another excerpt from a lunnelly fic that’s not happening
“I mean, you have to admit it’s weird,” Donnelly rants, failing pretty badly at whispering.
“It’s a —,” I hiccup into my next sip of beer, “coincidence.”
“No, there must be a reason. What exactly am I doing wrong? Help a guy out.”
“Even if people don’t know much about you, everyone knows Beckett’s straight.” I can’t hold back a laugh when he looks at me like I don’t make sense.
“Luna! They ship him with the other guys. Besides, it still doesn’t explain why it doesn’t happen to you and me.”
“People probably think you’re too basic for me,” I muse, lying back on the ground around my pool.
He scoffs, looking down at me with a huge grin. “Maybe they know I’m out of your league.”
I am 98% sure he’s joking, so I try not to take it to heart.
“Well, they haven’t seen your face between my legs,” I think it’s safe to say I’m pretty drunk.
Donnelly and I had had quite a few beers (well, I had quite a few; he drank one) in a convenience store parking lot around my gated neighborhood before walking all the way back. We were both wearing enormous The Carraways black hoodies and even though he was supposed to be off-duty (Beckett was at his parents’) and I was supposed to be in bed (Quinn was off-duty since I was staying in), Donnelly had both his gun and his security radio on him.
Had I not written at least a dozen fics where he professes his undying love, I’d say our friends with benefits thing was going great.
“Luna Hale!” he says in a mocking reprehensive tone.
“Paul Donnelly!” I imitate, making him roll his eyes with a smile.
He smiles back at me for a second and then turns serious. “Maybe you should go inside. We’re being loud and your dad—“
“Let’s go out again. I’ll come back when you have to meet Beckett.”
“Hey, I already made a thousand mistakes by having that beer while being in your detail, so—“
“My detail? You’re not my bodyguard.” I sit up, raising my eyebrows. I feel the single star sticker on my cheek moving.
“No, but tonight I was supposed to be and—“
“I thought we were going out.”
“Stop cutting me off, Luna.”
Donnelly gets up and extends me a hand so I can do the same. I clasp his hand doing my best to look angry, but he’s just grinning at me.
“I’ll see you soon, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried, I’m—“
I hear a door opening and before we can move, there’s a voice behind us. “Luna?”
Fuck.
I don’t even have time to worry about the irritation in my father’s voice because suddenly he sounds confused. “Donnelly? Is that you?”
Paul pushes his hood back. “Yes, sir. That’s me.”
He manages to sound sober, serious and responsible; all things I’m not.
“Don’t ‘sir’ me. What are you doing here?” Dad looks down at my empty bottle of beer beside the pool. “You went out? What the fuck, Luna? Where’s Quinn?”
My mind goes in a million directions; I’m very grateful there’s only one beer in sight, which makes the whole situation seem a lot less suspicious. At least when it comes to the whole Luna-and-Donnelly thing. Is that even a thing? But I also don’t know how to explain this shit to my dad, additional beer or not.
“Mr. Hale, look —“
I have no idea what’s going through my dad’s head, but Loren Hale has a look. The look is an actual thing and even if I get it too often, I’m already dreading this. He’s about to go all threatening and murderous on Donnelly’s ass and even Donnelly knows it, judging from his cringing face. So I try to make it better.
“Quinn is dead.”
Ok, I made it worse.
“Quinn is what now?” Dad, who was trying to speak quietly (he probably doesn’t want to worry mom, which is sweet and makes me feel bad), almost screams at me.
Paul seems to be holding in laughter. Or maybe he’s angry. It’s kind of hard to tell because it’s dark.
“Not literally, sir,” there’s a sharp glare in his direction so he adds, “I mean, Mr. Loren. Mr. Hale.”
“In what way can he be fucking dead?”
“He’s… y’know. Sick. Man down. Dead, as the military would say.”
“Why the hell would the military say that?” Donnelly hisses as if my dad weren’t able to hear him.
“Soldiers die all the time,” I clarify.
“Not for being sick, Luna!”
“Okay, what the fuck?” Dad is starting to look kind of scary. Maybe really fucking scary if you’re not his child, but I’ve been in this ride way too many times to be freaked out like Donnelly is.
“I’m filling in for Quinn,” is the reply he goes with it. It makes me feel funny, but not in a nice way.
“Because,” Loren Hale says in his aggressive sarcasm-filled voice, “he is, as the military would say, dead.”
“Yep.” I chime in. “Deceased. That’s Quinn.”
“Why you?” Dad asks Paul, ignoring me.
“I was available… sir.”
“So was every other bodyguard to a Cobalt kid, I suppose. Not to mention Sullivan’s, or anyone in goddamn Alpha. Why you?”
“Akara had lead stuff to do,” he starts rambling, “Luna has an Omega bodyguard so why would we bother going to Alpha for help?”
“Oliveira and Moretti are in Omega.”
“Oliveira and Moretti didn’t want to miss their nights off. They have lives.”
“Don’t you?”
If we were in a fic, he would say “Luna is my life” and we’d kiss. But in real life, my dad doesn’t even let him speak.
“I’ll let it go. You can leave and not miss your night off. Luna, come inside.”
I look at Donnelly and he looks back at me.
“Do we have a fucking problem?”
“No, Mr. Loren. I mean, fuck. Mr. Hale.”
Lights flicker on upstairs, probably from Kinney’s room.
“Unbelievable,” dad mutters, walking inside, but leaving the door open behind him.
“Sorry,” I mumble, but Donnelly is grinning.
“I will 100% tattoo the sentence ‘as the military would say’ in my own ass. Maybe yours too.”
“We’ll have matching ass tattoos?” My smile is hurting my face. The star sticker actually falls off.
Paul Donnelly: 27-yr-old bodyguard, former tattooist, team member of Security Force Omega
Luna Hale: 19-yr-old storyteller, wannabe alien
“In the darkened corner of the pub, Luna Hale is dirty-dancing with Donnelly. The kind of sloppy dancing you’d see at closing times from trashed guys and girls.
But her and him—they’re completely sober.
He cups her ass with two hands, holding her like I’m holding Jane, only she bounces on his lap to the beat of the music, and he sings the blaring song with Luna.”
