So I Wrote Up This Whole Big Long Thing But It Was Too Much When The Gist I Was Trying To Get At Was

So I wrote up this whole big long thing but it was too much when the gist I was trying to get at was this:

What if you and Derek are crushing on each other in Step 2 but neither of you do anything, like normal, then you move on and date around after and date Baxter in Step 3, and you like him a lot and all but your heart still belongs to Derek. Then finally in Step 4 you and Derek confess that you're in love and you move into his cool apartment, but like a month later you run into Baxter while planning Jude and Scott's wedding.

You still want to be with Derek, that's your soulmate, but it's a shock to see Baxter, and you do want to be friends with him. Which Derek is totally cool with, he would never in a million years try to tell you that you couldn't be friends with anyone. But what he DOES do is [redacted] the [redacted] out of you every night (and day, honestly) of that whole scenario. You go back to Baxter's apartment after the wedding to talk? Ok, wait till you get home. You have drinks with Baxter to get a friendship going then go dancing with him? Fine, but guess who's going to be ripping your fancy clothes off that night?

Derek really is sincerely fine with you doing these things with Baxter, he's genuinely happy that you're reconnecting with someone who meant a lot to you, even if your relationship was romantic in the past. And Baxter doesn't have bad intentions either, he's so happy that you're with someone you truly love and just wants to be friends with you. It's not a jealousy thing at all. Possessive? Maybe a little, but not in a toxic way. It's more about Derek's competitive, impulsive streak coming out. Hope you're ready!

I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THISSSSS THEIR DYNAMIC??? GOLD!!! GOLD I TELL YOU!!!!! INCREDIBLE, WONDERFUL, LIFECHANGING, THIS IS *GOOD SHIT*

Played our life the other day and i havent been the same since.

Anyways say hi to my mc Korina Jamie Last 😇😇😇 (just Kori is fine)

what-ifs

NEW DNI INTERACT

NO SETETH ENJOYERS

NO SETETH SIMPS

NO ONE WHO VOTED FOR SETETH

SETETH

I will hunt you down and forcefeed you soggy cereal.

my filipino rep i love this sm

Your Move (new chapter)

fandom: our life: beginnings and always

relationships: main character/baxter ward

characters: main character, baxter ward, side characters appearing

words: 5042

Read on AO3 (must be logged in) or below the cut.

“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

- Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

Between the two of them, it’s her who first crosses the minuscule gap between their lips.

He’s given her just the smallest margin to take back her words — the last warning for Little Red to never stray off the path as she enters the dense, dark woods. If she takes back her acceptance of this summer courtship, he tells himself that he’ll be alright: he’s seen it. The glimmer of hesitance in her eyes at the knowledge that this would be but a midsummer night’s dream shared between them.

Baxter would be fine if this ephemeral connection ends. But would she?

He tells himself that he’s given her fair warning. Perhaps if he reminds himself enough times, he’ll believe it.

And yet… wasn’t he also the one to present it as a harmless, low-stakes affair?

Baxter Ward, you really are the worst, he tells himself as he melts into the kiss.

She’s soft against him; he cups the back of her head like she’s made of glass. One hand hovers in between them in uncertainty until he captures it with his, as he’s longed to this whole day. Up this close, he catches a whiff of her, an intoxicating mix of vanilla and jasmine. He wants to swallow her whole like the wretched wolf, but holds himself at bay: Baxter Ward will be a gentleman.

As he pulls back, his eyes narrow at the way she chases his lips for more. 

Greedy little thing, isn’t she?

“Perhaps I should have anticipated that you’d be the one to pull a move on me, so soon. You’re always been quite daring.”

She raises a brow, soft cheeks aglow with heat and shining eyes brighter than the stars on a clear summer night. He needs her to stop looking at him like that, else he won’t be able to stop... “Is that a compliment, Mr. Ward?”

He cups her jaw in his hand, brushing his thumb over her lip; her gloss smears a faint pink on his skin. Baxter hardly notices this, though he knows he will stare at it later. Intent on the shiver his motions elicit, he murmurs, “It’s far from unwelcome, truly.” With one last swipe, he settles for something much less dangerous. He takes her into his arms, feeling her own wrap around his back.

They hold each other for a moment longer, her head slotting under his chin like the missing piece of a puzzle.

“Well, then. At the risk of sounding like a broken record - have a good night, Wisteria.”

They step back from each other, slow and reluctant. She lets out a gusty sigh as she looks up at him once more, a wry grin creeping forth.

“Goodnight, Baxter.”

He watches her until she’s safely slipped into her house.

“Sweetie! You’re back! I heard the door open…” A couple of loud voices, likely her mothers’, and warm light welcome Wisteria. She moves as if to slip through the entrance, when she pauses and glances over her shoulder. 

Baxter puts on a smile, just in time, for the brief moment she looks back at him and nods. 

And then, she’s gone; he’s once again reminded that he’s just a tourist, here to sightsee , not to be a part of someone’s life. 

The front door to the Blanc residence closes.

And he remains standing there; a singular, adrift figure on the darkening street, for a little while longer. Until the silence of his condo can no longer go unheeded.

Wisteria across street! : Good morning, Baxter. I take it that you’ve had a wonderful night? Or I hope so. Today, I would like for you to open a spot in your flexible schedule. You are hereby invited to dinner with the Blanc family at six pm. I’ll pick you up at your doorstep, ten minutes before.

Wisteria across street!: how was that? rate it for me, lover boy

Twinkletoes: A riveting ten out of ten, my dear Wisteria. I have no choice but to oblige such a gracious overture from your family. Now, I must find a proper gift for my hosts, with haste.

Wisteria across street!: oh. thanks. this isn’t optional, btw.

Wisteria across street!: my moms want to see you.

Wisteria across street!: or as Liz calls you, my “gentleman caller”

Twinkletoes: Far be it for me to turn down such a request. Now, do any of your family members happen to be allergic to certain foods?

Elizabeth Blanc is more than just a little intimidating, sitting so proper on the living room couch with the airs of a monarch entertaining her subjects. The true queens of this little kingdom, of course, are off to the kitchen. Their indulgent grins can be seen if one only cares to turn their head. He can’t pretend to be unaware of the little snickers coming from Pamela as Noelani elbows her, but he can surely try... If only for his girlfriend’s sake.

The youngest of the family is absent from his side, shooting him helpless looks as they set her on the crucial task of preparing the dining table. For someone so unafraid to brandish her claws at him since their very first meeting, Wisteria is docile around her family.

“So you’re the charmer who’s got Ria all wound up lately? Nice to meet you again.”

It takes little guesswork to learn where Wisteria’s occasional sharp, taunting looks come from, when faced with the inexorable evidence. He still thinks that hers are more intimidating, unassailable grey against her sister’s sharp brown eyes. It is completely absent in this instance in this occasion, the glimpses he catches of her face showing him a look of silent panic.

“The pleasure is all mine, Elizabeth.” He meets her keen smile with one of his own. “Thank you for inviting me to partake in your family’s evening meal.”

The elder Blanc sister waves one airy hand.

“No need to thank us, you’ll probably be seeing us more.” Her eyes crinkle at the edges. “Moms have wanted to learn more about you. Even before you swept my little sister off her feet.”

The little sister scoffs as she gingerly carries a steaming platter. “I was not swept off. It was a more mutual exchange than that.” 

Perhaps not that docile, after all…?

Baxter’s caught in the crossfire between sisters as she flicks a warning look at him. He grins at her, saccharine-sweet.

“Truly, Wisteria was the one who charmed me out of sense when she treated me like a princess, showing me the best places in your lovely town. On top of the wonderful little meals she sometimes drops off for me, I have a lot to thank her for.”

Despite the way it starts out teasing, his voice is soft and full of sincere gratitude. Her eyes widen, and soon she’s unable to hold his gaze, scurrying back to the kitchen to the tittering of her mothers. 

“Sis…” Elizabeth snickers, watching them both with a worrying glint in her eye. “You love to play it cool, but you were red as a lobster when you came inside that night. The last time you were this flustered was when that Suarez boy proposed to you, and back then you were more concerned about how to react appropriately than anything!”

Smack.

His lovely, mostly implacable, oftentimes sharp and observant, utterly adorable girlfriend… Turns around so fast, she stumbles in her slippers and bumps hard into the kitchen island with her hip. She yelps, slamming her palms flat on the countertop. For a moment, all is still. And then she takes a deep breath in, exhales through her nose.

Familiar motions, somehow. A language he knows how to speak, heard from the lips of someone else. It feels so very alien, to watch someone correct themselves before they show distress, and for that someone to not be himself.

“I was. Thirteen. Saying ‘thanks, you too’ isn’t weird.” Despite the pain making her bite out her words, Wisteria keeps a straight face. She doesn’t meet anyone’s gaze.

Baxter finds this concerning. He rises up from his appointed seat before he can think better of it. It’s only when he’s close enough to grab her that he comes to his senses. His hand comes up to touch her arm, only to stop short and hover by her skin. Don’t overstep, her family is here and she’ll prefer them over you. “Wisteria? Forgive me, but that seemed quite painful. Are you alright?”

Somehow, this is enough to rouse her mothers and sister out of their stupor, for better or worse.

Noelani reacts first, amber eyes wide as she exclaims, “My dear! That was quite the fall…” Unlike him, she touches her daughter, patting her back. “You could sit down with Baxter and Liz, now.”

“We’ll handle this,” her wife follows up, already taking charge of the situation as she looks over the remaining dishes to be served. Before she takes to the task, however, Pamela shoots her elder daughter a frown. “Elizabeth Blanc, do not tease your sister too much for this dinner.”

The elder sister finally speaks, contrite enough to wince as she eyes her little sister. “I’m sorry, sis. That was a bit too much.” 

“I’m fine.” Wisteria shrugs her mother’s hand off, composure back in place, even if it’s… Dubious. She turns to him; with one look into his face, the forced smile on her lips falls flat. “But I’ll take you up on that offer, mother dearest.” Sprightly, her words are, as if the entire situation is just a trifling matter to brush under the rug. 

For all he knows, maybe it is. 

So he inserts himself into the conversation, hoping that there is something he could at least do. Turn up the charm, Baxter; distract her, do anything you must. Make sure this evening will be a good one for your summer crush. He can do that much, can’t he? “Let’s not pass up this chance, shall we? Come sit with me, darling.” 

Her fingers entwine with his. With a small laugh, she pulls on his arm to guide him back to the living room. “Have you been waiting for this?”

“Of course.” Baxter settles on the couch, tugging her down with him. Because he can feel the elder sister’s attention on him, not to mention her mothers being nearby, he tenses up when she presses up against him. She cuddles against his side, nudging her head against his shoulder and sighing into his shirt. Affection, freely given, even under the eyes of her family, all of whom must see him as an outsider.

It makes him feel like less of one. As if he truly could have a place in this house. 

Odd how that works.

His face feels hot, despite the air-conditioned living room. But he takes this in stride, and grins as he nudges her back. “I do hope that you and your family will be delighted with my gift.” The aforementioned gift sits on their coffee table, right beside the little potted succulent. A box of chocolate truffles, sourced from the best chocolatier he could find with his connections.

He had shopped for it on short notice, years of etiquette lessons impressing the need to be a perfect dinner guest. Despite, for all intents and purposes, this dinner being a casual affair. When was the last time he was invited along to a dinner like this? Baxter remembers sitting down to a hot, homemade meal years ago; the taste of Mrs. Murray’s gingerbread and hot cider is still easy to recall, all these years later. But he knows that if he tried gingerbread and cider now, it wouldn’t taste the same without his friends’ laughter and voices around the table.

“... Your girlfriend is a chocolate addict, Baxter Ward.” Elizabeth smirks at him, though he notes that there’s less of a bite to it now. She no longer seems like a lioness sizing up a belligerent stray male who is intruding on the pride. He is unsure what to make of this. “You did just fine. Though we might need to be fast or else we wouldn’t even get to try any of them out.”

Wisteria scoffs aloud, though she doesn’t stir from her cozy position using his shoulder as a cushion. “I have better manners than that.”

“Really, sis? You? Remember the time you ran off with the fruit bouquet Mr. Holden gave us, and shared it willy-nilly with his son and Derek Suarez?”

“Why do you remember so many things that I did when I was thirteen?”

“It’s my duty as the eldest to keep a record of our family history, duh.”

“Fine. I’ll eat your share of the chocolate, just you wait.”

“Hah, knew it. You can try, little sister.”

Watching the sisters, Baxter wonders — not for the first time, whenever he sees siblings — what life would have been like, if his illustrious parents had deemed it worth bringing another life into the world after him. He promptly feels sickened enough to purge the idea from his mind. It would not be like this: a living room with parents who truly care enough to look at their daughters with the most achingly soft eyes, cooking dinner with their own hands. 

The scent that tickles his nose — Hawaiian cuisine, Noelani had said so earlier — is so far removed from the incredible, yet oh-so-empty French and other European cuisines that so often grace the expansive dining table of his family estate.

Movement against his shoulder drags him out of the heavy mire that his thoughts have become. “Hey, wanna come up to my room later?” His eyebrows fly up at the way Wisteria phrases her request, grin widening. She catches on just a split second later, and blanches. Baxter briefly mourns the loss of her warmth against his shoulder as she sits bolt upright. “Oh, shit- Ma, it’s not like that.” 

Too late. They’re beset on all sides by blatant stares. 

Cupping her cheek in her palm, Noelani giggles at her own daughter. Ever the one to so gleefully stir the pot, even if she seems the sweeter parent. “Whatever isn’t like what, Ria?”

Wisteria squints at her mother, the slight jut of her bottom lip quite mulish. “I was gonna invite him to play… Chess. Or watch me play music, whichever.” She huffs out, and sags against the back of the couch. “And not whatever weird things you two are clearly imagining.”

Her two mothers share a silent look, gauging the situation. Despite the teasing way Noelani responded, there’s still some unspoken boundaries within this house. And this is confirmed when Pamela speaks in her place. “Well, you two are of age. Plus Baxter here seems like quite the gentleman.” Her dark eyes pierce his, pinning him in place. “And it’s not as if he’s the first boy who’s been in your room. The neighbor’s son actually climbs into your window whenever he feels like it.”

Baxter can’t quite control the expression that steals across his face, when he hears that. Whatever it must have been, he hears Elizabeth snort as she watches him.

“Cove’s like a brother to her, so I dunno about that argument, Mom.”

Noelani intervenes, once again, with a gentle look aimed his way. “I think it will be fine. Wisteria is already eighteen, Pam.” She squeezes her arm around her wife’s midsection and tilts her head. “Now, shall we eat? I don’t know about you all, but I am pretty hungry for that huli-huli chicken.”

“What do you know, I feel the same way,” Wisteria says, eager to grab on to the lifeline that her mother is gracious to hold out. She stands up, stretching her arms above her head with an absent mutter. He might have been better off if he wasn’t watching; her cream-colored, oversized graphic tee rides up, showing off the black jean shorts that only cover her legs down to mid-thigh. 

When she had come to pick him up for dinner, he had noticed what she was wearing. There just was never a good time to appreciate it. Now he’s abruptly reminded again, and in front of her family.

Not for the first time, Baxter wonders if she’s a test that some deity put on earth for him to pass. He chuckles as he agrees with her, turning away. “If it is anything like what she let me try, consider me famished.” 

Everyone else murmurs in agreement, heading towards the dinner table. As he’s deliberating on where to sit, a hand grabs his forearm. Wisteria leads him to sit down beside her on one side of the long table; Pamela and Noelani, being proper hosts, sit on either end. This situates him closer to Noelani, with Elizabeth sitting across from her sister. A glance at his girlfriend betrays to him that this is all intentional on her part.

With seating arrangements settled, he casts a curious eye at the offerings on the table. Baxter considers himself to be adventurous enough. When he has to live up to the title of tourist, exploring everything this place has to offer and enjoying it, to spit at what his parents are attempting?  This is even more important.

The tupperware meals that Wisteria Blanc gives him, from time to time, are nice. A younger version of himself would have balked at being offered what his parents would sneer at as leftovers , unworthy of gracing the Ward dining table — despite it being the very same food that they were not able to finish the night before, on that same damned dining table. He’s learned to be much less a fastidious eater, since attending college. But not by much, considering it’s still a private institution attended by young adults of similar economic standing as him.

And yet, faced with a freshly-cooked Blanc dinner, he finds himself frozen in indecision. Should he pick the chicken that Noelani had mentioned, first? Or should that fragrant-smelling rice be his first choice? What if Wisteria had helped make something, should he get that and praise her for her efforts, make her happy as a good boyfriend?

“Give me your plate.” A delicate hand picks up his plate. He turns, halfway, to blink at Wisteria. Her lips twitch as she turns towards the table. Without a word, she begins piling his plate with food. Under the amused gaze of her entire family, she picks out what he assumes are the best choices… 

For him. Baxter feels his chest tighten, and looks at the plate she sets down before him once it’s over. “Tell me if it’s too much, I’ll take the extra off your hands.”

“What have I done,” he wonders aloud, uncaring of who hears. “To deserve such wholesome, solicitous treatment, my dear girlfriend?” If he’s the only one aware of how truthful this question is, instead of the joke they must take it for —  it’s between him and the same deity who’s testing him with this woman.

His dear girlfriend rolls her eyes and turns to her own food, spearing a hunk of chicken on her fork. “Gee, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s because you are my boyfriend. Or the time you insisted on paying for dinner, at The Cypress. Or I just like looking out for you, when you look so lost.”

I just like looking out for you echoes far too loud in his headspace. His face feels hot again, but he focuses instead on taking a bite out of the food she so thoughtfully got for him. 

It… It’s not the ginger bread or the hot cider of his youth, not the autumnal dishes that he’s grown up trying with his friends. It’s not an exquisite French cassoulet, stewed painstakingly within a Dutch oven for hours, or a masterfully made soufflé prepared by a wealthy household’s skilled cook. And yet, Baxter feels the flavors burst on his taste buds, unmatched by almost any other food he’s tried on his extensive trips outside the country with his family.

He closes his eyes, feels Wisteria’s stare burn into the side of his face. Of all the attractions that Sunset Bird holds for a man like him, a man whose first choice isn’t a seaside town so close to the ocean he’s so afraid of… This might be his favorite. An experience that, for him, will never be replicated: not with the way his relationships go.

It’s the taste of home, and he’s never experienced this comfort within the house he grew up in; it’s a nearly foreign feeling. Baxter will treasure this, for the days to come when he no longer has Sunset Bird to call as his temporary home.

“That good, huh?” Mutters Wisteria, low enough for only him to hear. “Well, eat up. There’s plenty more where that comes from.”

“See, Pam, I told you that fried rice was a great idea!” Noelani exclaims at her wife, from one end of the table to the other. “You were worried about it being appropriate for dinner, but look, he likes it.”

With some unseen effort, he turns his attention to his hosts. “It’s wonderful. I have not experienced home cooking like this for quite some time, much less Hawaiian cuisine prepared authentically by someone like Mrs. Noelani.” To think that their daughters grew up eating this, he leaves unsaid, he is… not just a little bit envious.

The two older women share yet another look with words unspoken between them. Baxter feels himself tense a bit, wondering if he conveyed himself appropriately enough, when Pamela replies. “We make a bit extra these days, what with the Holdens sometimes eating dinner here, with us… So! Wisteria takes those containers to you often, correct? We can cut the middleman.” She raises her brows at him. “What I mean to say is, you’re welcome to come over, if you want.”

Why did they have to put him on the spot, like this? Not that he’s unused to such situations, but… 

“But only if you want to,” Wisteria cuts in, sharp as she assesses him. He wants to hide his face, this time, but that would be impolite. “I’d also like to eat with you, at your place. Girlfriend rights, and all that.”

Baxter resorts to the best weapon he’s honed for years, once again, and smiles with his lips closed. “I would be very amenable to either such options, Mrs. and Mrs. Blanc. Perhaps once a week should be good?” He’s only here for the summer, but that should be enough not to make them think he’s ungrateful. How could he be when they’ve treated him like this?  

But it has to be infrequent enough that he’s not in danger of entrenching himself too deep. 

This reminder is like a cold splash of water in his face, but his smile remains affixed through years of practice. He pushes through it, and murmurs with a soft grin her way. “And of course, Wisteria is welcome to my place whenever she wants.”

Dinner continues at a pleasant, unhurried pace. In between bites of food, amidst the clinking of silverware and glass, he waits for the expected motive behind this invitation. He’s prepared for the probing questions about where he studies, what he’s studying, and where he’s from. A reply is on the tip of his tongue for any questions dancing around the topic of his own family. We live on a fair-sized estate, out of town… Words he’s uttered with practice to people who try to get to know him.

Wisteria may have questioned him during their date, but years of ingrained habits have taught him to remain vigilant.

The questions don’t come. Pamela and Noelani Blanc instead give him such warm grins as they pepper him with questions about the sights he’s seen in Sunset Bird, if he’s comfortable with his accommodations, and how his health is coming along. Is he able to relax, taking a semester off? 

“Sunset Bird is enchanting.” His own answer comes as a surprise to him, how easily it comes out without being a disgusting untruth. “I have never been elsewhere with such welcoming people. The view does take some getting accustomed to.” Here, he laughs, a touch dry. Looking at the endless expanse of blue on the coast is still a little gut-wrenching, but they don’t need to know that. “But I believe it shall be less daunting, with Wisteria by my side.”

Elizabeth hums to herself, eyeing her sister with a furtive raised brow. “It’s surprising. Ria usually doesn’t go out much, but this summer seems to be all about experiencing as much as she could before she goes to college. And you are part of why she doesn’t stay holed up inside.” 

That’s… Baxter compels himself to ignore how much that implies. “I think, between the two of us, we can endeavor to make this an unforgettable summer.”

She turns on him, displays what seems to be a recurring family trait of pinning him in place with a single look. “Feels like you’re good for each other, that way? Sheesh,” Elizabeth lets out an aggrieved noise, pointing her fork at him in accusation. “I planned on being difficult, but you kinda won me over. What’s your secret, Victorian Emo Man?”

Good for each other? You? If only they knew.

He blinks at her, all innocence and confusion. Beside him, Wisteria chokes back a laugh as he replies with every ounce of self-possession within him. “Certainly, I’m glad to hear it. I would so hate it if two of her favorite people are at odds with each other. Wouldn’t you?” After a pregnant pause where they both watch the myriad expressions on Elizabeth’s face, he turns toward the snickering mess beside him. 

It takes a good moment to recollect herself. “... Okay, okay,” she sighs, smugness lending a certain edge to the smile she flashes her sister. “That face is good enough for me. I won’t eat her share of the chocolate at two am when I know she’s asleep.”

“Oh god. There’s two of them.” As her elder sister gives an affected shudder, their mothers look on with satisfaction. 

This dinner is a tentative success, even with the awkward way it began.

He never did get to see her room after dinner. The hour passes by him like sand slipping through the narrow gaps between his fingers. That evening only leaves him with the impression of dizzying warmth and acceptance; the last thing he remembers is silken strands of fine ombre hair tickling his neck as lithe arms squeeze him tight before he leaves. Baxter can only assume that he stumbled into his condo afterwards. Perhaps he had one of the best sleeps he’s ever had (he can count such occasions with the fingers of one hand).

Wisteria texts him the morning after, though he only gets to read it around lunchtime.

Wisteria across street!: ok so you didn’t get to visit my room but  Wisteria across street!: the invitation is still open Wisteria across street!: though uh Wisteria across street!: you should try the front door first instead of pulling a cove holden. no need to give my moms heart attacks. my room is upstairs and i don’t know if you’ve ever climbed up a wall.

Sitting alone in a café, Baxter taps out a reply, careful consideration going into each and every word. He’s in rather high spirits, enough that he feels awake even when the black coffee he ordered sits mostly untouched on top of his table. 

Twinkletoes: You wound me with your lack of faith in my climbing skills, Ria. But yes, I believe coming to your room for the first time deserves a bit more decorum than stealing in through your window like some rogue. Wisteria across street!: … are you calling the literal human cinnamon roll that is cove james holden a rogue? Wisteria across street!: wait Wisteria across street!: you called me ria.

His lips curl in satisfaction as he waits for his order. It’s easy to picture it, the rosy hue of her cheeks and ears to match the wide-eyed look on her face. What more could happen, if he whispers it while leaning in close enough to watch the expression on her face bloom?

“Your breakfast quiche, sir.”

“Wonderful. Thank you for such prompt service,” he acknowledges the waitress with a brief smile before he turns back to his phone. 

Twinkletoes: Oh? Do you not want me to address you by that? Wisteria across street!: you can Wisteria across street!: i was just surprised Wisteria across street!: anyway, you’re probably gonna get an opportunity to come over very soon. terri, miranda and cove want to meet up this sunday. Wisteria across street!: we’re gonna hang out at the beach

… His stomach twists when he reads her last message. Setting his phone down, he starts on his brunch. The pastry tastes like nothing in his mouth, but he has to eat to keep up his energy. He’s not so dysfunctional a young adult as to forget that. Though this is what his parents believe, to go so far as to sequester him for his vacation so near the ocean.

So what if he’s always feared the unfathomable depths of a body of water that makes up seventy percent of the earth?

Children ought to grow up and learn how to stomach their vegetables. This is not so different, though his parents have never given enough of a damn to check if their ten-year old son could digest a heavy cream soup while he was sweating and shivering in bed, caught up in a fever. The maid made sure he was able to eat some bread, so what did it matter if he threw up most of that dinner? 

The quiche sits like a dead weight in his gut when he picks up his phone. 

I would love to come appreciate the beach with everyone. Your thoughtfulness, including me in your plans, is incredible. To play host to me before your scheduled gathering, even more so. I look forward to seeing you all.

Author's Comment: So I don't know if it's a cultural difference, since I'm not American. But I found it kind of... odd? How the DLC never brought up if the MC's family never tried to get to know the boy she's suddenly announced herself dating to them. I know that it takes time for some people to bring home their significant others to meet their families, that's pretty normal. But I think it's a mite different when your teenage daughter/sister is suddenly dating someone from right across the street. You would think they would invite him over for a meal or two.

Since I'm Filipino, some of the cultural stuff that I've grown up with are intentionally included: namely, giving food in tupperware containers to your neighbors if you made too much, sometimes also sharing fruit you bought, etc. Within the story, this is explained by Noelani also having some Filipino heritage (even if she is majority Hawaiian). Wisteria is a Fil-Chi mestizo. This is rounded out with her elder sis Liz canonically being Filipino.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

this is my first time doing an ask kfjhg but i love your fics and h/cs so much!! they're so cute and well written and make me smile :)) anyway, i think it would be cool to see a pov from baxter for the swap au? maybe during/after the almost-kiss scene or the confession scene would be so adorablee!! only an idea, though! ^^

Here is Baxter's confession for reference! And here it is from his point of view :)

Baxter had a good life.

He'd landed his dream job straight out of college, mixing his knack for leadership and practical knowledge of formal events (not to mention his love of romance) to be a wedding planner. He had a beautiful home. He had friends and family -- found family, anyway, with your parents and sister that had essentially counted him as a fourth family member for most of his life.

Still, he wanted more. He wanted you.

He had for years. You were his first crush, his only crush, and that crush had steadily over time developed into something much, much deeper. He couldn't see himself with anyone else but you, and he'd never even wanted to try.

There had been a handful of moments that had made Baxter think you might feel the same way. There was that phase during adolescence when his usual affections, all the hugs and hand-holding and linked arms, had stopped being accepted so easily and started bringing out blushes that made his little heart swell with pride. And prom night was something he thought of a bit more frequently than your average 23-year-old -- it was a night full of dancing and stolen looks that finished off with him holding you close against him, hand cupping your cheek and going in for a kiss that was stopped prematurely when your mom had interrupted.

"I believe it is time for a confession, no?" Xavier had told him over drinks one evening. "Time to put it out in the open instead of wasting time on baseless fears that your feelings won't shared."

Baseless as they may be, Baxter was still scared -- terrified even -- of telling you how he felt. What if he'd been reading the signals wrong? What if your lingering hugs were just habit, the goosebumps he felt when he slipped your bare arm through his because of something other than just being close to him?

If he lost you ...

Xavier wasn't the first person who called him out on this, far from it. Even when you were 13, Cove had bluntly asked him why he wasn't dating you, it was obvious to him, he'd said, that you both liked each other.

After you started hanging out with Miranda in high school, then when Terry started coming around too, they'd teased the both of you about it. Even now, when the four of you went out whenever you found your way back in the area, Terry cackled when he called your hangouts "double dates."

Almost as far back as he could remember, Liz had teased him, asking him when he'd become an official member of the family. It seemed like everyone who knew you both were just waiting on you to finally get together, but even despite all that encouragement, it was something he felt like he just couldn't risk.

Then, the night of your mothers' anniversary party, something changed.

He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly. Maybe it was having you right next to him again after a good few years of only seeing each other every few months. Maybe it was the night before, when you stayed with him at his apartment and let him cook dinner for you, a preview of the domestic bliss he longed for with you. Or maybe he'd just had enough of being scared.

After a lovely party full of family, friends and dancing, Baxter quickly came up with a plan of action

"I have a proposition," he told you. "Do you think after we leave here, you might indulge me just a little?"

"In what way?" you asked.

"It's a surprise," was all he'd give away.

You agreed, and when the party was over, he walked you to his car and drove you back home to Sunset Bird.

Ever since he was very small, even before he moved within walking distance of a beach, he'd been terrified of the ocean. It was so big and so dark, and growing up in his home, he already had the feeling that the world would someday, one way or another, swallow him up and destroy him. He wasn't going to throw himself right into the abyss of the sea with that weighing over his head.

So, Baxter thought on the drive, if he could get over that, if he could hold your hand and wade into that frightening water, then maybe he could do the same thing metaphorically.

He parked outside your parents' house, and you hadn't figured it out. Even when he walked you to the shore and started removing his clothes, you still didn't quite get it. But that was all right -- he'd been waiting over a decade for this moment, it could stretch out a bit.

"I want to go swimming," he told you after he'd stripped down to his underwear. "With you. Out there. That's the surprise."

He saw your eyes widen, and he smiled. When you started taking your clothes off too, his smile remained in place, though it was a bit darker this time. He'd seen you in your swimsuit countless times over the years, but being out here like this, in your underwear in the dim moonlight, it was different.

Trying to focus on the task at hand, he walked down to the water. He'd gone up to his knees plenty of times, but now he kept going. He did need to take your hand to steady his nerves, but he was too close to stop now.

Once the water got up to his chest, he let out a laugh, in disbelief that he managed to get this far. You encouraged him, just like you always did, but he had more to prove, so he let go of you and started swimming in earnest.

After a moment, he realized it: he was fine. He was facing his fear, and he was surviving. It was the most freeing feeling in the world, and he smiled so wide his cheeks ached, splashing around out there around you. He felt invincible.

Holding onto the feeling, he made his way closer to the shore so he could stand solidly again. When you were close enough, he moved his hands through the water, found your hips and grabbed on, pulling you close. Before he could think about it too much, he brought his lips to meet yours.

There was a moment of hesitation, or maybe surprise, but soon you wrapped yourself around him and kissed him back. He smiled against you, not breaking the kiss, and tried to press you even closer to him. When he needed a breath, he'd pull back just enough to move his kisses to your cheek, your neck, your shoulders that glistened under the moon ...

It was heaven.

When he needed a real break, he couldn't bring himself to let you go, instead choosing to rest his forehead against yours. His smile was still firmly in place.

"What was that for?" you asked quietly.

"For being you," he said easily. "For being my favorite person. For being patient with me even though I should have done that years ago."

He melted when you started playing with his hair, and he saw that you weren't pulling away either. You were there, not wanting to let go of him either. You wanted him the same way he wanted you. If he'd ever felt this blissful, he certainly couldn't remember it.

"Baxter?" you said, breaking the silence.

"Yes?"

"Ask me the question again."

He did pull back at that to examine your expression. "The question" was one you both knew all too well, it was one he'd asked over and over since he'd moved to Prism Vista City. He wanted you to live with him, always telling you that he'd gotten a place with a guest room specifically for you. But the way you posed that question now gave him pause. Despite how well the evening was going, he couldn't help but think that surely there was a limit to this kind of exquisite happiness.

But he was never one to turn you down, so he asked.

"Will you move in with me?"

He watched you grin at him, and then you took your turn to make the first move. You were kissing again, slower this time, more deliberate. There was almost a lifetime of wanting that he was trying to express, and with the way you held him, it seemed like you'd been wanting him for quite a while too.

"That's a yes," you told him when you pulled away. "Just in case it wasn't obvious."

Instead of beginning to discuss the move, the logistics, the timeline, any of that, even instead of going back to kissing you, he took a moment to take one more leap.

"I am so deeply, desperately in love with you," he said. "Is that all right?"

"That's perfect," you told him.

And you were right. It was.