A/N: Happy fall y’all! Still a little stuck on this story - trying to get where I’m at to where I want it to be is proving to be a royal jackass pain, I swear. But, here is another chapter and I hate to end it the way I did, but, oh well! Chapter 9 is in the works!
Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.
Part 8 –Fate is not the Answer, it is Merely the Key
“Welcome back, agent!” Marquetta’s voice rang across the lobby in welcome and as Pike ambled over to the welcome desk, he was awashed with the same sensation that he had the day before – a sense of coming home. For all the places he lived and worked in his career, nowhere had ever felt like this before. Strange.
“What can we do for you today?” The young woman’s voice cut through his thoughts and he felt a little chagrined to be caught daydreaming on the job. He straightened his shoulders and flashed a smile at her. It took everything in Marquetta to not swoon on the spot. Lord was he a handsome man.
“I’m sorry to come by unannounced, it’s becoming a bad habit. But I need a few things from Ms. Carter that I forgot to retrieve yesterday. Is she around?”
“She is, why don’t you go on up. She was in her office last time I called up and that was about, oh… ten minutes ago.”
“Thanks!” Marcus waved at her as he walked towards the stairs and he could feel the woman’s stare burning a hole through the seat of his pants and he couldn’t help but smile. She was not subtle at all and it did stoke his ego a bit, but all it did was amuse him rather than push him to ask her out like it would have in the past. Strange.
-*-
Rosemary never liked complete silence, something about it unnerved her and she became known for playing music wherever she was. The rest of the staff had gotten used to it, not blinking an eye if she was one day playing sea shanties while pulling items from the vaults for research or hearing AC/DC float out of her office while she pounded out grant narratives.
In the aftermath of the break-in, she chose to work in silence. It was a non-verbal way of blaming herself for what had happened - deep down she believed that if she hadn’t played music, she probably would have heard her attackers coming. Helen eventually said something in passing about the lack of music and within days, the director smiled to herself when the strains of Heart were heard coming from Rosemary’s office.
The swinging sounds of the Andrews Sisters filled the workroom as Rosemary worked on repairing the Austrian crystal damaged during the attack. Despite their destruction of the workroom, very few pieces had been outright damaged, with the crystal taking the brunt of it. She avoided the repair job over the last few weeks, not wanting to see such a visual reminder of her assault. But something Amy had mentioned in passing made her think that if she repaired the glass, then maybe something that had broken inside of her would be fixed, too.
Carefully, she wrapped a piece of painter’s tape to hold in place the piece she just glued, smoothing down the edges. As she sat back to view her handy work, a strong knock came at the door. Everything in Rosemary paused, blood suddenly roaring in her ears. She whipped around and her guest could see the barely disguised panic on her face.
Pike stopped immediately, raising his hands, and murmuring that it was just him. Not realizing she was breathing heavily, Rosemary continued to grip the workbench edge as the panic cascaded over her. The agent remained calm, using a low tone as he voiced his apologies while slowly stepping towards her. When she felt his warm palm on her shoulder and the other on her wrist, she finally took a deep breath and looked into his eyes.
How kind they are, she thought. And that feeling from yesterday – the one of safety – washed over her, leaving no room for the panic to grip her tight. Her body began to relax, and she started to breathe normally again. He could tell when she was coming back to him and he gently smiled and nodded. She let out a shaky breath and nodded back, forcing a small smile on her face. A small voice in her head said she should be embarrassed for reacting that way, but the sheer kindness and understanding she saw on his face shut out such negativity.
“Agent Pike! Back so soon?” She tried to add some lightness to her voice that she didn’t really feel. He bowed his head with a small smile, his hands still on her body while his thumbs rubbing small circles of comfort into her skin.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I really should have called ahead of time. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sighed and shook his head as he silently berated himself. He should have known better.
“No, don’t apologize, you didn’t know.” She tried to continue, but his hand gently tightened on her wrist and she stopped.
“I do. You’ve been through enough without me stirring up painful memories for you. Hurting you is the last thing I’d want to do.” They stared at each other for a beat before she nodded, and her smile finally reached her eyes.
“Okay. What can I help you with?” He smiled in relief.
“I wanted to get copies of your files on The Cornucopia so we could flesh out our case. Would that be possible?”
“Absolutely. Follow me.” Rosemary moved to get up and Pike moved back, already missing the heat of her skin under his palms. He clutched them into a quick fist before relaxing them as the pleasure of touching her skittered through his body. He hoped she didn’t notice as he turned to follow her, his long legs keeping perfect stride with hers as they walked towards her office.
“Question Agent Pike.” She slowed down and waved him into her office. He bowed his head as he walked past her. Banana sat up on the couch, his tail wagging quickly at the sight of his new friend and both laughed. Pike bent over to give the dog a friendly scratch behind the ears as he responded.
“Go ahead.”
“Since our records are now wrong, can I get a copy of the piece’s history so I can have the most updated version? I’d like for it to be as correct as possible.”
“Sure, I understand.”
“Great!” Rosemary smiled at him again as she walked around her desk to her filing cabinet, pulling open a drawer and shifting through the files. As she thumbed through them, Pike placed his briefcase on her desk, watching her out of the corner of his eye. While most of the panic had left, he could still see tenseness in her shoulders that wasn’t there before. He internally sighed, mad at himself for being so stupid.
When she withdrew the correct file, she began pulling off paperclips so it could be fed through the copier faster. When she looked towards him, she noticed the file in his hand, and she reached out to take it. Rosemary wasn’t expecting it to be so heavy and she bungled a bit before the file folder slipped from her hands and everything spilled out onto her desk. A high pitched ‘oh shit’ left her mouth before she realized it and immediately began to clean up the mess she made.
As she fumbled with the papers, Pike leaned to help her, feeling his ears grow warm with each brush of her fingers against his. He cleared his throat as he assembled the case report back in order, shuffling the papers to hide his attraction to her. She had been focused on cleaning up the case photos when she suddenly stopped, standing stock still.
The agent noted her change and realize the tenseness he observed before was still there, but it felt different as she stared intently at a photo in her hand. He dropped his head to try and look her in the eye when he asked her if anything was wrong. When she looked at him, his breath stuttered in chest – her eyes were sparkling in excitement, something he had yet to see from her and the sheer joy of that look rendered him mute.
“Agent Pike, does that report say anything about who rescued the statue in 1946?” Her voice seemed to vibrate with excitement, and he could feel it seep into his bones as he shook his head no. “Okay, do you believe in fate, the universe, coincidences? Any of that?”
“Sometimes, I suppose. Why do you ask?”
With glee, Rosemary flipped around the photo she had been looking at, a modern scan of a black and white image. The glossiness made it hard to see, but when she angled her wrist, he realized it was a photo of the Monument Men team that had recovered The Cornucopia and the other pieces stolen from the Luxembourg ducal family. But he was confused still, the feeling clearly etched on his face and she giggled. Actually giggled.
“My dear agent,” She pointed to a tall man with a hauntingly familiar smile on his face that stood out against his shorter, more sober-faced fellow soldiers. “meet George Carter, US Army Captain and an original member of the Monument Men team during the War. That’s my grandfather holding The Cornucopia.”
Pike’s eyes shot up to look at Rosemary and she laughed again. He turned to glance at her wall, realizing he had been looking at a picture of the same man yesterday. The photo was almost similar, except George stood next to a large painting. He wondered if they were from around the same time or if one was older than the other. He turned back to Rosemary.
“I don’t know what this means exactly, but it looks like when it comes to rescuing The Cornucopia, the Carters have this handled.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“Meaning that I firmly believe you’ll find the piece and bring it home. Wherever that may be.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
—***—
Three weeks later
The chill of the blustery November day was seeping into Rosemary’s bones and she shivered as she trudged up to the backdoor of the house. Her fingers fumbled with the key to unlock the house and when the door finally swung open, she stumbled backwards as Banana rushed through the house to his bed near the heat register in the living room.
“Thank you, my ever-loving companion!” She called out to the dog as she took off her coat and scarf. The Home was toasty, but the chill of the kitchen tile still crept though her socks as she toed off her shoes. Padding over to the fridge, she pulled out some milk for her favorite hot cocoa and before she could pull out the saucepan, her phone began to ring. Noting it was Fern’s ringtone, she immediately answered it.
“Hey Ferny Fern, what’s up?”
“I got great news! The probate cleared today!”
“What?! So soon?” Rosemary set the milk jug on the counter and began to dance through the kitchen in joy.
“I know, I wasn’t expecting to be so quick, but I was told everything was in such neat order that it was quote one of the easiest probates I’ve cleared unquote.”
“So, does this mean what I think it means?”
“It means you’re free and clear just to live your life and run your new business.” Fern’s smile was evident through the phone as much as Rosemary’s heavy breath from her celebratory dance party.
“Okay, I’m going to celebrate. What are you doing tonight?”
“Winston is back in town from that conference he went to, so we’re having dinner.”
“Sure, who’s on the menu first, you or him?” There was no hiding the cheeky grin in Rosemary’s voice as she poured milk into the saucepan and turned up the heat.
“Quiet.” Fern huffed over phone. “Lunch on Saturday instead?”
“Maybe dinner, let’s see what Amy and Tina think.”
The two women chatted a little longer before hanging up and Rosemary grinned at nothing as her milk began to heat up. What a weight off her shoulders.
—***—
“Rosemary!” Amy stood in the open foyer and smiled as her friend entered the First Bank of Saugatuck and quickly walked over to give her a hug. “Are you ready to do this?”
“Yeah.” Rosemary nodded, a small lump forming in her throat and she took a deep breath. Amy squeezed her hand and after a moment, she nodded to continue.
“Let’s go to my office and get you squared away. Do you have the paperwork?”
“Do you think Fern would let me leave the house to do any of this without it?”
“Fair enough.” The two women laughed as they sat down and for the next hour, Robert Lancaster ceased to exist on paper at the place he banked at for over twenty years. As they finished up, Rosemary snapped her fingers as a thought crossed her mind.
“I brought the safety deposit box keys, too. Can I get into those today?”
“Yep, let’s head over to the vault.” Rosemary handed over the keys as she followed Amy into the vault where she stopped to match the numbers in her hand with those in front of her. After a few beats, Amy found all three boxes, none in sequential order. After inserting the keys into the locks, she turned to her friend and smile.
“There you go. Hope he left you something good!” Amy kissed Rosemary on the cheek as she left to attend another meeting. Taking another deep breath, Rosemary turned to the boxes and opened the one closest to her. Pulling out the box, she set it on the table and lifted the lid, revealing an according file folder. Propping it upright, she peeked inside and saw what looked like documents and photos, piquing her interest.
She set the folder aside as she went to pull out drawer number two, which like the first one had been the biggest size Robert could get. As she opened it, she could hear rattling inside the box and her curiosity grew bigger. Lifting the lid gently, she found a box that had deteriorated with age and what looked like several religious artifacts strewn about inside. She gently lifted them out and laid them on the table, eyeing them carefully.
In the last box, smaller than the others, was a worn book, its leather binding split and faded ribbon tied around it. Stuck under the small length of cloth was a much newer envelope with her name on it and a wave of sadness washed through Rosemary when she recognized Robert’s distinctive block writing. Pulling it out, she held it against her chest and closed her eyes a moment. Letting the wave pass, she sat the item down with the others and put the boxes back into their homes.
She turned and looked at the table, knowing they were the key to Robert’s past – the one before Saugatuck. She pulled out a chair and sat down, gently removing the letter and opening it. She noted the date he wrote it was only a few days after his diagnosis. Taking a deep breath, she began to read with her eyes growing bigger as she skimmed each line.
My dear Rosie,
I’m sorry I’ve left you behind. I thought we would have had more years together but apparently the Lord has decided that wasn’t in His plans. I am already missing you terribly even though I know you’ll be with me to the end.
I made you my heir years ago, but while I had no qualms giving you the house, the store, and my earnings. I have not been able to give you the story of me, the real me. I am a coward for keeping it from you until after I die, but I feel this is the best way to protect you from my past so you can live your future.
These boxes, now yours, contain all that is left of who I was am - Anatoli Choryni. My life in the Ukrainian mafia seems more like a dream I keep struggling to remember. Since my early childhood, I knew nothing but mafiya life – starting as a little gofer for my dyad’ko who was a muscle man and growing into my role as hitman and later underboss.
I did an amazing number of bad things to people thinking I was making my neighborhood a better place, saving it from the encroachment of whatever group was our enemy at the time. Yet when I reached such an exalted status, I knew that I was becoming jaded with my work.
You cannot just leave the mob, however. Not when it had been your whole life like it had been for me. But, when I saw one of my underlings murder a woman in cold blood, I knew I could no longer stay. You want to kill a man who cheated you? Go ahead. You want to torture your Russian enemy? That’s fine. But you never, ever hurt women and children. Never. I made that clear to my men, to Bernard when he rose to power after his father died.
But the lifeless eyes of that woman haunted me, and I knew. I knew then, Rosie, that I had to flee. I planned it so meticulously – draining my accounts slowly, hoarding money in my bed like my babyusa used to do in the old days under Stalin. I hoarded my papers, my faith, the evidence of my crimes for months on end.
Then one day, I did it. I faked my death and fled. First north to Wisconsin and then east to Michigan before landing in New York City. There I hid for a full year before I went and legally changed my name. I left the city and took up as a clerk for a bookstore in some small town in Pennsylvania. I stayed there for two years and when it looked like I had no one on my tail, I came to Saugatuck.
I started the store and the rest is history. And by now, if you’re reading this, my probate has cleared, and you probably learned I was clean and easy. Everything is legal, I made sure of it for my own safety and then for you after you came into my life. And if the person reading this isn’t Rosie, then well, I’m not as smart as I’d like to think I am.
I was not a good man, I did terrible things, but I hope I eased the red in my life book some with all the good I did after I came to Michigan. I’ll find out when my last breath leaves me, but until then, I will spend my last months embracing our friendship. You have never left me before and I know you won’t leave me now.
And because of that I owed all of this to you. My life story.
Ya tebe lyublyu, Rosie.
Robert
“What the fuck…”
—***—
Translations:
mafiya - Mafia
dyad’ko - Uncle
babyusa - Grandmother
Ya tebe lyublyu - I love you
Reblogging the most recent chapter because I have nothing new to add yet. Life is super busy at work and I’m finishing up major responsibilities for a board I’ll be leaving soon, so not as much writing time as before.
I think I liked quarantine only because I got a lot of writing done.
A/N: Happy fall y’all! Still a little stuck on this story - trying to get where I’m at to where I want it to be is proving to be a royal jackass pain, I swear. But, here is another chapter and I hate to end it the way I did, but, oh well! Chapter 9 is in the works!
Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.
Part 8 –Fate is not the Answer, it is Merely the Key
“Welcome back, agent!” Marquetta’s voice rang across the lobby in welcome and as Pike ambled over to the welcome desk, he was awashed with the same sensation that he had the day before – a sense of coming home. For all the places he lived and worked in his career, nowhere had ever felt like this before. Strange.
“What can we do for you today?” The young woman’s voice cut through his thoughts and he felt a little chagrined to be caught daydreaming on the job. He straightened his shoulders and flashed a smile at her. It took everything in Marquetta to not swoon on the spot. Lord was he a handsome man.
“I’m sorry to come by unannounced, it’s becoming a bad habit. But I need a few things from Ms. Carter that I forgot to retrieve yesterday. Is she around?”
“She is, why don’t you go on up. She was in her office last time I called up and that was about, oh… ten minutes ago.”
“Thanks!” Marcus waved at her as he walked towards the stairs and he could feel the woman’s stare burning a hole through the seat of his pants and he couldn’t help but smile. She was not subtle at all and it did stoke his ego a bit, but all it did was amuse him rather than push him to ask her out like it would have in the past. Strange.
-*-
Rosemary never liked complete silence, something about it unnerved her and she became known for playing music wherever she was. The rest of the staff had gotten used to it, not blinking an eye if she was one day playing sea shanties while pulling items from the vaults for research or hearing AC/DC float out of her office while she pounded out grant narratives.
In the aftermath of the break-in, she chose to work in silence. It was a non-verbal way of blaming herself for what had happened - deep down she believed that if she hadn’t played music, she probably would have heard her attackers coming. Helen eventually said something in passing about the lack of music and within days, the director smiled to herself when the strains of Heart were heard coming from Rosemary’s office.
The swinging sounds of the Andrews Sisters filled the workroom as Rosemary worked on repairing the Austrian crystal damaged during the attack. Despite their destruction of the workroom, very few pieces had been outright damaged, with the crystal taking the brunt of it. She avoided the repair job over the last few weeks, not wanting to see such a visual reminder of her assault. But something Amy had mentioned in passing made her think that if she repaired the glass, then maybe something that had broken inside of her would be fixed, too.
Carefully, she wrapped a piece of painter’s tape to hold in place the piece she just glued, smoothing down the edges. As she sat back to view her handy work, a strong knock came at the door. Everything in Rosemary paused, blood suddenly roaring in her ears. She whipped around and her guest could see the barely disguised panic on her face.
Pike stopped immediately, raising his hands, and murmuring that it was just him. Not realizing she was breathing heavily, Rosemary continued to grip the workbench edge as the panic cascaded over her. The agent remained calm, using a low tone as he voiced his apologies while slowly stepping towards her. When she felt his warm palm on her shoulder and the other on her wrist, she finally took a deep breath and looked into his eyes.
How kind they are, she thought. And that feeling from yesterday – the one of safety – washed over her, leaving no room for the panic to grip her tight. Her body began to relax, and she started to breathe normally again. He could tell when she was coming back to him and he gently smiled and nodded. She let out a shaky breath and nodded back, forcing a small smile on her face. A small voice in her head said she should be embarrassed for reacting that way, but the sheer kindness and understanding she saw on his face shut out such negativity.
“Agent Pike! Back so soon?” She tried to add some lightness to her voice that she didn’t really feel. He bowed his head with a small smile, his hands still on her body while his thumbs rubbing small circles of comfort into her skin.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I really should have called ahead of time. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He sighed and shook his head as he silently berated himself. He should have known better.
“No, don’t apologize, you didn’t know.” She tried to continue, but his hand gently tightened on her wrist and she stopped.
“I do. You’ve been through enough without me stirring up painful memories for you. Hurting you is the last thing I’d want to do.” They stared at each other for a beat before she nodded, and her smile finally reached her eyes.
“Okay. What can I help you with?” He smiled in relief.
“I wanted to get copies of your files on The Cornucopia so we could flesh out our case. Would that be possible?”
“Absolutely. Follow me.” Rosemary moved to get up and Pike moved back, already missing the heat of her skin under his palms. He clutched them into a quick fist before relaxing them as the pleasure of touching her skittered through his body. He hoped she didn’t notice as he turned to follow her, his long legs keeping perfect stride with hers as they walked towards her office.
“Question Agent Pike.” She slowed down and waved him into her office. He bowed his head as he walked past her. Banana sat up on the couch, his tail wagging quickly at the sight of his new friend and both laughed. Pike bent over to give the dog a friendly scratch behind the ears as he responded.
“Go ahead.”
“Since our records are now wrong, can I get a copy of the piece’s history so I can have the most updated version? I’d like for it to be as correct as possible.”
“Sure, I understand.”
“Great!” Rosemary smiled at him again as she walked around her desk to her filing cabinet, pulling open a drawer and shifting through the files. As she thumbed through them, Pike placed his briefcase on her desk, watching her out of the corner of his eye. While most of the panic had left, he could still see tenseness in her shoulders that wasn’t there before. He internally sighed, mad at himself for being so stupid.
When she withdrew the correct file, she began pulling off paperclips so it could be fed through the copier faster. When she looked towards him, she noticed the file in his hand, and she reached out to take it. Rosemary wasn’t expecting it to be so heavy and she bungled a bit before the file folder slipped from her hands and everything spilled out onto her desk. A high pitched ‘oh shit’ left her mouth before she realized it and immediately began to clean up the mess she made.
As she fumbled with the papers, Pike leaned to help her, feeling his ears grow warm with each brush of her fingers against his. He cleared his throat as he assembled the case report back in order, shuffling the papers to hide his attraction to her. She had been focused on cleaning up the case photos when she suddenly stopped, standing stock still.
The agent noted her change and realize the tenseness he observed before was still there, but it felt different as she stared intently at a photo in her hand. He dropped his head to try and look her in the eye when he asked her if anything was wrong. When she looked at him, his breath stuttered in chest – her eyes were sparkling in excitement, something he had yet to see from her and the sheer joy of that look rendered him mute.
“Agent Pike, does that report say anything about who rescued the statue in 1946?” Her voice seemed to vibrate with excitement, and he could feel it seep into his bones as he shook his head no. “Okay, do you believe in fate, the universe, coincidences? Any of that?”
“Sometimes, I suppose. Why do you ask?”
With glee, Rosemary flipped around the photo she had been looking at, a modern scan of a black and white image. The glossiness made it hard to see, but when she angled her wrist, he realized it was a photo of the Monument Men team that had recovered The Cornucopia and the other pieces stolen from the Luxembourg ducal family. But he was confused still, the feeling clearly etched on his face and she giggled. Actually giggled.
“My dear agent,” She pointed to a tall man with a hauntingly familiar smile on his face that stood out against his shorter, more sober-faced fellow soldiers. “meet George Carter, US Army Captain and an original member of the Monument Men team during the War. That’s my grandfather holding The Cornucopia.”
Pike’s eyes shot up to look at Rosemary and she laughed again. He turned to glance at her wall, realizing he had been looking at a picture of the same man yesterday. The photo was almost similar, except George stood next to a large painting. He wondered if they were from around the same time or if one was older than the other. He turned back to Rosemary.
“I don’t know what this means exactly, but it looks like when it comes to rescuing The Cornucopia, the Carters have this handled.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“Meaning that I firmly believe you’ll find the piece and bring it home. Wherever that may be.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
—***—
Three weeks later
The chill of the blustery November day was seeping into Rosemary’s bones and she shivered as she trudged up to the backdoor of the house. Her fingers fumbled with the key to unlock the house and when the door finally swung open, she stumbled backwards as Banana rushed through the house to his bed near the heat register in the living room.
“Thank you, my ever-loving companion!” She called out to the dog as she took off her coat and scarf. The Home was toasty, but the chill of the kitchen tile still crept though her socks as she toed off her shoes. Padding over to the fridge, she pulled out some milk for her favorite hot cocoa and before she could pull out the saucepan, her phone began to ring. Noting it was Fern’s ringtone, she immediately answered it.
“Hey Ferny Fern, what’s up?”
“I got great news! The probate cleared today!”
“What?! So soon?” Rosemary set the milk jug on the counter and began to dance through the kitchen in joy.
“I know, I wasn’t expecting to be so quick, but I was told everything was in such neat order that it was quote one of the easiest probates I’ve cleared unquote.”
“So, does this mean what I think it means?”
“It means you’re free and clear just to live your life and run your new business.” Fern’s smile was evident through the phone as much as Rosemary’s heavy breath from her celebratory dance party.
“Okay, I’m going to celebrate. What are you doing tonight?”
“Winston is back in town from that conference he went to, so we’re having dinner.”
“Sure, who’s on the menu first, you or him?” There was no hiding the cheeky grin in Rosemary’s voice as she poured milk into the saucepan and turned up the heat.
“Quiet.” Fern huffed over phone. “Lunch on Saturday instead?”
“Maybe dinner, let’s see what Amy and Tina think.”
The two women chatted a little longer before hanging up and Rosemary grinned at nothing as her milk began to heat up. What a weight off her shoulders.
—***—
“Rosemary!” Amy stood in the open foyer and smiled as her friend entered the First Bank of Saugatuck and quickly walked over to give her a hug. “Are you ready to do this?”
“Yeah.” Rosemary nodded, a small lump forming in her throat and she took a deep breath. Amy squeezed her hand and after a moment, she nodded to continue.
“Let’s go to my office and get you squared away. Do you have the paperwork?”
“Do you think Fern would let me leave the house to do any of this without it?”
“Fair enough.” The two women laughed as they sat down and for the next hour, Robert Lancaster ceased to exist on paper at the place he banked at for over twenty years. As they finished up, Rosemary snapped her fingers as a thought crossed her mind.
“I brought the safety deposit box keys, too. Can I get into those today?”
“Yep, let’s head over to the vault.” Rosemary handed over the keys as she followed Amy into the vault where she stopped to match the numbers in her hand with those in front of her. After a few beats, Amy found all three boxes, none in sequential order. After inserting the keys into the locks, she turned to her friend and smile.
“There you go. Hope he left you something good!” Amy kissed Rosemary on the cheek as she left to attend another meeting. Taking another deep breath, Rosemary turned to the boxes and opened the one closest to her. Pulling out the box, she set it on the table and lifted the lid, revealing an according file folder. Propping it upright, she peeked inside and saw what looked like documents and photos, piquing her interest.
She set the folder aside as she went to pull out drawer number two, which like the first one had been the biggest size Robert could get. As she opened it, she could hear rattling inside the box and her curiosity grew bigger. Lifting the lid gently, she found a box that had deteriorated with age and what looked like several religious artifacts strewn about inside. She gently lifted them out and laid them on the table, eyeing them carefully.
In the last box, smaller than the others, was a worn book, its leather binding split and faded ribbon tied around it. Stuck under the small length of cloth was a much newer envelope with her name on it and a wave of sadness washed through Rosemary when she recognized Robert’s distinctive block writing. Pulling it out, she held it against her chest and closed her eyes a moment. Letting the wave pass, she sat the item down with the others and put the boxes back into their homes.
She turned and looked at the table, knowing they were the key to Robert’s past – the one before Saugatuck. She pulled out a chair and sat down, gently removing the letter and opening it. She noted the date he wrote it was only a few days after his diagnosis. Taking a deep breath, she began to read with her eyes growing bigger as she skimmed each line.
My dear Rosie,
I’m sorry I’ve left you behind. I thought we would have had more years together but apparently the Lord has decided that wasn’t in His plans. I am already missing you terribly even though I know you’ll be with me to the end.
I made you my heir years ago, but while I had no qualms giving you the house, the store, and my earnings. I have not been able to give you the story of me, the real me. I am a coward for keeping it from you until after I die, but I feel this is the best way to protect you from my past so you can live your future.
These boxes, now yours, contain all that is left of who I was am - Anatoli Choryni. My life in the Ukrainian mafia seems more like a dream I keep struggling to remember. Since my early childhood, I knew nothing but mafiya life – starting as a little gofer for my dyad’ko who was a muscle man and growing into my role as hitman and later underboss.
I did an amazing number of bad things to people thinking I was making my neighborhood a better place, saving it from the encroachment of whatever group was our enemy at the time. Yet when I reached such an exalted status, I knew that I was becoming jaded with my work.
You cannot just leave the mob, however. Not when it had been your whole life like it had been for me. But, when I saw one of my underlings murder a woman in cold blood, I knew I could no longer stay. You want to kill a man who cheated you? Go ahead. You want to torture your Russian enemy? That’s fine. But you never, ever hurt women and children. Never. I made that clear to my men, to Bernard when he rose to power after his father died.
But the lifeless eyes of that woman haunted me, and I knew. I knew then, Rosie, that I had to flee. I planned it so meticulously – draining my accounts slowly, hoarding money in my bed like my babyusa used to do in the old days under Stalin. I hoarded my papers, my faith, the evidence of my crimes for months on end.
Then one day, I did it. I faked my death and fled. First north to Wisconsin and then east to Michigan before landing in New York City. There I hid for a full year before I went and legally changed my name. I left the city and took up as a clerk for a bookstore in some small town in Pennsylvania. I stayed there for two years and when it looked like I had no one on my tail, I came to Saugatuck.
I started the store and the rest is history. And by now, if you’re reading this, my probate has cleared, and you probably learned I was clean and easy. Everything is legal, I made sure of it for my own safety and then for you after you came into my life. And if the person reading this isn’t Rosie, then well, I’m not as smart as I’d like to think I am.
I was not a good man, I did terrible things, but I hope I eased the red in my life book some with all the good I did after I came to Michigan. I’ll find out when my last breath leaves me, but until then, I will spend my last months embracing our friendship. You have never left me before and I know you won’t leave me now.
And because of that I owed all of this to you. My life story.
A/N:I pounded this bad boy out in 30 minutes, that’s how badly the idea needed to be written.
Reminder:I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.
“What’s that smile for, you silly man?” You cock your head towards Marcus as he lays in bed, watching you finish toweling off from your shower. He slowly shakes his head.
“Nothing.”
“Hmm, I doubt that, Mr. Pike.” He continues to smile as you toss your towel on the arm of the reading chair, your nudity on full display for him and somehow that grin of his gets impossibly larger. You slowly walk towards him, feeling his eyes rake across your body, still flush from the hot shower you took.
You reach the edge of the bed and begin to crawl across it until your right next to him. You bend your head down to pepper soft kisses along his bare shoulder and you internally grin as you felt his muscles bunch and jump beneath your touch. You remain on all fours but lower your upper half so that you rest on your elbows, nipples tightening as your breasts sway against the soft sheets.
“Hello.” You brush your lips against his, letting the velvet skin send a shiver down your spine.
“Hello.” He kisses you back, his tongue begging entrance into your mouth and the shivers grow as you open to him. With your ass and core tilted upwards, you can feel the coolness of the room more intently as you began to get wetter.
You continue to kiss for long minutes and you’re so focused on the sensation of his lips and tongue against your mouth, you fail to notice that he has snaked his arm underneath you. Suddenly his thick fingers cup your mound and you rear back, gasping in pleasure and surprise. He continues to smile, a lazy tinge to it as his eyes drop to half-mast in pleasure.
He runs two fingers between the lips of your core, rubbing gently as he passes over your clit and you moan in pleasure, thighs wanting to clasp together. You drop your face to press it into his shoulder and your hands begin to grasp the sheets beneath you to anchor yourself against the onslaught of pleasure.
Marcus slows his ministrations and your hips jerk, seeking the friction he denies you. Suddenly, his fingers return to your clit and begin to rub in agonizingly slow circles. You gasp harshly against his skin and the moan you let out seems so loud. Your body trembles as the pleasure courses through you and you finally force yourself to look up at his face.
The bastard is stillsmiling!
You growl against his skin and before you can say anything, he drags his fingers up your slit and sinks two of them into you - deeply. Your gasp is loud, and you surge forward, practically screaming into his skin. Just as before, he kept a steady, but almost maddeningly slow pace.
“Marcus!” You moan against his skin, burying your face into his warmth. “Please!”
You can’t see his smile morph into a smirk, but he was never one to deny you anything, so he obliges and increases his pace, letting the heel of his hand rub against your clit. Your hips jerk in time, fucking his hand as best you can even as your thighs shake from the raw pleasure coursing through you.
Before you know it, your pleasure crests and you come hard, almost impossibly so, screaming into his shoulder and eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your hips jerk and shake against his hand, which is stilled. When you stop, he slowly removes his hand and you drop your forehead against him.
You are in a daze, feelings of pleasure still pulsating throughout your body when you feel Marcus shift. But in the haze of your mind, you’re not quick enough to lift your head before he kneels behind you. He drags his hand up your spine and lays it on the back of your neck, fingers slowly massaging the skin there.
His light touch sends sparks of pleasure down your body, where they congregate in your now jerking hips. His smile, which has yet to leave his lips, takes on a more feral look as he rubs the head of his aching cock against you.
“Marcus!” You cry into the sheet, grasping at the fabric so hard that your knuckles have gone white. He relents and sinks into you with one shift of his hips. You cry out at the invasion, hips jerking in pleasure. His hands land on your skin, holding you tight for a moment.
He loves to feel you pulsating around his cock and he must force himself not to come just yet. When you whimper, he lets his hips draw back and then forward. Like with his fingers, he sets a maddeningly slow pace and you can barely breathe as the pleasure claws at your chest, your lungs, your heart.
You pull yourself up onto your hands, arms shaking from the pleasure that has seemed to rob you of your strength. And yet, you use the leverage to push back against his hips harder, pulling a moan from his chest. Your pants are loud, almost shrill as he begins to fuck you harder.
You never came off the high of your previous orgasm, so every move of his cock inside of you wrings every drop of want from you until your whole body is shaking in response. Soon, the tautness of your belly breaks again, and you clamp down hard on his cock and scream loudly into the pillow, throat nearly hurting from the rawness of it all.
You hear him groan behind you and with a few quick thrusts, he is coming and following you into the pleasure storm. After what seems like long minutes, he withdraws from you and you both collapse onto the bed. You turn your head and notice that his smile has been wiped off his face. And you can’t help but start smiling yourself. His eyes are closed as he struggles to capture his breath, but one of them crack open and sees you laying there with a large grin on your face.
A/N: I’ve been quiet and I’m sorry, but I’ve hit a bit of a wall. Plus work is hectic right now and I’m not in a writing mood. I’ve got at least one more chapter written in full after this one and chapter 9 is in the works, but I feel bad that I’m so quiet. I see the love you’re showing and I’m here for it. As a thank you, this chapter is over 4K words.
Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.
As Marcus Pike exited his rental vehicle, he couldn’t help but smile at the large, three story building in front of him. The Fort Jamison Historical Museum was housed in a former high school, but it’s turrets, ivy covered walls, and stained-glass windows seemed less hallowed halls of education and more akin to a fancy home. Regardless, he was charmed by what he saw.
When he entered the building, that charmed feeling continued and as he paused to get his bearings, he briefly wondered if he had enough time to visit the rest of the museum. The lobby of the FJHM was open, with large windows letting in the mid-morning sunlight, giving the burnished wood of the floor and trim a soft glow. The walls were draped in large banners featuring what he assumed were pictures from their collections and a seating area to the left of the welcome desk already had a few visitors chattering excitedly amongst themselves.
As he walked further into the space towards the desk, he noted a young woman to his left as she was filling a display case with what looked to be old calculators and to his right was an older gentleman filling a brochure stand. His steps alerted the man to his arrival and Pike watched as he quickly walked over to the desk to greet him.
After explaining what he was there for, the older man nodded and gave Pike the directions he needed to head upstairs to the office space. After being directed towards the stairs, the agent found himself taking them slowly, reading the display labels next to impressive pictures of the area. Once he stepped foot on the third floor, he realized he hadn’t been told which way to go. After a pause, Pike trusted his gut and picked a direction.
Two doors down from the stairwell was the very place he was looking for. Success.
As he entered the office of this Rosemary Carter, he felt immediately as if he had finally come home and he startled at the sensation. And not that it wasn’t a homey place to be, but that he felt as if he was meant to be there. A small part of him felt a sense of déjà vu, as if he had been here before, even though he never even heard of Ms. Carter or the museum or any of this prior to two weeks ago.
Shaking off the feeling, Pike looked around the space and smiled as he realized she was the opposite of a minimalist. Bookshelves lined at least two walls, the room was stuffed with furniture, and he was certain there wasn’t a speck of wall space left. The man at the front desk said Ms. Carter hadn’t arrived at work yet, so he took the chance look around and get to know the woman he was about to question.
His crew had completed a preliminary report on this Ms. Carter before he left DC where things like her impressive education and work history was discussed, along with reports on her volunteer activities and a few other things. But nothing really told him about her as a person and Pike always felt that getting to know someone was the best way to determine if they were a suspect or not.
Several articles lined the walls and he skimmed the stories, discovering that she had been at the museum for nearly half her career, that she was a specialist in decorative arts, and that she was passionate about her career. One article about a fundraiser was accompanied by a photo of the curator laughing while covered in whipped cream and surrounded by giggling school children. He felt himself smiling at the image, drawn in by the grin splitting her face.
He realized that was just how this Ms. Carter was and other photos lining her walls with friends and family show the same open face, the same joviality, the same laughter in all of them. There was even a photo of what looked like her receiving an award where she looked as if she was laughing gleefully.
He stepped back a moment to take a breath, as if it had been stolen from him – this was a woman who lived her life with joy and boldness at every turn. He realized that he was surrounded by it – what wasn’t brightly colored was whimsical and what wasn’t whimsical was almost cozy. Her walls were filled with children’s drawings and thank you letters were framed next to different types of textile art. He noted beautiful Ukrainian lace work framed behind her desk.
Yes, he thought, this was a woman who appreciated the beauty of life. The team’s preliminary report told him she was smart, but she was also a woman who loved fiercely and if the numerous photos were to go by, deeply loyal. He tilted his head – his original assessment had been correct; she wasn’t a suspect. Yes, she had reported it, but sometimes that didn’t mean anything as Pike had well learned in his career. However, this woman clearly feels things and probably believed that the theft was a personal afront to her.
He found himself looking intently at an old picture of several men in uniform posing with some artwork when he heard a throat clear behind him. He quickly straightened up and turned around, spotting Rosemary by the door. His face lit up at the sight of her and his smile was large, almost a grin as if he were glad to finally see her. He stepped away from the wall and held out his hand as she walked towards him.
““I’m Special Agent Marcus Pike.”
“I’m Rosemary Carter. Welcome to Fort Jamison.”
“And who’s this?” Pike bent down to hold out his hand for the dog at her side to sniff, but Banana rarely met a person he didn’t like and immediately walked between the man’s knees to beg for scratches, his stumpy tail wagging happily. Pike set his briefcase on the floor and yielded to the dog willingly with both hands.
“This is Banana.” Rosemary’s voice was tinged with a laugh and Pike thought it a beautiful sound. “He’s a good boy, but I’m sorry he’s being so rude and getting fur all over your suit. Normally he just goes to his corner of the couch and goes right to sleep.”
“No! It’s fine, I love dogs, grew up with them. What breed is he?”
“I have no idea, even the shelter didn’t know.” She laughed as the dog’s eyes dropped to half mast as Pike found his sweet spot. If the dog could have groaned in pleasure, he probably would have. “I just asked for a laid-back dog and Banana and I clicked, the rest is history.”
“So, can I ask where the name came from?” He looked up at Rosemary as she stood there, leaning on one leg and arms crossed. Her face was contorted into a smile-grimace, her embarrassment easy to read in her eyes. He thought it adorable and he couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot.
“In truth? I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think I was joking around and then it just stuck. But it fits for some weird reason. Baba, leave the man alone.” She waved at the dog who deftly ignored her in favor of his new friend. She sighed, her head hanging down in defeat and he chuckled. “Anyway, agent, please have a seat. If I had known someone was coming, I’d have at least cleaned my office and had a few things prepared for you.”
“No need to apologize. You didn’t know and I realize now I should have said something prior to arriving. So, this is all my fault. Please, take your time.”
She heaved a sigh of relief and waved him over to an overstuffed chair in front of her desk. She walked around the heavy oak piece, hanging her shoulder bag on a wall hook that was designed to look like the ass end of a dog with the tail as the hook. He could see a small plaque that said ‘Clyde’ attached to the base of it. Those little whimsical touches in her office just made him want to stay longer, get to know her more. He unbuttoned the last one on his jacket and sat down, settling into the surprisingly comfortable chair.
Just as she sat down herself, Banana suddenly jumped into Pike’s lap, wiggling around until he was comfortable, his head resting on the crook of his new seat’s elbow. The agent’s face took on a look of surprise before he started to laugh, but Rosemary made a horrified sound, standing back up.
“Banana! Get down!” She moved to come around the desk, but Pike held up his free hand to stop her and she paused, looking at the dog before looking back at him. She was hyper-aware that people don’t always like dogs sitting on them and she was sure the heat in her cheeks made her as red as a tomato. He must think of her as a bad dog owner.
“He’s fine, he’s fine. Let him be.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” His flashed a smile at her and she stop, hesitating a moment before she nodded and went to sit back down. He continued to pet the dog as she got settled, watching her as subtly as he could. He knew what she looked like, of course, but to see someone in person is different than seeing them in photos. He noted that the brown of her hair had a tinge of red to it and that she was grayer in person than she had been in the images that he saw.
Her face was smooth, but he could see the laugh lines around her eyes, remembering the way they crinkled as she smiled at him. And again, with that smile of hers! He felt as if he could live in it and never find a more comfortable home. What surprised him was her height - she was tall, something the report didn’t tell him, and he was glad he could look directly into her hazel eyes with little physical effort on his part. She gnawed on her lips as she fumbled around gathering everything up for this unscheduled meeting and he noted they were red from her ministration.
A thought of how those lips would look after he kissed them flittered through his brain before disappearing. He cleared his throat and stood up as straight as he could with the dog in his lap as those eyes, magnified by her glasses, glanced up at him in question.
“I read the theft report from the police and of course what you submitted, but if you could, just tell me the whole story.” Pike glanced over at her and she nodded.
“I was working late…” Pike held up his hand, stopping her.
“No, start from the very beginning – you never mentioned how you acquired the piece. I’d like to know everything that led to it being stolen.” She nodded and sat back, telling the story from the very beginning. At one point, she swiveled her chair towards her filing cabinet to pull out The Cornucopia’s file, passing it over to him. He interjected with questions periodically, but mostly he sat and listened to her in such an intense way that Rosemary felt almost shy under his gaze.
“Do you know much about the piece before Robert purchased it?”
“Other than what’s written in the history, no. I didn’t even know he had it until he gave to us in June.”
“It says here that it’s restricted, what does that mean.”
“That tells us the donor gave it to us with limitations. Normally we don’t take those, but we make a few exceptions, obviously Robert being one of them.” She indicated for him to flip over the page he was looking at. “There is the list. It comes down to that we store it and that’s it. No advertising, no mentioning it, nothing.”
“So, publicly no one knew you had this piece?”
“Correct. Until the report of the theft came out in the papers, the only ones who knew we had it were me, Helen since she’s the director, and of course Robert.”
“None of the rest of the staff?”
“No, there was no need to, while he gave such harsh restrictions, I treated his donation like any other. So, most of the items that went into the vault weren’t talked about with staff. Usually if I do bring them into the loop it’s because it’ll be going on display and our front line needs to be able to ask questions.”
“In full honesty, we investigated your institution before I came out here and if I recall you announced the donation of seven quilts from Mr. Lancaster in late June. Why?”
“You didn’t read too far into the article then; we made the announcement as part of our general statement on our quilt exhibit downstairs.”
“Exhibit?” Rosemary smiled and pulled a file from the holder on her desk, handing it over. As he opened it, he saw an ad for a quilt exhibit. He looked back up at her.
“We only had two physical quilts in our collection that we could officially say were Michigan made. Robert’s donation gave us seven more that we knew were locally made, giving us more artifacts for the exhibit and a boost in publicity. Robert was well known around here and well liked. Announcing those quilts brought in twelve more temporary loans.”
Pike nodded as he glanced through the file and went back to the first folder he was holding. He reached down on the side of the chair and patted at the thin air, realizing his briefcase was on the other side of the office. He tried to figure out how to reach it while not disturbing the dog, but he didn’t have to think long as Rosemary sensed his dilemma and quickly got up.
As she moved, he noted how graceful she was, even with her long limbs, and she bent over, he admired the sleek lines of her body. She stood up and he quickly looked away, lest he was caught ogling. She nodded when he smiled in thanks and his breath nearly hitched in his chest when she bent over to scratch Banana’s ears on her way back to her desk. She smelled of fresh linens and summer breezes and his mind made him think of billowing sheets, soft sighs, and dappled sunlight.
“Can I ask how you stored the piece? It says it was kept in a cabinet?” He had pulled out a notepad, scribbling a few things down to add to the report later.
“Yes, while my work room is locked when not in use, I have a specific cabinet that I can lock, with only me having access to the key.” She sat back, tapping her chin. “I had it installed about four years ago and had three spare keys made at the time. I damaged one about two years ago and a second one about this time last year. So, there is my main key and then the spare under my workbench.”
“Is that normal?”
“The lock and key routine? Not really, the idea had been to create a place where valuable or unstable items could be stored out of people’s reach. Outside of the statue, I can only think of three other times I kept artifacts locked up and those were highly dangerous items I couldn’t let others touch until they were disposed of properly.”
“Is that a problem here? Touching items when asked not to?” Rosemary snorted and Pike couldn’t help but chuckle at her response.
“Agent Pike, I don’t know how well you know people, but I can assure that the little monkey brain in all of us will do the opposite of what they are told. I had a special behind-the-scenes tour last spring and found one of our members attempting to take apart a three hundred-year-old clock on my bench. And the worst part? The item was on loan for an exhibit from another museum!”
“I see.” Pike laughed. “So, from what you’re saying, this was a quiet transaction and there is no reason anyone should have known you had the piece at all.”
“Pretty much.”
“Which means, they must have known about the statue beforehand.”
“I’m not sure how anyone could have. I was his best friend for ten years and I was in both his store and home often, even staying the night on occasion. Never once did I see the statue in either location, which if you knew Robert, that was something. That man lived his life on his walls – pictures, art, you name it, unless it was seasonal, it was out decorating some surface or another. And the one thing he couldn’t abide by was ugly anything, especially art.”
“Do you think The Cornucopia to be ugly?”
“In the spirit of honesty? Yes. And I know Robert would have, too. It looks like a bad drawing and I can just hear him making fun of it.” Rosemary laughed a bit and Pike smiled at the sound of her voice, an even tone with a hint of huskiness. Did that huskiness deepen when she was aroused, he wondered, before ignoring it.
“I see. However, it looks like he clearly owned it since he gave it to you and based on what is in this file. But it doesn’t say how he acquired it.”
“Hmm, I believe he said it was in Chicago, sometime before he moved to Saugatuck in the 1990s, but I don’t know if he said where it was purchased. Why? Do you think they’d have more history on the piece that what I have?”
“Well that’s the thing. Your entry on the NSAF alerted us because The Cornucopia was stolen from a museum in Wisconsin in 1993.”
“WHAT?” Rosemary’s feet, which had been propped up on the desk, landed hard on the floor as she shot up out of her seat. Her cry startled Banana, who jerked his head up and huffed, wondering what was going on. Without thinking, Pike began to comfort the dog with a gentle pat on the head but wasn’t entirely sure how he could calm the shocked woman before him.
“What do you mean stolen?” Her voice was steadily rising, the anxiety that she thought she pushed away after the attack, started to creep along the edges of her mind. What was going on? This agent must be wrong. “You’re wrong.”
“That’s why I’m here in person rather than conducting this interview over the phone.” He bent back down and shuffled through the files to pull out the one he was looking for. “Glancing at the background that was given to you, whoever wrote it knew the general history of the piece but modified the story to throw off anyone who was looking for it.”
“Wait. They changed the background but not the title of the piece?” He nodded. “Well that’s stupid.”
“In the spirit of honesty Ms. Carter,” Pike mimicked her words from earlier, “we rely way more on the stupidity of criminals to solve a crime than people would be comfortable with.”
With that, Pike handed over the history of the statue to Rosemary, who read through it, jaw dropping more and more as she read further into the history. He watched as her brows furrowed before shooting up at certain parts. Her sigh of resignation when she stopped reading was tinged with sadness – the whole situation was worse than she had originally thought.
“So, it’s true, then?”
“It is, we have video evidence of the theft – or as best we can have given the team that stole it spliced the video to make it seem otherwise. We have both the original statements and new ones taken just a few months ago about the situation and I’ve had people ID your photo correctly as the missing statue.”
“What does this mean for me? And for the museum?”
“It means whoever originally stole it in Wisconsin may have come back for it. And that once its recovered, it will likely go back to the ducal family.”
“Were the other curators and people attacked, too?” Pike shook his head at her question, her not realizing that the attack is what caused concern for him and his crew, giving him another reason to come in person.
“No. You were the first.”
“The first? How many times has this thing been stolen?” He bowed his head slightly at her question.
“This technically would be the third time, but this case is one of thirty over the last forty years that we believe is the work of the same team. All art pieces, all from museums and private collections. All cold cases until recently.” Her shoulders slumped at his words.
“That means whoever this was, you may not be able to catch them.”
“There is always that possibility. But I’d like to think we’re going to close this case once and for all. And bring your attackers to justice.”
“You think so, Agent Pike?”
“I do.”
—***—
“Okay and then what happened?” Tina’s voice sounded excited, her eyes sparkling as Rosemary paused her story. She, Amy, and Fern leaned in, eager to hear what the rest of the tale was. They had stopped by for dinner and trick or treating but were far more interested in the story of this Agent Pike.
“Um, we talked for a while longer before he went to meet with Helen. I think they were in her office for like two hours or something. I don’t know, I was too busy doing something else. And then he had me walk him through the attack as best I could, asking a lot of questions that even the police didn’t.”
“Like what?” Asked Amy.
“Like how they talked or if they use weapons. I think he even asked me about language.” The other women cocked their heads and nodded. “I think he talked to Bob and Marquetta. Scratch that, I know he talked to them because Marquetta was giggling like an idiot when she came up stairs to tell me he was staying to visit the museum.”
“He stayed?” Tina took another sip of her cocoa, eyes twinkling in the darkness. “Did you see him before he left?”
“Yeah, I went down to say good-bye and to thank him for taking this seriously and ended up giving him a tour. I even took him into the vaults. He asked a lot of great questions and even identified three paintings we had in the collection but no information on. I made him stay a bit longer to help me update their database entries.”
“Oooooh the vaults!” Amy’s voice was teasing. Rosemary was finicky about who went into her domain, so her taking a strange man in there had the girls buzzing amongst themselves. Sly grins were hidden by mug rims as they waited for her to continue. While she was being very vague with the story, she had talked about the agent all night, mentioning things like his smile or how he treated Banana.
“Shut up!” Rosemary cried, looking down into her hot cocoa, her face feeling flush suddenly.
“What does the agent think?” Fern patted Rosemary’s forearm in an encouraging way, knowing her friend was a little embarrassed by their teasing. Unlike her friends, Rosemary was single and rarely talked about her many failed dates. For her to be so chatty about this Agent Pike had them all on alert.
“That this was a piece that was stolen before and somehow Robert ended up with it, so they came to take it back. But he’s worried because they never attacked anyone until me.” She sighed, leaning her head back. “He thinks they can find the piece, but now there is a chance that we can’t keep it because it belongs to the royal family in Luxembourg still.”
“Do you think Robert knew that? All the stuff that the agent told you?” Amy asked as she went to get more cocoa to fill their mugs. The last of the trick or treaters had left hours ago, but the quartet remained on the porch. “That the statue was stolen?”
“I don’t know, I’ve asked him, and he just stares at me all stony faced.” Rosemary took another sip as her friends paused for a moment. When they started laughing, so did Rosemary, the group’s voices echoing off the nearby houses. They finally hushed themselves as best they could through all the giggles and snorts.
“That is a stupid ass joke, Rose!” Tina was blotting at a wet spot on the knee of her jeans where she spit out her drink, her giggles not stopping no matter how hard she tried. “We’re being serious!”
“So am I! You don’t say anything, but you know I go to the cemetery to talk to him. I’ve asked a thousand times, trying to rack my brain about this stupid statue. But honest to god it never came up until he gave it to the museum in June.” Rosemary sighed, her ribs hurting her again, an ache that didn’t seem to go away no matter what she did. “He had a whole life before Saugatuck we know nothing about. And it’s not like I’ll ever get answers to what it was like.”
—***—
“Pike! You’re blushing!” Carmichael’s voice was filled with giddiness as she watched her partner’s face on the video conference call. He ducked his head and looked away, fighting a smile that wanted to play on his lips. He refused to give his partner the satisfaction even though all he talked about for the last hour was Ms. Carter and not the case itself, which gave him away. “Oooooh, you like this Ms. Carter, don’t you?”
“No!”
“Hehehehe!” There was that rare giggle from Carmichael again, she clapped her hands together in delight. “You totally do! Look how red you are!”
“You’re imagining things, it’s probably just your camera all messed up. This is serious. Rosemary was hurt badly by all this!” Pike huffed, mad at himself that he couldn’t hide his emotions better. Stupid face.
“Rosemary? Are you two on first name basis now? How adorable!”
“Brenda! Stop it!”
“No. This is the best thing to happen in months.” She laughed with delight; her seriousness was a front she put on at work. In her private life, Brenda Carmichael was an avowed romantic and loved everything about love. She watched every cheesy romance movie on Hallmark, cried buckets of happy tears over the romance novels she read, and did whatever she could to nurture love in her world.
It’s probably why all of Pike’s romantic failures have hurt her more than him because she knows deep in her heart that Marcus Pike was a real-life romance novel hero and he just needed his heroine. She had tried for several months to play matchmaker to no avail. But to watch him get doe-eyed over this curator? She was downright gleeful.
hi, yes, is this thing on? hola! i’m mika and i’ve been making masterlists for some characters pedro has played over the years!
the idea behind making these masterlists is that (hopefully!) more people can read old works (some of us are new to the pedro party, alright? be nice to us! #tpwk lmao) and also new works (as i update it!) ✨
i’m gonna be doing a big update these next few days/weeks, so! if you wanna put a smile to my face and be part of the masterlists you can fill aform that’s linked on my tumblr bio or send me a message!
last but not least! if you check the masterlists r e m e m b e r to REBLOG and maybe reply too, ya know? that’s also nice the original posts bc these people are blessing us with their writing for f r e e!!! likes are nice and all but they don’t get writings anywhere really! having a lot of notes is cool and whatnot but actually reblogging something is ✨ so yeah be the real mvp and reblog the author’s works bye!
Notes:Beta-read by my dearest @ezrasbirdie This chapter had to be split up a little bit. The last 1/3 of this chapter is being inserted into the beginning of the next chapter because of how long this chapter is already. Keep your eyes out for that sometime soon
Comments/reblogs appreciated
Chapter warnings: Unresolved sexual tension, lots of kissing/making out, swearing, some awkwardness
Something is telling me that if you do not, Kevin will do it. The man knows things about you that she doesn’t and that’s never a good thing in a game of cat and mouse.
I love the cameos of Pope and Booth and the off-screen came of Poe! So good and wonderful ❤️ I’m also super happy my prediction of them running into one another during brunch paid off!
And oh. To be drawn like a goddess by one Marcus Pike. That’s the dream, sigh
Co-written by @katareyoudrilling and @just-here-for-the-moment… we don’t know what happened here. Kat came up with a question and we just started bouncing ideas off each other - and Part 1 was the very fun and unhinged result. Enjoy!
Outline: (Part 2) What if Marcus Pike decides to approach you at the restaurant? (No physical or racial description of Reader character)
Warnings: mentions of Marcus overseeing you masturbate; references to your BDSM pornography videos; mentions of sex toys; a shameless fangirl letter to @whataperfectwasteoftime
Warnings:BDSM, BDSM/fetish clubs, ROUGH spanking (with a belt), mentions of collars and collaring, mentions of a cage, restraints, guys this is a BDSM club lots of kinky stuff is going to be mentioned here, unprotected PIV sex (this is fantasy! Don’t do this in real life!) Let me know if I missed anything, this whole fic is a blur.
Summary:Marcus Pike’s latest case takes him undercover to a BDSM club. When he’s called to participate as a dom in a scene with an unattached sub, will he be able to keep his focus on the task at hand?
A/N:“I will prioritize finishing HTKAI” is a little lie I like to tell myself, apparently. I was on track and then I got THIS ASK which derailed me for a WEEK, but it was one of those GLORIOUS weeks where I could simply not stop writing. This is dedicated to the anon (I know who you are, but IDK if you wanted to be uhhhh exposed like that) and also to @katareyoudrillingand@just-here-for-the-moment who have listened to me scream about this idea all week and gave me some DELICIOUS ideas.
Marcus Pike takes a sip from his latte as his eyes scan the newest case file to cross his desk for what seems like the hundredth time that week.
Fifteen paintings had been stolen from the Takoma Art Gallery–which had seemed like an unusually high number until they were informed that the canvases are all miniatures, each depicting a different hyper-realistic koi painting.
The works are so stunning, that after visiting the gallery earlier that week, Marcus had purchased one for himself. He likes to do that–purchase one work from each gallery the team has to visit in the line of work. It seems like the least he can do, since every gallery he visits has just gone through an expensive and intrusive ordeal–police tape, countless interviews, security camera footage seizures, contractors to fix broken glass, unplanned closings, revenue loss, et cetera.
Not to mention the pain of having something the artist put hours of time and effort into, a little piece of themselves that they’ve pulled out and translated onto a canvas, vanished into thin air. If Marcus can recoup just a fraction of that mental loss by showing his appreciation for their art, he’s happy to do so.
Notes:Beta-read by my dearest @ezrasbirdie This chapter had to be split up a little bit. The last 1/3 of this chapter is being inserted into the beginning of the next chapter because of how long this chapter is already. Keep your eyes out for that sometime soon
Comments/reblogs appreciated
Chapter warnings: Unresolved sexual tension, lots of kissing/making out, swearing, some awkwardness
I have about 15 different subjects waiting in my art queue, but then I saw this image from the Talk Easy podcast and couldn’t help myself. What a breathtaking smile!
Painted on procreate in mixed media.
Immediate smile on my face looking at this, you captured that cheery and beaming vibe so well. The pastels! The color accents of that messy hair! The hair peeking out under the ears! So lovely.
ClickKeep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ‘creator chooses not to use warnings’. There is sexual content in here that is mature and by clicking Keep Reading you agree you are over 18 and can handle the content.
You were willing to ignore the awkwardness between the two boys as Marcus stutteringly insisted that Matty stay but Matt shook his head, “No, really. As long as she’s not being left unsupervised around expensive art…well this really isn’t my thing. I appreciate the drink.”
“You sure?” Marcus smiled, “Because you’re a helluva listener.”
“Not much of a choice.” Matt’s voice was a hair harsher than it should have been and you slapped his shoulder sharply as if to say Play Nice.
But Matty smirked, reached out and you offered him your hand, which he squeezed, and said, “Have a nice night.”
THE TENSION. I totally love that I am legit tense about the predicament that Legs is in. Like I love me a PWP, but it’s beyond excellent when I can’t wait to find out what happens plot-wise AND sex-wise.
Me: I will write a threesome
Also me: We need to work up SO MUCH TENSION FIRST.
remember that this is not on the normal taglist, if you want on you must ask for it :)
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ‘creator chooses not to use warnings’. There is explicit and mature content under the cut, by going under the cut you are agreeing to be of age, and understand that there is sexually explicit material.
Marcus wasn’t a rusher in all aspects, but he could admit that he was feeling…antsy about you and Matt resolving your issues and yes he thought he had earned a spot in the room while that happened.
He could admit it was strange, washing the remains of another man off of himself and having felt the sex with you had been…oddly electric all things considered.
New territory, sure.
And there was a restlessness to Marcus now and he vaguely felt if he was able to go deal with you and Matty that it would go away.
For your part you were anxious to prove you’d repented.
Marcus has an unending well of patience and bless him for it. And he’s a incredibly courageous dumbass. I wasn’t expecting Matt to unmask himself but what a way to end this chapter.
Marcus is patient because he wants to believe all people are good. Matty is suspicious most people are lying. It really is a fun dynamic to play with because Matt wants to be a Marcus but he made his bed.
Series Rating: R -> Mature, violence, language and mature sexual themes throughout. No under 18s please.
I am cross-hosting this on both my Murdock and Pike pages but this will be the ‘fic drop point’
Series Summary: Matt Murdock gets caught up with his old friend when she finds herself in hot water after a less-than-legal art deal goes wrong with the wrong people and her new boyfriend, Marcus Pike, is involved on multiple levels.
summary: [set in the desires & complications universe] after realizing he’s bi, marcus p goes to pride for the first time. he feels a little out of place. lucky for him, he has you and a certain mr. dave york to keep him grounded rating: T (kissing and a hint of daddy kink b/c it’s these three; otherwise pure self-indulgent fluff that made me feel a lot of feelings) word count: ~650 pairing: dave york x fem! reader x marcus pike a/n: happy pride! i wanted to do this bc there were so many of you that came to me after reading plead and said that you identified with marcus—i thought this might ring true, too. also, bisexuality is real, valid, and not transphobic.✌ quick shoutout to @purplepascal042 who gave me this lovely idea—if you’re not reading As It Should Be with Whiskey/Frankie/Bourbon, you’re not living.
~~
“You okay?” you ask. Marcus’s face screams anxiety. You pull him into you and stare into the immense crowd. The weather is sunny and beautiful. Colorful rainbow flags wave at you, fluttering in the cool breeze. In front of you, a group of leather-clad gentlemen passes by, waving cheerfully.
“I’m fine,” he says, shaking his head and sounding a little dazed. “I just…do I really belong here?”
i saw this and i said to myself “I’m gonna get emotional and probably cry” and guess what? i got emotional and i cried!!
I’ve had all those thoughts at pride before and i just it always helps to hear that reassurance and i love that Marcus has it coming from both his loves
"you don’t have anything to prove to anyone”
“kiss me like you mean it baby boy. you’re safe here”
Marcus Pike x female Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst
Recently arrived in Texas and only slightly removed from his divorce, Marcus finds himself smitten with the women at the housewares store that is helping him furnish his new Austin condo. It becomes a more complicated situation than he could have expected, but Marcus has never been one to shy away from a challenge when love is on the line. ✨This fic takes place *before* the events of The Mentalist.✨
Rating: E for Extremely Explicit! Word Count:16.4k Warnings: Cursing and food/alcohol mentions. Blanket warnings for this fic will include divorce, past abusive relationships, deceased parents, father issues. Summary: Whether you technically want to call it your first or second date with Marcus, a movie and dinner becomes quite an adventure when you realize that the two of you have a few key things in common. Notes: We’re ramping things up right out of the gate here, guys. Hold on to your hats!
With five minutes left until six o’clock you’ve managed to force yourself to stop pacing the main floor of your place. Instead, you’re sitting in your kitchen with a mug of tea and nervously twirling the small ring you’ve chosen as an accessory round and around your finger. It had been nearly impossible to think about anything besides Marcus for the rest of your shift. Everything seemed to push your thoughts back to him. Not that they ever strayed far from him in the first place.
Marcus had to stop setting up everything about an hour before, switching gears and showering so he could get dressed in something that was appropriate for a date. Nothing too formal, but he paired dark jeans and boots with a maroon button-down shirt and his leather jacket. The dishwasher hummed and he had just transferred the clothes over to the dryer. Kitchen towels and bathroom towels are all ready to be folded and put away once they are done.
He checks his watch and gives a grin, time to head over. He picks up the small bouquet of flowers he had stopped by to grab after he had dropped you off at work and gives himself a small nod. “Time to go, don’t embarrass yourself Pike, you like this woman and she’s your neighbor.”
You shake your head and grin when the sound of the doorbell chimes at six sharp, wondering what Marcus must think of your roommate’s playful motion to replace the neighborhood-standard ding dong with something more akin to music. “Right on time,” you practically beam at him when you open the door. He’s somehow even more attractive than he was a few hours ago, and is very sweetly holding out a small handful of gorgeous flowers. “Come on in. I’ll get a vase for those beauties.”
He steps inside, pleased to find that it is a mirror image of his own place. “Well now I don’t have to explain how big my living room is.” He teases, remembering how flustered you became when you had said something about it that could be construed in a completely different kind of way.
Snickering lightly, you dig an empty vase out of a cabinet and toss him a pointed look. “You pushed the innuendo on that one. You’d just gotten done asking about a people to cuddlesection!”
“Valid question for a single man who just wants someone to love.” He argues playfully. “It’s better than trying one of those dating apps.” He shudders slightly at the idea.
“I have to admit, they can suck.” A lot of your more recent dating has been done via app and blind set ups with Naomi’s boyfriend’s friends, but clearly none of them have stuck.
“I get the theory behind them.” Marcus shrugs and steps closer as you put water in the vase. He leans against your counter and sweeps his eyes up and down your figure in appreciation. “I just like an interesting meet-cute. Like ours. It’s honestly fascinating in my opinion and so much better than ‘we matched’. ”
“Retail makes it harder sometimes. All those fun weekend activities where people meet and chat and get to know each other? I’m usually working then. It’s only with the new promotion that I’m getting some of my nights and weekend time back.” The beautiful bouquet is easily deposited into the vase with some water, and you set it down on the kitchen island in front of you with a satisfied smile. “But I like our meet-cute better, too. It’ll be a very cute story if we ever have occasion to tell it.”
“Well.” Marcus shoots you a smile as you admire the flowers. “I say that we start our first date and see if we have reason to tell people about a meet-cute or that date from hell with the person I unfortunately live next to now and just wave to awkwardly.” He jokes. If things didn’t work out, he wouldn’t treat you any different from any neighbors he had in the past. He just wasn’t that type of man.
“I doubt you’ve ever been anyone’s Date From Hell, Marcus Pike.” One quick reach and you’re picking up your purse from the kitchen island and nudging him toward the front door.
He chuckles. “Then you’ve never heard about the time my car broke down, I spilled my beer on her, my credit card was declined, and it started pouring down rain while we walked to a phone alllllllll in one date.” He tells you as he guides you over to his car. “Classic definition of a date from hell. ”
“Oh,noooo.” The laughter that bubbles out of you is apologetic, to say the least. “That sounds awful. But it wasn’t because you did something wrong.”
“True.” He huffs and opens the door for you. “But it doesn’t count as anywhere close to the top ten dates.”
Once you’re both settled in the car you settle back with a comfortable sigh. “Tell me about one of the top ten, then. The funniest date or the best one or the one that is the most nostalgic.”
“Well….” Marcus knows that it’s not good protocol to talk about past relationships, but you asked. “I reserved a suite at the best hotel and had a full spa package arranged complete with room service.” He offers. “That was a fantastic weekend.”
“You like to make a fuss.” The revelation makes you smile, glad to see that the Marcus you met today who does small things like hold doors and pick up trash from the table, is consistently thoughtful. Not just as a means of making a good first impression.
“I do.” He doesn’t apologize for it, knowing that some might not like it, but it was a part of his personality. “Acts of services?” He offers with a smile.
“I’ll remember that.” Preferring to go into this with the idea of it lasting, you want to keep track of the important things early on. If it ends up fizzling out, it won’t be because of a lack of intention. “I’m kind of a words of affirmation and gifts combo.”
“Noted.” He tosses you a grin. “And if I get to be too much, just— you know, you can always say something. I never want to overstep.” He knows that there are certain people who hate having things done for them and he respects it.
“We’ll find a rhythm.” That’s something you’re fairly certain of, given the fact that you’re both reasonable adults and have so far been very upfront about your interest in each other. “As long as this doesn’t unseat your worst ever date story tonight, and we decide to see what happens…we’ll find a rhythm. Just…if you’re not a good morning and good night text kind of person, tell me now.”
That makes him grin and he shakes his head. “I’m more of a 'hey I called to let you know that I’m going to be ten minutes late and is there anything you need when I am on my way?’ type of person.” He had stopped calling Amanda when she seemed so annoyed by it, but in the end she seemed annoyed no matter what he had done.
“We’re the people who drive other people crazy,” you observe softly. “Checking in, sending notes, holding doors, doing things preemptively to try to lighten the load.” It actually makes you chuckle, the way that the two of you seem to line up. Even Naomi likes to give you grief about the little notes you drop in her purse sometimes when she has something big coming up, or the fact that you always seem to have one of her favorite bath bombs stashed for when she’s having a bad day.
“Can’t be a bad thing, right?” He asks.
“For us?” You shake your head, offering him a smile as he drives. “No. It’s good for us. But other people are missing out on the excellence that is our affection.”
He appreciates the outlook you have on it and hums when he stops at a red light. “What about you? I want to know your worst and best dates. See where the bar is at.”
“Let’s see.” Humming dramatically, you love the way he lights up a little when he looks over at you again before the light turns green. “Worst would be from college. The guy who took me to his little brother’s little league game because I said I like baseball. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking he was trying to be cute about it, but he proceeded to spend the entire game yelling corrections at the kids and telling me why they should give up on sports early to avoid disappointment.” It’s sort of funny now - mostly you just feel bad for the little brother and literally anyone who has met him since. “And the ‘picnic’ dinner he was very proud of packing? Was celery sticks and Jell-O cups.Which we ate while he told me what I should be changing about my diet and lifestyle to be more attractive to the men who have to spend time with me.”
“What a dick.” Marcus makes a face of disgust and shakes his head. “I’m seriously hoping you shoved a celery stick somewhere extremely uncomfortable in his bodily orifices.” He chuckles. “I’m saying this as a private citizen and this in no way represents the view of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He adds on, dry humor lacing his tone.
You shrug, being far past any kind of upset about it, and gently and briefly run your knuckle along the side of his hand in a soothing gesture. “I went home and ordered a pizza for me and my roommate to have with some beers while we watched the actual game that was on that night. Much better use of my time.”
“Perfect.” Marcus nods in approval. “If he wanted to really make it a date, he should have taken you to the game. Cheap seats, hotdogs, and beer?” He gives a small groan of approval. “Nachos and the ice cream that comes in the little hats.”
“I’m seeing a road trip to a Rangers game in our future.” The prediction makes your smile widen, and don’t for one moment regret letting yourself get excited.
“We could do that.” Marcus has to admit that he wouldn’t mind that at all. “We didn’t have a professional team in Portland, but we had a minor league team that I would go to sometimes.”
“Are you from Portland originally?” You ask, wanting to know more about the man you already feel so comfortable with.
“No.” He shakes his head and shrugs. “I’m from southern Cali, don’t hold it against me. Portland was my first duty station out of the Academy.” He gives a small chuckle. “San Diego to Quantico was like a completely different world.”
“Man, I thought upstate New York to DC was bad.” Shaking your head a little, you try to imagine a laid back, potentially surfer-sequence version of Marcus getting used to the pounding pace of the nation’s capital.
“Completely. I had just finished school and it was a completely different universe.” He chuckles, looking over at you with a grin. “Frat parties to weapons training.”
“I went from the family farm to the big city.” The image of him as a frat boy is endlessly entertaining to you, because he doesn’t give off that stereotypical energy in the least. “8 am classes were nothing compared to getting up before dawn to milk the cows before school, let me tell you.”
“Wow.” He tosses you a grin. “No wonder you spent ten minutes telling me about how different cheeses reacted to different styles of graters.”
“You can take the girl out of the dairy farm, but you can’t take the obsessive knowledge of all things milk-related out of the girl.” At the time you had barely noticed you were doing it, but now you can feel the tips of your ears heat up. “When were you at Quantico?” You ask, quickly changing the subject.
“Ten years ago.” He smirks slightly at your obvious embarrassment, but he had been fascinated by the mini lecture.
As he pulls up to another red light, you turn fully toward him in your seat with your eyebrows furrowed as seriously as eyebrows can possibly be furrowed. “Marcus.” You shake your head at him, barely keeping yourself from laughing. “I graduated from George Washington University eight years ago. This…” You can’t hold them back, the giggles escaping at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. “This isn’t the first time we’ve lived in the same city…”
“Jesus.” His own giggles burst out until the two of you are laughing in his car like idiots.
“The universe literally just shoved you through my front door today. Just incredibly sick of us walking past each other on the street.” You may not put a lot of stock in destiny or the universe, but it sort of seems like the something out there is dead set in making you believe.
“No, what will be sick is if you used to go to the Command Post.” He tells you, remembering heading to that little sports bar when they needed a break to have a few beers and shoot some pool. It’s one of the few places he had gone.
“Um…” Sinking back into your seat, you cringe a little before you burst out giggling again. “My roommate…Naomi…s-she used to bartend there…”
His eyes blow wide, and he whips his head around to stare at you in shock. “No shit?!” He huffs out. “Jesus, Madison was fucking in love with her. Swear he would tip her like forty bucks every time he bought a round.” He pauses. “Curly hair, skin the color of dark chocolate and would wear green contacts?”
“You know Madi?!” It’s a goddamn blessing that you’re nearly at the movie theater, because you’re both about to bust out of the car from laughing so hard. “Oh, you’re going to fucking love this.” What the ever-fucking-fuck kind of coincidence is all this? “Marcus, they’re dating now! He’s here in Texas. They ran into each other a couple of months ago at a private party she was working.”
“Jesus, I wondered where the hell he went.” Madison had gotten caught up in a bad bust in organized crime and had left the FBI. He slaps his hand against the steering wheel and starts laughing again. “Okay! I get it! We were supposed to meet!” He glances up at the roof of the car before he looks back over at you. “This is proof that the world is a small fucking place.”
“Fucking crazy.” You shake your head at him, aware your mouth is hanging open in disbelief but not really able to close it or stop being shocked. “When we hit that Rangers game, all four of us should go,” you offer, wanting to give him a chance to see his old friend again. “If you want.”
“Hell yeah.” Marcus chuckles and turns into the parking lot of the theater. “We used to talk about taking a train into New York for a Yankees or Mets game when we were studying our asses off.”
“You couldn’t just go to a Nationals game like everyone else in the city?” It’s so wild to think about that you’re not sure you’ll be able to start processing it properly any time soon. “I can’t believethis…”
“We did, but we wanted to go see a subway series game.” He tells you with a laugh.
“Just think,” you flash Marcus a grin and shake your head. “If we’d run into each other at the bar back then, maybe I could have avoided the Little League date.” You shrug. “But then, I do love to tell that story.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “It could have been possible. I met my ex-wife in that bar.”
“Oh yeah?” You haven’t poked or asked anything about her, but this feels like a moment to at least make the situation a little lighter. “Anyone I know?” At this point, you would believe anything.
“Okay, so if you knew Amanda Perez, I’m going to just declare this the Twilight Zone.” He huffs, glancing over at you to see your reaction to her name after he parks.
“That depends.” You can feel all the blood drain from your face, thinking about the only Amanda Perez you ever knew - ten years ago, in Washington DC. If it’s the same woman, you’re going to declare this completely insane. “Are we talking 5’9”, black hair, perpetually bronze skin, never drinks hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, and talks in her sleep when she’s stressed out?”
“Nofucking way.” Marcus leans back and gives you a wide-eyed stare of disbelief. “This is— how did you know her?” He chokes out.
“We…” You choke on it, honestly a little worried about how he’ll react. If you’re right about the timing…well, the universe has a very fucked up sense of humour. “We dated.” Your head drops, looking at your thumbs in your lap. “For about six months. Then she sat me down on campus one day and told me she’d met somebody else.” Just - apparently - like she’d done to Marcus ten months ago. “When did you guys meet?”
He feels like he’s been hit by a truck. Especially since he had specifically asked his ex-wife if she was dating someone when they met and he got her number. Woodenly, he tells you the date, something that he had memorized at one time as the luckiest fucking date in history.
“Cool.” You’re already nodding as soon as the month comes out of his mouth, and for the first time this memory makes your heart hurt not because she hurt you but because she hurt him just the same way. “Cool…yeah…we…um…we overlapped for about a month, then. She was seeing both of us for about a month…”
“I’m sorry.” Marcus is immediately apologizing, feeling completely sick to his stomach. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I - I asked if she was seeing someone, I swear.”
“Marcus, I’m not mad.” Shaking your head again, it’s like you’re trying to shake your thoughts back into line. “I mean, I was. I was completely heartbroken. But it’s not your fault. She…” You shrug helplessly. “Clearly, she has a pattern of finding someone new before she leaves the person she’s with. I’m sorry…if this is all too weird, or too much, or upsetting for you I totally get it. I can take an Uber home and we can just wave awkwardly at each other in passing like most neighbors.” It would - you realize with a sick feeling dropping through you - be a little heartbreaking all over again. But you don’t want to put Marcus through any kind of pain.
“Why would I want that?” He frowns at you in confusion. “I mean…if you don’t think that it’s a good idea to date, I understand. But my ex-wife being a slightly shittier person than I had realized doesn’t change my interest in you.”
“Are you kidding?” A huff pushes its way out of you as you laugh in disbelief. “I want to send her a picture of us together. Ten years later and I still want to throw it back in her face. I may be feeling a little petty about it, to be honest. But I’m sure as hell not going to let the fact that we share an ex put me off wanting to be on this date with you tonight.”
The grin Marcus gives you is positively wicked, and he purses his lips slightly. “We are still friends on social media.” He tells you slyly. “We agreed that we would be 'friends’ because she couldn’t bear the thought of not knowing that I was okay.” He rolls his eyes slightly now that he knows that it’s a pattern his ex had for cheating. Something he had clearly stated he despised.
“Ooooo,” you rub your hands together with happy, petty glee. “Picture in front of the movie theater? See if she spontaneously combusts over Facebook?”
“Oh, I say we tease her.” Marcus huffs. “Post a picture of us holding hands and then one after the movie. Don’t you remember how nosy she is?” Amanda had always wanted to know what was going on in everyone’s lives.
“I will bet you anything that she will try to take preemptive credit about how she always knew we would get along or some bullshit.” With the specter of your mutual ex not hanging between you like an awful Twilight Zone episode, you lean quickly over the center console of his car and leave a small press of your lips on his cheek. “Come on, handsome, quick picture and let’s get some popcorn. Movie starts in less than five minutes.”
Marcus snorts as he gets out of the car, walking around it while giggling to himself like a schoolboy and gives you a smirk when he opens the door for you. “So, I have a technical question?” He started in a long draw. “Does…does our body count go up when we sleep together? Since we’ve slept with the same woman? Don’t we get a pass on this? I feel like we should get a pass.”
“Honey, I have a feeling my body count is a lot higher than yours anyway,” you throw him a playfully suggestive wink, but the fact is that you never actually made it to the altar over the last ten years and he did. “If you want a pass, it can be a pass.”
“That doesn’t scare me.” He shuts the door behind you and his hand rests on your lower back, not too low to be disrespectful but he knew you wouldn’t mind the touch. “Just like the fact that you used to date my ex-wife doesn’t scare me. We can bitch about her annoying traits together.” He jokes lightly.
“Blanket hog.” You groan immediately, making no effort to pretend you’re not leaning into his warmth a little. March in the evening in Texas still had a decided chill in the air. “I’ll offer this up on the Altar of Exes while we’re still on the topic, but I was engaged about a year ago. Part of packing up and coming to Texas was getting the hell out of New York again. It’s not necessarily a long story, but it definitely reads like the screenplay for a Hallmark movie.”
“Man or woman?” He asks curiously. It’s obvious that you have lived that never say never life and he’s interested in your background. “Not that it matters, heart break is heart break and I know it sucks.”
“Boy.” You roll your eyes dramatically. “Basically, I stayed in DC after college, trying to figure out what the hell to do with my hospitality degree that would pay more than minimum wage and no clear dream job. About four years ago, my mom got cancer, and my dad couldn’t take care of her and the farm on his own, so I moved back. Crate & Barrel let me transfer to the nearest store to my hometown and I kept my job there one day a week just so I wouldn’t have to quit. Turned out that my dad’s prized farm manager was my high school sweetheart. He and I got back together, tried to make it work, then when it was clear that my mom wasn’t going to make it, he proposed in front of her. Forced me to say yes, basically. A few months later I laid my mom to rest, told him to eat shit, and I found a promotion to move to.”
“Oh fuck.” He grimaces at the poor taste of that timing. “I could see if it was her wish to see her little girl happy or whatever, but nooooo.” He shakes his head and rubs your back in a half turn of his wrist. “I’m sorry about your mother, beautiful.” He murmurs softly. “That was the time to stand beside you and support you, but never push any type of big, emotional decision.”
“She would have liked you.” You tell him quietly, masking the slight sniffle that always threatens to invade when your mom comes up in conversation. “She did this weird thing…every morning she’d put the coffee pot on and go out to the garden while it brewed. I don’t know how she always had enough flowers every single day for a new vase, but there were always fresh flowers on the kitchen table when I came down for breakfast. So, the fact that you showed up at my door with flowers would have put you in her good books immediately.”
“Then I’m extra glad that I brought them.” Marcus tells you, walking up to the ticket booth and pausing the conversation long enough to purchase two tickets to the movie from the teenage girl behind the glass. Once he has them in hand, he turns to you and offers you the ticket he had gotten for you. “Maybe one day I’ll get to meet her and bring her the most beautiful flowers I can find.” He is obviously talking about visiting her grave with you, but it’s pretty clear that your mother meant the world to you.
“Sorry.” Sniffling slightly, you shake off the layer of melancholy and accept the ticket from his hand. “Didn’t mean to bring the mood so far down. I just don’t want you to think I’m commitment phobic or something. I didn’t make it down the aisle for a very good reason.”
“Baby.” It’s almost natural that the term of endearment comes from his mouth, especially at thismoment. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He assures you, reaching for your hand and lacing his fingers with yours, and giving them a small squeeze. “Good, bad, sad, I want to know all about you.” He leans in and kisses the side of your head. “Would a buttered popcorn, some Milk Duds and a large Coke help lift your spirits?”
The softness that rolls through you - the sweet little pet name, the touch of his hand, his lips, everything together - has you leaning against him all over again. Face to face, this time, and it means you can smile up at him and find out the exact shade of brown his eyes are when they’re all soft around the edges like they are now. “Make it Junior Mints, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Done.” He’ll let you eat all of those, mint and chocolate never mixed with him, but he would buy two boxes for the smile on your face. “A large popcorn, a box of Junior Mints and two Cokes.” He orders when you reach the concession stand before he turns to you. “Anything else you want, baby?”
“That’s more than enough.” You promise him, both because it’s absolutely true and also because you’re not about to pout and request cuddles in front of the teenage cinema employee currently bored by your entire existence.
He gives you a smile before turning back to them with a smile. “That’s it.” He pays and hands you one of the Cokes and the Junior Mints while he takes the tub of popcorn and his own coke before leading you over to the butter station. “A lot of butter or a little?”
“I am routinely yelled at for drowning my popcorn,” you tell him seriously. “So put as much on as you want.”
He catches his tongue between his teeth and grins at you. “Are you sure I wasn’t supposed to meet you at that bar?” He asks, knowing that he would have approached you just as easily as he had Amanda and apparently you were a better fit. “We are going to need napkins.”
Reaching past him, you grab an exaggerated stack of napkins and tuck them in your hand along with the candy box. “I think we definitely were supposed to meet in that bar.” Once the facts of the situation had started to sink in - and the conversation since then - you’re willing to admit that there is an element of destiny or fate of some kind at play. There are just too many coincidences surrounding the whole thing.
Marcus cackles gleefully as the butter dispenser spurts again and again all over the kernels. “Remember how Amanda hated this?” He asks, shaking his head. “Always wanted plainpopcorn.”
“Lecture upon lecture about cholesterol.” Seeing even a little of Marcus’s catharsis through being able to vent about her is somewhere on the fence between kind of cute and wildly entertaining, and you love this level of freedom on him. “What is life without a little fun? A movie without buttered popcorn? Nachos without ungodly amounts of cheese and pickled jalapeños?”
Marcusmoans, rolling his eyes in pleasure. “Fuck yes.” He snickers. “We had one of those chocolate fondue fountain things? I definitely put that amazingly nasty canned nacho cheese in it during game day parties. Just hold the chip under the cheese.”
“Marcus Pike.” You deadpan his name, so he looks at you curiously. “That may be the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“It’s official.” He shakes his head, and his face is splitting in two from the force of his grin. “You’re my soulmate.”
“Come on.” Your cheek heat deeply until your face is practically on fire, and you can feel yourself go shy at the honesty in his only slight tease. “Let’s go find a seat and take an astonishingly cute picture before the lights go down.”
“Perfect.” Marcus follows you into the theater and tells you to pick wherever you want to sit, secretly happy when you want the next to back row.
“Get the popcorn in the picture,” you snicker, wiggling around in the tight movie theater seats as the two of you try to find a decent way to pose for this silly photo.
He loves the way you think. Stretching his arm out so he can snap the pic. It takes a couple of tries, but eventually there is one really great one. “There it is.”
“We’ll see if she has anything to say about that in a couple of hours.” You’re absolutely certain beyond a doubt that Amanda’s need to be in the middle of gossip will prevail, and Marcus will probably have a few texts and you’ll have a friend request by the time the movie is over.
“You are evil, and I love it.” Marcus tells you as he captions the picture and posts it on his timeline before he turns off the phone completely.
“We dealt with enough of her bullshit, she can handle a little fun from us.” When you settle back into your seat, you have no desire to do any of the vaguely uncertain mincing around and instead just lean into his side. You want to be beside him, and you won’t apologize for it.
Marcus lifts his arm and puts it around your shoulder. Never happier than this moment in how candid the two of you had been with each other. “Popcorn?” He asks as the lights dim.
“Well, we didn’t just get it for the picture.” With a grin, you grab a few kernels off the top of the tub and offer them to him, fully aware of the intimacy of the gesture.
There is a moment where he just looks at you, amazed at how easy all of this is with you before he leans forward and opens his mouth for you to feed him the popcorn, closing his mouth around your fingers and making sure to suck the buttery richness off of the tips before he pulls his head back.
Alright. Well. There’s no way you’re going to be able to concentrate on the movie now and you absolutely brought that upon yourself. Hoping Marcus didn’t register too much of the flash of heat in your eyes, you ease yourself back into your seat and under his arm as the credits begin to roll.
The movie starts, but all Marcus can think about is you. Every time you shift slightly, it’s to bring yourself closer to him and he can’t say that he hates it. The movie plays, almost in the background he’s so hyper aware of you and every time you reach for the popcorn, his own hand bumps yours as you both seemingly have the same sense of timing. “I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.” He teases, leaning in to murmur softly in your ear.
“Me?” You whisper, batting innocent eyelashes at him. “I am innocent and pure and am not at all enjoying the small touches.” Just pointing it out tells him how much you are enjoying them, and hopefully lets him know how borderline giddy you are.
“God, I hope not.” Marcus whispers back playfully and leaning in a bit more so that his nose is almost touching yours. “I have a firm rule of never kissing someone innocent and pure on the first date and I was really looking forward to that first kiss I am planning.”
“Oo, there’s a plan?” You raise an eyebrow at him, grateful there’s no one sitting nearby to shush your whispered flirting. “So, I’d better not close the gap and do it myself right now, huh?” You wouldn’t, not if he’s been thinking about it enough to have an actual idea of how it will happen. But it’s fun to tease.
“I mean…you are always welcome to close the gap and do it now.” Marcus hums. “But I was honestly thinking that it would be even better if it were when we were both full and there was the taste of sweet wine on your lips, maybe the light of the moon shining down on your face. Where I can face you completely and cup your cheek. Slow to start, testing the waters before it deepens.”
Swallowing the hard thump of your heartbeat, you can feel the excitement course through your veins. The promise of something new, and potentially big, hovers in the horizon and in his words. “But,” your voice is barely above a breath. “How will we know which is better unless we’ve tried both?”
“Clever girl.” His eyes are soft and yearning, flickering down to your lips for a moment before looking back up at your own soft orbs. He tilts his head slightly in invitation, offering you his lips but not demanding anything. This next step was yours to take if you want to.
The world seems to slow, in that beautiful way it only does when something wonderful is about to happen, and the faded dialogue of the movie filling in the background like Marcus is your own personal screen idol. It takes only a small turn off your head to nudge his nose with your own, eyes flicking up to find his lids heavy and hazy as you lean forward imperceptibly to press your lips to his.
There is something sweet and yet so incredibly titillating about the buttery, salty taste of your lips. He sighs slightly and his lashes flutter as he closes his eyes and leans in more firmly into the kiss.
It’s adolescent, to be sharing your first kiss in the back of a movie theater over a tub of buttery popcorn and sticky-sweet soda, and you sort of love that about it. The moment is relaxed and unpretentious, with the hum of excitement running all through it as Marcus presses back against your soft approach and you happily sigh to deepen the first moment of physical intimacy between you. He forgets that you are in public, forgets that there is a movie playing on the screen in front of you. Everything but the feel of your lips on his fades away into the background.
With the way he molds so perfectly against you, it would be so easy to go too far. To just toss up your hands and indulge, the rest of the world be damned. But you remind yourself that it’s early days. Just the beginning. And there can be so much more if this to come.
You pull back gently, reluctantly, and feel yourself mourn the loss of his touch immediately as you’re nearly panting for the breath he’s stolen from you. “I…um…wow…”
“Wow, is right.” Marcus gives you an almost goofy grin.
“The moonlight and sweet wine have a lot to live up to, later.” You tell him with a sly smirk, before settling into his side again. Teasing Marcus is easy and fun - comfortable as well as exciting. Something you hope you’ll never get used to. Teasing him and kissing him are very similar endeavors.
“I will have to bring my A game to top that kiss, but I think I can.” His fingers brush the skin of your arm gently, making you shiver. He hums, knowing that it’s not cold that makes you react like that, but he uses it as an excuse to lean close again. “Let me know if you need my jacket, beautiful.”
“Just you, handsome.” You both know it’s not the chill of the air conditioning making goosebumps raise on your skin, and you offer him another piece of popcorn from your fingers. “Just you.”
He smirks and takes the popcorn again, this time making sure to twirl his tongue around your fingers as if your digits were your clit and he was treating it to his singular attention.
“Tease,” you murmur under your breath, acting like you’re upset about it but you’re honestly not in the least. Turned on, however? Oh yes.
“Not teasing.” Marcus responds smoothly. “Promising.”
You’re proud of yourself for not whimpering, but there’s no way he misses the way you shift in your seat and gently squeeze your thighs together in anticipation. Your ex-fiancé wasn’t a bad lover or anything, but oral just wasn’t his time to shine. Cumming on Marcus’s tongue sounds like heaven. “I hope you keep your promises, then.” Not that you doubt him. Of anyone in the world, you fully believe Marcus Pike keeps every promise he makes.
“It might be my favorite thing in the world.” He lifts a brow at you and smirks slightly. “And it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to indulge.”
“Fuck…” That’s definitely a whimper, and you’re grateful no one is nearby to judge you for it. “Well, I’m happy to break that dry spell for you.”
“We just have to survive this movie and dinner.” He murmurs softly. “I’d already taken tomorrow off. Do you have to work?”
“No.” You’re all but shaking your head, ready to promise him you can sleep in and stay naked if that’s what he wants. All he has to do is say the word. Tipping your head back, you find his soft eyes watching you. “And Naomi’s staying with Madison tonight. So no roommate, either.”
“Hmmmm.” He smiles and leans in. He doesn’t kiss you, but he does nuzzle your nose with his. “So I don’t have to worry about you being too loud then.”
“With what they put me through, they deserve payback.” You grumble softly, breath catching at the unexpectedly dirty reply.
“I’ve heard.” He snorts. “Our bedroom walls are shared. “Once I get my bed, we might have to have a competition.”
“We can trash my second-hand bed with a contest, not your brand new one.” You know what that big, beautiful four poster is costing him, and you won’t let him waste that kind of investment.
He huffs and sends you a cocky smirk. “I have to test out how durable it is.” He teases, body extremely interested in this conversation.
The slickness between your legs is nearly fogging your brain with your nod and murmur: “For science.”
“For science.” He agrees and tries to look back at the screen with a sigh. “So…I have a naughty idea.” He poses. “What if we leave the movie now and go get dinner.” He knows he hadn’t watched any of the movie up on the screen if he was honest with himself. Too focused on you.
Flicking your eyes back up to the screen, you have to admit that if you hadn’t seen it a dozen times already, you would have no idea what was going on - finding him much more engrossing than Norma Desmond could ever hope to be. “Very naughty.” You agree with a grin. “Let’s go.”
The two of you giggle as you make your way down the stairs and out of the theater. Marcus only feels slightly bad about tossing a nearly full drink and popcorn, but he’s too interested in getting you alone where you don’t have to worry about bothering others with your conversation. “Note to self, watch movies at home. When I get a TV.”
“Ah, electronics. The one thing I am absolutely useless in shopping for.” Now that you’re out in the lobby, your voice almost feels odd at full volume again. “But yes, you do need a tv.”
“I am an excellent judge on TVs.” Marcus tells you snootily. “If I can turn it on and watch TV, it’s good.”
“Well, I can’t fault your logic.” You shake your head at him as you make your way through the lobby. “But you’ve forgotten. In order to be good, a TV must also be verybig.”
He snorts and throws you a mildly dirty look as you exit the theater and make your way into the dusky night. The sun is starting to set and he chuckles. “How about a good mid-sized tv that knows how to work really well?” He bargains, aware that he’s not talking about TVs at all.
“Oh, we’re talking about TVs.” Throwing him an exaggerated wink, you nod wisely. “Yeah, function over form, every time.”
His hand on your back flexes slightly, resisting the urge to reach down and pinch your ass. If this wasn’t your first date, he might actually do it, but he needs to somewhat mind his manners. “So where would you like to eat dinner, beautiful?” He asks you softly, wondering if you have any favorite places or anywhere you’ve wanted to try.
“I’m not picky.” The stroll back out to the parking lot is lazy and the warmth of his hand on your back lulls you against his side yet again. “You mentioned steak earlier. We’ve talked about barbecue. There’s a good Italian place I know. Anything it’s fine.”
“Ehhhhh.” Marcus would prefer that you pick but he knows that it might just lead to a longer conversation about the merits of each place and he doesn’t want to take longer than he has to in order to get you sat down to wine and dine. “How about Chama Gaucha?” He asks, wondering if you would like the Brazilian steakhouse. “They even have a salad bar.” He offers enticingly.
“This is going to be a thing, isn’t it?” You wrinkle your nose at him, sticking out your tongue for good effect. “Brazilian barbecue it is.”
“I’mcompromising.” He sticks his tongue out at you. “I heard that is healthy in relationships.”
“Funny how often we used to get those lectures when we were always the ones bending over backwards.” With another heavy eye roll, you take the last few steps to his car a little faster - his long legs meaning he’s already beaten you there. “It’s a meat and veggies compromise, but from how much you obsessed over picking out wine glasses, I’m guessing they have a killer wine list.”
“I have heard they do.” Marcus had never been there himself, but it was one of the restaurants that he had been wanting to try. He just hadn’t yet because it’s not any fun going to a place like that by yourself. “Hopefully we will find out.”
“Hopefully we will.”
As always, Marcus holds your door for you to get in and settle in before he shuts it and climbs into the driver’s side.He starts the car and pulls out of the theater parking lot so he can navigate towards the restaurant. He has always had a pretty good sense of direction and exploring the city for work had helped him get a good idea of the overall layout and where a lot of things were located. “What type of wine do you like?”
“Do I lose points if I say ‘cheap’?” You offer him what you hope is a charming smile. “I’ve matured only slightly beyond my college Arbor Mist obsession. So…I guess that’s anything sweet and fruity.”
He raises a brow at that. Amanda had been very picky about wine, and they had spent several vacations in Napa Valley as a result. “I’m guessing a shiraz might be the best starting point.”
“I know, I have the palate of an 18-year-old sometimes. It’s awful.” You shake your head in defeat.
“No, I’m just wondering how you and Amanda got on with that.” He chuckles. “She is…rather snooty about wine.”
The huff that pushes out of you is audible. “I pretended really hard.” You tell him quietly. “But…I don’t want to pretend with you.”
“Does it help that I like beer better than wine?” He asks, sending you a side glance. “And a good tequila is the best.”
“You’ll show me what you like, and I’ll show you what I like.” That’s how it should work. At least to you. No pretending and no lying. If it goes beyond tonight, anyway. “If you want to, I mean.”
“Oh, I’m just thinking about how to stock my fridge when you come over to my place.” He throws you a smirk. “If you want Arbor Mist, I’ll make sure that you have whatever flavor is your favorite. If you like IPAs…” He grimaces. “You’re on your own there.” He teases and wrinkles his nose playfully.
“These days it’s more like shandies and Riesling.” You relax measurably in your seat, that unhappy flash of nerves fading away. In its place, you send him a smirk. “You never did tell me your favorite cheeses.”
He tosses you a mildly guilty grin. “Is this date over if I tell you that it’s goat cheese?” He snickers.
You half-snort, covering your giggle with one hand. “It would be off if you were dating my father.”
“Well then I guess it’s a good thing that my favorite cheese is Havarti.” He chuckles and can’t help but reach over and take your hand. “That or fresh mozzarella.”
His fingers laced through yours are warm and weighty, and you raise the back of his hand to your lips to press a kiss to his skin. “You teach me about good wine, and I’ll teach you how to make fresh cheese,” you bargain, truly believing that the more you share, the better things will be.
“Ohhhh I like that.” Marcus grins. “How do you feel about charcuterie boards?” He asks seriously. He had gone with Amanda to a class on how to set up the best boards for parties and his ex-wife had been obsessed with them. As long as there was jalapeño jelly and berries on it, he was in heaven.
“Honestly that’s most of what I eat for lunch,” you admit without a hint of shame. “Just me and my little charcuterie board at my desk with a sweet tea? That’s heaven, baby.”
He hums in approval and nods. “So, I’m envisioning dates on my new couch with a charcuterie board and a new wine while we cuddle in our new blankets.”
“That sounds like the perfect rainy night.” The vision of a storm sounding outside the house while you curl up in a little blanket fort of your own making is about as sweet as he is. “Date night at home.”
“I’m glad you like that idea.” He gives you a sweet look as he stops at the red light. He’s only about six hundred feet away from the turn for the restaurant. “Your favorite version of a date is what?” He asks.
“Anything that involves learning.” It seems like a cop-out answer, you know that, but you squeeze his hand quickly and explain. “Teaching each other things, taking little classes, hitting a museum, or trying something that’s new to both of us.” You shrug slightly. “Nerd dates.”
“Damn.” Marcus hadn’t thought you could be any more perfect, but you continue to surprise him.
“Damn?” Your head quirks in his direction as he pulls into the restaurant’s parking lot.
“Just admiring how perfect you are.” He tells you as he parks and shuts the engine off.
“Oh,please,” you roll your eyes playfully.
“Seriously, you said the magic words.” He promises.
Willing to admit that might be the case, you reluctantly let his hand go so he can put his car in park. “Do you have the same answer, then?”
“I have to admit I might be asking you to accompany me to a few gallery showings.” He winks before he gets out so he can come around and let you out of the passenger side.
“Perfect.” You slip out of his car once more and happily accept his hand when it lingers by your side. “I can learn more about art.”
Inside the restaurant smells delicious and Marcus’ mouth waters. “Table for two please.” Marcus smiles at the host and squeezes your hand.
The genuinely bored looking host shows you to a booth where you are immediately greeted by your waitress with a smile and attitude as bright as the sun, and you fluster when she explicitly welcomes you out for what is clearly your date night. “How long y’all been together?” She asks, chattering away. “If ya don’t mind me askin’?”
Marcus looks over at you and then checks his watch. “Nine hours now?” He asks, looking over at you for confirmation. “At least that’s how long we’ve known each other.”
“Well, shoot.” The waitress laughs when both you and Marcus do, and easily excuses herself to grab Marcus a complete wine list when he asks for it.
“Nine hours strong.” You grin at him with flushed cheeks.
“I mean, I have to say that we are doing really well for nine hours.” He tells you. “We’ve found a mutual background and established our communication.”
“And you were the talk of the store after you left.” You tell him with a grin, knowing that it’s completely beside the point but still finding it fun.
“How so?” The waitress returns with the wine menu and Marcus quickly picks out one of his favorite sweet reds and looks towards you for the answer.
“Anyone redoing an entire house is always worth talking about.” You reason, taking a sip from the water glass in front of you. “Plus…I came back from lunch grinning like an idiot…”
“Grinning like an idiot, huh?” He asks, grinning like one himself right now. “Kind of like how I absolutely wasn’t dancing around my condo like an idiot while I unpacked all the shit I bought from this pretty sexy girl I met at the store?”
“Kind of exactly like that.” The image he presents with that is playful and dreamy, and your grin spreads wider. “I’m almost afraid to ask if you’re a good dancer.”
“Formal? I won’t step on your toes.” Marcus admits. “Amanda always said that for someone who could fuck I had zerorhythm.”
“Thank God.” You groan dramatically. “For a second I thought you were going to say you were a childhood ballroom champ or something. Considering you’re already pretty much perfect, that would have just been completely over the top.”
Marcus throws his head back and laughs, making the waitress grin as she comes up to the table again with the bottle to pour glasses for both of you. “Well at least you two are enjoying yourselves.” She says, sending you a wink.
“It’s refreshing to find out that he’s not textbook perfect, that’s all.” You shake your head at the waitress as if to tell her how ridiculous it is that he is so close to perfect, and listen with interest while she explains exactly how your very unique dinner will be served.
“That sounds incredible.” Marcus looks over to you and nods towards the buffet. “You want to go get your salad? I hear they also have an amazing lobster bisque.”
“There is nothing about this meal that doesn’t sound perfect.” And amusingly, it even hits on the ‘nerd’ qualification for a date, because you’ve learned an entire new genre of steakhouse operations.
He slides out of the booth and cheekily holds his hand out to you. “My lady, heaven on a buffet awaits. Shall we feast?”
You barely manage to cover your mouth, acutely aware that the couples at the surrounding tables won’t find your snort as endearing as Marcus does, and you reach to take his hand. “We shall,” you agree, mimicking his tone between giggles.
He helps you up and holds on to your waist while you both shuffle over to the buffet. Cheese slices, stuffed olives, pasta salads and everything to make a real salad are accompanied by the bisque, some rice and black beans with plantains that smells amazing, and the little cheese breads that you’ll later find out are amazing. Marcus groans at the plate piled high and grins at you. “This isn’t even the meat selection yet.” He reminds you.
“We’re going to pass out as soon as you park your car at home,” you predict, admitting to yourself that it would be fairly hilarious if it happened.
“Shit.” He huffs, shaking his head. “That just means that I’ve got to make up for it when we wake up.”
“Baby, a good date and a good sleep cuddled up together isn’t anything that needs to be made up for.” Of course, you’re fully and eagerly looking forward to having him in your bed, but you don’t want to give him the mistaken impression that it’s the only interest you have in him.
He flashes you a wink as both of you make your way back to the table. “So you don’t want to wake up with having your clit sucked on. Got it.”
“Oh, fuck off.” You hiss under your breath, with an absolute pout in your voice. “I’m just trying to behave! God, that thought is going to hauntme….”
His laugh is a little dark, a little mean, but he loves the way that you pout over the idea. Both of you sit back down and immediately a server comes over with steaks on a spit to ask if you would like some. Marcus nodes right away and holds out his other plate for the man.
Dinner is an elaborate, delicious, substantive dance, and you’re predictably stuffed by the end of it. The wine Marcus chose is far beyond your education level and a little extra tasty because of it, making you feel that much more spoiled. Halfway through your dinner you had both agreed that you would have to do this again, and that you would be tracking down a copycat recipe for the cheese bread to try making at home. You haven’t stopped laughing, teasing, or grinning like smitten teenagers all night. It is, in every way, an absolutely perfect night.
There’s a light breeze as he walks you to the car. Both of you are almost overly full, but it had been worth it. He looks over at you with a smile at the way you automatically turn your head and look at him. “I think that we can call this a success.” He comments lightly, swinging your hand that is encompassed in his.
“Without hesitation.” It’s past chilly and has officially become cold, and you tuck your free arm around yourself for a little extra warmth on the way to the car. “And I think we can both safely skip breakfast because we’ll still be full in the morning.”
Marcus doesn’t care that it’s only another hundred feet to the car. He slips his hand out of yours and starts shrugging off his leather jacket and stopping you so he can hold it out for you to put on. “Here.”
“I’m fine.” You protest, but it’s hollow and you both know it. The jacket is around your shoulders before you can even finish the thought and the warmth it retains from his body makes you shiver counterintuitively before you start to warm up. “I…thank you…serves me right for trying to be cute above all else.”
“Youare cute. And now I get to be a gentleman and give you my jacket so you aren’t cold when I kiss you.” He smirks and turns you towards the car again.
“Ohright,” you hum, as though you could ever forget exactly how amazing it had been to kiss him. “We still need to compare and contrast.”
He waits until he gets you to the car, the door right at your elbow when he turns to you and cups your cheek just like it said he would. There is an anticipation in this air, and he takes just a few seconds to absorb the sight of you looking at him. The shine of the moon on your face is perfect where he had parked away from the light posts and yet he could see the want in your eyes clearly. “Beautiful.” He whispers before he leans in and kisses you with far more assertion than he would have if that kiss in the movie theater hadn’t happened.
His version of a first kiss is definitely smoother. You’ll give him that. Smooth and deep and delicious - and not just because of the wine. One of your hands easily finds its way to his chest, feeling the way his heart beats out of control when you begin to kiss him back.
He softly encourages you to open up, tongue sliding along your lips before you open your mouth and let him inside. Marcus can’t help the groan that rises from his chest when his tongue touches against yours, almost shyly at first before moving with more confidence and determination as the kiss progresses.
Completely enveloped in the moment, a plane could have crashed in the restaurant parking lot, and you wouldn’t have noticed beyond thinking that the earth shaking under your feet was from how good and right kissing Marcus feels. His tongue slides against yours and his breathing stutters and his heart skips a beat in his chest. His hand curls around the nape of your neck and he tugs you just a fraction closer. It’s magical, the feeling of your lips against his and for a moment, he never wants this kiss to end.
The rest of the world may not exist, and would not have at all, except for a distant cat call from another part of the parking lot and you break from Marcus with an embarrassed giggle. Marcus chuckles and turns to give the person a wave before he turns back to you. “Home, beautiful?” He asks softly, reaching for the door handle to the car.
“Home.” The fingers you have twined in his shirt pull him back to you for another, shorter kiss before pulling away fully.
He hums and holds the door open for you, not closing it until you are completely inside before hurrying around the front so he can jump behind the wheel. Nerves and excitement are thrumming in his system but he’s not going to assume he’s being invited into your bed, not even after being told. You can always change your mind and he will respect that.
In the front seat of his car, wrapped up in his leather jacket, your lips twist into a smile when he climbs back in beside you. “I think we have to call it a tie,” you tell him sheepishly. “Since both kisses were definitely, wow.”
“Yes, they were.” Marcus agrees, turning the engine over and picking up your hand quickly to press a kiss to the back of it before letting it go so he can put the car into gear.
“I guess we’ll just have to collect more data. You know…experiment.” You squeeze his hand lightly in yours. “For science.”
He throws you a small smirk and nods. “For science.” He agrees before he decides to change the subject. “So, what do you normally do when you get off of work? Your wind down routine?”
“Depends on the day.” Hands still linked together, your fingers tangle easily in his and keep him close while your heart beats louder and faster. “If I had a day shift, I’ll bring a book out to the garden before I start thinking about making dinner. But if I worked a later shift then I’ll just figure out something fast for dinner and turn on the TV.” You chuckle awkwardly. “That makes me sound really boring. Maybe I am. But I live with my best friend so it’s not like I’m running out for drinks with her every night. We do that in the garden.”
“Then I guess I’m boring too.” Marcus assures you. “I’m too old to try and go out every night. Especially after a long day at work.”
“I would imagine that your days are a lot more demanding than mine.” Which is nothing against your job, just an acknowledgement of the fact that his job is higher stress.
“Sleeping in on days off is a particularly favorite hobby of mine.” He admits, knowing that those have been few and far between the last few months. “That’s why I wanted a good bed. I try to make it a rule not to get up except to pee until at least ten-thirty.”
“Sleep in and drip dry?” You guess, raising a scandalous eyebrow at him and flashing a grin.
“I know.” Marcus rolls his eyes playfully. “If I was an eccentric billionaire I would live on a private tropical island where I can sleep with the ocean breeze flowing over me and never wear clothes again. Just go for a swim and pad around nude.”
“Ohnoooo…” Laughing along with him, you won’t deny that you’re very interested to know exactly what that visual would look like. “Relaxation. That sounds just horrible. How will you eversurvive?”
I’ve been thinking about Marcus Pike who just ends up knowing you better than you know yourself
Like Marcus who can see your energy levels dipping in the middle of the work day and so swoops by with a coffee and snack, placing it on your table with a wink as he walks to his next meeting
Or who can see the tell tale signs of your migraine in the middle of dinner and straight away cancels the night of catching up on the series you’ve been watching in favour of laying in bed together as he reads to you using the smallest light he can find - after setting up your laptop in the office to work from home tomorrow of course
And how he notices you staring into the window of a bakers for a second too long to have been a passing glance, jumping in and buying whatever you had been looking at
Marcus who is just on high alert to all the small things because he wants to make your day easier or wants to make you smile
omg I love Marcus being so attentive!
thank you for writing and sharing this little drabble!
