Moody Silva

Pedro's Holiday Feast Family Dinner #2

Hey folks! Welcome to our second Family Dinner! I can't believe Thanksgiving is next week, but don't forget to keep tagging @pedges-world and #pedrosholidayfeast for all of your yummy treats! Let the feasting continue!

Appetizer

This is my first Thanksgiving on Tumblr, but shoutout to @dornish-queen for this fun Fall Artwork. I personally will forever envision the traditional holiday with this new vibe...

Entree

Check out this fun Fall Mini-Series with a special Thanksgiving Episode by @corazondebeskar-reads!

Dessert

I couldn't help myself, and assembled a special Thanksgiving Mood Board :)

Amuse-Bouche

@dornish-queen Has done it again! Pedge...I think...they're behind you...A little something for the road...

*thanks @bernardsbendystraws for the cool dividers!

In case anyone is still hungry, double back for seconds at our First Family Dinner, and join us next week for a special Thanksgiving Reveal! Happy Feasting!

Pedge Tweets Afterglow

I love the throw down as much as the next gal, but I love the "Afterglow" even more. Excited to attempt this sexy time experimentation, writing for some of the Pedro Boys with variety in shorter snippets. Wanted a therapeutic outlet for our great and not so great "O"'s. Mostly self-indulgent intimacy writing, though Pedge is VERY excited...

Series Masterlist

*art by Vivek Gupta + Klimt

Pedge's Bookshop The Murder

Foyer: There are already so many great AU fics featuring all our favorite Pedro Boys and I'd like to showcase them! In the Coffee Shop Foyer you'll find some great rec's for coffee and books alike. Bring your library card--this if one of my favorite tropes! This week, check out "Snooze" by @tightjeansjavi, it's a beautiful refreshment before our discussion turns to a darker roast...

Triggers: profanity, major spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", references to murder/violence, typical Last of Us canon, no smut yet, just bristling with...academia, cats (allergic?), too much coffee consumption...

Series Masterlist

It was quite early in the morning as you trudged through the main street of the Jackson Commune with a satchel of notepaper and a newfound pocketful of optimism. Only the local apothecary would be open this early, but truth be told, you hadn’t slept much the night before. Bracing yourself against the cold tundra winds, your boots crunching in the seemingly ever-present snow, you couldn’t help but indulge in the inner warmth of your recent hopeful encounter….with Joel.

Finding yourself on an extended winter break, your educational duties had slowed to a grinding halt, as you watched friends and local families celebrate the holidays in whatever unconventional way they could. You had to admit that Jackson had worked a small Christmas miracle in providing decency, organization and community in an otherwise sparse territory. But once again, the holidays only served to highlight your growing isolation in contrast. You loved the small niche you had been able to carve out for yourself, here at the end of the world. You just wished it included someone else. Or at least a good book to read. Enter Joel. 

Stumbling into the apothecary with a flurry of wind and snow, you made small talk with the shopkeep, casting a wary glance across the road to The Bookshop. You weren’t sure if Joel and his feline companion would even be accessible this early in the morning, but lo and behold, the bookshop was casting a cheery glow in the wintry dawn. It would be impossible to disguise your enthusiasm, returning a mere 12 hours since yesterday, but you felt restless as ever with the new prospect of passionate…discussion. Traipsing across Joel and this treasure trove of literary wonders had lit a small, ambitious fire within you. You hoped you weren’t getting too far ahead of yourself, but if the apocalypse had taught you anything it was to seize opportunities as soon as they presented themselves, and this was too good a chance to pass up. You weren’t sure if you could edge your way through Joel’s formidable emotional armor, but if Dostoyevsky could help you, all the better. Striking up a conversation about the classic “Crime and Punishment” had nudged a small crack in the otherwise impenetrable vizard of the commune’s most intriguing hermit, and you were determined to get your foot in the door, in more ways than one. Besides, it was good research if you were going to provide the most nurturing and educational atmosphere for his ward, Ellie. Trading for your small apothecary purchase, you crossed the distance to the bookshop, peering at the large “CLOSED” sign in the window. 

Tentatively trying the handle, you breathed a sigh of relief, pushing the door open to the telltale ringing sound of the bookshop bell. Quickly shutting the door, you sighed with contentment at the heat of the foyer. How was it so warm? Your eyes noticed the small wood burning stove in the book nook alcove, nodding your head in affirmation. You didn’t remember that from yesterday. Joel had really thought of everything. Reflecting back on your most recent encounter, you endeavored to make yourself immediately known to avoid a repeat surprise. Though, if totally honest, your stomach dipped slightly with the possibility of seeing his face again, whatever the circumstance. You had spent all night, jotting down notes from your memory of several decades past. The plot of “Crime and Punishment” was very straightforward, but the character names and subsequent themes were a labyrinth of literary genius, and you weren’t a hundred percent sure you could remember every detail. Gone were the days of Google, but you hoped the ongoing conversation with Joel could jog your memory. Or at the very least, maybe add a small spark of cheer to an otherwise dreary and somewhat lonely holiday season.

“Anybody home?” you called out optimistically, noticing the striking fragrance of coffee already permeating the bookshop as the orange tabby trotted in from the backroom, leading the way before Joel’s immediately imposing figure. Joel’s face was buried in a book, as he confidently strode forward, not making eye contact but heading to the wood burning stove. 

“Coffee?” he rasped, a new plaid shirt hugging the broad contours of his frame, as the cat nudged itself against your calves, already purring contentedly.

“Oh!” you quirked, curious as to Joel’s seeming bravado which contradicted his apparent anticipation of your “unexpected” arrival. Perhaps you weren’t the only one who was looking forward to another chance encounter? “I don’t want to use up your stock…” you mused, rummaging through your bags for the apothecary purchase.

“S’no trouble, I’ve got extra” Joel glanced sideways as you retrieved the small parcel of catnip. You thought you caught the smallest upturn of his mouth, but it was immediately gone under your watchful gaze.

“I’ll bet you like that, don’t you, Rascal?” you teased the cat playfully, dangling the treat to its clawing attacks. “What do you think, is that a good name for our furry companion?” you questioned, setting your bag near the foyer armchair and removing your winter scarf.

“You’re the expert, teach” Joel finally looked up, a crackle of electricity flashing across his countenance that quickly disappeared as he turned his back to you, heading towards the wood burning stove. “Hope you like it dark…” he stated matter-a-factly, pouring the coffee into a nearby ceramic and shoving it towards you unceremoniously. “Least it’s hot…” he shrugged, watching you mindfully and towering above you as you sat in the comfortable arm chair.

Pausing as you realized he expected you to drink it immediately, you quickly grabbed the offering, bringing the cup to your lips enthusiastically. This was short lived, as the potent beverage jolted through your system, eliciting a coughing fit, covered by bouts of laughter. “Strong…” you wheezed, nodding your head with appreciation.

“You’re just like Ellie” he grumbled, though apparently satisfied with your reaction and heading back to the front counter. “Wht’s the good of coffee if it ain’t strong?” he argued, picking up the book and furrowing his brow in consternation.

“Made it through part two yet?” you probed, eyeing Joel conspiratorially. You wondered if there were only one copy of the book, as you wouldn’t mind a refresher before your next conversation.

“Not the best student, teach” Joel complained, shaking his head with self-deprecation. “Might be a lost cause…” he pondered, setting the book down and gesturing to the stack of books behind you. “Found another copy though…if you want it…” he lowered his gaze to the cat’s playful self-banter, though as your face lit up with recognition, his attention snapped quickly to your ebullient reaction. Grabbing the nearby quilt, you wrapped yourself up in the warmth of familiarity, tracing a finger down the spine of this most recent copy, as though handling a sacred artifact. Nowadays, it really was. These could be the only two copies in the world, for all you knew. You hugged the book to your chest, basking in the warmth of luxury. Opening your eyes you noticed Joel watching you meticulously, his face nearly unreadable, but his eyes shining brightly with acknowledgement.

“Okay” he nodded, returning to the book and leafing through the pages. “Rapscallion’s a damned near idiot if you ask me…” he mumbled, huffing with frustration and taking a large swig of his own coffee to punctuate the opinion.

“Raskolnikov?” your eyebrows lifted up to your forehead, tilting your head sideways and relishing the feline’s ongoing maneuvers. “I assume you’re not talking about the cat…” you jested, breathing in the musky fragrance of the book pages as you delicately fingered your way to the end of chapter six.

“Didn’t think he had it in’m” Joel scoffed, and you wondered if his tone were one of scathing judgement or clandestine admiration. “Guess you can never tell with people sometimes…” he decided, setting the book down heavily on the counter as though aching to avoid it. “Right at the beginning too!” he exclaimed, his eyes squinting with incredulity. “What’s the rest of the book about, anyhow?” he questioned, picking it back up restlessly.

“I can tell you the ending right now, if you want…” you teased, shuffling your feet together playfully and looking over the edge of the book mischievously.

“You wouldn’t dare” Joel gazed at you skeptically, as though trying to gauge your gumption. “What kinda teacher is that?” he mumbled, setting the book back down defiantly. “Could just flip to the end if I want…” he pouted, rubbing at the back of his neck with humility.

“You could, but then you’d miss all the angst” you sarcastically gibed, skimming through the previous pages to see if your memory had been relatively accurate.

“Got a teenager in my house with all the angst you could want” Joel contested, picking up the book one final time as though trying to decipher an ancient, mysterious text. The silence hung between the two of you, stretched into an odd sense of comfort as the quilt melted around you comfortingly and the wood stove crackled joyfully in the corner.

“I forgot about the illness…” you mused, skimming the surrounding pages and reaching for your notebook.

“Is this a pop quiz, teach?” Joel bantered, leafing through the pages cynically.

“No, no tests today, Miller. It’s just interesting to deconstruct the book after the contagion, you know?” you proffered, jotting down some ideas for future pondering. “Dostoyevsky was of the opinion that crime was a harbinger of illness, guilt, paranoia…all manner of psychological maladies that could isolate and twist the human psyche”. If you had glanced up at Joel you might have seen him blanch slightly at the observations, but it was immediately replaced with a mask of stoicism, as you continued. “Wonder what D would have to say about the pandemic of a society bent on destroying itself? A contagion not only of Cordyceps, but of corruption and violence itself. Wasn’t new to Dostoyevsky’s time and it certainly isn’t new to ours…” you trailed off, thankful to be housed in the armored atmosphere of the commune and its residents, rather than fighting and clawing for your own survival from one day to the next.

“Don’t expect the people in the last century had many more luxuries than we do now" Joel surmised, his mood immediately darkening under the onslaught of unarticulated memories. “Survival doesn’t allow for much livin’” he wisely stated, thumbing the ridge of his book as though looking for hidden insights.

“Wow, Miller, you might just get an ‘A’ on this quiz after all” you ventured, thinking through the poverty, trauma and history of humanity. What had allowed Dostoyevsky to transcend the challenges of his time, and speak so presciently into the horrors of our own? And what would he think about a society that could no longer hide the contagion of its own demise, clawing and grasping at any thread for survival while debating the loss of its own humanity? “Guess we started with the easy stuff…” you jested, momentarily soothed by the cat’s oblivious joy in such a simple activity.

“Nothing accidental about killin’” Joel bluntly intruded, enunciating his words definitively. “Kill or be killed, if you ask me…” a dark, foreboding seemed to encapsulate his demeanor, as a minuscule shiver rippled across his back. You haltingly held your breath, remembering your surprising encounter yesterday. There was something about Joel that seemed almost primal; a kind of wildness that fit the landscape you found each other in. You weren’t sure how applicable any of the previous societal norms were to a period of history already marked by such far-reaching lawlessness, but you were willing to bet Joel was at least tethered to the laws of nature. How could he and Ellie have survived without it? You were trying to formulate that very question when Joel interrupted again.

“But Rascal is different…” Joel meandered forward as you closed your mouth with hesitation. You’d never heard him utter this many words in the entire length of his commune residency, and you wondered how long he had kept these thoughts to himself. “Rascal…he doesn’t have to…I mean…he doesn’t have to…murder” Joel finally blurted out, slamming the book shut again as though at war with the material itself. Shaking his head with frustration, he headed over to the mismatched bookshelves and attempted to helplessly organize the haphazard assortment of found treasures. 

“Well, of course, I can’t be sure of Dostoyevsky’s intention, but maybe we have a case of Rascal doing the wrong thing, for the right reason?” you offered, setting your book to one side and rising to join Joel in the organization. “I’m not sure alphabetically sorting this cornucopia is going to be the best Dewey Decimal system…” you stated, beginning to pile books and magazines according to thematic interpretations.

“Horse-shit” Joel mumbled under his breath, pausing to look at you carefully, as though seeing something for the first time, and wondering at its validity.

“Why, how do you wanna organize it?” you threatened, pouting with annoyance.

“No, I just mean…you think he shoulda killed ‘em?” Joel spat with incredulity, placing his hands on his hips angrily.

“Oh! Now hold up…I didn’t say that. Come to think of it, Dostoyevsky didn’t even say that. Think about the dream for a sec…” you gathered up a stack of books, heading over to an empty bookshelf and clearing a space for general works and computer science, however irrelevant those topics currently seemed.

“That didn’t make any goddam sense either! Forgive my french, teach…” Joel sputtered, leaning over the bookshelf, now thoroughly engaged. “Iff you’ve got a mare, good and healthy, what’s the point of slaughtering it, just to prove a point?” he bellowed, smacking his hand against the wooden shelf for emphasis. You jumped ever so slightly at how demonstrative he was becoming, but passion was much better than apathy, you reasoned.

“Yeah, that’s one of the most famous metaphors of D’s writing prowess. You’ve got an exploration of man’s bestiality, the suffering of the horse, the innocence of the child. And Rascal is smack dab in the middle of it. I think the 100’s are all about philosophy or psychology or something like that…” you trailed off, trying to decide where to put the 2015 magazine copy of Maxim.

“Still don’t make no sense” Joel returned to grumbling and shoving books around the shelf distractedly. “He goes to all the trouble of planning the murder, and then doesn’t even hide his crime. Keeps blamin’ everybody but himself. I don’t know, teach, it’s almost like he WANTS to get caught…” Joel tossed his hands up flippantly, huffing like an old steam engine, finally giving up. “More coffee?” he blustered, grabbing your half drunk mug with his own and heading for a refill.

“Well, there’s the rub right there” you agreed, trying to remember all the sections of your home town’s now non-existent library. You thought maybe religion was in the 200’s somewhere… “In Raskolnikov, I mean our buddy Rascal, you see a victim mentality, his own inadequacies and self-sabotage, displaced blame…He’s a big old pot of stew, brewing just below the surface. And then, there’s Plato.”

“Not the friend, right? Talks too much” Joel complained, setting your coffee next to you on the shelf and turning the handle slightly towards you. The small gesture didn’t go unnoticed, as you sallied forth.

“No, not the friend. Like, Plato the philosopher. We don’t have any copies of “The Republic” do we?” you asked, thumbing through the woebegone copy of Curious George you’d stumbled upon.

“Don’t think the bookshop is ready for requests, teach” Joel observed, taking another large sip of his newly refreshed coffee.

“Yeah, I’m getting ahead of myself” you smirked, returning to your task. “Plato was the first philosopher to really start pondering the justice of society. What is considered good? And how do we assess the good of the many versus the needs of the individual?”.

Joel took a pregnant pause, waiting in anticipation for more which never followed. “Well, what’d he say about it?”

“I don’t know, we don’t have a copy of the ‘The Republic’, Miller. Get to work!” you teased, stuffing the copy of Curious George against his chest, which felt like a brick wall under your feathered touch. “Kids section” you decisively stated, looking into Joel’s immovable countenance with joviality. “Something a little easier than ‘Crime and Punishment’”.

“My readin’ level?” he sarcastically quipped, rolling his eyes and looking at the cover.

“Oh no, you’re a man of action around here, I can tell” you intoned, returning to your task at hand. “‘Crime and Punishment’ is written for individuals JUST like us. There’s theory and there’s action, and everything in between. But this old book from the 1800’s is just as relevant as it ever was”. Joel stood before you, resuming his characteristic reticence and gazing at you curiously. 

“I can see why Ellie likes ya” he finally stated, as though casting approval, before disappearing behind a nearby bookshelf to start the kid’s section. Smiling to yourself you winked at Rascal the cat who was purring nearby. Several hours transpired as you and Joel worked together silently, trading books for appropriate sections and slowly making your way through the bookshop and the dwindling pot of coffee. It was nearly noonday when you stood up to achingly stretch, wiping your hands together proudly with the confidence of a hard morning’s work.

“Alright Miller I’m taking off!” you began to shout, turning to find Joel standing a matter of inches away from you. You startled with surprise before crumpling with embarrassment amidst a flurry of anxious giggles. Clearing your throat, you side stepped his broad frame to grab your own copy of “Crime and Punishment” and satchel for the road.

“I mean, ya just got here…” Joel muttered, as Rascal appeared around the corner, attempting to stowaway in your belongings. “What’s the homework, teach?” he shrugged boyishly, casting a glance at his own copy of the classic.

“Let’s see, I think that gets us to the end of Part Two, let’s pick up at the end of Part Three…” you rationalized, kicking playfully at Rascal as it wrapped itself stubbornly around your jeans cuff.

“Alright, you’re bringin’ lunch next time” Joel huffed, returning to the front desk and resuming his recognizable constitution of vexation. Your mouth dropped open with incredulity at his authoritative assumption, before he called after your departing figure.

“Only fair, since I made breakfast” while his face didn’t register any shift in emotion, his voice held a thread of teasing, as you deftly attempted to dislodge Rascal from your ankle.

“You call that breakfast, Miller?!” you bantered, setting the cat atop the nearby quilt, to mewling protestations that were immediately doused by the wintry gale cascading in from the now open doorway. The bell chimed your begrudging departure as Joel looked up from the book directly. 

“See ya tomorrow, teach” he waved with two fingers, returning to his next reading assignment, as you braced yourself for the moderate walk home. Walking a fair pace down main street you hugged the copy of “Crime and Punishment” lovingly to your chest, smiling at the commune’s square come to life with laughing children and approving parents. Pausing for a moment to gaze behind, you could have sworn you saw Joel’s formidable figure standing in the bookshop foyer, looking in your direction, but it was almost immediately gone amidst the flurry of snow and town activity. See ya tomorrow, Miller, you jested, already planning your next passionate…discussion.

@morallyinept @littlemisspascal @wannabe-urs

@beefrobeefcal @sawymredfox @wordywarriorwrites @burntheedges

@janaispunk @inept-the-magnificent @timelordfreya @schnarfer @devineconjuring 

@mermaidgirl30 @mandolover37 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @joelmillerisapunk @jennaispunk 

@sheepdogchick3 @marcus-is-my-muse @guiltyasdave 

@copperhalfcent @bluesweaters15 @drewharrisonwriter @darkheartgatita @princesspurple75

@harriedandharassed @brittmb115 @confusedpuffin @zaniasky @quicax3

@shaunasflannel @anelva @shinyanchorobject @flyingthroughtheave @anoverwhelmingdin 

Pedge's Bookshop The Calm

Grab a Latte! in the foyer with this sweet fic "Just a Cover" by @popcornforone before heading into the Bookshop!

Triggers: profanity, Last of Us canon + references, yay lite smut!, MAJOR spoilers for "Crime and Punishment", references to alcohol/prostitution/murder/rape/death...

Series Masterlist

Words: 3k

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Having Levi and his posse sulk around the commune for the last several weeks was a tumultuous backdrop to the real foreground of your attention; Joel. While the visitors were slated to leave by the end of the month, that did nothing to quell your fears of town gossip or possible altercation. The main protection and acceptance you were currently enjoying was from Joel, and you never wanted it to end.

After that fateful dinner you had expected the participants to shun you or at least offer silent judgement from a watchful distance. But, if anything, it had only seemed to intensify your unique connection to the extended Miller Family. Somehow your own self-perceived fall from grace had engendered more of their affection and resolution. Maria was intent on discussing more of your leadership responsibilities, Tommy seemed exceptionally pleased that Joel and you were spending more time together. Even Ellie was paying rapt attention in class, and seemed to have an ever greater sense of care and support during your interactions. And Joel. Joel had surprised you most of all.

His once stolid and nearly gruff appearance had softened in almost every way; at least when he was around you. You were almost spending more time at the Bookshop than at school, not just to avoid the wandering eyes of Levi and his group, but to vanish in the safety of literature, coffee and your newfound burgeoning relationship with Joel. It was far too early to label anything at this point. You inwardly smirked at the incredulity of it all. A boyfriend, in the midst of the apocalypse? But yours was more than a passing friendship. There was an innate understanding, an “other-ness” that you somehow shared, and within that, had found a sense of belonging. You just didn’t know how far that belonging actually extended.

With Ellie’s help you had nearly finished the Arts and Recreation section, but were newly entrenched in the Literature categorization. Not that you were complaining. Almost everyday, if Joel wasn’t on a patrol, or the school day didn’t encapsulate your existence, you could be found at The Bookshop. Not that Joel ever let anyone shop there. Besides you, Rascal the Cat was his most loyal customer. And while the Bookshop was still in assembly, there was another somewhat clandestine reason; Joel couldn’t keep his hands off you. Only occasionally caught in a lip-lock by Tommy or Ellie, even this indulgence was becoming steadily more difficult, as you found unique ways to extend your ongoing “literary discussion”.

You had already unpacked the varied interpretations of the title, “Crime and Punishment”, indicating that the Russian word for crime was much more indicative of “transgression”. This seemed vaguely appropriate as you lost your train of thought with Joel’s stubbled beard and soft lips winding their way across your clavicle, your voice hitching raspily in your own throat. You tried to explain the import of interpretations like “crossing a line” or “stepping across a barrier”, but that was hard to do when Joel had your eyes rolling back in your head languidly as he cupped your breasts softly in his massive hands. So much for academic objectivity.

One night after Ellie had gone upstairs, you and Joel sat, kissing quietly in front of the living room fireplace, two untouched glasses of whiskey sitting on the handmade coffee table beside you. Joel’s hands had found themselves weighted at your waist, his calloused fingers teasing the hemline of your shirt, tickling the bare skin just beneath. You were straddled across his lap, your breasts nearly in his face as you cupped his jawline tenderly between two hands, licking into his mouth. Pausing to catch your breath, you gently relaxed atop him, feeling his hardened length beneath. You sat lower, wiping his lower lip tenderly with your thumb. 

“I think you might be one of my best students…” you drawled, winking lazily at him, as he gazed darkly back.

“What’dya think Teach, am I gonna get a good grade in class?” his voice edged lowly, making sure to keep quiet, lest Ellie get an earful of your evening activities from upstairs.

“Well, you’ve been doing so much, HANDS-ON…” at this you ground your hips in a circle over Joel’s tented pants, eliciting a groaning growl from him as you clapped a cautious hand over his mouth… “…extra-credit this semester. I would say your grade is rising as we speak…” you taunted, reveling in the pained delight that registered across Joel’s brow. He looked up at your showcased cleavage, licking his lips slowly with anticipation.

“And what about the oral examinations?” he mumbled into your neck, dragging his lips across the delicate skin of your décolletage. “When do those begin?” he teased, sucking lightly, just below your ear, drawing forth small giggles from your trembling mouth. You were just about to answer when Ellie’s door opened, her head buried behind Joel’s copy of “Crime and Punishment”.

“Snake-Eyes DIES?!” she exclaimed somewhere between disbelief and delight, slowly descending the stairs as you repositioned yourselves more appropriately, at arms length. You had just finished smoothing your shirt and adopting an innocent expression when she placed herself in front of you, cocking an eyebrow quizzically.

“I know you’re making out. It’s fine” she bluntly offered, Joel rolling his eyes with exasperation. 

“Did ya need somethin’?” he huffed, crossing his arms with frustration, before joining her line of questioning. “Snake Eyes DIES?!” he scoffed, looking over at you for confirmation. You shrugged enigmatically, a small smile already plastered across your contented face.

“He fucking offs himself!” Ellie smiled, not even attempting to hide her disdain. “I know, I know…LANGUAGE…” she interrupted before Joel even had a chance. But after attacking Dunya and arguing with Rascal. And probably killing the old lady, and maybe harassing the girl. I did NOT see that coming…” she shook her head confusedly.

“Well good-riddance!” Joel shouted, “…sounds like he had it comin’! Only…don’t get too far ahead of me, I only just finished readin’ the dinner scene…” he pouted, kicking Ellie’s boot with his own as she smiled mischievously. 

“Doesn’t seem like you have a lot of time for readin’ lately!” she toyed, dangling the book in front of Joel’s face before he grabbed it defensively, with a knowing grin. 

“Alright, alright…apologize to Teach before she heads home. Sounds like I need to do some research to catch up with y’all” he confessed.

“What am I apologizin’ for exactly?” Ellie sarcastically argued, reaching for the book which Joel swiftly held out of her reach. 

“Seems to me you still owe that report about weather cycles affecting crop rotation and seasonal climate shifts…” you offered, grabbing a pillow in anticipatory defense.

“Snitch” Ellie grinned, grabbing another pillow and hitting your own, before disappearing back upstairs and calling behind her, “BE SURE TO USE A CONDOM!”

“ELLIE!” Joel bellowed, standing to his feet with irritation as you covered your mouth to stifle the latest bout of giggling. Joel stood poised with his hands on his hips, mid-scowl, before noticing your squeaks of embarrassment, his frustration beginning to fade into the distance as he watched you unravel before him. An impish smirk appeared on his face, as he tossed the book to the side and draped his broad form above you.

“Something funny, Teach?” he asked, peppering your sternum with chaste and not so chaste kisses, as your laughter died down to soft hums of approval.

“She sees a lot” you observed, tucking your hands into the back pockets of his jeans as he gently lowered himself to your chest, snuggling in for a respite. 

“This okay? M’not squashin’ ya?” he mumbled into your chest, as his body incrementally relaxed atop you. Guiding your fingers through his peppered locks of hair you parted your legs slightly to capture more of his weight. 

“I’m a bit more durable than all that” you managed, relishing his supine figure before you. After a few minutes the room settled into a contented quiet, so much so that you wondered if Joel had fallen asleep before his low voice tentatively drawled, “You know, you can tell me anything. Anything in the world…” he gulped, unwilling to break the magnetic spell the two of you had crafted, before turning his head upward to catch your gaze. “Just want you to feel safe. Safe as…” he paused, considering his next words cautiously… “…safe as I feel with you” he finished, resting his head back on your chest sweetly. Your heart swelled within you. You didn’t feel a sense of shame, exactly. But wondering how Joel might react to the details of your past was carving a hole in your potential intimacy, and you welcomed the open door of conversation.

“I was young…” you started, as Joel’s head whipped up attentively, shifting his weight to the side of your body on the couch so he could get a better look at you. “I had made it to grad school, but my parents weren’t in the picture so much, and money was starting to get tight”. Joel fixedly held your stare, willing you to feel his support and encouragement if you needed it. “One of my friends had experimented with webcams…Remember those?” you chuckled, as Joel nodded in affirmation, nudging you forward. “Seemed harmless enough at the time. I made a little money with simple tasks at first, but soon I got connected to Levi…”. Joel seemed to stop breathing at the mention of his name, his jaw ticking slightly with restraint. “Well…you’ve met him. He always seem to show up at the ‘right’ moment. Saving the day, but somehow taking advantage simultaneously”. Joel breathed deeply, reaching a hand up to stroke your back in wide circles. “He assured me everything would stay virtual, until…well it didn’t. I was definitely complicit, but before I knew it, I was essentially a call-girl, and everything was very much in-person. Levi decided to really play up the ‘teacher’ aspect of my persona, and it became my calling card. It felt ridiculous to be pursuing my Masters in Education, all the while playing up those same qualities in…more intimate situations” your face reddened slightly at the confession. “It wasn’t really what I wanted. But it paid the bills. And it was my choice. A choice Levi definitely took advantage of, but my choice nonetheless. Sometimes it actually felt empowering. Until…it didn’t…” you trailed off, remembering some of the darker details of those years.

“Should I not call you by that nickname? I didn’t know…” Joel shifted upwards on his forearms, before you halted him mid-apology. 

“I love it. It was always my dream. I love being a teacher, and I don’t regret the choices I made to bring those dreams to fruition. Maybe it didn’t happen the way I dreamt, but it’s still mine” you shook your head with surprise as you articulated your clandestine thoughts for the first time. “Still think you’re one of my best students, Miller” you whispered toyingly, noticing Joel’s cheeks gain a pinkish tint as his chest rumbled in affirmation.

“Looking forward to those oral exams, whenever you feel ready” Joel jested, drawing you in for an extended, passionate kiss. You sighed quietly into his mouth, before he pensively pulled back. “Don’t want you to feel like you have to keep secrets with me” he mused, bringing his forehead tenderly to yours. 

You breathed one another in for several minutes before you hesitantly whispered, “Feel the same way Joel. You know you can tell me anything”. Joel sighed a deep breath of contemplation, rallying himself for the next step.

“Ellie mentioned…my Sarah?” he mumbled, gazing downward so much so that you only saw the beauty of his lashes flitting quickly. 

“YOU mentioned Sarah…” Joel’s quick intake of air at her name, flashed painfully across his face and yours, as his eyesight rose haltingly to catch your own. 

“When…?” he croaked, before closing his eyes in remembrance. “That night…I couldn’t get her outta my head” he nodded, thinking back on the drunken conversation several weeks ago. “The patrol was a nightmare. And…worried about Ellie and you…” he trailed off, trying to piece together the sketchy details, but just reflecting on Sarah’s smile. “You’d’ve liked her” his voice cracked sweetly as you abruptly grasped him around the torso, smashing your face into his chest.

“You don’t have to say anything” the tears welled up within you, desperate to somehow remove the searing pain of loss.

“Not much to tell now” he nearly whimpered. “I had her…and then…I didn’t. Coulda done more. S’my fault…” his throat closed with emotion as you squeezed him tighter still.

“I see the way you love Ellie” you managed to get out thickly. “Can’t convince me otherwise. I know a good dad when I see one…” you encouraged, reaching up to wipe away your tears cascading into Joel’s telltale plaid shirt.

“Nothing I wouldn’t do for that girl” his voice took on a serrated edge, as you pulled back to gaze at him appraisingly. “She mention anything about…how we came to Jacksonville?” he faltered, unsure of his next steps.

“She told me about The Preacher” you swallowed dryly, watching a flicker of rage pass over Joel’s face quickly as he nodded curtly. 

“There’s things…” he tried to continue but was steadily growing more tense “…things you don’t know about Ellie. Or me…” he bit down hard, his mouth a thin line of resolution, watching your eyes narrow judiciously before placing a single finger over his lips wisely.

“What have you done to yourself?” you murmured rhetorically as Joel’s eyes painfully closed, a single tear disappearing into the scruff of his beard. And there you stayed, held in one another’s arms for the evening, until finding a restless sleep. It was early dawn when you disentangled yourselves from one another’s embrace, shakily starting the next day, and whatever the unknown future might hold.

The next day you were scheduled to meet with Tommy and Maria to discuss future administrative plans for the commune. Maria’s pregnancy was really starting to show, and you didn’t dare ask when her potential due date was. You could feel the palpable excitement and tension in the air as you joined them in the town meeting hall.

“Joel doesn’t want to interfere with commune business” Tommy began, shuffling some papers hurriedly before him. 

“Give him a gun and a cause…” Maria shook her head disapprovingly, avoiding Tommy’s reproachful gaze.

“Come on darlin’…” Tommy chastised, sounding once again like his older brother, in voice as much as demeanor. “Told ya we can trust him” Tommy began before Maria halted him silently.

“I know when townsfolk are holding secrets” Maria reprimanded, looking over at you apologetically. “No offense, Teach, just a gift I have. Investigating. Used to be a lawyer in the time before. Comes naturally to me. I know a sinner from a saint, and they’re often one and the same” she wisely observed, before reflecting a bit further. “Except that Levi, for one…” she inhaled skeptically, quickly glancing over at you for confirmation.

“Levi isn’t someone you want around any longer than is absolutely necessary” you bluntly stated, pleased with your growing sense of self-confidence. Maybe Joel was starting to rub off on you.

“I hate to be so beholden to him after their last minute redemptive strike…” she pensively acquiesced.

“Even Joel said he might not have made it back without their assistance…” Tommy chimed in begrudgingly. Joel hadn’t mentioned that. Granted, this was before Levi’s full intentions were known, but were you really willing to sacrifice Joel’s well being for your own discomfort? Maybe there was some kind of olive branch you could extend, making the future somewhat tolerable. You had changed. Maybe other people could too.

“Maybe we could give them some kind of test” you ventured, pursing your lips thoughtfully.

“Alright, Teach!” Tommy cheered, clocking Maria’s chagrin. “Pop quiz time!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, getting a small indication of the Miller playfulness that often lurked mischievously beneath.

“Maybe we send them out on our next dangerous patrol, and keep them on a steady leash” Maria agreed, taking notes in her own administrative notebook. “Good idea…”. Tommy gave a quick clandestine wink that brought a victorious smile to your face, perhaps motivating your next point.

“Regarding…our dinner conversation” you began, before Maria stopped you.

“Water under the bridge…” she tutted, not lifting her eyes from the notebook. You and Tommy shared a pregnant pause, as he returned your gaze definitively.

“We all have a past. Don’t mean we can’t have a future” Tommy succinctly encouraged, eliciting a curt nod from Maria.

“Some secrets should probably stay hidden” you muttered under your breath, reflecting on Joel’s past admonition, noticing Tommy shift uncomfortable in his chair. Maria was breathing steadily across from you, still not looking up.

“You talk to Joel?” she quirked her head to the side, looking at Tommy knowingly before he averted eye contact.

“He said enough” you intimated, sensing the growing tension, though somewhat unaware of its origin. “Told me about Sarah” you finished, attempting to gauge the telepathic conversation happening between the married couple.

“He mention anything else?” Maria probed, Tommy gripping the edges of the table in a stylistically Miller fashion.

“Darlin’…” he warned, shaking his head slightly, in earnest.

Maria clamped her mouth shut skeptically as her brow furrowed in conflict. “I’m not sure how much my….brother in-law might have revealed” she began, weighing her words carefully. “Truth will out” she finally decided, sitting back in her chair resolutely. Tommy sighed a heavy breath, closing his eyes fixedly. 

Truth will out. In Jacksonville you had found a new home and a new start. But perhaps there were some things that should ultimately remain in the past. You thought on Joel’s near confession, and the sheer depth of knowledge you lacked about Ellie, Sarah and so much more. Would it be possible for Levi and his group to somehow fit into the commune without disrupting the precarious new start you had finally crafted for yourself? Or was the future forever fated to be doomed by elements of the past? You wanted to believe in new beginnings. You wanted to believe in love. And more than anything you wanted to know Joel Miller for who he truly was. But as you reflected on your own secrets and the apocalyptic territory you were barely surviving, perhaps there was more still to the enigmatic narrative of Joel and Ellie.

But in this moment, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to find out.

Happy Halloween Pirate Pedge!

Oh my! With the boopage wars I quite nearly forgotten our Halloween Poll for Pedge's costume! I think y'all were inspired by this SAG Awards classic look and voted for Pirate Pedge! Pedge and I managed to write a quick limerick for anyone feeling saucy. I hope your Halloween yields excellent booty. Aarrrrrrgh!

Triggers: smut abounds plentifully in this bizarre Halloween RPF

There once was a Pirate named Pedge Who fancied your fancy to edge He traveled the seas His head twixt your knees Your treasure trove he’d give a stretch. On Sundays you’d walk his hard plank Your tooshie he’d give a quick spank He’d shout, “‘Vast there mate!” Your lips penetrate Or watch as you had a quick wank Pirate Pedge never is snooty His hours he’ll spend seeking booty While walking the deck Your pussy he’ll wreck Considering it true beauty’s duty His sword is beyond earthly measure When plowing canals for their treasure When seeking medallions He’s one sexy stallion And always cums after YOUR pleasure On Mondays when feeling quite bold You like a quick tease and a scold He’s captain to you You like playing “crew” And always do just what you’re told. While searching your map for the “X” He’ll spot the right spot during sex Like coins for your slot He’ll leave you besot And edge you till happily vexed Discarding his fancy eye patch His lips to your lips he will latch The seas are quite violent But you are quite pliant And love when that itch will get scratched So here’s to a holiday haul And hoping we all have a ball Whether treating or tricking Licking or flicking A Happy Halloween for ALL!

Pedge Bookshop Art

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".

“We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.” “Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.” “That's why I drink too. I try to find sympathy and feeling in drink…. I drink so that I may suffer twice as much!” “Power is given only to him who dares to stoop and take it … one must have the courage to dare.” “Do you understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn?” “Only to live, to live and live! Life, whatever it may be!” “Through error you come to the truth! I am a man because I err!”

Friendly Frankie

Ooooh, @auteurdelabre told me they are working on a SECOND coloring book for us!? I'm not even done with the first! An embarrassment of riches! I don't write for Frankie very often, but when I do...I seem to be gushing about it. If you're looking for something saucy, don't forget to check out my "Moody Frankie Fic". Coulda used him last night....Pair it with Frankie's Favorites for the full experience and enjoy :)

Pedro, Painter, Poet

I'm a published author and musician, which takes up a tremendous amount of my professional and personal time. So when I have a recreational moment, I like to explore an artistic medium outside of my expertise. I like utilizing Klimt, Frida Kahlo, Pablo Neruda, Georgia O' Keefe, Shakespeare and many other artists, as you can see! Pedge says he is a self-made man which is 100% true, but I haven't had the heart to tell him he's also made by Bitmoji...Let's get artistic!

Pedro At the Beach

Refugee Day

Pride

Pedge Paints

Make Your Own Kind of Music

Happy Birthday to Me!

Purple Rain

Bi-Visibility Week

Pedro-Tober!

Trick or Treat

Pirate Pedge Poetry

Ode to Gratitude; Marcus Moreno

Pedro Stories Secret Santa

Pedge Bookshop Art

Crime + Punishment

Fantastic Four

The Oberyn Days

Javi's Afterglow

Pike's Picture

Friendly Frankie

Pena's Pose

Dostoyevsky + the Slutty Knee

Dostyevsky + The Dream

All About Eve

April Showers Prompt

Disability Visibility

Clint's Freaky Tales

Fink's Phrases

The Last of Us

Mister Fantastic

Pedge Pose

What Happened to Belen?

Through the Valley

Belen

Hold You Me

Mustafa's New Anthology

God Said No

Baby Pedge

Laker's Shirt

Critic's Choice

The Uninvited

Cannes (Eddington)

WIP; In Cold Blood

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!

Moody Dio

OMG I haven't even seen this episode. This is what it looks like when you are avoiding your tax preparation, but I don't even care. Look how cute our goth criminal is! I want to squish him...