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Yearning for Our Unicity	By : LuluDreams Category: S through Z > YOU Views: 63 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: all characters belong just and only to the marvelous Caroline Kepnes, Netflix etc, I just own my sick ideas, lol

Chapter List
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I already started to post it in other platform, I was unsure if I should do even here, but.. why not? ^^'

actually the real title is '
Yearning (for) Our Unicity = Y.O.U.
but the form doesn't allow it, even without the symbols, I don't know why
Pairing: Joe/Bronte (yep, that pairing everyone hates from the season everyone hates :’( . But the more you hate them, the more I love them. Besides, you know what? I like uphill roads)
Disclaimer: all characters belong just and only to the marvelous Caroline Kepnes, Netflix etc, I just own my sick ideas, lol
General setting: all over Season 5
About this one shot:
Prompt 1:
'This is spooky.'
'Really?'
Setting: between the end of 5x8 and first half of 5x9
I suppose that Bronte’s ankle took some days/weeks to improve, so this happens in that gap of time (when they were sooo happy together *sighs*)
Summary: Joe finds out that Bronte has a weak point, what will he do about it?

Show(er) Time

Joe’s POV

“I should have insisted a little more when I told you that you need more staff here!” You grumble.

“It’s only temporary, probably a couple of weeks. I know this may scare you; but, trust me, it’s just history repeating.” I try to calm you down.

“Really?”

“Yep. It happened about ten years ago with ‘Doctor Sleep’, then a bit later with ‘Sleeping Beauties’, then with ‘The outsider’ and many other novels and it’s going to happen now once more. Every fucking time Mr King releases something.” I comment as we both stare at the long queue of people waiting outside Mooney’s.

There’s still some minutes before opening time.

“Not a big fan of Mr. King, I suppose.” You chuckle.

“It’s not King himself. It’s about what he represents. And it’s the same for Follet, Grisham or Brown and the list goes on. Most of the people don’t care about the books, but about the fact that they’re their books; just like something they must own because it’s fashion, it’s mainstream. And they will probably never even open said books, but they will proudly display them on their fucking shelves in their fucking houses. Most of the time, when they chat with their friends, the main question is: ‘Did you buy the last book of… ‘ and not ‘Did you read..’ and this sucks.” I vent.

I’m pretty touchy about commercial books.

“Wow! All you needed was the drop mic gif after such a speech!” You clap your hands at me.

“Do you agree?” I ask, frowning.

“I just think that, no matter how good he actually is, Mr. King is a bit overrated.”

Oh, Bronte, you speak my same language more and more, day by day; but I need to know more.

“And why do you say that?”

“I wouldn’t call him the Master of Suspense, whether it’s about literature or filmography.”

“So, about literature, who is the winner?”

You didn't even need time to think about it.

“I guess nothing will ever compare to ‘The Exorcist’ by William Peter Blatty; I swear I felt my bed trembling whenever I read it!”

You even seem to shiver just at the memory.

“Uh, that’s a great choice; but I think there’s no need for demonic possession and stuff like that to be disturbingly dark. You should check ‘The flying change’ by Henry Taylor.”

“Thanks for the advice, Professor!” You wink and give me a little kiss. “Just tell me you didn’t name your son after him.”

“That’s a secret I’ll take to my grave!” I play along. “About that book, I should have a copy around here, but surely I have no time to look for it now.” I inform you as we walk towards the still closed door.

The time has come.

“C’mon, Bronte, you can do it. Just smile a lot at these lobotomized zombies, be quick… oh, well, as fast as that still little twisted ankle allows you to be, and sell as much as you can.” I instruct you, before opening the door.

It’s going to be such a hard, long day.

--------------------------------

“Did you really say ‘a couple of weeks’ before? Does this mean another eleven days like this one?” You groan, exhausted, laying down on a sofa, once we finally turn the sign at the door to close.

And you’re such a vision, if only I wasn’t as exhausted as you.
That’s why I reach you on the sofa.

“Well, if it’s any comfort, there are only nine, we’re closed on the weekend.And last time I checked it was friday today.”

“Mm, sounds good. Any ideas on how to spend those non-working days?” You slide closer to me.

The long and passionate kiss we share is just a little preview of what awaits us.

“Uh, I almost forgot. We were in the middle of an important speech this morning…” I resume speaking. “You revealed to me the book that scares you the most, what about the movie? The only clue I have is that it’s not one based on King’s books.” I steal a smile from you.

“Promise me you won’t laugh…”

“I won’t.” I assure you.

“It’s ‘Psycho’ . It scares me so much I can’t even bring myself to watch the shower scene! This is spooky!”

“Really?” I burst out laughing.

“You had promised!” You act insulted.

“Sorry, but you made that promise very hard to be kept!” I still giggle. “So you never watched that movie after that scene?”

“Of course I did, I know all the things that happened after that scene and I’m okay with that, I have even rewatched the movie after knowing the end, but that damn shower scene gets me bad every time, I just can’t.” You explain.

So it seems that you’re okay with split personalities. Good to know for our future, when I decide to tell you everything about London.

“But it’s a 1960 movie with no particular special effects, actually you don’t even see the blade cut the skin…”

“I know, I know. Just ask me to watch a super bloody gore splatter and I’ll do it without even flinching: but not the shower scene, with all that tension, the girl who is so relaxed and totally naive about what is going to happen, geez, I’m trembling.”

I rush to hold you in my arms, because I don’t want you to tremble, ever.

“Maybe you never got to watch that scene because you were all alone. What about watching it together tonight? I happen to have that DVD here somewhere.

“Uh, okay, let’s try. You go search for the DVD while I order pizzas.”

And just a couple of hours later we are on our bed, with the left overs of pizza in the box, and the crucial scene that is about to come.

You tense up as soon as you hear the iconic soundtrack.

“No, no, no, no, I’ m not gonna watch it!” You yelp.

“Oh, c’mon, not even if I take the volume off?”

“Please, stop it!” You practically hide behind my back.

“Okay, okay. No more ‘Psycho’ for tonight.” I turn the DVD reader off. “I guess it doesn’t make any difference if you watch it with someone’s company.”

And I’m not just someone. I’m the one.

“Maybe it’s because I’m still so fresh from aggression.” You justify, still upset.

I. Am. A. Total. Dickhead.

“Of course you are, forgive me and my awful ideas, Bronte. I should have known better!” I apologize, as I hug you tight.

“Just take my mind away, Joe.” You cling on me, kissing me as if your life depended on that.

And here we go, naked and rolling under the sheets of the bed, entangling both our sweating bodies and our co-dependent souls.

“Mission accomplished. Mind taken far, far way.” You smile, parting from me. “I guess I’ll need a shower now.”

Before reaching the bathroom, you turn towards me. “So are you coming or not?”

Woah, Bronte, are you still so hungry for that?
Not that I’m complaining.

“Before you get the wrong ideas; nope, I’m not looking for a second round. It’s just that I can’t trust you, and after all this the last thing I need is you trying to give me a shock treatment such as pretending to assault me in the shower!”

“I would never do such a thing!” I retort. “Because our bathroom doesn’t have a shower curtain.”

Shit. I guess someone is going to pay the price of his crystal clear honesty.
Judging by the way you’re glaring at me.

“Is THIS the only reason, Joe?”

“Well.. after all it would just be an efficient shock therapy and maybe it could work even with a shower with a sliding door..”

“Fuck you and the shock therapy!” You snap. “Well, Joe, since you said this place is mine, I guess I can act like a pissed off host.”

“No, no, wait, Bronte, Louise, please, I’m sorry, I promise I won’t do anything weird.”

“Of course, you won’t, because you won’t be here.” You push me off the door and lock it.

At least, before doing so, you had the courtesy to give me my clothes back, so I can dress on the staircase landing.
But, of course, you already removed the copy of the key I had from my trousers.

That’s the price I pay for falling in love with such a smart girl.

So, this means that we’re gonna see just on Monday at work, when I might already be thinking of the perfect way to make you forgive me.

But this also means a whole weekend to spend on my own, without you.

This is spooky!

--

THE END
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Yearning for Our Unicity

Yearning (for) Our Unicity = Y.O.U.