#(cause i'm like 80% sure i saw them whispering to each other as i was taking the 1 empty seat in the middle of the aisle szdsftyhjkl)

[taylorsabrina]

happy anniversary to speak now tv and my first taylor swift concert! i can't believe it's been a full year since i got to see my favorite artist live, and not only that!! i got to witness taylor lautner backflipping his way down the stage!!! it was so magical and surreal. 💜

[pftones3482]

Listen bestie I saw your post of just posting WIPS and not finishing them and I'm gonna need you to hand the Steve Harrington Spiderman AU over right now regardless if it has an ending or not

Please bestie I crave ❤

Posting WIPs goes against every fiber of my being, but I can at least concede to posting the part of the piece that I enjoy the most. Because it's not done, I'm not gonna post on AO3, but it IS pretty long, even after cutting some of the stuff before and after these sections, so it's under a "Read More" for length.

Basically all you need to know going into this is that it's set post season 3, Robin already knows, and I based it on the fact that the original Spiderman appeared in 1962 (comic wise), so putting him in the 80s wasn't an issue lol (also this is the version of Spiderman where his web powers are part of his body, not manufactured, cause I like that version more). And also I took some images from the trailers and the end of last season to base the demi-dogs on.

And now I'm gonna stop rambling with nerves and just drop this here lol. This is the dumbest thing I feel like I've ever written, but it has a soft spot in my heart (please know that this has been in my drafts for over two years and I just add to it/edit it whenever the feeling strikes). Hope it lives up to your expectations lmao

~~

“Don’t you touch him,” Steve growled, stepping in front of Dustin, bat at the ready.

The demidogs – where the FUCK had they come from? – snarled, haunches lifted in the air and multiple mouth flaps whipping with spittle. They looked wrong – less like a canine, more like a human. They had fully developed fingers, shoulders, and weird abs that hadn't been there before. Their hips were prominent, and Steve tightened his grip on the bat. “Dustin. Run. Radio the others.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

Steve clenched his jaw. “Dustin-”

“If you die, I die.”

The dog on the left lunged for Dustin and Steve didn’t think. He dropped the bat and threw his hand out, web circling the dog-beast-human-thing and sending it crashing to the forest floor with a yip. The other two charged and Steve took them down just as fast, taking an extra second to bind them all to the trees before slowly turning to Dustin.

The boy was staring at him, wide eyed, his walkie on the ground where he’d dropped it. Steve lifted his hands slowly, heart hammering. “Dude, I…I should have….”

“You have powers,” Dustin whispered.

Steve licked his lips. “Yeah.”

His chin quivered. “You’re…you lied to me.”

Steve felt his heart drop. His lips parted. “Dustin-” he tried.

Dustin pointed at him, eyes flickering quickly to the still struggling demidogs. “Don’t,” he managed. “I’m pissed at you. We need to take care of these shits. But I’m pissed.”

Steve lowered his hands as Dustin scooped up his walkie and stormed away before turning back to the dogs and picking up his bat. It felt wrong, killing them while they were tied up. But one thought of how they’d been about to turn Dustin into a midnight snack was enough for Steve to lift the nail-speckled wood over his shoulder and swing.

He left the bat leaning against a tree, looked back over his shoulder, and took off for home.

~~

Steve wasn’t sure why he decided to patrol the next night. He’d waited all day for Dustin to confront him at work, but nothing had happened. No loser teenagers, no goofing off, and Steve had never felt more miserable. Robin had picked up on it, and he’d explained in hushed tones what had happened. She hadn’t been able to do more than squeeze his shoulder reassuringly, and now Steve was standing on City Hall like nothing had changed.

Like he hadn’t lost one of the best kids in the universe.

He couldn’t say it was all his fault – Dustin of all people should understand the importance of secrets. But they hadn’t ever kept secrets from one another, not as long as they’d known each other. So Steve could understand why he felt so upset. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, though.

“Steve? Steve come in, goddammit. Steve!”

Steve fumbled for his walkie, on his hip out of habit, and slung it up to his mouth. “Henderson?”

“It’s Mike. The demidogs – Dustin said you guys got rid of some of them.”

Steve frowned, twisting to look at the woods. “Yeah, last night, we – what do you mean, some of them?” he asked sharply.

Mike’s voice was strangled. “There’s more.”

“Where are you?”

“Hops old place, the shed behind it. We’ve been using it as an in between for-”

“Don’t care,” Steve said, zapping the walkie to his shoulder and swinging in the direction of the old cabin. “How many?”

“Seven? Maybe eight?” Mike’s voice was breaking now, and it made Steve panic. He’d never heard the kid freak out like this outside of where El’s safety was concerned. “B-But Dustin and Max are stuck up a tree, they’re surrounded. Lucas and I don’t have anything.”

Steve didn’t bother to question it. He knew the kids, knew they had probably been goofing around, knew that they wouldn’t do something like that without it being a last resort. “I’ll be there in three minutes,” he estimated. “Call Nancy, call Robin, get a ride from somewhere.”

A pause. “But I thought you-?”

“Mike. Do it.”

He paused for long enough to shut the walkie off and sling it back on his hip before swinging into the woods. The forest surrounding Hawkins was old, which meant the trees were tall, which meant Steve could swing through with ease, tracing a path in his mind to Hoppers old place.

He landed silently on the lowest branch of a tree when he was over the cabin, eyeing the surrounding trees. He could hear the growling, could hear Mike and Lucas’ hushed whispers from inside the storage shed, the only building still standing after the destruction of Hopper’s house.

Steve’s eyesight was way better in the dark, and it didn’t take him long to spot Max’s bright red hair up a tree about thirty feet away. Dustin was on the branch opposite her, each of them a good twenty feet in the air, but the demidogs weren’t backing down. Growling, snapping, trying to climb one another to get to them. Steve could see them holding hands in sheer terror, and he snapped.

Those were his kids, goddammit.

He set the walkie in the tree so it didn’t get damaged, made sure his mask was snug, and dropped onto the shed roof with little more than a thump. Mike and Lucas immediately shut up under him and he tapped twice, very distinctly, hoping they’d understand that it wasn’t a monster on the roof.

Steve crept forward, peering over the edge of the shed. There was one demidog pacing outside of it, growling and occasionally headbutting the door, but the boys must have bolted it from the inside. Smart. He lifted his head, judging the distance between the shed, the remainder of the house, and the tree Max and Dustin were in.

He jumped.

The web stuck to the frame of the destroyed house and Steve swung silently through the air, letting go of the strand and leaping to a taller tree before whipping around and landing on the branch next to Max.

He clapped a hand over her mouth before she could scream. “Don’t,” he whispered, looking down at the demidogs. “How many?”

She swallowed and looked over at Dustin in shock, who was glaring at Steve like he was hoping to burn a hole through his mask. “Just those,” she said finally. “And the one waiting for Lucas and Mike – our friends in the shed.”

Steve nodded. “Okay. Stay here.”

He looked down again, steeled himself, and plummeted.

Dustin’s shout of protest registered vaguely in his head as he landed solidly on one of the demidogs, cracking it’s spine with his heels. It whimpered and died under him and Steve allowed himself to smirk.

“Six to one assholes. Let’s go,” he challenged, looking up at the rest of them.

The biggest one leapt, and the next thirty seconds were a blur.

Steve clamped mouths, swung around trees, wound legs together, snapped necks. He was focused mainly on the two kids in the tree, on keeping them safe. He put the last dog out of it’s misery and stood, panting. His suit was a little torn from so many claws, but as far as he could tell, he was okay.

He’d forgotten the one guarding Lucas and Mike.

It landed on his back with a shriek, claws digging into his back and teeth snapping at his neck. It was only thanks to his supernaturally heightened senses that Steve flipped over before it could sink it’s jaws into his skin, webbing slapping it’s mouth together. The demidog snarled, backing up, giving Steve time to stumble to his feet. Blood was streaming down his back and he gasped, flinging a hand to his shoulder.

The dog scratched the webbing off, looked up at him. If it had eyes, they would have been full of malice. It bent low and charged.

Steve readied himself, but at the last second, the dog jumped. It’s hand/paws/claws/things scratched at Steve’s head, shoving him to the ground, and as he hit the spongey dirt, Steve realized with mounting horror that the dog had used him as a springboard.

“NO!”

He flipped onto his back, ignoring the stinging, and shot a web at the tree. The dog was on the branch under Max, who was now shrieking and trying to kick it in the head. She didn’t have a weapon. Steve yanked himself up and slung himself into the tree, back screaming in pain.

Max was closest. She was his main focus. He wrapped a tight arm around her hip. “Hang on,” he wheezed. His back was throbbing. She clung to his neck and he leapt over the demidog, slinging to the next tree with a grunt and setting Max carefully on her feet.

A scream.

Dustin.

Steve twisted on the branch in time to see Dustin scramble back on his own part of the tree, the demidog creeping closer to him. “Dustin!” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Dustin looked up, eyes wide in fear, and Steve’s heart thudded in his throat. “Jump.”

The hesitation was barely there. In one move, Dustin rolled off the branch and fell to the ground. Steve was on the move before Dustin had even thought about falling, throwing himself into the air.

With his right hand, he shot the demidog, gluing it to the tree trunk in a snapping, snarling rage. With his left arm, he caught Dustin around the middle, pushing him to his chest as hard as he could and shooting one last, furious stream of web at the first branch he could see.

The landing wasn’t pretty, both boys stumbling and collapsing to their knees, but then Dustin was clinging to Steve, sobbing, and Steve could do nothing more than hug back and let out his own sob of relief. He ripped the mask off, panting, and pressed his hand to the back of Dustin’s head. “You’re okay?” he gasped.

He pushed back, eyes flickering over every available inch of Dustin’s face, searching for marks. “I’m okay. I’m…I’m sorry, Steve, I’m-”

Steve shook his head and hugged him again, sinking back on his heels and letting himself breathe for the first time in ten minutes. “It’s okay, Henderson. It’s okay.”

“Steve?”

Max’s voice was quiet, somewhat awed, very concerned, and Steve turned quickly, standing. He only remembered his injuries when he stumbled, his shoulders and back screeching in agony. “You’re okay?” he confirmed with the girl, shooting a glance to make sure the demidog was still stuck, writhing, in the tree. Shot it again with another burst of web for good measure.

“I’m fine,” Max confirmed, her eyes dropping to his midsection. They widened. “You’re bleeding. Bad.”

Steve huffed. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

He clapped a hand on Dustin’s shoulder, felt his knees buckle, and the world went black.

~~

When Steve couldn’t let go of his coffee mug, he thought maybe this was a dumb prank from one of the party members, screwing with him and leaving superglue on everything. When his other hand stuck to the countertop, the one he had just been using with ease, that thought faltered a little. And when his feet carried him straight up the wall in his attempt to unstick the mug, Steve fully dropped the idea of the party having anything to do with this and let out a very unmanly scream.

The mug shattered when it hit the ground, leaving Steve at an awkward angle on the wall. Gravity was pulling down on his body, but his feet were planted firmly to the plaster. He squatted to relieve the tension, eyed the wall with mounting terror.

He’d seen news reports, recently. About a vigilante/superhero all the way in New York who was spider based. They could stick to walls. They also kept quiet, were more of a speculation than an actual person, so him even being real was more a theory than fact.

But here Steve was, sticking to the wall.

“What the fuck?” he hissed at himself.

He yanked back on his right foot and yelped when it wrenched off the wall, sending him tumbling to the floor with his left foot still planted. Steve groaned and propped himself up on his elbows, tugging his left foot back with all that he had. It came loose after a moment, jarring him, and then he stood very slowly, careful to touch nothing but the floor.

What the fuck?

He looked down at his fingers, wondering if they were equally as sticky, and paused, lifting his wrists closer to his face. There was a small lump of skin on each wrist that hadn’t been there. If he hadn’t been looking too closely, he might have thought they were a mole, or maybe a zit. As he peered closer, he could see the small hole in each one.

“Nope, no, no, no,” Steve said out loud, jerking his hands down. “No. No way in hell.”

Still, he couldn’t say he wasn’t curious. Because he totally was. He looked back at his wrist, at the wall. Upstairs. His parents weren’t home, never were.

He lifted his left hand slowly and settled his finger over the lump on his right wrist. Pressed down.

A shot of spider web zipped out from it and Steve promptly shrieked, letting go of his hand and shaking his arm around to get rid of the sticky material. Lightheaded, Steve stumbled away from whatever the FUCK that was and into the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch. For a long couple of minutes, he stared blankly at the dark TV screen.

“Spiderman,” he recalled, slowly.

That was the name of the guy in New York. And if Steve, all the way in Indiana, knew about him, that meant there had to be SOME kind of information on him, on how he had become that way. Maybe on how Steve had…

His mind flashed back to the Russians, to the things they had injected him with. Maybe. But why would that affect him and not Robin? Unless it had. Or maybe it wasn’t the Russians at all. Maybe Steve was going crazy.

Oh, he was definitely going crazy, that was for fucking sure.

~~

When he walked into the library for the first time in maybe two years, the librarian looked at him like he had four heads. Maybe he did. A quick check. Nope. “Do you have a section for uh…national newspapers? Or…or state specific ones?”

Her brows furrowed but she pointed him towards a back corner, walking with him until he got to the machine that stored the papers. She walked him through how to use it, still looking baffled, and left him to it.

It took almost four hours, and he barely managed to find more than two articles.

One contained a blurry photograph. Another a slightly better one. One real article, with an even better photo, a closeup of the guy, of his symbol, of his mask. The only thing all the articles had in common? The name of the photographer, Peter Parker.

Steve jotted the information down and went back through the papers a little more thoroughly now, until he found the contact information needed. It would be a collect call, long distance, but he put away the papers and made his way to the payphone in the front hallway, jingling a couple quarters together and dropping one into the phone, looking from the keypad to the paper and back.

It rang three times, four, before a frazzled sounding voice picked up. “Peter Parker, Daily Bugle.”

Steve suddenly found that he was at a loss for words. The guy sounded young, maybe his age. What were the odds that he even knew Spiderman? Slim to none, probably.

“Hello?”

Steve shut his eyes. “Sorry, sorry. Um. You’re the guy who got pictures of uh…of Spiderman, right?”

A pause. “Yeah,” said the guy, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Though most people don’t really refer to him by that name. How can I help?”

“Do you have a way to contact him?” Steve blurted. He felt like his heart was racing. Was that normal? He was super fucking sweaty. What the fuck?

“Not really? He doesn’t really pose for the photos, I kinda just shoot them as I can. Is there anything I can help you with maybe? If you’re in trouble, you should really call the NYPD.”

Steve forced a laugh at that, thumping his forehead against the wall next to the phone. He slid another quarter in as the warning tone beeped. “Considering I’m in Indiana, that’s probably a no go.”

More silence. “Why are you calling from Indiana?”

Steve pressed his lips together. God, his throat was dry. “I just…wanted to know how it happened,” he whispered, suddenly vividly aware of the fact that he was in a public space. “I…how he became Spiderman. If…”

He trailed off and turned around, leaning his back against the cold tile wall and pressing a hand to his forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be bothering you. Thank you for your help, Mr. Parker, I really-”

“Hold on.”

Steve hesitated. In the background, he heard what sounded like a door shutting, and then the sound of clattering. A lull of silence, where Steve thought maybe he’d gotten disconnected, and the Parker spoke again. “This wouldn’t happen to be Hawkins, Indiana, would it? Where all that weird…chemical and science stuff was happening last month?”

Steve snorted. He shouldn’t be surprised that a journalist of some kind had heard of their town. “Yup, that’s the one.”

“Were you exposed to the chemicals?”

Steve dragged his hand down his face, blowing a raspberry. “Kinda? Not really? Maybe? I don’t know.”

“Are you…” another pause, again. “Are you experiencing side effects?”

Steve left his hand on his chin, wondering in the back of his mind if it would get stuck there. “Depends. Are you going to screw my life over if I say I am?”

“No,” the man said immediately. “No, no way.”

He said it with such certainty that Steve relaxed and let his hand drop to his side. “Yeah,” he whispered, and his voice cracked embarrassingly. “Yeah, I…I don’t know what happened. But I…I need to talk to him.”

There was such a long pause this time that Steve had to double check the call hadn’t dropped. “What do you need from me?” Parker asked, his tone low and warning.

Steve was about to protest, about to ask again for the vigilante, when Parker’s meaning clicked in his head. He couldn’t help but snort and sink down the wall, the cord of the payphone tugging uncomfortably at his arm. “Fuck,” he managed. “Okay. Um. What…what do I do?”

Parker huffed into the phone. “Whatever you can. Practice. Figure it out. Make sure no one knows, because-”

“Yup, yup,” Steve said, shutting his eyes and thumping his head back on the wall. “Yup, don’t worry, I’ve dealt with enough shitty labs in my life.”

A confused silence. “Am I allowed to ask?”

“It’s a long fucking story and I only have one more quarter,” Steve said, running a hand over his forehead. “I…okay. What if I…what if I decide to…to do what yo-what he does?”

“Really?” and Parker sounded surprised.

Steve’s lips twitched of their own volition. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve pretty much been doing it anyway, without the…side effects. So I might as well put them to use, right?”

He thought he could almost hear Parker smiling. “Then I think…I’d be happy to have you use my name. If you give me your address…I could send you some things that might help. Would you like my personal number? And I uh…I never got your name. But you have mine.”

Steve nodded, noting the worry in the reporters voice. “Steve Harrington,” he offered. “And if…if you’re comfortable with that…I’d really appreciate it, Mr. Parker.”

“Peter, please. And Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“It’ll be okay.”

Steve huffed, startled to find his eyes teary. He smiled. “Yeah. Somehow it always is.”

[violetwolfraven]

Hey :)

So, I know I just left a request already but the thing is that there's definitely not enough Blush in the Newsies Fandom, and therefore I wanted to ask for 10 ("Who are you?") for Blush in the canon era. Either some getting-to-know each other, or maybe (to make it more angsty) some kind of temporary amnesia thing or that maybe Blink's other eye slowly stops working? (At this point I'm just rambling, but I hope that's something to work with; I really like your writing)

Thank you! You’re right that we need more blush in this fandom, especially since like 80% of us see them as canon. I’m gonna go the kinda flangst route with this!

Sorry this took so long, but I struggled with and scrapped like 6 different ideas before coming up with something I felt good about. This takes place about a year before the strike.

Tw: referenced parent death, implied period-typical homophobia, referenced past child abuse.

...

Mush was woken up by a loud thud, like something hitting the floor.

He was very confused about what was going on until he looked down and saw Blink on the floor.

He was just sitting there, not quite upright, like he’d fallen out of bed and was too disoriented by getting woken up suddenly to move.

“Blink?”

He didn’t respond, and Mush was starting to wonder if he was really awake at all, or if he was... what, sleepwalking?

Honestly, Mush was starting to question if he was even awake. None of the others were, and that thud of Blink hitting the ground had been pretty loud.

Dream or not, he dropped down from his bunk, careful to land quietly next to his sweetheart.

It seemed like none of the others had been disturbed, which was probably a good thing. They all needed the rest. Jack and Crutchie were up sleeping on the roof like they always did in the summers and others all were still asleep.

“Blink?” Mush whispered.

He just kept staring at the ground, dazed, like he didn’t even hear him.

“Blink, are you okay?”

Blink flinched backward, instinctively raising his arms to shield his face, and Mush froze with his hand halfway between them.

Nightmare. It had to be.

What was it that Jack did when things like this happened?

Mush didn’t know, but he knew he had to do something. He did know something that might get Blink’s attention and snap him out of it. Something none of the others knew.

“Louis.”

Blink’s good eye snapped to attention, but not in a good way.

Mush felt a chill at how he wasn’t looking at him so much as through him.

“Who are you?”

His voice was haunted. Hollow, not even a hint of recognition there.

God, if this was what always happened when he had nightmares, Mush had no idea how Jack could ever calm him down.

He was going to try, anyway.

“It’s me,” Mush said, trying to keep his voice calm, “Mush Meyers. Your... your best friend. Ya don’t know me?”

Blink shook his head rapidly, curling in on himself like he was expecting a blow, “No. No. I’m sorry. No.”

That wasn’t good. Blink never apologized. If he was sorry for something, he let you know in more tangible ways. Actions over words.

Much needed to ground him. Now. He didn’t really know how, but... if Blink didn’t remember him, he guessed he should..?

“Do ya remember when you and me first met?” he asked, “We was 9 years old. My mom and pop had just died. I was friends with Jack, Crutchie, and Specs already, so they’d told me I could come here if anythin’ ever happened. I saw ya for the first time sitting out on the fire escape when Specs was introducin’ me to everybody. He told me not to bother ya, so we didn’t talk for a while.”

Mush paused, watching Blink’s face carefully for any sign of recognition.

He was still just staring into space, but he looked more confused than blank now, so Mush kept going.

“Everybody was upset cause Jack was in the Refuge for the first time and we was all worried, but it hit you hard cause you were alone. The others were all grouped up to support each other, but they was all avoidin’ you cause ya scared ‘em. You get defensive when you’re scared, so’s nobody can hurt ya.”

Still no real recognition, but Blink was at least looking more responsive to what he was saying.

“I offered to be your sellin’ partner after a couple days, cause I didn’t see what everybody was so scared of,” Mush recalled, “Not till you a gave me this look like you were gonna gut me in an alleyway. But I sold with ya anyway, and I kept sellin’ with ya even after Jack broke out and everythin’ got normal ‘round here. Best choice I ever made, to stick it out with you.”

Blink smiled distantly, barely, but it was there.

“Yeah, Blink, I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I hadn’t met you,” he continued, “I definitely wouldn’t know how to read people as well as I do. Remember when we were 12 and the Delanceys jumped me behind Jacobi’s? You seemed so angry while you patched me up, but I knew it was just cause you was worried.”

He was relaxing a little bit, his body language no longer wracked with fear.

Mush risked a glance around the room, just making sure that all the others were still asleep.

“You wouldn’t tell me I was your best friend until we were 11,” he said quietly, “Too damn stubborn. Ya don’t bury all your feelings like some people, but ya also never say it if you’re scared or sad or care about someone.”

Making sure it was clear what he was doing beforehand, Mush scooted a little closer to whisper to him.

“That’s why it was such a surprise when ya told me you had feelings for me last month. Asked to be a thing. You said—“

“You’re the only one what sees the good in everyone,” Blink mumbled, cutting him off, “Even people who hide it on purpose.”

He met Mush’s eyes, and it was obvious that Blink was now a lot more present in there.

“I’d be a fool to let that slip away.”

Mush hesitated, then held out an arm, knowing Blink wouldn’t take that offer if he wasn’t ready to be touched.

To his surprise, Blink went to him without hesitation, the tension leaving his body in one breath as he tucked his head against Mush’s shoulder and let himself be hugged.

He was covered in sweat, and Mush could practically feel the exhaustion radiating off him. Whatever that had been, whatever nightmare had triggered it, had clearly taken a lot out of him.

“Did I scare ya?” Blink asked quietly, after a minute of just sitting there on the floor in silence.

“No. Worried me a bit, though.”

He wasn’t lying. Mush had never been afraid of Blink. He’d been able to see why others were, with that fierce, cynical air he put up in self defense, but Mush didn’t really fear anyone, honestly, since he’d gotten good at understanding people. If you understood why someone was doing what they were doing, you didn’t have to fear even the people you hated or were angry with.

Blink, specifically, had never scared him because he’d been able to tell from pretty close to the beginning that Blink didn’t want to hurt anyone. He just acted like he did so that he wouldn’t get hurt himself.

He’d wondered why before. This was making him wonder again, but he wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask.

A part of him was scared of the answer, remembering how Blink had flinched when he tried to touch him before. He hoped he was wrong.

Blink seemed to guess where his thoughts were going and he sighed bitterly, moving up onto the bed and pulling Mush up with him.

“The nightmares are a nice little souvenir from Mom and Dad,” he admitted softly, “They’re... I don’t have them so much as I used to anymore, but... how did ya think I lost my eye?”

So Mush was right. He hated that he was, but... well, he couldn’t say he’d never guessed this before.

“That’s why ya got so weird whenever I brought up missin’ my folks way back when. You didn’t get it cause you didn’t miss yours.”

Blink nodded, “I ran away when I was 7. Wound up here. My folks came lookin’ for me a couple times, but Manhattan’s leader at the time turned ‘em away at the door. Good thing. I’d probably be dead if he’d let them take me.”

Mush didn’t want to think about a world where that happened, “Jack wouldn’ta let him.”

He smiled, “Probably not.”

That smile faded a little too quickly, but Mush didn’t know what to say to fix it.

He could barely see Blink in what moonlight was coming in through the window, but he reached over to push his hair off his face anyway, careful to come at him from the side with his working eye.

Blink leaned his face into the touch with a deep breath.

“Wish I hadn’t wasted so much time back then, assumin’ everyone was out to hurt me. I’da become friends with you a lot faster if I hadn’t.”

“I did think you was a bit of a dick when we first met,” Mush admitted, “But hey, whatever ya have to do to feel safe.”

Blink shrugged, “Well, you feel safest when you’re surrounded by people ya trust and it works out alright for you.”

Usually it did. Mush always tried to be as kind as he could afford to be, and that meant he had friends everywhere.

Blink had a tendency, almost an instinct, even today at age 15 to make people want to avoid him.

It was kind of funny how the few friends they’d told about their relationship hadn’t been surprised at all, despite how different they were. Sun and moon. Practically direct opposites.

“I’d rather you act like an asshole than end up dead. You mean a lot to me, Blink.”

“You mean a lot to me, too, Mush.”

Mush took the awkward silence that followed that as a signal to give him one last smile and climb up to his bunk, but Blink grabbed his wrist at the last second to stop him.

“Stay down here?”

He didn’t have to answer out loud for them to curl up together, cuddling on that bottom bunk.

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Summary: Javi hasn't called...again, Isa tries to distract herself making a new friend, but she doesn't know that her intentions are far from innocent and are tied to Javi crossing paths again with someone from his past.

Warning: cursing, mention of violence, threats, anxiety, kidnapping. Very hateful characters from the show 👀

A/N: I'M SO SORRY THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN POSTED ALMOST A MONTH AGO. I will try to finish this before this month ends. I think I could wrap this in one chapter more and an epilogue probably.

Just a small warning. This is a work of fiction and the intention is merely to develop a little bit more of a character I adore, Javi Peña. There's mention of the drug cartel, the violence they inflected in Latinoamérica (and as a Latina it hurts me very deeply, believe me) and the political involvement of different governments and agencies but this is not a political statement or trying to do other thing than entertain.

Chapter VII: Smart Choices

Isabel had never been a very popular girl, always the shy one in high school and she made a very small group of friends in college. But as everything in her life, there was a before and after since her life changed and she had Elvira.

She could not go to the club with her friends, their conversations about their new graduate’s struggles hurt her since she had to drop out, their heartbreaks and adventures had nothing to do with her life surrounded by diapers, feeding bottles and sleepless nights and so one day the phone stopped ringing, their friendship was limited to birthday parties and Christmas postcards while she became a mum and a wife. And thus making her world a very small universe with her child at the center and Javi and her turning around her.

So when that lady at the supermarket, Judy, called her she didn’t think anything weird out of it. Instead she was happy, excited to have another struggling mum that needed some comforting from somebody that understands her as much as she did.

“I’m sorry I took the liberty to ask for your phone number, I have a friend that goes to your mum’s salon and I ask her for it” she had said the first time she called.

Judy is a funny and very quick and intelligent woman. When they got their first coffee together, Isa barely asks any question, Judy fills the conversations so Isabel never has the chance to ask when she is meeting her kid or who gave her her phone number since she knows every client of her mother’s salon by heart and nobody mentioned her ever. But Judy keeps the conversation flowing, sharing her tragic story about leaving Colombia out of a very tough situation with a guy and creating a new life for her and her kid in the USA.

“It must have been so tough” Isa pounders

“Colombia back then was a bloodbath, you had to navigate the streets in survival mode, always looking behind your back and praying to come back home safe” Judy explains

“My husband worked in Colombia for a few years”

“Oh really? When?”

“80’s early 90’s"

“Well, he must have known. So sad! it is a very beautiful country...”Judy’s gaze is fixed far away as if she’s remembering something

“I guess it’s difficult to talk about it, my husband never shares much”

“Mm” she hums, she opens a golden lighter and gets the flame close to the cigarette on her red lips “What did he do there?”

“He worked at the Embassy” she’s not lying but she prefers not to specify, and now that’s past, the details are not really important

“Oh! and that’s what he’s doing in Mexico now?” she asks exhaling a white cloud of smoke making a perfect o with her lips

“Not exactly”

“He must be careful; I heard things are following the same path we suffered back in Colombia”

“Yes...he’s...smart, I’m sure he will be fine” Isa answers more to convince herself than her new friend

“I saw in the news the other day how a few civilians died during a clash between two fronting cartels and then the police. Very, very horrible images" she smacks her lips

"I haven't watched the news…" the knot in Isa's stomach grows tighter, Javi haven't called back even if he promised he would

"They kill anyone that is on their way, civilians, gringos too, DEA agents…" the Colombian woman casually brings the coffee cup to her lips when Isa frowns at her

"What did you say?" She asks

"They kill civilians?" Judy smiles uncomfortably the corner of her lips stretching up

"No, the last part"

"Gringos...DEA agents" she repeats

"Why did you say that?" The knot gets tighter restringing her throat and her question is just a whisper

"I… assume Javier must be…"

"I haven't told you what he does"

Judy gasps and bats her long black lashes a few times before changing her face to a complete cold expression, her glossy lips now a tight red line

"Look, Isabel, I think you are a very smart woman…" she starts

"I'm leaving"

Isabel pushes her chair back to go but the other woman's hand holds her to the table, her perfect manicure claws making her stay

"Sit, don't do anything stupid" Judy spats, the brief confrontation has alerted the waiters and they look at them intently until Judy gives them a very warm apologetic smile

"Who are you? What do you want?" Isabel tries to hold herself but her instincts is crying for her tu run, to get her baby back and look for Javier

But Javi could be anywhere

"You know your husband and I met, many years ago" she continues smoking "we worked closely in the hunt of Escobar" she smirks "I admit I was surprised to find him married and with a kid. He used to be involved with a very different type of woman"

"What do you want from Javi? If you hurt him I swear…" Isa mutters

"You must have been really special. A magical pussy" she laughs "or are you that dumb and naive that he lied to you and believed it" she crosses her arms over her chest, looking with a smug face from the white cloud of smoke "do you know what he did in Colombia? Do you know what he's capable of?"

"Where is he? If you touch him I swear to God I kill you" Isa tries to contain the tears, to seem strong but fails which makes Judy smile wider

"Oh! So you are an idiot little girl. Better keep up, cielo, if you want your husband alive"

México

A constant, something that keeps on proving itself to be right: shit does follow him. He tries the breathing techniques that the doctor showed him but the bag on his head stinks like rotten meat and the heat inside the van is unbearable. He finds a little solace feeling Steve's tigh pressed against his. Both of them rocking back and forth with each bump on the road

"Connie is going to kill me" his friend says

" If they don't kill us first"

"Callense cabrones" one shouts and Javi hears the muttering insult Steve pronounces before receiving one hit himself

He feels the vomit running up his throat, the smell, the heat and the fear have mixed themselves on his stomach and he can no longer calm himself down. He’s about to die, he knows it. About time, my friend, I elude death for so long in Colombia, so many close calls and now I’m about to die in some unknown part of Mexico because of a fucking middle age crisis I couldn’t handle.

He tries so hard to close his lips and swallow, breath, Peña, breath. The only cold thing in this van is the thin silver chain and medallion he wears around his neck.

This would be a marvellous moment to do some magic, old man Javi says to himself and that old saint around his neck. What did Isa call the old man engraved in it? Saint Jude. Okay, Jude, show yourself, please. This is actually a lost cause, it’s your field of expertise, c’mon

“Andando” the sicario pushes him out of the van before he can even process they have stopped the vehicle. The man grabs him by the arm harshly and guides him forward, the sun pierces the black bag over his head but he can’t only perceive the light and the sound of the gravel under his boots.

Suddenly the light changes to a white light and he feels the temperature lowering: a house with air conditioner and there’s a soft murmur of water but otherwise the house is silent. Javi memorizes those tiny details, it’s the only thing that could eventually help him if they’re held hostage and not killed right away.

The sicario pushes him and for a few milliseconds Javier thinks he’s about to fall hard to the ground but ends up on a chair. Then they pull both his arms to the back without any care and handcuffs him there.

Javi jumps from his seat when he hears the loud thump of the door closing, still in the dark and without any sign of company, he calls:

“Steve…”

Nothing

“Your friend is in the other room”

He could recognize that fucking voice anywhere, is engravated in his brain, in that part of his head that is capable of the worst, that tiny espace where he keeps every hateful and the worst people he has met, Bill Stechner being the number one on that list.

“I was so happy thinking you were dead and crawling back to hell” Javi sighs before he’s hit by the clarity in the room. He blinks fast until his eyes are adjusted to it again. It’s a nice room, wide and scattered by a few pieces of furniture covered by white sheets, the dust in the air makes evident it has been closed for a long time.

“So was I thinking you were rotting old in your father’s little ranch but here we are”

His beard is greyer and the already receding hairline is back a few inches, but he looks exactly the same, tha smug stupid face is looking at him from above. That smirk of “I’m always five steps ahead from you” the same he had when he made him leave the Embassy before catching Escobar and the same he had when he tried to take down Cali. But now he’s here in Mexico, what the fuck is he doing here?

“And, do tell, please, why the fuck do are path cross again?” Javier spats

“Oh! I didn’t want to cross paths with you. I must admit I found it funny when I saw who was managing the account for our textile export, but you, being the noisy stupid man that you are “ Stechner approaches him, his smirk freezes in a tight line “had to call your friends. And you see, you’re mending on my business again”

“So you switched from the CIA to the Narcos?”

“Javier, javier…” he sighs “You are always focusing in the wrong things and not in the bigger picture”

“The bigger picture being…” Javier rolls his eyes at him

“You wouldn’t understand, I tried a few times in Colombia and you ended up fucking it all up” he shakes his head

“So what do you want from me now?”

“Well now that you are here fucking everything up again I’d prefer if the repercussions go to the right direction”

“Which is it not yours, I guess, or whomever you’re working for”

“Yeah” he laughs and points at him “you’re smart when you want”

“And wouldn’t it be better to kill us right away?”

“Oh, you see, my associetes want to do it” Stechner nods “The really don’t give a fuck. But I told them that you could be of service”

“You’re really delusional if you think…”

Stechner interrupts him “And if you weren’t willing to cooperate we could always resort to the good old ways” the man walks to a nearby table, over the white sheet there’s a manila folder. Bill opens it slowly, that stupid smirk back at again on his face, relishing on the desperation and fear in Javi’s eyes.

Please, not Isa, please not my child

“Your wife made a new friend, it’s a small world after all, isn’t it?” Stechner shows him a picture, he recognises the cafe, Isa is seated talking to another woman he hasn’t seen in years.

“Judy is very nice when she wants” he takes out another picture, this time Isa is on the backyard playing with Elvi “You have a very beautiful family”

“If you touch them, motherfucker” Javi tries to get out of the chair, he doesn’t even care if the metal from the cuff cuts his wrists. He just want to do what he has wanted to do since he started working in Colombia and crossed paths with the CIA

“They won’t, it is entirely upon you that this is just a simple anecdote. I promised I’ll try to control them...if you do what you have to do” Stechner shrugs and throws the pictures to the floor where they rest in front of Javi’s feet

“What do you want?” he murmurs, his gaze is fixed on those images trying to see something, when were they taken? how does he know if they already hurt them?

Please, please he begs and his vision is starting to blurry

“Well, my associates will appreciate it if the DEA will center its efforts on our common enemy. You see it right? it’s the same story all over again; the enemy of my enemy is my friend…”

“I’m not DEA anymore”

“Are you? I mean you’re here with your dear Steve in an ongoing investigation that mainly relies on your testimony so…”

Stechner roams around Javier’s chair “It’s not like you haven’t done it before, Javi, think about it as if you are involving yourself with the lesser evil, there will be a time to capture my associates, but not now”

“Just go back home and when the time comes you can assure the DEA that those terrible horrible people that are getting that poison in our beautiful country are involved with our common enemy. What is the difference between one Cartel and the other? It just a matter of time they both get caught” he continues

“Why are you involved in this?”

“We’ve done this many times, Peña, let it go. It’s better this way or do you want to end up like Kiki? or better yet, your beautiful wife or your kid?” Bill points to the pictures of the Peña’s family “think about it”

And he thinks about it, the hate and the fear burning in his chest. So many years protecting himself in covers of solitude, brief encounters to relieve the stress and alcohol, protecting his heart from this fear and pain of getting his family killed for his job.

You did this to them, you looked for it. Now what?

Isa (Laredo)

She drives fast, fast as she has never driven before. She has always been a very responsible person and even more when she became a mother. Elvira is seated on the back, her little hands holding the seat hard and she has called her a few times, her voice shaky and scared.

“Mami, where are we going?”

“To Grandpa’s, honey”

“You’re too fast”

“I know, but we need to get there now”

The screeching sound of the tires stopping abruptly on the road has alerted Chucho who now waits with the porch lights on when they get out of the car.

“Mija, what’s wrong?” he screams

“I think Javi is in the danger”