tear himself apart? Or will he tear someone else apart? Will I let him get to that point?
Claude’s arm settled across my shoulders. “Now, tell me, did you enjoy your birthday present?”
*
Jake’s heart hadn’t stopped hammering since Lena froze beside him. This is it, he’d told himself the second he caught a glimpse of that French-speaking asshole. This is him. But, once she’d jumped into action and practically kicked his ass back out the door, he’d quickly deduced it was not, in fact, Tony. Not yet, at least.
The relationship was odd between Lena and this Claude. It was strained to the point where Jake could’ve sworn she’d felt something for him at one point. The way she glared at him - the way she held herself tighter, it all reminded him of when he’d told Simone about the gym. This was the way she looked when she’d felt betrayed by him. So, it begged the question, How did Claude betray her?
“Claude?” It was Simone’s voice that shook him out of the trace of thought he’d entered. His head turned, and his eyes went wide at the sight of her giddy smile.
She never looks at anyone like that, Jake seethed, hands balling into fists at his side as his heart hammered louder and louder. Not even me. Not anymore.
“Simone.”
“What are you doing here?”
The second Simone was close enough, Claude lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to it. His lips lingered too long, his eyes radiating that smug self-importance that made Jake absolutely hate the man. “After our first meeting, I could not resist myself. You are magnetic.”
“You could have called,” she replied, almost like a whisper… a flirtation.
He flirted back. “Nonsense, such an important question requires… finesse that only the eyes can offer.”
“And what question is that?”
“A date, of course.” He stood up straighter. “Dinner. You and I. Wine. Candlelight.”
“Sounds rather romantic.” He rolled his eyes. Give me a break. There’s no way she’s falling for this.
“It will be,” he assured. “So, is that a yes?”
Then, her head turned, and her eyes met his. Say no, he thought, trying to convey the message with his eyes. This guy is trouble, Simone. Say. No. Then, just as quickly, she turned her head away and smiled back at Claude, and he felt his whole world shift. “Of course. How could I refuse such heartfelt eyes?”
Jake didn’t hear the rest of the conversation over the sound of ringing in his ears. He didn’t know anything about Claude, only that when Lena saw him, she was scared and angry, and that was enough. Whoever he was, whatever ties he held to the torment Lena endured, he could not let Simone leave with him.
If he’s anything like Tony… he could hurt her… he could… Jake shook his head, looking at Lena as soon as Simone’s fuzzy form vanished back upstairs. Her eyes were bright, even now, filled with concern and something he couldn’t quite place. For a moment, he felt torn between the two of them, and it was like his nightmare had come to life right in front of his eyes.
He could either stay and help Lena deal with whatever this was, or he could go after Simone and… try to convince her not to go with Claude. Either way, Jake knew he’d be letting one of them down. Either way, you fail, just like you always do. He forced himself to take a deep breath and try not to think about it too much. With a final breath, he turned away from Lena and headed upstairs to the locker room.
She can handle Claude, he told himself over and over again. She’ll be fine without me.
“You can’t go out with him,” Jake said, desperation bleeding into his voice, causing it to crack.
Simone’s brows rose. “I can’t?”
“Simone-”
“You do not get to tell me what I can and can’t do, Jake. Especially not after all you’ve put me through this week. All the secrets you’ve been keeping from me.”
Jake swallowed hard, trying to figure out what words he could say that would get through to her while also protecting whatever ties to Lena he could. “Simone…”
She turned then, stripping herself of her shirt, and gave him the same look she’d given him the whole night. “Oh, now you want to talk?”
“I missed one phone call,” he attempted to argue.
“You missed several phone calls,” she replied bitterly. “And that’s not even mentioning the way you abandoned me on Thanksgiving and every moment since in favor of that redheaded floozy.”
“You said that we were good,” he almost yelled. “After all of it, you told me we were fine!”
“Of course we aren’t fine, Jake!” She screamed back. “You have abandoned me at every turn in favor of someone you barely know! And now you’re parading her around like she’s the most important thing in your life. After everything I’ve done for you, she’s the one you put effort into making happy. She’s the one you run to when she calls. Acting like she’s the one that’s been carrying you all these years.”
He forced himself to let go of the insults and the dismissal of what he felt for Lena. Her safety was more important right now. “I’m sorry-”
“You’re sorry?” She laughed that horrible laugh, void of any joy or fondness. “Well, I’m sorry, Jake, but I don’t believe you. You have always been selfish and avoidant, but lately it’s…” with a shake of her head, Simone shrugged, blinking away the tears building in her eyes. “It’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
It struck him hard, just how much he’d fucked up, and with that, the fear in his gut erupted. “Simone, I’m sorry. I was just…” Happy.
She shook her head. “You were just doing what you always do. Abandoning me. Abandoning all we’ve been through and built together in favor of the newest flavor of the month. And yet, just like the last time, it spiraled out of your control and turned into this misshapen thing that I’m going to have to clean up after.”
“We’re just casually dating,” he finally ground out before he could stop himself. After the words settled between them, he forced himself back on track. “What Lena and I have has nothing to do with this!”
“Doesn’t it?” She gestured to the door. “You’re not here, trying to stop me from going out with a perfectly fine man because she’s convinced you that you should?”
“No. She didn’t say anything to me about this. I’m just trying to protect you.”
With a roll of her eyes, Simone zipped up her skirt and began to put on her nice blouse. “Protect me? From what, Jake? From a chance at being happy? Or at the very least, having a pleasant evening?”
His teeth ground together as he tried to find a way to tell her without actually telling her. “I’m just… He’s not the person you think he is, and I need you to trust me.”
“Trust you? How can I trust someone who has hurt me so deeply?” She shook her head and scoffed, turning away from him to fix her lipstick in the mirror. “Besides, when did you start caring about who I went out with?”
“I have always cared who you went out with.” He stepped closer to her, forcing her to see him through the reflection. “When you first started dating Etienne, I did everything I could to convince you to stay. And then when you and Serena started fighting over Fred, I was the only one who told you to let it go. He wasn’t worth it then, and he wasn’t when you slept with him again last year.” He set a hand on her shoulder. “Please, Simone. Trust me, this time when I’m telling you this asshole isn’t worth it.”
She turned then, eyes soft as she looked at him closely and lifted her hand to his cheek. For a moment, it felt like it used to. Warm and consuming, safe. Then that moment was gone. “Where did I go wrong with you?”
Jake felt like words had physically punched him as Simone’s hand fell away from his face and she turned her back on him. The locker room walls felt like they were closing in as the dam that had held back years of self-loathing and fear crumpled. His thoughts swarmed with all the times he’d failed Simone, every single moment of their lives when she’d needed him and he’d been too selfish to see it. “I don’t need this, Jake.”
He could see the look she’d given him in the cellar. It felt like forever ago… Yet, he could never forget how hurt she’d been. “One of these days, I’m just going to be done with you.”
Don’t say that.
He felt the tears slide down his cheeks, and yet he almost couldn’t feel anything at all. All that remained was the soul-crushing weight of the new words that would haunt him for the rest of his life. “Where did I go wrong with you?”
Please, A pathetic sob somehow squeezed its way out of his tight throat. “Don’t say that.”
*
I watched Simone leave with Claude, both of them a mess of fake smiles and flirting, though I was the only one who seemed to see through it. Sasha and Ari practically squealed at the new gossip, while everyone else participated at a less enthusiastic level. The Russian pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his jacket pocket. “I bet blondie does the nasty tonight!”
Heather rolled her eyes. “Simone’s way too sophisticated for that.”
“She’s a prude, we know,” Ari added with a thoughtful look. “Buuutt she seemed to be super into his whole French vibe. So, maybe she’ll let loose for once.”
Sasha’s head turned to me, eyes narrowing as he pointed his middle finger my way. “You did not like this French boy, Tiger Bitch.”
Ari leaned closer, twirling a strand of my hair around her finger. “Yeah, what’s the story there?”
“Lovers?” Sasha gasped. “Or is he your arch nemesis?”
“Neither,” I replied, moving away from the crowd. “I’m gonna go check on Jake.”
“You two coming to dinner?” Scott yelled after me.
“Yeah, we’ll catch up!”
“You know what that’s code for, right?” Ari giggled.
Sasha cheered, slamming his hands down on the bartop. “SEX! SEX! SEX!”
The locker room was quiet when I got to the top of the stairs. All I could hear was Jake’s uneven breathing and quiet mumbles. He stood with his forehead pressed into the lockers, hands held close to his chest as he talked to himself so lowly I couldn’t hear what he was saying. “Hey. Simone just left everyone was-”
“You let her leave?” He ground out, turning to glare at me as though I’d just told him I’d punched her.
“Was I not supposed to?”
“I don’t know, you’re the one who was acting like this guy was the fucking anti-Christ or something!” He rolled his shoulders, grimacing like he was in physical pain. “God fucking damn it!”
It felt strange, seeing him so irritable after everything we’d been through over the past week. He’s been so calm and collected through everything. Why now? I wondered, quietly watching him unravel for a moment before the truth of it hit me.
Jake had been so focused on me, he’d pushed off everything else. Every fear, every doubt, every second of anything that couldn’t be used to help him help me was shoved aside and deemed unnecessary. Now it was all just catching up to him. Now there was no way he could push it aside.
I took a step forward, hand reaching out to try to touch him, soothe him like I usually would. “Hey, it’s oka-”
“It’s not okay!” He yelled, pulling away from my touch.
“Jake-”
“No! This fucking asshole is out there with her right now, leading her into god knows what! He could fucking hurt her or worse…” His voice trailed off as he brought his hands to his head, fingers tangling into his hair so tight I could see it strain his scalp. “Fucking useless. Like always.”
“Jake,” I quietly repeated. “Claude isn’t dangerous. He’s just a massive asshole.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, right. A massive asshole that had you that fucking scared? I don’t think so.”
“I wasn’t scared of him.” I could feel a slight twinge begin to burn in my chest. Offense? Anger? I wasn’t sure.
“You sure looked pretty fuckin scared to me.”
“I-”
“I can’t fucking do this right now.” He pulled his hands out of his hair and shoved past me. “I’ve gotta go find her and… make sure she’s fucking safe.”
I whirled around, my hand wrapping around his wrist. “Jake!”
“WHAT?!” He screamed, turning fast and practically running into me.
With a flinch back, I held his gaze. “Do you really think I’d let her go with him if I thought he’d hurt her?”
He paused for a moment, something at war within himself showing through the tempest in his eyes. The fear he felt, for Simone or for something else, won in the end as he pulled his arm out of my grasp and said, “I don’t know.”
It was just as sudden as it was brutal. The sting of hurt scattered across my chest like lightning, stealing the breath from my lungs and bringing tears to my eyes. Does he really think so low of me? I watched Jake notice the hurt his words caused. And in that way of his, it was like he heard my thoughts. Is he scared of me now? Of what I’m capable of? Of the pain I inevitably cause?
I swallowed and nodded, trying as hard as I could to push past it and… be there for him. “Okay. Well, I’ll… I’ll come with you.”
“No.” He turned away and started walking again. “Just leave me alone.”
It wasn’t until I heard his footsteps fade entirely that I answered through tears, “Okay.”
I caught up with the others just as they’d started walking to dinner. They had a hundred questions, none of which I felt up to answering. Somewhere down the block, Sasha bumped me and held out his cigarette. “You look like you need a hit.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, taking it and inhaling as deeply as my lungs would allow. The bitter tang of smoke filled my senses, numbing the feeling of disappointment that had settled in me like a stone.
“Just leave me alone.” The voice in my head wasn’t Jake’s. It was mine.
Dad sighed, leaning back against the bar and looking at me with that sad look. “Why do you have to make this so hard, kid?”
“It would be easy if you’d just leave me the hell alone!” I screamed back, shoving a few chairs over. “All day, every day it’s talk, talk, talk! Well, I don’t wanna fucking talk anymore!”
“Language, Lena,” he reprimanded calmly. “You got every right to be angry, but I won’t have you swearin’ like a sailor just yet.”
I groaned, pulling at my hair as I fought the urge to destroy more… to hurt him as badly as I hurt. “STOP TALKING!”
Dad took it with his chin up, like he always did. He let me yell at him until I was blue in the face, and never once did the love in his eyes fade.
“I fucking hate everything! I hate you! I hate Ozzy! I hate Patrick! I hate Peter! I hate…” I couldn’t bring myself to say his name, but Dad knew. “I’m done. I just want everyone fuck off and to leave me alone!” I could feel the tears building in my eyes, burning and turning the world hazy.
With a nod, he stood. “Is that really what you want?”
This time, I couldn’t hold it back. A sob forced its way out of my throat, and the tears spilled down my cheeks. I didn’t need to answer his question. Dad stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me as tightly as he could. “I’ve got ya, Lee. I’ve got ya and I ain’t never lettin’ go.”
I stopped walking, staring ahead as it dawned on me. I fucked up.
Sasha waved his hand in front of my face. “I said a hit, not the whole thing. Give it.”
I quickly handed him what was left of the cigarette and turned on my heel in the opposite direction. “He just asked for his cigarette back.”
“Yes, you don’t have to take it so personally, Tiger!”
I hailed a cab and gave him the address, offering to pay him extra if he could get me there as fast as possible. The whole drive, I was anxiously looking out the windows, scanning the crowds for Jake’s familiar build and asshole features. Come on. Come on. Come on. I threw the money at the cabbie the second he pulled up in front of Jake’s building and rushed up the stairs. I fished the key out of my pocket and quietly mumbled, “Please be home. Please, please, please, be home.”
The second the door swung open, I was met with the absolute destruction of his apartment. Hemingway was curled up beneath the sofa, only leaving the safety of it once he’d noticed me. He ran fast, jumping up into my arms and pawing lovingly at my face. Jake was curled up on the floor, beer in one hand and his phone in the other. The ringing echoed from it for a moment and then was followed by Simone’s faint voice.
He groaned. “God damn it, Simone. Pick up. Please.” I heard him choke back a sob. “Please don’t leave me.”
I pushed the door closed, and the click of it shutting drew Jake’s attention instantly. He staggered until he was up on his feet again. “What are you doing here?”
Hemingway returned to his hiding place. “I’m here to help, however you need me to.”
“Get out,” Jake replied. “I don’t want your help! I don’t want anything from anyone! I just want to be left the fuck alone!”
“Really?” I asked, quietly, carefully. “Is that really what you want?”
Jake’s lips quivered as he struggled to form the answer. Then, his head shook. I dropped everything, rushing forward and wrapping him up in my arms as tightly as I could. He buried his face in my hair and finally released the sobs he was holding in.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go.”
*
It took hours for Jake to settle, and once he did, he looked horrible. It was like all the life had been drained from him as he slumped against the couch from his place on the floor. I sat across from him, hands resting on his legs as I tried to find the words to say now. Dad would know what to say, I thought. He always did.
“I don’t want this to be the focus of the conversation,” I finally started. “But I… I’d like to know… Did you really think I’d let her go if I thought she’d be in danger?”
“I…” Jake paused, forcing a tired breath from his lungs. “No.”
“Claude is a piece of shit, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone.” I looked away, trying with all my might not to be offended by the terrified idea he’d had of me just letting something horrible happen to someone, even someone like Simone. “And Simone seems like she can handle herself. She’ll manage him just fine.”
Jake’s head hit the back of his locker, and he sighed. “She can handle just about anything. I’m just…”
“You just worry.” I settled against the lockers beside him. “I know.”
“I didn’t mean to make it seem like I don’t trust you,” he said quietly, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “After everything that’s gone on in the past few weeks… I’m just on edge.”
“Sorry,” I whispered, looking up at him. “That’s probably my fault.”
“No,” he quickly said with a firm shake of his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
I smiled. “It’s okay. I get it. My bullshit… it’s a lot.”
“It’s not bullshit, and it’s not your fault.”
“Jake, relax,” I urged, smoothing a hand down his bicep. “I’m not mad or saying shit just to make you feel bad. I know how rough dealing with my baggage can be, and I’m genuinely sorry it’s put so much stress on you.” He opened his mouth, another argument locked and loaded. “Stop. Just listen for two minutes. I’m glad you were there with me. You helped me more than… more than anyone has in a while. But I also understand that being there for someone you care about is stressful. And this… it’s complicated, and I don’t always handle it in the most healthy ways. So, what I’m trying to say is it’s okay. It’s okay that you’re stressed and being kind of a dick.” That finally got a laugh out of him. “I get it, and I promise I’m not gonna hold a grudge or judge you for whatever it is you’ve got going on.”
For a minute, he just looked at me, the way I’d been looking at everyone else lately. Searching for that slip-up. Then, when he didn’t see it, Jake finally sighed and said, “Simone’s finally done with me.”
“What?”
“She said she’s tired of holding me up and carrying me. She’s tired of getting pushed aside and abandoned and…” he shook his head. “She’s right. I’ve been inconsiderate and… I haven’t been there for her.”
“You just said Simone can handle pretty much anything.”
“Yeah, but she still needs me.” He looked down at his fingers, picking at them harder. “I’m all she’s had for so long, and I just drop her the second I get the chance to? What kind of person does that?”
I shook my head and sighed, “You didn’t drop her, Jake.”
“I let her go to the Cape alone for Thanksgiving, knowing full well what her family is like. She needed me, and I wasn’t there. I chose not to be there.”
“Simone knows what that place does to you.” I lifted his chin with my hand. “That wasn’t you abandoning her. It was you setting a boundary. She shouldn’t have asked you to choose between her and your own well-being.”
“She’s been trying to get a hold of me all week, and I’ve just been -”
“Busy.” I smiled, soft and kind, desperately trying to reassure him. “It’s not like you were out partying and having the time of your life without answering her calls on purpose. You’ve been busy trying to help me, Nana, Peter, Patrick, and Quinn. You haven’t been selfishly or purposefully ignoring her. Shit just got in the way. She should understand that.”
“She-”
“How many times has she had to blow you off because something important came up?”
His eyes finally met mine. “A few.”
With a nod, I stroked his cheek. “I think you’re entitled to have things come up, too.”
“Thanks,” he whispered, a look of guilt still stuck in his ocean eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry for scaring you earlier.”
I tilted my head and smiled, “Do I look scared to you?”
“Don’t,” he answered desperately. “Don’t excuse what I did.”
“You didn’t do anything,” I replied, squeezing his cheek. “And I wasn’t scared of you.”
I could never be scared of you.
“So, Claude’s just an asshole?” Jake asked, quietly clearing his throat.
“Yeah,” I answered. “He's not gonna hurt her, Jake. I promise.”
“Why do you hate him then?” he shook his head and added, “Aside from him being an asshole.”
“He used to be my friend. My only friend after…” I swallowed hard and quickly moved on. “But then he started using and getting into trouble, and he thought it was funny to pull me into it. He'd steal things and plant them on me, ruin Tony's favorite suits and blame me for it.”
“Sounds fucked up.”
“The worst was when he'd pull me along on his ‘field trips'. He’d sneak us out and tell me they said it was fine that we went to the bar, or to some party for a few hours. I'd have fun, and then Tony would march in and absolutely lose it.” I pulled away, settling back against his coffee table and lost myself in the words - in the odd feeling of relief that came with saying them out loud. Saying them to him. “That's what happened on my birthday. Claude said it was all part of Tony's gift to me… We went to some shitty bar. He got shitfaced and disappeared. Tony found me and… we were driving back to his place, and he was so angry. He held a knife to my throat and… I honestly thought he was finally mad enough to just do it.” My hand lifted, fingers tentatively gliding over the scar left behind. The words were harder to get out this time, but I’d somehow still managed to say them. “I don’t know, I guess I realized I actually wanted to live… or maybe I’d just finally had enough, so I sort of jumped out of his car.”
Jake's expression was sadder than I'd anticipated when I looked up. His brows had furrowed, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Sad as he looked, it wasn't pity like I was used to. It was anger wrapped in sorrow and shock and… Guilt. It was like somehow, Jake felt everything I did, and it terrified me.
Clearing my throat, I looked away and sat up straighter. This isn’t about you, I scolded myself. “Thankfully, Dom was close by. He helped me out, and I took off running through the snow til I found my dad.”
“I…” Jake shook his head. “I’m fucking terrible at this.”
“You’re better at it than you think,” I answered. “Besides, we’re here for you tonight, not for me.”
“Lena-”
“Nope. Shush.” I moved, sitting in his lap and pressing my finger to his lips. “Tonight this is a Lena’s bullshit free zone.”
His lips lifted beneath my finger. “I think there’s enough room for both of our bullshit.”
I glanced around and sucked in a breath. “I dunno, your apartment its pretty crowded already.”
“We can make room.”
“Later, maybe,” I said kissing his head. “But, right now it’s my turn to take care of you.”
He made a sound that sounded too much like protesting.
“It’ll go a lot easier once you just accept it,” I urged.
“Fine,” he huffed, arms wrapping around me. “Coddle me, princess.”
“I’m not gonna coddle you.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Not even if I said please?”
“No,” I replied, stifling a laugh.
Jake was quiet for a minute before he quietly asked, “What if I said pretty please?”
“Oh my god, do you have to make this so hard?”
“Absolutely.”
I stood up from his lap, ignoring his protests, and pulled him into the bathroom. “Come on, jerk.”
With gentle hands and a lot of patience, I pulled his clothes off him and carefully helped him step into the tub. I guided him into the spray of hot water, quickly asking, "Is it too hot?"
"No," Jake answered, relaxing into my body as I too stepped into the shower. "It's perfect."
"Good.” I kissed his collarbone. “Now turn around so I can wash your hair.”
I lathered his soap on my hands and carefully lifted myself onto the tips of my toes to reach Jake’s head properly. The suds turned his dark hair white as I massaged his scalp with my nails. He groaned quietly. “That feels nice.”
Laughing, I pressed my body into his. “It’s supposed to.”
“Don’t be so smug,” he teased, quietly moaning as my hands slid down to massage his shoulders.
“Careful,” I whispered. “All those pretty noises might get you into trouble.”
Jake smiled then, likely recalling him telling me something similar. “I like trouble.”
“Oh, I know.”
After a long massage, he tipped his head back into the water, rinsing the suds from his hair and letting the hot water relax whatever knots remained in his body. After he was clean, I slid past him to switch places. I used his soap and shampoo without even thinking - without even having to. His arms wrapped around me, and his lips pressed to my shoulder, to the scar on my skin. This time, I leaned into his touch.
We stood in that shower for what felt like hours before I finally managed to pull myself and him from the warmth and back out into his living room. Hemingway had pulled himself out from beneath the couch and curled up on the edge of Jake’s bed. His eyes watched us both as I dug through Jake’s drawers and found both of us clothes for the night.
I carefully shoved him into bed and tidied up his apartment before I turned the lights off and locked the door. The city lights illuminated the room enough for me to make my way to bed and crawl in beside him. The shapes of light played across his ceiling in the way I found so comforting as Jake pulled me into him.
"You used the key," he quietly mumbled.
I blushed, feeling oddly giddy about a dumb spare key. “Yeah, that’s kind of what it was for.”
My fingers traced Jake's tattoos, and his traced mine. Neither of us said anything else. We didn’t need to. And, for the first time in a long time, that silence felt peaceful. I nuzzled my head into his chest and closed my eyes.
*
Waking up that morning felt groggy and still slightly heavy from the night before. So much had been shared between the two of us, not all of it in words but in that odd understanding we had established between one another. Part of me felt lighter for it, while the other felt consumed with dread at knowing that at any moment it could change everything between us. Jake’s weight was pressed into me, basically pinning me to the bed, and somewhere in the apartment, Hemingway was wailing for his food.
“Feedthecat,” I grumbled into his chest.
He grumbled, “Youfeedthedamncat.”
“He’syourcat.”
“Istolehimremember?”
Finally, I slapped his arm. “Fiiinnneee, move so I can feed him.”
Jake rolled off me, curling himself back up in the bed without a fight. I found the cat food quickly and lazily scooped it into his bowl, plopping it down on the ground in front of him and finally silencing his wails. The second he began eating, I stumbled back into the bed, flopping down on Jake’s back.
“What time is it?” He eventually asked, likely because the sun had begun to slip in through his curtains and shine right in his eyes.
I turned my head and glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “Almost ten.”
He groaned. “Breakfast?”
“Cooking or going out?” I asked, still half asleep.
“Either.”
Sitting up, I stretched out and walked to his fridge. “Holy shit, did you actually go shopping?”
Jake stretched too, and I didn’t even try to hide the way I admired every second of his muscles. “Well, I kind of had to. If you’re gonna be staying the night every so often, I’m gonna need to have the essentials to keep you from finding another dickhead bartender to shack up with.”
“So thoughtful,” I jokingly mused. “You gonna cook for me too?”
He stood up and slowly made his way to my side, pulling me in close and pressing a kiss to my lips. “How about we both cook?”
“You’ll still owe me two breakfasts.”
Rolling his eyes, he nodded. “I’m aware.”
“Alright then, what are we making?”
I was slightly surprised by just how well Jake and I moved in the kitchen together. We didn’t clash or disagree. We just shared the space in a way that was entirely foreign to me. Even with my brothers, we fought over space and spices, and almost every time we all cooked together, someone was upset with how it tasted.
With Jake, it felt easy. He’d hand me something before I could even ask for it. I’d clean up something before he’d even ask me to. It was the perfect push and pull. A state of total balance that I found myself actually enjoying.
After breakfast, we just curled up on the couch and watched old movies together like it was the most normal thing in the world. Jake, Hemingway, and I. An unlikely trio, napping together on an unlikely gifted couch. It was perfect.
“About last night,” Jake began softly. “I’m sorry for being such a dick.”
“You weren’t a dick,” I reassured him. “And you don’t need to apologize.”
He cleared his throat. “Simone’s fine, by the way. She texted me before we woke up, gushing about her date.”
I chuckled. “Well, she won’t be gushing for long if they keep seeing each other. Claude’s not good at keeping up good behavior.”
Jake laughed a little too, his arms wrapping around me just a bit tighter. “Thanks. For not leaving me alone.”
“Thanks,” I responded. “For not throwing me out on my ass.”
“I could never,” he replied. “Your ass is way too nice for that.”
When the day had rolled by, Jake and I finally managed to drag ourselves out of his apartment and to the Chinese place beneath his for a late lunch. My phone rang halfway through our meal. “Patrick,” I answered Jake’s unspoken question.
He hummed, still shoveling rice into his mouth. “If he mentions me missing training, blame it on the cat.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure thing.”
Patrick spoke before I could even say hello. “Oi, where the hell did you put the ice skates?”
“Storage shed, first box on the left. It should be on the top,” I happily replied, suddenly filled with a rush of excitement. “We doing that today?”
“Hell yeah, we are,” Patrick practically shouted with a laugh. “Bring your boyfriend too. I wanna watch him fall on his ass!”
I faked a laugh, but I also wanted to see Jake in ice skates. “You’re hilarious.”
“I know.”
“See you there.”
He grunted over the line, likely pulling the storage shed door open. “Don’t be late or Nana will have my head!”
Jake swallowed his food and nodded towards me. “What’s goin on?”
I leaned forward with a dumb, wide grin. “Do you have ice skates?”
His face scrunched up. “No. Why the fuck would I have ice skates?”
“Oh, this is gonna be fantastic,” I replied quickly, leaving money at our table and grabbing his hand. “Come on, we’ve got some shopping to do.”
“What does that mean?” He grabbed another piece of bacon off his plate and followed after me.
“We Harrows have many family traditions,” I started. “One of which is going ice skating every year sometime before Christmas.”
“Ice skating?”
“Yeah, you ever done it?”
“No,” Jake scoffed.
I bumped him with my elbow. “Too childish for you?”
He bumped me back. “Something like that.”
“Well, you don’t have to come.” Shrugging my shoulders, I glanced up at him. “But, it might be kind of fun.”
“For you guys, I’m sure,” he laughed. “Watching me fall on my ass a bunch of times is right up your alley.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be there the whole time to show you the ropes.” I winked. “If you think you can handle that.”
“I can handle anything you Harrows throw at me,” Jake assured. “So, what do we need?”
As we hurried through the rest of the afternoon, running store to store to get Jake the equipment he’d need, I couldn’t help but admire him. Even though it was something totally new to him, he didn’t seem nervous or apprehensive. Jake ran headfirst into whatever unknown I presented him. Maybe he trusted me, or maybe I was just one of the few people he allowed himself to be a little bit childish with.
Either way, I liked it. I liked seeing him smile that big, big smile that he hardly ever let himself keep for long. I liked hearing him laugh, loud and deep and full. I liked watching him fumble a little to the point where he’d get that determined look in his beautiful eyes.
I like you, I thought, watching him try on another pair of skates. I like you more than I should and yet… He glanced up at me with that smile and that laugh, and it felt like my heart skipped a beat. Like isn’t a strong enough word for this.
The sun had begun to set when we finally finished and grabbed a cab to the rink my family always rented out for the night. Jake was a ball of energy, asking question after question about what he should expect from his first time ice skating. When we pulled up, Quinn and Ari were the first to greet us. Quinn grinned from ear to ear as she gave Jake a one-armed hug. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist!”
“Resist?” He questioned, glancing over at me. “You expect me to resist that face?”
I batted my lashes and leaned on his shoulder. “I’m adorable, I know.”
Ari took hold of Quinn’s hand as we made our way inside. “You’re all so adorable.”
“So are you,” Quinn replied with a kiss.
Jake quickly asked, “Who exactly thought I wasn’t gonna show?”
Patrick saw him instantly, standing up tall and cheering. “Little brother, you made it!” He turned and nudged Peter. “Told ya.”
“Peter,” Jake deadpanned. “I thought we were cool.”
“Sorry, man, I just didn’t think you’d wanna risk lookin’ like a dumbass in front of my sister.”
With a nod, Jake waved him off. “Not a problem.”
“Yeah, he looks like a dumbass the majority of the time,” I said, quickly accepting my bag of gear from Pat.
“Ouch,” he replied. “You’re supposed to be on my side, princess.”
I smirked. “Oh? Sorry, sweetie.” Turning to my brother, I shrugged. “Fuck off, Pete.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You two are cute.”
“Yeah, disgustingly adorable,” Quinn shouted from the top of the stand.
Standing up, I stretched my arms out, “Is this not what you wanted? Are you not entertained?!”
“Relax, Maximus,” Ozzy said as he came in through the door with Nana and Abdul close behind him. He glanced at Jake, eyes widening slightly as he did a double-take. “Oh, you came?”
Pat pointed at him. “You owe me twenty!”
Jake scoffed. “Even you?”
“Sorry, dear boy,” Oz offered, giving him a pat on the back. “Just didn’t think you’d be interested.”
Once I was absolutely ready, it felt like I was buzzing. Jake had insisted on trying to lace his skates on his own, an admirable idea that was proving just a bit too hard for him, not that he’d admit it. I swayed side to side, anxiously waiting and suppressing the urge to just take over and toss him into the rink. After a minute or two, Peter just waved me out towards the ice. “Go ahead and get it warmed up for us, sis.”
From his spot on the ground, helping Katie with her skates, Patrick nodded. “I’ll help Jake get geared up.”
“Thanks,” I answered, giving Jake a thumbs up. “They’ll take good care of you for a minute. Then you’re all mine, newbie.”
He rolled his eyes. “Why am I starting to feel like I’m gonna regret this?”
“You won’t!” I swore. “You might be bruised and sore as all hell tomorrow, but you won’t regret it!”
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, princess.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and made my way down the stairs and to the edge of the rink. The ice stretched endlessly out in front of me, and the second my skates hit the smooth, chilled surface, I was back there with my mother’s hand in mine.
“Please, Jules?” I’d begged, holding the larger man’s hands in mine. “Please just this once!”
He stared at me for a minute, face blank as it often was, before he sighed and relented. “Fine. Just this once, and I’m staying the whole time. The second I say go, we go. No arguments.”
I nodded fiercely. “I promise!”
“Go, get ready. And make sure the housekeeper knows the rules.”
Wrapping my arms around him, I smiled for the first time in months. “Thank you.”
He awkwardly patted my back. “Sure thing, kiddo.”
I gave Rada a thumbs up, and she practically squealed with delight. “Go, get ready! Quick before he changes his mind!”
Jules drove us to the furthest rink he could find and booked a private session. It wasn’t fancy or lavish like anything Tony would have set up, but that just made me feel better… safe. Rada helped me with my skates and took hold of my hand as we stepped out onto the ice.
It was cold, I could feel it even with all the layers I wore. Stepping onto the ice felt like stepping out into the air. The blade of the skates caught and wobbled awkwardly as I tried to follow Rada’s movements. Eventually, the older woman slid out in front of me and took hold of my arms. “Hold on, Lyubov.”
We twisted and twirled, dancing across the ice together in a way that reminded me of dancing with Francois. The reminder felt like a punch to the gut, but before it could consume me, Rada laughed, throwing her head back as she pulled me across the ice. I watched her feet move, gliding along the ice like it was nothing. “Where did you learn to do this?”
“I am Russian, my dear Lena,” she replied. “I was born on the ice!”
I couldn’t help but laugh, smile, and enjoy myself when Rada twirled me around. I wouldn’t last forever, but it could last long enough for now. So, despite the feeling of Jule’s eyes boring into the back of my head, despite the knowledge that I would return to that penthouse, I let myself be happy.
The blade of my skates cut through the ice like it was water as I put one foot in front of the other, gliding and twisting like leaves in the wind. I felt it all just melt away, all that was left of the bad memories part of me still clung to, even after letting the time pass. Out on the ice, I felt free.
*
He couldn’t take his eyes off her, which he knew wasn’t really all that surprising, but the second her feet hit the ice, she became… something else. The tension in her body slipped away with every twist and turn and delicate shuffle of her feet. Her body contorted in ways he’d previously thought impossible. Lena looked like a vision - more than a vision, she looked heavenly.
Watching her glide across the ice like she was weightless somehow made him feel lighter just by being there. Simone’s words still hung over him. The fear that she’d actually go through with it this time and cut him out of her life entirely still made him feel heavy. But, here, now, in that singular moment, it was just her, Lena, on the ice. If she can be weightless after everything she’s been through, then so can I.
Patrick helped him with his skates, giving him some version of advice that absolutely didn’t stick in Jake’s head as he, and everyone else, was enraptured by Lena’s movements. With a pat to his knee, Patrick stood and settled into the seat beside him. “You’re all set to get out there and tear it up, little brother.”
“How long have you guys been doing this?” He asked without thinking.
“Since she got back.”
“That’s not as long as I would have thought.” She looks like she’s been doing this her whole life.
“Yeah, well, we had to figure out something to do with her around the holidays. She was… It was hard, at first. She’d lock herself in her room most days and either blow up or burst into tears at any given moment. So, one night, the old man came home and told us we were going ice skating. She was good at it, like annoyingly good, never learned where she learned how to do it, but once she got out there on the ice, she was different.” Patrick smiled, eyes tracing Lena’s every move with a mixture of awe and joy, making him look lighter than he had in weeks. “She was my little sister again, you know?”
He watched her again, instantly clocking the difference in her. She seemed so happy… maybe happier than Jake had ever even seen her. “I get it.”
“Word of warning,” Patrick continued. “She’s gonna be so good at this, and you are not. And the worst part is, she’s gonna be so happy you won’t even be able to be mad at her for it.”
“That sounds about right,” he sighed, forcing himself onto his feet even though he wobbled. “Try not to make too much fun of me when I faceplant two seconds into this.”
“No promises, little brother.”
“Figures.”
Jake made his way to the edge of the rink, staring down at the ice like it was some trick. Lena’s feet slid into view as she stopped herself in front of him. “You ready, tough guy?”
He shook his head, trying not to get lost in the way her eyes sparkled. “Am I about to make a total ass of myself?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she teased, taking hold of his hands and pulling him forward. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”
The second his skates hit the ice, he felt like he was falling. His body slid backwards while his feet slid forwards, and if it weren’t for Lena holding onto him, Jake was certain he’d have eaten shit. Her grip tightened, and that melodious laugh bubbled up out of her throat. She sounded so damn happy he couldn’t bring himself to even glare at her. Pat was right, that is annoying.
Lena’s legs curved and twisted, and Jake tried his best to follow her movements until he eventually got somewhat of a hang of it. With a wide smile, Lena slowly let go of his hands and let him skate on his own. He kept putting one foot in front of the other, shakily propelling himself forward. “This isn’t so bad.”
“Well, you look fantastic,” she praised, maybe teased, but he’d take it.
His speed steadily built until Lena was fully skating backwards in front of him. “How do I slow down?”
Before she could answer, the tip of his blade caught on the ice, and Jake flew forward into the cold, rock-solid ground. Lena was beside him in seconds, stifling her laughter and making sure he wasn’t dead or concussed. Her red hair draped around them as she smiled down at him. “Well, that’s one way.”
“Ow.” From almost every angle, Jake could hear the laughter and cheers of the Harrow gang, both making fun of his misfortune and asking if he was dead. He lifted his arm and gave them all the middle finger. “Everyone but Nana and Pop Pop can fuck off!”
“He’s fine,” Quinn whined. “I was hoping the fall would fix your shitty attitude!”
“Language!” Nana quickly scolded.
Lena laughed again and helped him sit up. “You wanna go sit down?”
Jake scoffed and tilted his head. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m just getting started.”
He could tell his response was exactly what she wanted to hear by the way her smile grew. She stood up straight and offered him her hand. “Well, come on then, let’s not keep your adoring fans waiting.”
*
We spent almost two hours skating, and by the end of it, Jake could actually move without falling on his ass or ramming into the sides of the rink. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed as loudly as I did trying to coach him. It felt normal, in the best way, like he’d always been a part of ice skating with us. Like he fit perfectly into my life without even trying.
Nana led the charge from there, putting on her bossy face and marching everyone towards the giant tree that New York City was famous for during the holidays. Most natives would rather do anything but attempt to get pictures around the damn thing in the midst of the holiday rush, but to Nana, it was all part of the tradition.
“Why do we have to do it at this specific tree?” Jake asked her from our place in the middle. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just put a tree up in the diner and take it there?”
“Easier does not mean better,” Nana reminded before she jumped into the story my family had heard every year. “When Abdul and I came to America, we had nothing to our names but the clothes on our backs and one very old camera. We built our life slowly, through hardships and obstacles, and great blessings. And, our first Christmas here, Abdul and I got lost in this city, among all the lights and the people. We found this tree and took our very first picture in America. From that day forward, we always come back and take a picture. Our family has grown over the years,” She smiled back at us. “But no matter what we always come and take pictures together.”
For a minute, Jake seemed uncomfortable, or sad maybe. His smile faltered, and an old, painful look made him look older than he was. I reached over and took his hand in mine, cautiously assuring him, “You okay?”
He nodded, clearing his throat and pushing whatever it was that bothered him to the side. His hand squeezed mine back. “Yeah, I’m alright. It’s a nice tradition.”
We stopped walking once the tree came into view. Nana gave Abdul a kiss and quickly started giving orders, “Abdul, clear a path! Ozzy, get the children camera-ready. Every couple gets a picture, and then we’ll get one all together. It is busy, and the tourists are rude, so we must move quickly!”
“What if someone tries to cut in front of us?” Quinn asked, like she had every year, just to hear Nana’s reply.
Nana sighed and shook her head. “Just this once, I give you all permission to shove.”
“Hell yeah!” She cheered, bumping into Jake. “That’s my favorite part.”
Ozzy fussed over everyone, carefully fixing people’s hair and covering up any bruises they might’ve gotten from ice skating. He was the order in the chaos. Every prompt Nana gave out, Ozzy and Abdul were the ones to carry them out.
Peter and Isaac were first. They were modest about it, holding their united hands tightly between their bodies. To anyone else, they would’ve just looked like two friends standing close together.
Quinn and Ari were next, adopting Peter and Isaac’s tactics to look as normal as possible just in case the crowd still raging around us wouldn’t notice. After a cute picture, Quinn begged and pleaded until Nana cracked and let them pose in a silly manner.
Patrick and Katie went after them. Pat wrapped her up in his arms and dipped her into a deep kiss. They were both smiling like idiots afterwards, trying to ignore the way we all whooped and hollered.
Nana waved at Jake and me. “Go on, you two. You’re next.”
“Oh, Nan, I don’t know if that’s…”
“I wasn’t really prepared for pictures…”
Jake and I glanced at each other after both of our protests started and ended at the same time. The old woman’s face fell, a horrible sight that made us both feel like shit in seconds. “You two are not taking a picture together?”
Scratching the back of his head, Jake awkwardly shrugged, clearly not sure what to do. “I dunno.”
“You don’t have to,” I told him, quickly. “It’s not like a big deal or anything, and we’re… new. I always just take one by myself.”
Quinn scoffed. “Not always. You and Sammy got a real good picture together when you two were messing around.”
I sent her a glare before turning to reassure Jake that it wasn’t a big deal and that Quinn was just a bitch, but his hand wrapped around mine before I could. “What-”
“We’re taking a picture,” he replied, gently pulling me towards the tree.
Nana practically cheered as she lifted her camera and urged Abdul to begin his shouting at the tourists who were getting too close. I stood stiffly next to Jake, my mind still reeling from the fact that I hadn’t planned this. My face felt hot, and I was sure it was just as red. Hopefully, I can just blame it on the cold.
As Nana messed with her camera, I shuffled a little closer to Jake and whispered, “You really don’t have to take one, if you don’t want to, you know?”
He looked down at me and smiled. “I know. I… I do want to.”
I smiled too, getting lost in the peaceful expression on his face and the way it felt… right, standing next to him. I didn’t even register the click of the camera’s shutter, nor the blinding flash that indicated Nana had taken her photo. All I cared about was Jake here, with me.
With a chorus of aws, Nana quickly shooed us out of the way and shoved Ozzy up to the front. Peter tapped my shoulder, quickly pulling me out of my daze, and he, Patrick, and I rushed up to join Oz for his picture. Quinn made quick work of making fun of Jake while I was gone.
“Quickly,” Nana urged once the picture was secured. She set up her very old, very unstable tripod and positioned the camera as all of us gathered around.
Jake stood awkwardly by the camera, staring at all of us with a confused look on his face. I nodded him over. "You coming?"
He hesitated and I could have sworn I saw tears building in his eyes. "I..."
Nana vigorously waved him forward. "Jake! Quickly, my habibi!"
With an unsteady breath, he quickly stepped forward, finding a spot beside me at the edge of the group. We shoved together, all of us around Nana and Abdul, and smiled as the timer went down. Jake squeezed my hand as the camera flashed, and Nana was back to shooing.
She fixed some settings and handed the camera to Ozzy. “Do not mess it up, Oswald!”
“I wouldn’t dare!” He replied, taking his place in front of them.
Nana and Abdul went last. They always did. They held each other close, smiling as brightly as the lights on the tree behind them. I settled back into my spot beside Jake, our hands still entwined. As they took their picture, my silly brain couldn’t help but think something completely and utterly damning. Maybe that’s what Jake and I will look like eventually.
Long after pictures had been taken and our group started heading back to the diner, Jake’s hand stayed in mine, and neither of our smiles ever faded.
TW: As always: the tw does contain spoilers! This fic has language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, sex, nudity, general mentions of violence, past abuse, and soooo on. Okay y'all we've got a lot to get into for this chapter. It's longer (like the good old days xD) so buckle up! We have lots of trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms coming in. Some good old-fashioned lashing out, crash outs, and some family bonding to hold us together. Lena is going through it, and Jake is starting to really feel some salt in some old wounds he thought he'd forgotten about. We've got some heavy talks. Tess makes an appearance! We've got some good old alleyway smut, things kind of starting to get back to normal. And, because it's me, one last cliffhanger! It absolutely will not be the last!
Enjoy! ❤️
Soft sobs echoed down the stairs as Jake quietly made his way up the steps. Each board quietly creaked beneath his small feet. He’d yet to memorize the pattern of them, which ones were pliant and which were steady. The long hallway was dark, all light having long faded as the sun had gone down. Jake was still a little scared of the dark here. It was new… or new enough, he guessed. At the top, he hesitated, looking out into that darkness with wide, fearful eyes.
“Be brave,” he told himself. “She needs you to be brave.”
He closed his eyes and breathed for a moment before continuing forward toward the sound. Her bedroom door was cracked open, the sliver of light from her lamp illuminated her in a halo of warm light as she sat on the edge of her bed and wept. She looked beautiful and sad, just like his mom had on those long stormy nights.
Simone was strong and brave and selfless. Ever since he’d met her, Jake looked at her like she was the sun. Everything in her orbit thrived, safe and warm and loved. Oh, how he wanted to be in that orbit, to feel loved and safe and needed. Even sad, Simone radiated that light he chased.
With a gentle push, he let the door squeak a little, drawing her gaze to him. “Simone?”
“Jake,” she breathed, sniffling and wiping her eyes. “Did you have a bad dream?”
He nodded. Even if it was a lie, it seemed like a good one in this instance. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head and waved him to her side. “Don’t worry about me. Come on.”
The blankets were soft as he rolled himself inside them just to hear her laugh. “Thank you.”
With a gentle touch, she wiped the hair out of his eyes. “Were you on the couch again?”
“Yeah.”
“You have a bed, you know,” she scolded lightly. “And a room all to yourself.”
“It still feels… different.”
She pursed her lips and nodded, quietly rubbing his arms. “I suppose I understand. Still, you should really try to sleep in there. It won’t start feeling normal unless you make it normal.”
“I know,” he whispered. “Why… why were you crying?”
“Jake,” she sighed.
“Was your dad mean to you again?”
She laughed joylessly and rolled her eyes. “When isn’t he?”
Jake thought for a long moment. “Maybe he wasn’t trying to be mean. Maybe he was just worried about you and wanted to prot-”
“Ugh,” she groaned, angrily shoving herself - or him - away. “Why do you always do that?”
“What?” he mumbled, fear making him freeze within her covers. What did I say wrong this time? He wondered.
“You always have to defend him, instead of me. Am I not important enough for you to take my side once in a while?” She demanded, coldly. Jake opened his mouth to reply - to dissuade the allegations she so cruelly spewed at him, but Simone continued, nonetheless. “Nothing is sacred to you! Nothing is ever enough for you to see me and trust me and love me!”
“I do see you.” He hurried in his reply. “I wasn’t defending him, I was just'-”
“Just taking his side, like always. God, you’re just like him.”
Don’t say that, he thought, fighting back tears.
“Selfish, rude, dismissive… entirely useless when I actually need your help.”
He sniffled, a few tears sliding past his guard. “I’m sorry.”
Simone’s face softened only slightly as she sighed and stroked his cheeks free of tears. “Don’t be sorry, Jake. Be better.”
With a nod, he swore to her and himself, “I will be.”
“Good.” She smiled. “Now, climb in, and I’ll read you a bit of my book before you go to your room.”
“Thanks.” He climbed into her bed, settling into her arms and soaking up as much of that warmth as he could before the moment came when she’d inevitably cast him from her bed and back out into the dark.
“Breathe, habibi. I have you.”
His feet felt like they were coated in concrete as he stood helplessly by the door and watched Lena sob into Nana’s shoulder. All night, Lena had done her damndest to look determined and strong, and for the most part, she did. She almost always did in Jake’s eyes. Now, however, she looked so small. Now, it was like he was seeing that thirteen-year-old girl that she’d kept buried.
The pain was so visceral, he’d wondered how she’d ever managed to hide it at all. Is this how she always feels? He wondered, still unable to tear his eyes from her shaking form. That thought alone made him feel an undeniable surge of rage and guilt that almost made him want to throw up. Useless. You’re fucking useless even now. Especially now.
It took every ounce of his control not to march out the door, Dom’s order damned. One look at Patrick and Peter told him they felt the same. Both brothers stood with their backs to the counter, Abdul firmly planted in front of them, both giving some speech he couldn’t hear. But, by the looks on their faces, it was something they’d heard before.
Jake wasn’t used to this feeling. He’d made it a point not to get close enough to anyone but Simone, so he wouldn’t have to feel twice as useless as he usually did. He hadn’t expected this - any of it. It was real in that horrifying way that made him want to run as far away as he could get. If it had been anyone else, he probably would have already been gone. It wasn’t just anyone, though. It was her. His Lena.
So, no matter how horrible he felt just standing there like some useless dumbass, Jake’s feet were planted. Nothing was going to pull him away from her side. Not even the phone that had begun buzzing in his pocket.
*
Not even Nana’s steady arms wrapped around me could pull me from the torrent of memories. It felt like it was all flashing right before my eyes - like I was living it all over again and nothing could stop it. All I could do was sob and brokenly hold onto her.
I just want it to be over, I thought, only half listening to her prayer. I just want it to end.
The bells chimed, and Dom’s familiarly heavy footsteps echoed across the floor. I could hear him talking to my brothers, to Jake, but their words were muffled and muddled in an incoherent slew. As their noise faded, and his steps began to approach, Nana’s arms tightened around me. “Is it safe, Dominic?”
“Yeah,” he answered quietly. Safe. Even the word felt like a trap, but it still made me stop sobbing.
Nana kissed my head and gently pulled my face up to meet hers. Gentle hands wiped the tears from my eyes as she smiled. “You are safe, habibi.”
Dom’s hand landed on my shoulder. “He’s not here.”
“Not anymore,” I mumbled. “But he was.”
“Can I talk to her, Nan?” he asked.
The old woman glanced at him and then back at me, hesitating to let go until I gave her that nod. I took a few deep breaths, trying to clear my head and put that strong, fearless mask back on. “I’m okay.”
“Habibi,” she whispered, pressing her head to mine and uttering one more prayer before she finally stood and let Dom take her seat.
He took a single glance at me and then lifted his eyes to the room of people. “Give us a minute.”
Before the protesting could begin, I raised my hand and looked back at my brothers and Jake. “I’m fine. Really. I just… I need to talk to Dom.”
I tried not to let the hurt in their eyes sit with me too long, but Jake’s… it settled quicker than it should have. Guilt and insecurity after insecurity bubbled up beneath my skin the longer I looked at his sad, concerned, beautiful face. Nana and Abdul were the first to move, gently pulling Peter into agreement. Patrick eventually swallowed the anger that was so clear on his face and bumped Jake’s shoulder. “Let’s go, little brother.”
Jake paused a second longer, those ocean eyes I knew so well, swimming with everything I never wanted to see in them. Here it comes, I told myself. He starts hating you tonight. “I’ll be right outside,” he said, as though he’d read my mind and needed me to hear him.
The bells chimed again, and silence smothered everything else. Dom waited until they’d stopped entirely before he spoke. “Do you want to know what he left?”
“No,” I answered, instantly, shaking my head. “I just want it gone.”
“Done.” He sighed, slowly reaching out to take my hand. “There were no other signs of him. He’s not lurking in some corner.”
“Ozzy, Quinn, Prue… everyone at the party…” I mumbled. “I need to make sure they’re safe.”
“Already done.” Dom lowered his head, meeting my frantic gaze. “Breathe. Everyone’s safe.”
I wiped away another tear. “We need to check the gym.”
“Lena,” he whispered, taking hold of my face. “I already did it. Everything has been taken care of. Everything is safe.”
A ragged breath stuttered from my lips as I whimpered, “He was in my apartment.”
Dom’s jaw locked. “I know. I… I’m sorry I didn’t see it coming.”
I didn’t see it coming either. It all felt so fucking helpless. Each year, it was the same song and dance, and yet I could never predict what he’d do. My shoulders slacked, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself be absolutely honest. “I’m tired, Dom. I’m so fucking tired.”
He pulled me into his arms. “I know, kid. I know.”
Ever since that night in the snow, I’d been surviving by the scrape of my teeth and bruises on my knuckles. Every year, every new fucked up way Tony could think to fuck with me, I’d kept clinging to the life I’d fought for. When my dad was alive, it felt easier. It was like he and I were holding the same boulder up, keeping it from crushing everyone else, and now that he wasn’t, I felt the full weight of it all on my shoulders.
After his passing, I’d forged myself invisible armor, hellbent on fulfilling that silent promise we’d made to each other. Be strong. Be fearless. No matter what happens, take care of them. At first, it had been easy - easier at least - but as the years rolled by and Tony’s cruelty got worse and worse, I could feel myself sinking further and further until it felt like there was no armor at all.
“Sink or swim.”
“Whoever they are, wherever they are, if I want them dead, then they die. You’d do well to remember that.
“I hope you know what you’re getting them into.”
“Just breathe, Lena,” Dom urged.
I squeezed my eyes shut, counting each breath and trying to listen to Dom’s voice. Without opening my eyes, for fear of letting loose more tears, I whispered, “I don’t ever want to go back there again.”
Dom sighed. “I’ll have my boys pack it all up and bring it to the gym.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for this, kid. It never shoulda happened.” Before I could argue back or make an excuse, Dom stood. “Let’s get you home, okay?”
I didn’t have it in me to answer. All I could do was force my body to move, holding Dom’s hand in mine as we stepped out into the cold night. The walk to the gym was silent, save for the howling of the wind, and I was grateful for it.
Talking meant questions. Questions meant answers. And answers meant more memories dug to the surface. None of which I wanted to deal with tonight.
Almost every single biker in Dom’s crew was standing outside the gym. The ones missing were, I could only assume, out watching everyone else. Once we reached the door, he squeezed my hand and smiled down at me. “You good from here?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “I’ll… I’ll figure it out.”
“Good. I’ll get to work then.”
“Thank you, Dom.”
He pressed his thumb to my forehead, and I wished the simple act would calm that rage of thoughts and old voices inside it. “Try to get some sleep.”
I weakly smiled. “Yeah, you too.”
My brothers had taken Jake upstairs by the time I stepped inside. Part of me wanted nothing more than to follow them and curl into his warm embrace, but how could I? How could I force him to comfort me without offering any sort of answer as to why I even needed it?
Everyone else had some of the story, varying degrees of it anyway, but they all knew what it was I tried to forget. Jake was new. Too new to dump all of my trauma onto. And maybe too new for me to risk losing.
Old, ugly words curled up inside my chest. “After all you’ve done, baby girl, I’m the only one that will ever understand.”
Swallowing the bitter burn of rage, I turned away from the stairs and turned toward the ring. I dragged an old dummy into the center with me and started punching. My fists ached as the bare skin of my knuckles met the rough material of the dummy. Yet, despite the pain, a sense of relief came with each hit.
*
It was a little awkward, sitting at the Harrow table in the dead of night, listening to the faint sounds of punching going on downstairs. Peter looked exhausted, eyes staring at the door standing between him and his sister. Patrick looked worse, pacing and doing random tasks to keep his hands busy. It reminded him too much of that night and the lie he’d been holding in every moment since.
He watched the hands on the clock move, expecting that when they hit a certain point, the punches would stop and she’d make her way upstairs. Then, at least, he could hug her - hold her - and do whatever it was he could to make sure she felt safe. But the hands just kept moving, and the punches showed no signs of stopping.
A loud clatter and a scream echoed up the stairs. Jake stood and moved before he could even think about it. It didn’t matter what danger he’d be faced with; the only thing he knew was that scream was hers. She needed him. I have to be brave, that small voice said deep inside him. She needs me. He only made it a few steps down before Patrick’s hand curled around his arm and pulled him back. “You gotta leave it.”
Her screams were laced with sobs that made his body burn. She needs me. He could feel the wetness of his tears begin to slide down his cheeks, but he was powerless to stop it.“I… I can’t.”
“Come on, little brother,” Pat urged, carefully leading him back into the apartment. “You gotta let her have this.”
Though he hated to admit it, and he’d deny it tooth and nail later, crying - even if it was only a few tears - actually made him feel better. Neither Peter nor Patrick said anything about it. Hell, they’d even comforted him. Jake was just glad it’d been them. At least he knew they understood.
Hours passed before the sounds finally stopped. Peter lifted his head from the table and listened carefully. “You think she’s out yet?”
Patrick shrugged. “It’s been bout ten minutes.”
“Alright, let’s go.”
The gym looked rough, like a tornado had swept through it. Sandbags had been knocked over, gloves and wrappings strewn about, and dummies dragged from their usual locations. Jake didn’t care about any of that, though, as he stepped over the mess and rushed to the side of the ring where the shape of Lena was curled up in the center of the mat.
He’d almost called out to her, stopped only by the sight of her back rising and falling with each breath she took. The brothers cleaned the place up as quietly as they could until it was like none of it had even happened. Jake couldn’t bring himself to help them. He couldn’t bring himself to even look away from her until Patrick nudged him. “Scoot for a second.”
All he could manage was a step back, allowing Patrick to slide into his place and toss half of an old quilt into the ring. Peter appeared on the other side, slowly sliding half his body into the ring to grab the other corner and pull it over Lena’s body. She’d moved slightly, but didn’t wake up.
“Well,” Peter sighed, joining him and Patrick on the other side of the ring for a moment, giving Jake a tiny bump on the shoulder as he passed. “You survived your first crashout.”
Patrick slapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the crew, little brother.”
“I’ve been here for months,” he argued, albeit half-heartedly - exhaustedly.
“Yeah, but this was your first time seein’ her this low.” First time. God, how many times was this going to happen? He’d be there for each one, but… part of him worried just how much he’d be able to take before he, too, began to crack. “And you did surprisingly well.”
Peter nodded as he pulled a pile of spare blankets and pillows out of one of the cupboards in the back room of the gym. “I was expecting you to fuck up.”
He scoffed, catching one of the tossed pillows. “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Nothing personal,” the elder brother assured with a sad smile. “We all fucked up a bit in the beginning.”
“Think of it like a rite of passage,” Pat encouraged. “You fuck up and boom, you’re in with the gang.”
“Does my pending membership have any perks?” Jake followed their lead, picking a comfortable adjacent corner of the gym to set up his pillow and blanket.
Both brothers turned and glanced at Lena, still asleep on the mat. “Just one.”
Jake watched her for a long moment, watching her restlessly twitch and toss and turn. All he wanted to do was climb up, pull her in close, and protect her from whatever danger came their way. Deep down, he doubted he could protect her, not from the horrors lodged in her mind so deeply they haunted her even in sleep. He’d still try, though. He had to.
For Lena, he’d do whatever he could. Fuck up or not. He was hers, and he’d be damned if he didn’t act like it.
After what felt like forever, Jake finally closed his eyes. He listened to the sound of her breathing, silently reminding himself that she was there… safe… alive. He didn’t sleep well, but all things considered, he’d had worse.
The next morning, he woke to a gentle boot to the shoulder. With sleep still clinging to his vision, he glared up at the biker now staring down at him. Upon seeing Dom again, he sat up and rubbed the crust from his eyes, quickly asking, “What’s goin’ on?”
Dom scoffed. “Relax, tough guy. I’m just here to relieve you of babysitting duty.”
“What?”
“You should go home.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed as he stared back. Go home? Like leave? “Why the fuck would I do that?”
Dom smiled, only a little, as though the answer impressed him. “Take a shower and do whatever else you gotta to process the shit that just went down.”
The reminder of it all suddenly made Jake’s gaze shift to the mat, where Lena was still curled up beneath the covers. He breathed out a relieved sigh and shook his head. “I’m fine.”
With that, Dom knelt in front of him, a serious look in his eyes. “No, you aren’t, and that’s okay.” After a long moment, he stood again and turned toward the stairs. “Take some time, Jake. You need it.”
Jake didn’t know how long he sat on the floor of the gym that morning, just watching the rise and fall of Lena’s chest, but it was apparently long enough. Peter and Patrick moved around the space as quietly as they could, acting as though this was simply business as usual. Fuck, maybe it is.
He’d gotten the speech the day before. He’d been filled in on the do’s and the don’ts and what to do if things did go wrong, so clearly there was some semblance of “normal” in the routine he was now witnessing. The reality, however, only made him angrier. This shouldn’t be normal, he thought bitterly. This is fucking insane. It shouldn’t even be happening. Jake watched Lena for a minute more before he finally stood up and stretched out the tight muscles that now ached from sleeping on the floor.
After he felt like he could actually move again, he picked up his pillow and blanket, returning them to the cupboard Peter had pulled them out of last night, and took watch. He leaned back against the front desk of the gym, eyes fixed on Lena for a minute before they turned and scanned the street outside.
The brothers left him be for a few minutes, but eventually they migrated over. “Can’t stand there all day, little brother.”
“I’m just waiting,” he answered.
“For?”
For her to wake up, he thought. For that son of a bitch to walk through the door.
Patrick looked like he understood without Jake having to actually say any of it. “I get it. I do, but life’s gonna keep moving, and you need to move with it.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means…” He shook his head and shrugged. “It means you can’t get stuck in this moment, this fear. Shit’s gonna happen, and you’re gonna have to learn to roll with the punches.”
Jake looked over at the ring, at Lena still passed out inside it. “You tell her that?”
He scoffed. “Who do you think the speech was originally for? Our old man was damn good with words, and those are his.”
Peter leaned against the desk beside him. “We know, just as well as you do, that being here… sitting with this… It’s not your only responsibilities.”
“I’ve gotta get back and feed the damn cat,” he said eventually, quietly, eyes never leaving Lena.
Patrick gave him that signature hearty pat on the back. “Then get to it.”
“I…” he sighed, running his hands down his face. The exhaustion was hitting him harder than he thought it would. “I don’t wanna leave her.”
It was Peter’s turn to wrap an arm around his shoulder and give him a firm shake. “Go take care of what you have to. She’ll understand.”
Realistically, he knew that Lena wouldn’t hold it against him. She knew about the cat, hell, she loved the fuckin thing just as much as he did. But, after all he’d seen last night, Jake struggled with letting her out of his sight. What if something else happens when I’m gone? What if I’m not here and she runs off? His mind ran rampant with the memories of her barely treading water, that head of red vanishing beneath the waves. What if-
“Oi,” Pat said quietly, shoving Jake’s head. “Get outta there.”
“You can play what if with yourself all day, Jake,” Peter added. “It’s not gonna help.”
The big copper-haired man smiled, and for the first time in hours, it actually made Jake feel just a little bit better. “We’ve got this. It ain’t like this is our first day on the job.”
He glanced at both brothers and rubbed his eyes. “I just…”
“You just care.” Peter nodded, an appreciative look on his equally tired features. “We know. And so does she.”
With a gentle, but firm shove, Patrick corralled him to the door. “Get outta here, little brother. I’ll call you if she needs anything.”
His back pressed against the door, and his chest ached as he stared back at her. “I’ll be back.” He didn’t really know if he was saying it to her, or them, or to himself, but it was ultimately the only thing that lessened that hurt inside him and allowed him to walk out the door.
I’ll be back. The whole way home, he kept repeating it to himself. I’ll be back.
Hemingway was pissed the moment he walked through the door. Long limbs stretched out from the corner of the island and swatted angrily at his legs as he dished up his food. “Sorry, Hem. It was a longer night than I thought it’d be.”
Like a fool, he thought back on the original plan last night. Lena had been smiling - happy - after her break outside. They’d only gone to her apartment to grab her some clothes and her toothbrush before heading back to his place. He’d had it all planned out, even went shopping so he could finally make her one of the proper breakfasts he owed.
I should have just said she could wear my clothes and use my toothbrush. At least then… He shook his head. Deep down, he knew it wouldn’t have really changed anything. Sure, they’d have gotten an extra day without… this, but she would have had to go back at some point. It still would have been waiting, and god only knew what would have happened if she’d returned alone.
He set Hemingway’s bowl on the ground and watched the small cat eat for a minute before it all just boiled over. Angry tears pricked at his eyes and ran hot down his cheeks. With a frustrated cry, he threw the spoon he still held into the sink and screamed. “FUCK”
That morning, he let himself fall apart. He let himself be pissed and destroy his apartment in some tragic attempt to feel in control. He’d apologize to Hem when it was all said and done, and then he’d return to Lena’s side. Even if she just wanted him to sit in silence with her, he’d do it. He’d do anything for her.
*
I boxed for another hour after I woke up. Throwing punch after punch until my knuckles were rubbed raw and aching. All the while I watched Dom’s bikers shuffle in and out, box after box of my old apartment filtering in with them. There goes my freedom, I thought bitterly.
It’d taken me months of careful planning and an insane amount of luck to even find that apartment. My dad had been so happy that I was going to be close by, and he’d helped fix every appliance and paint every wall. So, losing it now almost felt like losing him all over again.
Eventually, I dragged myself up the stairs and stood in the shower, beneath the hot spray of water for another hour. Everything felt numb. The pain in my hands, the hoarseness of my throat, even the pit that had been lodged in my chest since last night now felt dulled.
It was typical, really, losing something that had meant more to me than I thought. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is what he does. He’ll take and take and take until I have nothing left but him.
As if on cue, a frustrated, slightly pained shout echoed through the walls as Patrick tripped on the edge of the table. My lips quirked up in an instant, a dry laugh filling the quiet. I’m not alone. I breathed, trying to will that one thought - that single reality - cancel out everything else. He can’t take them from me.
“Hey, Lee,” Patrick called. “We’re cooking breakfast, you wanna help?”
“Sure,” I answered. That was normal. That was something that would help get rid of the lingering anger.
My brothers and I worked side by side. Patrick was on bacon duty while Peter got the bread ready for toast. I was just pulling the plates out from the cupboard when a knock on the door stopped us all in our tracks.
Patrick answered, visibly relaxing once the door was open. “It’s Sam.”
I, however, didn’t relax. Sam was amazing in every sense. Honest, kind, and good. Genuinely good. So good it used to make me feel horrible about myself. The only time Sam and I ever had any problems was when Tony showed up and caused trouble. Sam, being the good, honest person he was, fought tooth and nail to have me report him to the police. He fought so hard, I actually did it once, not that it amounted to anything other than Tony’s increased rage.
Though I loved Sam, trusted him with my life, I didn’t want to argue. So, I turned away from the door - from the blonde man now stepping into our apartment. “Hey, I… I heard about what happened last night. Figured I’d come check in.”
“It’s over now,” I answered. “I’m fine.”
“That’s good,” he said quietly. “Do you need anything?”
With a shake of my head, I fought against the rising urge to yell at him. “There’s nothing else to do, Sam.”
“You can report it.”
I rolled my eyes, slamming the dishes down into the sink. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
Peter reached out, trying to soothe the anger that now boiled over. “Lena-”
“What do you expect to happen?” I demanded, turning to glare at him. “That all the corrupt cops will just magically vanish, and something resembling justice will take place?”
“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “But we can at least try.”
“I have tried. I stood in that fucking courtroom and testified against him, and where did it get me?” I practically threw my hands up at the very thought of it all. The urge to pull my hair and scream until my lungs exploded filled me with that all too familiar burn of rage. “Wake up, Sam. Your precious justice doesn’t fucking exist. Not here. Not with this.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Then you’re either fucking stupid or naive. Dealers’ choice.”
Sam hid his hurt well, though; this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo, nor the first time we’d had this particular argument. “I’m just trying to help.”
Help. The word felt like acid being thrown at me. All anyone wanted to do was help me. All they wanted was to do whatever they could, however they could, to ease the pain and the anger and the complete hopelessness that clung to me every winter. And all I could bring myself to feel was fucking anger.
I could never admit it to any of them, but their help… their constant coddling and questions just festered inside me. Eating away at all my rational thoughts and all my love for each one of them until the only thing that I could do was lash out. It always happened, even when Dad had been alive. Someone would say something, do something, so obviously catered to make me feel better that I couldn’t stop myself. Every year it hurt, and every year the only thing I could do to alleviate it was to make someone else hurt.
I hated it. I hated him. But, most of all, I hated myself… hated the monster I’d let him turn me into.
“Lena,” Sam whispered, soft and caring. “Please let me help.”
The reaction was instant, like fire meeting gasoline. All my fear and my fury exploded, twisting me and everything I felt until nothing else remained. “To hell with your help! Get out!” I screamed in his face. “Get the fuck out, Pig!”
Sam took it without flinching. He stood there and let me scream at him, shove him, and in the end, he took one look at my face and smiled. Fucking asshole! He gathered his things and never once stopped smiling at me. “I’m sorry. Just… call me if you need me, okay?”
“FUCK OFF!”
The apartment fell into a stiff silence the moment the door shut behind him. I could feel their fear in the very air I breathed. They’re terrified of me, I pitifully thought, turning my back to the door and leaning over the sink of now cracked plates. Maybe they should be.
After a long few minutes, Peter cleared his throat. “So, no cops?”
Patrick chuckled as the tension broke almost instantly. “Looks like we do it to good old fashioned way.”
“There’s nothing to do,” I insisted, not able to actually turn and face them. “Just… leave it to Dom.”
“Lee,” Peter sighed. “We’re family. We’re not just gonna roll over and let this asshole fuck with you.”
I shook my head and forced the tears in my eyes to remain. “That’s exactly what you’re gonna do. All of you. Please.”
“Oh, to hell with that! He’s gotta fuckin pay!”
“LEAVE IT!” I screamed, finally turning. “Do you hear yourselves?! What the fuck are you gonna do? Are we all just forgetting what the fuck happens every single time anyone does anything? Dad got the shit beat out of him the first time. Quinn almost got hit by a fucking car! Patrick got too close, and he almost got shot!”
“I got shot,” Patrick grumbled.
“You got grazed,” Peter hissed back.
My fingers tangled themselves in my hair, pulling as tightly as I could. “It doesn’t matter! Just… for the love of God, just leave it alone!”
Patrick was visibly angry now, arms tightly crossed over his chest and face set in a line. “If you’re so concerned, then why ain’t you stopping Dom from doin’ shit?”
“Because Dom doesn’t fucking listen.” I shook my head. “Do you actually believe that I’m not fucking terrified about what’s going to happen to him?”
His face softened. “That’s not-”
“I am fucking terrified all the time! For every fucking one of you idiots!” A sob echoed in the apartment as my composure finally wore down. “If Dom dies, then that’s on me too. And if one of you…” I practically collapsed.
My brothers were up, their arms winding around me in seconds as I sobbed into both their chests. “Okay, okay. We’ll stay out of it.”
“Yeah,” Patrick agreed. “It’s okay.”
“I… I can’t do it again…” I choked out. “I can’t lose anyone else.”
“You won’t,” Peter promised.
“We’re right here, little sis.” Patrick pressed a kiss to my head. “Always.”
After that, breakfast was simple: half-burnt bacon and toast served on paper plates. Peter had apologized a hundred times for it, but the crisp flavor actually helped lull my body back into a sense of normal. Ozzy had dropped by at the first chance he got. His guilt for leaving early had clearly been eating away at him since he’d gotten Dom’s message. He’d held me close as the bikers continued to filter through with boxes, and promised me we’d get everything figured out.
If only I’d been able to fully believe him.
*
Lena was already gone when Jake finally managed to drag himself back to the gym. Peter insisted she needed time to clear her head. Patrick said she needed space. Even Ozzy was of the mind that letting her disappear for a few hours was good. “Maybe she’ll find whatever she needs to, to help her get back up on her feet.”
Jake, however, didn’t buy any of it. She didn’t need to be alone; she needed people - her people now more than ever. Everyone else had just been too focused on trying to help her the way she wanted, or thought she wanted, to be. Damn what she wants, he’d stubbornly thought. I’m gonna be there for her whether she wants me to be or not.
Maybe it was his old insecurities finally coming back to the surface after years of being buried, or maybe he just couldn’t stand the thought of her alone. It hardly mattered. Especially if he couldn’t find her.
He walked up to the junkyard warehouse, waving at the bikers as he passed by. “Dom here?”
The large man in front of the door nodded, stepping to the side to let Jake pass. “He’s in the back.”
“Thanks.”
The space was large and practically empty save for some old parts and bikes. He could hear Dom in the very back of the room talking on the phone in another language. Once Jake got close enough for the biker to see, he quickly hung up. “Tough guy. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I’m lookin’ for Lena,” he answered.
“Yeah?” Dom’s brow quirked. “And you think that’s a good idea?”
“Don’t know, and I don’t care. I can’t just leave her to sit with this by herself.”
With a shrug, Dom considered his words for a minute. “She’s at an old warehouse in Queens. There’s a fight starting in an hour, and she wanted in.”
The realization dawned on Jake quickly. “You’ve known where she was this whole time?”
“Of course I did,” he scoffed. “You think I’m just gonna let her go without one of my guys right behind her? I’m not stupid, and I’m certainly not careless.”
“Send me the address?”
He nodded. “Hope she’s happy to see you, tough guy cause if she’s not… god help that pretty face of yours.”
“Yeah, yeah, just send it.”
Jake should have known a fight was where she’d snuck off to. Most girls would’ve gone shopping, or to a friend’s to drink cheap wine, or to some shitty movie. Lena Harrow was not like most people. She was rash and impulsive, yet calculating and careful. She was a walking contradiction. And he loved it.
He’d sped to address Dom had sent him just in time to watch her step into the makeshift ring. It was a relief to lay eyes on her again, and he could only hope she felt the same when she finally noticed him. He settled into the back of the warehouse next to her familiar bag and waited.
Watching her move in the shitty ring, dodging hits and landing even more, reminded him of the first time he’d seen her fight. Blood, sweat, and the tears of her opponents kept her standing when anyone else would have called it quits. She doesn’t give up easy, he thought with that sense of satisfied pride. Not my Lena.
As her fifth opponent hit the floor, she finally turned, tired eyes finding his through the crowd. A glimmer appeared as she realized that he was really there. And that made it all worth it to Jake. That’s right, he thought to her. I’m here, princess. I came for you.
She smiled, actually smiled at him. God, she was beautiful, even exhausted and bruised and bleeding. And Jake loved it.
*
The match had been over for a while, yet I sat in the alley outside still unable to keep my hands from shaking. My body felt exhausted. Each of my limbs was heavy and bruised from round after round of dodging and weaving and getting hit just enough times to keep the fight going. I should have felt better. At the very least, I should have felt nothing.
Guess he’s taken that from me, too.
Jake sat beside me, tending to every scrape along my knuckles and every bruise that looked just a bit too dark for his liking. He fussed in silence, though I could practically see the questions swirling around his head like a tornado. The longer his fingers gently caressed my skin, the harder it became to ignore just how safe I was beginning to feel around him.
I’d seen the buildup over our friendship; it’d been almost impossible not to. A reassuring smile that erased every horrible thought in my head. A perfectly timed joke that would snap me right out of a would-be spiral. A touch. A phrase. Even just his presence - just knowing that he was there had become enough. Everything felt different with Jake. He didn’t back down or shrink away from anything I threw at him, and that was dangerous.
How long would it be before I couldn’t stop myself from blurting out every single horrible detail to him? I could already feel the ties I’d bound the truth with beginning to loosen. I’d already told him too much completely by accident.
Jake was dangerous because every second I spent with him, the deeper my feelings grew. And if they grew too deep - if I was too selfish with him, then he’d become a target just like all the others. And that… that terrified me more than anything.
After the silence had become too much for him to continue ignoring, Jake sighed and looked at me closely. “Did that help?”
I should have lied, but, just like always, I found myself being a little too honest with him. “Not as much as it should have.”
“Maybe you should try something else then?”
“We can always go get wasted,” I offered.
He smirked. “Very true. Or… you could tell me what you’re feeling.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to hide the way I’d almost done it without question. “You’re too curious for your own good.”
“Yeah, it’s a curse,” he deadpanned back. “But, I’m serious. You said last time that telling me - talking about it helped.”
“This is different.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
“You can talk about it,” Jake eventually whispered. “Or you can let it kill you.”
“It’s already killed me,” I answered, not daring to meet his eyes. “Parts of me, anyway. Parts I’ll never get back.”
“Well, let’s not let it take anything else.”
“It’s not that simple.” I shook my head. “The second I tell you, everything changes and I… I don’t want it to.”
Jake scoffed, pulling my eyes to him. “Just a few months ago, you said you didn’t wanna sleep with me cause you’d lose me.” He stretched his arms out and grinned. “Yet, I’m still here, ain’t I?”
“That was different.”
“Hey.” His fingers curled under my chin, tilting my head back to look at him. “I’m not going anywhere. No matter what you say, no matter what happens, I’ll be right here.”
For a long minute, all I could do was watch him the way I watched everyone else. Any minute now, his face will change. The mask will fall, and I’ll see it… that disgust. Jake’s eyes glistened. The sharp colors of them filled with a hope and adoration that never vanished, no matter how long I stared.
Then, it dawned on me. I believed him, actually, truly believed him.
In another, stupid and entirely idiotic moment where he’d caught me perfectly off guard, I sighed. “The gift that got left in my apartment… It was from a guy.”
“I’m assuming that would be the psychotic ex you mentioned,” he replied calmly.
“Yeah.” I gently pulled my face out of his grasp and looked anywhere but at him. “He’s a family friend of my mom, so… we spent a lot of time together while I lived with her. His family is rich, some cigar empire or something, so he’d always shower me with expensive gifts and trips around the world. I thought…” I had to pause to breathe through the tightness in my chest. “I thought we were friends for a long time, and then he… he wanted more.”
Jake took in every word carefully. I could feel his mind working, putting pieces of that hideous puzzle together. It’s only a matter of time before he fills in the blanks. It scared me more than anything else, the moment he’d finally know. “How long were you two together?”
Together. The word made my skin crawl. “On and off for a year or two and then…” I shoved the memory of Francios back down. “Three years after that.”
“That’s a long time,” he replied. “When… How…”
I glanced back at him, taking in the way his face contorted with the effort he was making to try to ask his question delicately. “When did he go crazy?”
“Yeah.”
“I… Looking back on it, I think he was crazy the whole time, and I just didn’t notice, or was too scared to.” With a quick shake of the head, I dug my nails into my palm. “But, it started getting really bad towards the end.”
He lifted his hand slowly, fingers brushing against the scar on my shoulder. “He’s the one who gave you this?”
Clearing my throat, I nodded, surprised that I hadn’t recoiled from his touch as I had so many others. “It was the first snowfall of the season. I’d… pissed him off.”
The words made Jake angry. I could feel it as he forced himself to keep breathing. I’d expected him to need a minute, like Patrick often did; instead, his hand slid from my shoulder, taking hold of mine and gently prying it open, replacing the brunt force of my nails against my skin with his warm palm. His gaze was soft, still so full of that bright, adoring light. “Thank you for opening up to me. I’m not trying to… pressure you into answering all my questions, I just wanna be… prepared. I want to actually be able to help you if - when it gets bad.”
“You do help me,” I said, almost like a whisper against him. “I don’t know how, but you just… always know what to say or do. You make it… easier to get through til the morning.”
The words seemed to register with him deeper than he expected. He set his head against mine and just breathed with me as the distant sounds of a new fight started to fill the quiet. As much as it frustrated and terrified me, Jake was right… talking about ti did make me feel better.
Eventually, Jake stood, hand in mine as he pulled me with him. “Come on, princess.”
“Where are we going?”
“Dinner,” he answered. “I can hear your stomach growling from here.”
I’d thought about arguing, or coming up with some sassy quip, but just as I opened my mouth, my stomach growled loud enough to bring a smirk to Jake’s face. “Not a word.”
Nana’s was busy, but apparently not too busy for us. The second the old woman spotted us through the window, she shoved a group of Dom’s bikers out of their seats and ushered us inside, where her arms wrapped around me. “Oh, my dear!” She pulled back and smiled. “You look better today.”
“Thanks, Nan.”
“Still too thin, though!” She tutted, glancing at Jake. “You too! Come, come, sit, and I will have Abdul bring you everything!”
We sat down across from each other, shoving the bikers’ left behind pack of cigarettes and lighters into the corner. A sense of normal slowly began to replace the leftover fear and anger my body had been clinging to. We laughed and ate until our stomachs were ready to burst, and I loved every second of it. It felt like nothing was wrong - like nothing could go wrong.
Nana piled our arms full of boxes and squeezed my cheek. “Thank you for helping, habibi!”
“Always, Nana,” I answered, kissing her cheek.
She stopped Jake with a hug and one of her prayers. “Don’t be strangers!”
“And live without your food? Not a chance,” he replied.
“Sweet talker,” Nana laughed, pinching his cheek. “Stay out of trouble, habibi’s.”
Prue and Katie were standing by the cash register when we walked in, and judging by her happy squeal, we were right on time. She pulled their boxes out of my hands and quickly began digging into them while Jake and I just stood there. I scoffed, tapping Prue’s shoulder. “Rude! Not even a thank you?”
“Thank you,” she quickly signed to both Jake and me.
“No problem,” Jake signed back.
“You’re welcome.” I looked around at the spotless parlour. “Busy day?”
She set her fork down and nodded. “I had a full day booked! Didn’t even have time for lunch. Hence the desperation.”
“I feel ya, but hey, at least you’re making good money.”
“Yeah, but I can’t wait to get off and see Will. We’ve both been so busy this week, it’s like we haven’t seen each other at all!”
“Sorry, that sucks.” I rubbed her shoulder.
“I miss him. And I miss getting railed b-”
I looked away from her hands, shaking my head at Jake as he asked what she was saying. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”
Prue slapped my shoulder. “Thanks for dropping this off. Now get outta here so we can finish up, and I can go get laid.”
“Happy humping.”
“Did you just say happy humping?” Jake asked the second we were out the door.
I glanced at him, grinning. “Do you really want me to tell you about Will and Prue’s sex life?”
He made a face. “Nope.”
“That’s what I thought.”
The strip club was just getting into the swing of the night when we snuck in through the back. Everywhere we looked was covered in boobs and brightly colored outfits being tossed around. Jake kept his head down. “Why are you looking at your shoes?”
“I’m not gonna look at the stages, what if Quinn’s on?”
“Aww,” I teased, bumping into him. “You guys really are like siblings, now aren’t you?”
“Oh, can it.” He shoved me back.
Thankfully, for his sake, Quinn was still in the back fully clothed. She wiggled her fingers at us and happily accepted her mountain of boxes. “At last!”
“You’re welcome,” I sang.
“Yeah, thanks or whatever.”
“Rude. You and Prue.”
“Prue was rude?”
“Yeah, she’s apparently not getting laid enough.”
Jake made a disgusted noise and turned towards the door. Quinn laughed, mischievously wiggling her brows. “And are you getting laid enough?”
I smirked back at her. “Do you really want to know? Jake’s like your brother now.”
“I’m asking about your sex life, not his.”
“She’s sleeping with me,” Jake practically shouted from his place across the room.
“I just wanna make sure she’s enjoying it!” Quinn yelled back.
With an evil smile, I shrugged and, as casually as I could, said, “I mean, I could tell you about the thing he does with his tongue.” Quinn gagged, and Jake’s face turned red as he started pulling me out of the room. “What? I thought you wanted to know how good my sex life was!”
I was laughing the whole walk to Ozzy’s. “You done yet?”
“Hell no!” I happily replied. “I’m gonna be making both your lives miserable for the foreseeable future.”
Peter and Isaac were already curled up together in a booth when Jake and I walked in and made our way to the bar. Ozzy reached over and cupped my cheek. “How are you feeling, darling?”
With a soft breath, I smiled back at him. “Better.”
“Good.” Oz glanced at Jake. “And you?”
“A bit mortified, but fine.”
“Mortified?”
“I was teasing him and Quinn,” I proudly announced.
The big man grimaced. “Say no more. I’ll get you something strong, Jake.”
One by one, my mob of family and friends made their way to Ozzy’s. Their crude jokes and laughter eased the sting of Tony’s “gift”. Seeing them all safe and happy, it was enough for me to forget everything else, for a little while at least.
Jake’s body pressed against mine as he settled deeper into the booth beside me. I curled into him without even thinking twice. Having him here was more than enough too.
*
“So you’re really moving out?” Ari asked after a shot.
“Yep,” Lena replied, clearly not happy but not struggling to talk about it anymore.
“I’m sorry, Tiger,” she cooed before instantly perking up. “You can come stay with me!”
Lena shifted awkwardly. “That’s very sweet of you, but I couldn’t impose like that.”
“Oh come on, we’d have so much fun!”
“Thanks, but I’ll honestly probably just stay with my brothers for a while.”
“No fun,” Ari grumbled.
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure that’s gonna be okay? I know how much you hate being crowded.”
Lena shrugged. “I’ll make it work.”
The couple vacated, announcing another round of drinks, and Jake’s pocket felt heavy all of a sudden. He’d grabbed the spare key to his apartment before leaving. It’d been impulsive and maybe stupid of him to even think Lena would want to have it, yet he couldn’t shake the urge to ask her anyway.
“You can stay with me,” Jake finally offered, his chest filled with an anxious tension that wasn’t quite good or quite bad.
Lena’s reply was exactly what he’d expected. Avoidant, noncommittal. “I don’t think you understand what you’re offering.”
Stubborn, he thought as he took the glass out of her hand and looked down at her with a grin. “I know exactly what I’m offering, princess.”
He held out the extra key he’d been carrying all day. Lena looked up at him with a shocked expression that made her look adorable. She quickly shook her head. “Jake, that’s…”
“Take it,” he interrupted. “Just in case.”
She sat there and stared at it for a moment before quickly snatching it out of his hands and burying it in her pocket. “Not another word.”
He had to chew on his cheek to keep himself from uttering one of the five sarcastic quips that came to mind. “Sure thing.”
As the night continued, they listened to whatever story Quinn was telling, or tried to. Everyone was tired, but unwilling to admit it for one reason or another. Jake was about to call it when Lena suddenly shifted against him. Her hands ran down his body, rummaging through his pockets and jacket. “Can I help you?”
Her fingers curled around his pack of cigarettes, and she grinned. “Can I bum one of these?”
He pulled his lighter out of the opposite pocket and handed it to her. “Go nuts, princess.”
“You coming with?”
“I’ll meet you out there,” he answered, holding up his half-empty beer.
She pressed her lips to his, waving off their friends hollering. “See you in a bit. Try not to get your ass kicked on your way out!”
Once she’d vanished in the crowd, Quinn smiled at him, holding Ari under her arm as she laughed, “Aren’t you two just adorable?!”
He chugged the rest of his drink and rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
“Never!” She yelled back as he walked away.
Ozzy happily accepted his cash. “You two turning in for the night?”
“I think so,” he answered. “She’s havin’ a quick smoke, and then I’ll try to convince her to go to sleep.”
“Good luck,” the big man laughed. “Maybe she’ll actually listen to you.”
He quickly crossed his fingers and made his way out the back door into the first alley between the bar and gym. He’d gotten to the top step of the gym door, hand wrapped around the knob, when he’d heard it. “Hey, Jake.”
Tess lifted herself up off the ground, dusting her pants off. “Tess?”
“I know you probably don’t wanna see me still… so I waited out here, hoping you’d come for a smoke.” She shook her head. “After the redhead left, I figured you wouldn’t be far behind.”
Jake took a moment to process what she was saying, forcing himself to swallow the angry and surprised reply that definitely would have hurt her feelings. “What do you want?”
“To talk. And to... maybe-”
“Get back together?”
“Yeah,” she breathed. “I know you’re mad at me.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Jake,” she sighed. “Can we please just talk?”
He stepped down. “And what are you expecting, exactly? That we kiss and make up and everything goes back to the way it was?”
She shifted on her feet. “I don’t know! But the least I can do is try.”
Tess was quicker than he anticipated, or maybe he was just more drunk than he realized. She closed the gap between them, hands settling firmly on his shoulders, and lifted herself up to press her lips to his. His hands had wrapped around her waist on instinct, but there was no spark, no fire in his chest.
The second their lips touched, Jake felt wrong, just like he did when he’d kissed Olive. It wasn’t bad, it was hardly anything at all, and still his chest ached. All he could think about was Lena. How she kissed him like she was starved for it, or how perfectly in sync they were without words. How she laughed and teased. Would she be angry if she saw us? The thought made him feel worse. Would it hurt her?
He pulled away first. Quick and definite. “Stop. Lena and I are…” Casual? Not at all casual?
“Seriously?” She breathed, staring up at him. “When has a girl ever stopped you from kissing someone else?”
“Now.”
“You…” Tess hesitated, still grappling with the disbelief of it all. “You actually care about her?”
“The way I feel about her…” He paused, fighting the smile that so naturally wanted to break out. “It’s different than I expected. More… Deeper…”
“Deeper than your feelings for me?” she asked, big eyes already filling with tears before he even answered.
The answer was instant, delivered not with anger or some bitter desire to get back at her for all she’d put him through. It was honest. “Yeah.”
She nodded, lips pursed and face furrowing with repressed hurt and anger. After a quiet moment, she asked the question Jake had been dreading from the start. “Are they deeper than your feelings for Simone?”
His heart stuttered, and all the relief and peace that had only just begun to settle inside him vanished. Fuck this. His face twisted into a bitter sneer, and Jake felt a shift in him. He felt like he used to, bitter and angry and so full of all the hate and disappointment of everyone that mattered that it smothered everything else inside him. “You don’t get to come in here and question me like I’m someone to you.”
Tess scoffed. “I’ll take that as a no then.”
“You can take it however you want to take it,” he bit back. “You don’t fucking know me, Tess. You barely knew me then.”
“I knew you, Jake. Parts of you that you didn’t even know, and I got screwed over because of it.”
“You got screwed over because you chose to go behind my back and try to ruin Simone’s life!”
“I was trying to help you!” She shouted. “You are never going to move forward if you keep clinging to her like you do!”
“Fuck off,” Jake ground out.
“Does she know?” Tess asked, arms crossing over her body. “About the restaurant?” Jake didn’t need to answer, and she didn’t need to either. “Does she know about your feelings for Lena?”
“I tell Simone everything,” he repeated, either to her or himself, he didn’t know at that point.
“I don’t doubt you told her you slept together, I’m asking if she knows it’s more than that.”
Jake shook his head, turning away from her. Simone knew that what he had with Lena was … different. It was obvious to everyone else, and she wasn’t stupid. But, every time he thought about actually telling her that he was… that it was deeper than anything he’d felt in a long time, he felt terrified. It reminded him of when they were younger, he’d been so scared of disappointing her because every time he did - which was a lot - she’d be cold and distant with him.
Simone had been the sun to Jake ever since he’d gone to live with her and her parents. She’d taken care of him, taught him, loved him more than anyone else ever had. And when she was gone, it felt like he was drifting aimlessly in the cold, lifeless void her absence left behind.
It had been clear from the start that Simone and Lena would never be close. Both had their issues with the other, issues that he honestly didn’t quite understand, but he’d respect so long as it meant they’d all coexist peacefully. If he were honest… if he told Simone everything that had happened between him and Lena and how he actually felt about her… he wasn’t sure she’d take it well. She’d taken his genuine feelings for Tess badly, and those were minuscule compared to what he felt for Lena. She’ll take that warmth, that love, away and be through with me, he told himself. I’d lose her.
Simone was all he had, truly had. She was the only one who knew him and loved him in spite of it all. Lena knew parts of him, ones he’d thought were gone forever, but it was still… new. If she saw all of him, would she stay, like Simone did, or would she leave him behind like everyone else? He didn’t really know the answer, and part of him hoped he never would. At least then he wouldn’t have to be faced with the possibility of losing her.
Tess sighed, and Jake couldn’t help but look back at her. “Look, I know I fucked up. A lot. I just… I just wanted things to go back the way they were before that.”
“I know,” he admitted, all that fire, all that fight leaving him and an empty feeling taking its place.
“But…” She smiled, a sad smile that made him feel worse than he thought he would. “They can’t.”
“I know.”
Tess wiped the tears from her cheeks and sighed. For the first time since she’d left 22West, she looked like Jake remembered in the beginning. Small, innocent, just a girl trying to find out who she was. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry… for all of it.”
He could think of a hundred cruel ways to respond, and yet, he said none of them. “Don’t be. You did what you thought was right.” Her eyes shimmered up at him and made him feel stupid. He cleared his throat and added, “Yeah, it was fucked and blew up your whole life, but… it led us both here.”
“And you’re happy with that?” She asked, but unlike the first time, it felt like she genuinely cared.
It was less her asking out of some obligation, or trying to trip him up. It felt like Tess actually wanted to know that he was content with the way the chips landed. And, this time, he actually considered his answer.
If Tess hadn’t done what she did, he might’ve still been fucking her, at least until she got too close. Simone would have still been acting off. He still would have spent the holiday in the stupid fucking Cape. Tess wouldn’t have been fired, and her job wouldn’t have been available, and Lena never would have come to - or back to - 22West. I never would have met her. So, with a nod, Jake had his answer. “Yeah, I am.”
She still looked sad, but it was like he could actually see her accept it. They were over. It was done. “I’m glad.”
“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Tess.” And he did, genuinely.
“Me too.” She pulled her jacket on tighter and smiled at him one last time. “Goodbye, Jake.”
He watched her walk down the alley and vanish around the corner. “Bye, Tess.”
Without even thinking, his feet carried him through the old gym. His fingers ran over the old, worn gloves hanging over the locker room door, and then he was outside, staring at Lena as she flipped through an old magazine. She looked up and smiled. “There you are.”
His heart ached, guilt and anxiousness filling him with an unbearable desire to just blurt out every single thing he felt. She’s gonna hate me, isn’t she? If it’d been Simone, she’d slap him, cuss him out, and then ignore him for weeks. God, please don’t be like Simone. Weeks without her… he wouldn’t survive.
Lena tilted her head, looking at him carefully. “You okay?”
“Tess and I…” He swallowed the fear.
*
“We kissed.” My heart stopped beating for a moment, hurt unfurling inside me and making each breath feel painful. Jake noticed, instantly, quickly adding a soft, “I’m sorry.”
“You…” I swallowed the hurt that made my throat feel hoarse again and shook my head. “You have nothing to apologize for.” My chest felt tighter, with the lie, the denial of the pain I felt. The bitter burn of jealousy made my next words even harder to get out. “I mean, it’s not like we’re official or… exclusive or anything.”
“Well, maybe I want to be,” he said quickly. His eyes were soft, but in them I could see that brilliant burn of determination that Jake only got when he was absolutely set on something.
My response was a stupid, idiotic breath. “What?”
“Look, I know we agreed no labels, but…” he shook his head, sighing heavily before just laying it all out. “I’m crazy about you. I… I can’t even think about not getting to see you every day. You are the most amazing woman, person, I’ve ever met, and I…” he paused, taking a step toward me. “I don’t want to be with anyone but you.”
Stupidly, tears began to build in my eyes. “Jake… This is more complicated than you think it is. What happened yesterday -”
“Has nothing to do with how I feel about you,” he interrupted.
My lower lip quivered as I sadly smiled at him. “It’s only gonna get worse. It might not change how you see me right now or… or affect how you feel right now, but it will eventually, and I… I don’t think I can survive that.”
He shook his head. “Do you feel the same way I do?”
“Jake-”
“Do you?” He asked again.
I closed my eyes and sighed. “Of course I do. You’re…you mean more to me than I ever thought possible.”
“That’s it then,” he said smoothly. “That’s all that matters.”
“What if-”
“We can play what if all night,” he replied with a laugh. His hand slid into mine, and I couldn’t help but look up at him. “What if this is a huge mistake? What if a meteor flies through the apartment? What if I fuck it up? What if… it’s the best fucking thing that’s ever happened? What if I don’t fuck it up?” Jake’s smile was infectious, coaxing one of my own to meet him. “I don’t care about the what-ifs as long as you’re with me.”
After a long, quiet moment of us just staring at each other, smiling like fools, I whispered, “Say it.”
Jake chuckled. “What?”
“You gotta say it,” I teased.
He rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, you gotta actually ask me, or it doesn’t count.”
“Lena,” he finally sighed, hand squeezing mine as he stared down at me with that look that made me feel like I’d been struck by lightning. “Would you please be my girlfriend?”
Yes, I thought, instantly, but didn’t say out loud. Tapping my chin with my finger, I hummed quietly, as though I had to think about my answer. “Hmmm… I dunno, what kind of perks would I get?”
Jake laughed, humming for a second as he composed his list. “I have a cat.”
“A stolen cat.”
He took a step closer, the hand that was in mine, drifting up my arm, caressing my skin. “I have a very comfortable bed.”
“It is pretty comfy.”
His hands shifted, wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer. “I have amazing hands, and I’m really, really good at sex.”
I bit back a grin. “You sound really sure about that.”
“I am.” He nudged my nose with his, breath fanning across my lips as he spoke. “So, what do you say, princess?”
“I say… yes,” I replied, lips caressing his for just one second. “For the cat, of course.”
He grinned, wide and wild. “Yeah, sure, for the stupid cat.”
Jake’s lips were hard on mine, desperate and wanting in that way that left me utterly breathless. It was like magic, that spark of his lips moving in time with mine erased everything else. My birthday, the snow, Tony… none of it mattered.
My hands fisted into his clothes, pulling him, keeping him exactly where I needed him. down to meet my ravenous lips. His hands mirrored mine, pulling my skirt up and slipping his fingers below my panties, dragging them to the side. With one hand already occupied, he used the other to pull my thigh up to rest along his waist. Jake turned us both, pressing me into the rough brick wall, where he pulled his lips away from mine to breathlessly whisper, “This remind you of anything?”
It took a moment for my brain to register anything other than his lips and his hands, but when it did finally recall the sinful night, my heart stuttered. “Halloween.”
His dark eyes ran down the length of me with a click of his tongue. “Shame you’re not in your costume.”
“Shame you aren’t in yours,” I replied, drawing a line down his chest with my finger.
“Maybe, one of these nights we’ll have to have a redo,” he whispered, the fantasy instantly taking hold in my mind. “Now that we’re… official.”
“It’s a date.” I bit my bottom lip and smiled up at him. “Now, are you gonna fuck me on this hideous couch or not?”
Jake’s hands slid up higher, fingers gliding along the curve of my bare ass, hips pressing right into mine, forcing a moan from my lips. He nodded, smug as all hell. “Yeah, that was the plan. Just… one minute...”
“Fuck,” I whispered, as his body vanished from mine.
He leaned over, quickly propping an old, folded chair underneath the back door of the gym. With a wink, his hands and his body were back on mine. “Can’t be too safe with Sasha around.”
I kissed him hard, burying my hands back into his shirt and pulling until it was up over his head, exposing his chest to me. “You’re a genius.”
“God damn right I am,” he huffed back, hoisting me up and using the wall to steady me as my legs wrapped around his waist.
His deft fingers vanished into my already aching core, his thumb rolling along my already sensitive clit as I ground down on his hand. The air filled with fog between us as I moaned his name, “Jake.”
My whole body hummed, the tension I’d been carrying for days, vanishing beneath his touch. He smiled against my neck. “There you go, princess.”
“Couch,” I whispered, pulling his hair. “Right now.”
He pushed himself back, less clumsily than he had on Halloween night, until he sat back against the old leather. I deftly unbuttoned his pants and pulled his aching cock out, kissing him as it settled between the lips of my pussy, catching deliciously against my clit. I moaned into his mouth, lips parting enough for him to slide his tongue across mine.
This time, when we parted and gazed into each other’s eyes, neither of us even tried to hide that vulnerable realness that had been stuck between us for longer than either of us would admit. This is real, I thought, fingers running tenderly along his jaw. Jake smiled, his hands running through my hair, tucking it behind my ear. Real.
“Jake,” I whispered, as I began to sink down on him.
“I know,” he said, quietly, as though it was part of some prayer. “Come on, don’t keep me waiting.”
He filled me perfectly, hands gripping my hips, and holding me in place for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. I giggled, biting his neck and sucking on his earring. “Come on, pretty boy, don’t keep me waiting.”
“Fuck,” he practically whimpered, thrusting up into me.
My hips moved in time with his, grinding down into the intense pleasure like my life depended on it. Sparks flew behind my eyelids every time I shut them. “Don’t stop.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Jake’s hands slid up my body, pulling my top down just enough for him to take one of my nipples into his mouth.
I gasped, clinging to him tighter. “Jake! I… I’m close!”
“Already? Well, come on,” he urged. “Give it to me, princess.”
I came quickly after that, something in his voice just putting the final nail in the coffin. And he knew it too, smirking against my chest as I whimpered. “Jake…”
“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” Damn him. I could already feel the pressure building up in my gut again. “One more. Just one more, beautiful.”
My breaths were ragged as his thrusts hit deeper inside me, spots that made my whole body tingle. “Oh, my god.”
Jake’s own breath grew desperate, as his hands dug into my hips, gently molding me into a more arched position that somehow allowed him to slide in deeper. One of my hands clutched onto his knee, as I lost myself entirely to the pleasure this new angle brought. “That’s it.”
No one had ever made me feel like that, and Jake… Another noise surged from my chest, one I would have been embarrassed by if I weren’t so focused on how good his cock felt rubbing against my tight walls. Jake could never fucking know. But, judging by the way he smiled, he already did.
This time, when I came again, Jake wasn’t far behind. His thrusts got sloppy, and his grip tightened as he chased his own release. The second he came, his body slumped back against the couch, pulling mine with it. “Fuuucck.”
“I fucking hate Sasha for robbing me of this on Halloween,” I breathed, finally gathering enough strength to lift myself up and look at him.
Jake laughed, brushing my hair off my face. “Yeah, but it all worked out in the end.”
“Yeah.” I still got you. “But still, fuck him.”
“We should get cleaned up, you know, before any nosey Russians or older brothers come sniffing around.”
“True.” I sighed, glancing up at the apartment windows. “Were you serious? About letting me stay the night whenever?”
He grinned. “I dunno, what perks would I get?”
I hummed, happily snuggling further into his chest. “I have a cat.”
“He’s my cat.”
“I can clean.”
“Oh, I remember, Cindy.”
I rolled my eyes and kissed him. “I can walk around naked all the time.”
He practically moaned, patting my legs with a nod. “That’ll do. Go get your stuff.”
Fixing my clothes, I shook my head at him. “So simple-minded.”
“Oh, I can think of a lot of complicated things we can do with you naked,” he assured.
“Promises, promises.”
*
The shift had only just ended, but everyone was quick to get down to the bar. Heather shoved her clothes into her locker with a groan. “God, I fucking hate rich people.”
“Ouch,” Ari whined.
“Your parents are rich,” Heather explained.
“Plus, you hate them too,” Sasha added.
“Right.”
Jake rolled his shoulders and sighed. “If I ever have to remake a goddamn whisky sour again, I might just lose my mind.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder and grinned. “Oh, you poor baby.”
He glared back at me. “I remade it four times. Do you know how long you have to shake a whiskey sour?”
“Want me to kiss it better?” I offered, closing my locker and instantly jumping in to massage his tender shoulder.
“Immensely,” he groaned, though I could tell he was really only half joking.
Pulling his shirt down and pressing my lips to his soft skin, I leaned against him. “There. All better?”
“Absolutely.” He bumped me with his nose. “Thanks, princess.”
“Come on, and I’ll make you a drink too.”
“A kiss and a drink?” He whistled. “What’d I do to deserve that?”
I shrugged, lacing our fingers together. “I dunno, guess it’s just your lucky night.”
His brows rose, eyes suggestively fixating on my hips. “Oh, yeah? And just how lucky do you think my nights gonna be?”
“Mmm,” I hummed, giving him an equally suggestive look as we walked through the kitchen doors and stepped into the dining room. “Hard to say, but it sure feels lucky.”
“Bonjour Beauté.”
My skin crawled immediately, heart hammering in my ears, and all the playfulness vanishing from my face. No. I froze, everything swirling and swarming in my vision like flies. This isn’t happening. With a ragged sigh, I turned my head to the door. God damn it all.
TW: As always: the tw does contain spoilers! This fic has language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, sex, nudity, general mentions of violence, past abuse, and soooo on. Say it all with me folks, HAPPY BIRTHDAY LENA! Nothing bad could happen at all! xD Just kidding! We've got lots of flashbacks this chapter, all of which feature our least favorite person ever, Tony! Lots of themes of abuse, guns, violence, murder, arson, the works. The brothers are trying to be there for their sister, Quinn and Dom are doing their best to fill Jake in on the birthday dos and don'ts. We've got some angst, fluff, Jake gets some answers and even more questions! And of course, cause it's me a bit of a cliffhanger!
Sorry about the late update! Last week really got away from me! I did have to make some bigger edits to this chapter (adding scenes, taking some out), so I really, really hope it all turned out coherent and enjoyable!
The tall skyscrapers faded behind us until they were practically nothing but shimmering shapes in the distance. Trees began to fill in the empty landscape, bare branches rattling in the cold wind as snow fell from the grey sky. It had been hours since Tony had spoken, hours of endlessly driving further and further away from the city. Further away from home.
"Where are we going?" I eventually asked, timid and meek.
"Somewhere fun,” he answered simply.
We had very different definitions of that word. Fun. My heart hammered in my chest, mind working overtime trying to prepare myself for whatever he'd planned. That was an impossible feat, after all, there was no limit to what he'd do. Fun could be anything from beating a man within an inch of his life for a slight so small no one would even know he’d done anything wrong, all the way to skinning the flesh off of someone’s arm. No matter what this “fun” was, I’d have to play along or risk Tony’s ire.
The car eventually stopped in front of an isolated, old ice cream parlor. It wasn't a fancy place, or one I'd imagined Tony would ever set foot in, but to my thirteen-year-old self, it did look like the fun he’d promised. I pulled my coat tighter around me, turning to look out at the vast expanse of dead trees that shielded us and the city beyond from view. It was quiet this far out of the city. Peaceful, maybe, or maybe it was just unnerving.
“Lena.” The warning was gentle, this time. He opened the door for me, revealing a handful of employees, but a mostly empty lobby. It was decorated head to toe in lavish streamers and balloon archways. All the tables were covered in fine silk tablecloths, and everyone was donned in their finest attire. A mountain of presents sat to the far left of the parlor, and an extravagant cake was placed in the center of the room. Orange roses were scattered throughout the room, the petals decorated the floor, and the long, delicate stems brought an element of carefully curated perfection to every table. It was beautiful… like it’d come right out of one of my dreams.
I should have questioned it, but I was just so focused on how perfect it all looked, on how hopeful it felt to receive something as amazing as this. "Is all this for me?"
"Of course it is," he whispered, hands squeezing my shoulders. "You are the birthday girl after all. And it's your first birthday back home, so I had to do something special!"
"It's beautiful!"
Tony smiled down at me, the singular smile that didn’t make me flinch. “I’m glad you like it. Now, go on, enjoy!”
Enjoy, I did. Every second of the dumb arcade games and silly activities that the staff had prepared felt like a weight lifting off my chest. It was everything I'd ever wanted. When the time finally came for me to sit down in front of the cake, I stared into the brightly colored candles. Tony's slightly distant voice encouraged me, "Make a wish, baby girl."
Closing my eyes, I smiled, thinking I'd finally gotten the wish I'd been wishing for ages. I closed my eyes, and everything changed. The gunshot was quick and entirely unexpected, though I should have seen it coming. My hands flew over my ears as my eyes flew open.
The innocent staff were screaming, trying to flee as Tony lifted his gun and pulled the trigger without mercy. I dove to the floor, ignoring the glass cutting my legs or the blood that now stained the floor. I closed my eyes tight and hummed Rada’s simple song, desperately trying to drown out the sound of their cries for help.
*
My eyes opened, but my body didn’t move. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, sweat sitting on my skin, and an old sob lodged in my throat as I lay staring up at the ceiling. You’re home, I told myself, fighting against the tears stinging my eyes. I tried to pick out the old posters and photos that used to help me overcome these moments of panic, but the tears had built up too much, casting the room in a haze that only made it easier to trick my mind into thinking it was all fake. That day is over. The sob slowly choked its way out of my throat in a raw, quiet scream that I hoped my brothers didn’t hear. My fingers curled into the blanket, and I finally allowed myself to quietly cry.
This is the only one you get, I told myself. One cry. One breakdown and then you’re gonna be fine for the rest of the day.
That morning felt slower than any other. Paralyzed in my bed, all I could do was cry and hope that I was quiet enough that my brothers couldn’t hear. When the tears finally subsided, I counted the photos on the wall and picked out all the familiar objects until I could finally drag myself out of bed. I showered, lingering beneath the spray of hot water until my skin felt raw. I got dressed, picking out whatever clump of clothes my fingers first touched. It didn’t matter if they didn’t match. It didn’t matter if the shirt was slightly too small or the pants were technically not suitable for a day out and about. None of it mattered. Not today.
When my brothers finally knocked on my door, I’d already been awake for an hour, staring out the old window from my seat on the edge of the bed. One foot was only in a sock while my shoe covered the other. The door creaked open, and their faces peeked through.
“Happy birthday?” The way they said it made it seem like more of a question rather than the usual celebration.
After being met with a long silence, they both came and sat down next to me on the bed. Peter studied me while Patrick made quick work of helping me put on my other shoe. “How are we doing?”
“I’m good,” I answered, stiffly.
They shared a glance, but Patrick still smiled. “Good and now good to go.”
Peter squeezed my shoulder, absolutely catching the way I flinched away from the touch. “Breakfast is ready when you are.”
“Thanks.”
I didn’t move as they made their way out, the door shutting softly behind them. I could hear them talking, the concern in their voices carrying through the walls and sinking into me like knives. My skin itched, my clothes felt too heavy, and my eyes burned all over again. Pressing the backs of my palms into my eyes, I forced a breath out of my lungs. “Pull yourself together.”
My birthday hadn’t always been a pity party. Whatever weird custody agreement my parents had forged in the early stages of my life had left me with my dad for most of December. My birthday used to be all smiles, loud cheering, and everything I could have dreamed of. We weren’t rich, like my mom was, but my dad never let that hold him back from going all out.
The decorations were bright and cheap, spanning from the apartment to the bar and even all the way to Nana’s. Dad even went so far as to make a cardboard crown for me to wear wherever we went. Every door he held open for me, every familiar spot he’d make a big speech to announce my presence, and no matter what I wanted to do, he’d always play along.
My birthday had been fun once. Normal. Now it was stained and tainted by every horrible memory, every gunshot, every death. Everything I wanted so desperately to forget forever was now all I could think of when the cheers started, and the candles were out. Worse, though, was how everyone else knew it and acted completely unlike themselves. The only one who never changed had been Dad, and now…
Forcing myself to my feet, I joined Peter and Patrick at the already set table. A simple pancake breakfast was neatly plated with a large pitcher of orange juice in the center of the table. It was normal-looking enough that I almost didn’t notice the birthday decorations slightly sticking out of the trash can. A wave of guilt washed over me, and I felt that lump form in my throat again. Quit being such a baby. They’re trying to make this special, and you’re ruining it.
“So,” Peter broached after a long moment of carefully watching me as we ate in silence. “You feeling up to all this?”
I barely lifted my gaze from my plate. “Of course.”
Patrick quickly swallowed his food. “Lee, if you don’t wanna do it, nobody’s gonna be mad.”
“It’s a party,” I replied, flippantly.
“Lena,” Peter answered. “Look at me.”
With a sigh, I set my fork down and stubbornly met his gaze. “I’m fine. The party will be fine. Stop worrying about it, please?”
“I just want you to know -”
“That you’re here for me. That everything is totally my call and that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. I know.” The words came out in a rushed mess and a tone that sounded far too much like anger. My brothers sat with it well, though, waiting until I’d taken a deep breath, blinked a few tears away, and spoke again, “Sorry. I’m just… Tired.”
Patrick reached over the table to give me a careful tap to the shoulder with his fist. It was light, like a puff of air, and it only made me feel worse. “That’s why we’re askin, stupid.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to play along with the normal routine, even when it was so blatantly obvious they were coddling me. Peter set his fork down. “If you don’t want to do the whole shebang, we’ll handle Nana. Just… answer me honestly. Are you okay?”
“I’m…” I stopped myself from regurgitating the lie. “I’m trying to be.”
“That’s fair,” he answered. “Look, we’re not tryin to coddle you or whatever. We just wanna make sure today is good.”
“Okay, even,” Patrick added. “We’ll settle for okay.”
“I just don’t want a repeat of last year, you know?” Peter tried to bring it up casually, but I could tell he noticed the drop in my face as I quickly suppressed the memory of my first birthday since Dad’s death. It was a joyless day, a day filled with drugs, angry shouts, and arguments. A day that reminded me just how cursed my birthday was. “You were miserable, and you barely talked for a week afterward. I don’t want that to happen again. None of us wants that to happen again. So, if you don’t wanna do any of it, that’s fine.”
Looking into my big brother’s eyes, I shook my head. “I want to do it. All of it. I just… I don’t want to let you guys down if it all blows up.”
“Let us down?” Patrick snorted. “Like it’s our opinions that matter?”
“This is your birthday,” Peter said, firm and unshaking, like he was trying to really get the reality of it to stick in my head. “YOUR birthday. We’ll roll with whatever comes our way. So long as you get to enjoy even just a little bit of it, that’s all we care about.”
“Exactly. So, even in the unlikely event that it all blows up, you let us deal with that.”
I stared at them both a bit longer, waiting for their expressions to shift or their eyes to give away the real thoughts they were keeping to themselves. But, like always, that never happened. My brothers sat there, honestly and earnestly holding out the world in their hands and encouraging me to take it. There were no strings attached, no silent expectations, nothing but the desperate hope shining in their eyes, a hope that I would finally accept what they offered and leave the rest behind. “Thanks. I’m sorry.”
Patrick groaned and rolled his eyes. “One rule, kay? No more apologies! You ever hear me apologize on my birthday?”
“No,” I answered with a fragment of a smile.
“And ya won’t! On my day, I’m king. On yours, you’re queen, so act like it, little sis.”
“Thank you. Both of you.”
Peter quickly waved my words away. “We’re family. This is our job. Now shut up and eat your breakfast.”
A tiny weight lifted off my shoulders as I smiled down into my syrup-drenched pancakes. You’re here. You’re home.
*
“Go over it one more time?” Jake asked, rubbing his eyes as the ache began to settle between his furrowed brows.
Quinn sighed from her place beside him. “Jesus, it’s not that complicated.”
He sent her a glare. “I’m slow, okay?”
“Obviously,” she bit back.
Jabbing his elbow into her side, Jake turned back to Dom and nodded. “One more time, please?”
The biker was leaning back in the corner booth seat at Nana’s. He may have looked relaxed to anyone else, but Jake could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his eyes tracked every movement. With a quiet sigh, Dom repeated himself. “If she gets quiet, let her sit for a minute. If she zones out, find a gentle way to pull her out of it. If she starts talkin’ to herself or spiraling, call someone. And most importantly, if she runs, call me and you fucking follow her.”
“Right,” he replied, repeating the instructions in his head, hoping they’d stick. “And just how likely is that last one?”
“Not very.”
“Not very?” He scoffed. “Fuckin helpful.”
“Just follow her lead, tough guy,” Dom answered with a roll of his eyes. “She says jump, you ask how high. Got it?”
Quinn played with her food and shook her head. “It’s not gonna be that bad this year.”
The biker chuckled. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“You clearly don’t remember last year very well.”
She ground her teeth together and glared at him. “I remember it just fine, asshole. I’m the one who got her to finally fuckin talk after a week of silence. You and the boys were the ones talkin’ about getting her put in some psych ward like that woulda done any fucking good!”
Dom didn’t look offended, at least not in the usual way. Instead, he just nodded. “Get it all out of your system?”
Quinn’s lips pursed slightly. The tension in her jaw made her entire face look tense. Finally, she shouted, “Stupid, fucking idiot motherfuckers!”
“Quinn!” Nana shouted from the front desk.
“Sorry!”
“That all of it?”
“Yep.”
“Good,” Dom replied.
Jake glanced between the two. “What the fuck was that?”
After a second, Quinn relaxed into her seat. “It’s just what we do. Dom’s a dick to me, and I’m a bitch to him. We get it all out of our systems here and now before Lena even steps foot in our radius, that way we can just… be there for her.”
The words were ones he was sure she meant to be comforting, but they did the opposite. If Quinn and Dom, arguably the two most confrontational and hardened members of their little mob, were toning themselves down, then what did that mean for everyone else? What was this day actually going to look like? If they’re going so far as to get their attitudes out of their systems, then what the fuck chance do I stand? “You’re just gonna kiss her ass all day?”
Quinn flinched at the harshness of his tone, or maybe at the hard truth of his words, but she still nodded. “Yep.”
“She hates that.” The statement wasn’t one anyone argued. “Why the hell are we doing something knowing she’s gonna hate it?”
“Because,” she sighed and shook her head, quickly retreating somewhere inside herself.
In all the time he’d known Quinn, he’d never seen her like this, not even when her dad had shown up. She looked tired, the kind that really settled in the eyes. Her usual bright and bitchy was now smothered beneath this exterior he didn’t even recognize. When her eyes finally met his, he could see the tears she was desperately clinging to until there was just a sea of guilt and anxiety staring back at him.
Jake carefully set a comforting hand on her knee while Dom reached over the table and gave her hand a quick pat. “Because it’s the only thing we can do.”
“How bad is today really gonna be?” He finally asked, turning away from Quinn to study Dom with just as much intensity.
The biker, tough as nails and from what Jake had seen, not scared of anything, looked absolutely broken as he answered, “I don’t know.”
Fuck.
“Damn it,” I mumbled beneath my breath as the crushing weight of possibilities and silent expectations hit me.
*
The locker room was empty when I arrived, and for once, I was grateful for it. Changing in the quiet felt more like pulling on a mask and perfecting an act. Each article of clothing, each piece of the uniform, was like a shell of armor, and each button was a practiced laugh or a fake smile. It was sad how normal it’d become for me to push everything else down and just put on a show until I could safely come undone tomorrow once the coddling and attention had died down. If it ever does.
Somewhere deep down, I knew my family and friends and everyone I loved didn’t expect anything from me. Deep down, I knew everyone meant what they said every year in every speech. They loved me, they only wanted to help me, they’d call the whole thing off if I asked, they’d do whatever I wanted. Realistically, logically, it was all so obvious, and yet every fiber of my being screamed at me that I was letting them down. Every year, some old, still wounded part of my mind would convince me that all of them were lying. I’d tell myself it wasn’t true, but no matter how many times I’d repeat that, it didn’t matter; the thought stayed.
So, there I was standing in front of my locker, practically hyperventilating as the thoughts in my head raged against each other. One told me the truth while the other clung to old lies. There was no winning. There was no peace. It was always just this… the fight, the one I’d so desperately tried to free myself of.
“Hey, you’re late,” Jake’s voice made me jump, hands quickly pressing into my eyes as tears leaked from the corners.
I cleared my throat and tried my best to sound normal as I hid my face behind my locker. “Yeah… I had a slow start today.”
“Your brothers make some fancy version of shitty eggs for your birthday?”
My mind flashed back to their faces, hopeful and kind and loving, then to the decorations in the trash. They’re trying so hard, and all you do is make them feel horrible. You’re ungrateful, entitled. Do you think they want to spend today kissing your ass and bending to your every whim? “Stop it,” I whispered, shutting my eyes and trying to drown out the thoughts. All you do is take. He was right about you. He always was. He always will be.
Jake cleared his throat, shuffling on his feet as he clearly fought the urge to approach me. “Lena?”
“No. No shitty eggs today,” I finally answered, buttoning up the last button on my shirt and forcing that fake mask on my face before turning to look at him. “Just pancakes.”
“Oh.” I could see him instantly see through my fake smile and forced reply. I could see the joy drain from Jake’s face, and it struck a deeper chord than I anticipated. My whole body felt wrong, sick for trying to fool him at all.
It’s Jake. My Jake. I don’t need to pretend with him. With that simple, silent reminder, I felt my forced smile fall. And with that slip of my mask, something far more dangerous had slipped as well. “Is there…” I paused and shook my head, turning away from him to stare into my still-open locker at the space my dad’s jacket should have been. My fingers twitched, that old instinct to reach out and take hold of the worn leather still clinging to me. “Any new artwork in today?”
“Thinking of starting another fire already?” Jake chuckled slightly, trying to act normal in the face of my walls. When I didn't respond, he sighed, head tilting ever so slightly. “What is it with you and those paintings?”
And before I could stop it, a wave of old anger and humiliation forced the words out of my throat. “Fuck, I don’t know? Maybe I just don’t wanna see the old projects that I was forced to paint for some stupid group of old rich fucking assholes to gawk at. Maybe I don’t want to be reminded of all the fucked up, heavily traumatic moments of my life inflicted by the worst mother in the history of mothers and the biggest psycho asshole ex in the goddamn world.”
Everything froze. My whole body felt heavy, like someone had injected ice into my blood as my brain caught up with everything I’d just spewed. Oh my god. Nausea filled my stomach as my hands began to shake. Oh my god, what the fuck? I sucked in a heavy breath and turned, wide-eyed to where Jake still stood in the doorway.
He looked just as shocked as I did. His whole body was tense, standing there like time itself had frozen. For the first time in months, I couldn’t read him. I couldn’t look at him and just know exactly what he was thinking, and that terrified me more than it should have.
“I, uh,” Jake shook himself of the shock and tried to recover, “Sorry, I guess… I just wasn’t expecting an actual answer.”
I tried not to look too horrified at my own sudden and unexpected forthcomingness. “Yeah, well, I guess you caught me off guard.”
Jake watched me for a minute, maybe trying to contemplate just how much he could push this “off guard” moment. Fuck, I thought, busying myself with anything and everything that wasn’t meeting his gaze. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why the fuck did I answer him?! Organizing the locker room wasn’t doing anything to throw Jake off the scent of just how not okay I actually was. What else? You gonna just answer every question he asks now? Fucking pull it together, Lena!
“No.” The sound of his voice made me jump again as I dropped a pile of Sasha’s old clothes.
“What?”
He leaned against the doorframe, quietly watching me. “No, there’s not another painting.”
It should have felt more relieving, but with no painting came other, worse fears. “Oh. Thanks.”
“Don’t be.” I shook my head and forced out a laugh at the new, entirely odd mixture of emotions swimming through my head. What is this? I wondered as the cathartic rush of it all practically erased all sense of impending doom and dread from my body. I still felt tense, but now it felt muddled… lessened at the truth that had been shared. This isn’t right. It didn’t feel like this when I told anyone else that. I turned, eyes finding Jake’s, and suddenly the answer felt clear. It didn’t feel this way because they weren’t my Jake. “It… It feels kind of… good that you know that.”
Jake’s eyes widened and I could tell he was trying not to let the moment go straight to his head. “Oh? That’s…” He chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not used to people actually feeling good that they’ve told me something deeply personal.”
I laughed again, a loud and real laugh that felt so good to let out. “I’m not used to it feeling so good to tell people something deeply personal.”
He took a step forward, tentatively coming to stand in front of me. His face brightened up, a smug grin spreading as he tilted his head in that cocky way of his. “This mean you’re gonna pour your heart out to me now? Tell me all those secrets you’ve got?”
“You wish,” I replied, stepping closer until his hands reached out to hold me. “It means… I’ll consider sharing more things with you. Later. Like way way way later. I’m talking like years down the line.”
“Years,” he mused, his grin shifting into a more genuine smile. “I think I can handle that.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, if waiting years for more personal sharing means you’re still gonna be around…” he paused, nodding down to me. “Then yeah, I think it’ll be worth my while.”
I melted into his chest, savoring this quiet reprieve from all things good and bad and in between. Right now, in that room, it was just us, and that was all I wanted. “How bad is it down there?”
He knew what I meant, judging by the way his arms squeezed me just a little tighter. “It’s… decorated. Howard had us all come in early to pitch in.”
“Ugh, how decorated?”
“There’s a banner.”
“Good god.”
He pulled back slightly, looking down at me with a devilish grin. “I’m sure I could figure out a way for it to… disappear.”
With a quiet chuckle and a shake of my head, I replied quietly, “No. It’ll be good practice for the big celebration at Nana’s.”
“The big celebration that you can absolutely call off,” he reminded, tucking my hair behind my ear. “This is your day, princess. You say jump, and I’ll jump.”
I shook my head again, holding his intense gaze. “I don’t want people to jump just because I say so. I… I just want everyone to be themselves. I want this to be… normal.”
Jake nodded. “I know. I just wanted to double-check before I started being a dick again.”
“I’d love it if you were a dick.”
“Say less, Princess.” He smacked my ass, hard, and nodded to the door. “You coming? Or are you gonna just let us all stand around like idiots all day?”
I laughed, watching him with a quiet appreciation. God, I… Stopping the thought before it could grow, I closed my locker and followed after him. “You all do that already.”
*
He was still partially shaken by the actual answer Lena had let slip. His mind was rushing with questions, and at first, he’d almost asked them, but then he’d looked at her face. There were a few times he’d seen Lena look genuinely horrified, and that was one of them. Her eyes were wide, fearful, filling quickly with tears. Her lip trembled, and her hands shook as she repressed a sound that made his heart break as she started moving, busying her hands with anything to distract herself from the truth she’d shared. So, he’d let his questions slam inside his head until it physically hurt. He’d swallowed the desire to learn more, to understand, and he’d let the moment fade.
Judging by the way her attitude had shifted instantly afterwards, he’d say he made a good call. Though Lena still wasn’t her usual self, she sat among their friends and colleagues, meeting the chorus of happy birthday cheers and lewd comments with a laugh and a roll of her eyes. Sasha threw an arm around her shoulder and grinned. “So, what horrid plans do you have for today?”
“Nothing crazy,” she replied, shaking him off her.
“No more fires?” He whined. Simone’s brow arched as her eyes shifted from her food to him. Shit, Jake scolded himself. That’s gonna bite me in the ass later.
Lena laughed, glancing at him. “Not that I’m aware of.”
He shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I apparently wasn’t good enough to make the cut for party planning.”
“Was Nana going absolutely nuclear?”
“Oh yeah.” He grinned, trying to shake off the weight of Simone’s eyes on him. “Pretty sure she actually swore once.”
“Good god, it’s worse than I thought.” She shook her head and took a long sip of the expensive wine Howard had “gifted” them for the occasion. “We’ll be lucky to walk out of there alive tonight.”
Leaning over the table to snatch one of the fancy foods off her plate, he nodded. “Why do you think I packed my loose pants?”
“Smart,” she praised, giving him that look that made his heart beat faster.
Suppressing a noise, he leaned back and watched her. God, I fucking… The word that came to mind was one he quickly dismissed, stealing a glance at Simone before family dinner officially ended. The word that he’d almost let himself think stuck with him all while he and Nicky prepped the bar for the busy night ahead. It scared him, and excited him. It was something he knew could never admit or let slip, but the thought of it made sense. More sense than he thought it ever would.
Service moved quickly. Bodies of people and their terrible laughs filtered in and out the doors in droves that Jake honestly barely interacted with. His eyes, his mind, his everything were honed in on the bright red hair that glided through the dining room. Lena had seemingly left whatever fears and bad memories behind her. Or she’s just good at pretending, he quietly mused. Or both.
The walls she’d put up made it harder for him to read her properly. Every thought seemed distant, every reply guarded, every move calculated in a way that was new for her. Quinn, Dom, even her brothers had warned him that in the colder months, Lena was like a different person. Only now that he’d seen it for himself did he really understand what they meant.
Outside, she was “normal”. She walked, talked, and looked like there was nothing wrong, but in those moments, few and far between as they were, you could see the cracks in the seams. The locker room had been one of those moments. Anger and fear and guilt and disgust had pulled that answer from her throat. The emotions weren’t new to him, but for Lena… it felt different. And he didn’t understand it fully.
So, Jake watched her. He watched and waited, hoping his observant nature would pick up on something he could work with to help ease the discomfort of this day that should have been a happy one. He silently promised himself or her, he wasn’t entirely sure, that he’d do whatever it took to make today the best birthday she’d had in a long time.
He didn’t watch me the way he watched everyone else. This was quiet, thoughtful, and oddly intimate. It was like his eyes were trying to tell me something, some secret that somehow, some way made me feel safe. Every time I’d catch that gaze, a smile would tug at my lips, and any lingering doubts or terrors would just vanish like smoke on a windy morning.
*
The second service ended, I was in the locker room, shoving my uniform into my locker and putting on the clothes that didn’t make my skin crawl. I’d managed to hold myself together the entire shift, a practiced thing honed by years of experience. What was new, however, was the genuine calm that had settled over me every time I caught Jake looking.
The bartop glistened beneath my rag as Nicky and I prepared for the oncoming wave of rowdy people desperate for a drink. The second Jake stepped foot outside the kitchen, he shook his head. “Get the fuck outta here, princess.”
“What?”
“I’m not gonna let you play bartender on your birthday.” He pried the rag out of my hands.
Rolling my eyes, I picked up a glass just to spite him. “If I remember correctly, you said you’d do whatever I wanted.”
He laughed. “And if I remember correctly, you told me you’d hate that.”
“I can’t change my mind on my birthday?” I teased.
“Nope.”
Before I could bite back, Jake quickly pulled something out of his jacket pocket and set it down on the bar in front of me. The box was small, wrapped with a simple red ribbon, yet it took my breath away all the same. I didn’t know why I hadn’t expected Jake to get me something. Maybe it was just because I’d been so focused on not falling apart, or maybe I’d thought it was too… serious for him.
"You…” I shook my head and glanced back up at him, trying to read his face. “You didn't have to get me anything."
He rolled his eyes, slightly avoiding my gaze. "No, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn't?"
"A pretty shitty one," I answered halfheartedly, fiddling with my fingers.
"Just fuckin open it," he urged in playful annoyance, bumping my shoulder with his.
"God don't rush me!" I returned the teasing, reaching forward to gently tug the ribbon off. I glanced up at him through my lashes. He was smiling, but not his usual one. This smile was stiff. Is he nervous?
He tilted his chin toward the box. "Go on. Open it, princess."
Glittering inside was a gorgeous locket. The white pendant hung from a delicate gold chain that shimmered in the lights. Painted on the front was a mermaid with dark hair and a green tail, holding a pearl in her hands as a handful of red and gold fish swam around her. It was simple, elegant, and unlike anything I’d ever seen before.
"If you don't like it, that's fine." He barely gave me five seconds before he reached for it with a sigh. "It was stupid. I'll just return it and get you shoes or some shit."
I snatched it up to my chest and looked up at him. "Don't you dare!" His eyes looked over my face as I smiled widely and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you, Jake. I love it."
His arms hesitantly wrapped around me, his hand rubbing up my back and pressing me closer as he finally relaxed. "You're welcome, Lena."
Quickly turning around l held the necklace out to him. “Put it on me?"
His fingers were soft and warm as they gently pulled the chain across my skin and latched the clasp together. My fingers pulled at the pendant, sliding along the smooth face of it with a smile. I turned and looked back at him, a giddy feeling making me feel almost lightheaded. “I’m serious, it’s perfect.”
“I’m glad you like the first part of your gift,” he answered.
“First part?” I asked, head tilting as though that would help me understand him better. “There’s more?”
“Course there is. Did you really think I was gonna half-ass your birthday?”
“No.” I laughed. “I guess I just didn’t think this would be your kind of thing.”
It’s you. He’d said it softly, gently, and genuinely. It was quiet, and yet it felt like lightning against my skin. In that simple reply, Jake reminded me just how much he saw me. “I…” My cheeks strained as my smile grew. “So, when do I get the other half?”
“Right now, if you want.” He gestured to the door. “But we gotta be quick, or Nana will kill me for making you late to your own party.”
“Lead the way, tough guy.”
Jake hailed a cab and whispered the address like it was a secret before he settled in the seat beside me. “Close your eyes.”
A pang of fear brought a chill up my spine. “Where are we going?”
Whether he picked up on my hesitation or not, I didn’t know. All I knew was his hand taking mine and squeezing. “You trust me?”
I could practically feel that old pain clawing at me from inside, a memory I couldn’t quite shake, an old wound that never fully closed, preventing me from answering. I could hear the engine of a car that wasn’t here. And yet, despite it all, I squeezed Jake’s hand tight and closed my eyes. “I trust you.”
“You won’t regret it,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to my face. “I promise.”
The twists and turns of the cab navigating the city made my stomach twist into knots. I felt stupid, foolish, and a little terrified. If this were Tony… My thumb caressed the backside of his hand, tracing over a scar that wasn’t there. This isn’t Tony. He pulled me in close, urging me to rest my head against his shoulder. It’s Jake.
“Almost there.”
Jake would never hurt me.
When the cab finally stopped, Jake paid the driver and helped me out into the cold. Despite every inch of me screaming to open my eyes, I kept them shut and let him guide me forward. He ducked down, quickly helping me duck too. I could hear the faint rattling of chain-link echoing along with the crunch of snow beneath our shoes. “Jake.”
“Just one more minute.” He positioned me, hands squeezing my shoulders gently before whispering, “Now.”
The second I opened my eyes, I was flooded with relief at the familiar sight. The new restaurant was only partially lit, a soft orange haze illuminating the bar, focused on the picture that now hung behind it. My eyes squinted as I took a tentative step forward to get a better look. That’s not a picture. It’s… I breathed softly, looking back at Jake, who seemed more nervous now than before. He nodded. “Go on.”
I walked quickly, fingers tracing the name carved into the bar as I rounded it and stared up at the old, worn leather now encased in protective glass. Harrow. Tears built up in my eyes as I finally looked down at the simple plaque. In honor of Jack Harrow.
“How did you?”
“Oz kept the pieces of the jacket in the office. I saw them one night and thought this would be a more fitting way to keep it.” Jake leaned against the bar beside me. “Just couldn’t figure out when to give it to you or… how. Then, Quinn mentioned your birthday was coming up and it just made sense.”
“Jake…” I sniffled. “This is the most amazing thing anyone’s ever given me.”
He shrugged off my compliment. “It’s nothing.”
“No,” I replied, reaching out to touch his face, forcing him to look at me. “It’s not nothing. This is… it’s everything. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled, looking back up at the jacket. “I might not have known him, but it felt right to have him here… if that makes sense.”
“It does. He would have loved this.” I glanced at him. He would have loved you.
Jake didn’t even turn his head. “Quit lookin’ at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I did something amazing.”
“You did do something amazing.”
He scoffed. “I hung something up.”
I slid up beside him, hands running along his chest until they came up to cup his face. “Jake. You did something really, really amazing.” My lips pressed to his, pulling him out of that flippant, avoidant state until he was putty in my hands. “So just accept it.”
“Fine,” he sighed, kissing me again. “You’re welcome or whatever. Now shut up and let me kiss you.”
Our mouths moved in harmony with one another’s, bodies moving similarly until all there was to think about was this. He and I. His lips on mine. His body pressed against me. How safe I felt in his arms. For that one moment, it wasn’t my birthday. It was just another day, any other one, with Jake by my side.
“Well,” he breathed, looking over at me from the bar floor after we’d finally exhausted ourselves. “That was one way to christen the bar.”
“Just don’t tell Scott.”
He grinned. “It’ll be our secret, princess.”
“Yeah.”
*
We stopped just outside the door to Nana’s, my heart hammering in my chest and my palms suddenly feeling clammy. Jake fixed my hair and smiled. “You ready for this?”
I half expected him to join the chorus of people telling me I didn’t have to do anything, but instead, Jake nodded and opened the door. “Good. It’s gonna be fun.”
Fun. It hit me like a truck. This is supposed to be fun. So have fun.
The second I stepped through the door, everyone was happily greeting me. Nana and Abdul both embraced me. Nana’s loving hands ran through my hair as she swayed and said, “Oh my Lena! Happy birthday!”
“We made all of your favorites,” Abdul added with a wink. “Even my curry puffs.”
“Thanks,” I replied softly as I looked out at the room full of my family and friends, all there to celebrate me. I waited for the horrible feelings to rise up, to choke out the joy and cheer of the room and everyone in it. And, for the first time in years, they didn’t come.
For the first time in a long time, I was able to look at the decorations and the table of presents and the feast laid out on the long table and actually smile. “It looks amazing Nana.”
“Anything for my girls,” she replied, holding back tears. “Enjoy it, habibi.”
And for the first time in too long, I did.
I enjoyed every bite of food, every dumb party game Quinn and my brothers had come up with. I enjoyed the toasts and teasing. I enjoyed Jake by my side. Everything was perfect, until the cake sat in front of me.
As they all stood there gathered around me, smiling and singing, all I could hear was one voice... The voice that had been the only one to sing to me before. The voice that wasn't here to sing now.
Rada held the small cupcake in front of me as I lay in bed, an ice pack pressed to my cheek and abdomen. She sang most of the song in Russian, but made it a point to say one part in English. "Happy birthday, my deaaarrr Lenaaaa!" With a gentle finger, she brushed the short strands of hair from my face. "Happy birthday, love. Now hurry! Make a wish!"
Tears stung my eyes for a minute as I closed them tight and practically begged. I wish for all this to end... I wish for peace. Through swollen lips I blew out the single candle and listened to Rada quietly cheer. "Thank you for this."
She waved my words away, grabbing the two forks she'd brought with her. "Shhh, let's eat quickly before I have to get to work, yes?"
"Yes, mama," I replied. Her eyes were wide with joyful tears and a smile. I'd called her mama before, often, but Rada always gave me that look after.
Digging a fork into the cupcake, she helped me eat it. "Happy birthday, my strong girl."
"Happy birthday toooo yoouuuuu!" The cheers made me jump in my seat, harshly dragged back to the present, where my family and friends all stood watching me. Either I hid the shock and pain well, or everyone was just nice enough to pretend they didn't see it.
Quinn eagerly nodded her head. "Well, go on, make a wish."
My teeth ground together as I stared into the flames. I... I wish...
Tony stood in front of the fire, with that orange gleam glowing in his eyes. Cigar hanging from his lips, he smiled. “Make a wish, Babygirl.”
I felt numb, watching the flames engulf the simple ice cream parlor and the bodies inside it. This day is cursed, I quickly decided. I am cursed. With tears in my eyes and a sob I couldn’t release, I closed my eyes tight. I wish…
A ragged breath made the flame flicker in my now swimming vision. Black spots blurred the faces of the crowd in front of me as the whole world began to spin. I forced myself up, the chair scraping against the floor as I did, and hurried to the door. Dom was already holding it open, his voice echoing, joining all the other voices now calling my name. I held my hand up and huffed out a simple, “I just need some air.”
The cold practically burnt me as I shuffled along the sidewalk, before pressing my back into the harsh brick. I could feel Dom’s eyes fix on me from his place standing guard at the door, but not even that seemed to help ground me now. Gone was the peace and the joy and the fun. Gone was everything I’d felt only moments ago… replaced now by a flood of those horrible memories that ruined this day every single year.
*
“Why?” I finally asked, timid and meek.
Tony barely turned his head. “Because I can.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I held in a sob. “But…They didn’t do anything to you.”
He laughed, a horrible sound that filled my gut with absolute dread. “They didn’t need to do anything to deserve what they got.”
“I-”
“Shut up.” His voice wasn’t mad, it was… amused. “Some people die because they deserve to. People who wrong me, people who forget who’s actually in charge, people who disobey. And some people die simply because I decide I want them to. People like your precious friends in that ice cream parlor. So no, they didn’t do anything to me, but they didn’t ever need to. Don’t you see?” He turned and looked at me, eyes leaving the road entirely. The smile that spread across his cheeks was one I’d never seen before and one I’d quickly decided I never wanted to ever again. “I decide who lives and dies in this game of ours, baby girl. Whoever they are, wherever they are, if I want them dead, then they die. You’d do well to remember that.”
“Hey,” Quinn’s voice quietly pulled me out of the sea of raging thoughts. “You okay?”
*
If Tony… The thought made my whole chest burn. I will not let him take them from me. No matter what. He won’t take them.
I didn’t know how long I’d been standing outside, but judging by the way my body was shivering, it’d been long enough. I wiped my eyes and forced my breath to steady. “I’m good. I’m good. I… just needed some air.”
“Okay.” She watched me for a minute, looking at me like Jake would before she finally nodded. “Just let me know when you’re ready to go back in, okay?”
“Is…” I swallowed hard. “Is everyone else okay?” Nobody’s mad at me, are they?
“Patrick is trying to juggle,” Quinn practically scoffed. I laughed, and she did too. “Everyone is just fine.” No one is mad at you.
“God, he’s an idiot.” I turned and nodded to the door. “I’m ready to go back in. Somebody’s gotta stop him before he breaks something.”
Quinn pulled a small compact from her bag. “Hold on.” She fixed my makeup with delicate hands and practiced ease. “There. Can’t let you back in looking like a mess.”
“Thanks, Quinn.” Before I could overthink it, I pulled her into a tight hug. “Thanks.”
She returned it, pressing her face into my hair. “Don’t mention it, bitch. I love you.”
“I love you too, bitch.”
“Okay, let’s go,” she said the second we pulled back, wiping her eyes with a smile. “Before you fuck up my makeup too.”
Upon reentering Nana’s, all the talking ceased. All eyes were on me, everyone looking timid and afraid of whatever words were going to come out of my mouth. The only one who looked like himself was Jake. He quirked a brow at me, giving me his signature smile as he mouthed the words, “You got this, Princess.”
With a laugh, I shrugged my shoulders and asked, “So, what did everyone get me?”
The tension melted immediately as presents began to be passed around. I still felt a pinch of nervous tension in my gut, but the second Jake’s hand took mine, I started to barely notice it. The rest of the party was fun and almost carefree. My brothers stayed behind to help clean while Jake and I headed to my apartment.
“That wasn’t so bad,” I said, leaning into him.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I paused. “Don’t let it go to your head, but… having you there… it… helped.”
Jake’s ego inflated instantly, and he stood up straighter and dusted off his jacket. “Oh yeah?”
“I said, don’t let it go to your head,” I whined, hopping up the steps in front of him.
“Not possible.”
The second we stepped into my apartment building, I froze. A path of orange petals littered the floor, leading to my front door. “Oh, my god.”
Jake whistled, walking forward undeterred. “Your brothers leave you a surprise?”
My heart was thundering in my chest as breathing became harder and harder. However, the second Jake walked into my apartment, I moved. “JAKE!”
“What?” He turned from where he stood in front of a large, ornately wrapped present. I was shaking now, tears falling down my face in waves as I tentatively reached out and pulled him away from the box. His face dropped, hands reaching out to hold me. “Hey, whoa, what’s the matter?”
“We need to go,” I ground out, pulling him towards the door.
“Lena-”
“WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW!” I screamed. “Please, Jake. Please, just let’s go.”
This time, when I stepped out into the cold air it felt wrong. Every noise, every shadow, everything felt warped. I gripped Jake’s arm tight and pulled him towards Nana’s. Echoes of car engines and screaming filled my ears, drowning out whatever words he was trying to comfort me with, but thankfully, he didn’t try to fight me.
The warm glow of Nana’s filled my vision and the soft bells that hung above the door chimed as we walked in. Peter and Patrick were wiping down the tables. Abdul was in the back, packing up whatever leftovers we had. Nana and Dom sat at the table, talking quietly with smiles on their faces. I heard Nana quietly say, “It was a good day, Dominic.”
All at once, it hit me, and a sob spilled from my aching throat. Their heads all turned, and everyone moved at once. Peter and Patrick dropped everything, running towards me, hoping to help, but instead causing me to panic. I flinched away, pressing back into Jake as the noise and the lights all became too much.
Peter turned to Jake. “What happened?”
Jake shrugged. “I don’t even know.”
Dom pushed everyone else aside, calmly and carefully taking hold of my head. “Lena. Breathe.”
“I… I… He…”
“Just breathe.” He waited until I could mimic his breathing to ask, “What happened?”
“He was in my apartment.”
Dom’s jaw clenched. “How-”
“He set out rose petals. He…” I closed my eyes tight. “He left a gift.”
The biker stood up straight. “Everyone, stay here until I come back.”
Patrick shook his head. “Fuck that. I’m coming with you.”
“Stay,” Dom growled. “Take care of her.”
And then he was gone. Nana pulled me into her arms, whispering that prayer of hers into my hair as she gently rocked me back and forth. “Breathe, habibi. I have you.”
Falling For the Devil Second Installment List (for parts 100 & up)
Warnings/tags: 18+; series contains lots of smut, fluff, angst, humor
Summary: This is a very long series/collection of one-shots about a nervous/awkward journalist Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock. Meant to feel like a realistic look into dating Matthew Murdock and all the sweet, vulnerable, sexy, and dark sides that come with him. Reader also gradually gains more confidence in and out of the bedroom as the relationship progresses.
*Apparently there's a 100 link limit per post and this bad boy is so long that I needed to make a Second Installment List for parts 100 and onwards. The first parts of the series (1-99) can be found in the First Installment List.
Summary: After witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, there’s a price on your head. It would be easy for the excellent marksman to finish the job, but something about you makes him reconsider.
Or- I saw Wilson talking about how Dex needs a weirdo freak gf and was like ‘well, yes’. Reader is implied to be neurodivergent but its kept a bit vague.
Word Count: 15.4k
Warnings & Content: no use of y/n, fluff, smut, slow burn (sorta), swearing, attempted murder, actual murder, stalking, violence, blood and injury mention, mention of death, happy ending, slight angst, toxic attachment, 18+ mdni please
I do not authorize my work to be used for Al or reposted across platforms
For most of your life you felt invisible.
Your friends and coworkers seemed to advance easily in life, getting degrees that led to solid jobs and fulfilling relationships. You, despite your best efforts, did not have the same experience.
In high school, you first became aware of your…difference. The way people would easily talk to others and make friends, but with you they would only feign politeness and share wordless looks behind your back.
Even teachers thought you were weird. It wasn’t said explicitly, they had to be professional of course, but there was only so many times they could call you ‘an interesting yet quiet young lady’ without you catching on.
You had tried hard to change it, to ‘put yourself out there’. It never worked out well. Dates would go fine at first until there was something you said or did to unnerve the other person. Even situations you were sure had gone great resulted in you being ghosted.
You wish that they at least yelled at you or complained, then you could know for sure what they didn’t like.
Once you were in your twenties, you made peace with the fact that it wouldn’t happen for you. The relationship thing wasn’t in your cards, you just weren’t built for it. It created a sad acceptance within you, but one that was needed to not go into a mental spiral.
“-ey, were you listening?” The words drifted to the forefront of your mind, dragging you away from your trail of thoughts.
You paused in folding the shirts on display before you, turning to your coworker that was looking at you expectantly.
“Uh yeah, the closing right?” You struggled to remember what Jess had walked over to you for, but you were sure it was because she needed something. Nobody really spoke to you when they didn’t need something.
“Yeah, you can do it right? I can’t do it and Marcus needs someone to cover.” Her green eyes stared at you pleadingly.
It was a request, but it didn’t feel like one. Especially since you were the only ones still working in the clothing store this late.
“Ah, I don’t-" You thought about what was waiting for you back at your apartment. A relaxing shower, the usual quick dinner, and a puzzle of choice. Not the most exhilarating routine, but you enjoyed it. You really didn’t want to close alone.
Just do it, say no. It’s not fair for you to do everything yourself and it’s not like she’ll appreciate it.
You almost did. The refusal was on the tip of your tongue when you had a flash in your head, the disappointment on her face, the awkwardness of the next shift. How she would talk about you to your other coworkers.
“Okay, I can cover.” You blurted, adverting your eyes to continue folding.
She gave you a quick grin, already turning towards the break rooms before replying, “Great! You’re a lifesaver. I’ll definitely pay you back.”
She wouldn’t, just like she didn’t for the four other times you covered her shift.
“You’re welcome.” It’s muttered with a sigh into empty air, Jess was long gone. You thought about all the unfinished work you had to do alone, already regretting your decision.
You went into autopilot for the next few hours, slipping into the mindless task of organizing displays and adjusting price tags. The small upside was that the clothes in your store kind of sucked, so you didn’t have any customers to tend to.
“You set?”
The words made you jump. You looked up in surprise to find Marcus, who had meandered out of his office without your notice. Being a middle aged man on the heftier side, you didn’t know how he could move so quietly.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“The drawer, are you ready for me to take it? I’m gonna close a little early, don’t think it’ll be picking up anytime soon.” He motioned a thick hand towards the empty room to accentuate his point.
You nodded jerkily, shuffling out the way as he unlocked the cash drawer. Another beat and a ring of keys were being tossed your way.
“We’ll, I’m gonna count this out then I’m off, you know what to do.”
Marcus was already shuffling down the hallway before you could form a response.
He wasn’t wrong, you did know what to do. Once he was gone you got back into the automatic motions of clean, lock, organize, until the shop is fully shut down.
There was no stress, no talking or loud music, it was almost fun in a way. Fun if you forgot how you were forced into working at least.
You clicked the last light off with a sigh, shrugging your purse up your shoulder where it threatened to fall off. Going out the back door sent a wave of trepidation within you, but unfortunately it was required. The alarm was already set on the front doors and you didn’t have the keys to those.
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. New York had only gotten more dangerous in recent years, with the corruption in politics and anti-vigilante outrage.
Once you were outside, you had to be careful to avoid any trouble. No one could be trusted, not even the police who were put there to protect citizens like yourself. You imagine if you got mugged on your way to the train, the officers on the corner wouldn’t even flinch.
Definitely not an anxiety inducing thought. Not at all.
You swung open the door, locking it quickly behind you. Ignoring the trembling of your hands, you started to make way to the front of the building.
The alley stunk of pee and other things you really didn’t want to identify. The only light around was motion sensor activated and perched on the doorway. Said light was already fading the further you stepped away, the alley delving into darkness.
You quickened your steps.
There was a slight relief in making it back onto the main street. At least there you had streetlights and the buzz of the city around you.
The sidewalk was mainly empty, and you could count on one hand the amount of cars that passed by. Most people out at this time were like you, getting off work, or getting to an early shift with a bleary look in their eyes.
You kept your head tucked down, avoiding eye contact with anyone around you. All you had to do was make it to the train, from there it was a straight shot to your apartment. Easy, simple. You could do this.
You reached the subway entrance, practically flying down the steps. The trains were relatively reliable in this part of town, so you shouldn’t have to wait too lon-
Your thought process was interrupted by a series of grunts, followed by a shout. Ducking behind a pillar, your eyes grew into saucers as you scanned for the cause of the noise.
It wasn’t a hard search, in the middle of the station was a group of men standing over something-no, someone. There was a man there, curled into himself on the cracked tile of the subway. You could barely make out his face past the blood streaming from his nose.
“Please! I don’t have it, I- just give me one more week I’m begging!” His words could barely be understood past a thick Brooklyn accent and the gurgle of blood in his throat.
One of the men snapped his fingers, and another kicked the whimpering man in the stomach, the impact making a sickening crunch noise.
You covered your mouth in an attempt to not scream, mind racing with options. Calling 911 was firmly out of the question, but running back up the stairs seemed promising. You just didn’t know if you’d be quick or quiet enough that they didn’t notice you.
Then there was the train. A quick glance at the schedule showed a less than three minute wait. If you timed it right…
“Please, I’ll do anything please-“
He was cut off by the man before who gave the attack order. “You should’ve thought about that before trying to steal from Moretti, fuckin’ rat. You should be grateful it’s just you and not your fucking family too, that’s how nice boss is.”
It was clear the man speaking was in charge, at least of the small group there. He was faced away from you, but a wayward glance from any of the men could put you in danger.
You stifled a gasp, sucking a sharp intake of air. In focusing on the group, you had forgotten to breathe.
Your heartbeat was a staccato in your ears, the blood flow dimming the sound around you.
They were going to kill that man, and there was nothing to do but watch. They were going to kill him, then they were going to kill you. Oh god, they were going to kill you if they found you.
You felt the telltale beginning of a panic attack start up, your heart rate escalating even further. This was not the time to freeze up. You pinched the skin of your hand between two fingers, the pain sobering you.
This was not the time to freeze.
The man was saying something else, the tone threatening. He was speaking in a much lower tone than before, and you couldn’t make out the words.
In a blink, he dove forward, hand jutting towards the man below him in quick successions.
It wasn’t until the growing pool of red that you realized he had stabbed him. There was a sick gurgling noise that reverberated around the subway that took the strength out of your legs.
Your purse slipped off your shoulder, clinking to the ground.
The sound alerted one of the guys closest to you. A frown quickly overtook his face as he looked you up and down.
“Hey! What’re you doing over there?”
This is how you’ll die, in a dirty subway all alone. Your family probably won’t even find out what happened.
Light flowed onto the platform from the incoming train. The screech of wheels flipped a switch in your brain.
No, you scrambled to your feet, not like this. You were not going to let it end like this.
You could hear a series from shouts and pounding footsteps behind you as you ran down the platform. Nearly tripping over a bench, you righted yourself as the train finally screeched to a stop.
The doors opened, but you kept running, an internal timer ticking in your head.
A little bit more… five, four, three-
You shoved your self to the side, slipping into a train car right as the doors closed. The others tried to follow, but they were too far behind.
You stared, wide eyed as they pounded on the window in anger. You could hear muffled threats behind the metal, but your eyes focused on the man from before.
He wasn’t yelling, or beating on the door. He only stared at your chest with a scowl. More specifically, the logo on your work shirt and your printed name tag beneath it.
Shit.
Dex was unbelievably, inconceivably, bored.
This meeting was already taking longer than he usually tolerated, and if he didn’t have good work with them before he would’ve left.
But no, this gang boss in particular was quite an egotistical bastard, and liked to pay a very nice penny on all his hits. It probably made him feel important to wave an excessive amount of money around and have people disappear.
Quite frankly, Dex couldn’t give a shit about what he felt. Money or not, his patience was running thin. Another five minutes waiting in this damp warehouse and he might just leave, or start throwing things.
He hadn’t decided which.
“Taking his sweet time huh?” He wasn’t really speaking to anyone in particular, just musing aloud, but one of the nearby goons replied anyway.
“Sorry, he had something else to wrap up. He should be here any second.”
Dex only clicked his teeth in response, busying his hands with a dagger absentmindedly. The other man’s eyes widened slightly at the display, tracking the dagger is it was thrown in the air.
Behind his mask, Dex’s lips flicked into a smirk. He wondered what the man would do if he started using the wall behind his head as a dart board, that would be interesting.
The seconds ticked by, and he was about to start some impromptu target practice when the man of the hour walked in.
“Bullseye, my friend! So kind of you to join us.”
Moretti was a small man, much smaller than one would expect the boss of a crime empire to be. There was nothing overtly menacing about him other than the beady gleam of his eyes. Of course, no one vocalized their surprise at that, because they’d end up at the bottom of the Hudson.
He reminded Dex of a small pet with a snappy temper. Like a rabid chihuahua nipping at people’s heels.
“I would think with all that money you’d own a clock.” The man’s words had ignited a flare of irritation within him. He was always annoyed by fake niceties, especially after he had waited thirty-five minutes.
Moretti’s thick eyebrows scrunched in faux concern, “My apologies, I had something else to finish up, I would never mean to keep you waiting-“
Dex cut in before he could finish the bullshit speech, “Who, and where?”
He was here for a job, not to have a tea party. All he needed was the marks information and the payment, then he’d be on his way.
Despite being cut off, the smaller man didn’t show any sign of anger. He knew better than to start unnecessary fights. “A small problem, you shouldn’t have much issue. It is time sensitive however, if she talks it would cause a great deal of issues for me.”
A woman then. Unlikely she’ll put up a fight. Disappointing.
“She saw some things she shouldn’t have. Here,” he stepped forward, a folded paper in his outstretched hand. “they got the job and her name, you should be able to take it from there yes?”
He snatched the paper, scanning over the information quickly before turning on his heel. “Fifteen thousand, same as before.” His voice carried behind him as he walked to the exit of the warehouse, hands in constant movement.
Moretti clapped his hands as if he were signing off on the deal. “Agreed, you’ll receive the wire tomorrow.”
“She’ll be dead by the end of the day.” Faster than anyone could track, he flicked the paper behind him, the point of a paper airplane imbedding into the forehead of the wide-eyed grunt from before.
The man let out a startled shout as blood trickled over his nose.
Dex ignored the commotion, grinning as he walked into the crisp night air.
Time to find a little tattle-tale.
Maybe you did have powers.
It wasn’t super strength, or advanced intelligence. It wasn’t even the power to turn invisible.
No, it had to be the ability to get in the worst situations imaginable. Super bad luck. No one’s life could be this laughably bleak, it had to be a higher power.
After that night at the subway, you couldn’t even sleep, much less leave your house. The day after the incident was your off day, so it didn’t affect much. You did however have to call off two days after that, feigning sickness.
You don’t know if your boss bought it, but considering you have never really taken a sick day before, you felt it was due.
But you couldn’t stay inside forever, you had to go back to work eventually. Getting fired would definitely do you no favors.
There was something else.
In the last few days you’d had a feeling, like spiders crawling over your skin. It was the sinking feeling of being preyed upon. Watched.
You knew they were there. You didn’t know how you knew, but you did.
There was no evidence, no threatening letters or anything out of place. Anyone listening to you would think you were insane, but you knew it wasn’t just your hysteria. You could feel it.
The only thing you were confused about was their inaction. Why hadn’t they killed you already? Not that you were complaining of course, but it just didn’t make sense.
Were they waiting for you to try to call the police? Were they not fully sure it was you at the station?
It was the cycle you went through. For days just driving yourself mad with questions and counting down the time. You hadn’t come up with a plan yet, but time was running out.
You had to go out into the world eventually.
The time went quicker than you expected. You had called off your fourth day when Marcus firmly hinted that your job might be in danger if you didn’t come in for your next shift.
You agreed, one last day of hiding and then you would come in.
Your hands trembled as you clicked the combination to your locker in the break room. Taking a deep breath, you took one last furtive glance at your belongings before turning to clock in.
“Didn’t know you hated customers that bad Oranges.” A mocking voice chimed behind you.
You tried to ignore him altogether, but he picked up his pace to walk by your side. “Don’t worry, I won’t snitch.” Matthew shot a conspiratorial glance your way, winking.
It took all your resolve to not roll your eyes. As if today wasn’t already horrible, you had to work with your least favorite person.
Matthew always found a way to antagonize you somehow. It wouldn’t have been that bad, if it weren’t non-stop. He always singled you out about something, with a fake friendly tone as if you were both in on the joke.
It started with the first week you started working. You were eating your lunch quietly, and as you started to unpeel the included orange a stream of juice shot at your face.
You could only sit there in mortification as Matthew cackled in your face. He insisted on calling you Oranges after that.
“What are we so worried about?” He continued, like you weren’t ignoring him. “If you need to relax I think they have a stress ball in the back rooms. I know you have issues with that stuff.” He could barely get out the words without laughing.
More silence from you.
“Alright then. Don’t blame me if you freak out, see ya Oranges.”
You let out a relieved sigh at his retreating frame, grabbing the clothing rack near you and resigning yourself to eight hours of torture.
Your neck let out a series of pops as you stretched it in your doorway. The house keys in your hand were tossed in the dish by the door and your jacket was shrugged off your shoulders into a pile on the ground.
“You should take better care of your things.”
The words stopped you in your tracks. You’d been so focused on the aches in your body and getting to the shower, you failed to notice the large figure in your living room until they spoke.
There was a man shrouded in shadow sitting on your lounge chair. In his hands was one of your puzzle boxes, and he seemed to be reading over it like it was the most important thing in the room.
“Please don’t.” You could barely recognize the way your voice squeaked out, strained with fear.
He looked up for the first time, eyes glinting behind a blue ski mask. “Don’t what?” His voice was deep but scratchy as it travelled across the room, as if he’d worn it out by yelling.
You could also hear a hint of amusement in his tone. He was enjoying toying with you.
“Don’t mess up my puzzles, or my apartment please. If you can, make it quick.” Your reply was more stable than before, having overcome the initial shock of his appearance.
In truth, you’d come to the conclusion you’d probably die no matter what days ago. At first, you were scared out of your mind, but like every other bad hand in your life, you accepted it. You just didn’t want whoever found you to have to deal with a mess.
His head tilted as if considering your answer, one finger twirling the box like one would do a basketball. “Not gonna beg for your life? Plead for another chance?” There was still the mocking tone, but now it carried confusion as well. He genuinely couldn’t understand why you were so calm.
Taking careful steps over to the couch, you could make out more details of him in the light of your living room lamp. He looked like a textbook assassin, wearing all black, save for the blue mask covering his face. The dark fabric of his ensemble held more compartments you could count, and the rest was stretched over a sturdy frame.
He was leaning back in your recliner chair leisurely, legs spread to take up even more space.
You let out a deep sigh as you flounced down on the couch across from him. “No, not really. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but it’s not much to plead for.”
He stopped spinning the box and looked around, as if taking in the apartment for the first time. Your lack of personal photos, the books and puzzles lining the walls. Every item spoke of a very monotonous lifestyle. “This is pretty depressing, yes.”
Of course, what were you expecting? Hopefully he doesn’t make it too difficult for anyone to clean your blood out the place.
You nodded in acceptance and closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable. After about a minute of waiting, you opened them to find him staring at you.
The piercing gaze kept you still until he spoke again, “What’re you doing?”
‘Waiting for you to kill me’ just sounded silly, so you said nothing, adverting your gaze.
After a few more moments of quiet, you cleared your throat, “If you don’t mind, how long have you been in here?”
It was a morbid curiosity that drove the question. The idea of him waiting in your living room just to kill you, twiddling his thumbs was enough to make a sardonic chuckle rise in your throat.
You pushed down the urge. The man seemed fairly calm so far, but laughing at him definitely would do nothing in your favor.
He reached up a gloved hand, scratching at his jaw. “About a half hour.”
You blinked, “Oh, okay.”
Quite frankly, you were running out of things to say. How does one even strike up a conversation with their killer? You shouldn’t have even felt the need to make the man comfortable, but you did for some reason.
In a flash he was leaning over you, one hand on the back of the couch to speak directly in your face. “What’s your problem? Hm? You didn’t even do anything wrong and you won’t fight for your life? How is that fair?”
His other hand gripped your chin firmly, you could feel the warmth of the of his hand seeping through the fabric. With his face so close, you could see every detail of his brown eyes scrunched in anger.
You could also see more of the little items strapped around his waist and in the compartments of his pants. Knives. More knives than anyone (murderer or not) should need, in your opinion.
“I’m sorry?” Now you were a bit peeved. Who was he to lecture you about valuing your life when he came in here to kill you?
Unless… he wasn’t here to kill you, but do something much worse. A new flash of fear goes through you. You were prepared for a quick death, you were not prepared for torture, or the other ways a man could hurt a woman.
He must’ve seen the change in your face, because the hand on your chin swiftly dropped to his side.
He moved slightly out of your space, mumbling to himself. You could barely catch the words ‘balance’ and ‘worth it’ in the rambling.
“Okay,” he dipped away, back to the chair. “okay.”
You blinked at him again, “Okay?”
“Yes.” His tone, despite being amused again, invited no further questioning. He had reached a decision within himself, you just had no idea what that decision was.
With that, he settled back into your chair with all the ease in the world.
“You should go to sleep now. Been a long day.” Like before, his tone was closed off. What might’ve been misinterpreted as a request was definitely a demand.
You slowly rose to your feet, half convinced it was a trick and he’d shoot you at any moment, but nothing stopped you from gathering your bag and going into the bedroom.
Even as you shut and locked the door, there was no action, just a glinting gaze following you in the darkness.
You didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing you recall was the unnerving conversation with the intruder before jerking awake the next morning.
A quick check showed that none of your clothes had been moved and there were no injuries on you. Despite your hair looking like a birds nest, you looked exactly did after work the day prior.
You were alive. Another day knowing someone was out to get you, and another day of being able to do nothing about it.
You groaned, trying to settle your hair with one hand as you rolled out the bed. Washing up in the bathroom was quick business. After feeling clean again in new clothes you moved to unlock the bedroom door.
Wait. He wouldn’t still be here, would he?
You highly doubt the intruder would stay for coffee in he morning, but the whole thing had been so strange you couldn’t rule anything out.
Slowly, you pressed an ear to the door, straining to hear anything on the other side.
Nothing.
You un-clicked the lock, still moving at a snails pace. Once there was a half inch sliver open, you took a peek into the living room. Empty, no homicidal men with a hundred knives in sight.
You let out a breath of relief, walking into the room. One last search throughout your place proved that there was truly no one there.
Even so, there was an unsettling feeling you couldn’t shake. You ignored it, moving to start up your coffee maker.
It wasn’t until you were halfway through your breakfast that you realized the issue. Your place was spotless, much cleaner than you’d usually keep it.
You didn't consider yourself a slob, but there was always little things here and there left behind. A few dishes in the sink, a bit of dust. The room was now so clean it looked clinical.
Every can or box of pasta in your cabinet was neatly organized and turned to the front. Swinging open the door to your fridge, you found that all your old food you’d been ignoring was thrown away. Each shelf was sparkling clean and just as orderly as the cabinets.
All your puzzle boxes were in straight, dust free columns next to books sorted by size.
What the hell is happening?
It’s just because you’ve been bored. Nothing else.
Dex had been rationalizing his actions since that first day. He had yet to come up with a solid reason for letting you live, and it sent a distressing feeling up his spine.
He did not do things for no reason.
That was a quick way to spiral, to sink into nothing. No, everything in his life had a reason and purpose. So what were you?
It started the day after the meeting with Moretti, he was poised just across from your window. There was a bolt-action rifle in his hands, and he was perfectly poised to take the shot as promised.
As he watched, you walked around your bedroom in circles. He could see your mouth moving at certain points, but no sign of you talking on the phone. It was clear you were in distress, but made no attempts to get help.
He already had access to your phone line. Throughout the night into the next day, you didn’t try calling the police, not even once.
It seems New York is catching on, those scrubs in uniforms can’t help you. If you want justice, you have to take it yourself.
He continued to watch you with a detached expression, not taking the time to consider why he hadn’t finished the job yet.
He watched as you left to take a shower, coming back a bit later in loose pajamas. He watched as you put a show on your tv, your distracted expression half aware.
You eventually found the television insufficient at calming you, and started digging through the haphazard boxes of puzzles on your shelves.
His fingers practically itched at seeing it, old habits compelling him to march in there and line everything up neatly.
He shook it off, eyes trailing to where you sat on the floor beginning the edges of a very large landscape puzzle.
You were losing yourself in it, the frown in your eyebrows lessening the more progress you made through the picture. Eventually, you had calmed enough that there was almost a smile tilting your mouth.
His eyes stayed there for a moment, wondering what a full smile from you would look like. He definitely hadn’t seen one today, and no search online showed any pictures of you exhibiting anything other than mild discomfort or apathy.
He could almost imagine it, the plush of your lips tilting up, then slowly growing. How your eyes would crinkle, glinting up at him.
At him?
At him?
The fuck was he doing?
He had a job to do, a job he was paid quite handsomely over, and he was sitting here on his ass playing make believe.
He whipped the rifle in position, capturing your face in the scope. He didn’t really need it, your shot was clear enough, especially with his abilities.
Even though it was simple, the clearest shot in the world, his fingers never pressed the trigger. He sat there, as the sky darkened into reds and melted into a dark navy, never taking a single shot.
He couldn’t even pretend that the sick worm inside of him wasn’t hungry for more. He didn’t try to act like he wasn’t coming back the next day.
He thought that would be enough. One more day of observation would be enough to satiate him. Just one more.
Dex felt like the sad sons of bitches at the liquor store on the corner. Just one more bit, I can quit any time I want to.
But he did need just one more bit, and he could quit any time he needed to. This was nothing like Jul-
He broke that train of thought with a snarl. Tonight. Tonight he would end this game and get it over with. She got off work at ten, and when she did he’d be waiting there. After that, it be simple, one shot to the head and she wouldn’t be his problem anymore.
Moretti didn’t exactly ask for proof of delivery, nobody was stupid enough to question Dex after he worked a job. If he said he did it, then he did it.
Except he didn’t do it. Moretti hadn’t asked, and he didn’t tell. But the man wasn’t an idiot, he’d find out eventually.
Even more reason to get rid of you as soon as possible.
He had the plan solidly in his mind. Wait until you walked in with your guard down, lodge a knife in your throat before you could blink.
This night, you took a bit longer than usual. Dex was dully aware that this didn’t bother him. He wasn’t upset by waiting, there was a tingling anticipation within him.
Eventually, you walked through the door, shutting it behind you with a click. You didn’t notice him at first, stretching out your neck and the muscles in your back.
You dropped your coat to the ground, stepping over it without a second glance. You were still shifting your head from side to side, trying to alleviate some tension.
He would be able to do it almost immediately. With his hands on your neck he could target the exact points of your muscle pain. His index finger flinched at the thought.
His eyes flickered to the flash of skin on the side of your neck, words coming out of his mouth before he could recall the plan he came in with.
He was barely even aware of what he said, just your response. He watched with rapt attention as your eyes widened, taking him in.
As your eyes scanned his frame, he could feel his hips shift forward slightly.
A myriad of expressions flickered through your face, fear, surprise, anger. He took them all in with delight. The buzz of anticipation from before rose to a crescendo, he couldn’t wait to see what you’d do.
Would you beg? Offer to pay him for your life?
Despite coming in your apartment with a clear directive, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d do if you asked him to spare your life.
Not important, focus.
You didn’t do anything he expected. Instead of a blubbering mess, you were composed, if not a little annoyed.
If he didn’t already know it before, it was clear you valued your small possessions. You seemed to care about the puzzles more than your own life.
It made him angry.
Who were you to throw him off? Why were you doing this to him? This is not how this was supposed to go.
He got within a hairsbreadth of your face, trying to intimidate you. Break the facade. It didn’t work, you only seemed more annoyed by the attempt.
Until you weren’t. Something about his stance towering over you seemed to ignite a thought process. He wasn’t a mind reader, but he could tell the cause of your discomfort pretty easily.
He let you go quickly, as if he were burned. He would not hurt you, not like that.
Dex weighed his options. Killing you would make things a lot simpler, both with Moretti and the urges in his mind. This is what he knew best, the only real thing he’s good for. You would be no problem to take care of.
Only issue? The more he thought about putting a bullet in your head, the more he was sure that was the last thing he wanted to do.
This wasn’t even his typical area. The snitches he usually tracked down had blood on their hands, a dark past they were scrambling to escape.
You weren’t necessarily a good person, you didn’t volunteer at food drives or regularly give to charity, but nothing warranted your death. There was no scale for him to equal.
You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He’d reached his decision. Fuck Moretti, he’d deal with that weasel bitch later. For now, he’d have to get you shuffled off to bed.
There was something he was itching to do since he got there.
He didn’t show up that day.
Your off day was spent with anxious anticipation, like he would randomly jump out of your cabinets and scare you shitless.
Despite your worry (hope), Knives never showed. You took a page out of Matthew’s book and gave him a nickname, if only to avoid calling him ‘the man’ in your head.
The more you thought about it, the more perplexed you were.
A masked killer came into your home, had a fairly civil conversation with you, then did your chores?
No matter how much you thought about it, none of that made sense. You should have been dead days ago. If they decided not to kill you, they should at least know by now you weren’t going to snitch.
You didn’t even consider calling the police.
You groaned, head tilting back against your apartment elevator. Your day at work had been relatively uneventful.
Nobody really spoke to you much, sans Matthew who always had something to say. This time about your dark circles and whether or not you had a mental breakdown. And he wondered why his girlfriend left him.
You crack open bleary eyes to look at yourself in the metal walls and wince. Maybe they had a point, you wouldn’t talk to yourself either looking like this.
There was prominent darkness under your eyes, framing the haunted look within them. Your face was pinched in a permanent frown, and you lifted up a hand to relax the expression.
The elevator doors opened with a ding, and you started the trek over to your door. You raised a hand to unlock it, pausing half way.
Putting your keys back in your pocket, you tried the handle of your door. It opened easily.
Your heartbeat quickened but you didn’t halt your movement, continuing inside the apartment. Everything was just like you left it earlier, dim lights and the tv on as background noise.
You took slow steps to the center of the room, spinning in a circle. He wasn’t there.
The living room and kitchen were both empty, and you didn’t know whether to be happy about that or not.
Why would he just leave your door unlocked when he wasn’t even here? There were robbers in the area, what if someone happened to try your door?
You ran a hand through your hair, barking a laugh. You had forgotten for a moment who he was. He was not a friend or visitor that would care whether or not you were robbed.
But why would he clean your house then?
You weren’t sure if you’d ever find the answer to that last question.
Still on edge, you tip toed towards your couch, where you unceremoniously dumped your bag and coat. Stretching out your shoulders, you walked towards the bedroom.
You were expecting a boiling shower with warm pajamas to slip into before crashing. You were not expecting a six-foot something man to be leaning over your bedside drawer, rifling through its contents.
“Hey!” You said, equally in surprise and indignation. “That’s private. Put that down.”
Brown eyes flicked up to you from where he’d been reading your notebook. It wasn’t a diary per se, but it held some personal thoughts you’d rather stayed private.
Knives leisurely sat the book on your bed, putting up his hands in faux surrender. “Were you looking for me?”
His voice was just as gravelly as the first night, snaking over your ears. It was much lighter however, he sounded almost… happy?
You cleared your throat, fighting back a shiver. “What?” Did he see you searching your apartment like a goof? Probably.
You could see his lips curl into a smirk beneath the mask, capturing your attention for a moment.
You wondered what he would look like without it.
You could see more of him in the daylight, like the light eyelashes framing his eyes and the similar tone of his eyebrows. The mask was filled out with a sharp frame, and you could see the cut of prominent cheekbones under the fabric.
“Nothing. What’s that about?” He nodded towards your notebook he had been reading.
He was still holding his hands up, for what you had no idea. Maybe he thought it was funny to act like you were the one in power here.
“It’s a notebook, you write in them.” You didn’t care to go over your innermost thoughts with a stranger, briskly avoiding the subject.
His eyes flashed in an emotion you couldn’t place, hands finally coming down to rest at his sides. “How was work?” He asked placidly.
What?
The hell?
Your eyes burned with tears that had yet to fall, sucking in a sharp breath to compose yourself. “Haven’t you had enough? I have been waiting for the day you finally-“ you waved your hands around animatedly. “And then you just-“
He only stared on with the same solid expression.
You took another breath, “Are you going to kill me or not?”
“No.”
You swore you could feel your heartbeat hiccup, “No?”
Before you could pull it back, the words were out of your mouth. “Why not?”
You regretted the question immediately, watching as his eyes darkened.
There was a stretch of silence, and you were wondering how to do damage control when he spoke again, “Because I don’t want to. You…”
His gaze rakes up and down your frame. “You aren’t my North Star, no, something else. I want to find out what you are.”
Your words were little more than a whisper. “What I am?”
He sauntered towards you, slow as if walking towards a spooked animal. Or like he was hunting one. He only stopped once he was directly in front of you, toe to toe.
“Yes, I’m going to watch you and learn you. Why I feel this urge to-“ he cuts off abruptly, eyes widened in surprise.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
It seems like he wasn’t even prepared for what the answer was.
You stared at him, heartbeat still thundering in your ears. It was silly to believe a masked intruder from his words, but you did.
Nothing about that seemed like a lie. Despite what he’d initially found you for, he didn’t look like he wanted you dead. So, you believed him.
Your only worry was what he would do with you.
“O-Okay.” Was all you said before grabbing your clothes out the dresser and locking yourself in the bathroom.
You could only hope you turned fast enough that he didn’t see the redness in your face.
He was gone from the bedroom when you got out the shower. Everything was put back in its place, there was no sign of him. It made you wonder how many times he looked through your things without you knowing.
It should’ve made you unnerved… it didn’t.
He said he wanted to learn you. That you weren’t a north star. What did that mean? Why were you kind of excited about finding out?
You sniffed the air, there was a smell drifting from your kitchen filled with spices and butter. Like it were activated, your stomach suddenly released a large growl.
It seemed no matter how shocked you could get, there were still more surprises, Knives was at the stove, stirring something in a pot. You could see your oven was on as well, the light showing loaves of garlic bread on a sheet inside.
“You should go start a puzzle, it’ll be another five minutes.” He spoke without turning around, still continuing to stir the pot on the stove.
There’s a breaking point in a persons life where they stop asking questions. You were at that point.
So you pushed aside the wonder of why he was cooking, or where he even got the ingredients from, and sat down in your lounge chair.
You froze. It smelled like him. Gunpowder and metal, with a tinge of spearmint, the chairs leather still held a hint of him. You wondered how many times you could breathe it in without him noticing.
He was still focused on the food…
No. Stop. Get yourself together. You can’t just turn into a weirdo at the first attractive man you meet. Who’s to say he’s even attractive? He could be hideous under that mask.
You glanced over at him, eyeing the broadness of his shoulders and the muscle shifting under cloth.
You didn’t notice before, but he had taken off his gloves. His hands were big but deft, he probably would’ve made a good piano player in another life.
The evidence of this life was there as well. White scars marred his hands and trailed up his forearm to disappear under his shirt sleeve. You had no doubt they continued to the rest of his body too.
You tried to remind yourself of what those hands could do, why they were dangerous. Unfortunately your brain didn’t think it was that important at the moment, because the only thing you could remember is how they felt on your face.
You shook off the thoughts, blindly grabbing the closest puzzle box to you, it was a city landscape.
The pieces tumbled onto your living room table, sound echoing throughout the apartment. The only other sound past your moving pieces was the crackle of fire in the kitchen.
You needed some background noise.
You clicked on the tv, the low droning of the weather report filling the empty space. The screen had half your attention, but that was enough for your ears to perk when you heard the next segment of the news.
“And here we have the aftermath of another brawl from the vigilante known as Daredevil, he was in this very warehouse last night when the reports of gunfire started-“
The newscaster was one you’d seen before, usually for the more serious cases around the city. Her mouth was set in a hard line as she continued her warning.
“-advising all citizens to report any vigilante activity to the NYPD or AVTF whenever you become aware. If you do encounter Daredevil, do not engage-“
The tv went out in a wink, making you flinch. Like a bullet, a flying quarter had hit the power button dead center on your remote. Didn’t need many guesses to know where it came from.
The man in question was sauntering over with a steaming plate, glaring at the tv like it had personally offended him.
“You could’ve just asked me to turn it off.” You mutter, loud enough for him to hear you.
He didn’t answer, setting the plate in front of you with a clink. “Eat.”
You looked from him to the plate of food, then back again. It looked wonderful, a creamy heap of pasta with sautéed vegetables and garlic bread. It was all neatly arranged on your only kitchenware you hadn’t chipped.
You only wondered why the hell he had cooked it.
He seemed to misread your trepidation, leaning down to tug up a corner of his mask and shovel in a bit of the pasta. “Not poisoned. Not my style.” He said after a thick swallow.
The flash of lips, regardless how quick, distracted you. You stared on as a pink tongue flicked out to swipe at his mouth before he tugged the mask back down. It took you another few seconds to get it together.
“I know. You prefer to give people a million paper cuts.”
To your surprise, knives barked out a laugh, “That’s one way of putting it, sure.”
You turned to the food and started eating in an attempt to bypass the awkwardness. It was hard to suppress a groan when the first bit hit your mouth, the food was as good as it looked. If not better.
Do all hitmen take culinary classes or was it just his hobby?
You thought he would find something else to do, maybe vanish into thin air like he’d never been there at all, but the man chose to sit right across from you on the couch.
Dark eyes fixated on you as you ate in complete focus. He didn’t seem to want more conversation, just be a spectator. His only movement was circling a small knife around in his hand, but the movement didn’t seem threatening, more absentminded than anything else.
You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you were finishing the meal in record time, only clearing your throat to speak once you’d cleared the last bite, “It was great, thank you.”
He was grabbing the plate from you before you could even offer to clean up, making his way back to the kitchen and placing it inside your dishwasher with the other used pots and pans.
“Really, you don’t have to-“ you started, but he was already finished and walking back over to you.
“I know. I don’t have to do anything at all, advantages of self employment.” It was clear by his tone and the crinkle of his eyes that he was smirking. He took his time walking back to the couch, this time spreading his arms across the back in the appearance of complete comfortability.
What he said made you curious, “You don’t work for the man at the train?”
He tilted his head as if considering the answer. “I don’t work for anyone,” a new tinge of bitterness coated his tone, “but if you’re referring to the bozo who took a hit out on you, yes. I was the one given the assignment.”
“Ah, I figured.” The response came out more nonchalant than intended, but he truly didn’t tell you anything you hadn’t already suspected.
“You’re not bothered by that?”
You shrugged, “Nah, I trust you.” You meant for it to be fully sarcastic, and almost succeeded, but there was a bit of honesty that shone through. Against all better judgement and sound mind, you did trust him.
He stared at you, only providing a small scoff and muttering under his breath as response.
With the newfound silence, you decided to follow his earlier request and complete the puzzle that was started. You almost invited him to do it with you, but your mouth closed with a snap after looking over at him.
He seemed to be lost in thought about something, dark blonde eyebrows furrowed as he stared somewhere out your window.
Your eyes went back to the puzzle, the only sounds being the soft scrape of the pieces and faint breathing. You grimaced while reaching for some of the further pieces, the movement had aggravated the neck pain you usually had after a long shift.
Rolling your neck in a circle only slightly helped, there was still a crick in the muscle that most likely wouldn’t go away until after a lengthy soak in epsom salt.
Your distracted mind was only half aware of the other figure rising from the couch and making his way over to you.
“Sit back.”
You looked behind you in surprise, wondering how he’d gotten right behind your chair without you knowing. “Why?” You weren’t really concerned about the request, just curious what he intended.
“I can’t keep watching you do that without doing something. Sit back.” He tapped the headrest for emphasis.
Okay, bossy.
You rolled your eyes but did as he asked, sliding back to fully rest in the chair. It was a moment of nothing until you felt warmth against your shoulder blades.
You let out a full body flinch at the contact, but his hands didn’t falter, continuing a path from your shoulders into the sides of your neck. Strong thumbs dug into the muscles and nerves causing you pain, and you couldn’t keep a satisfied sigh from seeping out.
You practically melted into his hands as they traveled over every aching part of your back. Every time he dispelled a knot it knocked a quiet sound out of you.
It was firm but precise, every drag of his warm calloused hands left a tingling sensation in their wake. You couldn’t help but think about what else his hands could do…
The idea created a burning within you. The smell and feel of him so close was dangerous, and you were already wanting more of it. Needing more of it. You were absently aware of his breathing kicking up, almost delving into a pant in your ears.
He eventually slowed down, rubbing his fingers in circular motions on the top of your spine before retreating completely. He didn’t retreat too far, barely taking a step back as he stood behind your chair.
You didn’t look at him, focusing on calming your breathing and not appearing like the mess you were on the inside. You didn’t need a mirror to know your the flushed expression you wore.
You opened your mouth, then closed it, not trusting yourself to beg for his hands to touch you again.
He spoke before you could work up the nerve of a response, “I have to go.”
“Wait-” But it was too late, he was already closing the front door when you turned around.
Knives arrived more frequently after that night.
He didn’t stay as long, or touch you again, (much to your disappointment) but he would usually pop in without rhyme or reason with gifts and a bit of conversation.
You never asked him for anything, but he somehow always knew what you needed.
A new detergent when the old one just ran out, some more butter in the fridge, your favorite ice cream when you were craving it.
As far as you remembered, you never told him what your favorite flavor was, nor did you ever have one in the freezer since meeting him. He still knew.
Someone knowing so much about you should’ve probably unnerved you, but it only gave you a sense of serenity. You didn’t have to worry about explaining yourself to him, there was no pressure on your end. He just watched, and learned.
Except in one area. He seemed to be oblivious to your attraction to him, not flirting with you even once. There were his snarky remarks and knowing smirks sure, but that seemed to be less hitting on you and just more of who he was.
Unless, he does know you’re into him and just doesn’t feel the same so he’s ignoring it.
You brushed the thought off, sighing as you unlocked the door to your apartment. It was really no use wondering about it, even with all the time spent with Knives, you barely had a clue what was going on in his head.
Besides, after the day you’d had it was hard to think about anything else.
To say it was a bad shift would be an understatement. You’d overslept that morning, rushing through your morning routine but still arriving twenty-five minutes late to clock in.
It was a rare busy day in the store, and you could barely push past people to get to your register.
“About time.” Matthew shot you a dirty look between filing away the bills in his hand.
Your job was severely understaffed, and today was no different, which meant that in your absence Matthew had to handle the hordes of people on his own.
You gave him an apologetic nod, waving the next person in line over to you. Soon enough, the lines dwindled into nothing as the rush passed.
You wiped your sweaty hands on your pants leg, signing out of the POS to go work on other things. A stack of boxes caught your eye, and you moved closer to start unpacking the items inside.
“Go do the inventory. He wants it in the front on the orange display.” Snapped Matthew behind you. He was pointing at the very boxes you were already walking towards.
You didn’t bother correcting him in saying you were already going to do that, instead giving a curt nod.
“What, you can’t speak today? Didn’t take your meds?” He raised a brow, grinning at you.
Breathe, don’t let him get to you.
“I’m just going to do my job.”
His grin only widened at your answer. “Heh, okay. You do that.”
You ignored him, quickly pulling a dolly from the back transport the boxes to the front of the store.
You wiped a hand over your brow, starting to sweat with the effort. It would be a lot easier with two people, but like hell you were going to ask that asshole.
Matthew wasn’t really nice to anyone, except maybe the new hires he wanted to flirt with, but you still never understood why he seemed to hate you so much.
Because you’re always the odd man out, the one no one really likes, the one-
“Shut up.” You spat out the words, making sure you were quiet enough for no one else to hear. Matthew didn’t need more ammunition to call you crazy.
You directed your attention to the store display and away from your bleak thoughts. You couldn’t help what others thought of you, the only thing you could do at the moment was finish the stupid display and move onto your other work.
You vacantly slapped the folded clothes onto the shelves, mind drifting elsewhere.
I bet knives never had to work in retail.
You’d be very surprised if he ever had a real job before. Trying to imagine his scowling face behind a cash register made a chuckle bubble within you.
He’d probably stab someone on his first day.
Shit, he can stab Matthew for all I care.
You half scolded yourself at the thought, realizing how fucked up it sounded to wish that someone stab your coworker. You weren’t as upset by the thought as you could’ve been.
There was a sharp creaking noise, and before you could react, the metal shelf you had been stacking on crashed down on your arm.
“Shit-” You jumped back to avoid falling with it, but the damage had been done. The edge of the shelf dug a cut down your forearm that was already spurting blood over you and the merchandise.
“Oh no, shit, shit, shit-” You couldn’t think straight, only standing there in a panic as you gripped your bloody arm.
“What the fuck did you do now?” If you thought Matthew was mad at you before, he was pissed now. “I asked you to do one simple thing and you can’t even do that? Who’s gonna clean this shit up?”
He’d left a customer at the desk to see what the sound was, but he didn’t seem to care about their existence as he yelled at you.
“Fuckin disability hire, can’t even stock a shelf. I don’t know why you’re standing there, you should be-”
You didn’t wait for him to finish, bumping into him as you rushed towards the back room with tears in your eyes.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry in front of him, he’s not worth it.
You ignored his calls for you to come back, slamming your work locker open and grabbing your things. You didn’t even bother clocking out, only stopping by the lunch corner to grab paper towels and wipe down your arm.
The harsh wind from outside only aggravated your eyes more, but you steeled yourself against the cold.
You got plenty weird looks on the train ride home, but nobody said anything to you. It was probably the mix of blood staining your hands and scowl that discouraged conversation.
A ten minute ride followed by a brisk walk brought you back to where you were, standing at your apartment door with an aching cut.
You shouldered the door open with your uninjured side, immediately dropping your things to the ground once you were inside.
The cut hurt like a bitch and was still freely bleeding, but you shouldn’t need stitches or anything dramatic. The med kit from under your sink in the bathroom should more than suffice.
You turned the corner towards the bathroom, but stopped short at the figure standing there.
The visitor was more expected than not these days, but you didn’t think he’d be here this early since he usually met you after your shift.
“What did I say about taking care of your things?” He half turned from the window where you assumed he’d watched you come in.
You’d usually muster up something equally as playful in response, but this time, you were not in the mood.
He seemed to sense the shift, whipping his head over to you. It didn’t take long for his eyes to rake over you, gaze landing on your right arm.
“Who did that?” His demeanor changed completely after seeing the injury, voice turning steely.
It only took a few strides for him to reach you, hand snapping out to grasp your forearm. His eyes were blazing with anger behind his mask and he looked two seconds away from disemboweling someone.
Even though you knew his anger wasn’t with you; it still took a moment to stutter out a response, “No one, I-i did it myself. Well, not did it, it wasn’t on purpose. An accident at work.”
Your clarification didn’t seem to calm him much.
He stepped to your side, scooping an arm under your legs to pull you to his chest, his other arm supporting your back. He walked towards your bathroom with purpose.
You let out a squawk of surprise at being airborne, “Hey, I can still walk. It’s just a cut, you don’t have to carry me.”
“Blood loss causes dizziness, and it looks like you’ve already lost too much.” Someone would’ve thought you were bleeding out by how aggravated he sounded.
You didn’t want to mention that the main reason you were dizzy was his close proximity, not the injury. You were closer to him than you ever were before, and you couldn’t stop yourself from taking in a deep whiff. Blood, metal, mint.
He knocked your bathroom door open with enough strength to make it rattle, marching over to your closed toilet where he set you down gently but firmly.
As always, he knew where you put everything, so you didn’t have to direct him as he pulled out your small med kit.
It was just the buzz of the fluorescent lights for noise as he rummaged through the kit, occasionally pulling out select items he’d need.
You watched as hazel eyes narrowed in concentration, stomach doing a flip at how focused he was on helping you. How caring.
There was a mix of disinfectant and many bandages on the counter (more than you’d probably need), and he looked over them quickly before washing his hands and snapping on latex gloves.
“It’s going to hurt, you can hold onto me if you need to.” Was the only warning you got before he was gripping your arm with one hand and wiping down the cut with the other.
The antibacterial liquid was cold and stinging, you let out a sharp hiss at the stab of pain. As the blood was cleaned away, you could see that the cut was a bit deeper than you thought.
“I-ah, you don’t think I’ll need stitches, right?” You were a bit scared to ask, his frown had only deepened once he started working on you.
“No. It’s not to that point, but you’ll need to keep it wrapped tightly for a while so the skin can join back together.”
And he was right, after cleaning the wound thoroughly, he stuck some hefty bandages over the opening and wrapped it all in a tight cover of gauze.
He tucked the end of the fabric inside to secure it, and tugged off his gloves to clear away the mess of dirty wipes and wrappers on the counter.
You didn’t bother thanking him, knowing by now that he wouldn’t accept it.
You looked down at his work, neat as usual. You startled as a pill bottle was being shaken in front of you, eyes focusing to read the label.
“It doesn’t really hurt that much.”
He shook it again, insisting, “It will later, take one.”
You knew there was no chance of changing his mind, and it didn’t seem like the worst idea, so you grabbed the container and swallowed down one of the pills.
Satisfied, Knives leaned back against the wall opposite you, muscular arms folded over his chest.
Despite his quietness, you could still sense the underlying anger rolling off him. Knowing the answer, you asked anyway, “Are you upset?”
“Explain what happened.”
You hesitated for a moment, then started the retelling of what happened that day. You kept your composure for the most part, voice only hitching when you repeated what your coworker had said about you.
Knives stood stock still through it all, watching with that calm dangerous air that he had.
By the time you were done, you felt the telltale signs of tears, but you pushed it down again. You didn’t want it to bother you, but it did. After a life of dealing with rejection, it still stung.
A warm hand lifted up your chin, thumb swiping away tears you weren’t aware had fallen. “You don’t deserve that, none of it. It won’t happen again.” There wasn’t an ounce of question in his tone, he was sure of it.
You let out a weak laugh, sniffling. “I could only hope, he’ll probably be worse after today though. Especially since I left early.”
He hummed, “I’ve always disliked the name Mathew, all of them are annoying.” He sounded like he usually did again, slightly amused as if he were in on a joke that you weren’t.
You laughed again, stronger this time. “I can’t say I’ve had experience with that many Matthew’s to agree with you.”
He ran his thumb over your cheek one more time before backing away. “Trust me, they are. You should take tomorrow off.”
There he goes again, giving demands veiled as suggestions.
“I would love to, but unfortunately some of us common folk need jobs, and if I call out again I’ll probably be u employed. I’m sure you’ve never worked one, so it’s hard to understand.” Your tone is playfully mocking, but it’s the truth. There was no way your manager was going to be okay with that, plus, you needed to make up for the money lost by leaving early.
“I have.” He adverts his eyes to your left, “worked a job that is.”
You perked up, it was rare that the man offered information past what model his knives were, and you didn’t want to lose the opportunity to learn more about him.
“Oh really? As what?” You kept your tone light, to not seem like you were prying.
“An officer.”
“Like, a police officer?”
“No. Not exactly.”
You blinked in confusion.
He shifted in his stance, like the conversation was suddenly making him uncomfortable. “Agent, would be the better term. I-” He paused, finding the right words. “I locked away the monsters of the world, and protected the people I needed to.”
You cocked a brow, “So, you were a spy?”
He huffed, giving you a look. “No. How the hell did you get spy out of that?”
“You are amazingly vague at every answer, I figured it would fit.” You shrugged, wincing when the movement aggravated the skin of your arm.
He zoned in on the expression, eyes narrowing again. “You should go to bed, especially if you’re insisting on going to work tomorrow.”
It was clear that was all the answers you’d get out of him, this night at least. You let out a huff of breath, using the counter to pull yourself into a standing position.
There was a wave of wooziness, and you fought to keep balance. Clearly the pill was doing its job.
An arm snaked around to your back, steadying you as you walked to your bedroom. As if there were an invisible barrier, he stopped at the threshold. In the dim lighting, you could only see the dark outline of him and the glint of metal strapped to his person.
To anyone else it would be menacing, terrifying even, to have the attention of the killer focused on them. You only craved more of it.
“There’s soup in your fridge if you want it. Change the wrapping in the morning, it shouldn’t cause any issues before then.”
You could only blame the strength of the pain pill for your lack of restraint, “Do you have to leave right now?”
A pause. “I do. I have something else to take care of.”
You tried not to take it as a dismissal, but it hurt nonetheless.
Something else. Not you.
“Right, okay.” The disappointment was obvious in your voice.
Steady steps made their way over to your bedside, “I don’t want to, but are some things I need to do. I’ll see you soon.”
You could barely make out the shape of him standing over you, drowsiness and the pain medicine muddling things together. “Aye, aye captian.”
A deep chuckle, and then a quiet response, “Dex.”
Dex. It suits him. You couldn’t tell if you’d said the name aloud or in your head, already giving way to unconsciousness.
The last thing you felt was a hand lightly trailing down your face before blackness.
Other than feeling like a sledgehammer hit you, your next day at work was uncharacteristically peaceful.
Even though Matthew was scheduled alongside you for the week, he never showed up for work that day.
Or the next day. Or the next one after that.
He didn’t call out, and based on the grumble from your manager, hadn’t quit either.
You never said anything, never even thought the words in your head, but you knew what happened.
If you were really honest with yourself, you knew what was going to happen when you heard the assurance in his voice that you wouldn’t have any more problems.
Kni-No-Dex, was a killer, regardless of how he treated you. You knew how he solved problems.
You were a little nervous at how little it bothered you. You had the same tingling feeling you got when he replaced one of the lightbulbs in your apartment without asking.
Cared for.
But there was another problem, Dex was nowhere to be seen either. He’d never shown up again after that night, and you were starting to get concerned.
Even though he didn’t show up every single day, missing several days in a row was out of character for him. You could only hope that he wasn’t dead or arrested somewhere.
It seemed silly to worry about him, especially with how competent he seemed. You didn’t steadily watch the news, but everyone in the city had heard of a man in a blue mask who could lodge a knife in your head faster than you could blink.
Bullseye.
He’d never told you it was him, but you weren’t an idiot, all the traits aligned. Not to mention his name, Dex, most likely short for Benjamin Pointdexter. The man who was sent to prison a while back for murder.
You didn’t care about any of that. Your only concern was that he was M.I.A. and it was out of character.
Maybe he just got bored, found someone else.
You ignored the slithering thought, knowing it’s not true.
Despite not knowing all of his life, you knew him, he was obsessive to a fault. His cleanliness, the order of his knives, and seeing you all fell into a cycling routine that he didn’t stray from.
He wouldn’t just dissapear.
Your leg shook nervously as you focused on the television. The news was covering a recent stock drop or something related. You were half listening for anything that could be related to him.
You were sure that an extremely wanted convict being detained would make front page news, so if anything happened, they’d talk about it here.
So far, it was nothing of substance, just the economy and a new court case with the slime-ball mayor.
You were shaking your leg so vigorously that you almost didn’t hear it at first. Your hand shot out, muting the tv before straining your ears.
There it was, a soft shuffling sound coming from your bedroom. You jumped up, heart fluttering in your chest as you rushed over there.
You only stopped short of your bedroom door to grab a nearby book, just in case it wasn’t Dex in your room and you needed a weapon.
Turns out, it was unnecessary, you saw him immediately upon entering, slumped against your open window.
“Dex-” His name was expelled in a relieved breath, but you only grew concerned again the more you looked at him.
Dark patches covered his mask and the fabric of his suit. His gloves were on, but you could see the clear glisten of blood coating them.
“Hey. Thought you’d be asleep. I can go soon, just gotta take a breather.”
You scoffed indignantly, quickly going over to him, “A breather? Jesus, what happened?”
“Not Jesus, just me.”
You glared at him. It was not the time for jokes, definitely not as he was dripping blood on your floor.
“You can explain later, here.” You supported him under his shoulder as you guided him to your bed.
“Gonna get it dirty.” He pushed back slightly as you tried to sit him down, but fell back anyway when you applied more force.
“It’s okay, I have other sheets. I’m worried about you right now.”
You could tell he was smirking based off the look in his eyes, further proven by the next statement. “Worried about me?”
You didn’t even bother hiding the emotion in your response, “Yes, I do. A lot.”
That made him quiet, glinting eyes searching your face for any hint of a joke or lie. He seemed to find none, but had no response for you. It was hard to tell his full expression behind the mask, and you found yourself sick of it.
Besides, it’s not like you didn’t know who he was.
Your fingers curled under the edge, lifting it gently, but a firm grip on your wrist stopped you.
“Ben, it’s okay.”
His eyes widened in slight surprise at your use of his first name, but it did the trick. The hand holding you fell away and you pulled the fabric fully off his face.
You sucked in a breath at the injuries before you. A trickle of blood coated his blond grey-flecked hair where it stuck to his forehead, and there was a bruise blooming on his cheekbone.
The lips you had admired not that long ago were sporting a cut, but even with all that, Dex didn’t appear to be in a lot of pain. His face showed an openness and tiredness that you’d never seen on him before.
Without thinking, you raised a hand to brush lightly over his mouth, relishing in the slight flutter of his eyes as you did so.
You couldn’t stop, addicted to the reaction. Your hand trailed from his lips to the side of his face, and over his sharp jawbone. You mapped out everything that was hidden to you before, ignoring the smear of blood on your hand.
His piercing gaze stayed fixed on you as he pressed his head into your palm. His only other movement was twitching hands where they rested over his thighs. He stayed still, not trying to stop you or rush you, just accepting.
It wasn’t until your fingertips brushed over his throat that he shivered beneath you. The movement was nearly imperceptible, but he had definitely tilted his head back slightly to give you more access.
It made something swirl in your abdomen. How much he trusted you, how willing he was beneath your hands. How good he looked, injuries and all.
You told him as such, and his eyebrows knit together like he had been hit.
“Don’t say that, you don’t know what you’re starting.” His voice was weak, barely a whisper in the quiet of the room.
“I do.”
“No you don’t. You said you care about me, I’m not easy to care for.” The words weren’t said in self deprecation or a stab at sympathy, just factual. He truly believed that care and tenderness wasn’t made for him.
It sent a pang through your heart, for so many years you held a similar sentiment about yourself. You were difficult to understand, to accept but he did, and you could do the same for him.
“I know.” You held his face in both palms, a hairsbreadth away from him, “Neither am I.”
Your lips meeting his seemed to ignite action within him, hands that were previously dormant snapping up to grab at your hips firmly.
You were pulled down to straddle his lap, already feeling a poking hardness in the fabric. It was your turn to shiver, giving an experimental grind forward as you continued to kiss him breathlessly.
That caused a deep groan to flood from his throat into your mouth. He quickly found purchase over your ass to guide you into repeating the movement.
While you grinded over the hard length in his pants, his tongue explored the expanse of your mouth, flicking over the ridges and smoothness inside. You could taste the uniqueness of him, but also the metallic tang of blood from his lip.
You only pulled away to breathe once the burning in your chest couldn’t be ignored. Chest heaving, you pulled back and watched as he did the same.
He couldn’t seem to see enough of you, eyes raking from your chest down your frame and back again. His lips were swollen and spit slicked, and you were sure you had a similar look of dishevelment.
His hands trailed up your spine and back down to where you sat on top of him. You could hear the swallow he took before speaking, “If I’m going to have you, it’s going to be all of you. If you go through with this, you’re not leaving me, you get that?” His voice was steady despite being out of breath, tone deadly serious.
You could read between the lines for the warning. There was no going back for Dex if you continued, no breakups, no do-overs.
Lucky for him you didn’t want any.
In lieu of response, you surged forward, attacking his mouth with your own as you drug yourself firmly over his crotch.
You gasped out a moan as the movement caught between your legs, right where you needed it most. But it wasn’t enough. You needed to be closer.
You shrugged off your top, throwing it to an unseen side of the room. Another shiver racked your body as lips made use of the newly exposed skin, nipping and sucking over your chest and sternum.
His fingers grabbed onto the latch of your bra, but you stopped him short. “No, get out of that suit first.”
He backed away from you with a half lidded gaze, trademark smirk flicking on his lips. “Yes ma’am.”
He seemed to enjoy watching you squirm as he unlatched all the zippers and buttons of his suit, moving much slower than necessary. The utility belt came off first, knives clinking as he threw them on your nightstand. The top part of his suit was soon to follow, dark fabric peeling away to reveal fair skin.
He wasn’t as injured as you’d assumed, just a dark blooming bruise on his ribs and left shoulder. Every other mark was old and weathered, the raised scars scattered across his torso spoke of years of pain.
You took him in unabashedly, eyes raking over pronounced pectorals and the defined abs that covered his stomach. Light hair dusted his chest and led in a trail past the waistband of his pants.
His smirk only widened as he watched you watching him. Patiently waiting, he sat there for your next move.
It was only fair that you lost the next bit of clothing, so you rose off him to shimmy out of your pants, leaving the underwear on.
His brow rose as he caught onto the little game you were playing. His pants came off quickly after, joining yours in a dark heap.
The only thing shielding the prominent bulge in his lap was dark grey briefs. They didn’t leave much to the imagination, clinging to the long rod of him and wrapping around solid thighs. You could see a dark patch in the fabric where he’d already started leaking, your core throbbing in response.
You settled on his lap again, smiling at the soft hiss he let out from the pressure. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, guiding him to your bra clasp as you trailed fingertips past the waistband of his briefs.
His fingers deftly unlatched the clasp, and the cover fell away right as you pulled his length free.
It slapped loudly against his lower stomach, smearing white across his skin and your hand.
His eyes weren’t focused on that though, only staring at your chest with intimidating focus. “God, the things I want’ta do to you.”
It was spoken under his breath so quietly, you were unsure if the words were meant for you to hear.
“So do them.”
He only laughed, leaning back on his elbows to watch you.
He knew what you wanted, he just wasn’t going to give it to you that easily. Your frustration only made him impossibly harder.
Despite his blasé act, you could see you were having an effect on him. Every rock of your hips made his cock twitch, a bead of white dribbling out the top. His neck and chest were covered in a flush, and every breath he took seemed labored. Shaky.
You decided to play his own game, fuck with him a little, “C’mon Dex, show me what you promised.”
You reached down, rubbing a thumb over the leaking slit between you. He let out a breathy moan, hips involuntarily bucking up into you.
You didn’t stop in your ministrations, leaning down to speak directly in his ear. “You said you wanted all of me, so take it. You have me.”
Your words caused another twitch in your hand. “You have me, I’m yours.”
The words were barely out your mouth when you were flipped onto your back, bouncing against the mattress. You let out a startled giggle at the movement, only sobering when you looked down.
The look Dex gave you made your heart stutter for a moment. The only way you could describe it was carnivorous. His eyes were dark and shadowed, and if you didn’t know him well enough to recognize the want in his expression, he looked almost pissed off.
It only made wetness pool in your core.
“You want this?” He left a trail of open mouthed kisses down your stomach.
It was a rhetorical question, but you nodded anyway.
“Where do you want me? Here?” He bit at your hipbone, soothing the flesh with a lick afterwards.
“Or here?” His breath ghosted across the damp patch of your panties, making you thrum in anticipation.
“Yes, right there.” Any more dilly dallying and you’d probably start begging. You had a feeling that’s exactly what he wanted.
“Hmm, interesting.” He ignored the area, trailing lips down your inner thighs. His hands gripped your knees, preventing you from closing yourself off to him.
He bit random spots all the way down your thigh, licking a stripe on the way up.
“Dex- c’mon.” You huffed. The feeling of his mouth on yours was amazing, but it wasn’t nearly enough and he knew it.
“Whose are you?” The words are spoken into your skin, in the crease of your hip.
“Yours.”
“And who do I belong to?” He grasped the waistband of your underwear between his teeth, dragging them down slowly.
“Me.”
You only saw the flash of a smile before his mouth was on you fully. You let out a shuddering moan as his lips latched onto your clit, sucking hard.
He juggled between your bundle of nerves and trailing his tongue down to your entrance, licking inside.
You could feel him groan against you as you grabbed a fistful of his hair, holding him steady.
Between your existing wetness and his mouth, you were soaking, juices dripping down to the bedsheets past his mouth.
His mouth traveled up again to focus on your nub while one of his hands snaked around to press two fingers against your entrance.
They slipped in easily, quickly building a rhythm trusting into you while his tongue lapped at you from the outside.
You couldn’t even make a sound as your peak quickly approached, your body just seized with the amount of pleasure rolling through you.
Your eyesight blanked out, and you took a few heaving breaths before you were able to find your voice again.
Even as your moans turned to over sensitive whimpers, he didn’t let up, only slowing down the movement of his hands and mouth. He seemed to be lost in the action, only focused on you and your enjoyment.
You had to yank his head back to get him to stop, and he did so with a bit of reluctance.
His hands trailed over you, running smoothing circles over your hips and legs.
Impatiently, you dug your heels into his back, nudging him upward towards you.
He followed happily, the same hungry expression on his face, except now there was a lack of tension. He seemed more relaxed, like he was the one who came and not you.
“I might not last too long. Don’t do this much, or at all really.” He analyzed your face after he’d said it, looking for any shift in your expression.
You were kind of shocked by the revelation, but weren’t put off by it at all. For a normal guy that looked like Dex, you’d assume they had a steady stream of people coming into their bed.
He wasn’t normal, and he definitely wasn’t the type to have one night stands. In fact, before tonight, you weren’t completely certain he was interested in sex at all.
You would’ve accepted him either way of course, but it was nice to know he shared the same want as you did.
“That’s fine, I just need you inside me.”
The words shocked a groan out of him, and he nuzzled his head into the juncture of your neck.
You could feel his hands wrap around your legs to reposition you accordingly.
He slid out of the last piece of fabric covering him and reached down to position his head at your entrance.
It slipped at first from the wetness, but after a few tries the tip caught onto you, slipping inside halfway.
The pressure punched the air out of you, mouth falling open in an ‘o’ shape. Even with his preparation it was a tight fit.
Dex let out a noise somewhere between a whine and a moan, dipping down to capture your mouth in his, siphoning heat into your mouth.
The taste of yourself on his tongue only heightened the experience, and you could barely catch your breath between that and his slow ruts forward.
Every movement pushed him further into you, and before you knew it he was sheathed inside you fully.
You both shuddered at the feeling, and you were sure you could feel every ridge and vein of him in your walls.
“Shit- you feel so good. I gotta pause for a sec.” He breathed against your mouth.
So you waited.
Until you didn’t.
His head tipped forward with a groan as you squeezed around him. One of his hands held your hip in a vice grip, sure to leave bruises later.
“Don’t do that.” His eyes flashed at you in warning.
You couldn’t even focus on a teasing response, you only wanted him to move.
Then he did, starting in shallow thrusts into you, building into longer drags where he pulled almost fully out before snapping into you again.
He grabbed your wrist, planting the palm firmly over his throat and guiding it to squeeze.
You followed the instruction even as his hand fell away, tightening around the corded muscles of his neck.
His eyes fluttered, hips stuttering before speeding up into a faster pace.
His breaths panted against your face as he pounded into you with quick succession. The angle shifted slightly, and he flashed a sharp grin at me hearing your higher pitch.
He pinpointed that spot, hitting it over and over again, only pausing to slip your ankles over his shoulders before continuing.
You couldn’t tell where you began and he ended, mind so blissed out. It was clear from your noises that you were reaching your peak again, and he slipped a hand down over your clit to accelerate it.
He didn’t rub, just pressed down his thumb firmly over you as you tightened around his shaft again.
The feeling of your fluttering walls made him follow right across the edge with you, letting out a shuddering moan as he pumped a few more times and released inside you.
All the strength seemed to sap from him once he came, body falling onto you heavily. You could still tell he was holding himself up a bit on his forearms in order to not crush you completely and you pulled him down solidly to increase the weight.
His rapid heart rate beat in unison with yours where you were pressed to his chest, the slick feeling of sweat and other fluids clinging to your bodies as he softened within you.
The time stretched on as you both sat there in breathless blissfulness, neither one eager to move positions.
His face hadn’t moved from where it sat nestled in your neck, warm breaths disturbing the strands of hair there. When he spoke, you felt it more than you heard it.
“You okay?” It was spoken with an air of unsureness that was unlike him. Based on what he’d said before, you had an idea of what his worries were.
“That was amazing.” And you weren’t lying, the entire experience had knocked a bit of your soul out your body and you were certain there’d be consequences of soreness the next day.
He made a humming noise, satisfied with the answer, and moved to lift off you.
A flare of panic lit up within you. Eventually, you’d have to go back to the real world, real responsibilities and concerns, but at the moment you didn’t want the stretch of peace to end. “Wait, not yet.”
He lowered himself back down immediately even though a frown creased his expression. “You need to get cleaned up, it might feel worse later.”
“Well,” you let out a soft chuckle, rubbing a hand along his scared spine, “that’s for later me to worry about. Just a bit longer.”
He didn’t make much argument about it, settling his head back over your chest where he gave soft nips at your collarbone.
Despite relishing the peacefulness, there was something else nagging at your mind.
“Hey Dex?”
He hummed out a response, still mapping you out with his mouth.
“What happened?” You didn’t have to clarify, you knew he knew that you were referring to the event that caused him to show up in your room covered in blood.
A soft sigh, and he was leaning back to respond, “The one who put a hit on you, he found out that I hadn’t exactly,” he paused deliberating the words, “followed instructions. He sent a team to finish the job, and I made sure that didn’t happen.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” There was a burning in his eyes that showed the extent of violence he was capable of.
The idea of him choosing to not kill you even though he’d been ordered to do so, and fighting off anyone else who tried was… rousing to say the least.
His eyes tightened in a wince of overstimulation as you involuntarily tightened around him.
“It’s gonna be a bit longer for that.” He sounded like he detested that fact just as much as you did.
You grinned, “I’ll be counting down the minutes,” you were going to continue with something teasing, but the look on his face stalled you.
The light from your open window casted a bluish tint over his face, contouring the edges of features softly. He fixed you with a searching gaze, like you were the only thing worth looking at.
“I meant what I said before,” You started, “it’s no going back for me either. I’m with you.”
He traveled up to your face silently and your eyes fluttered closed in preparation. Instead of kissing you on the lips, his mouth pressed firmly over your forehead. The touch trailed down to press two consecutive pecks over your eyelids and finally melt against your mouth.
“I’m with you.”
You knew that no matter what was coming in your lives that you weren’t afraid, fully willing to delve into the future with the person that knew you best.
Div by: @pixopix
AN: boss makes a dollar, I make a dime, I wrote this on company time. So if there’s any typos or inconsistencies… sorry. It’s minimally edited from my flow of consciousness.
If anyone even reads this, lemme know what you think, is it good? Bad? Just meh? Lmk :D
TW: Assssss always: the tw does contain spoilers, language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, sex, general mentions of violence, past abuse and soooo on. We've got some fluff, family bonding, a smooth service (until it's not), THE SNOW IS HERE AND Y'ALL KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS! FLASHBACKS BABY! General distress, depictions of abusive, controlling relationship dynamics, possessiveness, speeding, underage drinking, knives, car crashes, blood, you guys know the drill by now, Jake gets a few more pieces of the puzzle, some Dom & Lena sweetness, Jake's honestly the best and we love him (Sasha too), street bonfire and finally some sweet fluff to send us off.
Sorry about the late update! I was hanging out with friends and lost track of time! My editing was also kind of rushed so if you see mistakes, no you don't! xD
Chapter 26: Snowfall
“I told you my eggs were actually shitty,” Jake reminded with a wide grin, his bare chest stuttering as he held in a laugh.
“They’re good!” I attempted to assure him, failing miserably as I choked on a tiny piece of eggshell. “Just a little… crunchier than I’m used to.”
He reached over his kitchen island and pulled the plate away from me. “Stop eating it before you hurt yourself.”
I grabbed the corner of the plate, giggling as I tried to pull it back. “Give it back!”
“These are disgusting. I’m throwing them in the trash where they belong, and we’ll go out to get some actually edible eggs.”
“They’re not that bad, honestly!”
“Lena,” he said softly, reaching up with his free hand to stroke my wild hair out of my face. A chill rushed down my spine as I leaned into his warm touch. Using my distracted state to his advantage, Jake slid the eggs into the trashcan. “Get changed, and we’ll go to the diner down the street.”
“That was low, even for you,” I whined.
Jake leaned down, discarding the plate entirely to press a kiss to my lips. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“And how-”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
His front door rattled with each pound, and my heart leapt into my throat. “The fuck?”
He moved to answer it, stopping only to look back at me as I desperately grabbed his arm to stop him. My mouth hung open for a moment, every warning I’d wanted to say failing to form into actual words. Then another knock, a softer one, echoed in his apartment. “Lena Harrow, open this door right now!”
Ozzy’s voice made my body physically relax, fingers loosening on Jake’s arm and a sigh falling from my lips. Jake’s eyes stayed glued to mine, concern flaring in that blue. I forced a smile and rolled my eyes to keep the tears from fully forming. “Guess I wasn’t as discreet as I thought. Got any windows I can sneak out of?”
“None that you’ll survive the drop down.”
“Drats,” I joked. “Guess I’ll have to face the music.”
Finally, some light returned to his eyes, a smirk pulling at his lips. “The horror.”
“Jake, open the door!” Oz hollered again. “Or I’ll make ya pay full price at the bar!”
“See? The old man’s got a cruel streak.”
Jake rolled his eyes and pulled the front door open, quickly standing to the side as Oz practically shoved past him and pointed at me. “Let’s go.”
I gestured down to my clothes, or well, Jake’s clothes. “I can’t even change?”
“Nope. You are in big trouble, Missy.”
Jake laughed beside my brothers, earning Ozzy’s ire. “And you!”
He held his hands up. “I didn’t do shit, I swear!”
“You let her in!”
“She threatened to find another hot bartender, Oz! What’s a man to do?” He replied, giving him his best puppy dog eyes.
Ozzy groaned and jabbed him. “Fine, but next time you decide to harbor my fugitive daughter, you’ll be gettin’ the same punishment, understand?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Good.” He snapped his fingers. “Come along, dear! A punishment’s awaiting!”
“Yippie,” I groaned, grabbing Jake’s jacket off the back of the couch and pulling myself up to kiss him. “Try to remember me fondly.”
He chuckled against my lips. “Will do, Princess.”
“And tell the people my story,” I begged with a fake sob. “Tell them I went bravely.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
Before I could come up with another quippy reply, my brothers had lovingly dragged me out into the hall, begging us both to spare them the sappy sight of our “romance”.
Oz was furious. The second we got home, he began his speech, ranting and raving about all the punishments he’d been cooking up since finding my bed empty. In the end, he chose the one he knew I hated the most. Cleaning duty. Deep cleaning.
Instead of spending my weekend off curled up in bed, I was scrubbing the gym’s floors. Our band of misfits was more than thrilled as news quickly spread - Quinn’s doing, no doubt. Sasha and Ari had popped by the gym early that morning just to take a picture of me in my cleaning get-up. My brothers had both been taking shifts, teasing and making messes for me to clean up.
The worst of them all, however, was Jake.
He’d walked into the gym the following morning and grinned ear to ear at the sight of me scrubbing. With a low whistle, he gently kicked my water bucket. “Lookin’ good down there, Cinderella.”
“Cinderella?” I asked with a raised brow. “Really?”
“What she cleans. It fits.”
“Next you’ll expect me to sing for you.”
“Oh, I’d love a song. Got any good ones, Cindy?”
I rolled my eyes, but still took a deep breath and sang the sweet words I knew by heart from that old film he felt so keen to mock me with: “Oh, sing sweet nightingale, sing sweet nightingale, high.”
Jake’s teasing grin fell in an instant, a softer, more genuine one taking its place. A blush rose to my cheeks as he continued to stand there and stare at me like I’d done something worthy of stopping him in his tracks. Then, he shook his head and muttered, “Show off.”
I scoffed and splashed his retreating legs with soapy water. “Dick!”
The rest of the day, my punishment felt less shitty as I hummed that silly little song to myself and pictured Jake’s face.
*
The chilled December air stung Jake’s cheeks as he walked beside Quinn through the crowd. Each day felt colder than the last, and it was only a matter of time before the first snowfall of the year started. In his head, he pictured curling up beneath a warm blanket on his new couch with Lena and the cat. They’d rent some movies, order shitty takeout, and close themselves off from the rest of the world while the snow covered the city and muffled the noise of the world outside.
He probably should have felt embarrassed about just how excited the idea made him feel, yet he didn’t. Even the imagined version of Lena curled up beside him made Jake forgo all notions of shame or embarrassment that he’d never gone without, especially where the domestic, gooey parts of a relationship were concerned. Maybe he was finally growing up, as Simone had urged him to countless times, or maybe he’d simply stopped caring. Either way, Jake didn’t mind the newfound sense of freedom that filled him. In fact, he quite liked it.
A sharp snap echoed in his ear as Quinn grinned smugly at him. He pushed her hand down and tried to rub away the awful ringing sound now droning on in his left ear. “Ow.”
“Were you even listening to me?” She asked, shaking her head.
“Course I was.”
“What did I say then?”
Jake sighed, dodging someone in a suit. “I dunno, something about Ari’s ass?”
She faked a laugh. “Hilarious. I do feel the need to remind you that you asked me for help. The least you could do is pretend to listen better.”
“Sorry,” he answered, lightly bumping her shoulder. “I just got a little lost in thought.”
“Mhm.”
He turned and looked at her with a smile. “Quinn, I appreciate your help more than words can ever express. Please don’t abandon me!”
That got her to smile. “Oh, alright, since you sound so pathetic, I’ll keep helping. Just this once.”
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “So, what should I do?”
“Well, you’ve got a solid start already,” she answered. “Lena will love the thought you put into it. Plus, it’s gonna be going up in the new place, which I know will mean a lot to her. Honestly, you could probably call it good now.”
Shaking his head, Jake scoffed. “I’m not gonna half ass it.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “You’re already a far cry away from half-assing it, but if you insist on getting her another birthday present, you should make it something simple, you know? Keep it classy.”
“So lingerie is out, I’m guessing?”
“Ew,” she deadpanned. “I don’t wanna know about your sex life.”
“HA! Just a few months ago, you would’ve killed to know about our sex life!”
“Yeah, well, that was before I started seeing you as my brother. Now it’s just weird.”
“So you don’t want me to suggest going to the shop for sex toys then?”
This time, she slapped his arm and sternly pointed at him. “I’m still willing to abandon your ass.”
He held his hands up. “I surrender.”
“Anyway, like I was saying, you should keep it classy. Sure, sexy gifts are fun and all, but that’s not really Lena’s speed on her birthday.” A sad look suddenly made her brows furrow. Before he could ask, she shook it off and added, “Besides, I doubt she’d appreciate opening up a box of sexy toys with her dad, brothers, and grandparents all watching.”
“True,” he said quietly, trying not to dwell on that look or the feeling of dread it brought.
“You could always go the shoe route. Lena appreciates a good pair of shoes.”
A ray of sunlight blinded him for a moment, and when he recovered, his head turned to the small glittering thing sitting in a nearby window display. It was small, but no less beautiful. Elegant, he thought to himself, stepping closer to get a better look. Perfect.
*
I tossed the scrub brush back into the bin of water, groaning as I sat up and stretched my back out. The bar floor practically sparkled as I glared out across the empty room to Ozzy, who happily sat in the doorway of the office. I’d finished deep cleaning both the gym and the apartment over the weekend, thinking Ozzy would show me mercy on the day I’d have to go back to work.
I was wrong. Very wrong.
Hours later, my fingers were all pruney and smelled like cleaning solution as I slaved away at the disgusting bar floor. But now, after an entire morning wasted on cleaning a floor that was destined to get filthy again that night, I’d at last scrubbed my last board. “Is this good enough for you, Warden Oz?”
The big man rolled his eyes as he came to glance over my hard work. He nodded, whistling appreciatively. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen this floor shine!”
“Yeah, the fifteen years’ worth of buildup was a real peach to scrape off,” I grumbled.
“Let it be a lesson then! You may be an adult, but you’re never too grown to listen to your father.” He opened his arms, grinning ear to ear. “Now get in here.”
I shuffled into his embrace, and damn it all did the big man’s hug make all the pent-up anger fade right away. “I still think it was unfair.”
“That’s why I’m the parent, and you aren’t,” he answered, patting my back. “But, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for standing up for your boyfriend.”
“He’s-”
“Shush!” Ozzy pulled me back and tucked my hair behind my ears. “You’re a good girl, Lena, tough as iron with fists to match. But sometimes you’ll need to use your other talents instead of your fists. You’re smart and have a way of talking people down when you want to use those assets once in a while. I beg of you! I’m gettin’ too old to be worrying about you and your roughhousing!”
With a sigh, I released the tension I’d been clinging to. As bitter as I’d been about the whole thing, I understood what Oz was trying to teach me. It was a lesson I’d gotten a lot of when I got out of the hospital and came to live with my family full-time. Fighting was easy, cathartic, and for a long time, the fight was all I knew. As though he could see my head swimming, Oz kissed my head. “Keep those demons in check, ain’t that what he used to say?”
“Yeah,” I answered softly. “I’m sorry, Oz. Seeing Olive treat Jake like some… thing… it just…”
It reminded me of them, of all I’ve been through, and I couldn’t let Jake suffer the same way. I didn’t need to utter the words, not to Ozzy. That sad look filled his eyes, and an understanding hummed between us. “I know, beautiful girl. I know.”
With a quick shake of my head, I held his hand and looked up at him with a smile. “I’ll rein in the demons. Promise.”
“Good,” he replied. “Last thing I want is to end up lookin’ like your dad after training when you finally spit him back out.”
I laughed at that, memories of my dad taking hit after hit just to let me win playing in my head. “He always looked like that.”
Oz bumped me, shooing me with his hands. “Go on now, off with ya! I’ve got to get the bar as cleaned and organized as the rest of the place now.”
“I’d offer to help, but I think you deserve to put in a bit of elbow grease!” I hollered back at him as I hurried past the bouncers and stepped outside into the chilled air.
A shiver ran down my spine, one I knew for a certainty wasn’t from the cold. My eyes lifted to the sky, watching the big puffy clouds for a moment - watching for any sign that the storm was coming. Deep down, I knew that in the end, I wouldn’t see it coming, just like always.
The storm would come, snow would cover everything and everyone, and all of a sudden, I’d be fifteen again. All of a sudden, I’d be back in that dark, hazy storm. All of a sudden, I’d feel the sting of the knife and the pavement; I’d feel the cold and the wet soak through my clothes; I’d be running blindly through the snow.
The walk to work that day was quiet. Each step I took, each cold wind that bit at my cheeks, each glance of empty tree branches, now all filled me with that dreadful anticipation. Why am I just noticing it now? I wondered, sliding through a crowd of people. Why didn’t I notice the season shift sooner?
It was a far simpler answer than it usually was. Jake. I’d been so focused on him, on each and every minute spent in his presence, that I’d forgotten to be afraid. For just another asshole bartender, Jake certainly had a knack for making me forget things.
Maybe I can forget, I told myself. Maybe if I stay by his side long enough, it will all just melt away. I’d never been one for wishful thinking, but then and there, surrounded by the looming threat of that cold, dark storm, I let the thought lull me back into safety.
*
The second Lena stepped into the locker room, Sasha and Ari erupted. “Tiger Bitch!”
“Shouldn’t we change it to something like Cleaning Bitch now that she’s playing maid?” Ari suggested.
“Maid Bitch isn’t bad,” Sasha agreed.
“Hate to rain on your parade, but I am no longer playing maid so you might not wanna fuck with your nicknames.”
“Damn it!” Ari slapped the Russian’s arm. “I told you we should have gotten one more picture!”
“It is unfortunate,” he mused sadly. “But I’m betting we can get her with the scrub brush back in her hand again over something!”
“Good luck, you psychos,” Lena replied, rolling her eyes as they passed. Looking at him over her shoulder, she gave him a pondering look. “You’re being awfully quiet.”
Jake gulped. Did she somehow already know about the gift now hidden in his locker? Did his face give it away already? Act cool, he desperately reminded himself, suddenly feeling childish under her inquisitive gaze. “I’m just getting ready for work. You’re the one hooping and hollaring with the delinquents.”
She hummed, quickly coming up behind him. His eyes moved to the box just barely sticking out from its place on the top shelf. “Awe, are you feeling left out?”
He chuckled at her teasing, eyes drifting shut as her hands ran up his chest. “Of course not, but a good morning wouldn’t kill you.”
Her lips pressed against his neck. “Good morning, Jake.”
“See? Was that so hard?”
“Yes,” she teased. “You’re just so difficult to please!”
“Think you’ve got that mixed up, Cinderella.” He turned, discreetly shutting his locker and leaning up against it with her now in his arms.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not Cinderella anymore, remember?”
“Oh, I think it’ll be Cinderella for as long as I want it to.”
Sticking her tongue out at him, she lifted herself onto the tips of her toes, lips just barely out of reach. “See? So difficult.”
It felt like everything else had faded away the longer he stared down at her pouty lips and green eyes glimmering with that mischievous sparkle. God, she was intoxicating. “You’ll live.”
“Ahem.” Jake’s eyes lifted, glaring daggers at Howard as he stood in the doorway with a glare of his own. “Family meeting is waiting.”
“On our way,” Lena answered without so much as a grimace.
Jake, however, held the manager’s stare, hoping the disgusting man would remember his threat. Lena might not have known about Howard’s sick obsession with her, but Jake did, and he’d be damned if he gave him even an ounce of breathing room.
Only when Howard’s form faded away did Jake accept Lena’s gentle touch. “Forget about him.”
“He’s an ass.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “He has been a bit of a snake lately, but… it’s not all his-”
“Don’t,” he quickly interrupted. “Don’t make excuses for him.”
She studied his face, obviously picking up on the exact thing he was trying not to show. She read him too well, had from the start. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just sick of everyone bending over backwards for that prick.”
“Well, he is the manager.”
“I don’t care if he’s the goddamn Queen of England; he doesn’t get to-” Jake quickly swallowed the words and shook his head. “He just needs to stay the hell out of everyone’s business.” And stay the hell away from you.
She kissed him then, a soft, quick thing. Her thumb smoothed over the lines that wrinkled between his eyes. “Come on, let’s get this shit over with.”
Thankfully, there was no new painting hanging on the wall that day, but somehow even that seemed to make Lena feel uneasy. She barely touched the food in front of her, eyes scanning the walls and the street outside the windows. And all he could do was watch… be there beside her if or when she needed him.
Service was going smoothly, for once. In Jake’s mind, it only cemented his previous suspicions that Olive had been the one fucking things up for the rest of them. The guests were still dicks, still entitled and loud and obnoxious in that way only rich assholes knew, but the air felt just a little lighter. Everyone around clearly felt it too, joking and teasing, laughing at a pair of particularly ridiculous guests in the little nook beside the bar. It was as though everyone could finally breathe.
Almost everyone.
Lena had done her best to act like everything was normal. She’d smiled, joked, and teased with everyone else. She’d slip him a glance, even a touch now and then, but Jake could see through it. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and her laugh didn’t make her nose scrunch up. Her body had been tense the second they left the locker room. And most damning of all, she kept looking out the windows, a compulsive need to check over her shoulder that made it obvious she was on edge.
It was almost like she was a different person from the one who had teased him in the locker room that morning. Whatever it was that those paintings had been digging up had rattled her so badly that even in their absence, the effect was the same. He felt helpless, and he fucking hated it.
“Hey, look, it’s snowing!” The new hostess gasped, hurrying out from behind the podium and rushing out the front door like a dumbass.
He rolled his eyes as Nicky and the other servers in the area moved to get a look. “It’s just fuckin snow. Happens every year.”
“Oh, come on,” the hostess said with big doe eyes. “You don’t think it’s beautiful?”
“I think it’s snow,” he deadpanned, grabbing the last dishes from the now vacant seat at the bar, quickly smiling at the next asshole to take the seat, and turning towards the kitchen. “It’ll get all fucked up by tomorrow anyway.”
“What will get all fucked up by tomorrow?” Scott asked as Jake dumped the dirty dishes.
“All that magical snow,” he answered with fake awe.
“It's snowing?” Isaac asked, head turned towards him, eyes wide with worry. “Like right now?”
“Yeah. The whole streets covered,” he said, almost absentmindedly.
“Where's Lena?”
And just like that, Jake felt a spike of fear erase the peaceful picture that he’d had stuck in his head. He’d been so stupid, spent all this time building up the moments he’d wanted to spend beside Lena, whilst the cold soaked into every corner and streetlight. Not once had he stopped to think - to consider what horrors lurked in that chill in the air or that coating of white for her. Here, now, seeing Isaac drop everything in the middle of service because of some snow… it was just another cruel reminder of how very little Jake actually knew.
He followed the cook’s lead, searching the back alley and the locker room before quickly making his way out into the dining room, where Lena now stood by the window. The idiot hostess kept gabbing on and on about how pretty it all was, but Lena didn’t say a word. She just stood there silently, looking out at the city as the snow fell.
*
The bar was filled with bodies, hot, sweating, bumping into each other in an odd rhythm that reminded me too much of the ocean. My vision was still slightly hazy from whatever drug Claude had spiked my drink with, to, in his words, “help me liven up”. Deep down, I knew I should be angry at him, but the pathetic truth of it was I was just glad he’d let me get out of the penthouse. Fucked up on drugs, suffocating in a sea of people, even just standing out in the cold, it was better than being there. Anything, anywhere was better than there.
I shoved against the bodies thrashing into me, trying to make my way back to the bar. Hopefully, Claude would still be there, but somehow I knew he wouldn’t. As much as I appreciated him getting me out of my prison, I knew he’d abandon me the second he found something more interesting.
Finally, I could see it, the sleek wood covered in stain after stain, the tall, dark-haired man standing behind it rolling his eyes at whatever the drunk patron in front of him had said. I was so close, just two or three more people away from breaking through the surface.
For a second, I’d let myself think that stupid thought… the one that would most certainly get me killed if I ever spoke it aloud. Maybe they have a phone here that I can use? Maybe… Maybe I can go home tonight if I’m quick enough.
A hand wound in my hair, pulling at the roots and dragging me back into the crowd. Just as that startled cry would have erupted from my throat, another covered my mouth. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”
My blood ran cold, body going limp in an instant as Tony’s voice echoed in my ear. I didn’t fight him as he dragged me through the bar and back out into the cold winter storm. I could barely see his sleek car until it was right in front of me. With one angry breath, he pulled the passenger door open and threw me inside.
I was shaking, whether it was from the cold or from the horrifying anticipation of what he’d do to me this time, I didn’t know. And, I suppose it didn’t really matter. I was his, and he could do whatever he wanted to me, that much he’d made clear after Rada’s death.
Tony slammed his door and turned the car on, barely glancing at me. Despite my fear, and against my better judgment, I opened my mouth. “I’m sorry. Claude said-”
His hand slammed into the steering wheel. “Is Claude in charge?!”
“No.” My voice was small, barely above a whisper.
“Stupid girl!” He growled out. “After everything I’ve done for you, everything I’ve given you, still you refuse to behave!”
“I’m sorry.”
The engine revved, almost covering the sound of him opening his knife. The blade bit into the skin of my neck as he extended his arm across the console. “No, you aren’t, but you will be.”
A hand settled against my arm, and before I could stop myself, I’d jumped, tearing my arm away from whoever it was as though they’d burnt me. Isaac quickly smiled. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.”
“I…” My chest felt tight as I forced air to continue filling my lungs, eyes rapidly darting from face to face until they finally landed on Jake’s. He looked so sad, watching me from across the room… pitying me? This is stupid, I scolded. You’re so fucking stupid. I quickly shook my head and fixed my hair, forcing a smile onto my lips as I looked back at Isaac. “I’m fine.”
“Lee…” he began.
“I’m fine.”
I walked off before he could say anything else, hurrying back into the kitchen and jumping onto the first free position I could. Anything that would keep me from the dining room was fine. Anything that would prevent me from having to face Isaac’s questions or Jake’s sad eyes. Anything that would keep the snow, the memory, away for just a little longer.
Scrubbing dishes, cooking, and plating helped keep my mind focused on the now, for a while at least. As service slowed and the bodies moving around the kitchen dwindled, those memories came flooding back in tiny waves. A disembodied voice. A phantom touch. Aches and sensations I knew weren’t real - not anymore - yet I couldn’t stop my whole body from reacting.
Isaac and Jake stood by the stairs, whispering back and forth until Jake finally sighed and started up towards the locker room. Isaac took a step towards me, but before he could talk, before he could give me the speech I’d heard a thousand times before, I spoke, “Don’t. Please just… don’t.”
“Lee,” he whispered, running his hand through his hair. “I just want -”
“I know.” I set the last dish on the rack. “I know what everyone wants to do is help me, and I appreciate it, Isaac, but I don’t want to hear the speech again. Please, just let me have that.”
After a long moment just standing there in the quiet kitchen, the faint noises of the rest of our coworkers hovering above us, Isaac nodded. “I kind of promised Peter I’d do the speech this year so…”
I smiled, blinking away the wetness in my eyes that I refused to let turn into tears. “I’ll tell him you did a good job.”
He took my hand in his and said that famous last line, “I’m here for you. We are all here for you, whatever you need.”
Swallowing the hateful words that always clung to the back of my throat each time the snow first fell, I nodded. “I know.”
I waited until most of the others had cleared out of the locker room before heading upstairs. Jake, of course, was waiting. He sat on the couch, holding his head in his palms, only stirring when he heard my footsteps enter the room. Those bright eyes met mine, worry and something deeper swirling around in them. In a second, he was on his feet, stumbling forward before stopping himself abruptly. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I replied, maybe just a bit too quietly.
His brows furrowed. “Are you… What do you need?”
I smiled, or tried to. “I don’t need anything. I’m -”
“Don’t say you’re fine, please.” He shook his head. “I know I don’t know anything about this, and I know I’m not good at this sort of thing, but I’m here. I’m here, and I’m ready to do whatever you need me to.”
“Jake.”
“I’m serious. Tell me to jump, and I’ll jump. Tell me to get you drunk, and I’ll get you drunk. Tell me to hug you or kiss you or anything, and I will do it.” His head bent down slightly as I tried to avoid his gaze.
My throat felt tight and my eyes stung. Echos of Tony’s voice played through my head like a bad record.
“Quit fucking crying!”
“You did this to yourself.”
“It’s all your fault.”
“If you would just fucking listen, then I wouldn’t have to punish you like this.”
I closed my eyes, a quiet, stuttering breath making my lips quiver ever so slightly. “A hug would be nice.”
Jake’s arms were around me instantly, my face smushing against his chest as he cradled my head in his hands and pressed his lips down into it. I could feel his lips moving, hear the distorted, faraway sound of his voice talking to me, but I couldn’t grasp any of it, not enough to keep my mind - myself - from drifting off.
With each bump, each swerve of the tires, the blade dug into my throat and collarbone. Blood rolled down my skin, but I didn’t dare reach up to try and stop it. Tony drove ahead blindly, snow speeding past the windshield in thick, heavy globs that I was sure he couldn’t see through. He didn’t care, though; he never did when he got like this. Whether he was high or just angry enough, I knew he wouldn’t give a damn if we crashed. Hell, that’d probably be my fault too.
He swerved again, only just narrowly avoiding a biker parked on the side of the road. My heart lurched, head turning ever so slightly to glance at the hazy figure yelling curses out into the street. Could it be them? I wondered. Did it matter if it wasn’t?
My heart hammered against my ribcage as all of a sudden everything else melted away. The sting of the knife, the nauseous feeling of going too fast, the fear of Tony… the fear of death. I’m done, I told myself, fingers curling over the door handle.
Tony glanced over just as the door clicked open. “Lena, don’t you fucking dare.”
Dead or alive, I’m fucking done.
Shoving my feet against the car floor and pushing my shoulder into the car door, I threw myself out of the vehicle. I hit the pavement hard, arms tucked over my head as I rolled and skidded through the snow. Even as I came to a stop, pain erupted all through my body.
My hands shoved against the ground, the cold and the wet mixing with the warm blood that gushed from the now gaping wound along my neck and collarbone. My vision swam, my head pounded, and all I wanted to do was fall and close my eyes.
Tires squealed, and the adrenaline finally hit me.
I didn’t realize I’d started shaking until Jake pulled away to look at me. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”
“I…” I angrily wiped my eyes and shook my head. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry.”
“Lena,” he whispered, fingers caressing my skin, accidentally brushing against the scar.
With a horrible noise, I pulled myself from his grip. “Let’s just go. Please.”
*
Jake fucking hated this. He hated the way Lena had pulled herself away from his touch, barely holding back a sob or maybe even a scream. He hated that nothing he did could pull her from the depths that she’d retreated to. Not tag, not some lewd joke she’d normally love, not even a drink or a smoke. He felt useless - was useless, and it was worse than anything he’d ever felt before.
Lena sat on the edge of her seat in their usual booth at Ozzy’s, nursing the drink in front of her with a far-off look. Peter and Patrick had met them halfway on the walk to the bar, uttering similar words he had and getting the same response. Everyone’s eyes were on her, and everyone’s attempts were met with the same stone wall.
“Try not to take it personally,” Patrick had said when Jake couldn’t stand sitting in the booth any longer. “It’s…” the big man had stopped himself with a frustrated sigh. “She’s trying.”
“I know,” he’d replied, though it did little to help ease the pit in his stomach.
Quinn had replaced Patrick soon enough, laying a hand on his shoulder and buying him another drink. “How are you holding up?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna worry, dumbass. Besides, this is your first time dealing with the snow around here, and I know how frustrating and… helpless you feel.”
Finally, he tore his gaze away from Lena. “Is it always this bad?”
“Yeah,” she answered in that brutally honest way he usually appreciated. Now, however, with this, it just made his chest hurt more. “Used to be worse though.”
Worse. He didn’t even want to imagine what that looked like. “What do we do?”
She gestured around them. “This.”
“This?” He scoffed. “This isn’t doing anything.”
“We know that.”
“Well then, maybe we should try something else.”
“Jake, we’ve been doing this since she got home. Everything you think could maybe, possibly, help, we’ve tried. And let me tell you something, a lot of the time it just made everything worse.” She sighed, taking a large gulp of her own drink. “You know better than most just how stubborn and complicated she can be. Everything we do… It’s got to be on her terms.”
He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch something - someone. “Her terms are ignoring the problem until it eats her alive.”
Quinn shrugged. “For now, maybe. But, in the future, who knows?”
“I’m not gonna just sit here and watch her suffer,” Jake finally said, shoving away from the bar.
“Jake wait!”
He ignored Quinn’s protests and marched towards the only other person he knew would be on board with his half-baked plan. “Sasha!”
The Russian turned with a slightly drunk grin. “Grumpy Jake!”
“Come with me. I’ve got something important we need to do.”
“Oh,” he purred. “Is it something naughty?”
“Yeah.”
“Lead the way.”
*
"Lena!" His voice echoed in the quiet night, colder than the snow beneath me. I forced myself to my feet, ignoring the blinding pain to push myself toward the blurred images of burly men and shining metal. Behind me, I could hear his car door slam shut and practically feel his footsteps closing the distance between us. "Get back in the fucking car, or so help me god, I'll break every bone in your fucking body!"
Blood ran down my chest as I pushed myself to move quicker, swallowing the dry lump in my throat and using my pain to call out. "Dom!"
The hazed figures all moved, but my eyes were focused on one among them. The one I knew was going to put an end to this. The raw, animalistic growl that echoed behind me brought tears spilling from my eyes. "LENA!"
Two strong hands gripped my arms and pulled me in close, ripping something off his bike and pressing it into my neck. “Holy shit! What the hell happened?”
“Help me,” I sobbed. “Please help me.”
“Lena, get back in the car!” Tony growled.
Dom shoved me behind him, into Ryker’s arms. He puffed his chest up and glared at Tony. “I don’t think she wants anything to do with you right now.”
“I don’t care what she wants.” He snapped his fingers. “Come on. We’re going home.”
“No.” It didn’t sound like my voice. It didn’t sound weak or broken.
Tony’s eyes blazed. “No?”
Dom didn’t even flinch. “You heard her, fuck off.”
With a crazed laugh, Tony pulled the gun from behind his back, lifting it to the sky and firing twice. The bikers reacted, grabbing guns of their own and pointing them at him. Realistically, Tony knew it was ten to one. Logically, he knew he didn’t have enough bullets for all of them. But the look in his eyes told me he didn’t care. He’d kill as many as he could… starting with Dom.
“Get in the car, Lena, and no one has to die tonight.”
Dom’s gun was still tucked into the back of his pants. Whether the biker thought he didn’t need it or simply didn’t want to use it, I had no idea. Still, he stood unflinching, staring down the barrel of Tony’s revolver. “Walk away now.”
“I’m not going anywhere without her.” Tony grinned. “She’s mine.”
Mine. The word echoed in my head longer than it should have. He’d said it enough times that it shouldn’t have stuck with me now, but it did. For the first time since Rada stopped breathing, I felt that fire… that horrifying burn of anger and anguish fill my chest. My tears stopped, and my body moved on its own. I pulled Dom’s gun out from behind his back, lifted it up, and pulled the trigger.
Tony cried out in pain, his body shooting back as blood exploded from his shoulder. Dom’s hand curled around mine, pulling the gun out of it in seconds. His wide eyes stared down at me, shining even in this endless darkness with worry and something else… something I didn’t understand. “Lena.”
It only took a second for Tony’s laughter to fill the street. And, it only took one more for him to start shooting. Dom pushed me to the back of the crowd and practically shoved me in the opposite direction. “Run.”
Despite the freezing cold clinging to my body, and despite the blood still pouring from my wound I turned and started running. The snow fell so heavily around me that I could hardly tell where I was or where I was going, but I followed my feet, hoping they remembered the way home. Every movement felt strained and slow. Every noise that echoed in the distance felt too far away one moment and then too close the next. I could hear Tony’s desperate scream of my name. I could see him fall back as I pulled the trigger. Every single moment played through my head on repeat until I finally saw that bright sign.
The steps were steeper than I remembered, the bar more crowded than I thought it’d be, but there, pouring drinks and arguing with the rowdy boys in front of him, my dad stood tall. Ozzy was the first to see me, coming out of the office with a stack of papers in hand. He dropped them all the second our eyes locked. “Jack.”
Then my dad looked up. For a split second, I was worried he wouldn’t recognize me. How could he? I wasn’t the little girl he’d known anymore. I wasn’t… me. But the moment he saw me, my dad ran. “Lena!”
Finally, the sob I’d been holding inside burst from my throat as I numbly stumbled into his arms. “Daddy.”
A warm coat draped over my shoulders as Dom settled into place beside me. I didn’t know how long I’d been standing in the street, staring out at the empty road now covered in that sheet of white, and honestly, it didn’t really matter. My body didn’t quite feel it, the cold. Ever since that night… every time I’d relived that horrible day, the cold didn’t quite feel real. Nothing did.
We stood in silence for a long time, and it was something I appreciated about Dom. He knew when to let the quiet be and when to fill it with noise. Ever since the moment we’d first met in Tony’s penthouse, Dom and I had understood one another in a way few others did.
“I wish I'd killed him…” The words felt heavy on my tongue as I fought against the guilt that followed.
“Yeah,” Dom agreed softly. “I wish I'd of killed him too.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I leaned into his side and took hold of his hand. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times before, but… thank you for saving me that night.”
“Kid, the truth is I didn't save you.” Dom smiled at me, that sad but wise smile. “You were the one who took the hit. You were the one who jumped outta that car. You were the one who shot him.” Tears swelled in my eyes as he gripped my hand tighter. “It was all you, Lena. You saved yourself.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“I know,” he said. “But one day it will.”
It never will. The negative thought swirled in my brain like a current, stirring up every other negative thought it could until my mind was filled with them once more. A loud honking tore me from it all, a spike of terror filling me with a new wave of nausea, making my stomach lurch. Dom pushed me behind him, his grip only loosening when Sasha leaned out the window of the large truck and shouted some greeting in Russian.
They pulled over in front of Ozzy’s, and Jake stepped out of the driver’s seat. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Sasha’s just a dick.”
Sasha blew us a kiss and hurried inside. “What’s goin’ on?”
Jake’s eyes never left mine as he walked to the back of the truck and pulled the tarp off the back, revealing all the paintings that had been hanging in the restaurant over the weeks. My paintings. My pain in physical form. “How did you…”
“Will told me where Howard was keeping them, and I figured with all this new snow we could use something to warm us up. So, what do you say, Cindy? Wanna start a fire?”
I smiled, a real smile. “I’ll get the matches.”
Jake and Dom piled the paintings up in the street. Quinn and Patrick doused them in kerosene. Peter, Isaac, Ozzy, and Prue blocked off the rest of the street. And soon, everyone was gathered around as I stood and held the match. With Dom on my right and Jake on my left, I dropped the match and watched the flame engulf the paintings. My pain, my joy, my blood, sweat, and tears… everything they were and everything they held within them blazed right in front of my eyes.
For a moment, all I could do was stare blankly ahead, into the fire. I’d held onto those memories, that pain, for so long I couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t a part of me. Fighting, starving, bleeding, hurting. High. Angry. Bitter. Venomous. Everything that had kept me alive over those horrible years had soaked into the paint on those canvases and now… now it was all on fire.
A flood of relief came quickly and without warning. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and beside me, Jake wordlessly took hold of my hand and pulled me closer. “How’d you do this?”
He chuckled. “What? You’re the only one who can have a criminal record?”
“You know what I mean.”
“It was nothin’.”
“Not to me,” I whispered, looking up at him. “Thank you.”
“I might not understand why these things made you feel so…” he paused, quickly deciding whatever he was going to say didn’t matter. “You’re welcome.”
Hours passed with us standing in the street watching the fire burn before the cops came. Sam was understanding enough, but still told us to put it out. By then, though, all that was left were ashes that quickly scattered in the snowy wind.
Jake followed my brothers and me up to the apartment, not needing an invitation to stay the night. When the door closed and the police lights faded down the street, Peter and Patrick looked at one another and silently argued over who should speak first. “I did it last time,” Patrick insisted.
“I was in the hospital!” Peter bit back.
“I still did it!”
“Guys,” I interrupted. “I really don't need the whole speech again. Isaac did a great job of it earlier. I'm fine.”
Peter scratched his head and shrugged. “We just want you to know we're here for you, Lee.”
“Yeah, just lookin' out for ya.”
I carefully pulled them both into a hug and sighed. “I know and I appreciate it.”
“We love you,” Pete whispered kissing my head.
“Yeah, like a lot. Sometimes,” Pat added, not even dodging my fist to his side. “Ow.”
“Get some sleep.”
“You too big brother,” I replied slipping into my room with Jake in tow.
The door clicked shut behind us and for a moment I could hear Peter and Patrick on the other end, still talking about what to do about me. Guilt mingled in with the tidalwave of grief and anger and everything else. Jake sat on the edge of my bed and watched me carefully as I stripped myself of my clothes that now held clumps of snow and the faint hint of fire and changed into something more comfortable. I sat down beside him and waited for him to change out of his clothes.
What do I say? What answers can I give him that wont ruin everything? I knew his head was probably running rampant with questions and I knew he'd be expecting me to answer them. The fear that came with that was consuming.
After the silence had stretched on too long for him to ignore any longer, Jake sighed and knelt down in front of me. “Look, I know there’s a lot I don’t understand about, well, everything, but I want to. I want to understand every part of you, Lena. The good, the bad and the worst. When you’re ready.”
“What if I’m never ready?”
“Then…” he thought for a moment before shaking his head and looking back up at me. “Then I’ll just appreciate everything I do know.”
I could feel the tears building again. “I want to share things with you. I do. It's just… The... The accident was truly one of the worst days of my life, and it's... This is all just…”
“A lot. Even if I don't know what it is, I understand that.”
“It's the last thing I wanna think about and the only thing everyone else is.” With a tired shake of my head, I sighed. “I know they mean well. I know they're just trying to help however they can, but it just makes me feel… Broken. Like I'm some wounded animal that they all have to take turns patching up and… and I don’t think I can handle it if that becomes how you see me too.”
Jake understood, in his own way. He watched me closely without a speck of pity in his pretty eyes. After a minute of silence, he got into bed beside me, tugged the blanket over our heads and gently pulled my head to rest on his chest. “There. Now it's just you and me.”
I smiled at the thought, but the pit remained in my chest. “Jake-”
“Don't think about anything else. As long as we’re here under this blanket, it's just us. Nothing else matters. Just you and me.”
“Just us,” I whispered, looking into his unwavering bright eyes. “That sounds nice.”
His thumb wiped the budding tears from my eyes as he pulled me closer. “Just us sounds perfect.”
“What happens tomorrow when the blanket’s gone?”
“Well, then everyone else will be around too.”
“But it'll still be… us, right?”
You still want me… Don't you?
Jake smiled, as if he actually heard my unasked question, and bent down pressing a kiss to my brow as he answered against my skin. “It'll always be us, princess.”
I genuinely think once you start listening to Ethel Cain you can’t go back. Her music just has a hold of my soul and nothing else even comes close to it. She actually has a spiritual power.
About: After his divorce and getting clean, Frank finds himself incredibly horny all of the time. You, being the amazing roommate you are, offer to help your friend out on his problems.
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, roommates, best friend reader, free use kink, mutually beneficial agreements, oral (f), fingering (f), horny!frank langdon, etc. any other tags will be in other parts!
Word Count: 3.9k
Read On AO3
Notes: i hope you guys enjoyed the first part of four of this lil series!! requests are open but i’m currently very slow at getting to them simply because the end of the semester is nearing and im three weeks away from getting my bachelors lol. but please spam my inbox!! don’t forget to like, reblog, and comment!
gif credit | part two | part three | part four
When Frank had first gotten divorced, he knew it was for good reason. He hadn't been a good husband to Abby, having always been away from home, prioritizing work over being with his wife, and the addiction was just the nail in the coffin. The two had constantly fought, arguing about menial things like what to have for dinner or what show to watch on the television. Abby would buy Frank some gift he never used for anniversaries and he'd do nothing more than buy flowers and maybe a nice dinner. Their sex life had gotten to be nonexistent in the last year they had been married, with Frank taking benzos and Abby running off to do god knows what.
And when Frank was suffering in rehab, the only person who had put in the effort to visit him and be there for him was you. You were always kind and understanding. While his thirty day inpatient program turned into sixty days which in turn became ninety, you had been there to support him like any best friend would. And when he got out, you had welcomed him with open arms and an offer to stay in your apartment for as long as he needs to until he got back on his feet. It were as though you were an angel sent from the Heavens to shine light back into his dark and dull life.
They always say no major changes in the first year of sobriety but in all honesty, it was a good thing that Frank and Abby had gotten divorced a few months after he got out of rehab. A fresh start, that is what he needed. Something where he could take full control back on his life.
Living with you had been a breath of fresh air. Not only was your apartment nice and spacious but you were always kind and supportive. With Frank no longer working, focusing primarily on healing himself, you never made him feel judged for being unable to pay rent or not doing much during his days. With you still working in the ER, Frank got to live vicariously through your stories, smiling when you would tell a joke that Perlah had said to you or holding you after you had lost a patient.
During his time in your apartment, Frank made himself useful by cooking, cleaning, packing your lunches, and simply being there for you too. There was a domesticity to it that Frank hadn't ever felt in any of his years of living.
By the time Frank had gone back to work, after a long ten months of not doing much, he had felt alive again. Morning trips to Dunkin, carpooling with you, the busy rush of the ER, his brain clear and ready to tackle on cases, therapy every week, and NA meetings two times a week, he no longer felt weighed down by his addiction. The fog he used to get, the high, was something he no longer wanted. Of course, there were cravings, those never go away.
There was only one true issue Frank had been having the last few months that he just couldn't fully comprehend as to why he was having this issue. He was constantly horny at any and all times. Frank had never had the most extensive sex life. His main priorities had always been getting through undergrad, then med school, and then focusing on his residency. But now things were going good for him and his libido was on overdrive.
"I just don't understand why I'm so horny all of the time," He sighed as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. The two of you finally had a day off after working six twelve hour shifts in a row. The both of you were still in your pajamas, having just woken up a little while ago.
"Are you like constantly jerking your shit?" You asked with a barely suppressed laugh as you placed the coffee pot back on the counter.
Frank pressed his lips together and glared at you. "I'm being serious," He said.
You finished making your coffee and looked at Frank. "And I think it's a valid question," You shrugged your shoulders before taking a sip from the mug.
"What I do with my free time and my right hand is none of your business," Frank replied. It was rare to have a friendship where he could simply open up about such intimate details. But you had seen Frank at his worst and he had seen you at yours. And there comes a time when you're living with someone when you get comfortable with them. You were his best friend just as he was yours.
Not to mention the fact that just the other week, you had come home from a date to tell Frank all the ways the guy had failed to get you off.
So really it wasn't too big of a deal to talk about these things. There's no shame in being open about your sexuality.
"Have you thought about hooking up with someone to maybe just get the urge out of you?" You asked with a smirk of amusement on your face.
Frank took a deep breath and sighed. "Of course I have," He replied. "I even thought about downloading Tinder to do so. But my fear of STDs and STIs outweighs my need for sex."
You hummed in understanding. "The amount of patients we get who need emergency STD treatment is quite a lot," You nodded your head, placing your mug on the counter.
"It's just like every since I got clean, all I want to do is get off," Frank groaned. "I don't know how to combat it."
You pursed your lips, a silence overcoming you as you thought carefully about a solution for Frank. You straightened your back and cleared your throat. "I mean," You began. "You could always use me," You offered, trying to sound nonchalant. "To get off, I mean."
Frank choked on his coffee, placing his mug down on the counter. He put a hand to his mouth as he coughed, recovering from the liquid going down the wrong pipe. "God," he rasped out, recovering from his coughing fit.
"Sorry," You apologized with an apologetic expression.
"It's fine," He cleared his throat and took another sip from his mug before continuing. "You just-" He paused. "Don't say things you don't mean or you're going to give a guy a heart attack."
Frank's heart raced in his chest as he came down from the adrenaline of the coughing fit. Many images had appeared in his mind from your simple offer, ones that he tried to repress but always failed to do so. It wasn't as though he wasn't attracted to you. He'd be blind if he wasn't. But you had been his person, his only support system during his time in rehab and after, that it never quite crossed his mind to do anything with you other than remain platonic. He didn't want anything to jeopardize your friendship because losing you would mean losing the only person he truly cared about.
"But I do mean it," You said replied, furrowing your eyebrows. "You have a problem, I have a solution," You shrugged your shoulders.
Frank remained quiet as he processed what you were saying. He really shouldn't agree to it. He should be rational. He should laugh it off and pretend as though this hasn't happened. A "haha that's so funny" before he would move to go on with his day. But instead, the words that left his mouth were not what he should've done because at the end of the day, Frank Langdon was a selfish man and extremely fucking horny.
"What-" Frank cleared his throat once again. "What would that entail?" He asked, averting his gaze from yours, distracting himself by looking at the marble counter top.
You let out a small huff, almost a laugh, as the tension between the two of you grew. It was soft, tender, but also with the underlying anxiety of the situation. Frank wanted you, he knew he did, just as you wanted him. "Whatever you'd like it to," You said softly. "We can discuss parameters, kinks, consent. And I would like to preface this by saying that our friendship comes before anything." You took a deep breath before continuing. "If we need to communicate about an issue or feel overwhelmed by it, we can talk about it in a healthy manner."
Frank forced himself to look at you once again. His eyes softened at your last statement. "I-I should admit that if we do any of this that I'd be scared," He said softly. "You're my best friend and the person who's anchored me through everything. I don't ever want to lose you over something as stupid as getting my dick wet."
You scoffed at Frank's crudeness, rolling your eyes as you did so. You reached for one of Frank's hands, intertwining your fingers with his. "We've seen one another at our worst," You gave him a small smile. "I don't think something like having sex could ruin our friendship. But if we begin to feel like it's ruining anything, we'll talk about it like the adults we are."
Frank let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. "Okay," He whispered. "Then what else should we discuss?"
And so, a good portion of the day had been spent in the living room, sitting on the couch, and discussing the parameters of your situation. Whenever Frank felt the urge to have sex, he could always come and find you. But he ensured that it wouldn't just be about his pleasure, how he loved going down on a woman and making them cum in a multitude of ways. It was a perfect arrangement, really. Frank got to have sex and you'd finally be able to have someone make you orgasm whenever you wanted.
Later that night, when dinner rolled around, Frank had ordered take out for the both of you. He wanted to make sure you were fed, happy, and comfortable before engaging in anything remotely sexual. Dinner had been a normal accordance. The two of you ate on the couch in the living room. But rather than watching a show, as per usual, you guys spoke to each other.
And by the end of the night, once you had finished eating, you and Frank were sat side by side, his thighs brushing against yours as he had an arm laid across the back of the couch behind you.
"Sometimes I randomly remember the furry we had to treat all those months ago in July, on the day you came back," You spoke, sharing your thoughts with Frank as the two of you usually did. "Like good for them for having fun but I could never dress in a fur-"
"I'm going to kiss you," Frank interrupted, placing his fingers underneath your chin and guiding you to look at him.
Right, the agreement, the discussion that had only concluded a little while ago. The one in which you both agreed to simply be friends with benefits who use one another for pleasure. Kissing, sex, oral, almost anything was on the table. And anytime either of you needed it, the other would put out, with consent of course. "An orgasm for an orgasm" was how Frank had put it earlier and you had laughed.
"Okay," You replied softly, suddenly unable to remember the train of thought you had before as you looked into Frank's eyes. He was handsome, unbelievably so. In the privacy of your thoughts, late at night in your bedroom, you would think of Frank as you got yourself off. And in the morning, you'd pretend nothing happened, going on with your day and simply forgetting about it. But now, you didn't need to.
Frank leaned in and gently placed his lips on top of yours. The kiss was soft and tentative, as though fearful that you'd realize this wasn't something you truly wanted and pull away and act as though nothing happened. But instead, you had kissed him back, deepening the kiss just enough for the both of you to get used to kissing one another.
You weren't sure exactly how long the two of you had been kissing but by the time Frank had pulled away, he dipped his head, pressing kisses along your jaw before kissing your neck. "Thank you," He murmured against your skin. He nipped at your pulse, causing you to gasp.
"You don't need to thank me," You whispered, tilting your head to the side to give Frank better access.
"Yes, I do," He whispered, his breath fanning your skin. He sucked the skin on your pulse point, eliciting a small whine from your lips as you brought a hand to Frank's hair, entangling your fingers in the strands. Frank groaned against your skin as you tugged on his hair, pressing himself against you.
"Thank you," He murmured against your skin once again, his fingers moving to the hem of your shirt. The coolness from his fingers were a stark contrast from the warmth of your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "Can I take this off of you?" Frank asked.
"Yes, please," You replied in a murmur, not trusting of your voice in that moment.
It was foreign to be so turned on by something so simple. You've been turned on before, of course you had, and you've had sex with a few people. But you had never done it with someone you were close to.
Frank pulled off your shirt, throwing the material somewhere in the living room. As it had been both of your guys' day off, neither of you bothered to get dressed into anything fancy. You had been in sweatpants and a t-shirt all day, no bra underneath, while Frank was dressed similarly.
Frank whispered a "Fuck," before pressing kisses all along your collarbone. "Thank you," He breathed against you once again. at your chest. "Noticed you weren't wearing a bra all day," His voice was rough and raspy, as though he were holding back just how truly turned on he was. "Had to stop myself from jerking off in the shower earlier just thinking about you."
The featherlight kisses produced goosebumps along your arms, tickling your skin in just the right way. You allowed yourself to simply just feel, to simply relish in Frank's touch. Your previous sexual endeavors hadn't ever been this gentle or soft with you. They had always prioritized themselves, uncaring on whether it was really good for you or not. But in this moment, this change in dynamic with Frank, it were as though he was worshiping you. And you adored that feeling. His words sent a pulse to your core. You sighed at the image in your head. The idea of Frank standing in the shower, water cascading down his body, while he had a hand wrapped around his cock, was enticing. You wanted nothing more than to have seen it, to have walked in on him touching himself. Maybe at some point, with this agreement the two of you now had, you'd be able to.
Frank took his time kissing you all over, slowly sliding off of the couch until he was kneeling in front of you. With each brush of his lips, a small "thank you" came with it, thanking you for the opportunity to let out his sexual desires on you.
It hadn't taken long before you were completely naked, Frank having lost his shirt. He kneeled in front of your legs, looking up at you with dilated pupils. "I thought this agreement was about your need to get your dick wet," You breathed out, looking down at Frank.
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Perhaps," He said before licking his lips.
"So you don't need to go down on me if you don't want to," You replied, a bit shy due to the position the both of you were in.
Frank only hummed in response before placing a kiss on each knee. "And if I selfishly admit that I get off on going down on a woman?" He asked, resting his chin your knees, his eyebrows raised while he had a small smirk on his face.
You couldn't help the heat you felt pooling between your thighs. You bit your bottom lip, thinking about what he had just said. You've never slept with a guy who got off on eating pussy. It was a rarity, in your opinion, as most guys only do it for a few minutes and then focus more on their own pleasure. But Frank seemed so earnest in how he expressed himself. And really, who are you to deny him of a pleasure when he's the one that's been so sexually frustrated? The agreement was mutual pleasure, after all.
"Then I shouldn't deny you of your pleasures," You replied smoothly. parted them slightly. Frank lifted his head from your lap and placed his hands on your knees.
Your lips parted at the praise, eyes widening just a fraction.
"Good girl," He murmured and winked, trying to lighten the tension a bit but instead, your breath hitched in response. Frank quirked an eyebrow and smirked. "You like that, don't you?"
You licked your lips and nodded your head.
He hummed in response, as though locking that piece of information away. Frank began kissing up your leg, slow and sensually. His eyes closed as he pressed his lips against your skin, gently pulling your legs apart to expose your glistening cunt. As his lips reached your inner thigh, he stopped to look at your exposed core.
"God, you're so fucking wet," Frank lowly groaned, his eyes fixated on your cunt. He licked his lips almost unconsciously, like he was transfixed with the idea of tasting you.
Maybe he wasn't wrong about getting off on the idea of going down on you.
And without any warning, Frank inched closer before diving right into it. You gasped and let out a high pitched noise as Frank's tongue began lapping all around your pussy. You heard a deep inhale from his nose as he breathed you in, taking in your scent.
You whined loudly as your fingers grasped Frank's hair and tugged on the strands. Frank whined against your cunt, his eyes opening to look at you, the blue orbs were glossy and dilated. It was quite obvious to tell that Frank was turned on, especially with the way he was bucking his hips into nothing. The sight before you was extremely attractive.
"Oh my god," You threw your head back in pleasure as Frank began to suck on your clit, grazing the nub ever-so-slightly with his teeth. Frank looped one of his arms under your thigh, bringing your leg to rest over his shoulder.
You hadn't ever had anyone focus primarily on your pleasure before. And the fact that Frank was prioritizing yours, despite this whole endeavor being about his, was more than enough to get that fire igniting deep inside of you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge with each suck of your clit.
You felt Frank's finger prodding your entrance. You let out a shaky breath and as he slowly inserted the digit, you bucked your hips in pleasure. His finger moved in and out of you slowly, getting you used to the feeling as he licked and sucked on your clit. "Frank," You whimpered out, his name falling from your lips like you were made to moan his name in such a way.
Frank groaned against your cunt as he added another digit, curling his fingers to hit your g-spot. You gasped loudly before letting out a choked moan. His fingers moved in and out of you at a quick pace, matching with each suck and flick of Frank's tongue. You felt yourself growing closer with each movement.
"I-I'm so close," You whined, uncaring of how hard you were tugging on Frank's hair. You were far too gone to care about potentially hurting him. Even so, with the way he was groaning and moaning against you, it likely wasn't hurting him at all. Or if it was, it was in a pleasurable way. Regardless, it didn't matter when you felt as though you were entering cloud nine.
Being pleasured by Frank felt almost euphoric, as if he were a drug far too good to resist. It was unlike any other sexual encounter you have had in the past and the moment you began cumming was when you realized this agreement was exactly what both of you needed.
"Oh my go-Frank!" You moaned out, your thighs trying to clamp shut as your orgasm overcame you. It was such an intense orgasm with your body tensing and quivering as you gasped for a breath, moaning Frank's name in a mantra.
When you finally came down from your high, you relaxed against the couch. Frank pulled away from your cunt, his cheeks red, his eyes glossy, and his face glistening with your juices. He looked at blissed out as you felt. Heavy breathing filled the living room as the two of you took a moment to simply look at one another. After a few moments, you licked your lips before speaking. "Let me take care of you," You breathed out, your voice slightly rough.
Frank let out a shaky chuckle as he rested his cheek on your right thigh. "I-uh-" He cleared his throat. "I feel like a teenager with how I came in my pants simply from eating you out.”
Your eyes widened and before you could help yourself, you chuckled. "Oh," You replied. "So you weren't lying when you said you get off on pleasuring a woman," You said with a teasing smile.
Frank looked at you and rolled his eyes. He moved to stand up, placing his hands on your thighs and groaning as he stood up. You couldn't help but look at the wet splotch in his grey sweatpants, evidence that he had truly came in his pants. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, moving your gaze back to Frank's face. He smirked at you and leaned down, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. "Thank you," He murmured once more. "I'm going to go change my pants. Do you want to watch a movie after you get changed?"
"You don't want to have sex?" You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.
Frank smiled at you and shook his head. "I'm satiated right now," He murmured. "And perhaps I'd like to ease into it with you. Is that alright?"
You smiled and nodded your head. "Yes," You replied.
"See you in a few minutes," He said before walking away towards his bedroom.
As he walked away, you sat there for just a moment, naked and exposed, as you gathered your thoughts. You ignored the fluttering in your chest as you took a deep breath before standing up. You gathered your clothes from around the living room and went to your room to change.
Once the both of you were ready, you had spent the rest of the night as you usually did. Sat on the couch, the both of you on your own spots, watching some movie that you had chosen, as if nothing had happened on that very couch. And after the movie had finished, the both of you moved as if you were about to go to bed. That was until Frank grabbed your hand and gently guided you to his bedroom and he spent the night fucking you softly, thanking you for the opportunity to have you in such a way.
And once again, you ignored that persistent fluttering in your chest.
TW: As always: language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, sex, and general mature themes. Kickin this chapter off with some good ol family bonding! Simone wants to have a talk with our redhead (again... yaaaaaayyyyy), which goes totally great xD, A bit of Jennifer, and guess who's popping back in as well? That's right, OLIVE! So we've got a lot of shit to cover from general discomfort and multiple conversations with people no one likes, some inappropriate nonconsensual touching, a bar fight, general violence, blood and all that, some possessive fluff/smut to feed y'all after the long wait, and of course, I gotta do it to ya: a little tension to end the chapter with.
I also just want to thank everyone once again for being so patient with my hiatus, and I hope you all continue to enjoy and love this series as I get back into it!
Chapter 25: Dum Vivimus Vivamus
While we live,
The wind whistled through the old window panes of my bedroom at the Harrow apartment. It was a soft tune, a little squeaky and pitched, but ugly as it sounded, it still made my whole body relax. The creaking, the whistles, and the sound of Patrick’s snores rumbling through the walls were all things I'd gotten into the habit of associating with comfort and safety - feelings that were only further cemented by the warm body wrapped around my own.
Jake's hand pressed firmly against my sternum. The heat of his naked body poured into mine, making the ever-so-slight chill of the room feel colder than it really was. I pulled the covers up over us again, twisting in the bed until I was finally able to see his face.
His brows furrowed for a minute, clearly displeased that I’d moved, but his eyes remained closed as I resettled into the lumpy mattress and his arms rewound themselves around me, correcting the distance my movement had caused. The palms of his hands flattened against my back, sleepily feeling the skin as they pulled me closer. With a deep rumble in his chest, Jake settled again, the furrows slowly relaxing until he looked just as peaceful as he had before.
That morning as I lay awake in my bed, head resting against his muscular arms, listening to the slow, steady breaths he took, I felt so content… at peace, more at peace than I'd ever felt. My fingers idly traced the beautiful features of his face - his straight nose and bushy eyebrows all the way down his cheekbones to the slight point in his chin and his soft, plump lips. He's so beautiful, I thought.
It was the soft moments like these that made it hard for me to remind myself that this was all supposed to be casual. Casual. It was safe, something we'd both agreed to - most likely because of how terrifying anything else seemed to be, but deep down I knew the truth of it. What Jake and I had was anything but just casual.
Still, I wouldn't let the flimsy half-label discourage me. It still provided us with the opportunity to be with one another more publicly without having to suffer the incessant questions. Okay, we'd still likely have to suffer through everyone's questions, but at least now we'd have something agreed on to say. We're casually seeing each other. Easy. Uncomplicated. And not at all what I wanted to say when people asked who Jake was to me.
He's Jake, I'd want to say with that idiotic smile my lips always adopted when saying his name. My Jake.
With a gentle kiss to his jaw and chest, I carefully unwound myself from his arms and crept to my dresser to change. Since our breakfast was rudely interrupted last time, the least I could do was provide a replacement. In a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a tank top, I quietly walked to the kitchen and began the task of cooking.
Unlike my brother, I knew how to turn the radio on at low volume. So there in my family kitchen, I sang along with the old songs on the station Dad loved as I whisked the eggs and fried the bacon. It'd been so long since I'd had a morning like that. Soft. Optimistic. It felt good.
I didn't hear the sound of the door open, or my brother's quiet steps as he stood in his doorway and watched for a minute before calmly stating, “Been a while since you've cooked and sang.”
“Peter!” I hissed, placing a hand over my now puking heart. “You asshole, don't sneak up on me!”
He shrugged. “Consider it payback for last night.”
I hung my head, cheeks burning. “You heard?”
“Hard not to. You and him are…” He made a face. “You know, it's probably best we just erase it from memory, yeah?”
“Sorry,” I answered. “I'll take him to my place next time.”
“I don't need the details,” Peter insisted as he made his way to the bathroom. Turning at the last second, he pointed at me. “Seriously, zero details, Lee.”
With a poorly suppressed grin, I pretended to zip my lips. “You got it, big brother.”
Maybe it was the smell of food or the sound of the shower running or the empty bed that made Jake wake up and tiredly open my bedroom door. Shirtless and still rubbing his eyes, he grumbled, “Smells good.”
“Figured I'd make breakfast since ours got interrupted last time,” I replied, trying not to let how giddy I felt seep into my words.
Jake yawned one last time before he slid behind me and flopped his upper body onto my back. His head fell onto my shoulder, lips pressing a soft kiss to one of the many hickeys left there. “Morning.”
My heart flipped, and the words came out breathless. “Good morning.”
“I could get used to this, ya know,” he said, hands winding around my waist. “Waking up in your old ass bed. You cooking me breakfast.”
I scoffed and playfully elbowed him in the gut. “Well, don't. You're the one who’s doing the cooking next time. This is what? Two breakfasts you owe me now?”
“One. I bought breakfast yesterday.”
“I didn't eat it.”
“It counts.”
Chuckling, I looked at him and shook my head. “No, it doesn't.”
Jake's smile was soft, full of a boyish youth that he didn't normally carry. “Says who?”
“Says me,” I shrugged him off my back and pressed a kiss to his lips. “And I expect two make-up breakfasts.”
Finally, Jake relented. “Fine, you're the one that's gonna have to stomach my shitty eggs twice in a row.”
“If I can survive Patrick's, I'm sure I'll survive yours.”
We stood there, staring up at each other for a moment. Both of our minds racing with all the possible mornings we'd have together. Both of us paralyzed by the sheer fear that came with thinking of the future. Both of us realizing more and more that casual was a really bad word to describe this feeling. The shower turned off, and Peter cracked the door. “I don't know who's doing what and I don't want to, but it smells like someone's bacon is burning!”
I gently shoved Jake toward my room. “Go get a shirt on before we scar my brother for life.”
“Like I haven't seen Patrick's bare ass before,” he retorted. “You Harrows are wishy-washy about your rules on house nudity.”
“Shut up,” I said through my laugh. “Hurry or breakfast will get cold, asshole.”
He changed while I put the food on the plates with all the delicate grace the restaurant had taught me over the years. The simple omelets looked like something right off our menu once I was done. Patrick strode through the front door with a beaming grin and reached for a fork as I cleaned up the kitchen. “Yum!”
I slapped his hand. “Not for you!”
“Ow!” He whined. “Alright, new rule, next time you wanna make breakfast for your boyfriend, make some for everyone! Geez.”
“How's Katie?” I asked, ignoring his “rule” completely.
Patrick shrugged, but his dopey grin told me everything I needed to know. “She's good.”
“And you make fun of me for bein’ soft.”
“Oi,” he warned with a point. “Any time, any place. I'll still kick your ass.”
The challenge made my lips quirk. “You think so?”
“I know so, girly,” he teased, flexing his muscles. “Powerful Pattie doesn't lose fights.”
Peter exited the bathroom, towel secured around his hips, and pointed at us. “Shut that shit down. Oz'll never let me be if he catches you two in the ring together again.”
Jake slowly exited my bedroom, an awkward expression on his face as he nodded to my brothers. “Morning.”
“Mornin’, little brother!” Patrick replied with a loud clap on his back. “Do me a favor and talk some sense into your woman about the breakfast situation.”
“She's not my woman.”
“I'm not his woman!”
As soon as our unanimous protest faded, Patrick held his hands up. “Alrighty then.” He quickly snagged a piece of bacon from Jake's plate, dodging my hands and scurrying to his room with an evil laugh.
“You'll pay for that, asshole!” I shouted in Irish.
Peter took a piece of my plate with a smirk. “What? I gotta make it even.”
“Both of you are on my ass-kicking list.”
“Like that's new,” he replied, rolling his eyes and heading toward his room. “If you two find yourselves overcome with the urge to make out or something, please take it to the alley for all our sakes.”
I ran my hands down my face with an exasperated sigh. “Oh, my god.”
Jake chuckled as he pulled a chair out and sat in front of his plate. “I think your brothers wanted to eat breakfast with us.”
“They just wanted the food cause they're little thieves!” I shouted.
“Big talk coming from you, ya criminal!” Patrick hollered from his room.
I scoffed, “Shut up!”
Jake laughed into his plate before gesturing to the seat across from him. “You gonna holler all morning, or are we gonna have breakfast?”
“You shut up, too,” I grumbled, sitting across from him. “Or I'll make you get me three breakfasts.”
“The horror!” He teased.
We ate our food, laughing and teasing each other in a way that felt like we’d been doing this all along. I watched him eat, shoveling a huge forkful of eggs into his mouth, nearly choking himself, and I just couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled up out of my throat.
“What?” He asked with a slight cough. “Haven’t seen a guy almost choke on eggs before?”
“No, that was definitely a first.”
“I aim to please.” With a wink, he returned to inhaling his food, and that stupid warmth spread through me again.
When did you manage this? I wondered as the morning stretched on. Jake and I showered together. He used my shampoo and conditioner as if it weren’t something he had never done before. We shared the tiny bathroom mirror, and his ocean eyes stared just a little too long while I did my makeup. My brothers dragged him down to the gym to talk about training strategies. It was all so normal, and yet I couldn’t place why.
When did you become such a big part of my life? I thought, watching him.
“I’m tellin’ you,” Patrick said. “Give me three months tops, and you’ll be a force to reckon with in that ring, little brother!”
Jake rolled his eyes, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. “Whatever you say, Prancin’ Pattie!”
“Oi not you too!”
“See you at work.” Jake’s hand caressed my lower back. He leaned forward as if he was going to kiss me, before his eyes shifted to my brothers, who stared at us.
“See you later,” I replied, closing the distance and pressing my lips to his without a second thought.
From behind, I could hear their teasing oos and aahs. I lifted my hand and flipped them off. Jake and I were sort of seeing each other now, kissing was totally normal even for casual couples. Everyone else could tease and joke all they wanted; it didn't matter to me, and if the grin on Jake's face as I pulled away told me anything, he didn't care what they thought either.
As he left, Patrick hollered, “Don't forget about training tomorrow!”
I stayed behind to help at the gym for an extra hour before deciding to stop by my apartment for more clothes and a shower with decent water pressure. Had I known what would be waiting on my doorstep, I would have just gone to work.
Simone stood by my door, lifting her hand to knock just as I entered the complex. I froze for a moment, quickly contemplating my odds of escaping before she saw me. Then her eyes met mine. Fuck! Guess we're doing this.
“Simone,” I greeted, reluctantly letting the door close behind me.
Simone offered up a strained, but oddly friendly smile. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“About Jake?”
“Yes,” she answered. “And you.”
Fantastic. I'd expected this conversation, just not so soon. So, with the most reluctant of sighs, I unlocked the door and stepped to the side, holding it open for her. “Guess now's as good a time as any.”
Closing the door behind her felt like trapping myself with a starving crocodile. Simone let her eyes wander around my apartment, taking in the sights of old paintings and knick-knacks as though each one gave her some deep insight into me. Whether that confirmed or contradicted the opinion she'd already held, I didn't know, and quite frankly, I didn't care. She could look and think all she wanted; this conversation was going to go the same way no matter what.
“You have a lovely home,” she said quietly as she ran her fingers along the back of my couch.
“Thank you.”
With a soft, almost gentle laugh, she shook her head. “I don't know why I'd pictured something more… Loud.”
I didn't take the obvious bait, opting to instead lean against the counter and watch her with a simple reply, “My apartment isn't what you came to talk about.”
She nodded, but I could see the obvious frustration simmering in her eyes. With a chuckle, she turned to look out my window. “Straight to it then?”
“Preferably.”
“Alright then. This… Thing of yours, it's a mistake.” Simone's concerned, caring mask was a convincing one. It made me wonder just how many times she'd had this conversation with women in Jake's life. Unlike them, I wouldn't be fooled, and I sure as hell wouldn't be intimidated. “Jake is a mistake.”
My jaw clenched, and every inch of me wanted to fight - rage - on his behalf. “That's a hell of a statement coming from someone who cares for him.” Or claims to.
The corner of her mouth twitched as she struggled to contain her true feelings about my obvious attitude. “It's the truth. I've known Jake his whole life. I've seen who he really is, and being with him is a mistake. Every single woman he's been romantically involved with has come away with a broken heart and trauma. Singers, dancers, hostesses, servers… It always ends the same.”
“I doubt it was the same every single time.” You're far more creative than that.
“Some men act damaged and dangerous to get attention, but some men simply are damaged and dangerous.” She sighed, looking back out my window as if lost in a thought. “Jake is a broken person, Lena. He's volatile and unpredictable and cruel.”
Was this meant to scare me off? For all the digging Simone had done, she'd learned nothing about how broken, volatile, and cruel I could be. Deeper than that, it felt wrong that she, of all people, tried to claim Jake was cruel. “That's not Jake.”
“I understand where you're coming from. I do. But, the truth is, you don't really know him.”
“No one but you knows him, right?”
With a quiet scoff, she shrugged. “When your life is so intertwined with someone else's, you tend to know them better than anyone. Jake and I… We're linked together. For better or worse.”
“I know a bit about being intertwined with someone, so believe me when I say I understand your point of view. I do, Simone. Really. But the thing about people like that is that one person is always holding the reins. And the person that isn't has to adopt a lot of masks to try and remain in that link.” I shook my head with a sharp exhale. “The person Jake is with you isn't the same person he is with everyone else.”
“Are you insinuating that what Jake and I have is unhealthy?” Simone sneered, head turning back towards me and eyes filled with the emotions she really felt. Rage.
Undeterred, I nodded, “It is, and I think you know that.”
Clenching her jaw, I watched Simone struggle to smile as she shook her head and let her hands fall at her sides. “Well, I did my part in trying to warn you. If you're so set on this path, I guess we'll just have to let it all play out, won't we?”
“Looks that way.”
She glanced back at the window and grabbed her bag off my counter. “Good luck, Lena. You'll need it with him.”
“Have a nice walk, Simone.” Shutting the door behind her felt like such a relief, though part of me had wanted her to look back just so I could slam it in her face.
*
He walked through the crowded streets near his apartment, a heavy gym bag slung over his shoulder, bodies of people slamming into his own left and right, and the noise of the city droning on in his ears. Yet, despite all of the things that would normally ruin his day, Jake couldn’t shake the stupid grin that had been glued to his face since he’d woken up. Waking up in the Harrow house wasn’t something new, but waking up with her was, and god did it make him feel… happy.
Before, when Jake thought about the moments he felt happy, truly happy, they were far and few between. There were hazy memories of his mother’s laugh as they walked on the beach, memories with Simone before she left for France, and memories of his first bartending gig in some rinky-dink club. He’d lived his life holding those few happy things as close as he could, and yet more often than not it felt like the tighter he clung the further they got from him.
Now, when Jake looked back on it, he found a collection of memories to look back on. Patrick calling him little brother, standing up for him, and taking him under his wing in the boxing ring. Jake couldn’t remember the last time it felt like anyone actually believed in him the way Pat did. Peter opening up to him, putting his trust in him when it came to things Jake knew he considered important. Prue taking the time to teach him sign language and always offering him the same kindness she showed everyone she loved. Quinn trusting him enough to consider him an older brother, helping him - forcing him sometimes - to face the facts and rise to every occasion. Ozzy, opening his home, his bar, his everything up to him without reserve or hesitation. The bikers making him feel like he was apart of something bigger and better than himself in moments of need. And then, of course, there was her.
His happiest memories were of Lena. Her smile, her laugh, that scrunch in her nose when she did either. Almost every single time he thought about moments when he felt genuinely happy, she was at the center. It was something he once would have found terrifying and maybe even a little pathetic, but after everything they’d been through, after everything he’d experienced beside her, Jake couldn’t find it in himself to feel any of those old weights dragging him down. All he wanted to do was be with her, sitting on that old leather couch or smushed together in one of the booth seats in the bar, or curled up together in either of their beds. It didn’t matter where they were or what they did, so long as Lena was there, Jake knew he’d be entertained… happy.
When he stepped into his apartment, that dumb smile still straining his cheeks, everything felt different, and for the first time in a long time, that wasn’t a bad thing.
*
The locker room was abuzz with the latest gossip when I arrived at work, and judging by the pointed stares and quiet whispers and giggles, Jake and I’s newfound “relationship” was the topic on everyone’s tongues. When I tugged my shirt off and began buttoning up the blouse, Sasha not so discreetly pointed at my neck, adorned with a new row of hickeys. I rolled my eyes. “Are we gonna do this every day now?”
“No,” the Russian insisted, laughing with Ari and Heather. “Just until the shock of it all wears off, of course!”
“And that will be when exactly?”
He thought long and hard, a grin spreading on his lips as he shrugged. “A month, four tops.”
“Greeaaattt,” I deadpanned, hiding a grin of my own.
“Oh, admit it, Tiger Bitch, you like the attention!”
“I’d like the attention a lot more if you guys weren’t such pervs about it.”
“Whose being a perv?” Jake asked the second he got upstairs.
I had to glance away to hide the idiotic smile and slight blush that now tinted my cheeks. “Sasha, as always.”
“Shoulda known.” Jake gave the Russian a pat on the shoulder. “What are we being perverted about now Sash?”
“I am only making obvious observations about the nature of your relations with our dear Tiger, Jakey.” Sasha slowly made his way out into the hall, mumbling quickly, “And the hot spicy sex you two are having now.”
Jake rolled his eyes and opened his locker, immediately sighing at the jacket sitting inside it. “Seriously? What’s it gonna take for you to just keep this?”
“It’s your jacket,” I replied happily. “I’m just being a good person and returning it to you when you leave it at my apartment.”
“It’s my jacket that I’ve been trying to give you for months now, and you, for reasons unknown, have been refusing to accept.” He held it out to me. “So spill it, Princess, what’s it gonna take for you to just keep the jacket?”
I hummed. “Maaayyybeee if you gave it to me properly, I’d accept it.”
“Okay,” he sighed, stepping forward until he had me crowded up against lockers beside my open one, the jacket snug between us. “Princess, would you please take my jacket?”
“Mmm, nope.”
“What?”
“Nope, can’t do it.”
“You just said -”
“I said maybe I’d accept it.”
“Why do you have to be so difficult?” He teased.
I shrugged. “Maybe I just like our game too much.”
“Maybe you’re just a nut job,” Jake replied, shoving the jacket in my still-open locker. I opened my mouth, the protest getting smothered as Jake quickly pressed his lips to mine. After he pulled back he grinned down at me. “Make this easy, just this once?”
“Fine,” I huffed in fake outrage. “But next time I’m gonna be so stubborn about it.”
“I have no doubt.”
That shift felt different, or maybe I just did. It didn’t matter how shitty the night got or how rude the guests were, one look at that stupid, too hot for his own good bartender, and it all rolled right off my shoulders. Of course, that simple, happy feeling just couldn’t last, especially not when my mother waltzed through the front door, skipping the line entirely and taking her usual seat in the dining room.
To my surprise, she didn’t make a fuss. There were no dishes sent back or unreasonable requests made. She ate her food, made conversation with Howard, and thanked her servers. Anyone else would have thought this was progress, an olive branch to help our strained relationship, but I knew what it really was. After the shift ended and everyone had left to change, leaving me behind the bar, she approached with a sigh. “I’m heading back to Paris for a few months.”
“Good for you.” Just do it. Tell me what you want and go.
She looked around and scoffed. “I suppose it is pointless, now, after everything, to ask you to be reasonable.”
“Yeah,” I replied quickly, coldly. “It is.”
“Very well. Goodbye, Lena.”
“Goodbye, Jennifer.”
“I do hope you know what you're getting them into,” she muttered in French as she passed and exited the restaurant, hopefully, for good.
A slap to the face would have felt better. Her words echoed in my head as I wiped the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes and quickly busied my hands. The once quiet dining room was flooded with voices, happily teasing and making jokes without a care in the world. Are you really gonna take this away from them? I asked myself, unable to look up from the spot on the bar that I was scrubbing. You know what he'll do… My jaw clenched as I played through the memories of Tony's violence. Are you that selfish?
“Hey,” Jake's soft voice whispered next to me, his hand settling gently over my own, stopping the forceful movement that had begun to strain my fingers. He craned his neck to meet my eyes, and it was like he could see everything playing in my mind without needing any words exchanged. “Let's go get drunk.”
“I'm helping behind the bar tonight,” I replied, still stiff… Still uncertain as to whether or not to push him away.
Jake grinned that dumb grin, “Drinks and a show? Must be my lucky night.”
The weight in my chest lifted with the laugh that bubbled up out of my throat. How do you do that? I almost asked for what must've been the hundredth time. No matter how many unanswered questions separated Jake from knowing exactly what I was so afraid of, he always remained steady. Fearless. It was something that never ceased to amaze and terrify me.
“Must be,” I finally said, a sigh of relief filling my lungs with air and dispelling the thoughts of what if and reminding me of my promise to myself.
I won't let him take anything away from me again.
Whatever Tony had planned was going to be big, loud, and dangerous. It always was and always would be. There was no avoiding it, but I was strong enough to get through it. I had my family, my friends, and I had Jake. I wasn't the same terrified, small little girl that couldn't fight back. And, most importantly, I wasn't alone.
Both of us felt my fingers ease beneath Jake's palm, and with a touch so light it sent goosebumps spreading along my skin, Jake pulled his hand away and dragged his fingers up my arm. “Lead the way, Princess.”
“I hardly need to guide you. You know where Ozzy's is.”
“Yeah, but I wanna look at your ass before you spend all night behind the bar.”
I rolled my eyes, but still turned and bent over to put a few stray glasses away, giving Jake the view he apparently wanted before I pulled his jacket on, and we stepped out into the cold. He reached over and quietly pressed his hand to my back. “Tag.”
I halfheartedly reached back, still shaking my mother’s words. Jake jumped out of the way. “Seriously?”
“Did you think I was just gonna stand there and let you tag me?” He asked, mimicking the words I’d said to him during our first game. It felt like so long ago. Jake winked. “You’re gonna have to actually try, Princess, or you’ll be it forever.”
He’d already turned when I started sprinting towards him, dodging through crowds of people and even throwing himself in front of cars to evade me. “Stop dodging me!”
“And let you tag me? Never!”
“You’re gonna get yourself killed, dumbass!” I laughed, watching him almost eat shit on the pavement.
“If I die, do I win?”
“No!”
By the time Jake stopped running, we’d shoved our way through the crowd at Ozzy’s, both of us slamming into the bar and making Peter and Patrick jump out of their seats slightly. I slapped him on the arm. “You’re it!” He lifted his hand to tag me again. “NO TAG BACKS!”
“Jesus, they’re worse than they were before,” Patrick mumbled.
The rest of the group eventually caught up after I’d made my way behind the bar to help with the after-shift rush, and for a minute it felt like the night was settling down, until Olive made her way through the crowd and to the corner of the bar where Jake stood against the wall making conversation with Prue.
“Hey, Jake,” she called out.
He practically groaned as he turned towards her. “Seriously?”
“Relax,” she chided. “I’m just here to say goodbye.”
“You finally get fired?”
“No, Jennifer and I are going to Paris.” She stepped closer. “I was gonna ask you to come with.”
“Why the hell would I want to go with you?”
“‘Cause it’d be fun,” she answered. “Do you seriously wanna spend the rest of your life in that stuffy restaurant? Or in this shit hole?”
I didn’t hear Jake’s reply over Quinn’s loud. “Who the fuck does she think she is calling this a shit hole?”
When I turned my head back, Olive was pressed up against him, lips on his. Jake seemed just as surprised, his hands quickly coming up to her arms and his head pulling back as far as he could make it until their lips separated.
"Oh come on," Olive purred with a quiet laugh. "It's not like this is our first kiss."
Quinn's eyes went wide as she watched me stalk around the bar. I didn't bother listening to Jake's reply. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that she'd finally crossed the line. “I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."
Olive scoffed, not moving an inch from where she'd trapped Jake in the corner. “Why, because you're feeling insecure?”
Quinn gave me that glance as I shook my head. “You're making people uncomfortable. So it's time to go.”
“I still don't know what he sees in you.” Anyone else might've thought she meant Jake, but I knew who she really meant.
“I'm not gonna say it again.”
She turned back to Jake with a great big grin, her hands wandering down his body. My fingers were unhooking the backs of my earrings while Jake's hands grabbed hold of Olives. Her fingers barely grazed the buckle of his belt and the metal of his zipper when I set my earrings in Quinn's already waiting hand. Jake glared down at her, sternly reiterating that he wasn't interested, “Enough, Olive.”
That was when she forced herself up onto the tips of her toes and pressed her lips to his. My jaw clenched, and my body moved on its own. All the rage I'd been containing finally exploded inside me. Olive… Olivia, whoever the fuck she was, was getting her ass kicked tonight.
Jake tore his mouth away from hers mere seconds before my hand wound in that ugly fake red hair and pulled. Olive screamed as I threw her off Jake and onto the floor next to the bar. She tentatively touched her head before glaring up at me. “You fucking bitch!”
“I'm done playing nice.” I watched her stand and poorly attempt to prepare herself for this fight. “The snide comments, the glares, the ignoring, the hair, even shoving me down the fucking stairs, I can move past. I don't care enough about you to let that affect me.”
Olive swung, badly.
My hand clamped around her wrist, and I threw my head into her nose. The snap was satisfying enough for me to ignore the pain that erupted across my forehead and the way my vision swam. “But, I do care about this.”
With a desperate, wild fury in her eyes, Olive spat at me. “You broke my nose!”
Dodging her attempt to claw at me, I grabbed her hair again, using that leverage to slam her head against the bartop. “How dare you walk in here.”
“You fucking psycho bitch!”
“How fucking dare you try to force yourself on Jake.” Her head slammed into the bartop again. “My Jake.”
Olive's head hit the bar two, maybe three more times before two arms wound around me and another set of hands deftly removed my grip from her hair, leaving a few of the dyed strands between my fingers. Peter then slid between her and me. “Okay, that's enough, Lena.”
Pat's body shook against my back as he laughed. “I think she gets the message.”
Holding her nose and sobbing, Olive began shouting, “All of you are fucking insane! It's no wonder your mother wants nothing to do with you!”
“Suck a dick, you fucking bitch!” Quinn replied, getting in a punch of her own before rolling her eyes and stepping away at Peter’s insistence.
Olive's eyes met mine. “He's better off without you.”
I knew it wasn't Jake she meant. “If you want him, you can fucking have him. I'm never going back to that hellhole.”
The bouncers escorted Olive out, and Ozzy immediately started closing the bar down with a frustrated sigh. I shrugged Patrick’s arms off me and took my earrings from Quinn's palm, eyes drifting to Jake as I carefully put them back in. He fought a satisfied grin, one brow arched as he started opening his mouth to speak, when Ozzy interrupted him.
“Upstairs,” Ozzy said, pointing to the alley door. “You’re grounded.”
I scoffed. “Grounded? I'm twenty-seven, Oz, I don't think -”
“I don't care how old you are,” he replied. “Grounded. Get your ass upstairs.”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes as I picked the strands of Olive's hair out from between my fingers. “Seriously? I didn't do anything wrong!”
Patrick scratched the back of his neck. “You did just break a bitches nose.”
My head turned as I glared at him. “Whose side are you on?”
“I let ya hit her, didn't I?” He held up his fingers, “Twice!”
“It was more like three or four if we're counting the bar slams,” Peter corrected.
Ozzy shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I'm gonna count to five and your ass better be out that back door, or I swear to god, Lena, I'll ground you for a whole month.”
“This is bullshit! I am an adult woman!”
“One,” he started.
I groaned but followed the big man's orders. The remaining mass of my friends and family began laughing as I trudged along, slowing down to flip everyone at the bar off. “Four!” Oz shouted, making me rush to the back door.
“I'm going! God!” I yelled, making sure to slam the door behind me.
When the bar closed, I could hear the group yelling up at my window, wishing me a good night and making fun of the fact that I, a twenty-seven-year-old woman, was grounded. It was fucking ridiculous! Olive deserved to get her ass beat, and I had shown great restraint for months.
After the front door closed, signaling that the bar had been locked up for the night and Oz had gone, I practically threw myself out of my bed, shoes still on and jacket hanging over my arm just in case the walk to Jake's was cold. But when I opened my bedroom door, Ozzy was standing expectantly across the table. “Come to say goodnight?”
“In your shoes,” Patrick giggled.
“And with a jacket,” Peter added.
“I'm an adult, Oz. You can't ground me.”
Ozzy quirked a brow. “Can't I? You’re still my daughter, and you still crossed a line tonight.”
“How?” I demanded. “She deserved that ass kicking! All I did was stand up for my bo- Jake.”
Patrick and Peter whispered to each other, laughing at my near slip in words. “I understand that, and you aren't grounded because of the fight itself.”
“Then why-”
“What is the first house rule?”
God damn it. “No fighting in the bar.”
Oz nodded to my bedroom. “Well, off to bed then.”
With a frustrated huff, I crossed my arms. “I'll just wait until you leave.”
The big man rolled his eyes, laughing, and pulled an old spare blanket out of the cupboard by the laundry machines. “Do you think I'm stupid? I know all the tricks, darling girl. The door shuts too loudly for you to sneak out of. Your bedroom window doesn't open enough for you to fit through anymore. Patrick's room has creaky floorboards and Peter's window has been stuck shut since you were six.” With a victorious grin, Ozzy began setting up a makeshift bed on the old couch. “So, goodnight, love. We'll see you in the morning!”
I groaned, turning on my heel and slamming my bedroom door behind me in feigned frustration. The big man was right, my window was useless, Patrick's room was a minefield of loud creaks, the front door was too loud, and Peter's window was broken. It was nearly impossible to sneak out of the old Harrow apartment. Nearly.
To pass the time, I quietly started packing a small bag. I changed out of my clunky shoes and into an old pair of slip-ons that would have no traction on the old wood floor. I put my jacket on and laid down on the bed, patiently listening to the faint noises from the old TV and the loud snores of Patrick. Ozzy's snores came only a half hour later, shaking the walls more and more as he fell deeper and deeper into sleep.
Showtime.
Ozzy had remembered all of my old sneak-out spots, but the one my brothers and I had collectively agreed to keep between the three of us was left wide open. The window next to the couch led directly out to the fire escape. The ladder had long been stuck half up, leaving a sizable drop at the bottom, a drop that just so happened to be cushioned by an old, beat-up leather couch.
I was careful in my movements, letting my feet slide across the old wood floor to minimize the noise. The window was right where Ozzy lounged, snoring happily as the TV lights shone over him. I carefully slid the window open and ducked outside, closing it behind me with a click that the TV drowned out. From there, it was just a tiny jump.
The couch squeaked beneath my weight, the worn cushions barely taking my fall. "Ow," I grumbled, shaking out the minor ache that rattled up my knees.
Just like that, I was out on the streets, hailing a cab to Jake's apartment. Easy. Oz would be livid tomorrow, but that wasn't my problem tonight, and I wasn't going to let anything ruin my victory.
I practically skipped out of the cab and up the stairs to Jake's door, knocking in an annoying rhythm. He opened the door, a smug smirk already on his lips as he leaned against the frame. “Aren't you grounded?”
“I'm very sneaky,” I replied, sliding into place beside him. “You gonna let me in or not?”
“I dunno,” he chuckled. “Isn't this aiding and abetting a fugitive?”
Rolling my eyes, I huffed. “I can go, if you're gonna be smug. I'm sure there's plenty of dickhead bartenders that'd love to have me stay the night.”
He pulled me inside. “Lucky for both of us, that won't be necessary.”
The door clicked closed behind me as I cupped the back of Jake's neck and pulled myself against his body to press our lips together. His prideful smugness was so palpable I could taste it on his tongue as he deepened the kiss. His hands slid down my body, taking handfuls of my ass and squeezing. I groaned into his mouth and ran my fingers through his hair as he pulled away to catch his breath. “So… I’m your Jake now?”
I shrugged, ignoring the spike of warmth that started to burn in my chest, moving back just enough to toss my jacket onto the floor. “Aren't you?”
“Maybe,” he replied, eyes following every move I made. “I think I need to hear you say it again just to be sure.”
“Your ego doesn't need any more stroking tonight,” I replied, my face now burning just as hot as I busied my hands with my pants buttons.
Jake laughed then, holding my face in his hands as he watched me kick my pants off. “Oh come on, Princess, stroke my ego some more.”
Using his wrists to pull myself up into another kiss, I nipped his bottom lip. “Would you grow up?”
“Me?” He asked in that teasing tone, eyes sparkling with the laughter he repressed. “You're the one who’s grounded.”
With a huff, I pulled back and stared up at him, red-faced, my pants already off, and an unbearably giddy, embarrassing feeling making me feel the true weight of my words. “Do you want to have sex or not?”
Jake grinned, eyes greedily taking in the sights as he shrugged. “I'm your Jake. You tell me.”
“You are impossible,” I groaned, grabbing him by the shirt and pressing my lips to his again.
I could feel Jake's smile as he kissed me back with equal enthusiasm. I could feel the mirthful laughter rumbling in his chest. It wasn't as heated as our other kisses. It was… Playful. When we pulled apart, both of us would laugh and not so gracefully tug at the other’s clothes. It was silly and stupid, but for whatever reason, that just made me feel more.
For as long as I could remember, I was told that intimacy was something serious. It was delicate and fragile, only to be handled with devoted care. My mother and Tony had groomed me to be their perfect porcelain doll, one that lived to serve them. It'd gotten so bad that whenever I saw Dad and Ozzy in their usual playfulness, I'd get angry.
They're supposed to love each other, I'd think. Love is no place for such silliness. It took time to see the truth - to understand that intimacy, sex, love, relationships of every kind thrived in those moments. People could be themselves in front of each other without judgment or punishment. They saw each other as they were, and they accepted one another.
There, in Jake's apartment, as I finally giggled at his teasing, I felt a rush of joy. He saw me… He saw the messy hair and the snorting laugh and the unique oddness that was me. Jake saw it all, and he accepted it, no judgment, punishment, or fixing. He accepted me just as I was.
He looked down at the sudden serious expression on my face and the slight wetness that had begun to make my eyes sting, and he paused his teasing with a more genuine smile. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I answered, my throat feeling just a bit tighter.
“I was just kidding,” he continued, apparently not convinced by my answer.
Shaking my head, I took hold of the chain around his neck and pulled myself up into him. “Just shut up and kiss me, my Jake.”
Without any more coaxing, Jake pressed his lips to mine. His arms wrapped around me as he pressed forward until the back of my legs hit his bed. One of his arms stayed firmly wrapped around me while the other braced himself as we fell back into his sheets.
Our lips knew this dance. Our bodies knew each other in a way I wasn't sure I'd ever had before. As he pulled away, sucking in a deep breath and moving his mouth down the column of my throat, I couldn't help but picture her. Her words had been whispered against his skin, her hands had touched him, her lips had been pressed to his more than once. And before I could understand it, an ugly green thing curled up inside me.
“So, you kissed Olive?”
“A while ago,” Jake assured, lifting himself from my neck.
I hummed, hands trailing down his chest. “When?”
Jake looked elated as he asked, “Are you jealous?”
“Maybe,” I admitted, cautiously.
He shook his head, breathing a chuckle across my face. “Careful, Princess, I don't think my ego can inflate any more.”
My legs squeezed his hips. “I'm sure you'll manage.” With an all too innocent bat of my lashes, I asked again, “So, when'd you kiss her?”
“The night I got shitfaced, and you dragged me into your bed.” He shrugged a shoulder, the muscles flexing as he leaned further over me. “I don't remember much about it.”
“Oh?” I smiled, a proud feeling making my own ego swell. “Was she bad at it?”
“No,” he answered honestly. “She just wasn't you.”
The words felt like lightning scattering across my skin, scorching, sinking deep into my wounded soul like ink. I expected to feel the sickly bubbling of the forever raw brands that Tony had left there. Every time I’d ever had something with even a hint of genuine care, those old wounds burned and festered deeper inside me until the pain of them was all I could feel. As Jake's words settled over them, it felt like ice, gently settling inside me, cooling that painful burn until it was almost unnoticeable.
He was my Jake. And whether I'd anticipated it or not, somehow… Somewhere down the road, I had become his. His Lena. The possessive nature of it all should have made me feel something different - something worse, but it didn't.
I liked being Jake's Lena.
Everything else faded away. Jennifer, Olive, Simone… Even Tony. The longer I spent in Jake’s arms, the more his hands caressed my skin, and my mouth memorized his, the more everything that wasn’t us floated away. Our bare bodies twisted and twined together like the world’s most complicated and fucked up puzzle, but somehow our sharp edges and oddly shaped pieces fit together well enough.
My soft gasps and heated moans filled Jake’s apartment as he took handfuls of my thighs and pulled me exactly where I wanted to be. His mouth hovered over mine, breathing as though I was his source of air as his cock slid into me. “God,” he groaned, forehead pressing against mine. “You’re perfect.”
Perfect, I thought, my eyes squeezing together until I saw white. Pleasure pulsed up my spine as he moved. “Just for you.”
Jake chuckled, dark eyes taking in every inch of me, pausing where his cock vanished inside me. “All this, just for me?”
“Course,” I whispered, trying not to lose myself just yet. “You’re my Jake after all.”
His thrusts stuttered, eyes closing as he groaned. “I am absolutely, one hundred percent all yours, Princess.”
Mine, the word curled possessively inside my chest as I used Jake’s distracted state to flip him onto his back, setting a new… desperate pace that left him breathless beneath me. “Good,” I groaned into his mouth. “Because I am absolutely, one hundred percent all yours too, tough guy.”
“My Lena,” he whispered, hands gripping my waist tight. His head was practically thrown back, that dumb grin suddenly taking over his face.
The street lights spilled in through the curtains, as all the noise outside faded away. All that was left was us. Once we were spent, we moved through his apartment as though everything was something we’d done a million times before. We showered together, washing one another with slow, deliberate hands. We brushed our teeth together. We shared Jake’s clothes, and we hopped into his bed like it was just another night.
I looked up at Jake through droopy eyelids and stupidly smiled, unable to ignore or deny the pure joy that had seized every inch of me. “Goodnight, my Jake.”
He smiled too, a lazy, sleepy, equally dumb grin that I quickly decided I loved. “Goodnight, my Lena.”
With a sloppy kiss and my head tucked beneath his, the steady beating of his heart against my cheek, sleep came easily. There were no racing thoughts of what-ifs or questions itching to be answered. He was mine, and I was his, and right now that was all I needed to know.
*
From the window of the plane, Tony watched the snowflakes build up on the glass and slowly melt out of existence. It would take a few hours for it to reach New York, but when it did, the city would soon be covered in that pristine, heavenly white. And, Lena would be plagued with memories of blood, tainting the peaceful sight of snowflakes in the air.
It brought him no joy, the fact that she would suffer, but actions had consequences… Mistakes often had a price to pay, and this was hers. The only remedy for her was him, a fact she knew but still refused to admit. Jules occupied the seat across from him, glaring at the faintest view of lights in the distance. “Jules, please. You'll hurt yourself glaring for too long.”
“I should be there to oversee the project.”
“I appreciate your hard work, my friend, but do not underestimate my planning.” He smiled. “Claude is more than capable of finishing things.”
Jules scoffed. “Claude is a self-righteous, overconfident -”
“Think over your words carefully, Jules. He may be a fuck up, but he's still my blood.”
The man finally relented. “I just worry he'll do something rash and risk all you've put together, Sir.”
“Your loyalty means more to me than you will ever know, my friend. But, don't fret over this any longer.” He turned his gaze back out the window. “My cousin will do what he's been told to. Or he'll pay the price when we return.”
“And Lena, Sir?” He asked carefully. “How can you be sure what she'll do?”
A soft chuckle filled the private jet. “Lena is mine. I know her better than she knows herself. She'll follow the plan, even if she doesn't realize it. And when all's said and done, she'll be back home where she belongs.”
Jules shook his head. “I should have just gone to retrieve her years ago.”
“Where’s the thrill in that?” Tony asked, quietly accepting the glass from the flight attendant's hand. “Let her live as she sees fit for the time being.”
“She's running around the city with that filthy bartender-”
“Before him, it was the cop, and before that, it was the musician, and before that, the florist, then the poet and the teacher and the dancer.” Tony looked into Jules’ eyes, not for one moment pouring anything but confidence into them. “She can run around with whomever she likes, but one fact will always be the same. I had her before any of them, and I know her like no one else does or ever will.”
“It's disrespectful,” his friend answered.
He nodded in agreement. “It is, but such has always been her deeper nature. Let her do as she pleases, for now, she and I will have the rest of our lives together soon enough.”
Let us live.
Busy Daydreaming @insanedreamer296 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
discoholicmusic
jbbartram-illu
theartofmadeline
kaledo-art
janainaart
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
yousharknotpass
izzy806
