34 - I Miss You by Candy Hearts; "I miss you and you haven't even left yet..."
i opted to write a fanfic instead of a blurb like your post originally said because it's been a bit since i wrote something for btr and wanted to stretch my muscles. a d i give up on trying to write anything short ever. i just have to accept i'm a wordy bitch and can't manage it 🙃. enjoy!
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“You know when I asked you over, it was so we could hang out. Not for you to pack for me.”
Leaning back on her heels, Mickey sent a sheepish smile James' way. "You're kinda bad at it though, so..."
"I know how to pack."
She snorted while folding a shirt; she didn't need to look at his face to know he was pouting. "Yeah, for the beach. Or a hockey game. Or a photo shoot."
"You say that like they're not important."
"James, you pack for a party." Once they went to a wrap party for Dak and Camille's newest Lifespan movie and James hadn't shown his face for an hour and a half upon realizing Jet had showed up and they had matching shoelaces. Mickey still shook her head about that one.
He threw his arms in the air. "I need options! I can't show up in just anything you know. And what if someone's wearing the same sneakers at me?"
"God forbid someone shops from the same store."
He continued on as if he didn't hear her, "Then I'd have to change and it'd mess with the rest of my outfit and then I'd have to change that. And then there's the accessories. I mean, you don't expect me to pair a watch that doesn't match my belt or my shoes do you?"
Frankly, she didn't expect him to pair a white sock with an off-white sock at this point; it was all ridiculously overblown to her. But it mattered to James and, deep down, she admired his passion and how self-assured he was. He didn't care if anyone else understood, as long as it made sense to him and fit what he wanted out of his life without apology.
But that didn't mean she didn't find his idiosyncrasies ridiculous sometimes.
Like now.
“I’m trying to help you save space. I know how much you end up bringing back, souvenirs aside.” Glancing back down, she surveyed the rows of shirts and pants she’d unfolded, refolded, and stacked in a more efficient manner. Not that he had initially packed wrong but…well, her way was better. "Your fans have always been good to you."
Besides, she liked packing. Call her a nerd, but the satisfaction she got from being able to fit everything in its place was unmatched. Going down a list and leaving check marks in her wake gave her a little thrill, like completing a puzzle. She even found it a little fun.
And it was the perfect distraction.
While she rearranged the piles and she didn't have to think about the nagging twist in her stomach, didn't have to put a name to the heaviness in her heart that made her sleep so restless the last few days. With her mind focused on the task—well, mostly focused on it; James could be a hell of a distraction, in more ways than one—her mind couldn't wander. And in the end this would save him time from having to send Kelly out to get a toothbrush or extra underwear or because he forgot them. Again.
She was only looking out for him, really.
"I wish you guys were coming with us," he said.
She did too; getting the chance to see the world didn't happen to people like her every day. And being able to see it with her friends and her boyfriend while on a run of playing sold-out shows would've been the icing on the cake.
Walking the streets in a foreign city, immersing herself in the culture she'd only read about in books would be a dream come true. And trying all their food? She could make her stomach growl just from thinking about the old recipes that were probably handed down for generations.
And the idea of being there with James, experiencing it all, hand-in-hand was enticing as much as it made her pull a face and roll her eyes at herself for thinking it in the first place.
Because it was sappy.
And cliche.
And...real.
It was one thing to go on dates and spend time together at the Palm Woods or in LA, and a completely new beast out in the rest of the world.
In their musical bubble, hidden behind four walls, decked out in the shadows behind him on stage, she was safe. Out in the world, she'd be perceived and people would have opinions and she already had enough of those on her own without that white noise filtering in.
She already had a hard time not tearing herself down, especially in regards to wondering what James saw in her; she didn't need the world agreeing with her.
"I think Uncle Gustavo would lose whatever hair he has left if we were all let loose in the world," she said instead, avoiding his gaze. Because she knew that look on his face, eyes shining in earnest at the sincerity wrapped in his statement; it always cut through her and she knew it'd only make the knot in her tighten. "Besides," she said after clearing her throat, ridding herself of the lump starting to form, "albums don't record themselves. We couldn't pass this opportunity up."
"Still..."
How he managed to load so much gravity into one word still astounded her. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "You won't even notice; you'll be too busy having the time of your life—no pun intended."
He moved to say something but she beat him to it, hefting the bag off the floor and dropping it onto his lap where he'd been sitting on his bed for the last hour. "Here, don't forget to add your lucky things."
James' eyes dropped from her face to the bag in his lap and back up at her, before his cheeks rounded at the strength of his smile.
She never stood a chance.
In a flash he lunged off the bed and grabbed her, making her let out a shriek of equal surprise and when he lifted her off the ground with little effort. Once he pulled her onto his lap, his fingers tickled up and down her sides, turning her wiggling to escape into squirms powered by unrestrained giggling.
"Wait - no! I'm not gonna fit!" she managed to gasp between her laughter as James grabbed her by the ankles and tried to stuff her feet into the bag.
"Well, you'll have to find a way 'cause I'm taking you with me."
"James!"
"What? You told me not to forget my lucky things."
"I meant your v-neck or your comb."
"A lot of good things in my life happened since the day I met you, Mickey. You're worth more luck than than them combined."
Her sides hurt. Heat encircled her neck and pooled in her cheeks. Her heaving chest slowed as the mirth eased to simmering contentment. Beneath it all, her body thrummed as she digested his words soaked in candor.
It came to a stuttering halt at the rapid knocking on the door.
The interruption of the moment must've got to James as well because he let out a long sigh before acknowledging, "That's the pizza."
"I thought you don't eat dairy before shows." The tour officially started in two days but James took his vocal health seriously. A month before he increased his warm ups and warm downs, two weeks before he started popping vitamin c supplements like candy, and the week before he completely cut out dairy. His dedication was unmatched.
"I don't," he said, lifting her legs to hop off the bed. "Besides, it's not real cheese anyway."
"How appetizing."
She scooted up to the headboard and flopped against his pillows. A plume enveloped her—the crisp, green notes of his body wash, the rich, exotic ylang-ylang of his cologne (she refused to call it man spray), the fresh scent of his shampoo, and the amber-y warmth of him.
The knot inside her yanked loose and the flood of longing rushed through her.
It hit her all at once: she missed him.
And she almost laughed aloud at the crazy notion. She missed him and he hadn't even left yet. How was that possible? Yet there she was, willing to further match the cliches she'd read about or seen in movies by grabbing a hoodie balled in the corner and taking it with her. At least then she'd be able to have a part of him while he was thousands of miles away.
She wrinkled her nose at the thought, to smooth it out a second later. What would be wrong with that? He was her boyfriend after all. And James had no problem laying it all out there....
Grasping the hoodie, she pulled it to her face, taking a deep breath of the heavy fabric, almost seeing him lounging around in it in a cold studio, lying in bed while waiting for his body to ease into sleep, bundling up after a hockey game, memorizing the scent of him embedded on the threads of fabric. Another breath and the weight on her heart eased.
He came back into the room balancing the box on his palm as she spread the hoodie out across her lap, smoothing out a sleeve, messing with the cuffed ribbed hem at the end, thinking of the way his hand held hers, solid and steady.
The world could borrow him for a few months; with his fingerprints inked into her skin, he was rooted to her in the way that counted.
"What?"
Mickey blinked. "What?" she echoed.
"You have a funny look on your face." Settling with his back to the wall, James' fingers curled in a quick motion, popping the seal of a can of sparkling water. He took a swig, let out a quick burp, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and handed ber a slice.
"Do I?" At his nod she set the hoodie aside, trying to piece together the right sentence to explain. But she stopped, exhaled, and offered up a smile. She didn't need to explain anything at all, especially not to herself. Something told her he'd understand. "It's nothing. You're...just having a really good hair day today, that's all."
At that he grinned, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. "I was hoping you'd notice."
i've had the basis of this dialogue exchange in my head for ages but couldn't figure out what fic to put it in and where or how until i decided to just take it out and make it its own scene instead of trying to shoe-horn it in somewhere else. i was going to wait and post this on james' canon birthday in two days but i got impatient. i need the fluff. this is set in season 2. @raging-violets @partiallypearl @witchofinterest @myloveforhergoeson
“You’re still here?” James asked, leaning against the door frame to Kelly’s office. Feet crossed at angles, hands shoved in pockets, arm pressed against the wood from forearm, backpack hanging off the crook of his bent elbow. The perfect pose of nonchalance—practiced nonchalance because he had to always have everything regarding his appearance on point.
Mickey glanced at him from around Kelly’s laptop on her standing desk. It was the slight crease to her brow that made him realize his mistake.
It was Wednesday.
He knew that.
He knew she knew he knew that.
She always stayed behind to help Kelly with her administrative work on Wednesdays. It usually amounted to taking messages or ignoring calls Kelly didn’t want to deal with or translating meeting notes or updating contact information for potential talent recruitment.
“You’re still here,” she commented, still looking at him but clicking at something on the screen. “Didn’t you finish laying down tracks a few hours ago?”
He did, indeed. Getting songs done in one take wasn’t hard for him but he wanted to make sure they had more than one perfect track to use. It was always good to have options, wasn’t it? “Gustavo wanted me to get some new headshots done.”
The crease smoothed out and was replaced with the tiniest of smiles pulling back the corner of her mouth. Anyone else might not have noticed but he for sure did. He’d spend enough time looking at her. He had all her micro expressions memorized.
“He wasn’t a fan of Hot Janitor or Hot Librarian?”
“No!” James rolled his eyes and stood straight. Clearly Gustavo didn’t know what he was talking about. “I, for one, think he’s just jealous.”
“Well, he has a few things to choose from on that front.”
He didn’t have a chance to dig more into that comment because her attention too quickly moved back to the screen. All mirth left her face and a deep concentration took over as she hid behind the screen once more. He twisted his mouth to the side. That wasn’t how he planned this encounter to go. He had to keep it going.
“What’re you doing?” He stepped further into the room, his steps halting and tentative. It wasn’t that he thought Kelly would stoop so low to have shock pads on the floors of her office but, well, Gustavo had some interesting ways to corral them that he wouldn’t entirely put past the staff of Rocque Records to be a little unique themselves.
“Uncle Gustavo wants his audition tapes organized.” She sighed and rubbed an eye. “Thing is it’s already sorted and named by date, but he wants folders in folders and some arbitrary system that makes sense to no one else but him.” She lifted a piece of paper that had what looked to be chicken scratch scribbled all over it.
James nodded. “Sounds like Gustavo alright.”
She hummed and slapped the paper back down on the desk. A few loose Starburst wrappers—pinks and reds—flew off the desk. “Thankfully it’s only for the last year so it’s not too much but…”
Last year? James’ ears perked up. That meant his audition had to be in there somewhere. Had she seen it? Studying her face gave him no answers. She had a way of keeping everything locked up tight. And with her concentration thrown on top of it, chipping away would have to be delicate.
“Didyouwatchmine?”
Being delicate wasn’t his strong suit.
Something crossed her face, a sort of careful contemplation mixed with that made every second pass like an eternity. “Yes,” she finally answered. The simple word nearly knocked him over. Or maybe it was the gust of relief wooshing out of him that made him take a step back. Made him take stock of the reality of the conversation they were having. She’d seen his audition. She had thoughts about his audition. He needed to know what they were.
"And?" The question burst out of him, his body nearly vibrating with anticipation.
"And I thought you were good.” She shrugged, shuffled papers again, and put them in the small metal basket marked OUT with a small white label. Oh. Good. Not great or fantastic or anything. Just good. But “good” was better than nothing wasn’t it? He could take good. “And then you stage-dived onto security.” She pointed at the screen as if to remind him.
“Yeah, well, Kendall needed my help." James shrugged. “He had my back. I needed to have his.”
That look came back to her face. Her mouth twisted to the side and, for second, he didn’t think she’d say anything but, after a small shake of her head, she continued, ”…For the record, I thought Uncle Gustavo was crazy not to initially pick you.”
“Really?” He for sure thought so, especially following up with his crazy idea that James had no talent. But to hear someone else say it to him, for her to say it to him, he had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
A light flush came to her cheeks and she cleared her throat. “…But it all worked out in the end. For the best, I think. You belong here.” She flashed a small smile and he may as well have burst into a thousand pieces. He wasn’t hard to please: some pie, a compliment or two, maybe tell him they were proud of him, someone acknowledging his talents and his efforts, and he was good to go. But this…
She’d said that to him before; in fact he remembered it was the very first thing she’d ever said to him, and it meant as much now as it did then, nearly a year ago. She had to have said that on purpose, right?
“Hey, how’s it goin’?” James nearly groaned when Kelly came into her office. She had to notice she was ruining the moment, right? Because there definitely was a moment and he wasn’t making it up. He wouldn’t come crashing back down to reality like that if there hadn’t been one. The little wings on his feet must’ve melted.
“Almost done,” Mickey replied though the weariness in her words clued James in she didn’t actually believe it. But it was probably what Kelly wanted to hear. “Are you ready to go?”
Kelly grimaced. “That’s the thing. We had another meeting called; it’s going to take some time. You should probably grab a bus and head home.” Mickey groaned. “I’m sorry but those pesky things called child labor laws have my hands tied.”
“You’re not even paying me.”
Kelly gestured with her ever-present clipboard. “And that makes it worse.” Her eyes slid over to James. “You should be going too.” Walking past him, Kelly moved to her desk, pausing only to give a brief glance at the scattered candy wrappers on the floor before reaching for a drawer. It slid open with a few squeaks and she removed her purse, then her wallet, then some money. “Here,” she said, pressing it into Mickey’s palm, “I won’t be too late. If I am, you girls can order a pizza.”
Mickey clicked her tongue and pocketed the money. “You say that like you’re doing us a favor, but you just don’t want to do the dishes if we make dinner.
“Two things can be true at once,” Kelly replied and then kissed her cheek. Kelly was back out of the room in a flurry, sucking the past ease out behind her in her fast-moving wake. Awkwardness settled in. Mickey shifted her weight from foot to foot before she went around turning off the computer, checking the drawers of Kelly’s desk and filing cabinets, closing the blinds, watering some plants he thought was fake, turning on a desk lamp, to turn off the overhead lights, grab her bag, and lock the door. James watched it all with curious eyes. He’d seen enough rom-coms—enjoyed them, devoured them, studied them—to know The Stall. But was it for his benefit?
“I’ll wait with you,” he said when she gave him a look, turning away from the door. “I’m heading in the same direction anyway.” She couldn’t argue that. Kelly did tell him to leave too, after all. She played with the keys in her hands, they jingled and jangled in her twitchy grip, and she nodded.
She still swung them in restless fingers when the bus drove up five minutes later. It was drowned out by the loud hiss as the bus settled and the doors opened. People gathered and bunched up, waiting to board after others got off. James swung his bag to the front digging in it as the line moved forward. Mickey boarded and he stepped back, still rooting around, giving space to others.
Finally, he found a few crumpled bills at the bottom of his bag—the leftovers of his per diem from the week—and dropped it in the collection container at the front of the bus. He quickly navigated his way past the rows at the front until he reached Mickey’s and dropped into the empty seat next to her. She froze, earbuds dangling from fingers halfway to her ears to stare at him.
“James?”
“Yes?” He settled his bag on his lap and stretched one leg out into the aisle. He forgot how close the seats could be.
“You don’t live this way.”
The bus rocked with new passengers boarding. “I know.”
“You’re going in the opposite direction.”
“For now.” She blinked. “You don’t like the bus.” She blinked again. Hmm. Maybe he needed to be a bit more obvious. “I’ll just ride it with you this way and take one back to the Palm Woods.”
It took for the bus doors to close and another hiss to be release as the bus pulled away for her to speak again. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugged. “No big deal.” Her hands slowly lowered back to her lap, earbuds rolling between her twisting fingers. His skin burned beneath her scrutinizing gaze. Okay, he had to change the subject. Lighten the mood. Find a safe topic to talk about. And what better, safter, topic than himself? “So! My audition really must have stood out!”
“…Among others.”
“Did I make a lasting impression?” He bumped her shoulder with his own as he asked, smoothing over his question, downplaying it even though it was filled with sincerity. He wanted to know. Needed to know, even.
“You’ve made a few.” In the past? Recently? Right now? What. Did. That. Mean? His answer came a second later, like an afterthought, "Your first impression was great.”
Awesome! Upgraded from good to great!
“Your second, not so much.”
A record scratched in his head "....Huh?"
The bus rattled and shook as they moved over a bump. Her nerves seemed to shake out her thoughts along with it. "Aunt Kelly would send some of the auditions to us. Usually the bad ones so we could laugh about them. Yours was really good. I actually had Mel call them to yell at them for me for how wrong Gustavo was.”
His mind whirled, slow to catch back up from that jarring hit. He hadn’t been rattled that hard since the hockey state semi-finals in freshman year when he had a cheapshot from behind into the plexiglass. Like then, it took a bit for him to reorient himself. So that meant… “…You’ve seen my audition before.”
“Yes. You, um, how can I put this?” She paused and he waited, held his breath, didn’t make a sound. He wanted to be sure he caught every word. She always chose them so carefully. “You had this…soul? To the song. I haven’t heard anyone else sing it like you did. Like you were deeply feeling the words and what he was saying. Which…only made me believe it. You know?”
“Oh.” He should’ve been able to come up with something better but his brain glitched as he took on the new information.
“After Kelly told us the news Gustavo was making a boy band? I, um, was hoping to meet you at some point. Especially after the song you chose.” He gaped at her and shrugged. “Which is why I was so confused that the James from the audition was so different from the James I met at the Palm Woods.”
“Oh.” He really needed to find something better to say. Sorry didn’t even come close. But how could he explain just what he felt when he first saw her? It was like he was struck by lightning, like everything he’d done in his life had brought him to that moment. Like he had an answer to a question he didn’t know existed or he’d been trying to find.
So he chased that feeling, that experience, and her by extension. And he messed it all up.
Boy, was he a giant turd.
Still… “…How’m I doing now?”
“…They say, third time’s the charm, right?” She bumped his shoulder with his, smiling softly. The sight of it made his shoulders drop and his breath ease. She held out one of her earbuds, gesturing to his ear. “I still have some bad auditions saved if you want to watch them.”
“Um, yeah!”
He pressed the earbud into his ear and leaned close, heads resting against each other’s while she pressed play.
"What are you doing here?" Mickey asked. Or at least tried. She had to stop and start a couple times due to the rounds of coughing that plagued her at the sight of him. James. Sitting outside her window on the fire-escape, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
"Kelly said you're sick," he said.
She blinked owlishly, nearly blinded by his smile. Or the sun. Her watery, half-lidded eyes couldn't handle more than the darkened room she'd been confined to for the last few hours, buried beneath her blankets until she heard a strange series of taps outside her window. Now she really wished it was just a dream. "No, I mean what are you doing here? How did you find the apartment?"
"Oh. Well, Logan—"
"Goddammit, Logan!" Her curse would've had much more effect if her words hadn't turned down in volume halfway through, leading her to clear her throat a couple times until it came back.
Her pointed a red cylinder at her. "You should've known it was only a matter of time."
Mickey made a face. He was right. The Boys were strangely persistent when they wanted to know, have, or get something. It was a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse, which is why Aunt Kelly worked hard to keep them from learning where they lived. The only address they had was her last apartment. They'd moved to this one soon after for the space and told her and her sisters to keep quiet so they wouldn't find out where it was. They're destructive, she explained. This is a nice place. I want to keep it that way. As if they needed the explanation. They'd seen their whirlwind first hand. They didn't need to be told twice.
"Shouldn't you be at—" she tried asking four times before giving up, body nearly holding in half as a rapid-fire series of coughs bulleted her elbow. Huffing, she flopped back against her pillows and focused on getting her breathing back to normal. Her head pounded, or was those her sinuses? Her throat was scraped raw and she didn't know whether to keep wearing the large hoodie or take it off. It should be illegal to feel hot and cold at the exact same time. "Why?" she finally managed to ask, motioning to him out the window.
He shifted from his previous position—sitting cross legged—to lean his arms against the windowsill. His elbows touched either end of the frame. "Being sick sucks," he said, resting his chin on his arms. Then he tilted his head to the side, eyes swinging upward. "Being sick alone sucks even more," he added a few moments later, an afterthought.
Her mouth twisted to the side. That look in his eye, the tender tone to his words, the feather-soft sigh, they lasted only for a second until he pulled his veil back down but she knew sad musings when she saw it. People thought nostalgia was the bitter pill to swallow, of nothing being the same anymore. Nothing being like how one wished had to be even worse.
"Thermos?" She rasped, pointing to the red cylinder in his hands. Her tactic worked, quickly putting the light back in his eyes.
"I brought you soup." He passed it through the window. Their fingers brushed and she frowned. His skin felt ice cold compared to hers. Setting the thermos next to her, she grabbed the half empty bottle of hand sanitizer off her nearby nightstand and held it out to him. With a small pout, he rubbed the quick-drying liquid on his hands. And she thought he was terrible about sunscreen. "I don't care if you get me sick."
"Uncle Gustavo would," she said.
"I'd be out of his bald for a few days. He'd thank you."
Her mouth opened to protest then she shut it a second later. He was right. Uncle Gustavo would probably throw a parade in her honor for getting one of the Boys away from him. Not that she'd show up for it. Crowds and too much attention was her own personal nightmare. Probably should've thought of that before getting in a band.
"What kind?" Steam wafted past her nose once the seal broke. Something thick and creamy sloshed along the inside of the thermos. She wished she could smell it. At least the heat would help soothe her throat.
"It's Bubbe's Penicillin Punch. Guaranteed to make you feel better in no time. And don't worry, I asked Mama Knight to make it."
"That's probably safe." Her raspy chuckle made her sound like an eighty-year-old smoker. "Since you can't boil water." And the last time she ate something he made, her face was up close and personal with the toilet for two hours. He'd held her hair back; that was nice.
James grumbled about being able to boil it, just not knowing he had to watch it while Mickey poured the soup into the cup of the thermos. It slid out smoothly, chunks of carrots, celery, corn, noodle, and chicken bobbed along the surface. Throwing her head back, she downed half the contents in one swoop.
"You don't want a spoon? I can get you one!"
She shook her head, blocking her mouth with her hand and she quickly chewed and swallowed. The minced food and brother slid down her throat, giving her a flash of relief. "Takes too much time." Plus, the last thing she wanted was for him to launch himself off the fire escape just for cutlery. She dragged her tongue along the edges of her mouth, catching the slow dripping beads of soup before she dropped her hand. "Noodles need to be appreciated to the full extent of their noodle goodness."
"You said noodle twice."
She nailed him with a look. "You bet I did."
Her raspy laugh returned when his mouth opened and closed in rapid succession, like a fish gasping for air. Finally he draped his arms through the window, fingers lightly flicking the panda-shaped sticky note stack that had fallen onto her blankets at one point, and pressed his cheek up against his arm, looking right at her. Heat crawled up her neck, which she knew had nothing to do with her cold. "Marry me!"
"I need a diamond first."
"I can give you my last name!"
She took another swig, blocking her smile with the small cup. "You said this was your bubbe's recipe?" He nodded. She mimicked him, savoring the taste on her tongue. "Thanks for sharing her with me."
James' eyes crinkled in the corners, a bashful smile curling his lips. he pointed his chin inward. "What're you watching?"
She settled back into against the pillows, "A League of Their Own."
At least she was. Last time she checked. She had blinked, just blinked, but when she opened her eyes the light in the sky had turned to a setting golden orange, the shadows on her wall tilted and stretched, and her window sat empty. Frowning, Mickey rubbed her wet, crusted eyes and sat up straighter.
Low chatter, running water, shifting pots and pans, and wafted in through the cracked door. Sammi's shoe cubby had every space accounted for. Her mint green messenger bag hung off the post of her bed.
Realizing it was later than she thought, Mickey pushed out a yawn, stretching her arms into the air. They landed unceremoniously in her lap and she spotted the panda sticking to her side of the raised window. Humming, she plucked it off with two of her fingers.
Didn't want to wake you. Hope you feel better! xJames
She traced a finger along the x before his name.
With a full belly and equally full heart, she definitely did.
james' canon bday + good weather + one of my all time favorite songs = this. it's just fluff. @raging-violets @myloveforhergoeson @partiallypearl @witchofinterest
The day was so beautiful it was almost unfair. Postcard worthy, even. Stark, blankets of blue sky stretched along the horizon, melting into the rolling cerulean waves off Venice Beach nearby. A diamond sun hung high, casting gleaming beams in every direction, soaking the beachline in fading summer.
Cool chill from the grass seeped up through his back. A light breeze brushed across his face. The weight of his world rested on his chest and every strong thump of his heart backed the soundtrack of this perfect moment in time he wanted tattooed on his memories.
"What's up?"
James tilted his chin, the crown of Mickey's head staring back at him. Her locs were patterned outward in a starbust direction, like a firework exploding in all directions. His fingers twitched with the urge to drag his fingers through it but he held himself back. He knew better. The back of his hand still stung from the first and last time he tried—it was supposed to be romantic—and he knew not to do that again.
"Nothing."
She hummed, lifted, and turned to face him, resting an arm across his chest to have something to brace her chin on. The crinkle to her brows smoothed when he leaned forward further and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. She wrinkled it in that way he found adorable, trying to be annoyed but failing.
"I can hear your brain," she said. Her finger pressed the space between his eyebrows, drawing small circles. "It works hard when you're thinking."
"Ha ha." He grasped her hand in a loose grip, bringing her palm up to his mouth. She smiled in that way that knocked him off balance. Good thing they were already laying down in the shade of a palm tree. LA's finest. Resting back on his arm, other hand cradling his neck, he rubbed his thumb along her palm, the tip of his nail catching the lines dragging from one side to the other.
The top one, the longest one, was the heart line, or so Jazz said. She liked to occasionally read their palms, tell them their futures. Half the time James thought she was messing with them, because, well, she was always messing with them, but as he memorized the long, thick heartline on Mickey's palm he wondered just how much her readings were true.
"What're you thinking about?"
"Besides you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Easy answer."
James shrugged, an easy smile gracing his lips. It was true, though. He was always thinking about her. "How much more time?"
Turning her arm, she glanced at the watch strapped to her wrist. "Two hours." He pouted. Why did time have to move? Why couldn't it just stop for a few minutes? "Time'll go faster if you keep thinking about it."
"I can't help it."
With a twist to her mouth, Mickey detangled from him, sitting back until she rested on her heels and looked down at him with a tilted head. "We talked about this."
"I know." He followed, lifting to his elbows, the pout never leaving his face. "It's my birthday."
"I have to be on tour."
"But it's my birthday." Blades of grass snapped off in his fingers in sharp tugs, fluttering away on the wind when he let go.
Her shoulders bounced in a shrug. "So you said."
Pout dropping, his eyes fell to a half-lidded indignation. "You can at least act like you miss me."
Her mouth eased, turning wry with unrestrained amusement. "I think you miss me enough for the both of us." He grunted and she let out a soft chuckle. "I'll make sure to write it in the sky next time."
He thought about it for a moment and shook his head. "I want a parade."
"A parade!?"
"It's my birthday!"
"And, what, you think it should be celebrated like a national holiday?"
"Duh! It comes around once a year. It's celebrates an important figure—me. Everything should go my way on my day. That's the rules."
"Life doesn't work like that."
"Well...it should."
She tucked thick corded strands behind her ear and twisted to the side. A dandelion snapped off in her fingers from her quick pluck of the ground and she held it out to him. "Make a wish. Sorry it's not a candle." The buds burst beneath the heft of his blow. They danced and swayed on the wind, bobbing and weaving catching the air currents. "That was fast." The little white nodes twinkled like golden snow. "You didn't want to think about it?"
"Didn't have to." He twisted the empty stem in his fingers, flicked it away. "I wish you'd stay."
Her shoulders sagged. "You know I can't." She lightly traced the line of his sternum. "I got lucky with the three hours I could squeeze in to fly out before i have to head back. They'll kill me if I miss the show to tonight."
But where was his luck? It was his day! Everything was supposed to work out his way! Everyone was supposed to cater to him! That's not to say he wasn't happy he could get those three hours, that she worked it out with Kelly to fly in and out for Mason's next show stop. But he'd never had a girlfriend on his birthday before. Maybe a little time was better than nothing but a whole girlfriend was better than playing phone tag for the last few weeks. What was the point of getting what he wanted, finally, when it kept slipping through his fingers?
Her hand splayed and his heart strummed beneath her palm. The tumult in his mind eased, almost as if the word she pushed through her eyes filled his lungs. Breathe. She was here. At least she tried. After all, three hours was better than three minutes. Three hours was better than five months. That was the last he'd last spoken to his dad. Better than the seven he'd last spoken to his mom.
Was she still waiting for him to call her, like she did every time his birthday came around? Waiting for the platitudes and the thanks and the recognition? Or did she forget? Was that a better option?
"How much more time?" James asked.
Thankfully she humored him. "One hour and fifty-three minutes."
They all belonged to her.
"Let's make the most of it."
She held out her hand. "Thought we already were."
He grasped it and the two stumble-stepped to their feet, balancing on the rollerblades—his—and roller skates—hers—still strapped to them when they'd stopped skating to lie down and take a break.
They cruised a few inches when, with a quick shift of his weight, James glided in front of her, crouching. Her arms wrapped around his neck, legs around his waist, and the soft press of her cheek against his threw bright flares over his sun-soaked haze, like the glitter dotted sea in the distance.
soon after mickey realizes and accepts she has feelings for james she has a hard time acting "normal" around him. and asking him out? forget it. she panics and keeps throwing away her phone to pace and lament and overthink every word choice of a simple text. mel points out she has it easy because she already knows james' feelings for her and she didn't have to do anything for him to like her. and while mickey knows this she also knows he could have changed his mind.
so she tries to flirt. emphasis on tries. because she is terrible, turning into a stammering mess who overexplains her thoughts and overclarifies her attempts to see if he wanted to hang out or if he was still going to their group skating outing. besides, how do you flirt with someone whose breathing could be considered flirting?
after they finally get together mickey comments that her flirting had to be really bad if on a not-yet-first-date he had to ask if she was flirting with him. james admits it wasn't that he didn't notice, it was that he brushed it off because he'd convinced himself he gave up on the chance she'd ever like him back and he didn't want to pressure her. in the end james asks her to be a bit more obvious with it, which takes a bit for mickey to get out of her comfort zone to do so. but once she falls into the groove it's easy because she loves the way he gets flustered and loves the feeling knowing she was the one to put him in that state.
i don't really have anything to say about this one. just that this is one of my all time favorite btr eps. i wish they did more bottle episodes, or rather more episodes where everyone was all in one place with intertwining plots. also, jett was the best part of this episode hands down! i loved all his scenes!
Mickey heaved a sigh of relief when the broom closet door closed. She rested her back against it, eyes darting from side to side. The last thing she wanted was to get caught; she’d lose her job over this! Not that she really needed the job, being in a band tended to help with a lot of expenses but she wanted to keep it.
She loved picking up shifts at Chez Fancee when she wasn’t busy. Being in the thick of a dinner rush, creating delectable French cuisine, and providing a great experience and lasting memories for the guests gave her a rush nothing could touch. Performing onstage in front of thousands of people came close. And yet here she was putting it all on the line to make sure her friend had a great date.
They can’t say I don’t do anythin’ for ‘em!
“Katie, I love your style, but knocking him out was a little much I think,” Mickey commented when Katie rushed around the corner. A tree hat sat atop of her head, accompanied by leaves and fronds hanging off her clothes. If she stood still long enough people could mistake her for a plant.
“It’s just a dinner roll, he’ll be fine,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“If that knocked Henri out, I don’t think he will be,” Mickey said, glancing over her shoulder at the closed door. She didn’t have much time to think about Henri and his apparently compromised health or balance due to a hissing by her ear. Katie and Mickey both looked in the direction of the sound. A second later James popped his head around the corner, his short hair slicked to his head.
“Pssssssst!” he hissed again, louder.
“Keep a look out,” she told Katie. Katie gave her a thumbs up sign and Mickey rushed around the corner, glancing back to ensure the manager didn’t catch her. He was a nice guy, especially for giving her a shot with her unpredictable schedule. She didn’t want to ruin that. But then again, on the flipside, she didn’t want Carlos to have a bad date with Jennifer 3. Jennifer 3 was very nice once you got to know her. And Mickey had total hair envy when it came to Jennifer 3.
“Help!” James hissed once Mickey got within reach of her.
Mickey came to a stop, blinking rapidly while looking him up and down. “With…with what?” She asked because, well, it couldn’t be with how he looked. He looked good. James always looked good, but he looked good. She actively had to remind herself to keep her jaw from dropping. Her momma always said to never underestimate the power of a guy in a suit, and she was not kidding. With James’ slicked hair and his nice clothes, he looked as if he were ready to film scenes in an old Hollywood movie. The only thing missing was a cigar nestled between two fingers.
“The guys are here!” he replied, tugging the bottom of his tuxedo jacket.
Mickey made a face, shifting the tracks of her mind from James on the glossy pages of GQ to the issue at hand. God, she hoped he didn’t notice the heat pooling in her cheeks. “Which guys?”
“All of them! Kendall and Jazz are here with Kelly and…some guy—”
“Oh, that’s Owen!” Perking up, Mickey breathed easier. This was a safe topic. “He’s our UPS guy. They were supposed to be going somewhere el—”
“And Logan’s here with some girl who looks like him and Camille’s here with Jett!” James continued, his voice kicking up a notch.
“Okay, that’s not too bad. …I gotta ask her about that later but that’s not too bad.” Honestly, she could do better than Jett. And weren’t she and Logan just together that morning? Mickey made a mental note to ask Camille about this whole situation later. Her dramatics would certainly make the story interesting, and something told her she’d need a good story after a long night. But damn they were more topsy-turvy than a see-saw!
“Gustavo’s here too!”
Mickey gasped. “Oooh, that’s bad!”
“I know!” James cried out, fiddling with the untied bowtie hanging around his neck.
“He’s supposed to be watching his blood pressure,” Mickey continued.
“…That’s kind of not the point—gah!” The end of his sentence chopped off due to him tightening the bowtie loop around his neck. His eyes bulged and his tongue stuck out, his fingers scrambling for the loop knot he’d made. Seconds passed and red grew in his cheeks. “Mickey…Mickey, help!”
“Oh my god! Stop, stop, let me do it!” Mickey slapped his hands away and stepped closer, yanking the knot away from his neck. His chest heaved with his deep breath and she swallowed the lump rising, watching the fabric stretch across it. Focus! Gathering her wits, she pulled the bowtie apart, letting the two ends lie parallel to his neck. Smoothing the ends between her fingers, she took in a Cuda-scented breath through her nose and began to let her fingers fly in practiced ease. Doing her best to ignore the rise and fall of his chest, Mickey clicked her tongue. “You can tie a necktie, but you can’t tie a bowtie?”
“Mama Knight usually does it for me.”
The simple sincerity in his answer made her take pause, her fingers fumbling before they stilled. Nose wrinkling, she pulled the half-knot apart and started again. “That’s nice of her.”
“Yeah, she’s really cool.”
She gave the finished bowtie a few tugs making sure it held tight and smoothed her hands down his chest. His heart beat hard beneath her fingers. Her eyes flew open wide and her lips parted and pushed out a squeak before backing away, directing her eyes to the floor, dropping her arms to her sides. “Sorrysorrysorry!” Her apology slammed together, falling off her tongue faster than she could form the words. If James said anything she didn’t hear it, didn’t want to hear it. The further away she kept him, the better. In fact, she managed to form some semblance of a sentence, telling him she’d be right back, before rushing off. She ducked behind the host stand when her manager and a few servers walked by, carrying large trays. It was where she wanted to go anyway. She tugged the box of items that had been left behind by patrons, rummaging through it until she found what she needed. With a triumphant grin, she hurried back to James. Along the way she grabbed an extra apron from the entryway to the kitchen; it fluttered behind her like a cape.
“Okay, tie this around your waist,” she said, a little breathless, once she reached him. “Keep a booklet in your pocket to take orders.”
“I can’t take orders!” James said, doing as he was told. A few quick twists of his fingers and the apron lay against his waist. “I’m not an actual server!”
“I know, but you’re going to take Carlos and Jennifer’s orders. And by that, I mean it’s already written. I picked out the best dishes for them. Pretend to take their orders and bring the paper to me. I’ll make sure the food is perfect and out on time.”
“Oh.” James took the notebook out of the pocket and opened it up. “You have nice handwriting.”
“Thank you.” Mickey sucked in a breath, blinked, and got her mind back on the topic at hand. “Katie will be running interference. Check on them every now and then. If you need anything, I’ll be right behind those doors. Now, how’s your French?”
“Huh?”
“French. Do you know any French?”
James’s eyes lifted to the ceiling as he thought for a moment. When he looked back down, a light had ignited behind his eyes. “Voulez vous couch—”
“Stop it.” Mickey squeezed her eyes shut as she thrust out her palm, blocking his words.
James’s shoulders rounded. “Sorry.”
“Forever.”
“Got it.”
Honestly, why was that always someone’s first answer? They needed to get more material. Whatever. She had more things to worry about. Waving her hands in front of her, she wiped his slate clean. “Forget it. How’s your French accent?”
“Oui oui, hon hon, try ze baguette.”
Her eye twitched. “…Close enough. Just keep that up and keep your face hidden and we should be fine. Just, one more thing…” She reached upwards and he obediently leaned forward, moving in sync. She pressed a large, fake mustache against his top lip, keeping a firm hold for a few seconds. Once secure she slipped a pair of glasses over his nose and took a step back, looking at him with new eyes. It was so unfair he looked good in glasses too. Her big reading glasses probably would look good on him too, on her they made her look like a nerd. Well, she was a nerd to a degree, but the glasses didn’t help. She clapped her hands together, the sharp sound making James jump. “Okay, team, we’re all set! Remember, we’re doing this for Carlos.”
“Friendship powers, activate!” James announced, pointing a triumphant finger in the air.
“I’m not doing it this time,” Katie said with a shake of her head, making James pout. Mickey jumped in, easily executing the odd handshake James had come up with, doing her best to ignore the spark at her fingertips upon their hands touching. He’d been working on it for weeks, mostly with Carlos and sometimes with her, noting it’d only be brought out when they really needed it. And Carlos really needed them.
The group split up with James holding his arm up to his face, looking much like Batman with his cape draped up to his face. With a few quick flicks of her wrist, Mickey cuffed the sleeves of her dress shirt, only catching the smirk on Katie’s face at the last second. “You two looked cozy,” Katie all but sang.
“Shut up, Katie,” Mickey grumbled. “You’re the one who didn’t want to do the handshake.”
“Because it’s dumb. I don’t know why you encourage those idiots.”
“I’m beginning to wonder that myself.” Deep down Mickey knew. It was because they were fun, and they were her friends. Back home she only really had her sisters as friends. And, yeah, maybe they all came along just because of their connection to Kelly but she loved the guys. They made her life interesting. She wouldn’t have fun like this back on the East Coast. She and her sisters had their own kinds of adventures but the adventures she’d been having out here with them were on another level.
“Do you really think Jennifer 3 could be the girl for him?” Katie spoke up after a moment of silence.
“I think he’s trying hard,” Mickey said slowly, “and he shouldn’t have to try hard. So, as long as we get him relaxed, anything could happen.” She bit her lip, peering past Katie to see Carlos’ and Jennifer’s table nearby. “He’s very sweet. Any girl would be lucky to have someone like him. They just have to notice.”
Shrugging, Katie went to blend in with the plants. Mickey ran her hands over her hair, smoothing down any stray kinky curls, blowing out a breath. She caught James’ eye from across the room. He grinned and held up his hand, wiggling the shaka sign. Their secret way of communicating, checking if everything was okay. She smiled and waved the sign back.
If there was one thing she learned about being around them, everything would work out the way it needed to.
note: as part of my series rewrites, i’d replace “big time bloopers” with an episode called “big time confession”. it’s the last episode of season 3 and would be about the mason girls preparing to go on their first tour with them, and the btr guys, dealing with the changes that come with it. this would be the ending scene of the episode and the season.
Mickey grunted at the rapping of knuckles on the side of her head and dragged her hands down her face. Momentarily blinded from the warm glow of the lights around the Palm Woods’ pool deck, she blinked until Kendall’s face broke through the haze. Her jumping heart slowed at the sight of him.
“Hey Kindle.” Her hands dropped to her stomach, cradling her.
He pointed to the space next to her. “Mind if I sit?”
“Free country.”
He sat at the edge of the pool deck, crossing his legs and resting his elbows against his knees. Mickey stared up at the dark sky above them, eyes trailing the edges of the clouds hanging above. Water lapped at her calves as she dragged her legs forward and back in in the pool. The silence between them broke when Kendall huffed. “Look, I’m trying to respect your space and everything but you need to talk to James. You’re making him crazy.”
She lifted her head, eyebrows colliding at his statement and the stern expression on his face. “What? How? I didn’t even do anything.”
“Exactly.” She blinked at the speed behind which he jabbed his finger in her direction. “You’ve been avoiding him and it’s been making him more annoying than usual.”
“I can’t help that.” She sat up all the way and brushed her loose locs out of her face. Dragging her hand through a few snarled tendrils, she pulled them to fall on one side, blocking his face. “And I haven’t been avoiding him.” Even she didn't believe that lie.
“Oh yeah? Usually you two are always hanging out and now you’re not.”
Mickey shrugged one shoulder, nose wrinkling. She gripped the edge of the pool, her knuckles whitened beneath her grip. “I’ve been busy," she said to her lap. "We are about to go on tour.”
“Ok. Fair point.” She certainly thought so. Of course, that didn’t placate him. Kendall never seemed to be one fully satisfied anyway. “Still, he’s one of my best buds. It’s not cool to hang him out to dry like that.” Slats of Kendall’s face broke through her wall of hair, breaking the concern on his face into pieces. She sucked in her breath, only for it to be sucker-punched out of her at when he continued speaking. “Especially because he doesn’t know what he did wrong.”
She’d never heard him so quiet, so hurt. Not like this. There was his breakup with Jo, but he wailed and moaned about that more than he appeared hurt by their split. She may as well have directly kicked him with how wounded he sounded. And somehow that made it all worse, made the guilt she’d been trying to ignore all day deepen and twist in a sickening whirlpool. “He didn’t do anything wrong," she whispered.
“Okay, so what’s the deal?”
God! If only she knew! Another sickening pang hit her, knocking the truth to the forefront. She knew. That was the problem. She knew what she’d been doing all along. It’d become easier to protect herself than it was to be honest with herself. Because honesty came with risk, came with hurt. But what was the difference when she hurt herself putting herself out there and doing nothing? “You really can’t leave well enough alone, can you?” The defeat in her voice scratched a line of shame down her spine.
He leaned over, nudging her shoulder with his, a whisper of a smile on his lips. “Someone once said I have a problem with being defiant.”
“Yeah, that was me," she said with a scoff.
“So you know I’m not gonna let up.”
She nudged him back. “You wouldn’t be Kendall if you did.”
His eyes softened and, for once, Mickey saw in Kendall what Jazz did: his loyalty, his support, his charisma. If it were anyone else she could hide, but he saw through her in a way she didn’t anticipate. And for once she was tired of hiding. “Just give the guy a break and talk to him.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Why not? You’re talking to me just fine.”
“Yeah, because you don’t matter.”
“Ouch.” He smirked.
She mimicked his smirk. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I get it, don’t worry.” He pressed his lips together and pulled them to one side, bringing a dimple out in one cheek. “You know, I used to envy James.” At the look on her face, he chuckled and said, “Yeah, I know, big surprise. Guy gets all the looks, can sing like a bird, and basically gets things handed to him. He never really had to work for anything while my mom…” He made a face and shook his head. “Anyway, he always walks around like he knows he’s going to get the outcome he wants because he’s that sure of himself. I used to think it was arrogance but it’s not.” Mickey suppressed a smile, and he rolled his eyes. “Okay, it’s a little bit of arrogance. But it’s also that he has this innate talent, this…power he exudes. I’ve never seen him try with anything…until it came to you.” Another sour pitching wave crashed against her shore. “God, it used to be so annoying how everything just…came to him on a silver platter. Literally. Once, he got new ice skates delivered to school on a silver platter because he left his pair at home before a game and his mom didn’t want him to come back for them. And when it came to girls, from the time he was ten he’d had them fighting for him. He didn’t have to do much to get their attention.
“But with you, this is the most I’ve seen him try. Not to get a girl to like him; for once I don’t think he cares about that, he just cares about you.” Her eyes burned about as much as the shame burned in her chest. “He cares that you’re happy or upset and he cares about how much you love food and the hospitality that comes with taking care of people and he cares about you finding your voice and your love for music. He’s trying, Mickey. And you know he likes you. The least you can do is meet him halfway.”
Mickey closed her eyes in a long, slow blink, shutting down the tears threatening to spill over her wall. She swallowed the lump rising in her throat, let out a slow breath, and steeled herself. The last thing she wanted was to completely fall apart, even if it was all her own doing. “What would this world be without a Kendall Knight pep talk?” She eked out a watery smile. “Never thought I’d be on the receiving end of one.”
“First time for everything, right?” Kendall squeezed her shoulder. “He’s a good guy.”
“I know.” Boy, did she know. He’d only proved it to her time and time again with his deep well of patience and understanding, something he’d let peek past his mask of vanity only a few times until he slipped it off in her company. He’d made it comfortable enough for her to do the same with hers. And she thought she couldn’t drown in her shame even more.
“Is it okay if I send him over? He’s been sad-eating mini quiches for the last fifteen minutes.” Kendall jerked his thumb over his shoulder. She leaned over, following its path only to let out a hoot of a laugh just to slap her palm over her mouth at the sight of him standing alone at the food table few ways away from the crowd in the lobby. The frown on his face barely contained the snack he solemnly chewed.
“Oh, I shouldn’t laugh. But it’s so—”
“Sad. Definitely.” He patted her shoulder and hopped up from the side of the pool, shoving his hands in his pockets. Standing above her in the light he may as well have been bathed in gold.
“Ken, Jazz is lucky to have you,” Mickey said.
He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s actually the other way around.”
As he retreated Mickey turned her eyes back to the rippling surface of the pool, throwing back the broken and shifting lines on her face. She blew a raspberry at her reflected face and rubbed her hands against her real one, scrubbing away the remnants of unease coating her. This was fine, all fine. It was just James. She could do this. But as he approached, a little timid but still exuding the power which seemed to seep from his pores, the word just didn’t come anywhere near doing him justice. He wasn’t just anything. Not to her.
“Hey,” he said. He didn’t ask to sit, easing himself down in a motion so fluid he may as well have been made of water. He sat close; his arm brushed against hers, sending a pleasant flutter through her.
“Hey.”
“So…excited for tour?”
That was sweet of him, giving her an out. That wasn’t what he wanted to ask; she knew that as sure as she knew her way around her bass. She looked at him, really looked at him, took in the curl of his long lashes shielding the uncertainty in his eyes. James Diamond could be scared, he’d allowed her to see that vulnerability before, but never had she seen it because of her mere presence. Or maybe it was her own projected back at her?
“No,” she answered, the sincerity surprised even her. Not the weight of it but the ease of which she held it, sat with it, let it exist.
“Oh. Don’t worry, you’ll have fun. Touring’s the best part. You get to see the fans and see the sights and see just how much your music has directly changed someone’s life.”
She knew. She’d seen it firsthand when they were still their backing band, when they were still in the background. Seen the way the guys’ eyes lit up the first time people sung their songs back to them, the awe when the crowds of fans screamed and cried for them at various airports, the sheer delight and undercurrents of gravity when decompressing after a meet-and-greet. But it was different when they were experiencing it all together.
“That’s…that’s not the part I’m not excited about.”
He hummed. “You get over homesickness pretty fast.”
“What’s it called when you’re homesick for a person[1]?” He sucked in a breath at that, chest swelling. She heard the heavy thuds of his heartbeat. Or was that her own? She took in a breath, let it out, took in another one, and pushed forward, letting her words out before she shut them off again. “Look. I-I know I haven’t been…the best person to you today. It was easier to bury myself into the work for the showcase and getting everything settled for tour. I shouldn’t have ignored you though. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Her locs slapped her face with how vigorously she shook her head. “No it’s not! I knew what I was doing. I knew it’d hurt you but I did it anyway. Because…well, because it was easier to deal with that hurt than how much it was going to hurt to say bye. To...you.”
“...Oh.”
She couldn't read his face and her muscles twitched the urge to run but she stuffed it down and kept going. “It’s easier to say it to everyone else. I didn’t know how to say it to you. I didn’t want to say it to you. It sounds so final and I don’t…I realized I don’t want us to be final.”
“…Us?”
The hope in his voice propelled her forward. “Yeah. If that’s okay? I…I really like you, James.”
A slow smile stretched on his face and sunshine cast glitter in his eyes. “Really?”
Mickey nodded, her heart beating slow and steady against her chest, stuttering her breaths. “And-and I want to give us a chance before we don’t have a chance. I know my timing is bad but…” But she couldn't miss her chance. James was special, if anyone else figured that out while she was gone, well, she'd be the biggest idiot on the face of the planet.
James’ hand brushed against her arm and he pushed her hair out her face, tucking the forefront locs behind her ear, rubbing his thumb against her cheek. Her skin burned beneath the caress of his skin on her cheekbone. “Mickey, any chance with you is worth the wait.”
Laughing in relief, Mickey leaned forward until their foreheads pressed together and she smelled James and felt the heat on his skin and counted his teeth smiling back at her and brushed her nose against his and tasted the sweet, bubbling tang of Diet Coke—the only soda he’d drink—clinging to his lips and tongue.
She pressed a kiss to his cheek when they pulled away, to stave off the giggles threatening to rise up her throat and to hide the blush on her cheeks at the lingering touch of his tongue on hers. He took the time to take her hand, lacing their fingers together.
“Should we go back in?” His words vibrated against her forehead resting against his neck. She fit perfectly. “They have those dumpling things you like.”
“You just want to tell everyone.”
“That too.” His words smiled in place of having to see his face.
“Doesn’t matter anyway. They already know.” Lifting her head, she pointed over his shoulder. James turned, granting them both the sight of Kendall, Carlos, Logan, Camille, Lucy, Jo, Katie, Sammi, Jazz, and Mel with their faces pressed up against the glass of the windows looking out on the pool deck. They all gave a start when noticed and nearly bumped into one another in their haste to get away. Carlos’ wails of, “I’m just so happy!” followed behind as he dabbed his eyes and Logan patted his back. She rested her chin on his shoulder. “Can we just sit for a bit? Just us? I'm not really in a rush.” She softly laughed at her own pun. She couldn't help it, the opportunity was right there. And it fit, with them, with how his band was the reason they first met in this exact place, by the Palm Woods pool.
He leaned the side of his head against hers and nodded. “I’d like that.”
-------
[1] There is a word that’s very close to this feeling: saudade. In case you don’t know, it’s from Brazilian and Portuguese culture about the feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia for something that once brought joy, excitement, or pleasure but then triggers a sense of separation. The closest English word to it is desiderium, which means a powerful desire or yearning, esp for something once had.
i don't think we're "just friends" anymore. + for either mickames or kazz?
i'll do you one better and do both! @raging-violets @witchofinterest
mickames: ferret out
"Just make sure you don't take your eyes off him for too long. He'll get into everything. If there's a hole, he'll find it; an opening, he'll squeeze through it; a new place to explore, he'll explore it; some food—"
"I get it!" James interrupted. Whether it was his sudden outburst or the tower of ferret supplies in his arms shifting, he scrambled and shifted his hold to keep everything from falling to the floor. Once secure, he looked around the carrier and bed and flashed Mickey a smile. "Pip'll be fine with us. Don't worry"
"I don't want him to be 'fine'." She pulled a corner of her lip into her mouth and pushed up the sleeves of her hoodie with the front blaring IT'S TOO PEOPLE-Y OUTSIDE in only to pull them back down a second later and grasp the hems in her fingers. "He has to follow his schedule. And stick to his diet! I don't want to risk him getting stuck anywhere. And don't let Mr. Bitters find him! Or Buddha Bob. He has some strange vendetta against weasels." She sighed and a far away look came to my eye. "What am I forgetting?"
"To breathe." James set the pile down on the island counter. "We'll take good care of him. I promise."
Mickey gave him a look. "Last time you said 'I promise' to me, the fire department had to get me out of the washing machine."
A sheepish smile came to James' face and he let out an awkward laugh. "Well...that won't happen this time because Pip is too small to get stuck there! And Bandana Man won't forget you next time."
"Mhm." How the hell James managed to talk her into being part of his Bandana Man movie was one thing, but she had to have completely lost her mind to let him talk her into getting into the washing machine so he, sorry, Bandana Man could 'rescue' her. The fire department had a good laugh that day. So she must've had a complete brain transplant to ask him, and the other guys, to watch her ferret for her. But her hands were tied; she couldn't leave him alone, Logan was at least somewhat responsible, and she didn't trust uncle Gustavo wouldn't turn him into a handbag.
"Why don't you trust me?"
Experience sat on her tongue, ready to jump off at his silly question but the look in his eye stopped her. So earnest and hurt, shame nearly bowled her over. "I do trust you," she said. It wasn't the truth to the words that shocked her but the ease of which they came, as if she didn't have to think about it. "It's just...Pip is very important to me." Speaking the ferret's name, Pipsqueak, aka Pip, popped his head out of the hood of her sweatshirt and extended his long, noodle-like body until he squeaked and nuzzled against her cheek. She scratched beneath his chin. "I...I can't have anything happen to him."
"I get it," James said. "And I won't let anything happen to him." He rubbed Pip on the head and turned; his thumb just barely touched her cheek. Her skin crackled. "He's important to you so...he's important to me."
Her raw nerves smoothed out only to be replaced by a strange but not entirely unpleasant twisting to her stomach. "Okay." She grabbed Pip out of her hood and craddled him in his arms, placing a kiss to the top of his head to get James to stop looking at her like that. Or get herself to stop looking at James. "He likes freeze dried minnows so you can use those as a treat. And...and if he makes his high-pitched kinda clucking noise, he's happy. And if he makes a panting noise, he's very happy. Oh, and he talks in his sleep sometimes so don't let that scare you. This is the number to his vet and then his emergency vet. He loves sleeping with his tennis ball so make sure he has it. Oh! And if he hasn't moved in a bit, check on him. He likes to play dead and well, you know. And if anything goes missing, check his cage. He's started to hoard shiny things. I think he got it from Sammi."
"Got it," James said with a nod.
"Okay," she said again, letting out a long sigh. Her phone buzzed and she retrieved it, glancing at the message Kelly sent that they needed to get going. She hated this part. Holding Pip out to James, he carefully took the ferret who immediately curled up in his arms. Letting out a noise, she stepped forward and peppered Pip's little face with kisses. "I'm gonna miss you so much!"
"I'll miss you too."
"Not you!" She did her best to throw an unamused look James' way but her efforts to restrain her smile failed her. Instead, she rolled her eyes, heat rising to her face. "Please send me updates."
"I'll send you pictures every hour."
"Geeze, when did you guys get a baby?" Logan asked, lowering the newspaper covering his face. Mickey jumped and looked past James to see him. His eyebrows were furrowed and his nose wrinkled. "Actually, better question, when did you get married?"
She spluttered for a few seconds only to land on sticking her tongue out at him. Sheesh, she forgot he was there. Heck, she forgot she asked him to be there when she dropped Pip off so he wouldn't go running away the first chance he got. He could've said something...
Her phone buzzed again. Judging by the clipped phrasing and proper punctuation Aunt Kelly used that time, she meant business. She bid the two goodbye, James going so far as lifting Pip's leg to wave back at her, and she left 2J.
By the time she reached the elevators Logan's comment replayed in her head. When did you get married? She laughed a little. What a silly question. It was true she and James were getting along really well lately, they were friends. Just friends. And who else could you count on if not your friends?
But, as she pressed the button for the first floor and the doors slid shut, a quieter voice spoke in her head: I don't think we're "just friends" anymore.
------
kazz: lip out
"So...are we dating?"
"Hmm?" Jazz hummed while lining up her shot. It was a bit of a tricky one. From where she stood the green stretched out and then shifted at a sharp curve, the hole blocked by strategically planted bushes in the way. Should she bounce it off the wall or try to go for the crest?
"I mean, I don't think we're 'just friends' anymore, so...that means we're dating right?"
Kendall was so cute when he was uncertain. A tiny part of her wanted to drag it out, make him suffer a little. But the rest of her decided to cut him some slack; he suffered enough at the hands of Uncle Gustavo. "Sounds good to me."
"...That's it?"
"Yeah." Noting the way he pressed his lips into a line, she rested her weight on the putter in her hand. "What's the big deal, Knight? Was the label that important to you?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "No. I mean. I guess? I mean, i'm just checking..."
"Well, I have no problem hangin' out with you and the guys but it somehow always ends up with just you. We are..." she paused, squinting at the marker down the course, "...seven holes into mini golf and you keep making not-so-subtle excuses to be near me—which i'm not complaining about, by the way. Plus, I wouldn't be spendin' this much time with you if I didn't like you. So sure, we're dating." She shrugged. "Can't see a downside to it."
"Okay." He dragged out the word as if he didn't trust it. She'd be offended if it weren't a good idea on his part. "Sure. Great."
A smile slowly grew on her face at his hefted breath, dropped shoulders, and nodding. "Been workin' on that all night, have you?" She pinched his chin between her thumb and finger, making a cooing sound of pity. "No wonder your score is so high."
He pressed his lips together but his shining eyes and dimples denting his cheeks gave him away. "Maybe you're distracting," he said.
She shook her head, back away from him. With a sigh, she re-took her stance and practice swung by her pink ball. "Bad excuse. I know I'm hot but you manage to go every day without being distracted by it."
"That's what you think."
She suppose he meant to keep that comment under his breath but she heard it and it turned up the wattage on her smile. Turning at the waist, she placed a hand on her hip and lifted an eyebrow. "Then we've been wasting time and that's upsetting." Kendall's eyes narrowed for a moment and then widened. He blinked, a knowing curling his lips and he stepped closer. She tilted her head up and waited, tightening her grip on the putter. His nose brushed hers and, with a laugh, she pressed the head of the club into his chest and pushed him until he was arm's length away, smirking. "You somehow beat me, then I might forgive you for wasting my time. And you better make that worth my while."
