Guys is it weird to not have had a Wattpad phase? I didn’t start reading fanfic till I was like, 14 and I went to AO3.
Also, why do people find AO3 hard to use? I find it pretty easy because you just type in the tags you want and you get to sort through what you wanna read.
The questions have been bouncing around my head a lot after the Wattpad restrictions.
pairings: rafe cameron x fem!reader
content: fluff, established relationship, calico critters, rafe being secretly soft, lots of teasing, domestic sweetness
warnings: language
word count: 4.3k
masterlist
Rafe Cameron did not understand Calico Critters.
He understood boats, engines, expensive watches, which gas station stayed open latest, and exactly how much shit he could talk before Topper finally got pissed enough to shove him.
Tiny flocked animals dressed in little sweaters, however, made absolutely no sense to him.
Which was why, when you stopped so abruptly in the middle of Target that he nearly walked straight into your back, Rafe immediately assumed something was wrong. His hand landed against your waist to steady you while his eyes swept the aisle. “What?”
You turned toward him with your eyes wide. “Rafe. They have them.”
He followed your gaze toward an entire pastel wall of boxes filled with rabbits, cats, squirrels, bears, and an unreasonable number of babies being pushed around in miniature strollers. Rafe stared at the display for a few seconds before looking back at you. “What the fuck am I looking at?”
Your mouth fell open. “Don’t say that in front of them.”
“In front of who?”
“The babies.”
Rafe looked at the shelf again, then at you, like maybe if he gave you enough time you would realize how ridiculous you sounded. You didn’t. Instead, you grabbed one of the boxes and shoved it into his hands. “Look. They’re twins.”
“They’re rabbits.”
“They’re twin rabbits,” you corrected, tapping the plastic window. “And they come with a stroller. Look at the stroller.”
“I can see the stroller.”
“No, you’re looking at it. You’re not appreciating it.”
Rafe let out a long breath through his nose, but he turned the box over anyway. The back showed the two tiny rabbits posed in several different scenes, one tucked inside the stroller while the other stood beside it. He studied them for all of three seconds before his eyebrows pinched together. “They look exactly the same.”
“They’re twins, Rafe.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
You gasped. “Language.”
His mouth twitched. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”
“And you’re being rude to them.”
“To the rabbits?”
“To me.”
That got an actual smile out of him, quick and crooked before he looked away.
You had come to Target for shampoo. That was literally it. Somehow, fifteen minutes later, you were sitting cross-legged on the floor of the toy aisle with three boxes arranged in front of you while Rafe leaned against the cart, looking increasingly unimpressed.
“The seals are cute,” you murmured.
“Get the seals.”
“But I already have the seal family.”
“Then don’t get the seals.”
“But these are the babies.”
Rafe closed his eyes for a second.
You picked up another box. “But the latte cats are really cute too. Look at their ears.”
“Get those.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t.”
You frowned down at all three options, genuinely conflicted, until Rafe finally checked his phone. “Baby, you have been sitting on the fucking floor for fourteen minutes.”
“It has not been fourteen minutes.”
He held his phone toward you. You squinted at the time before looking offended anyway. “Okay, but I can’t decide.”
“Then buy all three.”
You looked up immediately. “No.”
Rafe glanced at the three boxes, then at the seventy-dollar sweatshirt he had thrown into the cart earlier without even checking the price. “You’re joking.”
“They’re like twenty dollars each.”
“And?”
“Rafe.”
“And?”
“I don’t need all of them.”
He nudged the toe of your sneaker with his. “Then pick one.”
You looked down again, still agonizing over it, and Rafe lasted maybe ten more seconds before bending down, scooping up all three boxes, and dropping them into the cart.
Your head snapped up. “Rafe.”
“What?”
“Put them back.”
“No.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“You’re not buying me sixty dollars worth of Calico Critters.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s excessive.”
“That’s not a reason.” He had already started pushing the cart away by then, leaving you sitting on the floor until you scrambled up and hurried after him.
“Put two back.”
“No.”
“Baby.”
“No.”
“You don’t even like them.”
“Exactly. Consider this charity.”
You shoved his shoulder. He barely moved. “You’re so annoying.”
“And yet,” he said, glancing down at you with that lazy little smirk that made it impossible to stay properly irritated with him.
“And yet what?”
“You’re still following me around.”
“You have the cart.”
“Sure.”
“My purse is in it.”
“Sure.”
“And I love you.”
That made him falter for barely half a second, but you noticed because you always noticed. Rafe had gotten better at hearing it, better at accepting affection without immediately acting like it made him uncomfortable, but sometimes there was still that tiny pause whenever you said something too casually tender. Like some part of him still expected love to come with conditions he had missed.
His fingers tightened around the cart handle. “Yeah, yeah.”
You grinned. “Love you too.”
“Didn’t say that.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking you’re expensive.”
“You put them in the cart.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Yours.”
By then he was smiling properly, so you rose onto your toes to kiss his cheek. Rafe ducked away just enough to be irritating. “Get off me.”
“You love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Rafe.”
He sighed like you had asked something deeply inconvenient, caught your chin between his fingers, and bent down to press a quick kiss against your mouth. “There. Happy?”
Your entire face brightened. “Very.”
“Good. Go find your shampoo before we leave here with a miniature fucking suburb.”
ᨳଓ .
You had technically been collecting Calico Critters since you were little, although you refused to call it collecting whenever Rafe was around because he made you sound insane.
There were a handful from childhood that had survived several moves, lost accessories, and your mother repeatedly asking if she could finally donate the cardboard box beneath your bed. Then, sometime during college, you started buying them again. One rabbit family became two. Two families became four. Then came the furniture, followed by the little bakery, and eventually a house you found secondhand online and made Rafe drive forty minutes with you to pick up because, according to you, it was vintage.
“It’s plastic,” he had said when the seller carried it outside.
“It’s discontinued.”
“That doesn’t make it vintage.”
“You don’t understand collecting.”
“Yeah, because I have hobbies.”
You had glared at him for nearly the entire drive home. He bought you dinner anyway.
That was generally how your relationship worked. Rafe complained, you ignored him, Rafe complained some more while doing exactly what you had asked him to do, and then several days later the thing you had mentioned wanting would mysteriously appear somewhere in your apartment while he pretended he had nothing to do with it.
So maybe you shouldn’t have been quite as surprised as you were when you came home from class one Thursday afternoon and found a small paper shopping bag sitting on your kitchen counter.
Rafe was stretched across your couch with his shoes kicked off, one arm thrown along the back cushions while SportsCenter played quietly on the television. He barely looked up when you dropped your keys into the bowl beside the door. “Hey.”
“Hi.” You walked behind the couch and leaned over to kiss him upside down, only for Rafe to catch the back of your neck and tilt his face until he could kiss you properly.
“Miss me?”
You smiled against his mouth. “You’ve been here for, like, twenty minutes.”
“Didn’t answer.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He kissed you once more before letting you go. You straightened, smoothing your hair back into place, and immediately looked toward the counter. “What’s that?”
Rafe’s eyes flicked toward the bag for half a second. “What’s what?”
“The bag.”
“Food.”
You stared at him. He stared back.
“You do that weird thing with your eyebrows when you lie.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“You’re making shit up.”
You were already walking toward the counter, your suspicion turning into excitement when you noticed the toy store logo printed on the side. “Did you get me something?”
“No.”
The smile spreading across your face widened. “Why are you lying again?”
“Baby.”
You opened the bag before he could stop you and pulled out a small box.
For one stunned second, you just stared.
Then you squealed so loudly that Rafe visibly flinched from the couch. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“You got the Persian cat twins!”
“Apparently.”
“Rafe!”
You practically threw yourself across the room. He had just enough time to toss his phone aside before you landed half on top of him, wrapping both arms around his neck. “I love them. Oh my God, I’ve been looking for these forever.”
“I know.”
You froze and slowly leaned back enough to look at him. “You know?”
Rafe’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
Your eyes narrowed before the realization hit. “You listened to me.”
“I listen to you.”
“You remembered which ones I wanted.”
“You talk about these little fuckers constantly.”
The warmth spreading through your chest had very little to do with the actual gift anymore. You held the box against yourself and watched the defensive look start creeping onto his face because he already knew you were about to make the moment sentimental.
“Don’t make it a thing.”
“That’s so cute.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re so cute.”
“Stop.”
“You went into the toy store by yourself?”
“Baby.”
Your eyes widened. “Did you ask an employee?”
His ears started turning pink.
“Oh my God, you did.”
“Okay.”
“You walked into a toy store and asked somebody where the Calico Critters were.”
“I knew where they were.”
“Then how did you find these?”
Rafe went silent.
You gasped. “Did you ask if they had them in the back?”
“I’m breaking up with you.”
You burst out laughing and tried to slide off his lap, but Rafe caught you around the waist and dragged you back against him. “You’re an asshole.”
“You love me.”
“Starting to reconsider.”
You kissed his cheek anyway, then the other one, then his forehead until Rafe shoved your face away with one hand. “Get off.”
“No.”
“You’re crushing me.”
“You can bench, like, two hundred pounds.”
“More than that.”
“Congratulations.”
You settled sideways across his lap and looked down at the box again, smiling at the tiny white kittens sitting beside each other in matching pastel outfits. “They’re so cute.”
“Yeah.”
Your head lifted immediately.
Rafe was looking at them too. Not with the disgust he usually performed whenever your collection came up, and not even with annoyance. He looked interested.
You narrowed your eyes. “You think they’re cute.”
“No.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You just looked at them fondly.”
“I don’t look at anything fondly.”
“That’s not true. You look at me fondly.”
“Rarely.”
“And apparently tiny cats.”
Rafe grabbed the remote. “Put your show on.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Put your show on.”
You did, but the moment stayed tucked in the back of your mind.
ᨳଓ .
The first undeniable sign that something was happening came a couple weeks later.
You were reorganizing your collection on the bedroom floor while Rafe lay sprawled across your bed behind you. Miniature chairs, tables, dishes, beds, and suspiciously tiny appliances covered most of the carpet because you had decided the bakery needed to move beside the main house. According to you, it made more sense geographically.
Rafe had informed you that using the word geographically in reference to Calico Critters should qualify you for psychiatric observation.
You ignored him.
You were halfway through moving a little table when he suddenly said, “No.”
Your hand froze. “What?”
Rafe pointed lazily from the bed. “That doesn’t go there.”
You looked at the table, then at him. “What?”
“The table. It was beside the window.”
There was a pause.
You slowly put it down. “Why do you know where it was?”
Rafe’s expression changed almost immediately. “I’ve seen it before.”
“Rafe.”
“What?”
“You know where my Calico Critter furniture goes.”
“I have eyes.”
You narrowed yours. He narrowed his right back.
Something was happening.
You weren’t sure exactly what, but something was absolutely happening.
Instead of pushing it, you turned around and started rearranging the bakery again. “Okay.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“You said it weird.”
“I said okay.”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you know something.”
You smiled to yourself. “I don’t know anything.”
“Baby.”
You continued moving things around, and for several seconds Rafe stayed quiet. Then he said, “The register goes on the other side.”
Your shoulders started shaking.
“Shut up.”
“That’s where you had it.”
You spun around. “You know where the register goes?”
“Because you keep changing shit.”
“You know the layout.”
“I’ve been forced to look at it for six months.”
“Oh my God.”
“Stop saying that.”
“You like them.”
“I do not like them.”
“You have opinions.”
“Because your new layout looks stupid.”
You crawled toward the bed with a grin, and Rafe immediately leaned backward like he could somehow escape the interrogation. “Don’t.”
“You’re a collector.”
“Don’t fucking call me that.”
“You’re one of us.”
“I’m literally not.”
“You’re one of us.”
He grabbed a pillow and held it between you like a shield. “You’re annoying.”
“You’re obsessed with them.”
“I think your bakery looks like shit.”
“You remembered the register.”
“Because the register belongs beside the display case.”
Silence.
Rafe realized what he had said at roughly the same time you did.
You stared at him.
He shut his eyes.
“Oh,” you whispered.
“Don’t.”
“You’ve thought about this.”
“I haven’t.”
“You have interior design opinions about my Calico Critter bakery.”
“I’m leaving.”
You collapsed against him laughing, and Rafe shoved weakly at your shoulder. “Get away from me.”
“You’re so embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m pissed off.”
“You’re blushing because you love Calico Critters.”
“I love you.”
That shut you up.
Rafe seemed to realize what had come out of his mouth a second later.
Not because he had never said it. He had, plenty of times by then. But Rafe’s I love yous tended to come quietly, mumbled against your hair before bed or pressed into your mouth in the dark or tossed over his shoulder when he was leaving like saying it casually somehow made it safer.
This one had slipped out without thought.
Immediate. Annoyed. I love you.
As though that explained the whole thing.
Your expression softened. Rafe looked away first and cleared his throat. “And because I love you, I’m forced to know where the stupid register goes.”
You climbed onto the bed beside him and tucked yourself into his side. “So you don’t love them.”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
“No.”
You picked up one of the tiny rabbits from beside your knee and held it in front of him. “Look at her.”
“Get that shit out of my face.”
“She loves you.”
“She doesn’t know me.”
“You’re hurting her feelings.”
“She is made of plastic.”
“Flocked plastic.”
“Whatever.”
You placed the rabbit directly on his chest. Rafe stared down at it while the little rabbit stared back. You waited, trying not to smile as his forehead creased.
Finally, after nearly ten seconds of silence, he asked, “Why is she naked?”
You laughed so hard you nearly fell off the bed.
ᨳଓ .
The second sign came when one went missing.
Not yours.
His.
Although you didn’t know that yet.
Rafe showed up at your apartment at nine in the morning on a Saturday already irritated, which was not unusual enough to immediately concern you. You opened the door wearing pajama shorts and one of his shirts, barely managing a sleepy smile before he leaned in to kiss your forehead.
“Morning.”
“Did I leave something here?”
You blinked. “Hello to you too.”
“Hi.” He kissed your temple this time, distracted. “Did I leave something here?”
“What?”
Rafe stepped past you and immediately started looking beside the couch. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what you’re looking for?”
“I know what I’m looking for.”
“Okay. What is it?”
“Nothing.”
You watched him check beneath a pillow before crouching to look beneath the coffee table. “Rafe, what did you lose?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re searching my apartment.”
“Dropped something.”
“What?”
“My—” He stopped.
You crossed your arms. “Your what?”
Rafe looked at you. You looked back.
“My lighter.”
“You don’t smoke in here.”
“Could’ve had it.”
“You used your blue lighter last night, and I watched you put it back in your pocket.”
Silence.
That was when you started paying attention.
You joined the search, mostly because your curiosity had become unbearable. “What size is it?”
“Don’t.”
“Big?”
“Baby.”
“Small?”
He said nothing.
You crouched beside the entertainment center and scanned the dark space underneath until something small and brown caught your eye. You reached beneath it, fingertips brushing something soft, and pulled out a tiny flocked otter wearing a yellow shirt.
You stared at it.
Behind you, the entire room went silent.
Slowly, you stood. Rafe had the expression of someone who had just been caught committing a felony.
You looked at the otter again, then back at him. “What.”
“Give me that.”
You immediately pulled your hand out of reach. “What is this?”
“Nothing.”
“This is a Calico Critter.”
“I can see that.”
“This isn’t mine.”
“Okay.”
“Rafe.”
He reached for it again, and you dodged him. “Is this yours?”
“No.”
“Then whose is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You came here at nine in the morning and have been crawling around my apartment specifically looking for it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
You stared at him. Rafe stared back before his gaze dropped toward the otter.
“Can you just give him back?”
Your whole expression changed. “Him?”
Rafe closed his eyes.
You gasped. “He has a gender?”
“Don’t start.”
“You know enough about him to have decided he’s a boy?”
“He’s obviously a guy.”
“Oh my God.”
“Stop saying that.”
You clutched the Critter to your chest before he could snatch it. “Where did he come from?”
For a second, Rafe said absolutely nothing. Then he muttered, “The boat.”
You blinked. “What boat?”
His eyes closed again.
A slow smile spread across your face. “Rafe.”
“No.”
“What boat?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“What boat?”
He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “The fucking boat.”
Your eyes widened. “The Calico Critter boat?”
“It’s just a boat.”
“You bought the Seaside Cruiser Houseboat?”
“How the fuck do you know the name?”
“Because I wanted it.”
“Well, now you know why I didn’t get it for you.”
You stopped. “What?”
Rafe crossed his arms. “You said you wanted it. I looked it up. It was cool.”
You stared at him. “You bought it for yourself?”
“It has a slide.”
Your jaw dropped.
Rafe’s face immediately went red. “A working slide.”
“Rafe.”
“And the top comes off.”
“Rafe Cameron.”
“And you can put the fucking furniture inside it.”
You were already vibrating with excitement. “You have a collection.”
“I have one boat.”
“And an otter.”
“The otter came with it.”
“That counts.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“You started collecting Calico Critters.”
“I bought a boat.”
“You started collecting Calico Critters.”
“I swear to God—”
You launched yourself at him before he could finish. Rafe caught you automatically, hands gripping beneath your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist and buried your face against his neck, laughing.
“This is the cutest thing you have ever done.”
“Get off me.”
“You have a Critter.”
“I have a boat.”
“You have an otter.”
“Baby.”
You lifted your head, still smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. “Does he have a name?”
Rafe said nothing.
Your smile vanished. “No way.”
“Don’t.”
“Rafe.”
“Don’t.”
“You named him?”
“I didn’t name him.”
“You definitely named him.”
“I didn’t.”
“What’s his name?”
Rafe looked away.
You waited.
Finally, with the quiet resignation of someone confessing to a crime, he muttered, “Finn.”
There was a beat of complete silence.
Then you made a sound so high-pitched that Rafe physically recoiled. “Stop.”
“You named him Finn!”
“Keep your voice down.”
“There’s nobody here.”
“You’re being annoying.”
“You named your Calico Critter.”
“He needed a name.”
You were laughing so hard by then that you could barely breathe. Rafe dumped you unceremoniously onto the couch, and you grabbed his wrist before he could walk away.
“Wait. Can I see the boat?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Rafe.”
“No.”
You widened your eyes.
He looked at you. “No.”
Your bottom lip pushed out.
“Stop.”
“Please?”
“You’re manipulating me.”
“Please, baby?”
Rafe stared at you for three long seconds before sighing. “Put shoes on.”
Your entire face lit up.
He pointed at you immediately. “And you get one comment.”
“One?”
“One. About the boat.”
“Can I comment about Finn separately?”
“No.”
“But—”
“I’m leaving.”
“Okay! Okay.”
You jumped up from the couch and hurried toward your bedroom. Rafe shook his head behind you, but you caught him glancing down at the otter still in your hand.
“Don’t lose him again.”
You bit down on your smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
ᨳଓ .
The boat lived in Rafe’s closet.
That was somehow the funniest part.
He had cleared an entire shelf for it, not some forgotten bottom corner where he could pretend he had thrown it. An actual shelf, positioned at eye level, with the white-and-blue houseboat displayed properly and several miniature pieces of furniture arranged inside.
Finn sat in the driver’s seat.
You stood completely still in front of the open closet while Rafe hovered behind you, becoming visibly more irritated by the second. “You’ve got ten seconds.”
“You decorated it.”
“Eight.”
“There’s a little bed.”
“Seven.”
“You put a lamp beside it.”
“Six.”
“Rafe.”
“Five.”
“You made him a bedroom.”
“Four.”
Your eyes narrowed as you leaned closer. “Did you buy that furniture separately?”
“Three.”
“Oh my God, you did.”
“Two.”
“You’re literally obsessed—”
Rafe shut the closet door.
You immediately grabbed his arm. “No!”
“You used your comment.”
“That was not one comment.”
“That was like twelve.”
“Let me see.”
“No.”
“Baby.”
“Absolutely not.”
You were laughing again, which only made him more defensive. Rafe tried to walk around you, but you wrapped both arms around his waist from behind. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m embarrassed for you.”
“You bought him a bedroom set.”
“It came with bunk beds.”
You froze.
Rafe froze too.
Very slowly, you leaned around his side. “Bunk beds?”
“No.”
“You said bunk beds.”
“Forget it.”
“Rafe.”
“Stop.”
“Who sleeps on the top bunk?”
“Nobody.”
Your eyes widened. “Rafe Cameron.”
He peeled your hands off him and started walking out of the room. You followed immediately, half laughing as suspicion dawned. “You bought another one.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Who lives on the top bunk?”
“Nobody.”
“What kind is he?”
“Not telling you.”
“So there is another one.”
“Fuck.”
You stopped in the hallway, clutching your stomach. Rafe kept walking while you called after him, “Is it another otter?”
Silence.
“A rabbit?”
Nothing.
“A cat?”
He kept going.
“A squirrel?”
Nothing.
“A dog?”
His mouth twitched.
You gasped. “Dog.”
“Shut up.”
“What kind?”
“Baby.”
“What breed?”
“They don’t have fucking breeds.”
“Yes they do.”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“You bought him.”
“Because Finn needed somebody on the boat.”
You stopped.
Rafe stopped too.
He realized what he had said.
Your hand slowly lifted to your chest. “Finn was lonely?”
“No.”
“You thought he was lonely.”
“No.”
“You bought him a friend because he was lonely.”
“I’m going home.”
“This is your house.”
“Then you’re going home.”
You followed him into the kitchen, unable to stop smiling. “What’s his name?”
“Doesn’t have one.”
“Can I name him?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Charlie.”
“No.”
“Henry.”
“No.”
“Waffles.”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“Walter.”
Rafe paused.
It was barely noticeable, but you saw it.
“You like Walter.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You paused.”
“Because it’s stupid.”
“Finn and Walter.”
“Stop.”
“Finn and Walter Cameron.”
Rafe whipped around. “They do not have my last name.”
You grinned. “So they do have first names.”
His eyes narrowed.
You blew him a kiss.
ᨳଓ .
After that, it became a problem.
For both of you.
You started sending him listings whenever you found something cute, usually with no expectation that he would actually care. Rafe pretended to ignore them. Then, at random hours of the day, you would get texts that proved he absolutely had not.
do you have the yellow rabbit
You stared at the message for several seconds before replying.
WHICH YELLOW RABBIT
A picture arrived less than a minute later, blurry and badly framed because Rafe apparently couldn’t be bothered to take a decent photo of something he claimed not to care about. You zoomed in and immediately typed back.
OH MY GOD THAT’S THE HOPSCOTCH RABBIT FATHER
do you have it
no :(
okay
why
no reason
Three days later, the rabbit was sitting on your pillow when you came home.
Sometimes you found them in his truck. Once, while looking for gum in the glove compartment, you discovered a tiny koala wearing a dress tucked beside his registration papers. You pulled her out and held her up between two fingers.
Rafe didn’t even glance away from the road. “Don’t.”
“Why is she in here?”
“Bought her earlier.”
“You just carry them around now?”
“She was in the bag.”
You studied the little koala. “She’s cute.”
“I know.”
Silence.
Rafe seemed to realize what he had said.
You slowly turned toward him. “You said—”
“I know what I said.”
“You think she’s cute.”
“Yeah.”
You pressed the koala against your chest. “Growth.”
“Shut up.”
The worst incident happened when Topper came over and discovered the boat.
Rafe nearly killed him.
Topper had wandered into the bedroom looking for his phone charger, stopping short when he noticed the closet door had been left partially open. “Is that yours?”
Rafe looked up from his phone and immediately knew exactly what Topper was looking at. “Don’t.”
Topper pushed the closet door wider, eyebrows climbing. “No fucking way. Is that a dollhouse?”
“It’s a boat.”
“Is that a tiny dog?”
You were curled up on Rafe’s bed by then, already biting your lip to keep from laughing. Topper turned toward you. “You did this.”
“I did not.”
“I bought her one,” Rafe said defensively.
Topper looked back at him. “And then?”
Rafe’s silence answered for him.
Topper’s entire face changed. “Oh my God.”
“Don’t.”
“You bought yourself one?”
Rafe stood.
Topper immediately started backing toward the doorway. “Okay, okay.”
“Get the fuck out.”
“Does it have a name?”
“Topper.”
“Does it?”
“Leave.”
You were already crying laughing by the time Topper disappeared down the hallway yelling, “RAFE HAS DOLLS,” at absolutely nobody.
Rafe slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it before turning toward you. “This is your fault.”
You wiped beneath your eyes. “How?”
“You introduced me to them.”
“I didn’t make you buy a boat.”
“You said you wanted the boat.”
“For me.”
“I wanted to see if it was worth it.”
“And?”
Rafe glanced toward the closet.
There was a pause.
Then, quietly, he muttered, “The slide’s pretty sick.”
You dissolved all over again.
ᨳଓ .
Christmas was when things got completely out of control.
You and Rafe had agreed not to go crazy with presents, which historically meant absolutely nothing because neither of you had the self-control necessary to follow through. You bought him a new wallet he had been staring at for months, a sweatshirt, sunglasses he refused to replace because he had already lost two pairs that year, and one smaller box you saved for last.
Rafe, meanwhile, had apparently heard the words don’t go crazy and interpreted them as buy everything anyway.
You stood in front of his tree staring at the pile of presents. “This isn’t what we agreed.”
“You said don’t go crazy.”
“This is crazy.”
“This is normal.”
“There are twelve things under your tree with my name on them.”
“One is from Wheezie.”
“Okay. Eleven.”
“Open them.”
“Rafe.”
“Baby.”
You narrowed your eyes at him.
He smiled. “Open your presents.”
So you did. Perfume, a sweater, shoes, a book you had mentioned wanting once months earlier, and a replacement for the necklace you lost and had been convinced was gone forever. Then you reached the largest box.
You looked at him, and Rafe suddenly became very interested in the wrapping paper scattered across the floor.
You peeled it open.
Then stopped breathing for a second.
Inside was the Red Roof Grand Mansion.
The enormous one.
The one you had sent him months ago before immediately retracting the message because it was absurdly expensive and you had nowhere to put it.
“Rafe.”
“What?”
“You did not.”
He shrugged.
You looked at the box, then back at him. “Where am I going to put this?”
“Your living room.”
“Where?”
“I’ll move the bookshelf.”
“You’re not moving my bookshelf.”
“Then we’ll put it here.”
You blinked. “At yours?”
“Yeah.”
“But my collection is at my apartment.”
“So?”
“So then they’d be separated.”
Rafe frowned like this was a genuine logistical problem he had not considered. “We can move yours here.”
You stared at him.
He looked back, expression completely casual.
“You want my Calico Critters at your house?”
“Could.”
Something in your chest softened so suddenly it almost hurt.
Because it wasn’t really about the toys.
It was Rafe making room.
Rafe, who had spent most of his life acting like needing anyone made him vulnerable, casually offering you space in his home as though it was the easiest thing in the world. A shelf. A corner. A ridiculous plastic mansion. For your tiny rabbits.
For you.
You crawled across the carpet and climbed into his lap. Rafe’s arms wrapped around you immediately, one hand settling against your back while you tucked your face into the side of his neck.
“Thank you.”
“You like it?”
“I love it.”
“Good.”
You stayed there for a moment, letting his hand move slowly over your back. “I love you.”
His hold tightened. “Love you too.”
Then you remembered your final present and pulled away abruptly. “Wait.”
Rafe sighed. “You already got me too much shit.”
“Shut up.”
You grabbed the small box from beneath the tree and handed it to him. “This one matters.”
Rafe took it suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
He tore the wrapping paper and lifted the lid.
Then went quiet.
Inside was a Calico Critter golden Labrador wearing a navy sweater.
You watched his face carefully. “I know Walter is technically your boat dog, but this one looks like you.”
Rafe looked at you. “I’m a dog?”
“Don’t ruin it.”
He looked back down at the little figure. “Why is he dressed like that?”
“I gave him a blue sweater because you always wear blue, and…” You hesitated.
Rafe lifted the Critter out. “And?”
You smiled. “I named him Rafey.”
His head snapped toward you. “No.”
You immediately started laughing. “Rafey Cameron.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Little Rafey.”
“No.”
“Baby Rafe.”
“Stop.”
“He can live in the mansion with mine.”
“He is not living in your fucking mansion.”
You gasped. “What?”
“He’s living on the boat.”
“With Finn and Walter?”
“Obviously.”
You smiled while Rafe turned the little Labrador over in his hand, his thumb brushing over the ridiculous blue sweater.
“You like him.”
“He’s okay.”
“You love him.”
“Don’t push it.”
You leaned toward him. “Can I tell Topper?”
“I’ll throw you into the ocean.”
“So no?”
“No.”
You kissed him anyway.
Rafe kissed you back.
Then, while you were distracted, he tucked the tiny Labrador carefully into the front pocket of his hoodie.
You noticed.
You didn’t say anything.
ᨳଓ .
By spring, your collections had merged.
Mostly because you were at Rafe’s place more often than your own apartment anyway, and after several months of moving little houses back and forth in bags, it made more sense to keep everything together. The mansion sat against the wall in his spare room. The boat was beside it. Then two smaller houses appeared, followed by the bakery, a nursery, a grocery store, two cars, and a tiny school that Rafe insisted had been on sale and therefore did not count as an impulse purchase.
He had even installed battery-powered lights.
You came over one evening and found him sitting cross-legged on the floor by himself.
He didn’t hear you enter.
You stopped in the doorway.
Rafe was holding Finn in one hand and Walter in the other, carefully positioning both of them inside the miniature car.
Your mouth slowly opened.
He looked up.
Frozen.
You froze too.
Neither of you said anything for several seconds before Rafe looked down at the figures, then back at you. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from smiling. “What does it look like?”
“Don’t.”
You stepped into the room. “Were you playing with them?”
“No.”
“You were.”
“I was moving them.”
“Where?”
Rafe hesitated.
You looked at the car, then at him. “Rafe.”
“The bakery.”
Your heart almost exploded. “You were driving Finn and Walter to the bakery?”
“I was moving them to the fucking bakery.”
“In the car.”
“That’s how they’d get there.”
You covered your face with both hands because you could already feel yourself losing it. Rafe’s expression sharpened. “Why would they walk?”
You dropped your hands. “Across what?”
“What?”
“You said why would they walk. Walk across what?”
Rafe gestured vaguely at the collection around him. “This.”
You stared at him. “You have lore.”
“I do not have lore.”
“You have city planning.”
“Shut up.”
You dropped onto the floor beside him and picked up one of your rabbits. “Okay. Where does she live?”
Rafe pointed without hesitation. “Upstairs.”
You stared at him. “You know where everybody lives?”
“No.”
“Rafe.”
“Most of them.”
“Where does the cat family live?”
“Blue house.”
“The squirrels?”
“Yellow.”
“The seals?”
“They have the cottage.”
“The baby twins?”
“Nursery.”
Your entire expression softened.
Rafe noticed immediately. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. What?”
“You’re cute.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re really cute.”
“I’m not.”
“You remember all of them.”
“Because they’re everywhere.”
“You built them a town.”
“You built them a town.”
“You helped.”
“You kept putting the bathroom beside the kitchen. Somebody had to intervene.”
You laughed and leaned sideways until your head rested against his shoulder. For a few seconds, neither of you said anything. Rafe looked down at you and nudged your knee with his.
“You happy?”
“Very.”
“Good.”
You picked up the little golden Labrador in the blue sweater. “And Rafey?”
“No.”
“Where does Rafey live?”
“Boat.”
“With Finn?”
“And Walter.”
“Do they pay rent?”
Rafe looked at you like you had asked the stupidest question imaginable. “No.”
“Freeloaders.”
“They own the boat.”
“Oh.”
“Finn does.”
You lifted your head. “Finn owns the boat?”
“Yeah.”
“And Walter?”
“Mechanic.”
You stared at him.
Rafe stared back.
Then his expression dropped. “Fuck.”
You fell sideways onto the carpet, laughing. “You have lore!”
“I don’t.”
“Walter is a mechanic.”
“He fixes the boat.”
“You’ve thought about this.”
“Because the boat needs somebody who can fix it.”
“The boat is plastic.”
Rafe grabbed you around the waist and dragged you toward him, rolling you beneath him while you continued laughing. “You’re fucking annoying.”
“You’re playing dolls.”
“They’re not dolls.”
Your eyes widened.
Rafe realized immediately.
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t.”
“You just defended them.”
“Shut up.”
“You called them by their correct terminology.”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
His expression softened just enough. “Unfortunately.”
You smiled and slid your fingers into his hair, letting the moment settle before your gaze wandered toward the little town spread across the carpet. “You know what we need?”
“No.”
“A restaurant.”
“We have the bakery.”
“They can’t eat pastries for every meal.”
“They’re fake.”
“That sounds like something somebody without proper urban planning would say.”
Rafe stared down at you for several seconds before sighing. “What kind of restaurant?”
Your entire face lit up.
He immediately groaned. “Fuck.”
“A diner. With booths and tiny pancakes and little coffee cups—”
“You already have coffee cups.”
“Not diner coffee cups.”
Rafe rolled his eyes, but you knew him. You knew the slight tilt of his mouth and the look in his eyes when he had already decided he was going to do something but wanted to complain about it first.
So you were not remotely surprised when, three days later, you walked into the spare room and found a Calico Critters diner sitting beside the bakery.
You stood in the doorway for several seconds before turning toward the living room. Rafe was stretched across the couch, looking up when you appeared. “What?”
You pointed toward the spare room.
He shrugged. “They needed somewhere to eat.”
Your mouth fell open.
Rafe managed to hold a straight face for maybe two seconds before he started smiling.
You launched yourself at him.
“Don’t—”
Too late.
You landed directly in his lap.
He caught you anyway.
Always did.
“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, arms settling around your waist as you pressed rapid kisses along his jaw.
“You bought tiny pancakes.”
“They came with it.”
“You bought tiny pancakes.”
“Stop.”
“I love you.”
Rafe sighed, but his arms tightened around you. “Love you too.”
You kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “And I love Finn.”
“Obviously.”
“And Walter.”
“Sure.”
“And Rafey.”
“Change his name.”
“Never.”
Rafe groaned and dropped his head against the back of the couch while you grinned into his neck.
Across the room, beneath the window, sat an entire miniature town filled with little houses, tiny furniture, cars, rabbits, cats, seals, dogs, and one boat that Rafe Cameron had once insisted was the only thing he owned. The bakery register was exactly where he liked it. Finn’s boat was parked beside the house. Walter still slept on the top bunk because apparently mechanics needed somewhere to rest after long days repairing plastic boats. Little Rafey Cameron sat behind the wheel of a miniature car because, according to Rafe, somebody had to go pick up dinner.
You still insisted Rafe had become a collector because of you.
Rafe insisted he had not.
He just happened to own twenty-seven Calico Critters, several buildings, multiple vehicles, a diner, one boat, and an embarrassingly detailed note in his phone listing every family you already owned so he wouldn’t accidentally buy duplicates.
But that was different.
Because Rafe Cameron did not collect Calico Critters.
He just loved a girl who did.
And somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, he had started loving all her tiny little things too.
Cigarettes always bring people together, especially at night.
Disclaimer: I do not endorse smoking in real life.
This Includes: smoking, a reference to marijuana, reader knows Jason is Red Hood, Jason calls reader Dove
It’s 1:47 am according to your watch, but you couldn’t be bothered.
Sleep refused to find you tonight. Enaressing memories, worries, and random thoughts swirled around your mind like a tornado. A rampage you couldn’t seem to shake off.
So instead of lying in your perfectly comfortable bed, in your perfectly comfortable bedroom, you decided to step out onto the fire escape in the icy Autumn evening of late November for a smoke.
The thick fabric of your hoodie did little to protect you from the cold breeze, but that was what the cigarette was for. To warm your chest and ease your mind.
You’d prefer a joint, but you smoked the last of your weed away a month ago with Jason.
A cigarette would have to do.
With a hard flick of your thumb, your red bic sparked and caught. Protected by your free hand, you brought the dancing flame to the cig caught between your wind-chapped lips.
The end burned red into a bright cherry as you took the first inhale.
As you set the lighter back into your pocket the landing above you thudded and creaked under the weight of someone jumping. Above you was a figure now climbing down to you.
Panic held you in a frozen grip. Even if you were to make a run for it, there was no way you’d make it back into your apartment in time.
The person dropped in front of you and the fear washed away like a name written on a shore.
“Didn’t realize Red Hood was back on his lurking.” You teased.
“Never stopped, dove.” Even through the modulator, you could still hear the hint of amusement in his voice.
You hummed and took a long drag of your cigarette. “Here you bother me or smoke?”
“Smoke,” he answered and pulled off his muzzle and attached it to his belt. “Was on watch a couple roofs away and saw your lighter.”
Anxiety curled around your chest like a snake would its prey. “Sure it’s safe to take that off? What if someone see you?”
“I’m a dead man, dove. No one’ll know who I am. And I’ve still got the domino.” He pointed at the black mask obscuring his eyes and eyebrows.
“I guess.” You mumbled under your breath.
“Promise there’s nothin’ to worry about.” He gave you a soft smile as he took the cig from you.
“If you say so.” You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest, trying to chase away the cold and nerves.
You watched Jason’s lips wrap around the cig and how his eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled. He pulled the cig from between his lips and exhaled smoke softly through them. The visual made your cheeks warm. “What’s got you up so late?”
The question broke you from a fog. You sighed and stole the cylinder back. “Brain won’t shut up.”
He nodded and watched as you took a drag. “C’mere.” He ordered gently and crooked two fingers toward himself.
You took a step and a half towards him and exhaled, directing the smoke down between you as heat took over your face.
Jason took the cig, took a drag, and cupped your chin. “Can I?” He asked, breathlessly.
You nodded and leaned into him as he took a step to close the gap between you.
Your chapped lips met his soft ones in a peck. Then a kiss. Then his tongue lapped at your bottom lip until you were frenching. Then he leaned his head back barely an inch and breathed smoke past the barrier of your lips.
You took it all in and pulled back a half-step to look at Jason.
His eyes were half-lidded and his mouth still parted. His cheeks were flushed beneath the edge of his domino mask and they only seemed to get pinker as he watched you breathe out the smoke.
You smiled softly at his dazed look. “Are you gonna be okay to go back to fighting crime?”
He shook his head like a dog after a bath and scrubbed a gloved hand over his masked face. “Yeah. Totally. Why wouldn’t I?”
A chuckle escaped your lips at his nerves and you closed the gap again. “I don’t know. I think if I gave you another kiss you’d be out of commission until sunrise.”
Jason stumbled at the closeness and his hands landed on your waist as he steadied himself. “Then I guess no more kisses for me.”
You chuckled again and set your hands on his armored pecs. “How unfortunate for me.”
Jason playfully shrugged and squeezed your waist before pressing a firm kiss to the center of your forehead. “That’ll have to do.”
You sighed in faux-upset. “I guess so.”
A smile tugged at the scarred corner of his lip. Then a faint beeping rang from his left ear. Jason huffed and rolled his shoulders back. “I gotta go.”
Your lips pursed in a tight line. “Okay.” You nodded and let your hands fall to your hoodie pocket.
He gave you a sympathetic smile. “I’ll call you later. Get some sleep, alright?”
You nodded again.
He put his muzzle back on and grabbed a grapple-gun from his belt. “Thanks for sharing.” His modulated voice joked.
You chuffed in amusement and rolled your eyes. “Goodbye, Red.”
“Goodnight, dove.” He answered fondly before shooting the gun and swinging off into the night.
You took a deep breath and your eyes fell to the still burning stub of what was left of the cig. Jason must’ve dropped it during the kiss.
After a short sigh you picked it up and put it out on your window sill before climbing back into the warmth of your apartment.
codependent league brothers Damian and Jason who are so used to being side-by-side and able to communicate 24/7 that living in different parts of Gotham after Damian is introduced to Bruce and Jason becomes the Red Hood is basically torture for them. they’re not within earshot of each other for the first time in over five years and. they don’t take to it well. they end up getting tiny bluetooth ear pieces to keep in one ear so that they can be in a call with each other all day every day without anybody getting suspicious, and it works really well. it’s certainly not an issue for Jason, who lives alone and isn’t really close enough to anybody else for them to notice if he seems to talk to himself on the regular. the issue, of course, is that Damian lives in the manor with the rest of the family. and it is a little hard for them not to notice their youngest talking to air all throughout the day. especially because Damian doesn’t even really hide it, he just keeps talking to nothing in front of them all and then telling them to mind their business when they ask what the fuck he’s talking about.
~at breakfast~
*the bats chilling at the dining table, eating food*
Bruce, to Tim: so i got that meeting moved to Thursday, and we can talk to the board this afternoon about those plans you discussed with me last night.
Tim: oh, cool. so i’ll come to your office at like, three i guess?
Bruce: sounds good to me.
Jason, in Damian’s ear as he grocery shops in Crime Alley: neat, there’s a three for two offer on that ice cream brand i like. i’ve been craving ice cream all weekend.
Damian, not looking up from his cereal: you should try the new flavour they came out with, it has caramel in it.
Jason: oooh, good shout,
the rest of the table:
Bruce: what was that, chum?
Damian, glancing up at them: i wasn’t talking to you.
Jason: so rude, interjecting themselves into our conversations like that.
Damian: i know, right?
Tim, baffled: …what the fuck is happening?
Bruce decides that Damian must just have an imaginary friend or something, so he leaves it be. honestly, anything even remotely childlike Damian is willing to do in public is a massive step forward in Bruce’s eyes, so he’s pretty happy to pretend like nothing’s changed. he even takes part in the conversation sometimes, when he can pick up context simply from what Damian says and has something potentially helpful to add. confused but not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, Damian occasionally ends up acting as a go-between while Bruce unknowingly has conversations with his dead son, which is weirdly healing for Jason even though Bruce has no idea what he’s really doing.
~Damian quietly drawing in the corner of Bruce’s office while Bruce works~
Jason, in Damian’s ear, as he tries to fix a leak in his apartment: i don’t even understand where the water’s coming from- *grunt* i swear i turned off the valve!
Damian, mildly: this is the third time your sink has broken, at this point just pay for a professional.
Bruce: ?
Jason: i’m not paying some shmuck to do something i can do myself perfectly well.
Damian: except you can’t do it perfectly well, you’ve been trying to do it perfectly well for the past forty-five minutes and you haven’t even located where the leak is.
Jason: shut up, i’m getting there.
Bruce:
Bruce, wants to bond with Damian and encourage his make-believe: *tentatively* try feeling along the p-trap with a paper towel…?
Damian: *blinks over at him*
Jason, can hear Bruce through Damian’s earpiece: it’s not the p-trap, i checked that.
Damian: …it isn’t the p-trap.
Bruce: then maybe put the plug in and fill the basin with water; it could be an issue with the drain strainer.
Damian:
Jason: ….hold on.
*a minute later*
Jason: ohhhh i got you, motherfucker! i got it!
Damian: it was the drain strainer?
Jason: it’s the drain strainer! tell B thanks.
Damian: thank you, Father.
Bruce, oddly proud of himself: no problem! you know if you’re interested in fixing things, Damian, i could always show you how to-
Damian: i have no interest in mechanical endeavours whatsoever.
Bruce:
Bruce: alright then.
Dick is a little concerned that Damian’s hallucinating or hearing voices at first, but he eventually subscribes to Bruce’s imaginary friend theory and responds pretty much in the same way. the only other theory that keeps cropping up is Tim’s theory, which develops after Damian doesn’t realise Tim’s in the same room as him and mid-debate about the best type of poison firmly refers to Jason by his full government name. this leads Tim to decide that Damian can commune with the dead, and is being haunted/followed around by the friendly ghost of the second Robin. Tim then becomes worried that he’s upset Jason’s ghost when he became Robin, and starts flitting about Damian nervously while trying to find out if there’s a way to make peace with Jason’s restless spirit.
Damian goes with it because he thinks it’s funny.
Tim: is it like- is it an unfinished business thing? is he trapped to this mortal realm with no way to pass on? do we need to help him???
Damian, baffled:
Jason, having the time of his life: tell him my ghost wants twenty dollars.
Damian: *snorts*
Tim, looking around frantically: what’d he say?!?!?!
Damian: nothing.
Jason: no, shut up, tell him i want twenty dollars.
Damian: no, piss off.
Tim: tell me!
Damian: ….he says he wants twenty dollars.
Tim: …why would a ghost want twenty dollars?
Jason: to buy stuff from the ghost vending machine. obviously.
Damian: ok. you’re an idiot.
Tim: what’s he saying?
*noise of water from the earpiece*
Damian: …are you taking a fucking shower right now?
Jason: what, ghosts cant have showers? listen- you gotta tell him that to get physical items into the spirit realm you have to burn them as sacrifice. we’re gonna get him to set all his shit on fire.
Damian: why would you want everything to be set on fire?
Jason: dunno. bored.
Tim: he wants us to set stuff on fire? *slightly worried* …is he a vengeful ghost?
Damian:
Damian: why can’t you just be like Father and presume i’m simply a whimsical child?
Tim: …?
the family literally only finds out that Jason and Damian have been in a constant never-ending phone call when Jason finally ends up back with the family and joins them on a group patrol, and three minutes into being in the same vicinity Damian complains about the feedback-echo and digs the earpiece out. family patrol night rapidly devolves into a Gotham-wide screaming match as everybody indignantly tries to come to terms with the fact that Damian’s been fucking perma-skyping Jason for the past year and a half without telling them, while Jason delights in telling them all the stupid shit he’s heard through Damian’s earpiece while they haven’t known he’s listening.
I’m so sick of infold. Idk what they think is gonna happen after dropping Raf’s myth. Tbh, I don’t know if them bring Valko back would entice me enough to redownload the game because their behavior is just ridiculous at this point.
Maybe if they fix all the other issues fans have been pointing out over the years I’d come back for Sylus. But only then. And so far, Infold has been ignoring pretty much everything.
zayne loves you and apparently your calico critters, too?
he vowed to always be accepting and supportive of your interest, whatever that may be. so, that included your love for small trinkets of adorable families of animals.
if you came across the calico critter blind bags or tiny keychains at check out while shopping, he had no problem with you slipping one into the basket. or two. three, maybe? he wasn’t watching you, but he could see your hand in the corner of his eye taking them off the shelf and trying to be sneaky. “add one more. in case you get a repeat, of course. i understand that, at times, it discourages you,” he’d say.
zayne was attentive. letting you browse the calico critter section of the store for twenty minutes if you needed it. “baby mermaid castle or playtime castle nursery?” you muttered to yourself. the two items were so adorable. either one would be a perfect addition to your collection and the space in your room you had dedicated to your trinkets.
“get them both,” zayne interrupted your thoughts. he’d been standing there watching you with his hands relaxed to his sides. there wasn’t a point in trying to decide. he’d get you anything within a heartbeat.
zayne had noticed there was a particular item that you always brushed your fingers over but never acknowledged. the touch that lingered told him it had drawn you in but you’re stubborn, you seemed to never have expressed your want for it. so, he’d come home early one night, a big box wrapped in a simple and plain white wrapping paper in his arms. “what is that?” you asked.
“why don’t you open it? it is for you after all.” he answered calmly, placing the box down onto the table and watching you waste no time tearing open the wrapping paper to reveal his gift to you. “what!” you screeched. “red roof country home? no way! zayne! you shouldn’t have!” you throw yourself into his arms in which he uses to envelop you immediately. his hand cradles the back of your head, stroking you gently as he places a kiss to your forehead.
zayne grins, murmuring against your skin, “your little animals have been nomads for far too long. i thought you might like to give them a proper home.”
I’m so sick of infold. Idk what they think is gonna happen after dropping Raf’s myth. Tbh, I don’t know if them bring Valko back would entice me enough to redownload the game because their behavior is just ridiculous at this point.
TLDR ꒱ CK insists on bagging and boarding your comics after seeing you rawdog your floppies
WC ꒱ 0.5k
It all started with a: “What is wrong with you?”
You startled at the sudden expression. “What?”
You turned to look at CK, as he bent over a pile of comic issues you had bought over the last couple weeks that had possibly gotten a bit too high.
“Babe, these are going to bend and warp. They’ll be ruined.”
Your beloved, yet slightly annoying boyfriend, picked the issue laying on top of the pile up gently with two hands, cradling it like it was a precious relic.
“Oh god. This one's practically curved in half.” CK squealed.
“It’s fine. I’m not reselling them anyway.” You patted his hair.
“It is absolutely not fine. Where are your bags and boards?”
“Don’t have any?”
And that is how you got to one of the largest comic stores in your city (“For the quality, babe!”), which was surprisingly far considering the interconnected, close-knit nature of Metropolis. The two of you had taken a very crowded train ride deeper into downtown and walked a few blocks to the place. The air conditioning hit like a wall, welcome in contrast to the staggering heat outside. It held a good selection, but was still clean and well lit, and even lacked the usual overwhelming stench of middle aged men who had yet to learn what showers and deodorant were.
You took a minute to look through the shelves of graphic novels they had for sale as CK scurried off to compare board sizes. As soon as you turned to flip through the vast selection of single issues, you were interrupted.
“Absolutely not. You have enough to organize as it is.” your boyfriend scolds, lifting a bag up as evidence. “I got our stuff. Let’s get outta here.”
“Fine, fine.” You lift your hands up in abandon.
The ride back was just as crowded, train packed tightly, giving you the opportunity to lean against CK’s chest. “You happy now?”
“Of course. I can’t wait to go through all your comics.” He pulls you further into him.
You make your way back into your apartment, oppressive heat following you inside and into your dark living room. Curtains pulled tightly shut fluttered by your open window as a fan blew across the room, and you opted to turn on a lamp instead of allowing the domineering sun to grace your home.
CK practically leaps over your couch to get to the unorganized issues strewn across your coffee table and desk by your window, and you swear you saw him rub his hands together in excitement. Ripping open packages of comic bags and boards, and asking for tape, he begins his work. So you indulge him. You spend the afternoon next to each other, going through piles and discussing various storylines as he meticulously goes through all your mess and places the protected comics into organized piles. Only once you reach the end of the last pile does he snap out of his obsessive daze.
“Babe. We have to go back. We forgot to get boxes.”
a/n: okay this is cheesy and quick and actually pretty bad. but i needed a break from writing my jason fic and this kinda spewed out. its also extremely self indulgent. yes i let my floppies lay around without protection.
theartofmadeline
gummygunk
jimmyeatworldofficial
blakekathryn
