A/N: I saw someone here make a Jade and Floyd bento box and that inspired the idea. Might make a pt 2 with the Vice house wardens, and a pt with the rest of the of the characters, depends on how this does >-<
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The clock ticked, drawing closer to lunch time. Most students waited all day for this, a time where you can enjoy lunch with your friends. A nice little break from the lectures. But not you, Crowley had been kind enough to let you and Grim enroll at the school, but since you technically counted as one student you both revive one lunch to share.
Now the problems didn't stop there, for Grim ate like a man on the verge of starving, barely leaving anything for you.
So here you were listening to the professor rant on as you dreaded the ringing bell. Ace had noticed your distain. Originally planning on coping your notes he instead asked you what got you so down.
" I don't have anything for lunch, and I can't head back to Ramshackle to pick something up, and even if I could that would mean missing Dinner."
"Why not just ask Jack or Deuce? I'm sure they'd share." Ace pondered, flipping his pencil between his fingers.
"Not even offering your lunch? how kind of you to offer theirs." Ace poked you with his pencil's eraser. "Besides, I don't want them to miss out on lunch, they need their strength to do magic."
Mr. Crewel cleared his throat, "Well, since you pups seem to like taking, why don't you tell me the answer?" he shot you two a sharp glare.
You and Ace sunk into your seats, trying to avoid the glances of your peers.
You lunch time struggles would have to be solved later, for now you had an angry teacher to answer.
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Riddle Rosehearts ♡
He had overheard you venting to Ace
How could Crowley let this happen?!
Doesn’t he know the importance of a balanced meal? A student needs a good meal to perform their best!
Besides a still developing mind need nutrition
So, seeing as he is the housewarden of Heartslabyul (yes, he knows you aren’t in his dorm, but still), he took it upon himself to prepare you lunch!
He made sure it was not only healthy but also visually appealing
The carrots were cut into hearts, and the cherry tomatoes arranged like roses
And he had even written a note! And Trey had made cupcakes for you and Grim
Riddle approached right before your lunch period, boxes in hand
“It is important that you eat, I have prepared a lunch for you, it has all your necessary nutrients.”
You were a bit surprised, had Ace told him about your lunch struggles? Uh, doesn’t matter, you weren’t going to pass up free food!
“Dearest Prefect,
I hope this lunch will suffice, should you ever need assistance with meals Heartslabyul will always be open for you. Trey and I would love to assist you.
Signed, Housewarden of Heartslabyul, Riddle R♡sehearts”
Malleus Draconia ♡
Word travels fast, so by the time Malleus had heard about your troubles it happened to be close to lunch
Well, the Headmage will be receiving a stern talking to that is for sure
Lilia is actually the one to bring up making lunch for you, though Malleus is quick to offer to make it himself, he isn't sure you could survive Lilia’s… peculiar cookie style.
Though Malleus isn’t much of a cook himself
But luckily you had been giving him lessons about modern technology! So, he was sure the internet had to be of some use
After finding a perfect recipe he began assembling the best lunch he could for you
Fresh greens and a filing main dish
His magic definitely helped carry the process along
The meal wasn’t the prettiest, but after taste testing it himself, he deemed it worthy of you
He even made a smaller one for Grim with the leftovers
Topping it with a note he ordered Sebek to deliver it to you
And Sebek made sure you knew just how lucky you are to have a lunch prepared by the prince of Briar valley!
“Geeting Child of man,
I assure you that Crowley will be making sure you are well fed, but just to be sure I have taken it upon myself to prepare you lunches, perhaps you may share your opinions and preferences next, we meet?
Yours faithfully, Prince Malleus Draconia”
Vil Schoenheit ♡
Rook told him
And he may or may not have gasped in horror like, seven times while hearing about it
How does Crowley expect you to be running around fixing all the school's problems on an empty stomach?!
So of course he makes you lunch! It wouldn’t be that much more work since he already makes Epel and himself lunch
And with the years he has spent modeling he has learned how to make the blandest and depressing (yet nutritious) meal taste good
He also makes you a smoothie because you deserve it <3
Everything is perfectly portioned to make sure you are full
He makes a little note folded into a little heart on fancy posted note paper
And hands it off the Epel to give you at lunch
“I better not hear you’re missing out on meals again sweetie, if you need lunch just let me know, I have written my personal number down for you so you can contact me. Don’t let anyone get a hold on this note though, last thing I need is my phone blowing up from a bunch of fans that aren’t you.
-Vil 👑"
Azul Ashengrotto ♡
Though your reasons for missing meals are different from him that doesn’t make it any better
He worries for you, but he makes sure to keep it hidden well
So, he whips you up something at the Mostro Lounge, nothing too extravagant, but enough to get you through the day
And he won’t hand deliver it; he has Jade do it (he doesn’t trust Floyd to not eat it)
And taped to the top of the box is an offer, not a contract
“Hello Prefect,
I know you are probably apprehensive about accepting a gift from me, rightfully so, but I have already come up with a perfect payment.
Perhaps you would be interested in work at the Mostro Lounge? I promise you would be paid fairly for your work. No tricks or fine print. And you would be provided three meals a day. Though anything Grim eats will have to be paid for, I’m not running a charity.
Do consider my offer, Azul Ashengrotto. Housewarden of Octavinelle.”
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Idia Shroud ♡
I don't think he could eat a balanced meal to save his life…
Let alone make one
So, he just orders you food from a well-known restaurant
Doesn’t hold back either, you’re getting the good food
And a little treat, because what’s a meal without a treat?
He’s too scared to deliver it to you, seven forbid he goes and stutters over his words
Or trips and spills all the food
He could spend hours spiraling about all that could go wrong
So, he has Ortho bring it to you, since he sits with you at lunch anyways
He goes back and forth about texting you, letting you know you can rely on him. But would you think that’s cringe? What if you blocked him?!
Before he could let the thoughts consume him, he steeled his nerves and texted you, something simple.
“Hey, lmk if you need me to spot you lunch again
I don’t mind lol”
Leona kingscholar ♡
Jack had heard from Deuce, who had heard from Epel, who had heard from Rook. And Rook had heard from eavesdropping on Ace and your conversation
Once Leona heard he called Ruggie
Told him to pick up some groceries and make you a lunch
He told Ruggie to spare no expense, make sure it would keep you full
So Ruggie got to it! And to no one’s surprise he snuck some of the scraps for himself
Though since Leona was paying him to do this, he made sure it was pretty, he had looked up some pictures to go off of
After getting Leona’s approval, Ruggie brought it to you after class
Leona didn’t feel the need to do some so cheesy as to write you a note
Instead, he had instructed Ruggie to tell you what he wanted you to know
“Oi, Leona got this for ya, it’s your lunch. Oh, and he wanted me to tell you to stop by Savanaclaw after school. He ordered a bunch of meal prep’n stuff for you.”
Kalim Al-Asim ♡
Oh no! Fear not! Kalim is here to make sure you get the food you need!
He has Jamil prepare a feast! (poor Jamil)
In fact, you should invite your friends! And of course, Grim is welcome too!
And maybe he should put up some decorations and play some music!
And before you know it, he has a full-on party for you
The food is amazing, so flavorful, and some variety!
Jamil and Kalim load you up with leftovers, you probably wouldn’t be able to eat it all without Grims's help
“Wasn’t that just a blast! Let me know if you want to come over for lunch again, I’m sure Jamil wouldn’t mind cooking for you too!”
The open session was already loud before training had even properly begun.
It had that strange, bright feeling open sessions always had, half football and half carnival, with the morning sun spilling over the training pitch and turning the metal barriers hot beneath the hands of the fans who had managed to get close enough to lean over them. The small stand beside the pitch was packed.
Children sat on parents' shoulders. Teenagers in Barça shirts tried to look calm and failed every time a player turned in their direction. Mothers held phones at careful angles. Fathers pretended they were filming for their children and then zoomed in on rondos with the concentration of scouts. Somewhere near the front, a baby in an Alexia shirt was chewing the collar like it was part of the club's nutritional programme.
Jay loved all of it.
She would never admit that too easily, because admitting softness was dangerous when people like Lucy and Mapi existed in the world, but it was written all over her anyway. It showed in the way she slowed near the barrier instead of jogging straight past. It showed in the grin she tried to bite back when a little boy shouted her name so loudly his own father flinched. It showed in the way she lifted two fingers in a casual salute to a group of girls holding a sign that said JAY PLEASE SCORE AND ALSO PLEASE SIGN MY SHIRT, which was demanding but polite enough to make her laugh.
She wore her training kit like she wore everything, with a kind of careless confidence that made it look more deliberate than it probably was. Sleeveless top, shorts, socks pulled high, tattoos bright against her skin, sunglasses pushed up into her hair despite the fact that she was about to train and absolutely did not need them. Her blonde hair was tied back badly, loose pieces already escaping around her face. She had a bottle tucked under one arm, a roll of tape in one hand, and the air of someone who had left something important somewhere but had not yet remembered what.
Alexia was beside her, walking with that calm, contained purpose she had even when nothing important was happening. Captain even on grass. Captain even holding a water bottle. Captain even when she was pretending not to smile because Jay had slowed down again.
"Jay," Alexia said.
Jay looked over. "Yes, my love?"
Alexia's mouth twitched. "We are training."
"I know."
"You are walking towards fans."
"I am walking in a fan adjacent direction."
"You are supposed to warm up."
Jay glanced at the barrier, where three children immediately started waving like small windmills when they realised she was looking. Her face softened before she could stop it. "They're excited."
"They will be excited after training also."
"What if they leave?"
"They will not leave amor.”
"What if one of them needs emotional support now?"
Alexia stopped walking and turned to face her properly. Her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, her expression patient in that specific way that always made Jay feel both loved and managed. "Amor."
Jay straightened at the tone. "Yes?"
"Warm up."
Jay's shoulders dropped. "That was captain voice."
"Sí."
"You can't captain voice me in front of children."
"I can captain voice you anywhere."
"That's actually the problem."
Alexia looked at her for a second, saw the grin fighting its way onto Jay's face, and stepped closer. Her hand landed at Jay's waist, warm and familiar through the thin training shirt, and Jay's entire body settled beneath the touch before she had even decided to let it. Alexia leaned in just enough that her voice lowered for Jay alone.
"Be good, guapa."
Jay blinked.
The children at the barrier had gone suspiciously quiet, because even children understood when they were witnessing something worth reporting later.
Jay swallowed, looked at Alexia's mouth, then back at her eyes. "That was worse."
Alexia smiled. "Good."
"Manipulative."
"Effective."
"Horribly."
Alexia patted her side once, affectionately, then turned away towards the warm up area. "Come."
Jay followed immediately.
From the barrier, someone shouted, "Jay listens to Alexia!"
Jay pointed at the crowd without looking back. "I heard that."
Alexia laughed under her breath.
The session itself started with enough professionalism to make Jay briefly forget the crowd. Briefly. There was stretching, mobility, activation, rondos, passing patterns. The coaches moved them through the work quickly, aware of the audience but not softened by it. Open session or not, training was training. Bad touches were still bad touches. Late movement was still late movement. Jonatan still folded his arms in the way that meant someone was about to receive a tactical correction delivered like a weather warning.
Jay was good.
Mostly.
She pressed hard, finished well, made one ridiculous little flick that got a cheer from the stand and immediately pretended she had not done it for applause. She did, however, glance at the fans afterwards, which made Alexia shake her head from across the grid.
Jay grinned.
Alexia pointed two fingers at her own eyes, then towards the ball.
Jay placed one hand over her heart as if wounded by tyranny.
Alexia rolled her eyes.
The crowd loved that.
Every time Jay touched the ball, there was a ripple of noise. Not the same as match noise, not that rolling beast of stadium sound, but smaller and sharper, excited because everything was close enough to feel personal. When Jay scored in a small sided drill, a group of kids screamed like she had scored a World Cup winner. Jay threw both arms out in a theatrical celebration, jogging backwards with a grin, and Alexia immediately gave her the look.
The look said: It is a training drill.
Jay's grin said: And yet, joy exists.
The drill restarted. Jay behaved for exactly thirty seconds.
By the time the session ended, the sun was higher and the noise around the barrier had sharpened into that hopeful chaos that always came when fans realised the players might come over. Staff moved into position. The team gathered near the touchline, stretching and drinking water, some already looking towards the tunnel, others towards the barrier.
Alexia came to Jay first.
She had been called inside almost immediately, a media staff member hovering near the edge of the pitch with a clipboard and an apologetic expression. Captain obligations. There was always something. A short interview. A photo. A message for club channels. Alexia had become very good at accepting these interruptions without looking irritated, but Jay could tell. She could always tell. The tiny tightening around the mouth. The moment of stillness before she shifted into public captain mode.
Jay looked at the staff member, then at Alexia. "They're stealing you."
Alexia lifted her brows. "Stealing?"
“Yes."
"For ten minutes."
"Kidnapping can be brief."
Alexia's face softened despite herself. She stepped closer and took the front of Jay's training top lightly between two fingers, tugging her in until Jay leaned down by instinct. Alexia kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, quick enough to be acceptable in public and slow enough to make Jay forget where her water bottle was.
"Sign for the fans," Alexia murmured. "I come back after."
Jay's eyes stayed on her. "Promise?"
Alexia's expression warmed. "Sí, bebé."
"Don't say bebé and then leave. That's cruel."
Alexia smiled. "Behave."
"I'll do my best."
"No. Do better than your best."
"My best is already elite."
"Your best got you banned from handling the coffee machine."
"That machine had attitude."
Alexia laughed softly, touched Jay's jaw once with her thumb, then finally stepped away. Jay watched her go with the shameless focus of someone who did not care that several hundred people and at least one media camera could see her. Alexia glanced back near the tunnel and caught her staring. Instead of looking embarrassed, Jay lifted both hands as if to say, What do you expect me to do? You look like that.
Alexia's smile flickered.
Then she disappeared inside.
Jay sighed dramatically.
Lucy, passing behind her, muttered, "You'll survive ten minutes."
Jay did not look away from the tunnel. "You don't know that."
"You're pathetic."
"Loved, though."
"Unfortunately."
Jay turned towards the barrier then, mood brightening as the fans called her name. This part came easily to her. The noise. The jokes. The bright faces and reaching hands. She moved down the barrier slowly, taking her time even when staff began gently reminding people to be patient. She signed a shirt for a girl who told her she wanted to be a striker. She asked the girl what kind of striker, and when the girl said, "A fast one who scares people," Jay nodded solemnly and said, "Good. Fear is part of the toolkit."
The girl's mother looked mildly alarmed.
Jay added, "And teamwork. Obviously."
She signed a programme for a boy who stared at her tattoos with wide eyed fascination.
"Did they hurt?" he asked.
"Some of them."
"Did you cry?"
Jay considered lying, then shook her head. "Only spiritually."
The boy looked impressed.
A teenager handed her a phone for a selfie and said, voice shaking, "You're my favourite player."
Jay's face softened so quickly it almost hurt. "Yeah?"
The teenager nodded, embarrassed now.
Jay leaned into the photo, then handed the phone back carefully. "Thank you. That means a lot, genuinely."
She meant it. That was the thing. Jay could be loud, funny, dramatic, ridiculous, all sharp grin and quick mouth, but moments like that never slid off her. They went in. They landed somewhere deep. Every time someone told her she mattered to them, her expression did this tiny, almost unguarded thing, as if some part of her still found it surprising that people chose her.
She was still smiling about it when she saw the steward.
The steward was not new. Jay had seen her at open sessions before, though she did not know her name. A compact woman with greying dark hair, a high vis vest, sensible shoes, and the sort of face that suggested she could calm a crowd, stop a fight, and locate a missing child within ninety seconds. She moved along the barrier with efficient authority, speaking quickly in Catalan to families, pointing towards exits, reminding people not to push forward.
In one hand, she held several woven bracelets.
They were bright.
Red and blue thread, with little yellow beads.
Jay saw them from three metres away and stopped mid signature.
Her brain made the leap instantly.
Handmade bracelets.
Club colours.
At an open session.
In a steward's hand near the fan barrier.
Obviously, someone had made them for players.
Obviously, one of them might be for her.
It was not even vanity, not really. It was hope. That was worse, because hope made her face soften before she had any proof at all. She had been given bracelets before. Children loved making them. Fans tied letters into colours and colours into meaning, and Jay, who had spent a lot of her childhood not receiving things made carefully and specifically for her, still did not know how to hold that kind of kindness without looking like she might need a minute.
The steward moved closer.
Jay looked at the bracelets.
Then at the steward.
Then, because she was Jay and because she had never met a situation she could not accidentally worsen with enthusiasm, she tapped her own chest.
"For me?" she asked.
The steward stopped.
This was the moment the entire disaster was born.
The steward did not speak English.
Not enough to understand Jay properly, anyway. She understood names, instructions, basic phrases. She knew Jay was a player. She knew fans liked her. She knew Jay smiled a lot and said thank you in an accent that made Catalan children giggle. But the words "for me" meant nothing precise to her.
What she saw was a famous player pointing at herself, looking at the bracelets, and asking something with bright, hopeful eyes.
And the steward, who was holding a small batch of child identification bracelets intended for the open session crowd, assumed Jay wanted one.
The bracelets were not fan gifts. They were safety bands. For children. They had simple Catalan phrases on them so stewards could identify and assist kids who became separated from their parents in the crowd. Some said small things like with my family or help me find my adult. This one, red and blue because everything at Barça events ended up red and blue if nobody stopped it, said: NENA PERDUDA.
Lost girl.
Lost child.
The steward had no reason to think Jay believed it was handmade by a fan. She simply saw a tall, tattooed, very muscular England international apparently asking for one of the lost child bracelets with the sincerity of someone requesting a Champions League medal.
Maybe, the steward thought, this was some player joke.
Maybe the English player liked souvenirs.
Maybe footballers were stranger than she had been led to believe.
So she shrugged, smiled, and handed one over.
"Sí, sí," the steward said, because if the famous striker wanted a child safety bracelet, who was she to deny her?
Jay took it like it was sacred.
"Oh," she said, voice dropping. "Wow. Thank you. Thank you so much."
The steward nodded pleasantly.
Jay looked down at the bracelet in her palm. The weave was simple but neat. The beads were small and painted by machine rather than hand, though Jay did not notice that because her eyes were already suspiciously bright. The letters looked delicate to her. Meaningful. Catalan always looked meaningful when Jay could not read it.
NENA PERDUDA.
She smiled.
The steward watched her, a little confused but pleased enough.
Jay pointed gently at the bracelet, then towards the fans, then made a vague, helpless gesture that she hoped meant did a fan make this for me because I will treasure it forever?
The steward, seeing only the pointing towards the crowd and assuming Jay was asking if the bracelet was for people in the stands, nodded again.
"Sí, nens," she said, gesturing towards the children.
Jay heard none of the meaning.
She heard the yes.
She saw the gesture to the children.
Her heart cracked open.
"Oh my God," Jay whispered. "A kid made it?"
The steward smiled uncertainly.
Jay turned towards the barrier, lifting the bracelet in both hands. "Whoever made this, thank you. Seriously. It's beautiful."
A few fans cheered because Jay sounded emotional and fans did not need full context to support an emotional Jay.
The steward's eyebrows twitched.
She looked at the bracelet.
Then at Jay.
Then at the cheering fans.
Then, being a practical woman with many things to do and no English with which to untangle whatever was happening, she simply moved on.
Jay remained where she was, staring at the bracelet as if it had chosen her.
A little girl at the barrier leaned forward. "Jay, are you okay?"
Jay blinked quickly. "Yes."
"You look like you might cry."
"I'm not going to cry."
"You are."
"I'm sweating from my eyes."
"That is crying."
"Not medically."
The girl giggled.
Jay held out the bracelet. "Can you tie this for me?"
The girl looked delighted. "Me?"
"Please. I'm emotionally compromised and bad at knots."
The girl's mother helped her reach over the barrier. The little girl tied the bracelet around Jay's wrist with intense concentration, tongue caught between her teeth. Jay held perfectly still, as if one wrong movement might ruin the entire ceremony.
"There," the girl said.
Jay lifted her wrist.
The bracelet sat bright against her skin, just above the start of the tattoos on her forearm. It looked absurdly small on her. Sweet. Slightly crooked. Jay loved it immediately.
"That's perfect," she said.
The little girl beamed.
"What does it say?" Jay asked her.
The girl looked at the beads.
Jay waited.
The girl frowned a little.
Before she could answer, someone behind her called her name, and her mother gently tugged her back to make room for another fan. The moment dissolved into the noise of the barrier, a shirt being pushed forward, someone calling for a photo, staff reminding the crowd to move slowly.
Jay forgot the question instantly.
It was her greatest gift and her downfall.
She continued along the barrier wearing NENA PERDUDA proudly on her wrist.
By the time she went inside, the bracelet had already become a story.
She was not simply wearing a bracelet. She was carrying a gesture. A sign of being loved by fans. A little woven reminder that someone had thought of her after watching her train. She had built the whole thing in her head with the speed and intensity of someone who wanted it to be true.
And because Jay wanted it to be true, it became true to her.
The first person inside to see it was Cata, who was sitting on a bench outside the changing rooms, scrolling on her phone with one trainer off.
Jay stopped in front of her and lifted her wrist.
Cata looked up. "What?"
"Bracelet."
Cata looked at it. "Nice."
"Fan made it."
Cata smiled. "Cute."
"I know."
"What does it say?"
Jay paused.
Only slightly.
"Catalan."
Cata waited.
Jay held her gaze.
Cata's eyes narrowed. "Jay."
"What?"
"You do not know what it says."
"I know what it means emotionally."
"That is not translation."
"It is advanced translation."
Cata leaned forward to read it, but Jay pulled her wrist back.
"No suspicious reading."
"I am Catalan."
"Exactly. Too powerful."
Cata laughed. "Ask Alexia."
"I will."
"Before you wear it everywhere?"
Jay looked offended. "I'm obviously wearing it everywhere."
"You do not know what it says."
"It came from a child."
"Did it?"
"A steward gave it to me from the barrier."
"That does not mean child made it."
Jay stared at her.
Cata stared back.
Jay decided she did not like the direction of this conversation and left.
"Negative energy," she called over her shoulder.
Cata laughed behind her. "Translate the bracelet!"
"I will!"
She did not.
Because Alexia reappeared at the end of the corridor just then, and Jay's entire attention shifted so violently it was almost embarrassing.
Alexia had finished her media obligation. Her hair had been redone neatly, a few pieces tucked behind her ears. She looked tired but composed, still carrying that captain energy that made staff move out of her way without being asked. When she saw Jay, her expression changed. Not dramatically. Alexia was rarely dramatic in public. But her eyes softened. Her mouth curved. Her shoulders seemed to loosen by a fraction.
Jay walked towards her without meaning to.
Alexia met her halfway.
"You stayed with the fans," Alexia said.
"Obviously."
"You look happy."
Jay lifted her wrist. "I got a fan gift."
Alexia glanced down, but Jay was too close and too proud and too bright, and Alexia was too distracted by how soft Jay looked about it to properly read the beads.
"A bracelet," Alexia said.
"Handmade."
"That is very sweet, amor."
Jay beamed.
Alexia took Jay's wrist and lifted it carefully. Her thumb brushed over the red and blue threads, then over Jay's skin. Jay watched her touch it with an expression so open that Alexia's face warmed.
"You like it very much," Alexia said.
Jay shrugged, trying to pretend it had not rearranged her entire morning. "It's nice."
Alexia smiled. "You are doing the voice."
"What voice?"
"The voice where you pretend something is small but actually it is big inside."
Jay's throat tightened a little.
Alexia noticed immediately. Her hand slipped from Jay's wrist to her palm, fingers threading through Jay's. "Come here."
Jay went.
Alexia stepped into her space and wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her in with such easy affection that Jay's whole body softened against her. They were still in the corridor. Staff were moving around them. A couple of players passed by. It did not matter. Alexia kissed Jay's cheek, then her other cheek, then rested her forehead briefly against Jay's temple.
"My soft girl," Alexia murmured.
Jay huffed. "I am extremely tough."
"Sí. And soft."
"Muscular soft."
"Very muscular soft."
"That's better."
Alexia laughed and kissed her once more near the corner of her mouth. "What does the bracelet say?"
Jay blinked.
The question landed.
Then, from behind them, someone called, "Alexia, one more signature for the board?"
Alexia turned slightly.
Jay seized the interruption like a drowning woman grabbing driftwood. "We'll do translation later."
Alexia looked back at her, amused. "Translation later?"
"Language deserves intimacy."
Alexia's eyebrows lifted.
Jay realised what she had said.
"I mean focus."
Alexia laughed softly. "You are avoiding."
"I am preserving surprise."
"Do you know what it says?"
Jay smiled.
Alexia's eyes narrowed.
Jay kissed her quickly.
Alexia let her, because she was weak where Jay's mouth was concerned and they both knew it.
By the time the kiss ended, the translation had been forgotten again.
Or delayed.
Which, with Jay, was often the same thing.
For three days, Jay wore the bracelet everywhere.
She wore it with a devotion usually reserved for wedding rings, religious medals, and lucky socks. She wore it to training the next morning and held it up before the session so several players could see it.
"Fan made it," she told Patri.
Patri looked down. "Cute."
"Very cute."
"What does it say?"
"Catalan."
Patri stared.
Jay stared back.
Patri nodded slowly. "You still do not know."
"I like to live with mystery."
"You like to avoid consequences."
"That too."
She wore it during gym work, where she kept rotating her wrist between sets to make sure the bracelet was sitting properly. The strength coach asked if it was bothering her grip. Jay said no, it was enhancing her spiritually. The strength coach looked at her for a very long second and then wrote something down on his clipboard that Jay suspected was not complimentary.
She wore it through lunch, where Pina leaned over to inspect it.
"It's pretty."
"Thank you."
"What does it say?"
Jay took a bite of pasta and spoke around it. "Something lovely."
Pina narrowed her eyes. "Who told you that?"
"My soul."
"That is not a reliable translator."
"My soul has excellent vibes."
Pina tried to read it upside down. "Nena... something?"
Jay covered the bracelet with her other hand. "No unauthorised translations."
"What if it says something weird?"
"It doesn't."
"How do you know?"
"Because a child made it."
"Did the child tell you that?"
Jay hesitated.
Pina gasped. "You invented the child."
"I did not invent the child. There were many children present."
"That is not the same."
Jay pointed her fork at her. "Eat your lunch."
Pina grinned. "Lost in translation."
Jay froze.
Pina did not notice what she had accidentally done.
Jay looked down at the bracelet for a second, mildly suspicious now, but the suspicion was soft and fleeting. The bracelet was too pretty. Too tied to the feeling of the open session, the noise, the little girl knotting it around her wrist, the imagined fan somewhere in the crowd watching and smiling.
It could not be bad.
It had been given kindly.
That was enough.
She wore it at home that night with Alexia.
They were on the sofa, Jay stretched out lengthways with her head in Alexia's lap, Alexia absent mindedly running fingers through her hair while reading something on her phone. The room was warm and dim. A half empty mug of tea sat on the coffee table. Jay had been very quiet for almost five minutes, which was unusual enough that Alexia looked down.
"You are thinking," Alexia said.
Jay hummed. "Dangerous."
"What about?"
Jay lifted her wrist from where it rested on her stomach. "Bracelet."
Alexia put her phone down.
Jay turned her arm so the threads caught the lamplight. "Do you think it suits me?"
Alexia's expression softened immediately. "Sí, guapa. Very much."
Jay smiled.
Alexia took Jay's wrist gently, bringing it closer. She still did not read the beads properly because she was looking more at Jay's face than the bracelet itself. That was Alexia's mistake. She saw the way Jay was watching her, hopeful and shy beneath the humour, and translation became secondary to tenderness.
"It makes you happy," Alexia said.
Jay looked away. "It's just nice."
"Mm."
"What?"
"You are doing it again."
"What?"
"Pretending small."
Jay was silent for a second.
Then she said, quietly, "Someone made something for me."
Alexia's fingers stilled around Jay's wrist.
There it was.
Not the joke. Not the bracelet. The thing under it.
Alexia bent over and kissed the inside of Jay's wrist, just above the threads. Jay's eyes closed.
"I know," Alexia said softly.
Jay swallowed. "That's all."
Alexia kissed her wrist again. "It is not small."
Jay opened her eyes and looked up at her.
Alexia's voice warmed. "You can love it. Even if it is just bracelet."
Jay smiled, helpless and fond. "You're very good at this."
"At what?"
"Making me feel less stupid about caring."
Alexia's eyes softened in that way that always made Jay regret speaking honestly and need more of it at the same time.
"You are not stupid, bebé."
Jay smiled a little. "Debatable."
Alexia leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Not debatable."
Then her mouth brushed Jay's, soft and upside down and awkward enough to make them both laugh into it. Jay reached up with her free hand to touch Alexia's face, fingers curling gently along her jaw, and Alexia kissed her again properly, one hand still wrapped around the braceleted wrist like she was holding both the joke and the tenderness together without knowing the punchline yet.
On the third day, the club posted a short clip from the open session.
Jay watched it in the locker room before training, leaning against her locker with one foot up on the bench, sunglasses on top of her head, bracelet visible as she scrolled. The video showed her at the barrier, signing shirts, laughing with fans, holding up the bracelet after receiving it. The caption said something harmless and sweet about connection with supporters.
Jay smiled.
Then she opened the comments.
The first few were exactly what she expected.
Jay is so sweet with fans.
The way she looked at the bracelet, I'm crying.
She deserves so much love.
Jay's face softened.
Then another comment: Any Catalan speakers know what the bracelet says?
Jay frowned.
Another comment: Wait, does that say nena perduda?
Another: Is Jay wearing a lost child bracelet?
Jay blinked.
Another: No because why is this so on brand
Jay's stomach dipped.
She looked down at her wrist.
NENA PERDUDA.
The letters were still there, innocent and bright.
A tiny prickle of suspicion finally managed to break through the emotional fog.
"Cata," Jay said slowly.
Cata looked up from tying her boots. "What?"
Jay lifted her wrist. "Can you translate something?"
Cata's face lit up with immediate delight. "Finally."
Jay pointed at her. "Don't say finally like that."
"You have worn it for three days."
"I was preserving mystery."
"You were avoiding reality."
"Translate."
Cata leaned closer.
The moment her eyes landed on the beads, her face changed.
Not much.
But enough.
Her lips pressed together.
Her eyes flicked up to Jay's face.
Then back down.
Jay's stomach sank further. "What?"
Cata made a small sound.
Jay stared. "Cata."
Cata covered her mouth.
"Oh no," Jay said.
Pina looked over. "What?"
"Nothing," Cata said quickly, but her voice was strangled.
Lucy, across the room, immediately stood. "What happened?"
Jay held her wrist protectively to her chest. "No one panic."
"You look panicked," Lucy said.
"I am calmly gathering information."
Cata's shoulders started shaking.
Jay's eyes widened. "What does it say?"
Cata tried to speak.
Failed.
Pina appeared beside her. "Let me see."
"No," Jay said.
Pina grabbed Jay's wrist gently anyway, peered down, and then made the most delighted sound Jay had ever heard.
"Oh my God."
Lucy arrived.
"No," Jay said again, with less authority.
Lucy looked.
Her mouth opened.
Then she laughed.
Not a small laugh. Not a polite laugh. A full, disbelieving burst that made half the locker room turn.
Jay closed her eyes. "I'm going home."
"It says lost child," Lucy wheezed.
The locker room went silent.
Then exploded.
Jay stood in the middle of it all with her wrist clutched to her chest, face slowly draining of all expression.
Pina was laughing so hard she had to sit down.
Cata folded over her own knees.
Patri slapped the bench.
Ona covered her mouth, eyes wide and sympathetic, but even she was shaking.
Jay looked at Lucy. "Say that again."
Lucy wiped one eye. "It says lost child."
Jay looked down at the bracelet.
NENA PERDUDA.
Lost child.
The beautiful, emotional fan gift.
The meaningful Catalan bracelet.
The sacred thread.
The thing she had worn for three days.
The thing she had lifted out of an ice bath.
The thing she had been filmed presenting to club media with the sincerity of a woman accepting a national honour.
It said lost child.
Jay stared into space.
"I told people a child made it," she said faintly.
Lucy bent over again.
"I told a journalist it was special because I play in Catalonia."
Pina made a noise like she had been kicked.
"I told a fan it probably meant something lovely."
Cata whispered, "It is lovely."
Jay turned to her slowly.
Cata held up both hands. "In a way."
Lucy choked. "In a legally missing way."
Jay pointed at her. "Do not."
Patri was almost crying. "You wore a child safety bracelet for three days."
Jay's head snapped up. "A what?"
Cata, still laughing, tried to explain. "Sometimes at open sessions or busy events, they have bracelets for children. If they are separated from parents, stewards can help. Nena perduda means lost girl or lost child."
Jay absorbed that.
Then absorbed it again.
Then looked down at the bracelet with profound betrayal.
"So the steward did not pass me a fan gift."
Lucy shook her head, barely holding herself together. "Probably not."
"She thought I wanted one."
Pina collapsed fully onto the bench.
Jay stared at the floor. "Because I pointed at myself."
Cata nodded, tears in her eyes. "Maybe."
"And she didn't speak English."
"Maybe not."
"So I, a twenty eight year old professional footballer, asked a steward for a lost child bracelet."
Lucy pressed a fist to her mouth.
"And then cried about it emotionally."
That was the end of the room.
Everyone lost whatever tiny bit of composure remained.
Jay stood there, publicly destroyed by Catalan safety infrastructure.
Alexia walked in at exactly the wrong time.
Or the right time, depending on perspective.
She entered with her boots in one hand and her water bottle in the other, hair still slightly damp from the shower, expression calm until she saw the state of the room. Half the team was laughing. Jay stood rigid in the middle, clutching her wrist like a scandalised Victorian widow. Lucy was crying. Pina was on the floor. Cata looked guilty and delighted.
Alexia stopped. "Qué pasa?"
The room tried and failed to quiet.
Jay turned towards her slowly.
Alexia's eyes immediately softened because Jay looked so genuinely wounded. She crossed the room without hesitation, setting her boots down on the bench as she went.
"Amor?" she asked.
Jay lifted her wrist.
Alexia looked at the bracelet.
Properly.
For the first time.
She read it.
NENA PERDUDA.
Alexia froze.
Jay saw the exact moment understanding arrived.
Alexia's face did not change at first. That was somehow worse. Her eyes moved from the bracelet to Jay's face, then back to the bracelet. Her lips parted slightly. Her hand came up to cover her mouth.
Jay narrowed her eyes. "Don't."
Alexia's shoulders moved.
"Do not."
Alexia turned away.
"Ale."
Alexia made a tiny sound.
The room was waiting.
Jay pointed at her. "You are my girlfriend. You are supposed to support me."
Alexia tried to inhale.
Failed.
Then she laughed.
It came out helpless and bright, the kind of laugh that broke through all her composure at once. She turned into Jay's shoulder, pressing her face there as if hiding would somehow make it less obvious, but her whole body was shaking. Jay stood with one arm slightly raised, expression flat with humiliation, while Alexia laughed into her training shirt.
"Great," Jay said. "Wonderful. My emotional support captain has fallen."
Alexia wrapped both arms around Jay's waist without lifting her face. "I am sorry."
"You are laughing on me."
"I know."
"You are physically using me as a laughing post."
Alexia laughed harder.
Jay looked at the ceiling. "I have been wearing lost child."
Alexia lifted her head just enough to look up at her, eyes wet with laughter. "Sí, bebé."
Jay's face pinched. "Don't bebé me. I am already apparently a child."
That destroyed Alexia again.
She bent forward, still holding Jay's waist, forehead pressed against Jay's chest now.
Lucy wheezed, "She called her bebé."
Jay pointed at Lucy. "No commentary from the English section."
Alexia finally managed to stand upright, though she kept one hand on Jay's waist as if she needed the contact to steady herself. Her cheeks were pink. Her eyes were shining. She looked younger when she laughed like that, softer, less captain and more woman in love with an idiot.
Jay tried very hard not to enjoy it.
Failed.
Alexia touched the bracelet with one finger. "You wore it for three days."
"Yes."
"And did not ask me again after we got interrupted."
"I was preserving mystery."
"You were preserving lost child label."
"Apparently."
Alexia bit her lip.
Jay pointed again. "Do not start."
Alexia swallowed the laugh with visible effort. "I am calm."
"You are absolutely not."
"No. I am very professional."
"You are pink."
"Because I am warm."
"You are warm because you have laughed off half your body weight."
Alexia smiled so widely Jay's annoyance faltered.
Then Alexia took Jay's wrist gently, lifted it, and kissed the bracelet.
The room softened for one dangerous second.
Jay looked down at her, caught off guard. "What are you doing?"
Alexia's thumb brushed Jay's wrist. "It made you happy."
"It says lost child."
"It still made you happy."
Jay swallowed.
Alexia looked up at her, warmth under the amusement. "And it is a little bit affectionate."
Jay's eyes narrowed again, though softer this time. "Is it?"
"For you?" Alexia smiled. "Sí."
The room groaned with laughter.
Jay closed her eyes. "There it is."
"My lost girl," Alexia murmured, leaning up to kiss her cheek.
"No."
"My nena perduda."
"It sounds romantic when you say it. That is unfair."
Alexia kissed the other cheek. "It is romantic."
"It means lost child."
"It means my lost child."
Jay froze.
Lucy made a gagging sound. "Oh, they've made it sweet. I hate them."
Pina sat up from the floor. "No, it is cute."
"It is not cute," Jay said, despite the fact that Alexia was now hugging her from the side and Jay had leaned into her automatically.
Ona smiled. "It is very cute."
Patri nodded. "Painfully cute."
Cata added, "But also very funny."
Jay pointed at her. "That is the correct balance."
The investigation happened later that day, because Jay could not let the matter rest without confronting the origins of her humiliation.
She found the steward near the barrier before the afternoon open segment began, Alexia beside her because Jay had insisted on having translation support and also because Alexia had refused to miss what she called "the legal clarification of the lost child matter."
The steward recognised Jay immediately and smiled, then saw the bracelet still on her wrist and brightened.
"Ah," she said, pointing. "Sí."
Jay lifted her wrist. "Hello. Bracelet."
The steward nodded.
Alexia, already smiling, spoke to the woman in Catalan. Jay understood none of it, but she watched their faces closely, trying to detect tone. The steward answered with an amused little shrug, gesturing first to the barrier, then to a small box near the gate where more bracelets sat. All the same colours. All the same kind of beads.
Jay stared at the box.
Her mouth slowly opened.
Alexia looked at her.
Then back at the steward.
Then pressed her lips together.
Jay said, "Those are all lost child bracelets, aren't they?"
Alexia translated before answering.
The steward nodded cheerfully.
Jay whispered, "Oh my God."
Alexia was shaking again.
"No," Jay said.
Alexia turned away slightly.
"No. Be strong."
Alexia covered her mouth.
The steward looked between them, confused but amused, then said something else. Alexia listened, nodded, and this time she lost the fight completely, laughing into her hand.
"What?" Jay demanded. "What did she say?"
Alexia inhaled and tried to compose herself. "She says she thought maybe you wanted one because you pointed to yourself and looked very excited."
Jay stared.
Alexia continued, voice trembling. "She says she did not understand English. She thought maybe you liked the colours."
Jay looked at the box.
Then at the steward.
Then at the bracelet.
"So I was not given a fan gift."
Alexia shook her head, barely containing laughter.
"I requested child identification."
Alexia nodded.
"With my full chest."
"Sí."
"And then thanked the crowd."
"Yes, amor."
Jay stared into the middle distance. "I need to lie down."
The steward spoke again.
Alexia translated, laughing softly now. "She says she is sorry if it was mistake, but it suits you."
Jay looked at the steward.
The steward smiled kindly and gave Jay a thumbs up.
Jay stared.
Then, slowly, she lifted her braceleted wrist and gave a solemn thumbs up back.
The steward laughed.
Jay turned to Alexia. "I have decided to keep it."
Alexia's eyes softened immediately. "Sí?"
"Yes. It's too late. We've bonded."
"With the lost child bracelet?"
"With my truth."
Alexia stepped closer and slid her arms around Jay's waist, pulling her close right there by the barrier. "Then you keep it, bebé."
Jay looked down at her. "You're going to call me lost child forever."
"Yes."
"That feels inevitable."
"It is."
Jay sighed. "Fine."
Alexia leaned up and kissed her, soft and warm and unbothered by the fact that the steward was politely pretending not to look. Jay's hands settled at Alexia's back, holding her there for a second longer than necessary because Alexia kissing her while laughing still made her feel embarrassingly loved.
When Alexia pulled back, she touched Jay's cheek. "My lost girl."
Jay groaned. "There it is."
Alexia smiled. "My beautiful, ridiculous, lost girl."
Jay narrowed her eyes. "You're making it hard to stay offended."
"Good."
"Manipulative."
"Effective."
"Horribly."
Jay should have taken it off.
She did not.
She wore it home.
She wore it while sitting on Alexia's kitchen counter that night, bare legs swinging, bracelet bright against her wrist, watching Alexia make tea. Alexia moved around the kitchen in sleep shorts and an old T shirt, hair loose over her shoulders, face soft with the ease of being at home. Every so often, she brushed past Jay and placed a kiss somewhere casual. Knee. Wrist. Cheek. Shoulder. Like Jay was something she checked by touch.
Jay let her.
She more than let her. She leaned into each one like a plant towards sunlight.
Alexia noticed, because Alexia always noticed.
"You are quiet," she said, standing between Jay's knees.
"I've had a big day."
"You discovered you are lost child."
Jay gave her a flat look. "Yes. Thank you for the recap."
Alexia smiled and set her mug down. "Are you embarrassed still?"
"Yes."
"Very?"
"Profoundly."
Alexia's hands settled on Jay's thighs. "But you kept it."
Jay looked down at the bracelet.
She twisted it gently around her wrist.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Jay shrugged, but the movement was softer than usual. "Because it's funny."
"Sí."
"And because the steward looked so happy when she saw I was still wearing it."
"Sí."
"And because..." Jay paused, mouth twisting like she hated the sincerity even as it came. "I don't know. It started wrong, but it still feels like something. Like everyone laughed, but not in a bad way."
Alexia's face softened.
Jay kept looking at the bracelet. "And you kissed it."
Alexia's thumbs stilled.
Jay glanced up. "So now it has value."
For a moment, Alexia did not say anything.
Then she stepped closer, slid one hand from Jay's thigh to her waist, and the other to Jay's cheek. Her expression had changed fully now, amusement giving way to something quiet and full.
"Amor," she murmured.
Jay smiled faintly. "What?"
"You make everything very easy to love."
Jay's throat tightened.
"That was a dangerous sentence."
Alexia leaned in, brushing their noses together. "It is true."
Jay swallowed. "Even when I accidentally ask for child safety bracelets?"
"Especially then."
"Because I'm pathetic?"
"Because you are you." Alexia kissed her once, softly. "You care. You get embarrassed. You make story in your head and then when story changes, you still find way to love it."
Jay blinked at her.
Alexia kissed her again. "That is very you."
Jay's hands found Alexia's waist. "You're being too nice. I don't know what to do with my face."
"Smile."
Jay did.
Alexia smiled back.
Then, because she could never resist for long, Alexia touched the bracelet and whispered, "My lost child."
Jay groaned immediately. "Moment ruined."
Alexia laughed against her mouth. "No. Enhanced."
"You're going to say it in bed, aren't you?"
Alexia's eyebrows lifted.
Jay pointed at her. "I saw your face. You thought about it."
Alexia stepped back slightly, trying to look innocent and failing spectacularly. "I did not."
"You did."
"Maybe."
"Ale."
Alexia leaned in again, voice dropping just enough to make Jay's brain lose grip. "Come here, nena perduda."
Jay froze.
Then pointed weakly at her. "See. That. That is exactly the issue."
Alexia smiled. "You came."
"I was summoned."
"I know."
"Unethical."
Alexia kissed her until Jay forgot the word unethical completely.
As someone with food allergies, and for someone who has family members with severe food allergies here is some etiquette in dealing with food allergies.
Although I will be saying food allergies a lot here, assume these same rules apply to all food restrictions such as sensory processing, religious exclusions, personal exclusions, food sensitivity, autoimmune responses, allergies, lactose intolerance, etc.
1. If someone asks for ingredients in certain food, drinks, or anything else they aren’t trying to be difficult they’re trying to gauge if they can eat something or not. Don’t try to ask “Are you allergic to? Are you celiac? Are you on a restricted diet?” A lot of the time that’s a sensitive topic, and if they’re brand new to meeting you they may not want to disclose that they have an allergy, or food restriction. If they ask for the ingredients please disclose it. And if you don’t know it, please ask your manager or check yourself. If you’re not willing to check then you’re more or less saying “I don’t care if you eat or not.” If you’re in the United States then good news the business you’re in is required to be able to offer a list of ingredients for items along with nutritional information on request. If your business doesn’t have it please make sure the manager or owner knows to get some ASAP, it’s good manners and a legal requirement.
2. If you invite someone over and if they don’t eat food offered, please don’t take it personally. Food allergies, restrictions, or even texture aversion can restrict what a person can eat it doesn’t mean that they’re trying to be rude. Feel free to ask if there’s anything you can get them. If they say yes you can accommodate but if you can’t for whatever reason just explain that you can’t. EG: if they ask for diet soda and you only have regular don’t try to serve the regular just explain you only have regular and they can say whether or not they can have it.
3. When inviting people to an intimate gathering (1-10) try to ask everyone what is something they like, or if there’s anything they can’t have. Some people even include a part of the RSVP to include restrictions and desired foods and they make the best of it. Larger events (10-100) may be more difficult, and in cases like this try to have options if possible. Water, coffee, tea, soda (diet and otherwise), fruit juice, are good options for drinks especially if people can get their own cups, or pre-packaged drinks. For food try to offer options like chips, nuts, bread, fruit, snack meats, cheeses, and make sure if they aren’t pre packed that every item has its own serving utensil (fork, spoon, tong) and that they are clearly separated to avoid cross contamination.
4. Use clean utensils, plates, cups when serving guests. Yes it seems obvious but you’ll be surprised. If you don’t have enough plates, cups, utensils try to get disposable. (I’m aware it isn’t the best for the environment but avoiding cross contamination is important) and as weird as it sounds verify that the plates and forks and cups aren’t derived from corn, soy, or other allergens. I actually had an allergic reaction once because the plate was made from corn and had trace amounts of the allergen in the paper.
5. Other common items that may have allergens you weren’t aware of. Birthday candles (especially the sparkler, or relighting kind use corn starch). Scented dish soaps, ice cube trays, (has anyone tried to make popsicles in it and forgot to clean it out?) the counter tops (especially if not clean), rags, (did you wipe wheat flour off with the rag before handling the potato flour), lipstick (if you kiss someone with an allergy to the metal, or possibly the corn starch in a lot of lipstick it will kill the mood), any make up on your face, even your shampoo or conditioner if it uses ingredients like oats, or sorghum. All of these are actual examples from my life. If it comes near someone’s lips, face, or hands be aware of it.
6. Prepackaged foods are a lot of people’s best friends for a reason. The ingredients, nutrition facts, are on the label and the packaging usually protects it from a lot (but not all) contamination. They’re almost always made the same way, and usually people know what their safe foods are.
7. Safe foods: Usually used in the autistic community but can absolutely also apply to people with allergies. These are the foods that are always safe, or even comforting to people. If I are close friends with someone and they’re often visiting or near you, you can keep some safe foods with you. My mother keeps lemonade packets at her house just for me, and I keep coffee at my house even though she doesn’t drink lemonade and I don’t drink coffee. Because they’re safe foods for each other.
8. TL;DR: answer peoples questions about ingredients and sources of food or anything near their mouths. If you get to know them better you can accommodate food restrictions better but let them explain it to you, don’t assume you know, and if you have a question, ask but don’t assume you know better than them. If you get to know them very well and become close friends start keeping some non perishable safe foods that you can share with them.
Summary: Your best friend is getting married. Naturally, you’re running late for your flight back home to good old Smallville, Kansas, and so is the handsome stranger who saves you.
AN: Here’s my second to last entry for @jacklesversebingo!
**Remember that Smallville was circa early 2000s, the time of flip phones, physical clocks, and paper airplane tickets. Also, this story is going to be AU in certain ways from the season 4 storyline with Jason. (You’ll see.)
Jacklesverse Bingo Prompt: Running late for the same flight.
Posted on Patreon: 3/24/3025
Song Inspo: “First Time” by Lifehouse – in true 2000s alt-rock fashion.
Word Count: 4.8K
Tags/Warnings: Meet cute, fluff and hijinks, hint of college woes, twist ending~
Despite all your meticulous plans, you still managed to be late to the airport.
But you’d been prepared, damn it! Packed to perfection as you made sure you had everything for your trip with all your luggage laid out and ready to go for your flight.
You even had a sandwich waiting on the kitchen counter, along with a thermos full of ice-cold water and an apple for extra nutrition and sustenance. You were so damn prepared that you got cocky.
Smiling and inwardly patting yourself on the back for a job well done, but also bone tired from said preparing, you decided to reward yourself with a quick nap. You fairly face-planted on your bed and released a sigh that you felt in every muscle of your body melting into the mattress.
Ten minutes. Twenty, tops. Then you’d wake up refreshed and ready to get a taxi over to JFK.
Three hours later, you woke up like the parents in Home Alone, bolting upright frazzled and confused. Then you checked the clock on your nightstand.
Oh, SHIT.
You scrambled out of bed and nearly twisted your ankle in the mess of blankets.
It was lucky for you that you lived in a city that never slept. Within ten minutes, the taxi you called pulled up to the curb outside your apartment building. You had your carry-on bag slung over your shoulder, basically resting on your back as you heaved your monumental suitcase down the concrete steps. Those last ten were easy, compared to the first few flights from your third-floor apartment unit.
Getting this thing back up there is gonna be a bitch when I come home, you realized, but that was a Future You problem. Present You had enough shit to deal with.
It wasn’t until you settled in the backseat of the taxi with a huff that you remembered what you forgot: your sandwich. Thermos. Apple. Health all gone out the window.
Perfect.
You’d lose your head if it wasn’t screwed on, came the thought that suspiciously sounded like your best friend. You didn’t think that was exactly fair though, considering she got into way more trouble than you on a frighteningly consistent basis—and way worse than nearly missing your flight back home.
You got to the John F. Kennedy International Airport at 11:30 at night for a flight that was supposed to leave at exactly 12:15 a.m. Yes, red-eyes suck, but it was the best you could afford that didn’t have any layovers. Living by yourself in Manhattan wasn’t easy, and not just financially. Somehow though, you were doing it.
You were proving your parents wrong, along with everyone who said smalltown girls couldn’t make it in big cities.
You stormed into the airport through a pair of heavy glass doors, lugging your purse and carry-on over one shoulder and the handle of your suitcase in hand. You were halfway to the line to get your ticket verified and your bag checked, when the weight you were dragging behind you suddenly felt much lighter. You stumbled in your ankle boots.
You looked down and realized you were holding a broken plastic handle in your hand. With wide eyes, you turned back and found your suitcase lying on the floor, a sad monstrosity on its side, now with two prongs of black metal poking out without a handle. The damn thing fucking broke.
“You gotta be shitting me!” you groaned as you struggled to pick up your suitcase by one of the now jagged beams coming out of it. “You can’t just give up, dude! You’re killin’ me here.”
To be fair, the suitcase was heavy as hell. You’d probably overpacked.
“Uh, you need some help?”
You looked up at the question, meeting a pair of green eyes and the handsome face of a young man. His short, blondish hair caught on the overhead lighting, brandishing the ends of it golden. He was dressed down in some dark wash jeans, a forest green shirt, and a sporty looking jacket. He looked preppy, like the jocks you used to avoid like the plague in college, but his concern seemed genuine. He held a green duffel bag casually strapped over his shoulder.
“Uh, thanks, I’m good,” you said, your face warming in embarrassment. With a valiant heave, you got your suitcase up on its little wheels and dragged it rolling behind you by one of the broken extended parts. You paused, looking down at your other hand where the severed handle lied. Shaking your head and not knowing what else to do with it, you tossed it into your purse.
Preppy Guy graciously let you get in line ahead of him. You nodded at him in thanks with a brief smile, not quite able to look him in the eyes through your embarrassment.
Another few minutes, and you made it to the front of the line. Iris read the name tag of the woman at the reception desk. She greeted you with a bland smile at best. You didn’t blame her. It was almost midnight, and your flight was set to take off in less than half an hour.
“I’m going to need your ticket and ID, hun,” she said.
“Of course.” You were already digging through your purse, nodding, but you stopped short. You found your wallet with your driver’s license, but where the hell was your ticket?
“Oh my God,” you uttered, more furiously digging through your purse. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”
When you still came up empty, you began rifling through your little duffle bag next.
“Miss,” Iris tried, but you held up a hand.
“Wait, I have a ticket. Coach, Seat B12, Gate 9. I know because I printed it off and put it in here just a few hours ago…”
You gasped when it dawned on you.
You’d switched purses, opting for your messenger bag that could hold more stuff. You sort of remembered a folded-up piece of paper getting tossed to the floor when you stuffed the smaller, cuter purse in your suitcase.
“I forgot it. I can’t believe it,” you breathed. “I forgot my ticket. Oh God, I can’t miss this flight! My best friend is getting married tomorrow. I’m the Maid of Honor!”
“Okay, miss, calm down. It’s…cutting it close, but we might still have a seat available on this flight,” said Iris. She checked her computer screen again after typing in something. Her brown eyes narrowed on the screen. “Okay, wow, we actually do have a couple of seats left.”
“Great! I’ll take it,” you said, shaking your head. You were going to be out an extra $200 at least.
“They’re in first class,” she said. Her eyes met yours, and your face fell.
“And how much is one of those?” you asked dryly. Her face remained unreadable, but considering your broken and frayed ten-year-old suitcase on the platform, you both knew the answer. Too damn much.
“That’s going to be $1,000 with the late booking fee,” she replied.
You gaped. “Excuse me? $1,000 for a three-hour flight?! What, are you gonna tattoo the seat number on my ass? Is the fake leather chair actually made out of gold?”
Iris inhaled a deep breath, like she was just barely holding herself back from rolling her eyes. You knew you were being that bitch right now, and part of you hated yourself for it. You just couldn’t help it. You loved your friend like your own sister, but there was no way you could justify forking over what little savings you had to cover this, even if you were staying with your parents to save money while you were in Smallville.
“Ah, excuse me,” a smooth voice interjected.
Once again, you found yourself staring into the eyes of a stranger—the same Preppy Guy from earlier. He was still behind you in line, but now closer, hovering a respectful distance to your left. He raised a hand that said, I come in peace.
“I couldn’t help but, um, overhear,” he said, making you frown. Your cheeks lit aflame with embarrassment, but before you could offer a sharp retort, he shocked you with an offer. “I’ve got like, a bunch of frequent flyer miles. I can help you out, use ‘em to get you a ticket.”
You shook your head. “Oh, no. Look, I can’t ask you to do that—”
“Well, good thing you’re not asking,” he said. He gave you a smile infused with boyish charm. “Really, it’s no trouble. Also considering I’m on the same flight, and it’s about to take off in…”
He checked the silver Rolex on his wrist. “About twenty minutes.”
Your frown dropped in shock. Fuck! You needed to get through security and to your gate before the plane took off without you.
You debated internally with yourself for a moment, chewing on your lower lip. Was this guy for real? Or was he just trying to hook you in, like a man who thought you’d owe him something extra just because he decided to buy you a drink at the bar. And this was a little bit more than a $10 cocktail.
Ultimately though, the man’s earnest demeanor and his kind green eyes won you over. You thanked him profusely while he paid for the ticket, and again afterward, when Iris handed it over to you. It may as well have been made of shining gold, like you were gaining admission into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.
“I’m Jason,” he said, and shook your adrenaline-trembling hand after you gave him your name in return. His smile could probably melt butter. If not, the cut of his jaw would slice right through it.
You held the ticket tightly in your hand, still somewhat in shock as you and your savior jogged together over to Security. You checked your big suitcase after he paid for the ticket, which left you with just your carry-on messenger bag.
“I still can’t believe you did that for me. Thank you,” you said, trying to regain your breath while you set down your things in a bin to get through the security checkpoint.
“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t kidding about those miles…mostly,” he said, while taking off his jacket, followed by his shoes. The man was tall, with broad shoulders to match despite his lithe frame. Your gaze couldn’t help but follow the movement of his muscles flexing under the thin shirt and jacket. He looked…athletic. Your instinct was probably right about the preppy jock thing.
“Sure,” you said, beginning to smile.
The two of you managed to make it without hassle through the security checkpoint. All you needed was your belongings to come through on the conveyor belt, like groceries you already owned.
“I’ve never flown first class,” you admitted.
He chuckled and glanced over at you. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, trust me. You know what is?”
“What?”
“Good company,” he said. A hint of flirtatious charm in his eyes made your insides flip with butterflies, despite your lips pursing.
“Ooh, buddy. What exactly do you think you’re getting out of this? I’m grateful, but I’m not that grateful,” you warned. You grabbed up your stuff from the bin and quickly put your sweater back on and your bag over your shoulder.
Jason faltered, his brows furrowing, but his smile won out. “Okay, not what I meant.”
His bin slid toward him, and he grabbed his jacket and other things quickly as well. You two had about ten minutes before the flight was set to take off. They were still boarding from what you could hear on the intercom.
“It’ll just be nice to have someone to talk to. I usually fly alone,” he said.
“Yeah, me too,” you said after a moment, offering him a smile. At the end of the day, he did just save you from disappointing your best friend and missing her wedding. His returning smile for you made your chest fill with warmth. You studied him while you hastened to the gate.
Okay, so he was attractive beyond belief. You also seemed to have been sucked into the first twenty minutes of a romcom, complete with a crazy, ridiculous, would-never-happen-in-real-life meet cute. Except that somehow, this was your real life.
But life isn’t a movie, you stubbornly reminded yourself. And you weren’t about to stick around if it took a turn from 50 First Dates to an episode of Law & Order.
Meaning, you still didn’t know if you believed Jason’s motives as a Good Samaritan just yet. So, you wouldn’t drop your guard. You tugged your sweater up higher on your neck, but you also found yourself discreetly checking your reflection on your tiny phone screen. Your clothes were a bit wrinkled and your hair was on the frizzy side, thanks to all the hustle just to get to this seat before takeoff. At least you’d managed to throw on some makeup before you scrambled out of the apartment.
Hopefully being first class meant you could actually relax on this flight.
“It better come with unlimited peanuts,” you said.
You couldn’t stop the flood of girlish giggles, and it was all Jason’s fault. While most of the plane was trying to sleep on the red-eye, your ex-college pro football companion was too busy telling you story after story of all the crazy stuff he’d had to do in freshman year to appease his buddies on the football team.
Like getting overripe fruit from the cafeteria and coating the floor of their coach’s office, so every time he entered, he’d have to squish on something just to get to his chair. (That one earned him an entire week of wind sprints.) Or your personal favorite: a mental image of Jason streaking through the quad wearing nothing but a plastic bowl filled with whipped cream, placed strategically in front of him. Very interesting when he stopped in front of the sorority house.
“So you were good, huh?” you said.
“Weeell,” he shrugged, smiling impishly.
Your lips curved. “What position did you play?”
“Quarterback,” he admitted. Your brows rose, and you whistled softly.
“Look at you,” you said. “Mr. Quarterback. Mr. ‘I’ve got sorority girls at my beck and call.’”
He laughed at your teasing, taking it in good stride.
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t quite like that. I, uh…I actually only played for about a year before I got hurt,” he said.
You sobered then. He was keeping it light, but you noticed the change in his demeanor, like there was genuine regret and old disappointment well-hidden behind his eyes. You asked the predictable question.
“What happened?”
A wry smile tugged at his lips, but he told you.
“Tore my rotator cuff,” he said. “NFL recruiters tend to frown on that sort of thing. Disappeared like bong smoke.”
So just like that, the future he thought he was building for himself was over. It made you think about all those “meatheads” you sort of used to make fun of back in college. It made you feel a bit guilty, and it gave you some new perspective, wondering how hard they were working, knowing they were putting their all into something that could potentially be taken away from them in a single game.
“What’re you doing now?” you asked. Already an hour into the flight, by now Jason Teague had told you he was from Metropolis. He even played for Metropolis University back then.
“Working for my father’s law firm,” he said, though he didn’t seem all that happy about it as he retrieved a bag of M&Ms he’d set on his fold-out tray. “I managed to fight off the law degree. Got one in business to compromise. He still thinks I should get some experience, learn from him, so I’m shadowing him, essentially.”
You frowned. “Shadowing him? For a career you clearly have no interest in?”
Jason sighed with a rueful, humorless kind of laugh.
“Yeah, trust me, I tried the whole rebellion thing. Didn’t really work well for me,” he said.
You were kind of sad for him, if you were honest. Daddy’s money could buy a lot of things, but it couldn’t buy you passion, or love for that matter. It sounded like his father was trying to control him with it.
Though you now felt less bad about Jason buying your ticket.
“Well, look, it’s not like I have my life figured out either,” you confessed. “My parents think I’m wasting my life and my money in New York.”
“Yeah, but you’re a musician. At least you get good tips,” he said, a bit of his flirtatious teasing returning as he popped a peanut M&M into his mouth. He offered you the bag, and you took a couple of M&Ms for yourself. You spoke around thoughtful chewing.
“Oh sure, I play in musty clubs and hope even one person’s paying attention while they get shitfaced at the bar,” you say, chuckling. “That’s exactly how I imagined my life when I got a degree in music composition.”
“From NYU,” Jason pointed out.
You inclined your head in acknowledgement. “Okay, yes, I got to go to one of the best schools in New York. I’m grateful for that. Honestly, I am. But they don’t tell you how hard it’s going to be to even get a job after college, let alone something you’re passionate about. God forbid you can make money doing something you love.”
Jason nodded in commiseration, stuffing his face with a few more M&Ms. You sipped at the cocktail he got you, despite your protests. He’d grinned and flashed his silvery company card before handing it to the flight attendant.
“I’m not giving up though,” you said, after a beat. “If something’s worth it, you hold onto it. That’s what my dad always told me…even if it bit him in the ass later when I said I wanted to leave Smallville.”
Jason chuckled, tipping his head back. He eyed you in amusement, and something else, like this was a moment he was trying to commit to memory.
“Smalltown girl, huh?” he remarked. “Livin’ in a lonely world.”
A smile threatened your lips. Now he was quoting Journey at you?
“City boy, huh?” you countered. “Born and raised in…Metropolis.” You laughed at your own lameness. “Blech. That doesn’t work, does it? Maybe I should’ve thought harder about that whole career as a songwriter thing.”
He joined you with some laughter of his own, and it was a rich sound that showed off his charming smile.
An hour later, the tremor and bouncing of turbulence startled you awake. Jason grasped your hand, since you’d grabbed his arm on reflex.
“It’s okay, we’re just landing,” he said.
You cleared your throat and paused, realizing that you’d been sleeping with your head resting on his shoulder. Your face was mere inches from his, your lips parting in surprise. He looked back at you softly, his gaze briefly lowering to your lips, and back to your eyes.
You leaned back while embarrassment began to make your face and neck flush.
“God, I’m so sorry,” you said bashfully.
Jason’s smile returned, lighting up his eyes now that the overhead lights had turned back on.
“It’s okay. The drool will probably come out of the jacket,” he replied.
You gasped and checked his jacket sleeve, but it was clean. You bit your lip against a smile and lightly smacked his arm in retaliation.
“You think you’re funny, huh?” you said.
“I think I’m adorable,” he replied, leveling you with a grin.
“Hmph.” You crossed your arms, but you couldn’t quite stamp down that smile.
Because he was damn right.
Even though he didn’t even check a bag, Jason hung out with you in baggage claim after the plane landed. When you two made it outside the airport, you each hailed a cab. He made sure to give you his cell phone number.
“If you ever have some time to grab dinner while you’re here, or hey, even just a cup of coffee, let me know,” he’d said, with a certain gleam in his eyes. “If not, we’ll always have First Class.”
His cheesiness made you laugh. You hadn’t taken him for a Casablanca kind of guy, but you liked that. Your heart was kind of hurting though. Your return flight was the morning after the wedding, and you highly doubted you’d have time for more than raiding the mini fridge in your hotel room, let alone another meet-up. Or a date…
Besides that, Jason told you that he didn’t live in New York. He’d just been there for a business he didn’t even like. Your life and your dreams were in New York. You weren’t likely to see this man ever again.
So before he turned to leave, heading toward the taxi parked at the curb, you found yourself rushing forward to stop him. You leaned up on your toes and pulled him into a hug, circling your arms around his neck while the wind nipped at you both in the early morning darkness.
“Thank you,” you whispered near his ear. “Thank you so much. You really don’t know what you did for me.”
Jason’s smile was warm when he finally released you. He tucked a wind-swept strand of hair behind your ear, letting his thumb brush your warming cheek.
“Can’t let you forget me, can I?” he said. “Hope you have fun at the wedding. Just be careful. You know, bridezillas and all the uh, hairspray.”
He mimed getting blasted in the face with a spray can, with an exaggerated grimace.
Your smile pulled at the corners. Like you’d ever forget the man who bought you a first-class plane ticket without even knowing you.
“Uh, yeah. I’ll remember that,” you laughed.
You turned to head back to your waiting taxi, but something made you turn back around. Jason did too, as if he was as reluctant as you were to end whatever this was.
“I forgot to ask. What’re you up to here in Metropolis? Coming home?” you called to him.
“Yes and no,” he called back with a shrug. “Mostly just attending to some business.”
You shook your head. “That’s not vague at all.”
Jason chuckled and gave you a wave.
“This isn’t goodbye. I’ll see you someday soon,” he said with a wink.
You shook your head, unable to temper your smile. What a flirt.
You laughed as you let him spin you again. The skirt of your bridesmaid’s dress billowed out in shades of lavender and violet. Jason drew you back into him smoothly with one hand curled in yours, and the other wrapping back around your waist. He pulled you flush against his chest, looking down at you with a subtle smile when you gasped lightly.
You stared up into his eyes shook your head. Someday soon, my ass.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were the Best Man?” you said, laughing incredulously.
Jason drew his plush lower lip between his teeth, and he dipped you. The move was sudden enough to get a squeal out of you, but he held you securely, bringing you back up with his usual charming (and slightly mischievous) grin.
“Now where’s the fun in that, sweetheart?” he replied.
You shook your head breathlessly. You caught sight of Lois and Clark passing by as they made their rounds, greeting guests. Jason spared a hand to slap Clark’s back in a brotherly gesture. The other man turned around with a bright smile, as did Lois. You blew her a kiss, becoming somewhat teary-eyed.
She was beautiful, and it had been too long since you’d seen her in person. Video chats just weren’t the same, but you were so grateful to be able to share this day with her. You’d been best friends with Lois since you were kids, fellow army brats who met in some dusty town in Arizona. When your father retired and settled back in Smallville, you became friends with Chloe, her cousin, but you and Lois never stopped writing, emailing, and later Instant Messaging and Skyping.
And while you were friendly with Clark, you'd never met his "mysterious" college friend from Metropolis...who apparently was an excellent dancer.
“I see you guys hit it off!” Lois called out across the dance floor, boldly teasing and not caring how many people heard her (including your parents).
You gave her an incredulous look, but she just laughed at you and went back to holding Clark’s arm. He looked at her like she was his sunny sky.
Your smile softened. You drew your attention back up to Jason’s face. He’d slowed things down to gentle swaying, now that the band was playing something softer, “Everything” by Lifehouse.
“You know, you look beautiful tonight,” he said. His gaze drew down your form in your dress, back up to your eyes. He cleaned up well himself in the charcoal black suit and gray tie.
“Thank you,” you said softly, a slight smile curving your lips. “Better than some old joggers and a ratty sweater.”
He smiled too. “Nah, it was a good look. Now I already know what it’s gonna be like when we’re five, six months in. Me in my sweatpants that have holes in all the wrong places, and you with that messy bun on your head, no makeup, potentially no underwear.”
You smacked his arm for that last bit, even though he was making you laugh already.
“Just chillin’ together on the couch with How I Met Your Mother playing on the TV, couple of beers, and one hot, pepperoni pizza,” he said. He squeezed your waist on the word hot.
You couldn’t prevent your sillier, giddier laugh from escaping. But then, reality just had to check in.
“I hate to roll the credits on your feel-good sitcom, but…I live in New York,” you said, even as the words tugged sharply at your heart. “I barely have the money to get back to Kansas once every six months, let alone for…”
Jason gave you a gentler look, if still with that mischievous gleam. “That business trip I had? It was to scope out locations for a New York branch of my father’s firm. He’s finally trusting me to handle the management side of things. Comes with a potential relocation…if that’s what I want.”
He gazed at you meaningfully. “I figure, maybe it gives us a chance to grab that cup of coffee. So I’m thinking…Monday morning, before your shift. I can take you to this little café I know in Little Italy.”
Your shock overtook you. But slowly, ever slowly, it faded away. You smiled. Your hands slid over his shoulders and up the back of his neck, your fingers carding through his dirty blonde hair at the nape of his neck. He guided you even closer to him, until you were sharing a breath. His lips became mere inches from yours.
“You sure know how to paint a picture,” you said, almost a whisper.
“Yeah?” Jason quirked his head slightly. “Let me try one more.”
He leaned in slow, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. Your breath caught, but you let him touch his lips to yours, soft and plush and warm.
You melted into his second kiss even faster than the first, tightening your fingers in his hair and tilting your head. It gave him a better angle to cup your cheek and deepen the kiss. He held you gently, but strong and secure at the same time.
You couldn’t see it, but his brows were furrowed. You didn’t know it, but Jason’s heart felt full, even though he’d just met you. Each new sweet kiss with you was like he was taking his first real breath in years.
For you, it felt like the first good thing you’d had in months, and yes, even years of struggle trying to build your career. His voice, his lips, his touch, it all was like heady wine, making proverbial tannins prickle under your skin, then dissolve warm and honeyed in your body.
Just then, you didn’t care who was watching or what music was playing.
Whatever this was, and whatever it could be, maybe it was worth holding onto for longer than tonight.
AN: I've been holding onto this little fic for quite a while, so it's so nice to finally share some more Jason with you guys! I would like to write more of him in the future. ❤️ In the first half of season 4, he just gives me such "Dean if he got to go to college" vibes. 🥰
In the meantime, let me know what you thought of this little adventure in AU Smallville!
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Well i had to refresh my med and milk kits for my car so I can help critters at a moments notice. But I thought it would be fun to share what I actually keep with me on the road!
I like to use a sewing kit box. Its wonderful for compartments and quick access. I like to make 2 kits, one for large creatures and one for baby rabbits, cottontails to be specific
Big sterile pads and disposable towels I keep on hand in case a creature is hit by a car and the situation is messy. The trunk of my car becomes a rapid first aid station and keeping these means I can flush out debris from wounds ASAP and it will be absorbed and I can discard it. Keeps the car clean
Vet wrap, a flea comb, and instant hot and cold packs. Head trauma animals appreciate a soothing cold patch indirectly (wrapped in a towel) applied to their bonked heads. You can see the relief.
Believe it or not sometimes pregnant rabbits are hit by cars and we can't save the mom but we can do a C section right then and there on the side of the road (as in, we stop for roadkill to check it, not that we hit the poor things) . The babies have to be on something warm ASAP. Every baby animal needs a supplemental heat source.
In the kit i have wound wash, SSD (INCREDIBLE ointment for deglovings and burns and just abt any wound. We can even use it in the eyes.), and a diabolical quantity of tegaderm, hypafix tape, and guaze.
Yes this is my med lineup and it's not even half of what I have at home. But I can administer these stat. Basically antibiotics and antibiotics, antiparasitics, and pain meds. And did i mention antibiotics? Not pictured are powdered pain meds ready for reconstitution at any time.
And I keep IV fluid always. Almost every beast needs sub cutaneous fluids by the time I find em so this and saline solution is always in my car
And now my milk kit! I keep a huge variety of milk replacers in my car to reconstitute ASAP if needed.
Here i have racoon and non domestic feline milk replacement. Its high fat (Like KMR) so I actually do use this in my recipe for cottontail formula. This mix is called Zoologic 42/25. Do NOT use it for domestic cats its not a good KMR sub.
My next is KMR, kitten milk replacement. The powdered kind, first step, is a go to for most cottontail rehabbers as it is very close to rabbit milk. Not perfect, but has a good success rate. I also have Zoologic 33/40 which is good for squirrels, possums, wolves, rodents, and they SAY rabbits but feeding zoologic 33/40 alone doesnt provide enough nutrients for development in cottontails. It will cause metabolic bone diseases. So it must be mixed with another formula. I have Wombaroo rabbit formula as well as their colostrum mix for neonates.
You might wonder: why have such a huge variety?
Sometimes critters get passed from rehabber to rehabber and they may prefer different formula mixes. I personally prefer to keep hand offs on the same formula they are used to because I want to minimize GI distress. I also assess my bunnies on a case by case basis. I mix formulas according to nutritional need. Anemic gets one kind, emaciated gets another, toddlers get another kind, etc. My experience told me one glove does not fit all. Only when I approached my cases this way did my success rate improve.
Now I pack my nips and feeding tubes! The tubes are used for possums mainly, since they do not suckle, you have to put a tube into their stomach its the only way to feed them! But I use the smaller tubes if I get an emaciated baby who is either reluctant to eat or is too weak to eat. Tubing rabbits is risky and not reccomended, but sometimes you genuinely have to. Do not ever do anything i do untrained this is just a show and tell.
The nips i use are made by The Original Bunny Nip. The founder is also my mentor! Shes brilliant and 25 years of studying mammary glands and flow rates lead to her business of specifically engineering nips that are NOT hollow but rather are built to mimic a real mammary glands flow rate and flow chambers at different stages of kit growth and the teat size. The size as ive lined up above shows different stages of bunny growth based on nip size which fits their mouth perfectly. (She has plenty of nips for other animals too!)
The last one there is a commercial nip, which works for big juveniles because they are horrid and chew the nips to bits but these are hollow with no flow control. I try to use them never lol.
Its so important to leave feeding to professionals because of this. It is SO easy to aspirate and choke a baby bunny. Feeding them is an extremely carefully done process and genuinely 8/10 when a finder feeds a baby bunny (quit doing that seriously.) They kill it. Even if they miraculously chose the right formula, they seldom get the amount, concentration, and actual physical feeding done right and it kills the kit and their organs slowly shut down in a very painful death.
Do NOT FEED WILDLIFE BABIES IF YOU ARE NOT TRAINED.
Feeding is a trained skill leave it to us please. Properly done, the kit will latch and snuck up the milk happily.
Thats all though! Quite a long post but fun and informative I hope
