"What the hell are you and why are you following me?" I demanded, angrily, as I rubbed my sore arms. "I am a Specially Created Observational Technological Trainee, otherwise known as an S.C.O.T.T. Your safety is my top priority. I have been trained to tend to my human," he explained. Ok, I could play along. "Well, S.C.O.T.T is too much to say, so I'm going to call you Scott, is that ok?" I asked. "If it is ok with you, then it is ok with me," he replied. "Ok cool, so...how do I get rid of you?"

tran·quil·i·ty | noun. the quality or state of being tranquil; calm.

Scott's vision is fuzzy. Hazy. Unfocused like it hasn't been since the LASIK. He vaguely wonders why, but his head hurts so much he's distracted and can't figure it out. He thinks for a second that he's drunk. That he's given himself the mother of all hangovers. But his shoulder and his arm and his chest and his side and his leg also hurt-shit, his shoulder really hurts-and he's never been drunk enough for that to happen before. Plus, if he's not mistaken, that's his steering wheel in front of him, through the haze and the dust and the noise and the red and whatever the deflated white thing is. Regardless of how drunk he's been, he would never be drunk in the driver's seat of his car. Fuck. Fuck, he hurts. The spiderweb pattern across his windshield is kinda pretty though, sparkling like that in the sun. Blink.

This was originally posted on AO3 on New Year's Eve 2015. fictionalcandie's notes: All blame for the conception of this fic goes to duvalu. All I did was write, uh, a few words to go with it. Everybody shout out to her for doing real actual writing for the first time in years, though!! So proud of her. ♥ duvalu's notes: "A few words" = 98% of this including all the good bits, because fictionalcandie is the best and does stuff like this for me despite not even really being in this fandom. <3 Super fun to write and I love what we ended up with. (Oh yeah and while this is fiction and not at all reality? If you're here because you googled yourself or someone you know, please do us all a favour and back away slowly.)

He left him for 10 minutes and now he's not sure if he'll ever get him back.

Mitch Grassi is the best agent in the DEA. Scott Hoying is the best drug lord in the state of California. So when Mitch's boss tells him to go under cover and seduce the young drug lord into revealing his secret, how could he say no? But can two sides of the law fall in love? Or will everything go belly up? WARNING: DRUG USE AND SEXUAL CONTENT COMPLETED

Everything Mitch had always done was perfect. His parents and everyone around him always told him so. He even kept his life on a tight schedule, just to keep things perfect. He was excited for his senior year to be perfect, but after a certain tall blond gets Mitch in trouble, he gets a much needed wake-up call.

Mitch Grassi was twenty five years old when Pentatonix split up and went their seperate ways. Now, three years later, Mitch has to deal with his boring job, his terrible boss, and the loneliness from the absence of his best friend, Scott. After Scott joined the army it was hard for Mitch to shake the emptiness, but when Scott returns after two years of being away will everything go back the way it used to be?

My name is Scott Hoying. My life has been anything but boring, so I thought I'd share it. Because it's worth remembering.

"Make him remember you. Every day. Do something that will make him fall for you. Be yourself, and captivate him." "Surprise him. Make him fall in love with you, just like he can make you fall in love with him in less than a day. Give him something to talk about when he's old and reflects on life... about the night that his forgetful boy took him by surprise." "Falling for someone is a scary thing, but it makes it a whole lot better when someone is holding your hand through it all."