#// he looks so worked over. dehydrated. soul has vacated his body.

[stupidiinspades]

@gcldfanged

[sungbeam]

nonidol!jung sungchan x f!reader

at some point beneath the glittering summer sun and along evening tides, you and sungchan tripped over the line drawn in the sand.

▷ genre, warnings. brother's best friend!au, friends-ish 2 lovers, family vacay + sungchan lol, swearing, kissing, fluff, humor, sungchan does go shirtless (it's a beach), mentions of food, mentions of alcohol; lee jeno, sohee, and anton r ur brothers! (so u have the lee last name but u "look more like ur mom"); barely proofread, also im sorry if this is boring my head has not been in the game for Months

▷ word count. 10.0k

DISCLAIMER: i DO NOT actively write for or stan riize; this is literally just a birthday present T-T so if dynamics/personalities aren't right, i literally don't know these guys 💀

a/n: happiest birthday to my beloved soulmate and wife @justalildumpling :')) i hope u like it <3

OFTEN when you came back home from work, your joints and muscles ached to the point you could barely stand, your hair felt gross on your head, and your eyes stung from dehydration and sleep deprivation. That was the toll of working closing shift at the restaurant you worked at, and had been working at, for the past several years. 

It wasn't out of the ordinary to see the lights in the house still warm and bright when you got home either. Your family was a handful of night owls, not discounting yourself. They had witnessed you in this particular rat-nest dump of a state time and time again, which was why you didn't worry about looking like Death Incarnate. 

“Hey.”

Your soul left your body. 

Sitting on your living room couch was not a family member. Though, he might as well have been a part of it from how much you had been seeing him lately. Jung Sungchan was your older brother Jeno's best friend, but Sungchan was in your year rather than Jeno's. The two met via the high school soccer team and had been good friends since. 

Years later, he was sitting on the living room couch, nearing one in the morning, his hair damp from a recent shower, T-shirt sleeves rolled up his shoulders, and his phone paused from the game he was playing. Your brain was too tired to even register the amount of muscle packed onto his arms (what the fuck—). 

“Sorry, did I scare you?” He chuckled sheepishly, reaching up to ruffle his dark hair, grown out slightly. 

“What are you doing here?” You blurted instead. Exhaustion meant that conventional politeness was completely defenestrated. It was one in the morning on a summer night… usually your older brother was out clubbing or drinking (not that you were any different, but you worked quite a bit more nights lately). 

Sungchan's eyes danced up and down your form. “Jeno and I decided we're gonna pull an all-nighter for the road trip in—” He glanced over at his phone, “—seven hours and just knock out in the car. How was work?”

Road trip? Car ride? If you could just make it to the shower… “It was fine. Tiring,” you said with a sigh. You trudged over to the far side of the room, behind Sungchan, into the kitchen. You grabbed a cup to fill with water, then drained it down your throat just as fast as it had been filled. 

With water in your body, your systems were finally coming back online. Road trip. Car ride. Your eyes widened. “Oh my god. I have to pack.”

“You haven't packed yet?” He queried, tone light and teasing as he watched the progression of your panic with amusement. “Even Jeno's packed.”

You sputtered back at him, “Quiet, you!”

Sungchan's warm laugh followed you out into the hallway and all the way to your room. You couldn't understand why your face felt so hot; you should have been too preoccupied to be embarrassed, after all. 

You slammed your bedroom door shut, dragging a hand down your face. You couldn't believe Sungchan just saw your I-just-worked-for-eight-hours-in-customer-service face. Not even some of your closest friends had seen the aftermath of your night shifts at work yet. 

Crazy. 

It wasn't every family vacation where a plus-one was invited. Your family tried to set aside time for these trips just for the six of you, but this time was an exception. Somehow—you weren't a part of the delegations—Sungchan was invited on this summer's trip to the coast. Your mom mentioned offhandedly it was because Sungchan “was a nice boy,” or something to that effect. Your family rented out a cabin right along the beach for a week, and the lot of you were going to be stuck in the family minivan for a good eight hours together. 

And if Sungchan was tagging along, that meant you were going to have to fight for the middle row seat or—

“Yn—you’re in the back with Sohee and Anton.”

You came to a screeching halt on your way out of the house, a bucket hat shielding your puffy eyes from the waking world, your duffle strapped over your shoulder. It was seven hours later—an ungodly eight in the morning. “What? Nuh-uh; I don't think so.”

Jeno stood only a few meters ahead of you by the door of the minivan, his hands primed on either side of his hips as if he was the self-proclaimed guardian of the car seating chart. “Well, I said so. Sungchan has longer legs than you—”

“Why don't you sit in the back then?” You shot back with a saccharine sweet smile. You were too tired for this shit. 

Sungchan scratched the side of his head as he walked out of the house to stand by you and join the argument, his flip flops thwacking against the ground. “Uhh, I can sit in the back middle seat. It's cool, dude.”

“Sungchan's too tall for the middle seat,” your dad interjected. He took yours and Sungchan's bags to add to the trunk. “Yn's in the back. Sorry, hon.”

“Dad,” you groaned. 

“You can switch with Jeno half way.”

“Dad!” Jeno squawked this time. 

Your father gave a tired sigh, saying more than he would ever say aloud. “Everyone in the car. Can't you two be like Sohee and Anton? At least they're knocked out.”

“They know they'll be sent to the back without question,” you pointed out as you made your way to the minivan. As you passed by your brother, you sent him a very potent stink eye, then clambered into the back row. 

Like your father had said, your younger brothers, Sohee and Anton, were already dead asleep. Their mouths hung open wide enough to catch any wayward fly with their heads angled back against their neck pillows. You snorted and snapped a photo of them to add to your collection of brotherly blackmail. 

Your mom was settled into the front passenger seat already queuing up driving directions to get to the coast. From your perch in the middle, you had a clear view of her phone screen—seven hours and two minutes. Yay. 

You supposed there wasn't anything too terrible about the middle seat; you were out like a light as soon as the car pulled out of the driveway. 

When you woke up, it was about four hours later, and your parents were having a hushed discussion amongst themselves and Sungchan. A baseball cap had materialized on top of Sungchan's head at some point when you were asleep, and the sleeves of his T-shirt were once again rolled up to expose his muscled shoulders. Did this guy not have a tank top?

“...I like it, at least—well, I don't mind all the extra requirements, and I know it'll help me reach my ultimate end goal, so.”

Your mom let out a hum of approval. “Ah, that's good that you like it. You'll be busy as a nurse.”

Right, Sungchan was in the nursing program. Your brother wasa kinesiology major, and you were going into law. It made for quite the diverse pool in the car. 

You opened your mouth in a yawn and fumbled your hand around your lap for where your earbud had fallen out of your ear, carefully so that you didn't shake off Anton's head on your shoulder. (Oh no, was he drooling?)

“Yn-ah, good morning,” your mother teased quietly. 

You glanced up, eyes going wide when you realized both your mom and Sungchan were now peering back at you. “Morning,” you murmured. Your fingers enclosed around your fallen earbud to tuck it into the case left in the bag at your feet. 

“Sleep well?” Sungchan piped up. There was that twinkle in his eyes, the same one from last night. It made your stomach twist in a way that was more pleasant than not. 

You cleared your throat, unconsciously reaching up to adjust the placement of your bucket hat and praying you didn't look like a sewer rat. “For the most part,” you replied. “How about you?”

He shrugged. “I had a decent power nap. Your mom says you're going into law. That's really cool.”

“Oh,” you blinked. “Thanks. And you're in nursing, right? That's cool, too—super admirable.”

Sungchan's mouth widened into a small grin. “Thanks. It's only our first year, but it feels like so much work already.”

“Right? Tell me about it…”

Less than fifteen minutes later, the family van pulled into the parking lot of a diner off the interstate, exactly halfway through your journey. The seven of you, weary and hungry, filed out of the vehicle and into the establishment. You and your parents slid into one booth, while your brothers and Sungchan occupied the one behind you. 

There was a low-spun fan swirling above your heads, an 80s song you vaguely recognized wafting through the air at a dull decibel. Your phone was stashed away in the bag tucked into your end of the booth seat while you idly sipped on your glass of iced water. 

You jolted at the feeling of something light hitting the back of your head. 

A gasp from behind you. 

You rolled your eyes, twisting around in your seat while picking the wadded up straw wrapper from your hair. “Who did it?” You deadpanned. 

The boys table was filled with sheepish expressions, to their credit. Your younger brothers, who were sitting on the far side facing you, thrusted their fingers in each other's faces in a torrent of blame and accusation. 

��Aish, never mind. I don't care who did it,” you dismissed. Your eyes caught onto Sungchan's. He sat just diagonally to your left and for some reason, his eyes on you made you feel warm. 

You flicked the wrapper back; it hit Anton square in the forehead. Jeno barked out a laugh. 

“Nice shot,” Sungchan nodded, extending his fist to you. 

You couldn't suppress the smile from coming onto your face as you bumped his fist with yours. 

Food arrived swiftly afterward, and it was demolished as quickly as it came. In the sway of a palm tree frond, the seven of you were back in the confines of the family minivan. 

The remainder of the car ride carried over quickly. Though Jeno unhappily sat his ass down in your previous spot with you claiming his from before, he and your other brothers snored away five minutes in. You didn't go back to sleep despite having a full belly and less than five hours of sleep under your belt; you watched the world pass by outside the window in a blur. 

Urban skylines melted into rolling emerald mountains and pastures, sank into palm trees and sandy shores that met a blue horizon as far as the eye could see. 

The beach house your family rented this year was a two story cottage-type. It was small, with only one bedroom and bathroom upstairs, a bathroom downstairs, and a living room and kitchen. The rest was all beach. It was determined that you and your mom would be given the honors of the upstairs bedroom and bathroom, while all the boys piled into the living room. 

Once everyone was settled in, there was little else to do but go make use of your new backyard for the next week. 

“Yn! Come on, slowpoke!” Sohee shouted at you from the shoreline with cupped hands. You saw his bare back as he splashed into the waves after Anton, who was already only a speck in your vision. 

Your bare feet sank into the sand, and you wiggled your toes between the warm grains. Sunshine, glorious and concentrated above the distant horizon, soaked into your skin. Ah, this was the life.

Just as you reached for the hem of your shirt to reveal your bathing suit, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Jeno and Sungchan were coming onto the beach from the front of the house, a disassembled volleyball net hanging between them. 

Your eyes nearly fell out of your head at the sight of Sungchan's back—

Before Jeno or any of your other brothers or Sungchan could catch you ogling, you gave yourself a nice, mental slap to the face. No more. You needed to stop this. When did you ever look at Sungchan like this?

(You could still remember when he was the gangly kid with the growth spurt trying out for the high school soccer team. He was paired with Jeno to test his potential, and the rest was history.)

Sungchan was the first to spot you as he and Jeno determined a place to set up the net. He beamed boyishly, his chin inclining toward you. “Hey, wanna play?”

Your eyes flickered to the corded necklace hanging from his collar and between his—Yn, shut the fuck up. “Sure,” you said simply, feigning nonchalance. 

If he noticed your wandering eyes, he didn't comment. Instead, he nodded back at you. “Sick.”

You both turned back to your original tasks. Your hands went back to the bottom hem of your shirt to tug it up and off your body. (Maybe you weren't the only one with wandering eyes, though.)

You draped your clothes over the back porch railing and began making your way down to the shoreline. “I'm gonna take a dip and then come back up!” You said to Jeno and Sungchan. 

“Oh, okay—ow!” 

You didn't see nor hear what happened, but when you glanced back, Sungchan had his back turned to you as he furiously rubbed the back of his head, while Jeno smiled innocently. 

Your older brother waved you along. “Carry on!” He said. 

Walking backward for a couple steps, you shot him an incredulous look, then turned around to meet your little brothers in the ocean. Whatever. 

You had been staring at the wooden ceiling above your head for the past forty-five minutes. Your mom's even breathing and the ocean waves rolling outside the window failed to rock you into unconsciousness. You'd figured the sunlight from this afternoon would have made you tired, or perhaps all the food you ate for dinner, but your eyes continued to stay wide open. 

A quiet sigh fell from your mouth as you rolled over onto your side and gently peeled the covers off. With near silent footsteps across the oak floors, you slipped out of the bedroom and down the stairs. 

The cacophony of combined snoring from all the men in the living room was comparable to the volume of the waves just outside. 

You barely contained your snort of amusement. You didn't worry about waking any of them up as you crossed the living room, full of a smorgasbord of limbs and bodies draped across the large couch sectional and blankets on the floor. 

The back door was left unlatched when you reached its threshold. Outside, moonlight dappled across the calm sea like a sprinkling of diamonds. You slowly pried the door open, freezing. 

You and Sungchan made eye contact from across the back porch. He was perched on the top step, nursing a bottle of beer in his hand. A loose breeze wafted through the strands of his hair. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, moving to retreat back into the house. 

“Oh, no—please.” He patted the empty space next to him on the porch step. 

You blinked, at odds. He was clearly out here for a reason and you'd figured he wanted some space, but if he was inviting you, then… 

You closed the back door behind you and settled beside him, with a comfortable amount of negative space between your bodies. You folded your arms over the tops of your knees and stared out at the midnight horizon. It smelled of salt and sea spray, and the light wind was a refreshing crispiness against the humid evening air. 

“Couldn't sleep?” He murmured, glancing over at you. 

You nodded. “Yeah. You?”

He hummed in response. 

“I'm not surprised,” you said. The corners of your lips curled upward. “I wouldn't be able to sleep amongst my brothers either. Their snoring could wake a bear.”

Sungchan sputtered out a laugh as his eyes crinkled upward and he pressed the back of his knuckles against his mouth. “I wasn't gonna say it, but…”

You shared a grin with him. “I will happily say it for you, dude.” 

His eyes were stunning in this lighting. The moonlight hit his irises at an angle that made them shimmer like a shade of molten copper. He licked his lips, and you saw his eyes dart from your eyes, down a few inches, then further down to the beer bottle in his hands. 

“Oh, uh,” he stammered, tipping the bottle nose in your direction, “want some? I thought the alcohol would help me sleep, but it's not looking awfully promising.”

For a split second, your heart leapt at the thought—your mouth pressed against the place his mouth had been, tasting the place he'd drunk from. 

You dashed the thought from your mind. It couldn't have been so significant as your brain was making it out to be. You were probably just sleep deprived. 

“Thanks,” you said while reaching across the gap to accept it from him. Judging by the weight, it was just about half full, and you took a light swig. 

A drop of liquid dribbled out of the corner of your lips, and you swiped it with the pad of your thumb, sticking the finger into your mouth to suck it off. You passed the bottle back over to him, catching his eyes not looking at yours. 

(The organ in your chest was no longer in your chest. Was it normal for your heart to make a home in your throat instead? Why did he look at you like that?)

“Any reason for not being able to sleep?” You asked him to break the silence. “I mean, besides the symphony my brothers and dad are conducting, of course.”

His eyes shuddered, as if breaking out of a trance. “Oh, uhm—nothing in particular, I guess. Maybe it's just from all the excitement. I think it's usually hard for me to sleep in new places.”

You bobbed your head in understanding. “No, I get that. It takes me a little to get used to new environments, too. I don't know how I would have survived if I was living in the dorms at uni and not at home.” The university you attended was a decent commute from your house, so living on campus was never something you gave much thought to. The idea of living independently appealed to you sometimes, but in general, you didn't have a ton of qualms against your circumstances now. 

“For sure,” Sungchan whistled lowly. He contemplated the opening of his beer bottle, then took a gentle sip of its contents. “Have you made a lot of friends? I feel like it's a lot harder than people make it seem.”

You passed him a curious glance this time. “Some, but it's definitely not as easy as high school. You haven't made a lot of friends?”

“The soccer team, mainly,” he chuckled. “The occasional ally in my classes.”

You let out a bright laugh that made his smile widen. “'Ally?’” You parroted. “What a fun word to call classmates.”

“It's true!” He insisted, chuckling. “Some of these professors are evil, man. Competitive grades? Not a chance,” He scoffed. “We're all in this together, even if the curve is against us.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from being too loud, but the rolling waves likely covered your noise plenty. Your family were deep sleepers. 

“I just figured that you meet lots of people,” you offered when your mirth died down to a giggle. You toed a pile of sand sitting on the last step of the porch. “Your socials are pretty active,” you said, “but I guess I shouldn't judge a book by its cover.”

“I could say the same about you, Miss Party Girl,” he smirked. “When are you gonna drag me to a rave?”

Heat raced up to your cheeks. “I've only been to one,” you said, rolling your eyes. He'd seen that post? First, the post-work daze, and now, the turnt raver? “I haven't gone to a party in a few weeks 'cause of finals anyway.” 

Now that you thought about it, you'd been so busy as of late, you couldn't even count the amount of outings you'd declined on your two hands. 

“Trust me, I get it.” He raised his hands in an act of surrender, his knees angling toward you. The negative space was suddenly a lot less negative. 

Another tip of his beer bottle; it swapped hands once, twice more. The liquid dribbled smooth down your throat just as Sungchan knocked the rest back. The empty glass made a dull thunk sound as it hit the wooden porch to Sungchan's right. 

“So what I'm getting,” you drawled, mimicking his position by angling your knees toward his. You felt your legs brush—the stimulus sent a jolt down your nerves that warned of addiction and tasted like the forbidden. “Is that you've never been to a rave before?”

Sungchan gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe I have.”

You mocked his shrug. “Maybe you have.”

“Or maybe it's just that I haven't gone with you yet.”

Even the waves seemed to quiet for a second. Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest, and you tied down the nervous laugh ready to bubble out of your mouth. You bit your lip and found yourself nodding. “We'd paint the town red, Jung Sungchan,” you murmured. 

There it was again—that flicker of his gaze to some place you both knew crossed a line. It was the beer, was what you were telling yourself. It was the beer. 

Seagulls surfed the ever-blue sky. Eternal summer could be thought of as a filter of golden, glittery gauze across one's already rose-colored glasses. But summer, truly, was the shade of Jung Sungchan's tank top peeling off his body as he sprinted down the sandbank after your brother, Anton. 

You watched the fabric whip around in the salt breeze before settling into a heap where his footprint melted into the mineral grains. You were giving Sohee the sunscreen spritz-down up on the covered porch, while Jeno barreled down the bank after his friend and brother. 

From behind you came the scratch of the back door sliding open. You and Sohee peered back to where your mom poked her head out. 

She just barely caught her sunglasses in time as they slipped off her head. “Hey, your dad and I are heading out. Watch each other, okay?”

“Got it!” You and Sohee chirped. 

One more nod from your mom, and then she was gone. Your parents were going to take a date into town, just the two of them. That left you and the boys here with the surf and sand—definitely not a terrible compromise. If you wanted, you could probably have the whole house to yourself, anyway. These guys could entertain themselves. 

“Yn! Sohee!” 

Jeno arced one arm up into the sky to beckon you down to the sea, only to get dragged underwater by his two comrades. You and Sohee harked out twin laughs as you watched Jeno fight for his life with limbs flailing and foam flying into the sky. 

You patted Sohee's shoulder as you set the can of sunscreen onto the porch step. “Alrighty, you're good to go, bro.”

“Thanks—race you down!”

“Hey!” Your laughter echoed as you bolted down the sand after him to join the fun. 

As your feet dug into the wet embankment, your palms made purchase against Sohee's shoulders to shove him into the water. A yelp leapt into the air, and you turned away to avoid getting hit in the face with the consequence of your prank. 

“I'm so gonna get you for that!” Sohee spat water out of his mouth, a wicked grin pulling onto his lips. 

“No, you're not, actually!” 

You bolted—well, stomped, your way through the knee-deep water, furiously trying to get away from karma. Water yanked down on your limbs in a forceful coax to give into your punishment, but you were determined. 

You could hear your brothers’ hollers of encouragement: “Get her, Sohee!” and “RUN, YN, RUN!”

Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you pushed your legs harder. 

“I got her!” Wait, was that Sungchan?—

You suddenly felt a pair of hands on either side of your waist—you swore as your legs came out of the water and your world twisted. 

“No, no, no, no, no!” You squawked, squirming wildly in Sungchan's arms as he scooped you into his hold like a bride. (NO. NOT LIKE A BRIDE. WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE A BRIDE?—) One arm cradled your back and the other under your knees, and he laughed—he chuckled—as you attempted to flip yourself out of his grasp. 

“You're not getting out of this, party girl,” he said close to your ear. 

For a heartbeat, you lost your breath at the rasp behind his words and the grin on his face. But a heartbeat was all he needed. 

There was free fall, and then all sound muffled as cold water engulfed your body. You plugged your nose and screwed your eyes shut. You felt your ass hit the sand at the bottom in slow motion, before the air in your lungs began to lift you back up to the surface of the water. 

You broke out with a gasp, hair flipping back as you furiously swiped your hands down your face to get the water out of your eyes. They stung like a bitch, but you could feel the rush of blood in your ears; it was thrilling. 

A hand in your vision enclosed around yours.

“You asshole!” You scowled up at Sungchan from where you knelt, though it was half-hearted. 

He beamed back at you boyishly with damp hair hanging in his eyes and water running down the crevices of his stomach like a goddamn system of canals. “You're a good sport, Yn.”

“I'm really not.”

You had the distinct pleasure of seeing the smile slip off his face before you used his grip on you to yank him into the water. You swallowed a good half pint of saltwater, but the revenge couldn't have been sweeter. 

When Sungchan's head broke the surface, it was followed by a dog-like shake of his head. You laughed to turn away from the spray of water; Sungchan delighted at the sound. 

Amusement still lingered on your lips as your eyes snagged on the piece of seaweed that made its home on his head. You didn't think twice about it before leaning closer to reach it. 

You stepped forward, and—oh boy, was that a mistake. 

You had a front row seat view of a droplet of water slipping down the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, and the cliff of his chin. You wrestled down a swallow, and pulled the seaweed off his head, flinging it into the water. 

“You had, uhm, a little…”

“Right, thanks—”

You both flinched apart as a man-made wave of water crashed into your sides. “AMBUSH!” Your three brothers declared, springing up out of the water and parading a full-blown attack with all weapons firing. 

You and Sungchan were swift to launch your own counterattack. 

Merriment filled the summer air as much as saltwater embedded into your skin and eyes and mouth. You almost made the mistake of thinking your racing heart was just from the determination to beat your brothers, and not from the guy on your side of the war. The heat was getting to you and the sun was getting to him.  

It was about an hour later that you found yourself lazing upon the slick and smooth plane of a surfboard. The ocean rocked you gently from beneath the board; it had been surprisingly calm all of today. 

At some point, you and the boys established a truce in the Great Water War, mainly because your brothers were hungry and there was a big, juicy watermelon just begging to be cut open and devoured in the house. 

Suffice to say, you let your brothers figure it out. 

Your consciousness faded into the foreground of your mind as a distant sound of splashing neared. You peaked one eye open, lifting the rim of the hat up to see who dared to encroach upon your isle. 

You could recognize Sungchan's mop of hair from a mile away, at this point. You couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing, but why did it have to be either?

He cropped up right beside you, pushing back his hair to keep the water out of his eyes. “Hi.”

A smile curled onto your lips, teasing. “Hi. Good swim?”

“Good nap?”

“As good as one can be on the open ocean,” you said, shifting the hat up so you could see him better, but keeping your face shaded. “I don't know how dolphins sleep with half their brain on.”

Sungchan's brows rocketed toward his hairline. “They sleep with half their brain on? Crazy.”

“I know. I can't even stay awake with half my brain on.”

You and he shared a laugh, and he set a palm on the board next to your body. “Aw, no,” he assured. “If you've got less than half a brain on at all times, then I've got one brain cell.”

“Joke's on you, half my brain is half a brain cell.”

He wrinkled his nose at you. Cute. “Sweetheart, hate to break it to you, but that's not how brain cells work.”

You nearly fell off the board. “Okay, Mr. Know-it-all, do tell.”

“I'm not about to talk about neurons on my vacation.”

You challenged him with a look. “Overruled, counselor. Answer the question.”

His mouth fell open in a stunned daze, and his reaction made you break face for a moment to laugh. He blinked. “I have to be really honest with you…” Sungchan carded a hand through his hair, then pressed his knuckles to his mouth. “That was really hot.”

Was it suddenly five degrees warmer out here? 

If blood rushing in your ears was akin to the sound of waves crashing, there must have been one hell of a tsunami in your veins right now. 

You sputtered a laugh. “You need to get out of the sun—”

“I'm sorry I said that aloud,” he grimaced sheepishly. 

“Nurse? Nurse!—” You feigned raising your head up to look around for an imaginary nurse in the middle of the ocean. “Oh, right. You are the nurse.”

He groaned, tilting his head back and playfully punching your shoulder. “You're so—”

“Hot?”

You howled at the sight of his cheekbones blooming the color of ripe watermelon. “I'm kidding; I'm teasing!”

He sighed, smiling despite the pain etched onto his gorgeous features. “Never living that down, am I?”

You shifted your position to laying on your stomach now, your arms folded beneath your chin. Sungchan carefully turned the surfboard so the tip faced him, and you were trapped in his gaze, head-on. “It was cute,” you consoled. 

“So you think I'm cute?” He cocked a brow. 

“And you think I'm hot.”

He flicked water at you. “Aaand, there it is!” 

You laughed again, delighted at the red lingering on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. God, he was fucking gorgeous. 

A beat passed for a second. Something settled between the two of you, a thing you couldn't yet put a name on, but it had been there since last night. Or maybe it had been there longer, festering in the negative space between you until said space could become something of a memory. 

You weren't sure why he was here—why he'd swum out here to meet you when his best friend was back at the beach house, gorging on watermelon and getting his ass handed to him in Mario Kart by his siblings; why he all of a sudden occupied a part of your mind like the tide creeping up the embankment at four in the afternoon. At first, he was far enough for you to settle into a false sense of security; until all of a sudden, there he was, the foamy waves lapping at your feet and his smile the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes. 

His tongue swiped over his lips and he cleared his throat. “So, uh, watermelon?” That was his original reason for coming out here. (He did volunteer, after all.)

You perked up. “Right, sure. Watermelon.”

“Great.” He broke into a smile, but the corners of it were softer, fonder. You could get used to the look of it. 

There was this saying—the elephant in the room—but here in the cabin living room, it was definitely more of a blue whale. Just completely out of the water, weighing about thirteen tons, the size of twelve school buses… yeah, that sounded about right. 

“GO FISH!” Anton flung his finger across the circle at Jeno with the glee of a kid on Christmas morning. “Suck it!”

Your mom sent an express glare his way. “Anton.”

Your youngest shrunk down sheepishly. “Sorry, eomma.”

The seven of you were settled in the living space this fine evening with a deck of cards. Your parents were on the couches watching the movie on screen and the game before them, while you, your brothers, and Sungchan huddled around the coffee table playing said game. Sunsoaked and weary, it only took one hearty and filling dinner to perk the lot of you right back up like a field of sunflowers.

“This is a stupid game,” Jeno sulked as he examined his hand of cards. 

“You only say that because you're losing,” you pointed out. “Anyways, Jeno, can I have that three?”

Jeno cut you a glare as the rest of the table rolled into fits of laughter. Your smile was cheeky, reaching out to snatch the three Jeno revealed he had during his turn. 

“That's cold,” Sohee snorted. 

Your eyes darted over to Sungchan opposite you. His eyes were glimmering. “Yeah, I didn't know you had so much ruthlessness in you, Yn.”

“Why do you think she's going into law?” Jeno grunted. Though one card less, it meant that he had one less pair in his finished pile. At this rate, you might win and end up with the most pairs. 

“Guys, it's literally just how you play the game.” You nodded over at Sohee. “Sohee, do you have a jack?”

Your younger brother handed it over without ceremony. “Unfortunately.”

“Anton, do you have an ace?”

He shook his head. “Go fish, noona.”

“See?” You said to the rest of the table, but your eyes went to Sungchan's. “The nature of the game.”

They let you off the hook because you didn't plunder everyone of their cards this round. It continued on with Sohee, then Anton, before landing on Sungchan. 

He made a show of considering his cards, a furrow between his brows. He glanced up at you over the rim of his hand and gestured with a curl of his fingers. “I'd like that ace, Yn.”

“Oooh,” Anton giggled. 

Jeno grinned as you extended the ace across the table to Sungchan. “Karma.”

“Thank you—” his fingers grazed against yours as he plucked the card from your grasp, “—very much.”

You pressed your lips into a small smile, nose wrinkling up at him. You had a few cards left to rid yourself of. 

Your dad cleared his throat as he stood up from the couch to bring his empty bowl to the sink. “By the way, are you kids still going into town tomorrow?”

The five of you exchanged brief eye contact with one another. “Yep.”

The idea had come up during dinner after your parents came back. They'd mentioned a variety of activities and little shops to visit that might be fun for you to see, including a hand churned ice cream shop and a port side arcade building. It would just be the five of you going, while your parents would walk down to the beach trails about a mile from the cabin to go hiking. 

In the morning, you and everyone else in the house took your time getting up and ready for the day. Breakfast was taken together at the table before you split off into your separate parties. 

Jeno took the wheel with Sungchan riding shotgun, and you sat in the middle row with Sohee, while Anton occupied the back. You rolled down your window to rest your chin on the fold of your elbow, your sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you watched the scenery pass by. 

Right in front of you, Sungchan also had his window rolled down with his arm propped on the lowered sill. He chatted animatedly with Jeno about whatever game he and all three of your brothers were playing this morning, but you could feel his gaze go to his side view mirror more than once. 

The ride was an easy, breezy one. 

The main town center bustled with locals and visitors alike in the late morning. Jeno found free parking about a block away, and the five of you walked over as one big group. 

“Ice cream first!” Anton declared with one arm raised toward the sky. 

“I concur,” you chimed in. You lifted your sunglasses up slightly so you could read the town directory easier. “Seems like we're close by.”

Anton nodded in approval. “Onwards, then.”

You and your youngest brother led the way. The idea of ice cream made your mouth water, especially since you could already feel a bead of sweat dribble down your spine. Why was it so goddamn hot?

The shop was a cute, little building with a pink and white striped awning and a large window in the front that gave visitors a front row view into the ice cream churning experience. You snorted as Anton pressed his nose up against the glass, a wide grin splitting his face. 

“You're scaring the workers, dude,” you jested, tugging your brother along. 

Anton scrunched his nose up at you. “You scare me every morning.”

“Just because you're a wimp when I put toner pads on—hey! Do you want ice cream or not?” You cackled as he attempted to flick you square in the forehead. 

Jeno groaned. “Guys, can we please act normal for once?” He asked as he swung the door open for everyone. 

Sungchan beat you to the punchline, slapping his friend on the back while he ducked inside. “That's rich coming from you, man.”

“Hey!” 

The squabble was swiftly swept out of your mind when you stepped foot into the shop. You were nearly knocked over from the potency of the sugary waffle cone scent that occupied the room. At the sight of tubs upon tubs of frozen treats kept within the display case, your entire face lit up, eyes going glassy with wonder. “Oh no, too many to choose from,” you gasped, cupping the lower half of your face. 

Sungchan chuckled beside you as he crossed his arms and assessed the dozen options before you. “I didn't know you were such an ice cream fanatic, party girl,” he mused. He glanced over at you with a fond sort of gleam in his eye. 

“Don't even get her started,” Sohee groaned. “She and Anton have a sweet tooth to rival Willy Wonka.”

Anton flagged down one of the workers, having already found his targets to try. He was in here for less than two minutes and was already rattling off the entire menu to the poor girl behind the counter. 

“Tiramisu sounds really good,” you muttered. Your eyes moved slowly from tub to tub. Another gasp flew from your lips, and you clasped a hand on Sungchan's shoulder. “Wait—but strawberry shortcake—hhhhh.” You wrinkled your brows together, lips pressed into a taut line. 

This was not good. 

“You could always get a double scoop,” Sungchan suggested. 

You bobbed your head. “That's true, but I'm just worried I won't be able to finish, y'know.”

“Well, maybe I'll get one of the flavors you want and we can split.” His shrug was all too casual. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, biting his lip through a smile. 

The organ in your chest gave a hop, skip, and a leap. You weren't sure if it was at the thought of it all working out alright or if it was because of Sungchan's generous gesture. You were telling yourself it was the former, but you could be persuaded it was the latter if given a light shove in that direction. 

When everyone's scoops were paid for, you fell into a loose formation to stroll around town while you finished your treats. 

You and Sungchan were glued to each other's sides out of necessity since you were sharing flavors. Jeno walked on his other side, however, lapping at his cotton candy blue scoop seated upon a throne of waffle cone. The two youngest walked in front, leading you all to wherever they wished to go. 

The town itself was rather quaint when you finally soaked it in. It seemed like the kind of place everyone knew everyone, and if you were new or only visiting, the locals were just as friendly and welcoming. The town center was stocked with anything a resident might need—a small grocer down the street, clothing stores and restaurants lining the boulevard, a newspaper stand at the corner, a laundromat, a hardware store, and more places you were certain you wouldn't be able to see in just one walk. 

As you scooped a bite out of some of the last bits of tiramisu in Sungchan's cup, Jeno was summoned up to his brothers who were debating over which way they should turn next. You and Sungchan lingered behind to finish off the ice cream in your respective cups. 

Just as you slurped up the melted shortcake ice cream at the bottom of yours, your eyes caught onto a storefront behind Sungchan. It was decked out in cliché boho-chic, with braided nets, shells, and sand dollars in the window and over the door frame. The souvenir shop seemed to embody the quintessential tourist trap, and you didn't mind falling into it. 

“—guys, we're gonna go to the arcade now!” Jeno said, beckoning you and Sungchan over. They must have decided on a route then. 

You made your decision. “You guys can go ahead! I'm gonna pop into this place for a second. I promised I'd get my friend Minjeong something.” Minjeong was one of the few close friends you made at university, and though you didn't promise to her face you'd get her something, you were determined to get her a little trinket as a token of your affection. 

“You're gonna go alone?” 

You blinked. “Yeah, I'll just meet you guys at the arcade.” 

Sohee piped up, “But mom said buddy system.” Okay, you should probably honor that, but it wasn't as if the four of you always followed that rule. 

“I'll go with you.”

All eyes went to Sungchan who tossed his empty cup and spoon into the nearby trash can. He gave a nonchalant lift of his shoulders. “I wanted to get my mom something anyway.”

You tilted your head to the side curiously as Jeno narrowed his eyes at Sungchan, like they were communicating telepathically. Odd. 

In fact, you didn't really know what to think about being alone with Sungchan. There was a difference between coincidentally ending up on the porch together or conversing in the ocean away from everyone else, to purposefully breaking off from the group to spend time with each other. 

Then again, he said he was getting something for his mom. That gave a different implication to him volunteering to accompany you. The goal was capitalism, not something forbidden.

Maybe you were thinking about this too much. 

“Okay, fine,” Jeno relented. “We'll meet you at the arcade, but don't take too long or we'll leave without you.”

“Aye-aye,” you teased, raising a hand to wave goodbye to your brothers. “C'mon, Sungchan.”

You dumped your empty ice cream cup and spoon into the trash before slipping inside the souvenir shop with Sungchan following right after you. You lifted your sunglasses up on top of your head, skin prickling with gooseflesh from the draft of air conditioning wafting overhead. A soft-toned acoustic played in the background, accompanied by the cheery greeting of a staff member from behind the register. 

You and Sungchan lifted your hands in warm reply, then disappeared into the aisles to explore. 

Your fingers grazed along the racks of clothes branded with the beach town's name and minimalist artwork; your eyes roamed over the ships displayed in bottles on the walls, the not-for-sale surfboard hung for decor. Like many souvenir shops, there were several turning displays that boasted rows upon rows of themed keychains with specific names engraved into them. 

“I will never find my name amongst these,” Sungchan mused quietly from beside you as the two of you rifled through the surfboards and seashells and sharks. “And yet, I look for the S names all the time.”

“Valid,” you nodded. “Sometimes I can't find my name either, but it's the hope that gets you.”

“And fails you,” he pointed out.

“Touché.” 

Near the keychain displays stood a tower of hats and head accessories galore. There were crocheted bonnets, straw hats, ball caps, and even headbands. Your expression glittered as you plucked up a headband with twin sunflowers on the top like a pair of antennas. 

After hanging your shades on your shirt color, you donned the headpiece, twirling around to show Sungchan. “Thoughts?” You asked, failing to sweep your grin away. 

Sungchan beamed back at you. “Oh, you're too cute.”

You ignored the heat creeping up the back of your neck to reach for another headband—this time, one topped with red crab claws. Sungchan graciously bowed his head for you to crown him with the piece. 

“Fabulous,” you declared with your hands on your hips. 

He peered into the small mirror to the side of the hat rack. “You think?”

“Of course.” So much so, that you pulled out your phone to snap a picture. You tilted your head toward his to fit both of your faces and headbands in the frame. 

Sungchan peered over your shoulder to take a glimpse at the photos. His tongue was jammed into his cheek, and you could feel his breath along the shell of your ear. “Send me those?”

“I'd need your number first.”

He grinned boyishly, roughing a hand through his hair before taking your phone from you. “You don't even have to ask.”

As he saved his contact information into your phone, you attempted to calm the giddy butterflies in your stomach by peering back into the mirror at the headband on your head. You squished the plush sunflower heads with your fingers, humming thoughtfully. “I low-key wanna buy this.”

He glanced up from your phone before handing it back to you. “If you buy that one, I'll buy this one,” he replied, pointing up at the crab claws on his head. 

“You're such an enabler,” you jested. A beat passed. “Okay, but only if you get it with me.”

“That is what I said,” he chuckled, eyebrows arched. 

The remainder of the time you and Sungchan spent in the shop was mainly to figure out what you would purchase for Minjeong and what Sungchan would buy for his mom. (Mainly, implying that there was still room for shenanigans.) It took a little more than half an hour, but you both emerged from the souvenir shop with a gift bag each, containing your headbands and the baubles bought. 

The arcade was only about a ten minute's walk from your location, so you and Sungchan took your sweet time getting there. As the two of you walked—the backs of your hands grazing against one another, shoulders bumping—you nearly forgot that Sungchan was your brother's good friend. Jeno had never made it a point that you and his friends should never mix, and you knew he could care less about your love life, but this was different. (Was it?) It felt like something that shouldn't happen, and yet, why were you starting to want it so badly?

The outside of the arcade was a cream colored building, much like the others in town, but with large posters on the outside beckoning guests to come in and try their hand. Your brothers texted you to let you know they were in a game of laser tag right now, so that gave you and Sungchan a little more time to yourselves within the arcade. 

“I have an idea!” Sungchan grabbed your free hand and hauled you off toward something in the distance. 

The feeling of your fingers slotting with his had more than just your steps skipping. “Hey, man—you and your long legs need to chill!” You hollered at him through a laugh. 

He sent you a look over his shoulder before stopping at one corner of the arcade. With jazz hands, he presented his marvelous idea. “Ta-da!”

Before you was an all-time classic: Dance Dance Revolution. 

Your eyes widened just as your smile did. “It's like you read my mind,” you marveled. 

The machine was just like the movies with a multicolored screen of bright blues and purples, a platform with two sets of arrows in the floor, and two arched rails at the back for each player to hold onto as they danced the night away. 

Sungchan marched up onto the platform and fished a wadded up paper bill out from his wallet. “Have you played before?”

When the machine devoured his money, the screen leapt to life and blasted its opening music to announce that somebody was willing to step up to the challenge. 

You set your gift bag down at the foot of the platform and climbed up to join him. “I've only seen it done before, but I've always wanted to try it.”

You and he locked eyes, and you were sure the twinkle in his was a reflection of just how excited you were. 

“Well, today is your lucky day, party girl,” he chirped. “Let's see what you've got.”

It didn't take long for you to figure out that “what you've got” was a lot less than whatever Sungchan had. 

You grappled onto the railing behind you tightly as you stomped your feet against the coordinating arrows that flashed on-screen. How long had it been since that fateful first round? Ten minutes? Two days? It was all mashing together. 

“This is unfair; you have longer limbs,” you groaned after missing a few arrows in a row. Why were you so out of breath?

A bead of sweat dribbled down the side of Sungchan's head. It was almost comical how serious you were both taking this game. “I have practice,” he corrected cheekily. 

“Same difference!”

“A master never blames his tools.”

You huffed. “Bullshit.”

At this point, your losses were becoming ridiculous. Desperate times called for desperate measures. 

For a sequence you knew you were going to miss, you leaned over and pinched his side. Sungchan jolted—it did the trick, and he missed the steps. His head whipped over to you, an impish gleam in his irises. 

“Oh ho ho… you wanna play that game?”

You placed your hand on your hip as the round ended. “If I'm gonna lose, might as well go out with a bang.”

His tongue swiped over his lip. “You're on.”

The next round commenced, and adrenaline spiked through you like a spear, more powerful than before. You knew to expect Sungchan's revenge, but you struck first. 

A poke at his side resulted in a tickle at your waist. You returned his parry with a blind poke at his stomach. 

Anticipating his response, you spotted his arm incoming out of your periphery and moved to step out of his reach. Instead of solid platform, however, your breath hitched at the feeling of half your sandal slipping off the edge. 

Sungchan's eyes went wide and his arm instead curled around your waist and hauled you to him. “Shit,” he muttered, “are you okay? Sorry, that was totally my fault.”

Your palms had landed on his chest, your heart rate slowing but not fast enough. All of the excitement in your veins was likely more so from the game itself, and not from almost falling off the platform… and perhaps, another part of it was you realizing just how close you and Sungchan were now. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I'm completely fine; don't even worry about it. And it wasn't your fault—I miscalculated my step and I started it anyway.”

He pressed his lips together. “Still.”

“Nice catch, by the way,” you said quietly. 

You saw his eyes leave your gaze, and this time, you followed in his movements. He ducked his head, almost shyly. “I guess so,” he chuckled. “I'm glad I caught you.”

If anything, your heartbeat was gaining speed again. The hand pressed into your waist was a little more addicting than you would have liked, and his mouth was closer than you thought it had been. 

In the neon glow of the Dance Dance Revolution screen, you and Sungchan leaned toward one another with one aim, and one aim only. 

“Hey guys!” 

You leapt off the dance platform at the same time that Sungchan zipped to his side, gripping the railing with an expression akin to a deer caught in headlights. 

You pressed a hand against your palpitating heart and turned to find all three of your brothers bounding over to where you and Sungchan were. 

“Oh my god,” Anton gasped, “is that DDR?”

It seemed that Anton and Sohee were more focused on the game than yours and Sungchan's compromising position. But Jeno… you noted the suspicious narrowing of his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest…

You swore you and Sungchan swallowed at the same time. 

“Did we interrupt something?” Jeno drawled. 

“Nope!” 

You and Sungchan looked at each other at your simultaneous answer. Great. That definitely wasn't even more conspicuous or anything. 

Jeno pressed his lips together. “Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced. “Well, Mom and Dad texted and asked for us to meet them at the house, so we've gotta go.” He lifted the screen of his phone up for you to see. Dear god, you hadn't even realized they'd texted the group chat.

You cleared your throat. “Right.” 

You picked up your gift bag, and your younger brothers immediately flanked you on either side to gush about the game of laser tag they had just partaken in. Though you nodded and engaged in their conversation, your mind was elsewhere. 

Plus, it was hard not to be hyper aware of the fact that Sungchan was now alone to face Jeno somewhere behind you. You were not looking forward to the car ride back.

There were always some, unspoken fine lines that should not be crossed—at least, purposefully. In retrospect, you knew Jeno didn't care about who you chose to spend your time with, as long as they treated you right. In the same vein, you didn't care much about what he thought when it came to your own decisions, and yet, you found yourself caring a little more because this was one of his friends. Not yours. 

But feelings were feelings… and you were slowly coming to terms with yours. 

It was like déjà vu when you crept down the stairs in the dead of night for the second time this vacation. You simply could not bear staring at that wooden ceiling any longer with your mind reeling from this afternoon's events. 

The living room was yet again a cacophony of light snoring, and you crossed the room toward the back door once more. 

You paused again, the sight of Sungchan's back a familiar one. Instead of sitting on the porch steps, though, he leaned against the railing, gazing out at the dark waves. It was yet another calm night out on the embankment, but the moon tonight was hidden away behind a few wisps of cirrus clouds. 

He glanced over his shoulder at you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you greeted softly, gently closing the door behind you so you could join him at the railing. It was funny how you both were on the same wavelength. Fate had a funny way of encouraging you.

You and he hadn't properly spoken since the arcade, and Jeno hadn't said a word about it to you either. Dinner had gone on normally enough, so you were unsure of where this all stood. 

“I wanted,” Sungchan began, “to talk to you about something.”

You glanced over at him and found his eyes already on you. “Sure, of course.”

He straightened, gesturing to the sandy beach beyond. “Walk with me?”

You nodded and followed him down the porch steps. Your feet met the cool grains of sand, and a sense of calm seeped into your bones from the bottom up. 

A hand outstretched in your vision, uncertain. You clasped your hand in his palm, and the pair of you began to walk. You couldn't recall whether you began to adore the feeling of your hand wrapped up in his earlier or just now. 

“So…” you trailed off. 

“So,” he picked up. “About earlier today. I wanted to, uhm, make sure we were on the same page about something.” 

He stopped you both when you were a good distance from the house, where the waves slipped along the sand louder than the snores. 

“I had a really fun time with you today,” he said. 

You nodded your head in earnest. “I had a great time with you, too.”

He smiled then, hand letting go of yours to drag over his face. “I'm—I’m happy to hear that,” he replied, and you were sure he was trying to hide his growing giddiness. 

You reached over and gently pried his hands away from his face. “Did Jeno talk to you about today? Did he say anything?” Before he could reply, you added, “Because I know he means well, but who I choose to spend my time with is my decision. If he can't handle us together, then he'll have to learn to suck it up.”

“He did say something to me about it,” Sungchan admitted, “but it was just to make sure I wasn't playing around.” With his hands locked in yours, he gave your palms a reassuring squeeze. “And Yn, I'd like to take you out sometime—properly. No playing around.”

No more toeing the line in the sand. 

Your heart rattled violently in your chest. “I'd really like that.”

His expression melted into something tender, like the dark swirls of molten chocolate in the scoop of tiramisu ice cream. His thumb grazed over the back of your hand. “Okay,” he murmured, barely audible over the soft laps of the waves, “good.”

He considered you for a moment longer, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “I also—I did intend on kissing you earlier today, and I probably should have prefaced it, but—mmmh!”

You looped your arms around his neck and pulled his mouth over to yours. He sank into your hold with a content hum, his hands slipping around your waist to tug you closer to him. You'd never really thought about what kissing Jung Sungchan would be like, but you knew that your imagination couldn't have been better than this. 

When you broke apart with your foreheads pressed against each other and sharing breathing air, you let out a small laugh. The sound coaxed a warm chuckle out of your counterpart. 

“Sorry,” you breathed against his lips, “I probably should have asked first.”

He smiled against you. “You can apologize by kissing me again.”

He most certainly didn't have to tell you twice.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! (idek if that was good, im off my Game and off my Rocker dkfnrj)

m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @meosjinn @fluorescentloves @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @kflixnet

[captainkirkmccoy]

On the bottom bunk, Bones can just see movement from above. The shadows disturbed by a leg carefully lowered down the side of the top bed. 

“Nope.” Bones mutters, throwing an arm over his face. “Too early.”

Jim’s voice is raspy with brushed off sleep, that leg still dangling over the edge. “How’d you know?” 

Bones snorts in response. “Just come here.”

He scoots over just a bit, pressed up against the cabin wall. The bunk smells like fabric softener and rain. A wet breeze stirs the short hairs on the back of his neck as Jim hops down and slides in next to him, a wince held tight on his face. 

“What I miss?” Bones asks. 

“Nothing.” Jim’s too quick to respond. Jim who comes and tells Bones of every paper cut, stubbed toe and headache but once, after an away mission that put their youngest ensign in a coma, hid a scrape on his side for a week until Chapel caught him popping pain killers like candy in the medbay supply room when he ran out of his own allotment, eyes feverish from infection. 

“Bullshit.” Bones reaches out and runs a hand down Jim’s arm, brow furrowing in the dark at the grey tee just damp with sweat. 

“Bones, seriously, I’m fine.” Jim coughs into his shoulder and eases down into the bed. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

Bones won’t lose his grip on Jim’s sleeve. “No, you’re not. Where were you going?”

“For a walk.”

“At 3 in the morning?”

“It’s 4.” Jim yawns.

“Whatever.”

“Can we just go to sleep?”

Bones sits up, careful to duck his head so as not to hit the bunk above. “Get up.”

Jim sighs. “Come on.”

“Get your ass up, you infant, or I will drag you myself.”

Jim’s still for a second and Bones can see him deliberating. He knows how this ends. Bones has been manhandling him into doctor’s appointments since the Academy and he knows his husband well enough to tell when something needs extra care and attention. 

Finally, slowly, Jim sits up, head just touching the planks of the bunk above. He works his out of the bed with some difficulty and Bones eyebrows draw together so tightly he can feel a headache forming. 

Finally, Bones eases out of the bed and turns on the electric lights. Their rustic getaway seems foolish now, the dreams of a couple who can afford a low-tech vacation. But Bones wishes for a transporter pad and easy access to his medbay. 

“So?”

Jim shifts uneasily from his seat on the worn chair in the cabin’s main room. 

“I don’t know.”

Bones stares at him, unblinking for what feels like minutes rather than second until Jim looks away, toward the shadowy kitchen area and deck of the cabin. 

“I don’t.” Jim frowns, his facial expression mirroring what must be on Bones face. “I just haven’t felt right since...since Aurora.”

Aurora. The impetus for this vacation. When Bones and his med team were taken hostage for three days and Jim gave himself up to pirates so that the injured security officer and young nurse could leave. 

Bones was furious. He was furious at Jim for not thinking of a plan to get them all out, furious that the pirates hadn’t had access to medical supplies and had taken them in the first place, furious that Jim would sacrifice himself again and again. How many times do we have to do this? How many times do I think I’ll see you for the last time? Bones had screamed at him in their quarters, hands shaking, legs weak, dehydrated and sick. Jim had slunk off and worked three shifts straight while M’Benga forced Bones to rest in their quarters. It  was Spock who had bodily forced Jim back home,  who had stood between them and without words basically forced them to get their shit together. 

They’d collapsed together without a word, sleeping for a whole day as the ship whirled around them. The idea of the cabin sprung to Bones in a moment of half-sleep, Jim curled into him, the lights at 30%, a feeling of contentment hard earned settling over his thoughts. 

And so here they were, a week and a half past Aurora and the ordeal diluted from their conversations like blood in water. 

“What is it?” Bones asks finally. 

“That’s the thing. There’s nothing. No scrape, cut, bruise. I’m...I’m fine.” Jim rubs his palms into his eyes as if he can clear his vision and find the answer. “I just hurt.”

Bones takes out his tri-corder and slowly, with gentle ministrations, combs over every inch of his husband’s body. 

He rocks back on his heels, his knees popping as he stands. “Nothing.”

“I told you.”

“Nothing physical. Jim...”

“What?”

“We need to talk about Aurora.”

“No we don’t. You said your peace. I get it, Bones but I can’t stop doing my job.”

“You have a crew to worry about Jim. That’s your job. You can’t just up and sacrifice yourself any time you feel like it. Even if--.”

“Even if it’s for you?”

Bones blows out his breath. “Yes.”

Jim stand up, wince on full display and gets close to Bones. “And you wouldn’t do the same thing? You have done the same thing! You played God, you said it yourself. You brought me back, you risked your life, your job, hell, your soul. And I’m not allowed to do the same?”

“I need you more than you need me. I need you alive. I can’t. I can’t go through that again.”

“Well, fuck you Leonard McCoy because I can’t lose you either. You selfish asshole.”

“Me? Selfish? You, who threw yourself in front of that blast last month not thinking that a whole ship full of people need you, look up to you.”

“And if you weren’t there to put everyone back together, to make sure they’re safe, what would happen to the ship then?”

Jim deflates before Bones can respond, forehead resting on Bones chest in near supplication. “I’m sorry.”

Bones laughs or chokes on a sob. The sounds are the same that early in the morning. “Me too, darlin’.”

“Let’s just agree that we can’t lose each other okay?”

“Fine.”

“We’re both selfish assholes.”

“Probably.”

“I love you more, though.”

Bones lifts Jim’s head and kisses him gently. “No you don’t.”

The groan turns into something sweet as the kiss deepens and they move slowly back to the bedroom, eschewing sleep for something else entirely. 

[gumnut-logic]

We’ll be home for Christmas 2.1

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Two – Aboard This Tiny Ship – Part 1 Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2

Author: Gumnut

14 Dec 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 3633

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven’t seen it yet.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D I hope you enjoy it.

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for cheering me on and their wonderful support through this craziness. And to @onereyofstarlight for geeking out with me over the setting.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

 Day Two - Aboard this Tiny Ship

It was the bed disappearing under him and then slapping him hard that woke Virgil the next morning.

Ow, shit. He curled up, protecting his abdomen, more in surprise than any serious pain. It took him a few moments to fully awaken and work out where he was. Opening his eyes helped. Sun glared through one of his windows and he blinked, screwing up his face.

When his bed reassured him that it wasn’t going to disappear again any time soon by staying solidly attached to him for a good few minutes, he pushed back the covers.

Paper fell off the bed. His hand landed on his tablet and there was a clatter as several somethings hit the floor.

He frowned as he watched his sketchbook slide slowly over the edge and bend half its pages as it crumpled on the carpet.

What the hell?

And then he caught sight of his portable easel.

Oh.

Phthalo turquoise, rainbowed in its many shades, sat in backdrop to Payne’s Grey and white and all the tints in between. The mother and calf humpback whales swam at him out of the canvas sheet clamped to the backboard.

A blink. There was paint on his fingers, the bed sheets, and, oh shit, the carpet.

He struggled to sit up, dragging his feet off the side of the bed and onto the floor. His wounds complained at every wrong move and his head spun. Ugh, dehydrated. A pencil fell off the bed and he moved to catch it. He missed.

Damnit, another one ruined.

He rubbed a hand over his face and looked at the canvas again.

It was good. He was very critical of his work, but he knew this was good. A feeling of accomplishment swelled inside.

Just as the boat threw itself into the air for a split second only to come down hard again. Virgil’s eyes widened as the easel tilted and, in slow motion, begin to fall.

“No, no, no!” He shot off the bed and grabbed the art support, rescuing it from certain damage.

But he wasn’t supposed to be moving fast and everything in his abdomen screamed protest and he found himself frozen in the middle of his floor clutching his easel and unable to move.

Of course, that was when the boat chose to toss him around again.

The whole room shifted and he stumbled, yelped, and, by some miracle, managed to land on his bed, artwork on top of him.

His body, however, again did not approve at all and he let the easel slip to the bed covers, curled up and gave his belly time to reassure itself that it wasn’t being ripped apart.

A few breaths and he reached for his shirt on the end of the bed. Fumbling, he activated his collar comms. “Scott, you there?”

Wind roar answered him. “Hey, Virg! You’re awake early. You have to come up here, this boat is amazing.”

He blinked. “What?”

“She’s fast!” As if to emphasise that statement, Virgil’s bed bounced him up and down again.

“Ow, shit!”

“Virgil? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, too busy holding himself together.

Engine noise he hadn’t even acknowledged suddenly died off and the boat became its more familiar steady self. He could barely feel the gentle roll.

He let out a breath, drew in another, and when there was no more pain, finally relaxed on the bed. He really could have done without that.

His fingers brushed against canvas.

Hesitantly and wary of any pain, he pushed himself into a sitting position, once again letting his feet slide of the side of the bed to meet the floor.

“Virgil?” His name was accompanied by a knock on his cabin door.

It was at that point he realised he was only wearing his pyjama bottoms. A frown. He had phthalo turquoise in his chest hair.

His cabin door opened and Scott barrelled through, blue eyes immediately latching onto Virgil, assessing his condition, only to be distracted by the mess of the room. “What the hell?”

Gordon burst in behind his brother, followed by a calmer, but concerned John. “Are you okay, Virgil?”

“Uh, yeah.” Honestly, was he okay? Nothing was hurting, really, just an echo of the strain remained. “What happened to the boat?” He was almost waiting for the next buck to throw him from the bed, but there was only the barely-there gentle sway. “Did we hit rough seas? Has the weather gone bad?” The sun was still shining through his window.

“No, that was just our hot shot superior pilot attempting to prove that he really isn’t.” Gordon glared at his elder brother. “Face it, Scott, you just don’t have it on the water.”

“I have ‘it’ fine, Gordon.”

John was still frowning at Virgil. “Tell that to my fried egg which jumped off my plate and landed on the floor.”

“I was just getting a feel for the craft.”

“Yeah, well, the craft feels pretty shook up. I’m piloting from now on.” Now Gordon was frowning at Virgil. “You sure you’re okay? You’re pale.”

Of course, that set off Scott and Virgil found three frowning pairs of eyes staring at him. Self-consciously he shifted his arm to hide his incisions. Which his eldest brother immediately picked up on and before he could say anything, Scott was kneeling in front of him. “What is it?”

Virgil’s lips thinned. “You woke me up.” A glance at the clock. Oh god. “Before 7am.”

But his brother wasn’t having any of it. “Are you in pain?”

“No. I’m fine. You woke me up. We’re on vacation and you woke me up.” He put everything into a glare.

Gordon snorted. “Scott, you’re dead, bro.”

“Why is your easel on your bed?” That came from John.

“Uh-“

“Did you fall over?” His eyes cut across the room and interrogated Virgil.

Gordon rounded on Scott. “I told you!” The aquanaut whacked his eldest brother’s arm. “When in the hell are you going to listen to me?”

But Scott wasn’t paying him any attention. “Are you okay, Virgil?”

Oh, for the love of... “I’m fine! Now will someone either bring me coffee or let me get to the coffee?” Okay, so he was a little concerned about the whole floor tossing him about thing happening again. But then again, Scott wasn’t driving anymore.

He pushed himself off the bed, hunching a little to protect himself before mostly straightening and edging past Scott, and Gordon who was still glaring at his eldest brother. He fought the urge to pick up his sketchbook and the spray of cartridge paper on the floor. He wasn’t confident that bending over that far with an audience would be the greatest idea.

He met John at the cabin door and withstood his younger brother’s enquiring eyes as he made his way past.

“Oh my god, Virg. It’s amazing.” Virgil turned around like an old man and it annoyed him to no end. Gordon was holding up the painting, still attached to its support. Thank god he had used acrylics. If it had been in oils, it would have ended up all over him, all over the bed and likely totally destroyed.

The stunned expression on his little brother’s face did bring a small smile to Virgil’s lips. “Thank you. I’m quite happy with it.”

“I want it. Can I have it?” That was a very familiar response from Gordon. Anything Virgil painted involving the ocean got that response.

“I’ll think about it.”

The puppy look that resulted from that had Virgil rolling his eyes. “I said I’ll think about it. I might want to keep it myself.”

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder. “It’s a beautiful piece of work, Virgil.” John soft voice had awe in it.

Virgil’s eyes widened as he stared at his reserved brother. “Thank you, John.”

“But you need to sit down.” And his younger brother began to steer him out of the room.

“I’m fine...” But of course, Scott who had been staring at the painting as much as Gordon, shook off his stupor and took Virgil’s other side. “Aww, c’mon, I’m not dying. It doesn’t even hurt.”

“If you think I missed you yelling out in pain earlier, you’re dreaming. You are resting on the lounge and we will get you your breakfast.” Those blue eyes darted at John and no doubt met agreement. “Gordon, give this cabin a quick tidy, will you.”

“Yeah, will do.” A glare shot at his eldest brother. “As long as you keep away from the helm.”

Scott muttered something Virgil couldn’t quite hear.

Despite his protests, his brothers did exactly what they said they would and dragged him out into the lounge and made him lie on the sofa which was fortunately long enough for his height and deep enough for his shoulders to fit comfortably.

Coffee and the accompanying breakfast were served up to him and he was eyed from across the room until he consumed it.

The coffee was lovely and warm and John had out done himself with the eggs. Despite himself and despite the caffeine dose, Virgil found himself lying back down and curling up on the couch and dozing.

Alan crawled out of bed at some point and woke him briefly, but an admonishment from Scott quietened the noise and Virgil let himself drift again, the gentle sounds of the ocean and the boat lulling him to sleep.

-o-o-o-

Gordon was having the time of his life.

The boat was a beauty and under the right hands, eg. not Scott’s, she coasted through the water like a dream. It was a whole different thing to be able to open a window and let the ocean breeze tangle in his hair. He loved the water with his entire soul, but safety and necessity in his job often kept a buffer between her and him, either wetsuit or marine acrylic. It was so freeing to be able to spend some time out in the open on the water indulging in speed. There would be some snorkelling, maybe even a little diving on this trip. There was no way he was letting this opportunity pass.

The only blip in his excitement was his second eldest brother. The man was healing. He was getting better, but he obviously wasn’t himself. Virgil slept on the couch in the main living area for the rest of the morning. Each of the brothers found themselves occupations elsewhere on the boat, though Gordon did note that Scott made a point of checking on the sleeping engineer multiple times. John wandered through approximately every forty-five minutes. Even Alan checked up on Virgil from time to time. The youngest was caught up in some video game battle with John that involved some extensive swearing about half an hour ago on Alan’s part and a whole pile of laughter on John’s part.

Gordon grinned. He obviously wasn’t the only one having a great time.

He had to admit that having all of his brothers together in the one space and not being required to work was simply amazing. So often it was not quite all of them, one missing for some reason or other, usually John.

And yes, he realised that it was a little different for five grown brothers to not only work together, but to inhabit the same space. With the exception of himself, and yes, he did blush a little and smile at the thought, none of them had any associations that might lead to future partners. Though come to think of it, John had been hanging around that chick from Global One a lot.

He frowned. Virgil and Tin had been spending a lot of time together, too. Hmm, he may need to poke a bear and a spaceman for intel at some point, even if it was just to see them squirm.

Actually, yeah, that sounded like some great evening entertainment.

Scott, well...and that thought sobered him up. Scott put far too much of himself into International Rescue, Tracy Industries and their family to have anything left. Hell, the man was the one floundering out here on the ocean. With Virgil operating in less than optimal condition, Scott monitoring had fallen to John and Gordon. Neither of them managed the task as well as Virgil, but they did their best.

Their eldest brother was at a loss. John had acquired the man’s phone, likely under Grandma’s orders, and hidden it. The only reason there hadn’t been yelling between the two brothers was the fact that Virgil had been asleep on the couch nearby at the time. As it was, it was surprising Scott’s glare hadn’t sunk the boat.

There was nowhere to run on the ship and while it was a luxury yacht, Gordon hadn’t bothered to include any kind of gym equipment, there hadn’t been time. So, his eldest brother was denied his stress relief.

Gordon had given the man the helm this morning for that exact reason. If he had known he would push her to full throttle like that, he wouldn’t have. Even he could see shaking Virgil around hadn’t been a good idea. Having had his own share of injuries in his short life, Gordon could easily empathise. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be any damage done other than Virgil passing out on the couch for half the day and that was more usual Virg than anything else.

The yacht was decked out in all the top technologies. Of course, she was no Thunderbird, but her scanning equipment was excellent for a leisure vehicle, and Gordon had hotwired a few extra IR sensors into her array. So, the image he received of L’Esperance Rock was clear as a bell long before it appeared on the horizon.

The weather was to die for. He couldn’t have asked for a flatter, smoother ride. It was something he had made sure of before he even bought the boat. The trip wouldn’t have been viable if he had put his second eldest brother through a storm or even mildly rough seas. But the weather net had forecast stunning days leading up to Christmas for the entire period he planned to have them on the water and hopefully it would stay that way.

If he managed to keep Scott away from the helm.

Another sigh. A course check, a handful of calculations in his head. They would make it to Macauley by about the middle of the afternoon, give or take a dawdle around Curtis and Cheeseman Islands. It was so tempting to stop at each and check them out. It had been a while since he had been down here.

GeoNet reported that Curtis was quiet at the moment, fortunately. He had no wish to take on a volcano without a Thunderbird to back him up.

But, yes, Macauley would enable him to get Scott off the boat. The man could climb a few rocks and burn off his agitation. They could camp on the beach for dinner. It would almost be like being at home.

He grinned. Yes, set the yacht at anchor and take the inflatable into shore. He ran landing locations through his head. He might even have an opportunity to dive off Macauley.

Come to think of it...he hit the general comms line.

“A Little Lightning to Raoul Base. Mel, you got your ears on?”

It took a moment, but then a familiar voice bounced in over the water. “Thunderfish? Is that you? Whatcha doin’ all the way down there?” A pause. “And what the hell are you floating? You bein’ a billionaire or somethin’?”

“Hey, can’t I have a little vacation?”

“You? Vacated in the head maybe, but sitting on your butt? I find that hard to believe. You’re not sick, are you?” Actual concern crept into her voice. “You said you’d recovered from that crash.”

“I’m fine, Mel. Keep your hat on. It’s my brother who is a little under the weather this time. Couldn’t fly home, so we’re boating it and having a little vacation along the way.”

“Your brother? Which one?” Okay, so she was still concerned. Mel was a long-time friend. Since they had moved to Tracy Island, Raoul Island was their closest neighbour and both the northern-most and largest of the group. Mel was the director of the team stationed on the island by the New Zealand Department of Conservation and she oversaw all the research conducted on and around the Kermadec Islands.

“Virgil. A little appendicitis. He’s fine. Just a couple of extra scars and there is a little less of him than there used to be.”

“Aww, send him my best. And let me know if he needs a little nursin’. A girl can get lonely out here.” Gordon rolled his eyes. She had been flinging similar hopeful remarks about Virgil in his direction ever since his brother had airlifted her and her team off Raoul last time their resident volcano had twitched. It had been useful fodder to stir his brother with, but Virgil being the genuine and caring soul that he was, had clapped Gordon around the ear and threatened to tell Mel about Gordon’s underwear collection and the special prints he ordered in the mail.

Brothers played dirty.

But then Tin glared at Gordon enough to scorch his hair off.

So not going there.

“You? Lonely? Did the Kiwi Postal Service have to send out a special delivery this year for your fanmail?”

“Christmas cards from friends, you dorkus. You can talk. Pen says you got sixteen bunches of preserved roses from hopefuls last year.”

He frowned. “Pen? When did you speak to Penny?”

“Hey, I have to find out how you’re doin’ somehow. S’not like I can just boat over to your super secret island, is it?”

“Okay, you have a point. Though I must say, you and Penny is a combination that never occurred to me.” Probably because it was downright terrifying. Mel was more pirate than lady. You were more likely to find her in waders than heels, and her mind was a little more obsessed with these islands than was probably healthy or conducive to general conversation.

“She’s nice. You’ve done good, Thunderfish.”

“Thank you for your approval.”

“So, you’re on vacation in my isles. You watch yourself. No trashing anything. You tell your brothers to keep their rockets off my turf.”

“We know, Mel. Though you didn’t seem to mind when Virg parked his ‘bird on your doorstep. Not to mention that time I took your instrumentation down in Four, and then there-“

“Okay, okay, you are both useful and gorgeous, I get it. Just be careful, okay. It has taken years to revegetate and restore this area. If you weren’t you, I’d send the coast guard out to kick your asses out of the zone.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve had this discussion before, Mel. I have no quarantinable cargo, it has all been inspected, we won’t litter, we won’t take shellfish, we won’t step on birds’ nests, we won’t chop firewood, we won’t even look under rocks for crabs. However, I was going to ask if there was anything on Macauley you would like me to check out while I’m there. I was thinking of landing for a brief respite. Scott needs a break.”

“You’ve got the Commander on board that little dingy?”

“Aye.”

“I thought you said putting that man on a boat was equal to transporting dangerous cargo. Cargo that bites.”

“It is. Hence the stop at Macauley. Any teams down there at the moment?”

“No, most of them have gone home for Christmas.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“I am home, Thunderfish. What the hell kinda stupid ass question was that?”

Okay, touchy subject.

“No need to rip my head off. Just offering you a hand if you need one. We’ll make Macauley by late afternoon. I’m keeping the speed down a little. Is there anything you would like me to look into while I’m there? I might have a couple of hours to play with.”

“Gimme a sec.” A moment. “Hmm, it’s a shame you don’t have your little yellow submarine with you. One of the sensors in the Macauley caldera has gone offline. Burke is gonna be pissed.”

“Burke is always pissed. She needs to get a life.”

“She’s got one. Got together with one of the scientists from Tokyo a few months back. Been a hot topic ever since. Gone to Japan for the holidays.”

“Good for her.”

“Crap for me as I’m now short an aquanaut over said holidays.”

“I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll see what I can do. Hell, might even drop back after Christmas. Visiting these waters has reminded me of several reasons why I became an aquanaut in the first place.”

“Ooh, if only I could lure you here permanently. You and your Thunderbird.”

Gordon snorted. “You’re in my retirement plan, Mel.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You want me to check any of the landward or shallow water sensors?”

“Nah, they’re all good. Do you have your sensor buoy with you? Any indepth readings would be lovely.”

“Already started spot analysis. I’ll send you last night’s data. Caught a great shot of a humpback and her calf. Full details recorded. They were both untagged, but we ran into Hilda.”

“All the way down there? Great, anything you can send me would be fabulous.”

“FAB.” He grinned.

“Exactly, smart ass. You look after yourself out there. I hear International Rescue is on vacation, which means you get into trouble, it will be my ass that gets yanked out of bed. I value my sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Keep that in mind. Raoul out.”

He had to grin.

-o-o-o-

End Day Two, Part One

Day Two, Part Two

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

One of the boys suffering Walking Corpse disorder and doing risky things because they think they can't die if they're already dead?

John tripped down a flight of stairs, got up and was convinced he was dead. It was really as simple as that.

He goes to his mum’s house and apologizes for dying so young and honestly, she thinks it’s just the 70′s, if you get what I mean (*ahem* drugs).

After that, he goes about his business as a dead person. He doesn’t eat, because dead people don’t eat. He doesn’t drink water either.

He still goes to band practice though because...you’d have to ask him. It’s been two days without any food or drink, so John promptly passes the fuck out not even half way through. The boys are fussing over him, saying he’s pale as a ghost and John is like, yeah of course I am. I’m dead.

They laugh it off because John has such a weird sense of humor and try to get him to eat but he violently refuses. 

“I told you guys, I’m dead. I don’t eat. That’s ridiculous to think I could,” he says, arms crossed.

The boys are now worried! They think John is deliriously high. They try coaxing him to eat some more and John grows exasperated. He tells them to follow him. They climb to the top of the building they’re in (it’s only 3 stories) and John’s like, I’m going to throw myself off of here and be fine, because I’m dead!

Cue Roger wrangling John all the way to the first floor because he is absolutely not going to be trying out that party trick today.

The 3 are at a loss of what to do because other than thinking he’s dead, John doesn’t look high. Has he lost his mind over night?

Meanwhile as the boys deliberate, John’s fed up with them thinking he’s alive so he just stabs his thigh with a pen, to prove he’s dead. No blood will come out if he’s dead. Of course, blood does gush out of his leg, but he doesn’t see it. 

Everyone’s panicking so they drag John into a car and take him to the ER.

As he’s being stitched up, his complaining the whole time because of how unnecessary all of this is. He’s dead!! He doesn’t need antibiotics or stitches. And he certainly doesn’t need an IV. It’s all going to make him rot faster, which the thought of makes him really agitated.

The doctors in the ER have no idea what’s wrong with John other than a hole in his thigh and some dehydration. They’ve never seen anything like it before. They’re thinking of sending him to the psych ward which the boys don’t want to entertain. Psych wards back then were horror shows. No, they’ll try to find another option, thank you very much!

Working with John’s mom, they find a therapist who thinks they can take on John’s case. John stays with Brian in the meantime, who he seems most receptive to. Brian has convinced John to take a bath (in order to clean off the “decay”) and eat something (he said it’s a funeral rite in some made up place in the world) Brian does have Freddie or Roger come help him, because keeping John in check in between therapy sessions is a full time job. John’s burnt both of his hands trying to prove he’s dead. Almost purposefully drowned himself in the tub. Tried to stay up for a few days in a row because dead people don’t sleep. 

Once the medication he takes start kicking in, thanks to his mum being the brave one to shove it down his throat every single day, he starts to make small improvements. John doesn’t think he’s dead anymore. He thinks he’s in hell. Which is uhhhh an improvement. He’s more likely to eat and bathe that way.

Which progresses into him thinking his soul is stuck in his body. 

And to him eventually thinking he is alive.

Not because he’s always been alive, but because he was somehow revived.

Honestly? Everyone is fine with that. John was dead for a few months and now he is alive. Sure. At least he isn’t trying to kill himself anymore.

The 4 of them, with John’s mum, take a vacation after all of this. They all really deserve it.

[selenelavellan]

Devil Woman

Hello yes I fell in love with @scurvgirls House Witch AU so I did a bit of backstory for Selene in it <3.

House Witch AU

Serahlin(Mentioned) is @scurvgirls

Dirthamen is @feynites

(TW for Shitty Parenting, Abuse, and Haleir)

Selene is sixteen years of age when her book is traded away.

“How dare you!” She screams at her father, fury and anger and rage pouring out of her. Fists turning white as her hair where they clench at her hips, every muscle tensed in the aftermath of her 'Wonderful Birthday News'. The curtains catch fire and his potions quake in their bottles on the table beneath the wrath of her remaining magic. Des lets out a long, ear shattering hiss from inside of the warded crate in the corner, still trapped where Elrogathe had drugged and shoved him for the 'negotiations'.

Negotiations that had promised away her hand and her firstborn.

His palm connects with her cheek and it is not unlike the deflating prick of a balloon.

She crumples to the ground, knees banging against the hardwood floors as rage gives way to grief beneath the stinging heat of the assault.

“It is an honor,” He tsks, correcting his potions where they have shifted on the table. “A show of loyalty to the coven, to our people. It is your own fault for causing them to doubt your loyalties, child. Be grateful this is all they asked of you; there are far worse fates than marriage and family.”

“You seem to feel cursed enough by your own,” She mutters.

Elrogathe stiffens as a bolt of electricity strikes at the mirror that had been hanging on the wall behind her head.

“Your mother was worth suffering any curse,” He manages through grit teeth before finally turning to look at her for the first time today. “Even a child so devilish and selfish as you.”

–

She is married on her eighteenth birthday.

To the great grandson of their covens founder. A towering, sun blessed witch with long, bright red hair he keeps in a braid laid over his shoulder. He has been well sought after by many a witch; his bloodline after all, guarantees a very powerful child, and his family has no shortage of wealth or prestige in the circles.

She spends most of the reception searching for her book. Trying to find it, to flee, to run before their bond can be consummated. Des darts from room to room in the extravagantly large mansion, searching and scenting for any hint of their magic.

Neither manages to turn up even a scrap of what they are looking for.

The honeymoon has been arranged in one of his families summer homes, hidden away in the thick of an ancient forest.

There is no moon in the sky that night, and Haleir had driven them off before Des could manage to jump into the car. Her book is still gone, and though this was supposed to be a symbol of her loyalty to her coven, to prove her as finally one of them, she feels farther from her magic and her self than she ever has before.

She spends the night outside of herself, like some captive audience to the horrors being committed.

Des finds her in the morning, and curls into her arms. Some small semblance of comfort for what may now be their new reality. She feels better with him near, even through his exhaustion of making the journey back to her.

More like herself.

At the end of the week, she's made to pee on a stick. It's not the way her father tests for children, but Haleir assures her that this is one type of precognition the mortals have figured out.

The symbols on the display screen don't change, and her new husband makes a disappointed sound and says “Well, we'll just try again then. As many times as it takes, I suppose. I have expectations to live up to you know. “

Selene just nods numbly and runs her fingers through Des's fur as she slides into the passenger seat of the car.

Haleir scoffs down at her familiar and makes a comment about fleas and litter boxes, while his toad makes a loud croak from the backseat in what she assumes must be agreement.

As many times as it takes, her mind echoes.

...surely, that can't be too many more times. Right?

–

Selene is twenty one when she finally has enough.

Enough of feeling like only a piece of herself, enough of vacating her body each night, enough of lying there while her husband dreams of other women and she dreams of a day when she no longer has this obligation to fulfill. Far away and isolated from their coven, from any she might once have considered a friend, and with her only source of communication besides her unfaithful husband, vague postcards from her father unsubtly asking if she has managed to produce an heir yet.

Enough.

Haleir is out on one of his ‘business trips’ when she makes up her mind. It is going to be a full moon, and her own moon-blessings will mean the powers she still has may actually be strong enough to pull it off.

Des is uncharacteristically wary of her plans. He almost attempts to talk her out of it before finally agreeing that this may be her only way out.

It is a cruel plan. Cruel, and tragic, and monstrous.

An act of desperation, and her only chance.

The one benefit of her time spent dissociating over the past few years is that her dream walking abilities have vastly improved; a skill that will make what she is about to do far, far safer.

She lights the appropriate candles and pays in her blood and herbs before finally stripping and settling into the center of the circle of the rug she had managed to bring with her from her own home. One of very few items in this house that could be considered hers. Precious to her, but nothing Haleir will notice is missing if anything should happen to it.

Des is slowly circling the ritual, checking for errors, and she gives him a smile before focusing herself, and managing the incantation in a long forgotten language.

Old, and ancient, and very very dangerous.

Several creatures drift past and through her as she sits in the plane of dreams, most frustratingly uninterested in her offer.

But she waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until something seems intrigued enough to stop.

She shivers beneath the gaze of its eyes. And it has many with which to do so. Selene is having trouble making out the silhouette of the spirit as the shape of it is unfamiliar and ever shifting, edges blending into the darkness around them.

You long for freedom.

She doesn't hear its voice, exactly. There is no mouth to speak of, but she can hear them all the same, reverberating somewhere deep in her mind.

“Yes,” She says aloud. The movement of her mouth is awkward, and her voice echoes in the thick silence of the air around them and she wonders for the first time just how long she has been waiting.

What will you do with the child?

Selene hesitates.

She had been planning to leave. To fulfill her obligation to produce an heir and to find her book and to take back the freedoms that had been stolen from her.

...an easier concept when she considers the creature she will be bearing an obligation, rather than a child.

“My first born has been promised to another,” She admits. “But I will need to produce it before I can fulfill that oath. My current...partner, and I, are having difficulties.”

Do they know you are here?

Selene swallows. “...No.”

The spirit stirs a bit, at that.

You would betray them?

Selene snorts. “There is nothing to betray,” She assures them. “There is no love between us. He would rather be elsewhere, as would I. But he holds my book in some hidden place, and I cannot leave without it.”

The spirit seems confused by the concept.

That does not seem like a very beneficial partnership.

“He's more like my captor at this point,” She says. “But I need the key to my cage; and he will only hand it over if I produce a child he can claim as heir.”

This, at least, the spirit seems to grasp.

Their form shifts again, and a single blue eye as large as her head with lashes as long as the curls in her hair settles in front of her face.

Your first born is already promised, the spirit says as one long tendril reaches out to touch her stomach, So I will take the second.

Her vision blurs, and magic swirls around her. Hers, theirs, others that she doesn't even recognize. Swirling galaxies and the roots of great trees flood her mind, her fire turns to smoke and she is sucked into the creature and feels a terrifying and overwhelming sense of loneliness and age and worlds growing and dying and being torn apart and then forced back together. She sees great depths and clear skies and the world feels at once huge and infinitesimal, like she could hold it in the palm of her hand and drown in it all at the same time.

Her breath is stolen from her lungs and returned to her in great heaves as her soul is ripped out and then carefully placed back into her body.

She is shaking and crying and sweating on the rug her mother had once taught her to read on, on her hands and knees and with a migraine that makes the room around her spin. The candles she had lit are long burnt out, wax melted into large pools and already cooled, and Des is looking at her in fear and concern while pawing at the back of her hand.

“I'm alright,” She rasps, throat dry from dehydration-how long has she been here, doing this?-straightening back up and pushing her hair back, curls damp and clinging to the edges of her face.

Des lets out a soft meow, and she knows exactly what he's asking.

Did it work?

She settles one hand over the slight curve of her stomach and lets out a breath.

“...I think so.”

–

Selene gives birth exactly nine months later.

To twins, one with dark hair, and one with white; both with bright blue eyes.

Selene knows that neither she nor Haleir possess blue eyes; but that the creature she conjured for the fertility ritual did.

Thankfully, Elrogathes eyes are a deep blue and his hair a dark enough blue it is often mistaken for black, and with her own green eyes and white hair she's able to convince Haleir that the children are his. A sure sign of his virility, and that their sons will grow into very powerful, very capable witches in their own rights.

She almost convinces herself of it, too.

Almost convinces herself that in her haste and selfishness, she hasn't damned at least one of her sons to a creature that is almost certainly a demon, in retrospect.

The twins are three days old, and still without names when Haleir comes home drunk from a celebratory night with his friends.

“You can't see them like that,” She gripes, blocking the doorway with her still recovering body.

“They're'my'f'ggin sons,” He slurs, half halfheartedly trying to push her aside.

She holds her ground.

He glares down at her-or tries to, anyways. He's never been very good at holding his liquor, and he seems to be having difficulty figuring out which one of her is real.

“B'tch,” He grumbles, turning and waving like it was his decision not to go in. “F'ggin witch bitch...” He snickers. “S'till powerless witch bitch....”

Selene feels her skin heat, thinks of how satisfying it would be to light him up...and remembers the children, sleeping in their cribs behind her. Of her father, sleeping in the spare room down the hall after making the long trip to deliver his grandchildren, and how poorly it might go for her and the children to upset them both at once.

She sighs.

...She cannot leave the children alone with Haleir. He is unfit, and the oath her father signed for her is not their burden to bear.

Damn.

Damn.

She doubles down on her search efforts for her book in the following months, in hopes that if she found it she could leave with her sons. Selene tears apart the home of every one of Haleirs relatives they visit with the children, tracks down old trade ledgers and tries to see where it might have been sent, or ended up. She thinks perhaps there may be a trail to follow over the sea, but ship ledgers are notoriously unkempt and untrustworthy, and it is a very long journey to take with two toddlers.

Toddlers who are not without omens of their own.

Selene explains the first few ravens that show up at the house with lies to Haleir; after all, who could predict why birds behave the way they do? Perhaps Des tormented a friend of theirs and they are out for revenge. Be sure to throw salt over the back porch, and she'll plant fresh lavender in the front when the weather warms.

But she doesn't miss the way the birds watch her children when they play outside, or the way the shadows shift around them. Haleir is disappointed when neither of his children are sun blessed the way he is, and upset that the twins would rather sleep through high noon than watch him perform simple spells and tricks that have only frightened them in the past.

She only says that they should enroll the twins in swim classes when she finds Darevas sitting in the bottom of the pond in their backyard; curious and unafraid of the cavernous sinkhole growing in the center, and breathing as easily as though it were air in the dark and deepening water.

They are far too young for their magic to be manifesting, she thinks in a panic as she dries the elder twin off, Felasel finishing his muffin behind her.

Not for the first time, she regrets the haste in which she acted. If she knew what their biological father were, she might be better equipped to care for them.

And better prepared to protect them, too.

The twins are still six months away from their sixth birthday when Serahlin knocks on their door.

Selene has known Serahlin for as long as the children have been in school, as their children share a class together.

But when she calls her sister, Selene feels a sense of relief she hasn't known since she was fifteen years old. A sense of kinship, and the sort of gratefulness she thought she was long past.

'Thank the gods,' she praises as she opens her door wide and invites the other woman in 'for Sisterhood.'

[sarcasticdebate]

Oasis

Relationships: Echo & Spacekru, Echo & Bellamy Blake - AO3

Rating: G

Summary: Western AU Echo wanders into a new town, fleeing from the one she was chased out of and wanting nothing more than some water to drink. She doesn't expect to be so enamored by the town or it's people. 

If it were a little later in the night, and she had allowed herself a glass of that moonshine, maybe she would mention the deep sorrow that’s sat with her since she passed by Poles Ridge, the most southern landmark on a map that had placed Geda at the center. How she’s farther from home than she’s ever been before in her life. A home that’s not hers anymore, and maybe never should have been. 

The town emerges on the western horizon, a cracky outcropping against the dry flat terrain. From this distance it’s about the size of her thumbnail, the edges around it simmering in the heat. Echo considers passing it by, but she can hear her horse panting under her, and the dried riverbed she’s being following for the past forty miles doesn’t seem to be getting any wetter.

The town will have water at least, and that’s enough incentive for her to turn her reigns. Still, the horse and herself are too tired to traverse even the short distance in anything like a timely fashion. She dismounts when they are about halfway there, noticing how rocky her perch has become. Her horse needs more water than her and it’s been a dry couple of days.

Luckily the town doesn’t stop growing, and it’s motivation enough to keep her moving forward. As if sensing her own resilience, the horse remains strong too, and they stumble into the small town just before dusk.

If the place has a name, it isn’t being advertised, and she doesn’t bothering asking anyone she passes by. A few of them meet her eyes and tip their hats. One man who has the look of an immigrant from across the Pacific waves from behind his cart of vegetables, but otherwise, the townspeople recognize her as an outsider and give her room to breath.

Green’s Inn & Bar is situated near the center of town, with three stories for boarding and stables out back. A little boy sits under the overhang of the back porch and springs to his feet when he sees her, taking over the reigns of her horse with a gentle pat to his nose, and a toothy grin for her. His joy surprises her a bit, as unburdened as it is. Echo hands him a few cents without thinking about it, and if possible his delight grows at the sight of the copper coin.

“Thank you ma’am!” he calls as he takes a pail in hand and prances off towards a well somewhere. Echo cannot remember having so much easy energy as a child. Perhaps he just has good parents, or maybe it’s an indication of the kinder nature of the town in general. She can only hope.

Climbing the three steps into the salon makes her thighs burn more than it should, but her entire body burns, her skin cracked and dry and muscles tense from exertion.

“What can I get you?” asks the woman behind the bar as Echo heaves herself into a barstool.

“Just water,” Echo answers, and the woman turns to fill the order with a nod. Echo’s eyes drift shut without her permission, the restlessness of the short shifts of sleep she had dared to take on horseback the previous night creeping up on her. The tavern is quiet now, past the lunch rush and before dinner, and it wouldn’t have been hard for her to drift off if it weren’t for the man who decides to strike up a conversation with her.

“C’mon, you want something stronger than water,” he says, “Let me buy you a drink.”

Echo’s eyelids peel back, annoyance settling across her brow. There’s very little she’d like less then getting solicited at the moment.  

The man has a thin, dirty face and bright eyes. There’s a gun on his belt, but he’s shorter than her and not terribly fit, she could take him easily if he were to try anything. But she doesn’t think he will. The way he tilts his hips and crosses his arms is far from flirtatious. Not to mention his scowl.

“Alcohol is damaging when you’re dehydrated,” she says, the dryness of her tone a result of both the feeling in her mouth and her general annoyance. Unfortunately he doesn’t take the clear dismissal for what it is, tilting his head like the fact she knows something so obvious makes her more interesting. Or challenging. The frown isn’t as deep.

“Ignore him,” says another voice, female this time, and coming from her other side. “John’s been sober six years and ‘as forgotten how booze work.” The woman has darker skin, more appropriate for the desert sun, and a mark around her eye like a sailor’s tattoo. Her eyes are bright too, but not with enthusiasm. More like the shimmering waves of heat on the horizon at mid day, the ones that make water seem just a step away. Echo notices the gun on her hip too.

“You’re new in town,” the woman remarks, taking the seat next to Echo without asking. As if it were an invitation, the man, John, takes the seat on her right.

“Just passing through,” Echo says, wishing they’d get the hint and just scram.

“Passing through? Hope little Jordan’s taking care of your horse.” Echo was never groomed with manners. The next thing out of her mouth would have been a lashing dismissal to leave her well the fuck alone, if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted with a loud cough.

“Murphy, Emori, I hope you aren’t giving this lady any trouble?” Her uninvited companions turn at the sound with matching eyerolls. The new party stands behind them, his voice is deep and authoritative. Something inside her perks up immediately upon hearing it. He has his thumbs tucked beneath his belt too make his chest seem larger. The sherrif badge on his breast gleams.

“Us, Bellamy? Never,” John (Murphy?) says with clearly false affront.

“Then leave her alone,” he says, with exasperation this time rather than sternness.

“Nothing wrong with a conversation, Bellamy,” Emori says, but swings herself out of the chair nonetheless. “Sorry I never caught your name, I’m Emori,” she says.

“Echo,” she relents, a consolation for their leaving. Emori smiles like she doesn’t believe that’s her real name, but will except it for the time being. She gives her a wave before going to meet Murphy at the pool table, her hand and fingers curved like a ginger root. Echo turns her gaze to Bellamy quickly.

“Sorry about them,” he says, indicating if he can take Murphy’s vacated chair. She nods. Pleasant company she will take. “I’m convinced the two of them are the best con men west of the Mississippi, didn’t want you getting caught up in it. It’s sorta my job to manage the crime,” he says with a short chuckle, pointing to the badge like she might have somehow missed it.

“Really?” she questioned with disbelief, casting the couple a quick glance. As far as she can tell the pair are flirting outrageously as they take turns stretching out across the pool table.

“Probably planning on learning your schedule so they could nick your horse when you leave, something of a bad habit the two of them have.”

She inspects Bellamy’s face. The lines of his humor are still there, but they lay over years of turmoil and hard work, she can see it weathered on his face. The generosity doesn’t fit neatly into that mosaic. People are weathered like that too, where she’s from, and they have a way of dealing with thieves.

“Why don’t you hang them?” she asks. Bellamy blinks.

“It’s been done,” he says, somber. “Didn’t quite stick.”

He coughs, shallow and awkward from his throat. “Besides, they keep all the other raiders and gangs away. Orchestrated a ‘mining accident’ that’s kept McCreary and his boys out of these parts for years.”

Echo has some concerns about his methods of law enforcement, but she doesn’t get a chance to voice them, interrupted by the server.

“Sorry for the wait, here’s your water,” she says, handing over a bigger glass than Echo could have dreamed. “And some cabbage soup. Best stuff in town, my husband grows the cabbages himself, and it’s more nutritious than you think. You looked like you could use a good meal.”

There’s a hunk of bread next to the steaming bowl of soup and she tears into it immediately, caught off guard by her own hunger. Sustaining herself off of canned rations and the burnt game she’d shot for the past week has done no favors for her stomach.

“Thank you,” she says, remembering her manners after a gulp of the soup burns the top of her mouth.

“Of course!” The patronne says, and then turns to Bellamy. “And what can I get for you?”

“The same as she’s having, Harper” He says with a smile, “And Monty’s finest moonshine, if you don’t mind.”

Harper laughs, even as she slides down the bar to fill the order, “You know that stuff is all nauseating.”

“Just the way I like it.”

Echo sets down the glass of water, half of which she’s already downed.

“This is a nice place,” she remarks, in part to Bellamy, but mostly to herself. Recognizing someone’s needs isn’t something she’s used to in customer service. The atmosphere here is camaradic too, rather than sordid. She cups her hands around the bowl of soup, the warmth seeping into her skin.

“Yeah, Harper’s a good soul,” Bellamy says, following the woman’s back as she prepares his drink. Echo nods in agreement, but that isn’t quite what she meant.

“Not just her, your town in general. The people here are generous, they seem happy.” Bellamy tilts his head like she’s some antiquity.

“You’ve been here less than an hour and you’ve gleaned all that? After those idiots tried to scam you?”

“It doesn’t take long to feel the nature of a place,” Echo argues. She’s good at first impressions, she knows she’s right. “Even your criminals do their part to protect this town, how many places can say the same?”

That at least gives him pause, although he still seems on the fence about agreeing with her. “You must be doing your job well Sheriff Bellamy.”

He’s more pensive then, his face a little darker. Things haven’t always been like this, then. Maybe they won’t be for much longer. She wonders what he sacrificed of himself to reach this state of peace.

“I do my best,” is all he concedes. “What about you?” He asks, “What kind of place are you from?”

Does she want to tell him? The events of the past month burn her mouth hotter than the soup ever could, and there’s no real harm in this stranger knowing. Not when his kindness lifts the dark circles from under his eyes.

“A harsher one than here,” she says, “in Dakota territory.”

Bellamy shifts in his seat, and for a moment she believes he’s going to defend the cruel environment of his town, some sort of showing of male bravado, but instead he nods at her to continue when she pauses.

“Winters are always the worst, but we knew how to deal with them. It was this summer we didn’t know how to handle. The wells dried up.”

Bellamy’s face fell, even talking about it now makes the back of her throat itch. She takes another drink of water.

“I was the deputy of a town whose neighbors were killing each other for their water stores.”

It is at that moment Harper comes back with Bellamy’s food and drink. Her face was as equally stricken as his.

“Well God bless you,” she says with genuine sympathy, and for some reason Echo finds comfort in the sad pinch of her brows. She recognizes empathy of course, but can hardly remember the last time any was granted onto her.

“I thought we needed outside help,” Echo continues, acknowledging Harper with a small nod, “a commision or something to get water or at least move the people out till the dry months were past. But the mayor and our sheriff disagreed. They thought that if they allowed the townspeople lowered the population enough we would be able to ration the stores and make it by ourselves.

“I love-loved Geda, I couldn’t see it torn apart like that. When I protested their plan I was chased out of town.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harper says, her fingers are curled around the edges of her sleeves.

“As am I,” Bellamy agrees in his lower register.

There’s more to say of course. She could explain the pain and confusion she’s felt the past few weeks, thinking of the bodies of her friends and neighbors that she left behind. People she had sworn to protect. Or the anger that had made her sick the first night, the brine in her mouth a manifestation of the sourness the betrayal of her leaders had left her with. If it were a little later in the night, and she had allowed herself a glass of that moonshine, maybe she would mention the deep sorrow that’s sat with her since she passed by Poles Ridge, the most southern landmark on a map that had placed Geda at the center. How she’s farther from home than she’s ever been before in her life. A home that’s not hers anymore, and maybe never should have been.

“Well, you’re welcome here as long as you need to stay,” Harper says, “We have rooms for long-term lodging, and if you can’t pay for it there’s plenty of ways to help around here. Monty is always clambering for another pair of hands in the garden.”

“That I am,” says a new voice, Harper’s husband, who Echo recognizes even without his hat and cart of vegetables, and who seems to recognize her in turn. The look on his face suggests he’s heard the tail end of her story.  “I unpacked everything into the cellar,” he says just to Harper, followed by a brief kiss. He looks about ready to strike up a conversation with Bellamy, but is caught with his mouth half open at the look of concentration on Bellamy’s face.

“Or you might think about working for me,” he says after a held moment. He continues quickly once all the present company turn to him in confusion. “I have a deputy, and no plans to leave her jobless,” he says, to the benefit of Harper, who looked about ready to lash into him at the comment. The woman in question is no doubt a friend of hers. “But Raven’s more concerned with city planning, and getting the railroad to come this way than she’s ever been with watching crime. I could use another deputy with a good head on her shoulders, especially…”

He drifts off, but the look of contained excitement on Monty’s face suggests he suspects where Bellamy was going. “Especially when you’re mayor,” he finishes for him.

“You’re really going to run?” Harper asks with obvious excitement, the revelation news to her.

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, “I talked to Clarke about it today. She wasn’t exactly happy about it, but I can’t stand by her single minded viewpoints anymore. Killing anyone who might be a threat to the town isn’t a sound method of crime control,” here he indicates his head behind him, to where Murphy and Emori are still loitering about the pool table, eavesdropping Echo realizes now. “but she’s still unwilling to change. So we’ve decided to make it a fair race. I actually came by to tell you both. Meeting you was just a happy accident,” he says to Echo specifically. “You seem experienced in the type of situation we’re dealing with. I’d love to have you on my team.”

“You’ve known me less than an hour and you’ve gleaned all that?” she says, genuinely curious, but with a fair amount of good humor as well. By all accounts Bellamy seems to be a good man who associates with good, if morally dubious, people.

“It doesn’t take me long to gather the nature of a person,” he says with an intimate smile. For the first time in recent memory, her chest feels lighter, her heart excited. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know the horrible things she’s done in the name of justice and protection, no doubt he’s done the same, he’s seen the good in her too.

“Well that’s a load of horseshit,” Murphy interrupts, coming back to the bar. Emori reclaims her seat on Echo’s left, sneaking a sip of Bellamy’s untouched moonshine with only Echo to notice. “And to think our mayor is going to have your ego.”

“Be quiet, Murphy” Bellamy says, still focused on Echo.

“I think I’d like to stay for awhile,” she says. “Yours seems a worthy cause to fight for.”

Bellamy smiles at her as the other four erupt into debates about how to gain Bellamy favor in the election. His eyes only break away from hers when there’s a commotion at the door. A woman in fashionable yet practical clothing bursts into the room, her arms encumbered by a large stack of papers that seems at risk of falling at each of her limping steps.

“I just got back from the press, look at these bad boys,” she says to the room at large, holding up a poster with BELLAMY BLAKE FOR MAYOR printed proudly down the middle.

“Thank you Raven,” Bellamy says as Harper hurries over to take some of the papers, wasting no time in sticking them to her walls. “This is Echo,” he introduces, “She’s from up north, I’ve recruited her.”

“I’m Raven, it’s a pleasure,” she says, reaching out to shake her hand, then turning to Monty, “get me a drink, would you Green?”

The bar is a flurry of activity after that as the six of them discuss the town’s issues, and Echo is no expert, but she contributes when she can and the others listen and respond and make her question her ideals. Stories are flung around the room, Echo’s among them, and what an odd feeling it is, to feel accepted despite it.

Other patronnes come and go, stopping by to question Bellamy or to clap him on the back. Some even address her, wondering about her endeavors or welcoming her. Harper leaves at one point to collect her son, only for the boy to refuse going to bed and run around the bar to the delight of everyone except his parents. But eventually he’s tucked in, and the bar clears out, Bellamy the last to go. Monty brings her up to her new room, small but comfortable, the few belongings left in her saddlebag already there.

Echo pours herself another glass of water from the pitcher before climbing into bed. She finishes  it and feels sated.

[thaldrin]

Are you mad?

Orange hues kissed Snuffle’s gloved hands causing him to look up; the sun was setting on the sandy hills of Silithus and it was creating quite the display. Before the elf lay a work bench covered in various tools used for making potions and other alchemical creations. His head canted to one side, marveling at the colors that painted the sky however a soft groan broke his moment of peace. With his brows pinched he turned to stare into the tent behind him. A human male lay just within its flaps, movement showing that he was awake after a very long spell of unconsciousness.

Shuffling inside, Snuffles removed his gloves, tossing them to a corner and quickly pouring a glass of water from a pitcher kept close to the cot. “Here, drink.” Kneeling down beside the man he was gentle in his offering of the liquid. “Rest. I found you collapsed in a sand dune not far from the main road- Are you okay?” His voice carried a concerned note for the stranger’s wellbeing.

Fumbling for the cup the man was all too eager to drink, his hands shaking and weak with dehydration partnered with heat exhaustion. After a few moments the man’s cracked lips parted to speak and only a croak bubbled up. Snuffles’ head shook, “Here, try this, it’s an elixir to help moisten the throat and airways in these dry temperatures.” Fishing around in his apron Snuffles procured a small bottle, careful to put a few drops into the cup of water and then offer the beverage again.

Another minute or two passed after the human had consumed the drink and he attempted to speak again. “Am I.. still in Silithus?” Snuffles nodded his head. “Thank you.. My name is Roan, how long have I been out?”

“Only a few hours.” Snuffles patted the man’s arm, “Did you get separated from your caravan?” His brows pinched.

“Ah… No. No caravan.”

Now the elf was intrigued, “Why would anyone be out here alone without business? These aren’t exactly vacation-type dunes. Perhaps Uldum is better suited for visitation of the desert.”

“I have business.” Roan admitted, “A dwarven scavenger camp. I was to make my way to it with supplies but- Where are my supplies?” He tried to sit up and Snuffles eased him back down.

“Your pack and whatever else I could find are outside; I like to keep as little sand in my tent as can be helped. I think I know the camp you speak of, they sometimes trade with me for my healing tonics. You’ll be just fine here. Rest, travel when the sun returns. The desert gets to be rather chilly at night.” Just as Roan began to protest Snuffles placed his palm atop the human’s brow. A soft glow illuminated his hand and his patient’s words began to slur, eyes struggling to keep open until finally Roan’s body lay slumped in a deep sleep. With a quick pat to the human’s cheek Snuffles let out an almost childish chuckle, “But before you go I need you to test a few potions for me first.” Silver eyes illuminated with excitement, digging under the cot for a moment until he pulled out several long belts. Securing his ‘guest’ to the bed he double, then triple checked to make sure there were no chances of physical escape without difficulty. For the finishing touch, a collar with a bell fastened around the man’s neck.

The sound of someone clapping behind him forced Snuffles to turn, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he prepared to sling a spell of smite toward the intruder. “It’s just me.” That coarse voice was still unfamiliar to Snuffles, but his very being seemed to relax as if it knew before he did. A hunched troll stood there, staff in hand and red eyes locked on the night elf with a disapproving scowl. “Come, we need to talk.” He gestured for Snuffles to follow and with a roll of his eyes the elf followed.

“How did you find me, Thaldrin?” It was a frustrating pull, being this close to the troll. As if their souls yearned to be connected once more: both different sides of the same coin. Two halves of the same soul.

“We can always find one another if we try, don’t ask such silly questions.” Thaldrin dismissed the question with the wave of his hand. “I wish you wouldn’t collect strays.”

Snuffles snorted, arms crossing, “I wouldn’t have to use strays if I were given proper test subjects by the apothecary guilds but the only ones that would ever approve would be the Forsaken..” His chin lifted, “But they’re gross and even their experiments cause me moral discomfort.”

“You have morals?” Thaldrin’s brow raised, lips curling around his tusks in mild gest.

Snuffles’ eyes narrowed, “Har, har. What is it that you want? Or are you just checking in on me again? You’re like an annoying sibling I can’t seem to shake.”

Thaldrin’s head shook, “But we aren’t siblings. We’re the same person… How would you feel about becoming one person again?”

For a moment the elf froze, eyes wide and staring as if the troll had grown three heads. “ What? Are you mad? I LIKE being my own person. I hated sharing this body with you, my mind with you. We may be the same soul but we aren’t the same person. Our personalities are vastly different and frankly you’re a stick in the mud!”

With a sigh, Thaldrin moved to run his fingers gently over the tools laid out on the workbench. “No, I’m not mad. I was given a vision… One from Elune herself. I know, I know, I sound insane. Why on Azeroth would the goddess wish to speak to me? To us? We’re broken and I thought irreparable.. But I’ve had the same vision in my dreams and during meditation over and over. If we become one soul again we’ll be fixed. She will repair our minds and mold us together as one person again. Balanced. We can be Thaldrin Spiritleaf again; uplift our name from the tarnish of our father and make mother proud to call us her son-“ There was a danger in Snuffles’ silver gaze at the mention of their mother, even Thaldrin who was not normally frightened by his other half had to give pause.

“I’m not interested. Not just because I don’t believe in your visions, but because I also don’t trust that horrid creature of an entity you call ‘goddess’. She may be your deity but she is no longer mine. We gave ourselves to the moon, everything that we were, and how were we rewarded?” The elf’s words were sharp, anger boiling behind them. “If she were to miraculously aid us, it would be out of guilt and to save face, not to actually help us. She’s as much of a monster to watch her night children suffer as the woman who did this to us.”

It was Thaldrin’s turn to glare, “Don’t ever speak of Elune that way. I know you still believe in her.”

“Believe? Yes. Look to for guidance? Never again. Believe she has touched YOUR mind with visions? To aid us? Don’t make a mockery of me. I WILL NOT rejoin you, Thaldrin. You need to accept what we are now. What YOU got us into.” Snuffle’s teeth bare at the other male and his hands turned toward his work, straightening up the already clean space.

“ME?“ The troll scoffed, “We were the same person then. That was a WE. Why can’t you remember how we used to be? Why don’t you want to be that person again? We were HAPPY then! Now look at us! Broken! Used! Unwelcome! Both of our names illicit FEAR and ANGER! How can you be okay with this?!”

“I’m not okay with it! But if it’s what makes people not try to kill me then I’m okay with it! I’ve been left alone! If you want to go and play hero and stir feelings of joy then so be it! But you have to face the music! WE WILL NEVER BE NORMAL!” Taking a deep breath, Snuffles shoved himself away from his work and began to move around the back of his tent, trying to create space between himself and his other half.

It didn’t work, Thaldrin simple followed, his staff clutched tightly within his hand causing his blue knuckles to turn white. “You lie to yourself. You think you’re happy alone but you aren’t. Neither of us like to be left alone. We like company, friends. We both want allies, people to care about and people to give a damn about us too. Why not TRY? I’m sure if it doesn’t work we can be separated again, but I am telling you, it WILL work!”

Snuffles kept his back to the troll, teeth gritting. “I like being my own person. I want to find a way to fix our souls so that we are our own person. We could be brothers- twins! No one would know the wiser if we found you a proper elven body, not that gross troll. Don’t you like being away fr-“ A loud, hard, thwack struck the back of the elf’s head and he stumbled. Briefly he saw stares, vision turning back as his body fell forward and landed firmly in the sand.

“You will not mess this up for us as you have EVERYTHING else, Snuffles.” Thaldrin glared down at the night elf, poking him once with the butt of his staff to make sure he wasn’t moving before moving to bend down beside him. “I am sorry it has come to this but I am doing this to help us both.” He sighed, “I hate violence…” Re-attaching his staff to his back, the troll bent to scoop his hands under the large elf’s body with the intention of lifting him up.

Snuffle’s turned, sand grasped in his hand flinging it into the troll’s eyes, within his other hand a burning ball of Light that he used to claw down across the tusked face. Thaldrin let out a howl of pain, falling back and trying to get the sand from his eyes. “SNUFFLES!” He bellowed in anger. Sand began to swirl and dry, spiny roots raised from the parted sand, grasping onto the elf before him attempting to pin him down.

“What-? Thaldrin have you lost your mind!? When did I become the sane one! Release me!” Snuffles did his best to rip at the skinny little plants, their spikes causing the man’s hands to bleed, sand soaking up the blood just as the man had thirsted for water in the tent. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Neither do I! So stop struggling!” Thaldrin barked back, finally getting to his feet and standing over the struggling Snuffles. “The vines will stop if you do!”

A snarl ripped through Snuffles’ chest and his body suddenly turned to a transparent, shadowy figure, morphing into an orb and then re-forming outside of the thorned weeds. This was not something Thaldrin had expected; when had his other half become skilled in shadow magic? That shadowy orb turned solid once more, a firm hand gripped the troll’s arm and yanked the massive figure closer to the elf. Using his free hand he twined it’s into Thaldrin’s dreads and let out a hiss, “If you were anyone else I would kill you.” Snuffles hissed through his teeth as a massive amount of magic crashed from the elf and into the troll. No gentleness was spared as he man-handled Thaldrin’s mind into unconsciousness, tossing the body to the sand once he was sure it wouldn’t wake any time soon.

With an angry huff he kicked sand over the troll’s body. “Asshole. Now I have to move again.” Looking to his tent, then to the sky his scowl creased further. He hated working in the dark, hated missing his sleep. Not like he could sleep without a proper potion for it anyway, he’d have to forgo it this evening. Snuffles mumbled elven explicatives under his breath and began cleaning up camp; he’d have to leave his new subject unfortunately, and likely one of his spare canteens of water for his infuriating other half when he finally woke up.

His head shook and his gut told him this argument wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

[acindra]

This One's For Believing, If Only For It's Sake

Pairing: Geoff/Jack/Jeremy

Words: 2185

Summary: Geoff, Jack, and Jeremy are on vacation. Nagging, fishing, and some self discovery ensues.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

A/N: You should probably read I'm Not a Betting Man, But This Is A Sure Thing, but if you don't- Geoff is a demon, Jack is a thaumaturge, and Jeremy is a human who can change his hair color at will. Or so he thinks.

Jeremy was warm.

Very warm, but not uncomfortably so.

He knew he had planned to get up at a reasonable time to go exploring, but he was just so very warm, snug in the bed.

As he struggled to convince his body to move he realized his hand was caught under something- or more specifically, someone.

From the soft snoring beside him, he could tell it was probably Jack.

Opening his eyes, he watched Jack’s breathing fondly, before trying to wiggle his hand out from under him without waking him up.

Jack rolled closer and onto his side, effectively pinning Jeremy’s arm in place.

Jeremy groaned internally, unsure how he’d get his arm back.

Jack blinked lethargically at Jeremy before smiling and scooting closer still. “Morning.” he told him, nuzzling the side of Jeremy’s head. “Stay.” he requested, in what he would swear was not a whine.

“I wanna go exploring, Jack.”

Jack grumbled under his breath, worming his arms around Jeremy’s body so he could cling to him.

“Jaaaack.” Jeremy protested, wiggling in his grasp, but Jack just clung tighter.

They had both almost fallen asleep again when Geoff opened the door with a loud bang. “Wake up you fucks, I made breakfast!” he announced.

They both groaned at the loud noise that was Geoff.

Jeremy sat up, tugging his arm out from under Jack who burrowed deeper into Jeremy’s side.

Geoff came over and kissed Jeremy soundly on the lips, tugging on his arm so he’d get out of bed.

Jeremy slid his legs off the bed, but Jack still held him tight around his middle.

“Staaay.” he beseeched again.

“But food.” Jeremy protested. “Sorry, Jack.” he said, prying his hands off.

“Betrayal.” Jack said, dramatically, but moved to get out of bed all the same.

In the kitchen, Jeremy snagged a cupcake, one of the batch called Smoke Surprise Michael had given them for their vacation, from the counter and popped it into his mouth. He blew out a puff of smoke and it formed into a shark that wiggled around in the air for a few seconds before dissipating.

“Hey! You’re ruining your appetite.” Geoff complained.

“Aw, Geoff, I’ll always have room for your wonderful cooking.” Jeremy reassured him.

“You fucking better.” he grumbled.

-

Jeremy was lacing up his shoes when a bottle of water was brandished at his face. He blinked as he registered what it was and looked up questioningly at Jack who was carrying an additional water bottle.

“If you’re going to go out take water with you. It’s hot out and I don’t want you to die of dehydration.”

“I’m not going to go that far.” Jeremy protested.

Jack gave him a stern look. “Jeremy. Take the water. And take this one out to Geoff. Put on sunscreen, too. Geoff has it.”

Jeremy sighed. “Yes, mom.” He took the water bottles.

“I don’t want you getting skin cancer. I don’t think I can heal that.” Jack admitted.

“Aw, Jack.” He kissed him softly. “I promise I will take care of myself.”

“Good. Come back in one piece, please.”

“I will.” He smooched Jack again before heading out. “The serial killers have to catch me before they can chop me up!” he called after him.

Jeremy headed down the path to the lake dock where Geoff had a portable chair, a cooler full of beer, and a fishing pole.

If asked, he would claim he was fishing.

Jeremy knew that in reality he was using this as an excuse to drink and nap all day.

Upon reaching Geoff’s chair he quickly realized he was, in fact, asleep.

Jeremy smiled, reaching for the sunscreen on top of the cooler.

Geoff’s tail curled around his wrist suddenly. “Let me do that.” Geoff murmured, sitting up a little.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.” Jeremy replied, obliging when Geoff motioned for him to give him his arm.

“Was just resting my eyes.” Geoff unscrewed the lid of the sunscreen and applying some to Jeremy’s arm, lingering on his bicep.

“Jack told me to bring you water.” He said placing the bottles on top of the cooler.

“Jack worries too much. I’m not going to die of dehydration out here. It’s barely warm compared to hell.”

They switched arms.

“Just humor him, please?”

Geoff made a noncommittal noise. “I can’t even get sunburned but I put the damn sunscreen on, didn’t I? Let me do your neck.”

“We appreciate when you play human with us.” Jeremy said, kneeling down in front of Geoff.

“In return you could ‘play’ with me.” Geoff said lasciviously. “I like it when you’re on your knees.”

Jeremy looked over his shoulder with a grin. “Can I take a rain check for when I get back?”

Geoff sighed. “Fine. I was getting some important fishing done anyways.” He finished applying the sunscreen with a pat. “All done.”

“Thanks.” Jeremy said, getting back up. He made to leave but Geoff’s tail caught him again.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Jeremy leaned over and kissed him deeply.

Geoff pulled away with a lazy grin. “I meant your water bottle, but I like the way you think.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I knew that.” he protested, good naturedly. “I just wanted to kiss you.”

Geoff gave him a swat on the ass. “Save it for later, big boy.” he said with a wink.

-

Jeremy was ankle deep in a stream looking for cool rocks.

Someone cleared their throat above him and he startled backwards, almost losing his balance.

“Holy shit you gave me a heart attack!” he gasped, a hand over his heart.

The lady who had checked them into the cabin was standing a few feet away on the shore, her arms crossed over her chest and an unimpressed expression on her face. She looked just as out of place as she had when they had been checked in, decked out in an excessively frilly pink dress with ribbons everywhere and bright pink hair. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“Sorry, am I not supposed to be in the river?” Jeremy asked, moving to get out.

“What? No. I don’t care about that.” She said, swiping at the air like she was destroying the words in front of her. “Your aura is all over the fucking place and you’ve been tramping all over the place like a fucking elephant, who taught you to walk with the land because they need to get something checked.”

“Uh. What? I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. I think you have the wrong person.”

She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t think I do. I can literally smell it on you. You reek of old magic.”

Jeremy put his hands up in appeasement. “Listen, lady. I’m just a human. The only magic I can do is change my hair color and I’m pretty sure that’s just a fluke. Now I’m gonna go ba-” he started shuffling away from her.

“Oh no you don’t.” She said, pinning him with a glare. “Are you telling me you don’t even know you’re sidhe?”

“Because I’m male. Er. He?” Jeremy agreed, slowly.

She facepalmed. “Fae. You’re fae.”

“I’m pretty sure if I was a fairy that would have come up sometime in the twenty four years I’ve been alive.”

The look she gave him could kill a lesser man.

“Look, lady, you seem nice. A little unhinged, but nice.”

“My name is Kdin.” she gritted out.

“Kdin?”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

“Ok! Ok, Kdin. I just want you to know my boyfriends both know I’m out here and would probably miss me a lot if I went missing. So I’m gonna go back to them now and we can forget this ever happened and I won’t call the police on you, ok?”

Kdin snorted. “Are you allergic to iron?”

“What?”

“Iron.”

“I… don’t know? This isn’t minecraft. I don’t come into contact with iron all that often.”

“You look like you work out. Dumbbells are made of iron. Ever get allergic reactions when you use them?”

Jeremy slowly nodded. “I had to buy rubber coated ones.”

“Do you ever feel the need to count things spilled in front of you?”

“You gotta make sure you pick everything up.”

“Do you particularly like milk and honey?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“You’re a fae. Even if you didn’t have any of that, I can see the magic on you.”

“Why don’t I have wings then, huh?”

Kdin gestured around her. “Does it look like I have wings, either?”

“Well, the ribbons kinda make you look like you do, but no. How do I know you’re actually a fae, then?”

“You’re dating a demon and a witch. It’s a bit too late to be questioning magic, isn’t it?”

“Fair enough. What do you want with me? Is this a territorial thing?”

“No. I just wanted to know what the hell you thought you were doing with so much erratic magic.”

“So, what, now you’ve got to kill me or something?”

Kdin visibly deflated. “I could teach you some sigils and stuff. I guess.” Suddenly there was a gleam in her eyes that made Jeremy want to back away from her even more. “Actually, I think this could be rather… fun.”

-

Jeremy was washing the windows of the vacant cabins next to theirs when Jack rounded the corner.

“There you a-what are you doing?”

Jeremy turned and grinned at him. “Oh, hey Jack! Kdin says I’m a fae and that this will help me hone my magic.” Jack’s eye twitched as he fought between wanting to watch Jeremy using his muscles and calling out what was clearly a prank.

“Yeah,” Jeremy went on, “She’s like the Mr. Miyagi of the fae.” He made ‘wax on, wax off motions.

“There is no Mr. Miyagi of the fae.” Jack told him. “And if there were, it would not be her.” he said pointing at Kdin who had been watching from the nearby dock. “This is clearly a prank. And why didn’t you do anything about this?” Jack yelled at Geoff, who was still ‘fishing’ off said dock.

“Don’t yell!” Geoff yelled back. “You’re scaring away the fish!”

Kdin rolled her eyes. “There’s not even fish in this lake, you fucking idiot!”

“Well not if you keep yelling!” Geoff protested, flipping her off.

Jeremy frowned. “Does this mean I can’t collect and barter souls.”

Kdin shrugged. “I mean you can if you want to.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Jack commanded. “No one in this relationship is allowed to collect souls.”

Geoff started laughing.

“No. Jeremy you are not allowed to collect or barter anything from any humans and you,” he pointed at Geoff, though Geoff was still looking out at the lake and couldn’t see him, “Are not going to be a bad influence on him or so help me I will bind you to the middle of the laundry room.”

Geoff ignored him, still laughing.

“And if you help him I’ll make you do the laundry while you’re in there.” Jack threatened.

Jeremy dropped the sponge he was using into a nearby bucket and hopped off the stool he was standing on. “I guess that explains why she wanted me to take off my shirt.” he muttered.

“If you got it, flaunt it!” Kdin interjected, wholly unrepentant.

Jack glared at her but turned to hug Jeremy. “I’m so glad you know what you are now. And that this isn’t some horrible rare illness or a curse.”

Jeremy hugged him back tightly, thinking back to the week Jack had spent trying to figure out the magic surrounding him only to come up with nothing but that it wasn’t currently harmful. “Anyways, what were you looking for me for?” he asked into Jack’s shoulder.

Jack pulled away. “Oh I made dinner and figured out how to operate the tv. I figured we could watch some netflix after dinner.”

“And chill?” Geoff added, suddenly interested.

“Sounds like a good idea.” Jeremy agreed.

“Well, since I am no longer needed,” Kdin said, brushing imaginary dust off her skirts, “I’ll just go fuck off, shall I?” She came to collect the bucket and wandered off back towards the office cabin.

“It was nice to meet you! Thanks for teaching me the sigils and stuff!” Jeremy called after her.

Jack looked concerned. “We should research them before you use them so we can make sure they’re legit. And now that we know what kind of magic you have we can find a way to harness it.”

“Yeah one of them looked particularly like a dick so that’s probably not real.” Jeremy agreed.

Geoff took the opportunity to sidle up to them both and wrap an arm around each of them. “What’s this about dicks? Are we- are we sucking dicks? Cuz I can get behind that. Or behind one of you.” He said, winking at Jack.

Jack gave a long suffering sigh as Geoff lowered his hands to grope at their asses.

Jeremy grinned at them, the feeling of knowing who- what he was settling around him like a blanket.

A/N:  The joke with 'sidhe' is it's pronounced 'shee'