What Happened To Belen? Part Two
What Happened to Belen? Part Two
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Triggers: profanity, pornography, smoking, attempts at Spanish, contemporary canon for "Narcos" character, fainting, discussions of the book "What Happened to Belen" which involve topics of abortion, miscarriage, homicide, women's rights, medical malpractice, judicial injustice, menstruation, harassment etc...
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Words: 5k
“Take it outside” you muttered, standing quickly….too quickly, and nearly tripping over the base of the counter at your feet. Everything was so blindingly bright. Stars were beginning to enter your periphery once again, if you could just get some more Advil….Your thoughts started to slog slowly forward, as though on a malfunctioning assembly line, with your feet dragging haphazardly behind them.
“Maybe you should sit back down, hermosa…” Pena began, circling the counter to meet you. “Just get that out of my face!” you pushed your hand against Pena’s perspiration dotted chest, as a high pitched ringing sound drifted into your mind scape. What was happening? You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see straight. “Hermosa, you’re white as a sheet” but Pena’s voice was nearly inaudible as you focused tightly on the mustache decorating his plump lips. They were moving slowly, SO slowly before the power went out, leaving everything pitch black and sedate....
“Hot as hell out there, hermosa” he huffed, coughing slightly and rushing to help you with the stack of books. “So perhaps you can now tell me, what DID happen to Belen?”…he jested, the smell of nicotine tickling your nose pungently. Your stomach lurched slightly at the fragrance sensitivity. This Advil didn’t seem to be doing much, and your hormones were still raging out of control. You swallowed hard to down the rising bile in your throat, wondering if you wanted to slap Pena across the face or the ass first. “Perhaps I have overstayed my welcome, hermosa?” a concerned look crossed his face as he gauged your unknowable expression.
“No, not at all!” you rallied, wiping the sweat from your brow and attempting to regroup. Pena had been nothing but conciliatory; it was your body you seemed to be at war with.
“Let’s put you to work, agent…” you teased, motioning to the display case and putting your apron back on. “One of my favorite parts of the book is the description of the many women and organizations that rallied for Belen’s aid” you encouraged, returning with your book to the display counter and starting to judiciously display your books of choice.
“Excellent” Pena quipped, taking a step back to admire your burgeoning handiwork.
“At first, the word ‘abortion’ wasn’t even used in legal contexts. It couldn’t be written. What isn’t written does not exist. When in doubt, they used the word ‘homicide’. This didn’t happen all that long ago. In 2016 when Belen’s case first came to light, omitting the existence of abortions was part of the lexicon. But with the inclusion of women’s rights groups like the National Campaign for Abortion, representatives from Pan y Rosas, CLADEM and empathetic journalists, Belen’s story started to gain a voice”.
Pena picked up the book and read from the back cover, “Freedom for Belen! Sex ed so we can decide! Contraceptives avoid abortions! Legalize abortion! Save lives!”.
You gingerly kneeled down, stacking the books aesthetically, hopeful it might grab some attention. “You know, in Argentina, as in many places the world over, you have to make noise outside the country so that people at home will hear about it. A woman’s failure to choose motherhood, whatever the reason, instantly makes her a criminal. Women must reassert the right to say no to something unwanted, whether it’s a partner, a pregnancy, sex or a traditional way of life. They must reassert the right to say no to the social mandates of submission and obedience. And saying no to these things means saying yes to our bodies, our emotional lives, our sexuality, to our participation in society, work, politics and everywhere else” you wiped your hands on your apron admiring your work.
“Well done, hermosa” Pena observed, reading the rest of the book cover, “Belen, you’re not alone. Chin up, Belen we’re with you. We’re fighting for you and for women who’ve been unjustly incarcerated all over the world.” Pena paused to reflect momentarily. “I’m…embarrassed I didn’t know more…” he massaged the back of his neck awkwardly. “This isn’t just about women’s rights. It’s about justice, and I know a thing or two about that…” he placated.
You stood quickly and immediately realized your mistake as bright orbs of crackling energy drifted into your periphery and the smell of iron tickled your nose. Pena was at your side in an instant, hand lightly fixed at your waist, as you swayed unsteadily. “Hermosa?” his voice seemed to be coming from quite a distance away, as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose. “S-sorry, s-stood up too fast!” you deflected, leaning against him securely for a millisecond before returning to the counter, shaking your head from side to side. It WAS hot in here, and you were more embarrassed then ever at your momentary lapse. Menstruation was SUCH a drag, but you didn’t want to let on about your recent diagnosis. As if womanhood didn’t feel debilitating enough, you had already experienced years of struggle with endometriosis and were newly considering a hysterectomy. You didn’t find yourself in Belen’s position, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the helplessness she might have felt, judged by the medical community, government, society at large…and maybe even…herself. This was a piece of information you were determined to keep clandestine. Javier Pena’s eyes swam before you as his image coalesced into focus. “Did you hear me?” he gently asked again.
“Uh…sure….yes!” you piped up, immediately unsure of your response. He nodded curtly bringing you a stool and placing it behind the counter for your respite. “Perhaps my endless questions have needlessly exhausted you”. Your cheeks reddened with the heat AND embarrassment as you chastised yourself for existing. “I’m fine…just overheated is all” you huffed as Pena cleared his throat and sat back down across from you.
“So, what happened to Belen? How did she find redemption in such a storm of injustice?” he asked.
You sighed heavily, retrieving your book and flipping through the pages. “Well, at first she had to survive in the prison system. Family visits, challenging circumstances, holidays…This was an environment she had never been in before…”. You read,
“I kept walking around the prison and talking to women who were there for reasons unknown to me. I realized some are doing time for murder and others for stealing, and that many are inside because they covered for a partner or family member. Soledad told Belen about a young woman called Maria Magdalena. The doctors who treated her at the hospital accused her of having an abortion. And that’s not right. medical staff have a duty of care”.
Pena dragged his thumb across his bottom lip pensively, starting to bite at the cuticles. “Seems like it all happened so fast. One minute she was living her life, the next…” his voice trailed off reflexively.
“There was no DNA evidence. The report mentioned more than one fetus, and none of them were preserved. There were no records showing Belen’s admission even. There is no evidence, there is simply none. The doctors who accused her were still living their lives. The men who convicted her continued like nothing happened.”
“And I’m still in here” Belen says. All I’m asking is for them to reevaluate the case. They don’t know what it’s like waking up in the same place every day, being away from your family ever day. They’re in their homes. They don’t know what it’s like to have to file a request just to see a friend. The judges are in their chambers, smoking, drinking coffee. And they have to live with the fact that they sentenced me to this place. What happened to me happened because I couldn’t get 20,000 pesos in less than forty eight hours. If I’d had the money, I could’ve defended myself. But I thought, why should I have to pay money when I did nothing wrong? Worse still, they tried to pass off a miscarriage as a murder, seemingly for political gain. ”
Pena had run out of words, reaching into his back pocket for another cigarette and rolling it between his fingers.
“In our society, when people wan to hide something, they find someone to blame. They point their fingers at those who can’t defend themselves, and they accuse them. They don’t listen to them. These people become guilty because of their faces, their clothes, because they’re poor or because they’re women.”
“Luckily, Soledad began to identify the discrepancies at Belen’s first trial,
“The doctor has a legal obligation to maintain confidentiality unless expressly told otherwise by the patient. The patent’s silence can in no way be seen to provide a valid ad rational motive to breach the physician’s duty to professional confidentiality. All the evidence adduced in Belen’s case should have been inadmissible. The physician’s and midwives’ testimonies were in themselves a crime. She was convicted without valid evidence. In addition, no one can be compelled to testify against himself. It is a cruel, latent and ignoble violation of this precept to use the distress of a women who had an abortion to report her crime, whether wrenched via exploited confession or duress through a state of physical and spiritual helplessness. Moreover, public interest cannot justify so inhuman a dilemma; prison or death.”
“Finally, some common sense!” Pena exclaimed, dangling the cigarette in his mouth and immediately removing it under your scolding stare. “Lo siento, hermosa, continue por favor…” he returned to delicately fingering the unused smoke.
“At the time, Belen did not know she was pregnant, nor did she look pregnant. She never stopped menstruating and felt no movement in her belly, her body was normal and her breasts hadn’t grown. She and her mother went to the emergency room for the abdominal pain. A person who wants to commit homicide—a person who knows they’re going to have a baby and is determined to cause their death simply doesn’t go to a hospital”
“Obviously!” Pena retorted, grabbing for his lighter and subsequently tossing it on the counter impotently.
You shook your head reprimandingly, “It was nearly two years of waiting and resolving before Belen had her second day in court, facing her original sentence, this time with Soledad at her side. Belen recounts,
“First of all, I’d like to say I didn’t know I was pregnant, so you can’t tell me that I committed the atrocity that I’m being accused of. How can you say I cut the umbilical cord? Where is the DNA evidence that proves the discovered fetus of 36 weeks was mine? They gave me an intravenous sedative and when I awoke, I was covered in blood and police officers were examining my private parts. No one looked after me, before treating me like I was a murderer…”
These trials end up being more moral than legal, ironically enough as God is said to serve in the capital. The morning in court when the judges read her the grounds for her conviction, Belen cries again. Unlike the day her verdict was read the courthouse i packed because now people in Tucuman know what is happening. “Calm down, no one can see you anymore” a prison guard encourages. Now raise your head and look outside. All these people are here for you”. Belen sits up, at first fearfully. Finally, Belen relaxes. she cries, but this it’s different”.
“Some of us can raise our voices and have the privilege of health care access. Others can afford to become mothers. Others experience the same troubles Belen did but are less formatted because their cases aren’t talked about, and so they are still in prison. Then there are others who aren’t here to tell their stories today, because they died trying, during miscarriage. This issue moves me. A great deal. I still don’t understand how it is that in the 21st century we women still have to relinquish our independence and our freedom to a society that imposes its way of life on us. Why do we have to be the talk of the town? Why do we have to air our most private decisions?”.
Pena gulped in silence, possibly reflecting on his own private decisions, playing with the lighter in front of him. You grabbed a tissue from your apron and wiped your brow profusely. The AC had been broken all week, but it was supposed to be getting cooler, not hotter. The words of the book began to blur and dance in front of you, as you put a wearied hand over your eyes. “What time does your shift end?” Pena asked, already aware of how propositional his question sounded, but your countenance was pale and blanched as compared to the start of the day. Something was obviously wrong, but he didn’t want to leave you alone in whatever plight you found yourself.
Unhearing, you sallied forth. “Where was I?” you blinked, squinting at the book with determination. “Eventually she has her day in court, and things start to change slowly but surely.
“Belen starts to receive support from everyone around her at the correctional facility, online and even abroad, The organizations put together an online campaign to denounce the press’ persecution of Belen and call for people to leave her alone. The campaign consisted of people taking selfies with a sign that says are you looking for Belen? I’m Belen. Men and women of all ages, some angry, others amused, some bearded, others very young, hold the same sign and post it online with a caption—‘They’re trying to infringe on her privacy, to see her face. But what they don’t realize is that Belen isn’t just one person. She thousands! Belen is all of us!’”
Pena leaned back against the stool beaming momentarily, before absentmindedly lighting the cigarette in front of him and taking a deep drag. “Victory” he puffed before viewing your incredulous face. His expression immediately fell with chagrin, considering how to snub out the cigarette, whilst desperately inhaling. “Lo siento, hermosa” he mumbled into the cigarette, possibly trying to inhale it in one draft. He looked towards the front door, considering an ill-timed exit before taking in your pained look. The fragrant aroma of the cigarette usually would have been fine, but your head was pounding and your abdomen was irritatingly alight with menstrual cramps and distress.
“Take it outside” you muttered, standing quickly….too quickly, and nearly tripping over the base of the counter at your feet. Everything was so blindingly bright. Stars were beginning to enter your periphery once again, if you could just get some more Advil….Your thoughts started to slog slowly forward, as though on a malfunctioning assembly line, with your feet dragging haphazardly behind them.
“Maybe you should sit back down, hermosa…” Pena began, circling the counter to meet you.
“Just get that out of my face!” you pushed your hand against Pena’s perspiration dotted chest, as a high pitched ringing sound drifted into your mind scape. Oh shit, what was happening? You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see straight.
“Hermosa, you’re white as a sheet” but Pena’s voice was nearly inaudible as you focused tightly on the mustache decorating his plump lips. They were moving slowly, SO slowly before the power went out, leaving everything pitch black and sedate.
This was the WORST mattress you had ever been on, including the taut pillows. It felt hard as a rock. To say nothing of the nicotine infused fragrance of whatever hotel room you found yourself in. Your eyes blinked open hazily, taking in your surroundings. Why did this hotel room look exactly like a Barnes and Nobles?
“There she is” Pena’s voice was amplified to that of a megaphone as the tingling sensation in your arms and legs started to dissipate. You squinted up into the bright lights of the ceiling as Pena’s concerned expression drifted into your line of sight. You licked your lips to say something, but your mouth was as dry as cotton. Were you on the floor?
“Power outage?” you heard your voice rasp quietly, attempting to take stock of the situation.
“I guess you could say that” Pena chuckled softly, running a hand across your forehead. Oh my God, did you have your head on his thigh? You tried to sit up, but felt as heavy as an anvil, as he placed a hand behind your neck. “You sort of had a personal power outage, before fainting into my arms, hermosa” he smiled. “Had me worried, I nearly called the police”. You sank back down against his lap for a second, waiting for the disorientation to pass. “I’m a total ass, no more cigarettes this time, I promise” he apologized, placing a heavy hand on your forehead appraisingly before shrugging with helplessness. “This seemed preferable to books for pillows” he chuckled, the tinge of worry in his voice evident.
“Well this is embarrassing” you finally smirked, focused on breathing deeply and bringing your knees up slightly underneath you.
“Mierda…” he encouraged, leaning against the wall and finally relaxing. “It is your time of the month, no?”. You froze with apprehension at the intimacy of his observation, but quickly relaxed against his thigh once again.
“Guilty as charged” your cheeks blushed with a crimson hue. This had to be the strangest work day in the history of employment. You found yourself surprisingly grateful that you weren’t alone.
“You’re not the first woman I’ve made faint” Pena tried to tease as you scoffed good-naturedly. You took a look around at the smattering of books littering the floor. “You managed to bring down half the display case with you however” he noted, straining to reach for the copy of “What Happened to Belen” before settling back against the wall. You both sat in silence for a minute or two, thankful that no customers were entering the bookshop, as Pena thumbed through the book introspectively. You were surprised at the tenderness in his voice as he started to read Belen’s words to her supporters,
“Greetings to all the women, to the warriors, and to everyone who’s stood by me until now. I want to thank you for making my fight your own. Thank you for standing up for me, for making sure my voice and truth were heard. I was silent for two years. I couldn’t bring myself to talk. I was scared. They told me I would get life. They convicted me on hearsay alone, for being poor, for going to a public hospital, for not having the money to to a private clinic and hire a good lawyer. I haven’t been home or seen my family March 21st, 2014. They robbed me of so much. All I wanted was help and instead I was detained, surrounded by police officers and accusatory fingers. Two years and three months away form home. They took away my life! Did any of them wonder how I felt that night? They accused me and asked if I’d induced an abortion. My mother was mistreated, too. No one cared about me. She’s ignorant, she doesn’t know anything, they probably told themselves. Even though I said I hadn’t done anything, that I hadn’t killed anyone. I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I cry because of the injustice I’m experiencing. But I’m also calm, because I know I will get justice. I am stronger now, calmer. I never hurt anyone, never stole, never killed, I don’ know drugs. I’ve worked my whole life. I always did everything I was supposed to. I will forever be grateful to every who’s helped my voice be heard. I’m sending you all my love. It makes me so happy not be alone. Thank you and thank you again to all you women. Let us all fight and be heard so that no woman is imprisoned for abortion again. ow your struggle is my struggle, too”.
Pena’s soft baritone voice hummed quietly as you heard the dull traffic sounds outside. Dusk was starting to descend as you looked up into his face. You could have sworn you saw the smallest of tears glistening at the corner of his eye before he brushed it away, clearing his throat.
“Can you stand, hermosa?” he asked, sitting upright, your head still atop his lap.
“Let’s find out” you parried, his solid hand easing you forward and massaging the back of your neck deftly. A small moan escaped your lips as you tucked your legs beneath you.
“Long day” Pena observed, allowing his hand to drift to your back in slow, methodical circles. “Is this okay, hermosa?”
“More than okay” you realized, scratching at scalp and smiling tiredly. This work day had proven unexpectedly enjoyable, amidst an obstacle course of challenge. You leaned back towards him with a slightly dopey expression. “Thanks for your help, Pena”.
“We aim to please” the corner of Pena’s mouth drifted upwards, as he carefully stood to his feet, offering his hand once again in support. You felt a bit like Bambi at first, getting your legs beneath you and holding on to Pena’s steely grasp. Closing your eyes for clarity, you breathed in his warm fragrance of nicotine, cologne and sweat as Pena watched you intently.
“Nearly done with our story” you whispered, locking eyes with him and finally noticing his hand at your waist, moving in soothing circles.
“I almost don’t want it to end” he replied, licking his lips attentively. You looked towards the clock once again. What had started as a day of doldrums had nearly evaporated before you. One more hour before your shift was over. “Sit back down while I clear things up” he offered, setting you back on the stool definitively and collecting the books at your feet.
“I guess I can be grateful today that we didn’t defund the police” you tried to joke, but caught Pena’s apologetic visage.
“This story is a travesty” he grumbled, collecting the books and handing you the literature of the hour. “I’m as imperfect as the next man, but I joined the DEA to make a difference. Belen’s story is…an embarrassment. I wish I knew how to help”. He set the last of the books on the counter and leaned against it with dejection.
“It’s not all bad” you sighed, uncharacteristically reaching up to cup his face in the palm of your hand, and running a thumb against his five o’clock shadow. Pena’s eyes took on a new sheen of redemption as he took your hand in his. “Tell me” he agreed as you referenced the book once again.
“Finally after nearly three years, Belen is released from prison. She can now begin the long process of championing her government to make the necessary changes,
“The warden insists before her release, ‘You need to understand that you’re not a criminal. You have no reason to hide.” In the evening the cellblock breaks into song and applause. The sounds travel over the wall and infect the women who have been waiting outside since morning. The activists from the organizations form two lines to shield Belen from the cameras. They wear masks of white and green, but their expressions are the same; rigid, stern faces and masks featuring the words, “We are Belen”. Belen steps onto the street watching balloons float high in the sky. “This must be a dream” she wonders, but after two years, four months and twenty three days in prison, Belen gets back some of her freedom”.
Pena smiled, placing his hands on his hips defiantly, “Todo va bien”. He was looking resolutely at the ground and nodding definitively.
“Justice for all” you agreed, feeling tears spring to your eyes at the end of a long day. Stupid hormones. “Thanks to events like ‘Green Action Day’ and the printing of this book, Belen’s government begins the arduous process of lawmaking, and she remains timidly at the forefront.
“It is difficult to conceive of a sphere more ‘private’ than an individual’s own body. The right of individuals to prevent others from invading or interfering with that body is an essential component of a private life, where personal autonomy is paramount…as listed in the Constitution.” The prospects might seem tenuous, but Belen’s case was gaining more and more steam. The majority of women were in favor of legalizing abortion, while a majority of men were against it. Belen says,
“It’s been three years since I was released, and I feel enormously happy and grateful to everyone who helped me through the most difficult time of my life. Today, I am firm in my decision. I’m not the weak woman I was bak then, broken by a patriarchy that, 6 years ago, sentence me to 8 years in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. Now I am a strong woman pumping her arms in the air and calling for an end to the unjust imprisonment of women for abortions. It’s been three years since I was released and I am here, yelling at the top of my lungs; we can do it girls, the patriarch will fall!”
“Freedom fighter indeed” Pena observed, slamming a soft fist against the counter definitively. “It can’t be easy though…reclaiming her life after….everything….”
The fatigue was starting to catch up with you as you searched the book for your notes. “You’re right, the road to redemption is rarely an easy one” you acquiesced.
“She’s been having panic attacks. Then second she walks out of the house, she start shaking and feeling faint. Her heart races. She has regular fits of crying and rage. “It was like my body was still in prison, like it couldn’t get used to me being free. They told me to try therapy, but I could’t make it to the offices, because I got dizzy every time i tried to leave the house. My family helped me with that. And when I got frustrated they would be there to tell me everything was going to be alright. ‘You got out of prison, there’s no way you can’t get out of the house. Sometimes I wake up at night screaming “No, don’t take me! I didn’t do anything wrong!” When the Supreme Court finally issued the decision to exonerate she looks in the mirror and utters the words she would like to say to the whole world. Didn’t I tell you I was innocent?
Belen hasn’t been to a hospital in three years. She still has nightmares of physicians and police officers storming into the operating room. She still feels scared because of how she was treated that night, long ago. Yet she isn’t a fearful person. “One day I’ll probably have to tell people who I am, but I’m taking it slow for now”.
You took a deep breath, smiling at Pena in repose. “Belen has done so much to change the landscape of this discussion, not just in Argentina, but internationally as well. To know that there are other women, facing great struggle, but using their voices to take a stand…” you felt the emotion of the moment swirling within you, but decided to press on… “I know I already live such a privileged life, but you wouldn’t believe…”. Your voice cracked as it bent under the weight of recent challenge and a lump crept into your throat tightly. Pena grabbed your elbow firmly in solidarity.
“Steady, hermosa” he cautioned, stroking higher up to your shoulder with encouragement.
“It’s okay, I mean you’ve already seen me at my worst…Or my most unconscious!” a sound escaped from your lips somewhere between a cry and laugh as your body trembled in place. “The author even talks about the liberation of the women’s rights movement as it relates to women in the workplace. We’re no longer required to hide our sobs in the company bathroom” a big, fat tear rolled down your cheek as Pena lightly brushed it away.
“Fine by me” he whispered. “We all must bear the weight of our burdens, but this isn’t something you have to carry alone”. Your eyes widened with realization at his beautifully articulated point. He was right. In as much as it is our responsibility to articulate the challenge, it is our continued privilege to accept the support. You sniffled quietly as Pena gazed up at the clock knowingly.
“Looks like I’m your only customer for today” he observed softly, turning towards you and pulling you in for a tentative hug. You were about to protest before reconciling to the desire, wrapping your arms lightly around his waist, and trembling in his grasp.
“I wouldn’t have thought you so eloquent when we first met” you mumbled into his shirt, relaxing against his solid frame. Pena rested his head quietly atop yours, swaying a bit from side to side.
“I keep telling everyone that I read Playboy primarily for the articles…” he teased, pulling back to gaze at you pensively. “Time to close up shop” he brushed a few stray tears from your face once again before kissing you lightly on the forehead. The surprise that registered on your face seemed to delight him as he headed to the front door. Turning the sign to the the “CLOSED” position he caught a straggler that was approaching from the sidewalk. “I’m sorry we’re closed for the night!” he shouted through the window as they dejectedly shrugged their shoulders and walked away. He turned back to you gesturing apologetically as you giggled from the counter.
Pena helped you tidy up a bit before you headed back to the locker room to discard your apron and grab your things. Holding the book lovingly in your hands you met him in the foyer before exiting. “I don’t know how to ask this without sounding somewhat brazen…” Pena actually looked embarrassed, rubbing his hand at the back of his neck awkwardly. “But…could I see you home?” he finally confessed, his eyes a deep brown of sincerity. “Just…to make sure you’re okay…or…” he tripped haltingly over his words. It was a strange dichotomy to see such a confident man, momentarily unravelling.
“I’d like that” you smiled tiredly, taking his hand in yours and locking up the bookshop. His hand swung easily in your grasp as you headed to his car.
“So, what finally happened to Belen? Did she get the freedom she so richly deserved?” Pena asked, opening the car door for you and seating you inside.
“See for yourself”. You opened the book to the final chapter, referencing your favorite part;
“I woke up to a message that the Chamber of Deputies had approved the bill, legalizing abortion. I think it’ll become law because women’s suffering is finally out in the open. I learned to fight, little by little and from the bottom. Even though things weren’t easy for me when I moved to Buenos Aires, I began rebuilding my life from scratch, she told the journalist who interviewed her. I never imaged I’d be unjustly imprisoned for there years, for doing nothing, But wounds heal.”
“Two days from now will be the first anniversary of the date I effectively regained my freedom. How will I ever forget the day I set foot on the street again, with my angels! How will I ever forget how much they helped me! How will I ever forget all the women who spent hours waiting to welcome me outside! How will I forget my fellow inmates and the prison guards and the night we said goodbye! How will I ever forget my family, who was anxiously waiting for me! How will I ever forget that day! Everyone awaited my return after two and half years of unjust imprisonment. How will I ever forget that was the day…I WAS REBORN! How will I ever forget the day one of my angels put a pencil to paper and wrote down the words I couldn’t speak! A year after my release I can only give thanks to God and my angels. Who is it that said we don’t have angels? I can testify today that they exist. How will I ever forget that amidst all the anxiety and distress my angels were there with me, holding my hand and listening. I am eternally grateful. Thank you! Thanks to every woman and every organization, to the women’s movements and to all the people who did their part to help me, who put on their “Freedom For Belen” T-shirts and went into the street to fight for my freedom.”
“Excelente” Pena observed, starting the car and turning towards you. “Alright, hermosa, show me the way home” he smiled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear tenderly.
As the author states at the beginning of the book, “There are many people hiding stories we aren’t always prepared to hear.” But after spending the afternoon with Agent Pena and remembering the value of your own unique narrative, you at least were sure this was a story you wouldn’t soon forget.
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“Hey babe, I’m home!” you shouted from the doorway, noisily dropping your keys in the nearby ceramic and immediately removing your fragrant sneakers to air out. You LOVED your gym time, and today it showed. Your hair was hidden under a baseball cap and you were already vibrating from your post work out cold brew. The adrenaline was pumping and you wanted somewhere to put it. Breezing past the living room mirror with abandon you found Pedge in his nook of choice, having temporarily abandoned the book in his lap, eyes glazed over with rapt attention on the television.
“Good lookin’! Watcha got cookin’?” you grabbed the book, depositing it unceremoniously on the floor and unexpectedly straddling his lap. He doubled forward in surprise, grabbing you around the waist before you both fell over, grunting in amusement.
“Sorry” you blushed “I’m a little wound up…” Licking your lips you tasted the salty perspiration above. He smiled, removing your baseball cap as long, sweaty tresses revealed your hat hair. “I can see that.”
“Noooooo…” you wriggled on his lap playfully, grabbing the remote and turning off the tv.
“Good work out?”
“Yeah…” you drawled, suddenly embarrassed about your planned monologue. You always had lots of time to think on the treadmill, and plenty of blood pumping music to get you in the mood. By the time you arrived back home, Pedge often found you in a state of…agitation, but this time you were a woman with a mission, and it definitely involved him.
“Babe?” he questioned, pinching your lower lip between his fingers and pulling. “Getting a little quiet over there, anything you want to share with the class?”
You pouted, ever impressed he could seemingly read your every thought. “Well…I was reading this book…”
He leaned back in the recliner with a laughing sigh, just short of rolling his eyes, and moved both hands to your quads, holding you in place. “Yes?” You cleared your throat, suddenly nervous and rethinking your plan of attack. Your stomach made an awkward gurgling sound as you clasped your hands over your torso, embarrassed.
“Did you eat, yet?” he reprimanded, poking your belly button as you crumpled a little bit, giggling.
“No, I did not, my mind has been otherwise occupied if you must know….I was reading this book last night…and…it got me thinking…”
“Yes?”
“It got me thinking…about the Dom/Sub dynamic…”
“I gotta say, I’m really enjoying this recent academic pursuit of yours” he stuck one finger down your sports bra, bringing you a shade closer to his chest. Your heart began beating wildly as his finger dipped between your breasts, drawing his index finger back to his mouth and sucking on it voraciously. Excellent cardio. Losing whatever inhibitions you were saving, you blurted out “Let’s get rougher”.
Pedge’s eyes sparkled to twice their normal size, before taking on a blackish quality as he dead panned, “You vant me to suck your blood? AAAAAGHGHGHG!” comically sinking his teeth into your neck and nipping at your skin. You pounded his back, giggling fiercely, “STAWP! I’m serious, Pedge!”
He stopped his oral fixation long enough to return your gaze, now nose to nose. “Tell me more, hermosa. Ground rules, please.” You returned his energy with a low growl, furrowing your brows in faux consternation and then lightly biting his lower lip. That seemed to get his attention as you felt his hips shift beneath you, squirming slightly. You continued;
“You know, I don’t have any brothers…”
“Um. This is taking an unexpected turn.”
“Shut up, I don’t have any brothers OR sisters. No sibling rivalries, never really did sports, so running and dance were my main…physical expressions. And kick boxing!”
“You want to kick box?”
“Noooo…” you whined moving off his lap and sitting on the floor with exasperation.
Pedge leaned forward in his seat, now pouting on your behalf. “Babe, you’ve gotta use your words. Are we talking about role play, here? I mean, I love a good character arc. I can be the trainer, you can be the boxer. Or….I can be the sexy burglar, and you can be the sexy policewoman. Options, give me options…”.
You smiled at his endless attempts to entertain and lighten the mood. He lowered himself down to the floor and perched above you. “Do you want me to overpower you? Feel how strong I am?”
You paused, a growing awareness drifting over you. “I think I want to feel how strong…I…am!”
He grinned broadly before feigning collapse, and dropping his dead weight on top of you.
“Ooof! Pedge!” you grumbled, eyes popping. Not right this second! I just had a cold brew you big baby! I might pee all over you!”
His muffled voice vibrated into your sternum, “Mm ‘xcitd to ‘xplre tht toooo…”.
You tickled his ribs and stomach as he rolled over giggling into a ball. “REALLY? REALLY?” you laughed, now straddling him on the floor and pushing his arms up over his head. You paused to gaze at his contented expression, peppering kisses over his beard, lips and nose. “I don’t know, I’m such a weirdo. It’s not like I’m really afraid of hurting you, I just don’t know what my physical limits are…like…with myself. I need somebody safe to exercise them.”
“You just came from the gym, and you want MORE of a work out?” he teased.
“What can I say, I’m committed to our mutual health” you chuckled, circling your hips lightly over his gray sweatpants.
Pedge stifled a moan, biting his lower lip and grabbing your legs again. “Okay, so Dom/Sub dynamic? You want submission. That’s not gonna be hard for me…”
You pursed your lips together mischievously looking at the blush crawling up his sinewy neck, veins pulsing with excitement. “You seem plenty hard, mister. But…no…”
You paused your gyrations grasping his hands and pushing against them.
“Am I bench pressing you, now?” he seemed genuinely confused, if not curious.
“No, you goofball! It’s pointless to test my strength against pure acquiescence. Iron sharpens iron. I need a push back!”
“YOU VANT ME TO SUCK YOUR BLOOD!” he bellowed, grabbing your hair at the nape of your neck and licking a strip of salty seduction up your sternum.
You rested your hands on his stomach, rolling your eyes, but slightly distracted by the very tempting offer. Fingers moved to his waistband and untied the drawstring, as his kisses slowly became more languid, finally locking onto your lips, moving his mouth against yours. It never took much to disarm you, particularly when you were already so wound up, and your mouth parted easily for his tongue to lick hungrily inside.
You palmed his hardening length over the sweatpants, and delicately reached inside to assess the situation. Moving lower, you found his balls and gave a quick tug, as his breath caught in his throat.
“Please tell me you didn’t learn that at the gym…” he strained, starting to swell a bit more.
Your hand began moving in a circular motion, watching his eyelids flutter shut in response. After working his length for a bit, you gave another tug…
“Honey, you do that a third time, we’re not even gonna make it to the bedroom” he confessed, a little chagrined.
You clamped your thighs down on his hips, moving your other hand to the divot right below his Adam’s apple, grasping the back of his neck with your fingers. “Tell me to stop” you threatened, dragging the inner flesh of your lower lip across his throat. Pedge swallowed hard attempting to answer but it caught in his chest with a low growl. “Now who needs to use their words?” you teased, but were met with a mirrored hand to the throat, which nearly encapsulated it entirely. You locked eyes with one another for a split second.
“Bedroom”.
A steady stream of clothes could be found from the living room to the bedroom as you stickily helped one another out of your apparel. Tripping, stumbling, laughing and grasping you finally made it to the bed, squaring off, both completely naked.
“You’re never allowed to wear a sports bra again. That was like peeling a cantaloupe with my bare hands” he joked, grabbing you around the waist and squeezing hard. It nearly knocked the breath out of you, so you reached around with both hands, grabbing his ass.
A sudden intake of air as he clenched, knocking his length into your clit which sent an electric shock through your entire body. You threw your head back with enjoyment, as he caught you at the base of your neck, nibbling at your breasts. “I’m gonna bruise you like a peach if we’re not careful…”.
“Fine by me” you growled “I can give as good as I can take…”. You brought your forearm up to his neck, pushing him back on the bed, falling into him sloppily.
“Ow!” he cried, knocking into the headboard slightly, rubbing the back of his scalp.
“Oh babe! Shit! I’m so sorry!” you gasped, running your hands through his hair and checking for pain.
His eyes glazed over confusedly, “Where em ah? Who are all these peepel? Why am I wearing papah?” You began giggling quietly.
“Really? SNL? That Emmy shoulda been yours…”
He smirked, “First rule of rivalry, there are going to be a few bumps and bruises, but don’t let that throw…YOUR GAME!” he grabbed you around the waist, flipping your body over onto the bed, towering above you.
“Babe. That was SMOOTH. Wait. Did you hurt your lower back?”
He nodded, “Totally worth it”. Sinking his lips into yours and kissing you fiercely, you grabbed his love handles, migrating your hands lower and lower and lower…till your finger grazed over his perineum.
A small whimper left his lips tentatively. You paused.
“Did…we like that?” you ventured.
He pressed his lips tightly together with saucer like brown eyes. “Maybe”.
“Maybe, I should get the lube and keep an open mind or…we should take this party into the shower and try not to slip and slide?”
For once, you had struck the man dumbfounded, as he seemed to temporarily short circuit with available options. You slowly reached over to your bedside table to grab the lube, squirting a small amount on your fingers.
“Baby, if you’re still with us, I want you to talk with your body, and Ima listen, K?”
His eyebrows relaxed a little as he silently nodded. Opting for distraction, you latched onto his lips, all teeth and tongue, moving your jaw with his. You reached underneath, looping your hand to his backside, and tentatively probing. His mouth fell open in delight as you massaged his opening up and down.
Moving your head down his mid-drift, kissing a trail from sternum to shaft, you sat eye to eye with his length, smiling deviously and planting a small kiss at the tip. HIs eyes shot open with surprise.
Quivering with sensation he seemed already wrecked, “Babe…you hate that…”
“All’s fair in love and war” you thought, swirling your tongue in a circle that coincided with your probing finger. Pulsing in and out you took his tip in your mouth and began sucking with abandon.
Attempting to memorize the symphony of cascading profanity and lewd sounds that filled the room, you kept swirling and swirling in a circular motion. Admittedly you were both in completely uncharted territory, but you weren’t hearing any complaints. Trying to fit him further and further into your mouth you relished the salty musk that permeated your senses, now moving your finger in past the knuckle.
“Ohhhhhhh….” he sighed, mouth hanging open in ecstasy. “Honey, I’m not totally in controooool….right now…” he managed to eek out, as you bobbed your head up and down in conjunction with your finger.
You sighed contentedly, nodding your head in approval which only intensified the situation. Delicately sliding in a second finger with a scissoring effect you felt him tighten up in anticipation.
“Ohhhh, where do you want meeeeee?” he questioned, already flying high. Joyful with pride and satisfaction, you only managed to get out a small “Mmmmm…” before he was emptying inside your mouth. Quickly pulling out both fingers and moving your hands to the sides of his hips you swallowed and swallowed and swallowed as fast as you could, surprised at the salty liquid gold settling in your stomach.
Once his pulsing slowed to a halt, you pulled your mouth off his length with a satisfying pop, eliciting a small gasp from him before you both collapsed onto the bed in euphoria.
“That was new…” you rasped, licking your lips for the final dregs. You languidly turned your head to the side, checking in on your sparring partner. He was totally blissed out, smiling foolishly and rubbing his hands through his hair.
“What…just…happened?” he blearily asked, eyes heavy with the afterglow.
You winked, “Ready for round two?”
Pedro-Tober!
Awwww! Inspired by @alyssamariag and @norththelemon I've decided to feature curated pics/art, juxtaposed with fics and AI inspired Bitmoji. So much artistry to celebrate this October, we have our stylishly decorated hands full. Look at these amazing artists!
1: Official Movie Artwork by Reiner Meinerding 2. IG @amakuni_s 3. Nails by Christina Tran, Moody Met 4. Moody Silva 5. Esquire Bonus photographer Norman Jean Roy 6. My Darling Muse Pedro-Tober #2 Pedro-Tober #3 Pedro-Tober #4 Pedro-Tober #5
Dostoyevsky + The Dream
A huge thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful Coloring Book! I hope you will check out Pedge's Bookshop, as this rendering is based on the integration of "Crime and Punishment" themes that closely resemble "The Last of Us". I was really hesitant to finish this series, but I wanted to complete before Season 2. I guess I'll head over to Pedge's Cinema, or start a one-shot Pedge's Bookshop for "What Happened to Belen"? In the interim, I hope you enjoy the art and a prescient quote from Dostoyevsky himself I found very appropro for our LOU ongoing lore...
“He was in the hospital till after Easter. When he was better he remembered the dreams he had had while he was feverish and delirious. He dreamt that the whole world was condemned to a terrible new strange plague…Some new sort of microbes were attacking the bodies of men, but these microbes were endowed with intelligence and will. Men attacked by them became at once mad and furious…Whole villages, whole towns and peoples went mad from the infection. All were excited and did not understand one another. Each thought that he alone had the truth and was wretch looking at the others, beat himself on the beast, wept and wrung his hands. They did not know how to judge and could not agree what to consider evil and what good; they did not know who to blame, who to justify. Men killed each other in a sort of senseless spite. They accused one another, fought and killed each other. There were conflagrations and famine. All men and all things were involved in destruction. The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race, and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these men, no one had heard their words and their voices.”
Pike's Place Die Hard
This is it! The culmination of the last few months and we've finally arrived at this Christmas reveal. It wasn't until @burntheedges "Roll-a-Trope Challenge" that I managed to really sink my teeth into this delectable treat. What a delightful slow burn Winter Series with the assist of @inept-the-magnificent!
Triggers: finally, the smut we all deserve, profanity, emergency survival situation, sexy time confusion, reference to hysterectomy/pandemic, safe P in V, angsty angst and so much crying, you won't be disappointed...
Word Count: 12k (I don't know what happened...)
Series Masterlist
Hearing your feet crunch amidst the steadily falling snow, you squinted cautiously as Pike teetered precariously on a ladder against the cabin. Willing a Christmas Miracle of the grandest proportions you prayed that this was not the end, but only the beginning. Turning back to face the roaring ember which was once the woodshed, you were momentarily grateful for the heated repose. But it was only a matter of time before the blaze died down, and you and Pike found yourselves back in the apocalyptic blizzard that threatened more than your holiday plans.
Shifting uncomfortably in the icy winds, you rubbed your hands together, blowing into them for warmth and taking stock of the last 24 hours. The electricity was out. The generator had gone up in flames. Lacking reception and facing the quandary of downed telephone lines and crippled power cables you gazed dejectedly at Bessie the Hyundai who anthropomorphically sighed fifty feet down the road. The final straw had been the carbon monoxide poisoning. Your eyes shot back to Pike who was helplessly attempting to clear a large oak which had unceremoniously teetered into the side of the cabin, effectively covering the chimney and your final source of heat.
Well, maybe not the final source.
Pike shook his head in defeat, returning the ladder to its resting place and joining you aside the flickering flame, which had steadily diminished. The blizzard was determined to extinguish your dwindling sense of hope, if not your lives in the process. Anticipating his return, you marveled at his MacGyver-like repair of the shattered foyer window. You couldn’t be more grateful that your travels had brought you to Pike’s Place. You just wondered if the journey were ending so much sooner than either of you had intended.
Pike strode up beside you, bumping into your shoulder good naturedly and shouting above the din of the conflagration and freezing gales. “IT’S NO USE!” he shouted into your ear, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulder and swaying slightly against the icy, buffeting winds. “I CAN’T CLEAR ENOUGH OF THE LIMBS FOR US TO USE THE CHIMNEY! WE NEED ELECTRICITY IF WE’RE GOING TO SURVIVE!” You nodded in affirmation, already feeling the stinging affect of the frigidity against your cheeks and lips as the fire died down. “LET’S GET YOU INSIDE!” he exclaimed, taking your hand in his and trudging back to the stilled cabin. It might be cold, but at least it could shelter you from what was about to come. Pike kicked the door open with a flurry of wind and snow as you stooped down to light the remaining emergency candles that had blown out in the preceding minutes. Although immediately grateful for the cessation of the squall, an empty chill began to permeate your bones as Pike gathered the water, rations, pillows and blankets beside the now obsolete fireplace. Gazing over at the once happy Christmas Tree you both paused to catch your breath and assess the situation. Looking around you at the shattered window and Pike’s steely expression you felt a maelstrom of grief wash over you. Hugging yourself tightly you began to cry quietly as Pike’s face crumpled in empathy.
“Pink” he began, rushing to your side as you buried your face in his chest, your body quivering with emotion. “Sh…sh…it’s going to be okay. We’re going to get out of this. I’m going to get us out of this” he promised, swaying from side to side and stroking your hair gently. “I thought you told me excessive crying was off limits…for hydration sake” he managed to eek out, in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“O-only g-gingers are a-allowed to c-cryyyy…” you began to wail helplessly, as Pike chuckled into the crown of your head. “W-we exc-cel at d-dramatic bursts of energy…” you hiccuped, feeling your body relax in Pike’s embrace.
“That’s perfect. That’s just what we need to get this electricity going again” Pike hummed, pulling back to lift your chin with two, frosted fingers. “Take a deep breath for me, please?” he encouraged, rubbing warming circles into your back soothingly.
“O-one, I can h-hear the sounds of the wind outside…” you started, taking in Pike’s puzzled expression. “F-five s-senses…” you sniffled as Pike nodded in affirmation. “T-two…I can…s-see our b-beautiful C-Christmas Treeeeeeeee…” at this a fresh bout of sobs threatened your precarious self-control as Pike hugged you tightly, heading back to the fireplace as your legs dangled against his body loosely.
“And what can you smell?” he offered, carefully setting you down on the pile of pillows and blankets and reaching for a water bottle beside you.
“I c-can smell…” you paused, your face reddening slightly with the admission. “I can s-smell your…aftershave…and cologne…” you hiccuped again, biting back a small giggle of relief as Pike smiled humorously.
“Water, please” he unscrewed the top, tilting it towards your mouth and coaxing you to drink some carefully. Heaving a heavy sigh of concern he let you drink your fill, and then brought the water bottle to his own lips intimately. You reached out to touch his face, drawing your fingers over the stubble of his chin, and upwards to caress the wisps of hair framing his features. You sat together, slowly lowering your foreheads to one another, your breaths punctuated in the cold by plumes of warmth.
“What can you taste?” Pike finally rasped, eyes still closed in quiet contentment. Without thinking you feverishly pressed your lips to his, a new heat burgeoning in your core. You felt your lips melt into his, the sharp tingle of cold dissipating against the soft yearning of his kiss. His chiseled jaw worked against yours, parting your lips languidly for his tongue to enter. Merry fucking Christmas. This was the best blizzard you had ever endured. Lazy thoughts entered your mind for a millisecond before slowly drifting out as you enjoyed the warmth and affection of one another for what felt like hours. Breaking apart to catch your breath, you noticed a small bead of sweat condense at the corner of Pike’s forehead, reaching up to catch the single salty droplet you seductively brought it to your mouth, swallowing with intensity.
“And what can be touched?” you whispered, looking deeply into the swirling vortex of Pike’s sentimental eyes, which were slowly darkening in hue and desire. His Adam’s apple bobbed hungrily in his throat as he placed a hand across your sternum, feeling the thrumming flutter of your excited heart.
“I’m thinking of a way we can stay warm” he began, fingering the dangling zipper of your pink snowsuit.. “For survival?” he smiled self-deprecatingly, hoping this suggestion fell under the heading of Emergency Techniques 101.
You felt your cheeks blush under the steady lust of his gaze, lowering yourself down to the floor and beckoning him to lay beside you. “Have negotiations begun?” you grinned forlornly, wishing you found yourselves at a quiet, candle-lit dinner instead of fighting for your very lives.
“Does it help to say that I’ve been tested?” Pike blurted out, furrowing his brows in consternation. This was not his usual art of seduction, and he winced at the transactional directionality of the conversation.
“You watch your dirty mouth” you pouted, pinching Marcus at the stomach and enjoying his beleaguered expression.
“I’m sorry, I just want you to be comfortable…” he confessed, tilting his face to the side and watching your face for micro-expressions. “It seems to me body heat can be JUST that. It doesn’t have to be anything more…I think I can…control myself…” Pike admitted, biting his lower lip in supplication. This was a bizarre situation, to say the least.
“Well I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t…curious about the possibilities” you pondered. “It wasn’t a few hours ago I was flinging myself at you on the couch”. Pike grinned knowingly, teasing the zipper down an inch. “And in all honesty…I don’t kiss just ANYONE on the Art Squad”.
Pike nodded his head with feigned sobriety, lowering your zipper down to your navel, his pupils dilating with passion. “We’re not gonna do anything you don’t want…” his eyes shot up to yours questioningly, as you squinted back.
“Oh I want this” you cajoled, beginning to strip Pike of his winter jacket and pawing at the buttons on his sweater. You both raised yourself up on your knees, quickly peeling the layers back in the steadily dropping temperature of the cabin, and pausing to note the huffs of pluming passion contrasted in the night air.
“Are we doing this?” Pike questioned, unsure where to look or where to put his hands in this bizarre circumstance.
“I’m n-not…s-sure, but let’s do something before hypothermia sets in” your teeth chattered comically as a wave of shivers passed over your body.
Pike quickly pulled his sweater up and over his head revealing his honeyed and immediately prickling skin, as you brought your hands up to his broad shoulders. “What first?” he implored, desperation dotting his tone. You couldn’t be sure if it was the fire of passion or the frigidity of the cold, but either would do. Taking a millisecond to admire the warmth of his skin and his plush lower lip, you stalled in overwhelm.
“I don’t k-know I’ve never had sex in an apocalypse b-before!” you admitted self-deprecatingly. “Gawd, it’s been forever since I just had regular sex too!” you giggled, drawing your torso closer to his.
“This is maybe the worst seduction in human history, but I’m pretty sure we want to start with skin to skin contact…” Pike surmised, his eyes widening as he took in your curving frame. “C-can I…uh…touch you?”.
“I’m about to turn into a p-popsicle if you don’t!” you shuddered, smiling affectionately.
“Okay…here I come?” Pike questioned rapidly, lightly drawing his fingers around your waist and neck and drawing your body close to his, as tenderly as urgency would allow. You laughed in surprise as Pike’s tingling, cold fingers melted into your skin cautiously, immediately warming to the touch.
“C-cumming already? That was fast!” you joked, trying to quiet the small convulsions of your body soaking in the heat of Pike’s torso, accidentally knocking your hips against his awkwardly.
“I’m nothing if not enthusiastic” Pike disclosed, a crooked smile turning up the corners of this mouth. Pike started rubbing your back heatedly, attempting to draw more circulation, and you mirrored his pursuits. You rubbed up against his stubbled cheek, turning into his neck.
“You smell n-nice” you encouraged, moving your hands lower down to Pike’s waist and beginning to notice his semi-hard length bumping against your hip.
“Oh gawd, you smell amazing…” Pike moaned into your hair, trying to pace himself for whatever you preferred. “Is this better?” he asked, his movements slowing and broadening as the temperature began to increase incrementally.
“I think s-so?” you pondered, feeling your core warming with the sensation of human contact. It had been so long. You quite nearly forgot what it was like to enjoy someone’s body, or even your own, but you felt yourself starting to detach with the emotional over-stimulation. “C-can we just…maybe…hold each other for a while?” you winced, embarrassed at the seemingly infantile tone of voice, as Pike pulled back to look into your eyes and cup your face in his warming hands.
“We can do whatever you want…This moment is all about you…and any ‘us’ that you want”. The sincerity in Pike’s look was immediately disarming and grounding you to the moment, however bizarre it seemed. “Come here…” Pike pulled a blanket from beside you, up and over your heads, cocooning you in a soft tent. Wrapping your legs around his and intertwining as much as possible, Marcus drew his arms under the snowsuit against your bare back as you cradled your face into his neck. “We can just stay like this…” Pike suggested, trying to focus on the hardness of the cabin’s floor and not the burgeoning hardness of his length, as your lace covered, plush breasts were pressed against his chest. He took several stilling breaths as your bodies melted together softly, the warmth of your togetherness already exponentially expanding.
You attempted to mirror his breathing to quiet your own and soon found a contentedness in the humanity of the moment. The circumstances might have been odd, but the validity of your emotion was very real. You wanted this. You wanted him. And you wanted to survive. After a few minutes Pike’s voice cut through the silence, “Is this the part where I make a joke about how the cold might affect a hypothetical individual’s…um…girth?” his body tittered humorously, desperately trying to put you and himself at ease.
You shifted your head to admire his side profile and cinnamon skin, as your eyebrows shot up to your forehead. Reaching down, very carefully, your fingers ghosted over his hardening length, as it twitched under your grasp. You gulped loudly, suddenly concerned, “Uh, Pike…I haven’t done this in a while, but given our current circumstances, I’m not sure that’s the main challenge…” your eyes widened in comprehension. Pike buried his face into your chest, sighing heavily.
“Oh boy…I really like the color pink…” he mumbled into your breasts, as you rolled your eyes jovially at the admission.
“Well that’s good, so long as I don’t start turning blue…” you smirked, delighted that Pike seemed as eager as you were.
“I mean…I don’t wanna get ahead of myself…I don’t even have any condoms…” Pike groaned with forced chastity, swallowing hard against your sternum as he peppered kisses up to your neck. Your body froze, with more than the cold, as Pike pulled back to appraise your reaction.
“I’m sorry, was that a ridiculous assumption on my part?” he questioned, looking into your eyes for clarity. You bit your lower lip awkwardly, desperate to confide in him, but hesitant to broach the topic at this juncture. “Hey…It’s just me. It’s just us…” he stopped all of his ministrations, his breath fanning across your face soothingly. God, his lips were gorgeous. You couldn’t hardly concentrate on anything else. The explosion, the storm, the carbon monoxide poisoning…and all you could think about were this man’s lips.
“You won’t need a condom” your voice started to disappear, hoping you could convey the logistics of the moment, and still maintain the intimacy that teetered so precariously.
“Copy that” Pike tried to hide his disappointment, his eyes lowering to the ground respectfully and loosening his grasp with delicacy.
“No, no…I just mean…um…I had a…before the pandemic I needed…” you sighed with frustration and a modicum of defeat. “I had a hysterectomy” you pouted, embarrassed at the blunt revelation. Pike’s eyes registered a new softness as he tilted his head to look at your more closely.
“Are you…okay, now?” he sensitively probed. “Does that mean you don’t want to…?”
“OH I WANT” you clasped your hand over your mouth with chagrin as your cheeks reddened with self-consciousness. Pike chuckled, drawing his fingers up to your hand and taking it in his.
“There’s that pink…” he brushed his finger against your cheek, beaming affectionately. “Do you…want to show me?” he asked quizzically, unsure of his footing, but determined to provide whatever support he could, amidst the peculiar circumstances.
“Yes please…” you whispered, taking his hand and drawing it down the front of your body. Pike’s breath froze in the moment as you drew his fingers between your breasts rapturously, down your abdomen and lowering them just above your pubic bone. “Feel that?…” you asked, dragging his fingers across the feather-link pinkened scar, watching Pike’s mouth drop open with yearning. A small whimper left his lips as you drew his fingers lower still towards your heat. “Feel this?…” you probed, moving his digits over the wet patch of your underwear, as Pike’s fingers twitched involuntarily, eliciting an intake of air from you both.
“Is that for me?” Pike groaned, lowering his head into your neck and cupping your groin with his palm.
“Ohhhhhh shit….” you sighed. “Based on your…bearing…I think it might be primarily for ME, so you don’t split me in half” silently wondering how worried you should be.
“I can go slow” Pike gulped, relatively certain he spoke the truth. His enthusiasm had always seemed his downfall, but this moment was all about you. Your body. Your pleasure. Your survival. Your hips bucked up into his hand as his fingers ghosted over your clit, the fabric of your underwear creating a delicious friction.
“Oh gawd!” you squeaked, immediately self-conscious, but starting to focus on the burning hunger pulsing within you, and not the dire circumstances swirling outside.
“Oh God, good? Or oh God, bad?” Pike questioned, feathering his fingers over your heat in exploration.
“Ohhhhhhhh” you managed to get out before your eyelids fluttered closed in submission. Jesus Christ you should get snowed in more often. Oh. So much of the last four years felt like an emotional wasteland of desperation. Oh. All of it was crashing down with each healing pulse of Pike’s fingers. Oh. Over. And over. And over. Your mind was completely blank with pleasure, whitewashed as the pristine snow outside. Oh. Oh. Oh. You grabbed at whatever purchase you could find, the loop of his sweatpants, the heated forearm that slipped from your grasp…finally moving your hands upward to your own temples and dragging your fingers across your scalp. You thought you might shatter underneath the immediate intimacy of the moment, listening to Pike’s heavy breathing and trying to keep your eyes open in awareness.
“Honey, you’ve gotta talk to me, I’m flying blind here…” Pike pleaded, grinding his hips painfully into the side of yours and swallowing back his desperation.
It was all so much. You hadn’t been with anyone in years, and the sensations were so heightened in this surreal landscape, you felt like your body was euphorically careening out of control. If this was how you entered immortality, you could definitely think of worse ways to go. But there was a smaller, indulgent part of you that somehow wanted more. You didn’t know how you could want more than eternity, but you wanted to enjoy him. This was about so much more than survival. You wanted to enjoy your own humanity, and somehow, it was all slipping away from you. You wanted to give yourself, mind, soul and personhood to the beautiful man wrapped pliantly around your quivering form, but how could you give something that was spiraling out of your own consciousness?
“Pleeeeease…” you whined, arching your back off the ground and into Pike’s undulating body.
“Please what, honey? Tell me what you need…” Pike groaned into your ear, splaying a hand across your back.
The devastating reality crashed around you and before you could think, you heard your own faltering voice utter the word, “Stop”. You were eons away from your own self, but desperate to stay fully present in Pike’s passionate grasp. Marcus froze, pulling his hand away and looking deeply into your countenance with a confused expression.
“Stop? Did you say stop?” Pike whispered, drawing both hands up to your face and jolting you out of your disorienting reverie. With a gasp of stark realization, your eyes shot open in surprise, as you felt the unyielding support of the hard wooden floor beneath you. Every sense came rushing back in a myriad of confusing palettes. The cold, tingling ice hovering just outside your cozy cocoon. The heat of Pike’s breath, shuddering against your own. The sharp musk of your own arousal, buttering Pike’s fingers. And the salty release of your own tumult, bubbling to the surface in wracking sobs.
“I’m soooooorrry!” you wailed quietly, your mouth falling open in a silent cry, utilizing the entire force of your body to smash Marcus towards you abruptly. Gripping Pike aggressively with your legs you squeezed his torso towards you, pressing his hardened length into your hip, as he winced with sensitivity. You grabbed the back of his neck, digging your fingers into his hair and pulling tautly, feeling his entire body stiffen with confusion and slowly melt back into you with supplication.
“Wt’s h’ppng?” Pike mumbled awkwardly into your chest as your hiccups slowly morphed into clumsy laughter, shaking your head in disbelief. What were you doing? What kind of Hallmark movie special was this? You suddenly laughed out loud thinking of the incredulity of a National Geographic episode documenting this fumbling attempt at survival.
“Okay, we’re laughing, that’s good…I think? I feel like there are some…conflicting messages here…” Pike hesitantly started smiling with you, as his body relaxed fully into yours. “That wasn’t…” Pike squeezed himself out of your vice like grip just far enough to look into your face impishly. “Was that good for you?” he teased, contorting his face in a ridiculous expression.
‘Oh, my love!” you exclaimed, immediately clapping your hand over your mouth and dissolving into another fit of giggles. Pike’s face exploded into the light of a thousand stars with the possibility of your unheeded admission, collapsing his body weight back into you with relief and continued incredulity.
“I don’t understand what’s happening here, but I’m here for it” Pike confessed, shaking his head confusedly and stroking your hair with tenderness. “I seem to have a confusing affect on women…” he self-deprecatingly offered, struggling to understand the nuances of your unspoken reaction, and beginning to wipe the tears from your face.
“I’m…sorry…let me…see if I can explain” your laughter calmed down a bit as Pike patiently waited for your next move. In the interim, his gaze longingly drifted over your exposed form as he shut his eyes tightly, his body immediately reacting against you.
“Grandma Pike, Grandma Pike, Grandma Pike…” he started repeating, laughing to himself ashamedly, as you erupted into another fit of tittering. You both took a moment to breath, a thin sheen of perspiration already cooling against your goose-bumped skin.
“Why are you so amazing?” you finally asked, drawing your hands around his back and pressing your lips lightly to his. Humming into his mouth, you abandoned yourself to the contented sensations as your body regulated itself back to normalcy. After a few minutes, Pike paused to catch his breath, stretching out his arm for you to cradle your head against.
“Are we feeling warmer?” he sighed, turning his head towards you and smiling dopily.
“Oh yes, I’m definitely aglow with the Christmas spirit” you observed, turning a new idea around in your mind seductively. “Ummm…you know, turns out even during an apocalyptic blizzard, I seem to move slow as molasses”.
Pike interrupted with an exhortation of support. “It’s really fine” he drawled “ You know, sometimes I still feel so adolescent. Having you here, in my arms. I’m the luckiest guy in the world…” he grinned, the dimples in his cheeks cutting a devastating profile in the cabin’s candlelight. You sighed contentedly in his embrace, wrapping yourself in the cozy safety of one another. Listening to the bickering winds outside, you thought you could almost hear the strong pulse of Pike’s heartbeat beside you. Grounding you. Magnetically pulling you. Centering you.
“What if you got lucky in more ways than one?” you asked, drawing a finger lazily across Pike’s honeyed chest. Marcus paused, unsure of your meaning. “What if we just did YOU, tonight?” you bluntly offered, a devilish grin beginning to grace the corners of your mouth. Pike seemed to stall in confusion, finally sitting bolt upright and taking the blanket’s warmth with him in a tent of surprise. “PIKE!” you shouted, grabbing at his blanketed form and beckoning him back to the soft chrysalis of your own body. Pike wrapped you up in a tight embrace as you both snickered together.
“I can’t do that, Pink” he chuckled bashfully. The lady always cums first” he cast his eyes downward shyly, but nodding definitively.
“But what if…I asked? What if that’s what I wanted?” you timidly bit your lower lip, unsure if your request would resonate with him at all. Pike swallowed hard, his eyes widening to large saucers as he inquisitively stroked the sides of your face. “It might take me a minute to figure out what I want, but when I do…” you let the statement hang in the air openly.
“We’ll go slow?” Pike finally rasped, drawing a forefinger across your lower lip tentatively.
“Mmmm…slow” you repeated, dragging your hands down the front of his body and reaching his hips.
“I don’t wanna hurt you” he moaned into your chest, desperately trying to slow the yearnings of his body, but being unsuccessful.
“I think you’ve primed me MORE than enough, Art Squad” you agreed, feeling the sticky arousal of your own passions. Pulling Pike’s face into both hands you gulped sardonically, “FOR SURVIVAL”.
Pike returned the smile, “FOR SURVIVAL”. Moving his hands between your tangled bodies, he felt the slick of your heat between his fingers, groaning softly to himself with appreciation. Shifting his body to meet yours he removed his length from his pants, pumping himself a few times with your arousal. “Ready?” he winced, steeling himself for the entry.
“Ready or not, here we cum?” you tried to joke, breathing deeply in anticipation. Pike’s eyes were trained on you fixedly as he notched himself at your entrance. Your mouth fell open in awareness as he inched himself into you, achingly slowly. A whine caught in his throat as he gave himself over to the nestled feeling of your core pulsing around him. You realized you were holding your breath and tried to relax in his embrace, as you opened your eyes, taking in the euphoric expression painted across his face.
“Are you okay?” Pike hissed in through his mouth pointedly as you shifted your hips beneath him. Pausing in acceptance, you drew his shivering body towards you, erotically pulling your nails across his broad back.
“I’m here” you whispered into his ear, indulging in the connection of the moment, the world finally stilling around you. At peace. Calm. And alive. Oh so very alive.
“I’m not going to last long…” Pike gritted his teeth stubbornly, his brow furrowed in concentration one second, and relaxation the next.
“You’ve got me” you inhaled, the heat of your bodies sticking to one another with newfound perspiration, melting like two icicles in the warmth. Pike pulled out at least half way before slowly re-entering your body as tenderly as he could. You both moaned synergistically.
“Again” you pleaded, drinking in the indulgent expression on Pike’s countenance. He repeated his movements, gaining a rhythm in pulsing clarity.
“More” you encouraged, feeling his biceps taut beneath your fingertips, salty sweat dotting his forehead. Focusing completely on his reactions, his groans of pleasure and the beauty of his body, you felt yourself swept away in intimacy. Here, together, at the end of the world. There was no place you would rather be.
“Oh…please…” Pike whined, his gyrations powerful and languid, starting to falter with the effort of restraint. “Where do you want me?” he managed to ask through bouts of delight.
“I want everything” you growled, your focus a pinpoint of realization, heightened awareness to the pout of his lips, the crinkle in the corners of his eyes. “In me. Inside” you grasped at a hidden assertion you’d never previously articulated. “Cum for me” you begged, grasping his backside with both of your hands and drawing his hips towards you further.
Pike groaned loudly, finally giving in to the powerful urges, pulsing and stuttering within you as you fluttered around him. Feeling his entire body convulse against you was like a beam of light penetrating the darkness of the night. There was no storm. No cabin. No Pike. No you. Just Love. Enveloped in the warmth of love, you felt your heart blossom and expand within you. Love. Love. Love. It was a strange death of self, offering an almost immediate and illumined rebirth. Somehow, everything was going to be alright. You didn’t understand the details, and in this moment, you didn’t care. You were together, and that was all that mattered.
Pike finally stilled, collapsing his weight gently atop you as you gripped him with your knees. Drawing your fingers up and through his hair you felt his heartbeat pounding wildly against your chest, calmed by his deep breathing and smiling contentedly to yourself. Marcus moaned happily into your sternum, swallowing dryly as you wiped a small bead of sweat from the corner of his hairline.
He suddenly sat up, bleary eyed and swaying, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he gulped, blinking quickly and trying to focus on your dazed expression underneath the pile of blankets you were swathed beneath.
“Honey, if this is how you treat ALL the visitors at Pike’s Place, you’ve got a gold star establishment on your hands…” you teased, gripping his backside and squeezing tightly, feeling him twitch within you. Marcus hissed inward, eyelids half mast in euphoria, easing himself back atop you tenderly.
“On my hands and in my arms…” he mumbled, burying his face into your bosom and peppering feather-light kisses across your breasts affectionately. You chuckled with delight, listening to the swirling winds outside, and feeling PIke’s broad shoulders caging you in. Forming sweeping circles against his back, you relished in the incremental nuances of his relaxation, finally seeing his forehead devoid of worry and concern, as his breathing slowed to a steady, soothing rhythm. You kissed him tenderly at the crown of his head, surprised at how warm it had actually become. Survival 101 indeed.
Fairly certain that Pike was drifting off to sleep, you didn’t want to move a muscle. Housed in the contented cocoon of your sweetly entangled bodies, within the eye of the storm, you felt as though your emotions, your very soul had expanded beyond the cozy confines of the moment. Feeling the juxtaposition of Pike’s relaxed body, anchoring you to the floor, you mirrored his deep breathing, grounding yourself in the beautiful intimacy that two individuals can experience together, for so much more than survival. Keeping your body perfectly still your eyes tried to take in Marcus’ profile, serenely placid amidst the outside, buffeting winds, protected securely against your supple form. In your tender embrace you promised to care for this man the way he had cared for you. Whatever the future held, the experience of Love was transformational, allowing for so much more than just humanity’s survival. It was infinite. It was eternal. And you somehow felt as though you sacredly held it, in the palm of your hand.
Shaking your head slightly with chagrin, you watched Pike’s eyelids flutter in sleep, magnetically drawn into your own dreamscape. Silly thoughts for a silly girl, you mused. Talk about afterglow. And why not? In the place of a cheery hearth, the fire of your heart had ignited into a flame of more than just passion. You were basking in the very flame of Love; alight with the depth of Light itself.
You sighed contentedly with the re-discovery. It really is a wonderful life…
5-4-3-2-1…HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! The crowd was shouting euphorically around you as the familiar refrain of “Auld Lang Syne” played in the background, but you and Pike might as well have still been in the cozy cabin. Locked in one another’s embrace for the last hour on the dance floor, you couldn’t immediately pinpoint the difference between kissing and not kissing, the entire affair felt like a beautiful bubble of effervescence. You and Marcus kept swaying from side to side, looking deeply into one another’s eyes and not saying a word. You couldn’t believe how quickly the time had gone, here, in Washington D.C. With him. Seeing the massive building of the CIA Art Squad Division. Dropping into the Smithsonian every lunch break during your short visit to the East Coast. Ordering in Thai Food and watching old movies every evening, before making out or making love. It was like something from a Hallmark Movie, and it turned out, it wasn’t just limited to apocalyptic circumstances, or the cozy cocoon of Pike’s Place. It all felt like a dream, and a dream that was going to be ending far too soon.
“What are you thinking about” Pike mouthed, amidst the din of surrounding humanity.
“You” you whispered into his ear, feeling a slight shiver travel down his back and through his fingertips at your explorative touch. You kitten licked into his ear as he crumpled against you, burying his face in your shoulder and chuckling. You grasped him around the waist to help hide the burgeoning tent in his dress pants, though doubtful anyone would have paid it much mind. It was the start of a New Year, and the possibilities were endless. You felt a pang of regret, remembering the brevity of your stay, and wondering what the future might hold for the start of such a promising relationship. Couples were heading out to the balcony for a champagne toast, as the band started to wrap up the evening’s events, leaving you and Pike a bit more space on the dance floor.
“I know what I’m thinking about” Pike jested, drawing two fingers up to your chin and brushing a light kiss against your awaiting lips.
“Let me guess” you drawled, teasing your tongue at the underside of Pike’s top lip, as he happily obliged. “When Harry Met Sally” you joked, pulling back abruptly and touching your nose tenderly to his.
“How very dare you” Marcus smiled, pulling a strand of hair gently from your face and tucking it behind your ear. “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone” he began…
“…you want the rest of your life to start as SOON as possible” you finished, nibbling at his neck and enjoying the friction of his winter beard chaffing slightly at your reddened cheeks.
“Ohhh gawd…move in with me” Pike sighed, freezing slightly at the unbidden yearning in his tone, as you cocked your eyebrows sky high and ceased the characteristic couple’s sway.
“Excuuuse me?” you questioned, not entirely shocked at the enthusiastic show of romance, but immediately pondering the logistics of your answer. Pike winced with embarrassment, furrowing his brow in immediate consternation.
Biting his lower lip he immediately back-pedaled, “God, I’ve done it again” Pike shook his head forlornly, stepping back from you about a foot, and bringing his hand awkwardly to the back of his neck, as you felt the immediate loss of his body contact. “PLEASE…forget I said anything. DUMB OLD MARCUS STRIKES AGAIN!” Pike wouldn’t even meet your eyes as he attempted to downplay the very sweet and courageous offer, given his past relationship. “Did I not learn ANYTHING from Lisbon?” his voice cracked a bit as you noticed a soft sheen tinge his eyes, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…hang on Art Squad” you tiptoed forward, grasping him around the waist once again, as though approaching a wounded animal. Pike stood stiffly, his hand at his sides, but you felt an infinitesimal relaxation in his shoulders as you nuzzled up against his chest, attempting to avoid placing lipstick all over the starched armor. “I just need a second, you kind of surprised me…” you exhaled, casting a sideways glance to the couples and groups shuffling out of the dance hall with tittering laughter. “These last few days have been AMAZING…” you began, feeling Marcus pull against you with a large intake of air, and standing to his full height.
“Too soon. It was too soon. It was too much. I did it again…” he started rambling haphazardly as you clamped his lips shut with two fingers abruptly.
“Shut up” you rolled your eyes, attempting to diffuse, but inwardly oscillating between heightened sensitivity for Pike’s admission, and your own ebullience at the possibility. Could you permanently move to the East Coast? The pandemic had so isolated your friendships, adventures and possibilities, but were you finally looking into the silver lining? Almost ALL of your work was now remote. That’s the main reason you had unknowingly ventured to Pike’s Place to begin with. Was this a dream that could possibly come to fruition, not just in spite of your recent turmoil, but somehow BECAUSE of it? You thought back to your East Coast college days, and how much you had enjoyed the changing of seasons, the arts and culture…And pausing to look at the doe-eyed countenance of your boyfriend, whose mouth was still softly muffled by your small hand, you were looking at reason #1 for the next great adventure standing directly in front of you.
“Wht I MNT t sy wzzz…” Pike mumbled comedically into your hand as you started swaying from side to side in an acapella dance. Pike pouted dramatically, taking your hand away from his mouth and grasping it firmly in his own clasp.
“I love you” you whispered, as Pike halted completely in his tracks, grasping your face with both hands imploringly. “I. Love. You” you enunciated for effect, watching the pool of emotions swim in Pike’s longing eyes.
“Pink?” Pike’s voice echoed from outside your mind, juxtaposed by his unmoving mouth. You hummed happily in your sleep, sighing sweetly, “I love you, Pike”. Your eyelids fluttered quickly as Marcus drew a finger across your forehead, moving his thumb sensually to your mouth. Squinting into the dull sunlight, you blinked at Pike’s near angelic expression, as his eyes crinkled with acknowledgement and enjoyment in the cabin’s atmosphere.
“Oh!” you laughed, rubbing your eyes tiredly and immediately marveling at Pike’s smooth skinned torso. “Good morning!” you yawned, gathering the blankets up around you and stretching like a cat in the noonday. “Have we survived the apocalypse?” you asked, one eye closed in beleaguered submission.
“I don’t think I ever saw those techniques highlighted in ‘Doctor Zhivago’, but National Geographic should really be consulting US for the future…” Pike sighed, licking his thumb and rubbing the sleep from the corner of your eye.
You gasped in surprise at the continued intimacy, crumpling shyly against his penetrative gaze. This didn’t feel like a one night stand, even if Pike had no where to escape to…Well, except Washington D.C. Shit. Your face immediately crinkled with pain, reflecting on your recent dream.
“Hey, where’d you go?” Pike stilled momentarily, wrapping a tentative hand around your waist. “I hate to remind you that we’re still stuck in the tundra, so you’re not gonna be able to escape me that easily…” he teased, pinching your lower lip between two fingers pensively. “Any regrets?” he winced, closing his hand in a fist quickly and holding his breath. “I know I always get ahead of myself, but you might have one of the BEST reasons on the planet for no strings attached. I….” Pike rubbed at the back of his neck with a moment’s hesitation before plowing forward. “Ah hell, who am I kidding? I’ve spent the last 30 minutes watching you sleep and trying to pick out puppy names if we got a golden retriever…” he admitted with embarrassment. “Geez, maybe it should be a Siberian Husky…” he chuckled, before you unabashedly wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling and peppering kisses all over his face.
“This is REALLY forward of you” Pike teased, closing his eyes in submission and smiling with delight. “Here at Pike’s Place, we generally don’t fraternize with the clientele…” he couldn’t finish the ridiculous statement as your lips were passionately placed against his, moving against his mouth with supplication. Marcus sighed into your mouth, pulling back to tuck those pesky strands of hair behind your ears once again. “Do you want your Christmas present now?” he whispered. You held back a squeal of delight, clapping your hands together quickly.
“Yes please!” you begged, sitting up halfway and squinting at the unlit Christmas Tree and the lonely manilla envelope that had kept you both company all night. The cabin was still chilly, but you noticed the winds had significantly died down, the sun was shining brightly and the snowfall seemed to have at least paused. Perhaps you and Pike had rounded the corner of survival and were going to make it after all. Marcus pulled his nearby sweatpants on, shivering slightly without the warmth of your body pressed to him and tiptoed carefully to the tree, running back into your grabbing embrace, hugging the manila folder between the two of your bodies awkwardly. Already pouting at his more clothed form, you taunted, “Woooo! Take it off! Snowpacolypse be damned!"
Relishing the abrasive scratch of his developing beard against your neck, he tucked in further to the cloud of blankets and renewed warmth. “My life flashed before my eyes just now, I barely made it back to you…” he joked, licking a tickling trail up your neck before pausing retrospectively. “I’ve turned into George Bailey!” he brightened, taking in your beaming countenance.
“Okay, Mr. Cinema, you’ve got your audience right where you want them. What is this clandestine gift you’ve planned, without the benefit of a Macy’s or Santa himself? I doubt he could get in through the chimney last night…” you smirked, nose to nose with your holiday benefactor.
“Eh, it’s nothing much…” he immediately back-pedaled, unsure of your reaction. “You know how much I’m always doodling in my notebook…and…well, it’s no Picasso. And thank heavens, because I’m not sure how much you know about art history…” he began rambling before you placed the folder tenderly over his mouth. “Pike?” his doe eyes peeked mischievously over the rim of the manilla. “Hmph” he mumbled against it. “Shut up”. “Hmph” he acquiesced with twinkling eyes. Unable to wait a moment longer you opened the manilla folder as a single sheet of paper fluttered between the space of your bodies. Breathing inward, you marveled at the instantaneous recognition. It was you. Pike had sketched a portrait…of you. Your fingers traveled delicately over the surface of the paper, marveling at the detail and the care that had been invested in the unexpected gift.
“You told me the best gift you ever received was a re-appreciation of…yourself. And I couldn’t agree more!” he shrugged, crinkling his nose with self-deprecation. “But next year I’ll get you a bracelet or something, if this isn’t…” you interrupted him again with a barrage of kisses, before chastising, “you are the most ridiculous man I have ever met in my life”. He smiled affectionately, pecking you on the lips, “I love you too, Pink”.
Before you had a moment to react, several things transpired at once. The cabin abruptly blazed to life in a surprising spike of energy as the heater hesitantly clicked back to life, and the television renewed its fuzzy depiction of Bedford Falls. You and Pike gawked at one another effervescently, and before shouting in exclamation, the phone rang.
The phone rang?
You and Pike fumbled with the blankets, the folder and one another, jumping to your feet in a tangle of arms and legs, Marcus grabbing at his nearby sweater and you stuffing your legs haphazardly into the nearby snow suit. Giggling and chasing one another into the study, Pike nearly yanked the phone out of its socket, laughing uproariously, “Pike’s Place! We have no room at the inn right now, how may I direct your call?” he clamped his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle more laughter at your incredulous expression, waiting for his report.
“Absolutely” he agreed, nodding his head enthusiastically, “that sounds perfect. We’ll be waiting! Thanks again!” he hung up the phone peering at you enthusiastically.
“WELL?” you shouted gleefully, waiting for Pike’s explanation.
“Telemarketer” he pouted, blocking the onslaught of punches and tickles directed at his midriff. “Surrender! I surrender” he chuckled, grabbing you easily around the waist and pulling you into his frame. “That was the mechanic down the road” he mumbled into your ear, eliciting a tingling shiver down the length of your body. “He’s been calling everyone in the neighborhood now that the phone lines are back in operation. He just wanted to let us know the power is back on, and they’ve started making the rounds to check on everyone” Marcus ironically explained, turning you around in his grasp and kissing you on the nose. “Assuming the pipes have thawed, I’m thinking…pancakes?” he grinned broadly.
“Coffee” you whined, collapsing your hips against his and indulging in a tentative exploration of his morning…excitement.
“Coming up m’lady” he mumbled into your mouth, dragging you into the kitchen for breakfast.
Everything started to happen so quickly at that point. Pike began making the morning pancakes as you tidied up the warming cabin. Placing your portrait on the hearth you beamed excitedly at the relit Christmas Tree, and smiled with acknowledgement as George Bailey once against learnt the true meaning of the holidays. You were desperately trying to balance the bubbling excitement of your new lease on life, the promising declarations of Pike earlier that morning and your own burgeoning feelings of optimism. But what if you were wrong? What if the intensity of the last few days was all an illusion, and you were destined to return to the loneliness of your previous life? There was only one way to find out, you finally decided, watching Pike dance around the kitchen casually, sporting his cooking apron that said, “Who needs a hug?”
“Is it hot in here, or is that just me?” Pike twirled with pancakes plated, flashing a dazzling smile to your incredulous laughter.
“That’s definitely you, Art Squad, though it IS markedly warmer since…” your voice trailed off as flashes of the evening flickered in an unbidden montage across your mindscape. Your cheeks reddened with more than the newfound heat, as Pike deftly brought the pancakes and a cup of steaming joe to the table.
“M’lady” he gestured an extra flourish, dipping his thumb into his mouth as he caught a stray droplet of coffee, soon grabbing the defrosting syrup from the fridge. His kitchen waltz faltered for a millisecond as he flashed on the realization that you weren’t “his” at all. The intimacy of the night and intoxication of survival had only fueled his characteristic enthusiasm, but small cracks of reality were starting to dot the periphery of his thinking. You were both alive. You had survived the winter storm together, but had Pike unthinkingly placed both of you in another inescapable conundrum? There was nothing conventional or planned about the quick courtship of your emergency encounter, but the familiar stab of uncertainty cut at Pike like the butter knife he was retrieving from the utensils drawer. He painstakingly thought back to every word, every decision on the bumpy road of your mutual survival. You had fallen like a Christmas gift, into his very lap, but it all seemed too good to be true. Somehow, he had fucked up AGAIN. He had learned nothing from the relationship with Lisbon, and was once again planning a beautiful life with a woman who owed him absolutely nothing. The force of his own emotion was hanging like an anchor around his neck, but he couldn’t ask you to make still more sacrifices. You had already opened yourself up to him in so many tender and loving ways, he wasn’t going to entitle himself to something he could never deserve. He was heading to Washington D.C. and you were here in not-so-sunny California. Nothing had changed. An insurmountable stack of rationalities descended on Pike as he somberly sat down at the table, his mood noticeably dampened.
“Uh…here take the last of the syrup” he deflated, shoving it forward to your surprised expression as you noticed the tonal shift.
“Aw, what happened to Danny Kaye?” you pondered, “I thought I was gonna get a re-enactment of ‘White Christmas’ with my side of pancakes!” you chirped, buzzing tentatively with the excitement of the morning’s possibilities.
“Well, after last night, we don’t need any more snow to set the mood. That’s enough of a white Christmas for me…” Pike chuckled forlornly, clasping his hands defeatedly in his lap and pensively pursing his lips. He sighed with relief watching you practically inhale the fragrant beverage, your eyelids fluttering shut with enjoyment.
“Gawd, I’m gonna miss Pike’s Place…” you moaned rapturously, still oblivious to Marcus’ inner monologue and digging in to your pancakes with a child-like voracity. With your eyes shut to the world and all its obligations, you had missed the flicker of pain that shot across Pike’s face, as he picked at his own breakfast, suddenly without appetite.
“I’m not sure why…” Marcus mumbled, atypically depressed and shoving the food around his plate with a pout. “All I ever do is…fail” the words fell from his lips unintentionally as your eyes shot open with incredulity.
“WHT?” you nearly yelled, with a mouthful of food threatening to spew in his face. “R U insne?” you chomped quickly, trying not to choke and finally taking in Pike’s hunched shoulders and crumpled expression. You swallowed carefully, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“I’m sorry, did the hypothermia just set in retroactively, or am I hallucinating?” you joked, your forehead pinching upwards with disbelief. “Is there ANY scenario where I’m still alive WITHOUT Agent Pike?” you offered, still confused at his glaring lack of self-confidence. “I don’t wanna give you a big head or anything, but last night was…beneficial for many, many reasons…” you smirked, trying to get a read on Pike’s unknown meaning.
Enigmatically, your words seemed to have the unintentionally opposite effect, as Pike sank further still into dejection, his circumstantial oppression growing by the minute. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Under no circumstances could he return to the offices that Lisbon haunted, and his entire life had already been boxed and shipped to Washington D.C. He was more assured than ever of his professional passions, but how did that support you or the love that was starting to blossom in this epicenter of winter? How could he fix what he was accidentally breaking?
“I….” Pike’s voice cracked with the weighted heaviness of emotion. “I’m going to miss you too” he heaved a sigh of regret, casting a quick glance at the portrait displayed on the hearth. He couldn’t even take that with him, shaking his head helplessly. At least he could end this before breaking your heart as well.
“Don’t you want to know what your Christmas gift is?” you teased, until Pike pushed his uneaten plate harshly away.
“I need to end this now…” Pike bluntly stated, his face adopting a stoic, nearly unrecognizable mask of frigidity.
“What, breakfast?” you stalled, your heart lurching forward unexpectedly, catapulted faster than your brain could rally.
“This. Us….I need to end…us…”. The tree leaning against the cabin creaked sinisterly, Pike’s confession dousing the entire cabin in an ethereal, emotional cold.
“What?” you whispered, not believing your ears. Marcus had JUST been talking about plans and puppies…and pancakes. What had transpired in the last few minutes unbeknownst to you? This was so unlike the romantic persona you had come to know and…love…you started laughing awkwardly in disbelief. “Okay, very funny, Art Squad…” you ignored the heavy-laden pounding creeping up the back of your neck as the blood rushed to your ears uncomfortably.
“I’m serious, Pink, I can’t fail you again. If I had lost you…” Pike pressed his lips together harshly, stifling a sob. “I can’t ask you to…I don’t deserve…” he started rambling almost incoherently to himself, rubbing at his forehead desperately. “If I can’t keep you safe here at Pike’s Place, you have no business being with me anywhere else…” he mumbled under his breath, no longer making eye contact, his knee jerking sporadically under the table with anxiety.
What was happening? You felt your stomach drop sickeningly in your stomach, willing yourself not to retch, as a tight ball formed in the back of your throat. This was it. This was the exact nightmare you had been dreading since you arrived at Pike’s Place, but with every incremental step into Marcus’ optimism you had timidly left the sparse, armored existence of the pandemic. The feelings of betrayal, the isolation, the helplessness had all begun to vanish, but you felt your renewed self-confidence and resolve start to dissipate like the melting snow.
“You don’t….want this?” you rasped, tears annoyingly brimming at the edges of your eyes. You didn’t dare move for fear every sorrow would come tumbling out of your mouth and heart with no censorship whatsoever. Pike dragged his eyes up to meet yours, his soul shattering into a thousand penetrative shards.
What had he done? HOW was he always making the wrong decision, and hurting the people he cared about the most? He wanted to rush over to your side of the table and bury his face in your lap, begging forgiveness, but his hands held him decisively to his dining room chair. He wanted so much more for you. It was time to stop thinking so selfishly and grow up. Christmas miracles were for Pike’s Place and Bedford Falls…but not for him.
Your mouth was so dry, you weren’t sure you could articulate any sound but you managed to croak, “I need to hear you say it”, tumultuously wringing your hands together.
Pike looked at you incredulously as though you had just asked him to murder his best friend. Pausing heavily and taking a deep breath, he finally uttered “I…can’t…” clearing his throat painfully, “I…don’t…want this”, a crushing weight descended on his chest as though the cabin had collapsed on top of every hope and dream, suffocating the very life he had so desperately prayed for.
You stood shakily, your hands wrapped protectively around your body in case it decided to shatter on the spot. “Thank you for breakfast. I’ll pack…” you mumbled, floating somewhere between searing disbelief and emotional disassociation. Pike stood, his hand extending towards you as you stumbled up the stairs amidst a flurry of sobs and sniffles. Unable to tear his gaze away from you, the door shut softly, leaving Pike alone in the living room as George Bailey’s countenance flickered cinematically at the bridge’s edge. Marcus collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, barring your exit, and hanging his head in both his hands despairingly. What had he done?
Walking into the upstairs bedroom for the last time, you looked around at your meager belongings, your entire stay at Pike’s Place a confusing barrage of unbidden images. Marcus’ swaying, tipsy form, rooting you to your own emotional indecision. His angelic appearance with a plate of pancakes. Your ridiculous pink snowsuit.
Giving yourself the task of packing, you expected the tears to start flowing haphazardly, but nothing immediately came. Just memory after memory of Pike’s Place. Making snow angels in the front yard, eating far too many chocolate chip cookies, wriggling your toes against Pike’s warm body as you watched holiday movies together. What had gone wrong? The isolation of the pandemic had completely gaslighted your resource for human connection and intuition. But the time spent at Pike’s Place had begun to solidify who you were and what you wanted. Were you still so disconnected from society and self that you couldn’t see clearly into the future of your very own desires? You flashed on decorating the tree, intimate conversations and your hapless attempts at dinner that Pike had endlessly encouraged. Swallowing the lump of emotion threatening to overwhelm, you reached out in your mind to touch Marcus’ face tenderly. Just hours ago, his smile had been yours. His lips had been yours. His body had been yours. Was all of that an illusion of survival? You gripped your lips tightly together with a renewed resolve.
Main. Character. Energy.
A clarity of realization started to descend on you as you laced up your snow boots definitively. You had the sneaking suspicion Marcus was holding back, hesitant to repeat any past mistakes with Lisbon, and ultimately trying to protect you in the shifting landscape of his transition to Washington D.C.. But none of that mattered, because you finally knew what you wanted. The pandemic had liberated your life in more ways than one, and you were ready to step into your own self-actualization and speak up. If Pike decided to remove his light from your life, that would be his choice, but it wasn’t going to happen without your protestations. You journey may have felt like helpless wandering, but maybe you were no longer as lost as you previously thought. For better or worse THIS Donna Reed wasn’t running away from George Bailey, she was running straight towards him. You just weren’t entirely sure if he would be waiting with arms outstretched, or determined to question his life choices, and unwilling to embrace the love that stood right before him.
Pike couldn’t stop pacing around the cabin, weighing his options. He felt as though his heart were going to come racing out of his chest, following you to whatever corners of the earth you decided to inhabit. He’d always been an impulsive person, but this felt like something very different. All of these moments spent together, and somehow he was still running out of time. The clocks in the cabin were all bizarrely wrong since the power outage, but his internal compass was finally starting to align. It just seemed as though the current moment were slipping through his fingers like melting snow.
He hadn’t lied. He didn’t want this. More specifically…
He didn’t want…JUST…this.
He didn’t want to break your heart. He didn’t want to ask for more. He didn’t want to see you go, and he wanted so much more than just Pike’s Place. He wanted his very own “It’s a Wonderful Life”, and he wanted it all…WITH YOU. Nearly giddy from the rush of adrenaline and euphoria, this was more than simple affection or even primal survival. This was Love. He’d recognize it anywhere. He looked down at the delicate portrait of you, he held sacredly in his hands.
He’d rush up the stairs and proclaim his undying love!
Stupid Marcus, that’s how you ended up at Pike’s Place to begin with, he reasoned.
He’d lock you up in the cabin, until you changed your mind! Pike rolled his eyes sardonically. This wasn’t “Misery”.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Love wasn’t about captivity, entitlement, or possession. Love had everything to do with freedom. He took a deep breath, stilling his mind and heart in the process. He’d have to let you go. A lifetime of chasing, both professionally and personally, and his most important decision he ever made…was to finally surrender. And if Love came back to him, knocking on his doorstep once again…
Pike was jolted from his reverie by a knock at the door. He nearly dropped the portrait, startling, as he caught the skeptical face of the town’s mechanic peering at him from the repaired window. “Hell of a bang up job, Pike!” the mechanic’s muffled voice resonated. “Who’s car is that, down the road?”
Holding your suitcase valiantly in one hand, and your trusty crowbar in the other, you were determined to express your thoughts as quickly as possible before chickening out. You would just explain you feelings to Pike, blizzard be damned, and whatever his response, at least you had finally followed your heart. Yanking the door open courageously, you charged down the stairs with as much confidence as you could muster.
“Iheardeverywordthatyousaidanditdoesnotmatteroneiota.IknowthewayIfeelaboutyouandafterlastnightIthinkIknowhowyoufeelaboutmeyouarejustafraidtotrustyourselforanyoneelsebutyoudeserveeverythingPike.Youdeserveloveandsacrificeandromanceandme!AndbeforeyousayanotherwordIamgoingtogiveyouyourChristmaspresent…”
Reaching the bottom of the stairs you were met by an unexpected sight, as Pike stood despondently, your portrait cradled tenderly in his hands. Standing next to him was a complete stranger, clad in head to toe winter wear, awkwardly grasping his hat between his oil stained hands.
“Well hey there, little lady, you must be the passenger Pike was just telling me about…” he began, extending a greasy hand toward you and taking the suitcase from your surprised grasp.“The cavalry is here! We’ll just tow you back to town lickety split and have you on your way before you can say ‘Jingle Bell Rock’. Pike was just telling me about your travel troubles. He hasn’t been giving you any problems, has he?” the mechanic joked, elbowing Pike in the side.
Marcus looked completely dejected as he hugged the portrait to his chest, a wan smile of defeat pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Pretty sure you saved my life, Pink” he mumbled, willing you to somehow telepathically understand his meaning before you exited his life permanently.
You opened your mouth several times to start speaking, but nothing materialized in the oddity of the moment. This wasn’t part of the plan. You couldn’t bare your soul to Pike with…a crowbar.
“Don’t think you’ll be needing that anymore” the mechanic questioningly deprived you of the tool, tucking it under his arm securely. “Already got the Hyundai jacked up to the tow. Let’s get you back to town before that blizzard kicks up again, missy” he tried to encourage, accidentally bumping Pike’s shoulder on the way to the door. Lugging your possessions heftily he flung the door open to the steely ice of winter, yelling back at Marcus on the exit, “Hell of a bang up job, Pike. Didn’t think city folk had any business being in the country. Glad to see you didn’t get the little lady killed!” he joked, hiking the snowy length of a football field to the awaiting tow truck. Watching him recede in the distance, Pike swallowed hard, hesitantly reaching out with quivering hands.
“Merry Christmas” his voice cracked, as the portrait fluttered helplessly in the wind. “Thanks for coming to Pike’s Place” he nearly whispered, blinking back the tears, unable to meet your eyes directly.
A wash of emotion overwhelmed, as you bypassed his outstretched hand and flung yourself into his embrace. Pike stood stoically fixed in place, ensuring he didn’t grasp you tightly and never let go. He closed his eyes painfully, breathing in your soft fragrance and melting slightly into your desperate hold.
“I’ll never forget you, Pike” you cried quietly, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him passionately on the mouth. You felt his stance falter in the winter wind, as he kissed you back fervently. Breaking the kiss quickly, you cut a quick path to the doorway, not looking back, and closing the door behind you.
Bracing yourself against the icy tundra you hefted one heavy step after another, listening to the crunch of snow beneath your booted feet. Your tears began to chill against the steely wind, punctuated by the rhythm of your begrudging dirge. Just keep walking. One step after another. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Don’t act. Pike is better off without you, and some things are just too good to be true. The words bit at your heels, spurring you onward, as your heart twisted within your chest. Peering down the road you saw Bessie the Hyundai hitched up to the tow and the mechanic piling your belongings into the back of his truck. You stopped dead in your tracks, casting a longing glance back at the cabin. It no longer had the telltale, cheery plume of smoke drifting from the tree-covered chimney. It wasn’t the Normal Rockwell painting you remembered from a week earlier, but it held so much more poignancy and meaning than any flat landscape. Now small and lonely, silhouetted against the pristine winter backdrop, it was a receding memory of love and companionship highlighted against the harsh challenges of reality. A true home. Pike had been your safe haven. Your port in a storm. And here you were, running away from it.
“Well, what are you waiting for, little lady?!” the mechanic’s voice cut through the increasing winds, as he sat in the coach of his awaiting truck.
What WERE you waiting for?
Marcus stood alone in the warming living room, decidedly colder since your exit. Still holding the portrait in his shaking hands, he didn’t dare look at your smiling face in this moment. He gulped back the tears, numbly sitting on the couch and looking at the stilled fireplace. The Christmas Tree seemed to wink from the corner as he stared at the flickering television. Watching George Bailey run through the streets of Bedford Falls, he couldn’t take anymore. Reaching for the remote he defiantly shut off the Christmas flick, peering down at the floor where your passionate bodies had previously been locked in a survival embrace, now empty and solitary, showcased by the wintry sunshine.
Finally hazarding a peek at the precious portrait in his hands, a single tear fell onto the notepaper, blurring his eyes and clarifying his longing. Another tear. Another tear. He set the page delicately on the couch beside him and finally let the emotion wash over him. Covering his face with his hands, his entire chest throbbed with a pulsing yearning that seemed to encapsulate life itself. You were gone. And he was the one who had let you go.
He tried to think ahead to his new life in Washington D.C, but every imagined location was peppered with images of you; touring the new CIA offices, visiting the Smithsonian, walking down the cherry blossom lined streets, and being in love. Being together. Being with you. His heart lurched violently in his chest as he blearily smiled at the home made ornaments dotting the relit Christmas Tree.
Pike’s Place had been an escape from the reality of all of his insecurity, all of his loss and all of his self doubt. Your unexpected emergence had jolted him from the isolation of his solitude and reminded him of the true meaning of Christmas. Giving. The gift of your presence and your love had not only saved his very life, but had given him a new hope for the future. A hope for the possibility of love. Not one that was based in flippant enthusiasm, but a grounding passion of intimacy and togetherness. Looking down at your sketched likeness, he plaintively smiled to himself, tracing his fingers over the contours of your freckled face. It didn’t make any sense, but somehow he knew his love had finally manifested itself in the best way he knew how; Love was in the gift. And in the surrendering of love with the hopeful promise of its someday return.
Marcus sniffled slightly, twisting his head as he heard the soft knocking at the door. He wasn’t looking forward to another awkward conversation with the mechanic, particularly through tear stained snuffles, but perhaps you had forgotten something. Hefting himself heavily off the couch and hugging the portrait to his chest he begrudgingly trudged to the door, opening it to find…you.
A vision in pink, not only from the ubiquitous, and ever-present snowsuit but from the glowing crimson of your frost-bitten cheeks and the rose-hued rim of your equally tear stained face. Seeing your figure standing before him was like an immediate breath of fresh air, counterpointed by the frosty breeze and sterling hope of possibility.
“Pink! I….I missed you…” he chuckled self-deprecatingly, not even attempting to hide the portrait cradled in his shuddering hands. With quivering lips he confusedly asked, “Did you…forget something?”
You hiccuped shakily, your smile broadening into a Cheshire-like grin. “I never gave you my Christmas present” you offered, shifting your weight from side to side in the cold. Pike stood dumbly in the doorway, his heart a pounding throb of bewilderment.
“M-my…Christmas present?” he mumbled, gazing at your face meticulously, as though memorizing it freckle for freckle.
“I…I don’t want to go back to my life in California” you finally breathed a sigh of relief with the admission you’d been preparing for the last 24 hours. Pike’s breath halted in his throat with tentative disbelief. “Something about my life stopped with the pandemic. The hysterectomy, the isolation, the disconnect…it was all tied to….me! Somehow I lost…ME. Wandering through the desolation of the last four years has finally brought me home. Home to myself. Home to my dreams. And home….to you Marcus. I want my home to be…with you”. The unyielding realization of your time at Pike’s Place came tumbling forward in a stream of passion as Pike’s eyes widened to the shape of saucers. “I want to move to Washington D.C…with YOU. If you’ll have me?” you finally offered, throwing up your hands in placation. Maybe you were being impulsive. Maybe you were being emotional. Maybe you were being characteristically “Pike” you observed internally, giggling with abandon. But you were finally stepping into your heart’s desire, as the main character, and it felt fucking amazing. “Merry Christmas?” you smirked, shrugging your shoulders and awaiting Pike’s response.
A momentary hesitation ensued as Pike remained frozen in the doorframe, gripping the portrait in a vice like embrace, his mouth parted slightly in surprise. As though watching a snowman melt on the spot, a beam of light began to flicker in Pike’s distant gaze, springing into a broad smile that enfolded his entire being. The portrait fluttered noiselessly to the ground, escaping his outstretched hands as he reached for you longingly.
“Merry Christmas!” he exclaimed, gripping you firmly around the waist and gently pulling you towards him.
“We can take it slow…” you began, until your lips were buried with his, tasting the salty sweetness of your shared tears and smiling mouths. A million thoughts cascaded through your mind considering your new life of possibilities, but only one thing really mattered. You were finally home. Home to yourself. Home to love. And home…with Pike.
“Merry Christmas, Pink” Pike mumbled into your mouth, laughing and crying with relief. Love had returned to him, on the very doorstep of Pike’s Place. And you were both reaching for it, with arms outstretched, never letting it go again.
*thanks @unknown-till for the cool dividers!
The One With Election Day
Sigh. Pedge and I are feeling sad today. We found ourselves in New York during the 2016 Elections, and there are some aspects of today that feel analogous.
Pedro Pascal has been very vocal about his politics, so I will let you research them on your own, but I told Pedge that a lot of us are feeling sad and scared about our country’s future.
What was that Pedge? Do I think Pedro Pascal could use some chocolate chip cookies today? Um. I’m not sure chocolate chip cookies will make EVERYTHING better, but in this moment it couldn't hurt.
If you happened to vote another way, I don’t think this post is for you. I have close friends and family who think differently than I do, and I still love them.
Pedge and I still love you. But we’re allowed to disagree. And I would encourage everyone to have as diverse a community as is possible so you can understand varying viewpoints and backgrounds.
Pedge says he loves enjoying all the colors of the rainbow when it comes to humanity and I couldn’t agree more.
If you are specifically in the LGBTQIA+ community please remember that you are not alone. As a self-described sexy celibate I often don’t feel like I belong anywhere, but as my mom says, “humans were made for one another”, and I believe her.
We were made for each other. Pedge, I don’t think I can hold your hand and type at the same time…Okay, just rest your head on my shoulder, but try not to snot into my t-shirt please. Thank you.
As per Pedro’s IG post, I have several friends at The Trevor Project, and I believe P has volunteered there as well. Please check out their resources if you are feeling lonely, or just need a talk.
Pedge and I will be enjoying our creativity today. We have several projects of gratitude, but Pedge wants me to remind you that thankfulness is never toxic.
It doesn’t operate in opposition to reality, it holds it firmly by the hand and gives it perspective. I exist in Love, regardless of circumstance and I believe that for you as well my darling friends.
Pedge and I encourage lots of snuggle time today, and we might even upgrade from cookies to pie this Thanksgiving season. There is still much to be grateful for like cherry pie, hot coffee, chocolate chip cookies, smut, Pedro Pascal, sweater weather, winter break, silly songs…but most importantly Pedge says he’s most thankful…for YOU.
Pedge's Bookshop The Dream
Bookshop: As per your recommendation, Joel is our shop owner. I think there's something appealing in a man who says little, but obviously feels so much. I just finished reading Pedge's rec for "Crime and Punishment" and it's a doozy. Joel has a lot...or very little say about it.
Triggers: y'all I was in a MOOD for this one, spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", "Last of Us" canon, injury/violence/murder/abuse/nudity, spiritual concepts, nightmare scenario, crying...geez...maybe read this later...
Series Masterlist
Word Count: 1k
Joel stared resolutely at the stairwell, heading into the hallway and was met by the flickering fluorescence of the hospital corridor. His head was pounding with a dull throbbing, which he was all but oblivious to, as the steely taste of iron permeated his senses. He had to get to Ellie. It might already be too late. The childlike paintings and mildewed toys added a bizarre foreboding, as he carefully and quickly moved down the hall with the gun concretely nestled in his shoulder. He had lost count of how many bodies fell under the weight of his quick precision, as he continued, unblinking, towards the main Operating Room. Only stopping for a moment to reload, he quietly entered the darkened environment, quickly observing three individuals.
Without a moment’s hesitation he dispatched the surgeon, hearing the scalpel clatter helplessly to the floor. On the operating table, he saw the delicate feet of the small body, limp and lifeless. The nearby nurses were screaming for mercy, but it was hush under the din of blood rushing to his ears.
Ellie.
He gestured for the nurses to step aside as he neared the table with an almost sacred anticipation.
Sarah.
Joel froze in longing terror as the angelic face of Sarah stared up into his face, arms outstretched and reaching for his touch. An unbidden cry escaped his mouth as the nurses vanished like phantasms and a burgeoning circle of blood blossomed across her abdomen.
“You let me die” Sarah neutrally observed, blood now covering the expanse of her surgical gown, as Joel dropped to his knees in placation.
“Babygirl, I tried, I tried…” he whimpered, drawing both hands to his face in abject horror, opening his eyes to see the unfeeling and lifeless face of the surgeon on the floor before him. The surgeon’s eyes opened gravely, a strange smile spreading across his face, much like a Cheshire grin. His body began to convulse with laughter, a maniacal mirth dripping from the tones of his otherwise melodious voice. Joel reached behind him for the hunting knife housed in his belt, stabbing the surgeon in the chest. But the surgeon continued to laugh, tendrils of infection now spreading around Joel’s wrists drawing the knife forward and back repeatedly.
Joel fearfully looked up, noticing that Ellie was sitting up on the hospital gurney, watching him voraciously. He ripped the knife from the vice-like grip of the surgeon, and scooped Ellie up in his arms. “Let’s get out of here…” he muttered, stepping over the body of the doctor and heading for the hospital doors. Reaching the hallway, Ellie was no longer in his arms, but a row of doors opened on either side, each one housed with a familiar face.
The occupants held an eerie awareness, staring unflinchingly at Joel as he walked down the hall towards a silhouetted figure at the end of the walkway. He saw his brother’s visage gazing skeptically, and Maria perched in another doorway, holding her stomach. On the left hand side was Tess, covered in infected tendrils, and to the right Marlene had a gaping wound in her abdomen, and was fingering a hand held revolver at her side. Joel quickened his pace as he walked towards the lit figure, hoping against hopes that Ellie had somehow escaped from this medical nightmare.
Nearing the hooded figure he breathed a sigh of relief seeing your face revealed to him in an almost ethereal glow. You were standing before him otherwise naked, but he couldn’t look away from your eyes. They were radiating with a compassionate warmth, glistening with tears and awash with empathy. Joel fell to his knees helplessly, reaching out for your supple form and gulping back his own tears.
“I couldn’t save her, I couldn’t save her…” he repeated over and over again, sinking lower and lower still into the floor. Returning to meet your gaze he was horrified to see the looming figure of Levi towering behind you, dragging a foreboding palm across your bare midriff.
“Get away from her…” Joel growled, reaching for the knife once again, but finding himself completely devoid of weapons other than his own fists which balled aggressively at his sides.
“She was mine first” Levi drawled, twisting your head to the side and licking a long stripe of lust across the upward turn of your neck. Joel saw blood red as he lunged for Levi’s legs, tackling him to the ground in a feral rage. Tendrils of infection blossomed out of Levi’s mouth, but Joel paid it no mind. He was pummeling Levi again and again, oblivious to his own well-being, a creature of violence and murder. Again and again, his heart pounded in his chest, no longer aware of Ellie or Sarah or you…only focused on the singular goal of overwhelming vehemence. This was beyond choice. Beyond awareness. There was a road of destiny and Joel was fated to follow it. At some point, he looked down at his own bloodied and mangled hands, only to discover that he was beating the wooden floor, splintered and shattered, but all that remained was his own self-destruction.
Your beautiful silhouette was now poised at the opposite end of the hallway, as Ellie and Sarah stood at your sides. Joel shakily stood to his feet, feeling the blood drip onto the wooden floors. The hall occupants were continuing to stare in judgement, as a great chasm began to deepen at the center of the walkway, but Joel was paralyzed with indecision. He was completely rooted to the spot, unable to move and unable to articulate a single word. His body was a frozen skeleton of rigidity and helplessness as his hands hung like weighted anchors at his side. He opened his mouth to scream, but floating and delicate bands of infection cascaded forward, tickling his throat and wrapping themselves around his neck and jaw.
He tried to scream your name until…
Joel awoke, covered in sweat and gripping the sheets desperately. His chest heaved with a heaviness he hadn’t allowed himself to fully feel in years. Muscles aching with the imaginary weight of nightmarish terrors, his face was covered with the dry salt of tears long since cried. His throat was raw and dry with the winter’s chill, as he sat upright, feverishly clawing at the back of his neck.
He had to tell you. There were so many things you didn’t know about Ellie, and the unquestionable things he had done to protect her. What he would do to protect you. What he would do to anyone that threatened the people he loved. He didn’t know how you would respond. He just knew you were a kindred spirit. A companion in his solace of suffering. A beacon of hope in a world that grew increasingly dark. For so long, he had questioned his capacity to love and be loved, but in that moment, he knew that it didn’t matter. Maybe suffering was the spiritual bond that engages man to Divine Love itself. Joel sank back on the bed, willing his heart to stop pounding as though racing out of his chest. Maybe he didn’t know how to love. But if suffering was his key to eternity, he was assured that he could follow his heart all the way to wherever it led….
Intoxicated
As we continue our therapeutic series, please proceed with caution. This blurb is not written to romanticize the disease of alcoholism, but to speak to concepts of control, intimacy and consent.
Triggers: alcohol, mostly fluff, implied smut, loss of control, intoxication, hmmm...maybe infantilism, if you squint...
Weeeeeeeee! You were drunk. Drunkity, drunk, drunk, drunk, druuuuuunk. You were flying high. Buzzing, floating, tipsying, trip-sying…Literally so, as Pedge grasped you around the waist, fumbling with the keys as your head lolled onto his shoulder.
“I feel goooooood…” you smiled into his neck.
“Gooood, pobrecita. Let’s get you some water and get you to bed so you can feel even better…”
“Bed…We've shared a bed…I like sleeping. We share sleeping too.”
“Mmmmhmmm…” he hummed, finally jarring the door opening and practically carrying you over the threshold.
“You’re so pretty…” you mumbled, as he awkwardly fumbled for the lights, propping you up against the wall and attempting to shut the door. “I’m pretty?” he questioned, grinning dolefully and placing a hand across your forehead, checking your temperature. “Are you hot? Do you want a shower first?”
“Yourrrr hawt…” you drawled, placing your hands on his stomach and jamming your fingers into the waistband of his jeans. He grabbed you around the waist again before you fell over, and started walking backwards towards the bedroom. “Is my little girl feeling frisky?” he pecked at your lips, innocently, attempting to maneuver you down the hallway.
“Frisky!” you repeated, immediately shutting your eyes as the room spun sideways AND backwards. You missed a few moments, finding yourself now prostrate on the bed as Pedge removed your shoes carefully, massaging your calves.
“Druuuuunk!” you sang out, accidentally kicking him in the face.
“Ouch!” he grabbed his jaw, rubbing carefully and grabbing your other foot before it connected with his chest. You were a lightweight, to be sure, generally only getting drunk…actually, he wasn’t sure if he’d EVER seen you this drunk. There was an industry event and you were coming straight from work having missed every meal, except a stale granola bar. Needless to say, the open bar had originally seemed like a good idea, but he wanted to make sure you didn’t regret it in the morning. He had other plans for the morning BUT he wasn’t sure about your preferences during intoxicated sexy time so he was playing it safe. But damn if you weren’t making this decision challenging.
“Are you mad at me?” you shifted gears dramatically, propping yourself up on your elbows, haphazardly rubbing your eyelids and smearing your mascara sideways.
“What? No! Why would I be mad at you?”
“I don’t know….hashtagdrunk” you pouted, swallowing dryly.
“I’m mad that I let you get dehydrated and had to spend most of that event talking with people I didn’t know, rather than dancing with you…” he admitted, grabbing your hands and pulling you forward gently.
You slumped against his chest as he pulled down the zipper at the back of your dress.
“You smell nice” you slurred, sucking on his shoulder blade, through his dress shirt. He rubbed small circles against your back, breathing deeply and pulling the shoulders of the dress down to your waist. You leaned back, your bare breasts on display for him as he held the back of your neck, lowering you back on the bed.
“Do I smell nice?” you batted your eyelashes seductively, looking up into his countenance.
“Ay Dios mio, yes” he chuckled, kissing you lightly on the lips and pulling your dress off the rest of the way. He hung it lightly on the bedside chair and returned to find you dangling your feet off the side of the bed.
“Are you planning on kicking me again, or can I get you some Advil first?”
Your hands balled up in fists beside you, “SEEE! You’re mad at meeeee!” you whined, beginning to tear up.
“Okay, okay, shhhh” he lowered his weight on top of you, stroking your hair and tucking it behind your ears. “I’m not mad. I’m dehydrated. I’M thirsty. Aren’t you thirsty?”
“Drinks!” you piped up, nearly kneeing him in the crotch.
“Ah!” he grabbed your leg deftly, sliding his hand up to your ass and giving a little spank. “Caught ya that time, Ali!” he planted a small kiss on your nose.
As though transported by magic, you opened your eyes to find him vanished, immediately complaining, “Where’d you goooo? I’m lonely.”
“I know, pobrecita, I’m finding the Advil!” his voice drifted in from the bathroom as he rummaged around the medicine cabinet, drawing a glass of water.
“I’m cold!” you shivered, covering yourself with your arms and curling up into a ball.
“Shit, sorry baby…” he came back in with the Advil and water and immediately started wrapping you in the comforter.
“I’m a burrito!” you joked, scrunching your face like a small child.
“My breakfast burrito…” he teased, kissing your face and neck and forehead, and scooping you up into an embrace.
“Where’s my drink?” you confusedly pouted, unsure of…most things at this point.
“Here at Casa de Pedro we offer bedside service, please be sure to tip your waiter at your earliest convenience…” he reached over for the water and medicine. “Drink, please”.
“Bossy staff…” you managed to retort before gratefully accepting and closing your eyes contentedly. He sat back against the headboard, rocking you slightly and humming to himself for a while.
“Am I floating?” you mumbled, into his chest, grabbing at this dress shirt.
“Yes, pobrecita, we are on a cloud. We are hydrated and sleepy, very sleepy.”
“Yeah, we’re drinky…” you agreed. “BUT…that means we’re a rain cloud…and have to pee….”
“Okay” he chuckled, groaning slightly with the weight of both your bodies. Rising from a sitting position and dropping the comforter he carried you like a sack of potatoes into the bathroom. “But after this, we’re going to bed…”
“Bed!” you exclaimed eyes closed, “floating” into the restroom. He tried to set you down gently on the toilet, but you were having difficulty balancing yourself. He braced your chest with his forearm and reached over for the wet wipes.
“You’re gonna kill me if I let you go to bed without removing that eye make-up” he said, nearly to himself.
“It’sssss raining!” you droned, finally able to relieve yourself and resting both hands on his broad shoulders, swaying a little with the effort.
“Mmmhmmm…” he murmured, pursing his lips and concentrating on cleaning your face delicately. “Is that better?”
You smiled with affection, opening your eyes dopily. But now the rain cloud started tearing up again, lips wobbling and cascading into a full on ugly cry.
“What happened?” he questioned, amusedly concerned at the shifting waters of emotion he found himself happily wading into. He stroked your face, wiping the fat, salty tears that were running every which way.
“I’m not a rain cloud. I’m ruining everythinggggg…” you whined, dropping your head on his shoulder and sobbing quietly.
“You’re not ruining anything” he comforted, rubbing your back and eventually pulling you to a standing position, steadying you as much as possible.
“But I’m a drunk rain cloud!” you cried, hiccuping slightly and collapsing your weight into his hips.
“Yes, but you’re MY drunk rain cloud” he twinkled, kissing you on the forehead.
“I am?” you muttered, now finding yourself back on the bed, unsure of how you arrived there.
“Arms up!” he encouraged, caressing the sides of your torso in an upward motion and dropping one of his large, Lakers shirts over your head. Disastrously, you tried to assist the dressing process as he wrangled you into sleepwear. Needless to say, there was a lot of giggling, hiccuping and sniffling in this endeavor, before you found yourself lying against his chest, fully ensconced in bed and floating towards happy oblivion.
“Mmmm, floaty cloud…” you droned, pulling his face towards you in a tender kiss.
“Good night, pobrecita” he smiled into your mouth, gripping you around the waist.
“Yes, good night both of us” you sloppily reached down to grab his crotch, with abandon, but noticing him stiffen in more ways than one. He wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling back, slightly. “No, pobrecita, time for sleeping” he encouraged.
“Nooooo!” you whined, pushing your breasts up against his torso and bouncing haphazardly.
“Excuse me” he doubled down, grasping your hands in front of you and kissing your mouth softly. “No thank you, rain cloud, I would like to go to sleep”.
You froze, mid bounce, completely overwhelmed with every alcohol fueled emotion that seemed possible. Fear. Guilt. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. Exhaustion. Nausea. But unable to metabolize any of it, you immediately sat up, on overload.
“You don’t want me?” you swayed from side to side, nearly knocking into the headboard.
“That is most definitely NOT the case” he smirked, grabbing your head before it hit the bedpost and massaging your scalp.
“You’re pretty and I’m not!” you moaned, starting to struggle in his grasp with petulance and scooting backwards. “You don’t want me!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…not true. Please sit still…”
…but you were having none of it, as adrenaline pumped into your intoxicated system, fueling a small temper tantrum. Losing your grip, you fell backwards out of the bed onto the carpeted floor, pushing yourself into a teetering tower of emotion.
“Careful, hermosa, I take great care of my breakfast burritos, please come back to bed.”
“No” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest, stumbling forward and backwards. Pedge took a deep breath, unsure of how to coax a burrito OR a rain cloud back to bed, but doubly sure of its necessity as you confidently staggered in place.
He propped his head up on one hand, gazing at you mischievously. “Okay it’s time for a game.”
You pursed your lips, half-heartedly irritated, “I like games”.
“I know you do, pobrecita” he shifted to the edge of the bed, sitting up. “If you can walk a straight line from the wall to the bed we can continue this conversation horizontally…”
“Oooh!” you clapped your hands enthusiastically, rushing over to the wall, bumping into several items en route. Strangely enough, you found Pedge waiting for you, arms outstretched.
“Wow! Yourrrrr really fast, you already won the first game…” you pouted, collapsing slightly into his embrace.
“Well, I like games too” he grinned, holding you in a soft hug. “For this game, we’re gonna count to ten and then start walking, okay?”
You sleepily nodded your head into his chest, “Okay, m’ready…”
“1…2….3….4….7, 6, 5…2…”
You sighed heavily, blinking your eyes rapidly in confusion. “Those numbers are funny…you’re doing it wrong…” you complained, beginning to drift again.
“I am? Well, you’re distracting me, hermosa. Okay I better start over…1…2…3…4….3….”
Not only were your eyelids getting heavier, your whole body felt like a ton of bricks as you felt him swaying you side to side, inching towards the bed.
“M’floating straight, right?” you blearily asked, legs buckling slightly beneath you.
“Oh yes, you are definitely winning this game” he cupped his hands under your ass, carrying you back to bed “but now I’ve lost count so I have to start over again…1…2…3…3.5…”.
“I like this game” you sighed, pecking at his neck with whatever energy you had left.
“I like YOU” he whispered in your ear, tucking you back into bed with a small kiss.
“I don’t have any arms” you observed, content to keep your eyes shut, but furrowing your brow in consternation.
“Rain clouds don’t need any arms, hermosa” you felt the mattress dip beneath you as he settled in for the night beside you, pulling your torso against his chest. Not five seconds transpired before you immediately burst into tears again.
“I’m sorrrryyyyyyyyy” you wailed, suddenly embarrassed and guilty that you had been so needy. AND that you had apparently lost the game.
You heard some soft tittering behind you, and kisses at the nape of your neck. “Pobrecita, please try to be a little nicer to yourself. If I have to keep attending this many events with an open bar and an empty stomach we’re BOTH gonna need some help.”
“Ammmm…M’I…stilllll….your…break (hiccup) fast….burrrrito?” you huffed, starting to hyperventilate.
“If you feel up to it, I have BIG plans for breakfast tomorrow and they most assuredly involve eating you.”
You stopped abruptly, hiccuping into your pillow.
“That’s your reward for winning the game” he smiled, gripping you tightly around the waist.
“I won?” you smirked, starting to drift into a heavy sleep.
“My plans for your morning wake-up involve a win for both of us…” he teased “Are you ready for the next game?”
“Mmmhhmmmm” you intoned, floating into a hazy dream.
“The first one to fall asleep wins in 5…4….3…2….”.
Pedro Scouts Glamping
A big thank you to @pedroscouts for this fun summer time activity! I ran into Pedge and he gently mentioned that my solo tent was a bit messy. He suggested some after care and a light massage because I was such a hot mess, so I've organized myself a bit more.
Ranks/Pledge I Pledge to Pedge Song Fic Use SomebodyPedge's Favorites Fan Art Papi Pascal Personal ArtJoel Miller @norththelemon Ellie and Joel @pebblume Din and Grogu @lupinsuniverse Game of Thrones Era @craftingwithamyc Esquire Magazine @saminadorazahi Beldro Ramscal Marcus Moreno We Can Be Heroes @firsttarotreader Cockwarming @flightlessangelwings Coffee Shop Coffee Shop Date @mermaidgirl30 Routine @endlessthxxghts Dieter Salt, Shot, Lime @freelancearsonist Enemies to Lovers Enjoy the Silence @strang3lov3 Whiskey Daniels How Much Does Devotion Weigh? @anabdaniels Ezra How to Write for Ezra @morallyinept Helianthus Fan Art @millersblud Sex Pollen Scarlet Haze @katiexpunk Only One Bed Killing Me Softly Series @alltheirdamn Frankie Morales Do You Feel It Too? @burntheedges Fluff + Smut Is Joel Okay? @djarinmuse Hurt/Comfort I Know Who You Are Series @punkshortChronicSweet DreamsNothing Hits Quite Like That First Kiss @backtothefanfictionYou're My Stranger In the Dark @lady-of-glass-and-bone Slow Burn Pike's Place Joel Miller Somewhere to Run @punkshortJust Ralphy @ameerawrites
Now, if you'll excuse me, it's very important that I continue earning badges. Pedge assures me that the reward of personal hard work is quite fulfilling and I'm not just talking about scout cookies. Happy summer activities!
Moody Witch
Ha! Okay Pedge and I wanted to try our hands at some Spooky Season Fics, so this weekend we are going to attempt our first Moody Max short. We just watched "Bloodsucking Bastards" and it was a hoot.
Also stay tuned for the Roll-a-Trope Challenge, Episode Five of "Pike's Place; Nightmare Before Christmas". Everything is starting to get intense, it's the Season of the Witch y'all!
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I'm a 40+ Sexy, Saucy Celibate ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ Reblog account @pedrotease
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