#(i like that she listens and tries to engage by asking questions when hel is with the millipede. like it's obvious she doesn't care

[dreamedfyre-a]

hel loves jae.haerys sm her little boy her precious prince but she loves jae.haera sm her little girl her little princess so cherished and treasured and the one who's most like her and the one she gets to keep the closest the only girl the one who will have so little say on her life but for who hel would fight fiercely if it meant giving her a chance to choose and mae.lor is the babiest her little princeling the one she got to enjoy the most the light of her life the second son destined to receive less than his brother.

she loves them all so much and she loves jae.haerys so much but she would make such an effort for jae.haera and mae.lor to grow up knowing they are no less important than the firstborn son, that they are loved and cherished and enough

[tysonrunningfox]

Open Flames: Part 18

Alternate name for this chapter: The time Eret III invented Nuclear Deterrent (and Fuse Helped) 

Ao3 (the masterpost is horribly behind...I should deal with that...but it’s all organized on Ao3 so I might...not)

00000

I would never say this in front of Fuse, but I’ve been blown up before.

A few times, really.  Some of them because I hadn’t learned to duck and cover quickly enough, some because after the volcano, grenades and mining charges didn’t feel like they mattered much.  Between those exposures and riding Bang for most of my life, maybe I’m acclimated to explosions and the waves of pressure that come with them.

Or, maybe, as big and hardy as everyone in Dad’s village is, they’re weak in the face of a concussive blast.

I’m the first one on my feet after the jail walls fall down, spitting metallic dust from the ancient gate out of my mouth and staggering towards the pile of clothes that I hid the sword under.  It takes a couple of tries, my feet not quite listening, my shoulder throbbing from its impromptu use as a battering ram.

Arvid groans, dabbing at the blood dripping out of his nose, too red in my slightly blurring vision.

“Get up,” I try to hiss at him, but it comes out half-shout, ears ringing when my throat rasps.  “Before they do.”

“Thought you said those didn’t work,” he curls into the fetal position and dry heaves, and someone under the rubble that used to be the wall around the door shifts, a crumbled brick falling to the side.

“I thought they didn’t.”  I get the sword, arms aching from the weight as it seemingly drags me in a tight circle, foot catching on the something and nearly tripping me.

But I’m up.  I’m the only one up.

“Idiot,” Arvid wheezes.

I look around for Bang and see Wingspark slumped by the nearest edge of the forest, shaking her head slowly, cocking it off kilter when she dares to open wide, disoriented eyes.

My nose must be bleeding too because the metallic taste in my mouth gets worse as I raise the sword into a trembling defensive position.

Berk wedding traditions couldn’t include axes, could they?  That would be way too convenient.

“There!”  Someone shouts and I spin, forcing my eyes to focus on the cohort of half a dozen men running at us over the nearest hill.  The one in front is big, holding a spear back and aiming in what I think is my direction and it’s sheer luck when the spearhead hits the flat of the sword instead of my arm, chipping off a piece of generations old rust and sending a tremor up through my sore shoulder.

“Get up, there’s more of them.”  I hiss, planting my feet in the rubble and fixing my grip tighter around the sword.  “Lots more.”

“What are they going to do, put you in jail?”  He rolls almost reluctantly to his knees and I’d tell him that he’s never been less intimidating, except I’m thinking of Fuse and my promise and how impossible it is to keep as the band of men starts running at us in earnest, shouting names and curses and threats.

“Since that’s off the table, I guess I’m going to have to go with plan B.”

“What’s plan B?”  Arvid staggers to his feet, wiping his nose on his sleeve, black eye green around the edges, and I realize, with a terrifying jolt, that I’m the only even moderately intimidating one right now.

“Make them think the fight’s not worth it.”  I decide all at once, forcing my expression serious.

“You’re going to bluff?”

“Hardly,” I grit my teeth, “I’m going to tell the whole truth.”

Because even though Fuse isn’t here, her bombs were.  Even though she can’t back me up, her legacy can.  No one would have to look too far to corroborate my story.

I wait until the cohort is in ear shot and swallow hard, trying not to think about how bad a spear would hurt piercing my chest as I lower the sword, one hand held towards them in a gesture asking them to stop.  I’m trying for casual, even as Arvid stares at me incredulous, hand shaking, smooth tongue stuck limp in his mouth as I essentially hand us over to the enemy.

Except they aren’t an enemy.

I let them look like Dad, let myself see the origin of his features in their faces.  Ingrid’s eyes.  Rolf’s scowl.

“Hey,” I call out when they don’t stop immediately and a couple of men at the back falter.  I raise my hand to my mouth and let out the most piercing whistle I can, wishing Ingrid were here to do the honors, but I’m still glad when it’s enough and the man at the front stops, obviously confused.  “If we can just pause the charge for a second, that’d be great.  Thanks.”

I wipe the dust from my hand on my pants and it comes away dustier.

Arvid stares at me in a way that makes me sure if he were holding the sword, he would have knocked my dumb ass out by now in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“Thanks,” I repeat, twirling the sword in my grip just for something to do as I take advantage of the silence, “I know we got off on the wrong foot here—”

“You were desecrating our ancestral burial ground!”  The man just to the right of the leader yells and I weigh the accusation.

“Not exactly, actually.”

“You were in Eret’s grave—”

“Oh good, I did get the runes right,” I laugh, and it doesn’t so much ease the tension as it confuses everyone so much they don’t know how to respond, “Eret III, future chief of Berk.”  I switch the sword to my left hand and hold out my right, even risking a step forward towards the shocked group.

None of them move.

Arvid snaps his fingers, summoning Wingspark closer, but it doesn’t work.  I still don’t know where Bang is, and when I find him, we’re going to have a long talk about his rescue etiquette.

“Ok,” I take my hand back, switching the sword back to it and twirling it a couple of easy times where it hangs down by my ankles.  It’s not intimidating like an axe, but maybe that’s a good thing.  “Where do I start?  Ok, well, you might be wondering what happened to your jail cell.  And while I could claim that it just spontaneously crumbled because of bad upkeep, I’m going to stick with the truth here—”

“Your dragon, that blue blasted beast—”

“Don’t, alliteration goes to his head,” I ignore Arvid’s glare, “and it’s not quite true, he had help.”  I think of Fuse and the walls I’ve seen fall, the craters I’ve seen gouge themselves into hard rock.  “I’m engaged.”

“What he means is—”  Arvid tries to cut me off and I give him my most chiefly look, the one that makes him puff up even as he stands down.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about Berk, and I know that stories about us get warped and blown out of proportion the futher away they’re told,” I lower my voice, hoping that nasal can be deadly in the right circumstances, “but I’m not exaggerating when I say that your jail cell was just obliterated by the smallest arms in my future wife’s arsenal.”

“Is that a threat?”  The man in front bristles, reaching for the spear of the follower at his left and I take a step back to retrieve the spear that barely missed me a moment ago and toss it to him.

If I somehow talk my way out of this, Arvid is going to kill me and enjoy it.

“It’s a warning,” I wave vaguely to the south, “either I tell you now, before you’re stupid enough to kill me, or you learn the next time you near the archipelago to trade.”  I watch the leader contemplate his spear and shrug, sword waving carelessly through the air, “you might hear the rumors before she strikes, I don’t know, it all depends on how long it takes for word to get back to Berk, and with my dragon probably on his way there now, without me, it won’t be more than a couple of days.”

“Strikes?”  The question is a whisper among the men, their eyes flicking between me and the pile of rubble just starting to move with their men regaining consciousness from the blast.

“I’m sure you’ve heard rumors,” I grin, “the dragon island blown entirely off of the map, whole dragon trapper posts gone up in flame and rubble.”  I shrug, “not rumors.”

They look at the building.  Arvid looks at me and Wingspark, and the single dull sword that we have between us against at least a dozen men.

“I’m a nice guy,” I promise, left hand held up in simulated surrender, “really, my dad’s from here, I appreciate your history so much I just wanted to borrow a little piece of it and maybe I could have been a little more upfront about it.  I wish I had, given how many of your lives that would have saved.”

I feel it now, in their eyes on me, that chiefly aura that I’ve always struggled towards.  The feeling that when they look at me, I’m more than just myself, I’m larger, scarier, impossible in a way that makes people wish they were behind me instead of against me.

“The way I see it, if I’m going to keep my conscience clear here, I’ve got two options.”  I number them off against the rusty sword, “one, I consider you warned.  If you kill me right now, there will be more than Hel to pay.  Your entire village reduced to a pile of rubble so thorough that those graves will be all that’s left and even then, only the ones buried deep.”  I swallow, hoping I’ve laid a big enough foundation to bluff on even as I assess the group.

The guy in the front is biggest, but looks slow, and aside from his spear I only see a short dagger.  There’s a smaller man in the back row with a heavy iron axe in his hands, and if I could just get to him, I’d have a chance at some of them, maybe enough for Arvid to get to Wingspark.  With a little fire on our side, the odds are better, and I plant my heels to spring in case this next line doesn’t work out for me.

“Or, I kill all of you now before you can hurt me, because trust me, even a scratch, even a bruise won’t make her happy.  That’s the only way I can think of to save your families, your history.”  I gesture with the sword, “our history, really.”

The pause drags on, too long, rubble shifting and crumbling as men underneath it try to sit up.  The new cohort’s eyes drift repeatedly to the pile, obviously wanting to help their brethren and I watch them weigh the utility of the next few minutes.

“Aw Hel,” the man to the leader’s left swears, “let him go, he’s fucking crazy.”

“That explosion knocked down a shelf at my house a half mile away,” another man mutters, “he said it was small arms—”

“He stole from us,” the leader insists and I gesture with the sword again.

“Oh, come on, you guys weren’t using it.”  I adjust my grip, preparing again to charge if necessary, “and it has my name on it.”

“The other graves are untouched,” someone else argues in a tense whisper, “what if he’s telling the truth?  He said his name was Eret—”

“He’s a thief, he’s probably a liar too—”

“Trust me, if I was going to lie about my name, I would have started years ago.”  I laugh, even as Arvid takes a calculated step back towards where Wing is inching forwards.  She’s close now, maybe a run for it would be better.

“Let him take the damn sword,” the man to the leader’s right booms, “if there’s even a grain of truth in what he’s saying it’s not worth it.  No one liked Eret that much anyway!”

“I heard that Bronn!”  A shout from the sky takes everyone else’s concentration away from the stand off and the bubble of relief in my chest swells to near bursting when Skullcrusher lands on the other side of the crowd, Dad sitting on his shoulders.

Stormfly lands next to him, followed by a panicked Bang who immediately charges me, cool claws on my shoulders as he knocks me back into the dirt and starts frantically licking my face.

“Bud!”  I yelp, squirming away from the piece of what used to be a prison wall digging in to my lower back, “missed you too!  Missed you too!”

“Is that Eret son of Eret?”  The question is bouncing around the group of men when I finally get back to my feet, holstering the sword clumsily in my axe’s place against my back.

“Hi Dad,” I call out, driving in the point as I swing onto Bang, relief flooding through me when his wings twitch to the sides, preparing for takeoff.

“Go on ahead, son,” Dad says pointedly, waving me away, “I’ll catch up.”

“I don’t think I was done talking to them,” I shrug and the man dad recognized, Bronn apparently, looks between us with wide eyes.

“I think they’re done talking to you,” Dad laughs, “I’ll smooth things over.”

I want to stay but the half-relieved, half-furious, all guilt-inducing look that Mom gives me convinces me otherwise.  As I take off, I hear the first few questions echoing on the breeze, all concerning the validity of my claims that if they’d touched me, they all would have found themselves blown sky high in less than a week.

Dad’s laugh answers them for me.

Flying does little to blow the stink and dust off of my clothes, but my mind is far clearer by the time Mom guides Arvid and I down to a small camp maybe fifteen minutes outside the outskirts of the village.

“What the Hel were you thinking?”  She asks as soon as we’ve landed, launching herself off of Stormfly and flinging her arms around me in a hug so tight it might as well be a chokehold, given I’m not quite off of Bang yet.

“Mom,” I wheeze and she yanks me off of my dragon and to my feet, bracing her hands on my shoulders to analyze my face.

“Flying off like that when Fuse is seven months pregnant,” she starts listing the compilation of my crimes, but all I can hear is Fuse and pregnant and the fear settles back into that collar around my heart, “getting arrested in a village you’ve never been to—”

“Is Fuse ok?”

“As of a day and a half ago,” she softens slightly at something in my expression, probably the raw desperation flooding across everything I’ve kept together for the past…however long I was in that cell, “everyone’s watching her, I’m sure she’s fine.  Unmarried, but otherwise fine.”

“As soon as I get back,” I pull the rusty sword from my back and hold it out for her to examine, “I’m ready, I just needed—”

“Something of your dad’s,” she sighs, “something from where he’s from.  I know.”  She smiles, a little crooked, younger looking than usual with her hair windblown and her panic receding from an otherwise open expression, “and before you ask, no one told me, I guessed.  I’m sorry it took me so long to guess.  If I’d been more on top of it, maybe we would have caught you before you were about to fight off an army—”

“An army?”  I shrug, “half a company, maybe.  Hardly even a small militia—”

“Eret.”  She squishes my cheeks, dirty beard itching against my face.

“I was talking my way out of it,” the words come out slightly muffled and Arvid steps up beside me, and I feel guilty for forgetting him in the rush of the reunion.

“By telling them how his future wife would blow them up if they touched a hair on his pretty head.”

“Delegating,” I clarify as Mom lets me go.  “And can you please stop with the pretty?”

He doesn’t hear because Mom is hugging him, chin over his shoulder, which is too bad because she misses his shocked expression, eyes wide on my face like he’s looking for help.

“And you, I expected better of you,” she jabs him in the chest with a finger when she pulls away, “going along with a plan like this.  And what happened to your eye?”  She pokes at the green bruise and wipes the still trickling red under his nose with her sleeve.  “Who did this to you?”

She looks accusingly at me and I raise my hands, gesturing at the dried blood on my own lip, even though it’s probably far less obvious caked in my red moustache.

“The nose was the explosion.”  I nod, “which was an accident, the bombs had been soaked a bunch of times, it was Bang trying to blast us out that set them off—”

“Did you ice this?”  She’s back fussing over Arvid who blushes, hands in his pockets.

“I was a prisoner, Mom, no one was really offering medical care.”

“If we’d been an hour later…” she looks between us, shaking her head, and we both hug her at the same time, Arvid lifting her a couple lopsided inches in the air.

“We’re fine,” I insist, “a little deafened, maybe, but the ringing in my ears is already fading.”

“Speak for yourself,” Arvid grumbles, stepping out of the hug to twist his pinky in his ear, wincing.

“You’ve got to get home,” Mom tells me in particular, earnest instead of chastising and that makes it worse.

“I know,” I nod, “I didn’t think that’d take more than a week, but—”

“You should take Stormfly,” she pats her leg to call the Nadder over, “she’s faster.  I’ll wait for your dad and fly back on Bang.”

Bang protests weakly, nudging my leg with his wing and looking up at me with big, pathetic, watery eyes.

“I’ve got to get home too,” Arvid perks up, a little frantic for the first time since the explosion, rolling his shoulder like he’s just now remembering why he pulverized it.  “Aurelia—”

“Wing can keep up with Stormfly, can’t she?”  Mom asks and Arvid seems to center himself on the words before nodding.

“I think so.”

“We took a roundabout way to get up here to avoid trouble,” I say a bit sheepishly, “not that it mattered, but by any chance, did you guys come direct?”

“We took as straight of a shot as we could,” Mom nods, “no trouble to be seen, seems like you guys had it all corralled.”

“I do my best,” I nod, faking somber as the weight of the sword against my back starts to mount, the pull towards home and Fuse overwhelming the desire to stay here and dwell.

“Straight home,” Mom points at me and I nod.  “I mean it, if we get there before you—”

“Hel to pay, I get it.”  I swing up onto Stormfly and she fidgets as I adjust my seat to her comparatively narrow shoulders.  “I’m shocked you’re even trusting me after well,” I point at the sword and she sighs, a little sheepish in a way I’ve never seen directed at me.

Maybe at Dad, once or twice, when one of us broke something and she decided not to punish us for it.  Never at the chief.

“I’ve got to start sometime.”

“You do?”  I raise an eyebrow, trying to ignore Arvid’s impatient expression as Wingspark paces in a small circle, ready to take off.

“You’re going to be chief,” she reminds me, and it makes my negotiation of sorts at the blown jail cell feel silly and more official all at once, “and you can’t do that with your mother questioning your every move, can you?”

“Oh,” I frown, “I guess I’d assumed that was part of the program.”

“Go,” she pats Stormfly’s haunch, “you being this far from an unmarried Fuse right now is giving me gray hairs.”

“Fine,” I nudge Stormfly forward, ignoring Bang’s pathetic croon to the best of my ability, “see you at home.”

“We going?”  Arvid half checks then takes off before I get an answer, flying due south through a cloud bank, pressed low to Wingspark’s neck.

We don’t talk much.  There’s none of that adventurous feeling that carried us North on the way here, this feels far more like drudgery.  It reminds me too much of my sleepless flights between Berk and Elva’s island and I’m glad to be on Stormfly, the different seated position keeping me focused on what’s ahead instead of reliving what’s behind.

We take a single, brief stop just before sundown to feed the dragons and Arvid helps me pull the long-healed stitches out of my forearm and wrap it in a length of cloth I rip from one of Dad’s old borrowed shirts that is still layered over my own.

There’s no talk of stopping for the night and we get back into the sky, hugging the coastline for the next part of the journey so that the dragons can glide on the updraft generated by the miles of shear cliffs, preserving some of their energy towards faster flight.   The night’s colder than it was even a week ago, winter setting in with a vengeance as a few flakes start to fall on the straight just north of Berk, and I let myself have a moment’s hope for a small feast.

Or no feast.  I don’t care.

That in and of itself is refreshing, the general lack of reluctance.  After years of digging in my heels while people dragged me places that didn’t feel right, walking apathetically forward of my own volition is freeing.  Or not apathetically, that’s not right.  I can hardly think of waking up in a house with Fuse, a house that’s ours, because it feels so impossible in all of the best ways, but I can imagine the wedding.

It’s going to be…well, a wedding.

The chief is probably going to make a big, annoying deal of the ceremonial bath.  I’ll have to wear whatever my mom says and sign the contract and throw the sword on my back into a rafter.  I’ll have to fend off the well-wishers but then I’ll get to go home with Fuse and have some new claim on her and those babies that kick my hands when I talk too much.

“I’m headed home!” Arvid shouts over the wind, gesturing towards the far point of the island and I shake my head.

“Aurelia’s probably with Fuse.”

He hovers for a second, looking down at his clothes and then looking at me with a bright tinge of panic in his eyes barely visible through the fluttering snowflakes, which are picking up speed.

“You look fine,��� I roll my eyes and he pivots Wingspark in a frustrated little circle.

“I’m covered in half a building—”

“Aurelia won’t care.”

“I…” He grits his teeth and I see the shadow of his jaw flexing from where I’m hovering on an updraft a few yards away, “I don’t know what to say to her.”

“It’s Aurelia,” I try, sighing when he doesn’t relax, “tell her I was cryptic and weird and said you needed to talk to her—”

“I don’t need you in the middle.”  He draws a line in the snow and asks me to stay on my side and I nod.  It feels like him taking a step back at his dad’s birth village, falling into a new boundary, and I respect it, nodding.  “I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

“Should I let Aurelia know?”

He shrugs, and then rethinks the gesture, “yeah.  If she’s there.”

“Alright.”  I half salute, sword on my back feeling too big and out of place as Stormfly angles to catch the next draft, snow flurrying from the cliffs below, “thanks, by the way.  For this.”  I shrug under the weight of the sword.

“Yeah,”  Arvid smiles, handsome again, huge again, the black eye a battle scar with a story worth telling, “thanks for this.”  He pats Dad’s sword in its holster on his hip and then he’s gliding back towards his house.

I land outside the chief’s house and Stormfly instantly trots off to the barn, tucking herself into a pile of straw and shoving her beak into a bucket of fish.  I stretch, scrubbing my hand through my iced over beard and walking towards the door before opening it to a resounding chorus of Aurelia’s frustration.

“How do you keep doing that?”  She shouts, voice going shrill as she leans over the maces and talons board set up on the table.  “You aren’t even paying attention!”

“I don’t know why you didn’t just do this,” Tuffnut demonstrates some move and the vein in Aurelia’s forehead twitches.

“That’s agains the rules.”

“I thought we were playing Thorston rules,” Tuffnut looks beside him and I edge a little further into the doorway to see the back of Fuse’s head, hair glowing with the reflection of the fire.  “So Loki’s revenge is legal, why didn’t she just do that?”

“Because Thorston rules aren’t real, Tuff,” the chief reminds him like he’s said it a few dozen times today.

“Then why do we keep winning?”  Tuffnut asks.

“I don’t know!” Aurelia snaps, tossing a game piece at his head and missing entirely.  It skitters across the floor and I stop it with my boot, watching Aurelia’s jaw drop when she follows its path and sees me in the doorway.  “You’re back?”

“No, of course not,” I joke, “just passing through.”

“Eret,” Fuse jumps up so fast she knocks her chair down, whirling towards me and managing a step before I’m across the room, lifting her into a hug and burying my face in her hair.

“Hey,” I say against her neck, arms tightening reflexively around her.  

And she smells like home, usual soot replaced with campfire and warmth.  Her hair tickles my nose as she pats my shoulders, asking to be set down, which makes it easier to rest my cheek against her forehead.  I want to slip my hand under her shirt to feel her stomach, but Aurelia’s and the chief’s eyes are boring into the top of my head and I sigh and pull away, pausing to kiss her forehead and grab her hand.

Her other hand starts working up my sleeve to check my stitches and I don’t have the heart to stop her, even when the chief’s ever sharp eyes catch the motion.

“Where’s Arvid?”  Aurelia asks first, one arm absently around my chest in a side hug as she wrinkles her nose, “you’re filthy, by the way.”

“Arvid went to get cleaned up,” I roll my eyes, “should be at your place.”

“Thanks,” she hustles to grab her coat and I squeeze Fuse’s hand as I turn to face Aurelia on her way out the open door.

“Ask him about the black eye, by the way, funny story.”

“Black eye?”  She pauses for a second before shaking her head at me, “whatever.  I’ll see you later.”  She points at Tuffnut, “for a rematch.”

“Thorston rules next time,” he waggles his eyebrows but Aurelia ignores him, slamming the door shut against the blowing snow and leaving the room in awkward silence.

Or awkward for me, at least.

Fuse seems fine with the quiet, quite obviously checking me over for new injuries until I take both her hands in one of mine, giving her a look that she thankfully accepts to mean ‘later’.  Tuffnut is also fine with the silence, looking between me and his daughter with a pleasant smile that grows the more awkward I feel.

Mostly though, the chief doesn’t seem to feel awkward, which is always a bad sign.  Worse, it doesn’t feel like I’m in trouble this time, like the concept of trouble has lost some of its meaning.  It’s worse than trouble, he’s waiting for me to explain myself, and there’s the chance that if I do it well enough, he’ll accept it.

I never thought I’d miss the fatalistic comfort of no-win situations, but here I am.

I swallow hard, tugging at the collar of my dad’s borrowed coat that should be bigger before reaching over my shoulder and pulling out the rusty sword, angling it in the firelight to show the ancient, faded runes.

“I got what I went looking for,” I start, voice a rush from holding my breath and I clear my throat before continuing.  “Eret the first’s sword.”

“You were gone for almost two weeks.”

“Yeah,” I wince and Fuse squeezes my hand, encouraging at the same time as urging me to remind the room at large that she had it handled.

She doesn’t know the half of what she has handled, frankly.

“Did you anticipate being gone for two weeks?”  The chief asks me like I’m a council member and it’s hard to remember how reasonable he is as a boss when I was just wrapping my head around him as a grandfather to my future children, but this is yet another chance to prove that I can still handle things and I make myself focus, exhaling as I step forward to set the sword on the table.

Fuse doesn’t let go of my hand.

“I did not, Arvid and I took the long way, traveling at night to avoid running into anyone, so I thought it would be six or seven days at the most,” I scratch my chin and decide on the truth, again, “but it turns out that people don’t necessarily like strangers robbing their ancestral tombs.”

“Really?”  Tuffnut raises an eyebrow, “they weren’t happy about you taking this ugly old sword off their hands?”  He runs a finger along the rust where it was recently chipped by a spearhead, “honestly, this thing is horrible, how much did you pay for it?  It looks like it’s been in a grave for a hundred years.”

“Probably more like fifty,” I correct him, recognizing my own irritated expression on the chief’s face.

“You overpaid.”

“I stole it,” I assure him.

“Good old five-finger discount,” he winks at me or at Fuse, I can’t quite tell, “there’s hope for you yet, kid.”

“So, as I was saying, they weren’t happy that I stole a sword,” I steer the conversation back to the topic that might release me, “and I ended up in jail.”  When the chief doesn’t answer immediately, I keep talking, patting my stomach and gesturing to the room at large, “which, by the way, was anyone going to tell me that I don’t fit between dragon cage bars anymore?  I’ve been on the moldy bread diet for a week and it still didn’t work—”

“How’d you get out?”  The chief asks and there’s the real question, the one that the length of my absence was just hinting at.

“Fuse, actually,” I squeeze her hand and she frowns at me, glancing at my hairline like she’s searching out a bruise or some other sign of head injury, “no, not—some smoke bombs you gave me months ago that I never used—I mean, I actually soaked them about a hundred times, I don’t know how they still worked but at some point, Bang tried to blast the cell open and they flew into a wall and…boom.”  I mime the explosion with my free hand and the chief looks at me not quite doubtfully, but waiting for the rest of the story.

“And the village just let you go?”

“After some convincing, yeah,” I nod.

“What’s the body count on ‘convincing’?”  The chief finally puts the rest of the question out in the open and I relax, for once confident that I have the right answer.

“None,” I shrug, “I convinced them we weren’t worth the trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Well,” I drop Fuse’s hand to wrap my arm around her shoulders, “I might have said that what blew up their jail was the smallest in Berk’s—and my future wife in particular’s—arsenal.”

“I don’t know that,” Fuse mutters, biting her lip as she does some mental calculation, brows pulling together, “now that I think about it, saltwater curing a smoke bomb might produce…maybe with some black sand—”

“Fuse,” I break her concentration and she glares at me briefly before her expression softens and I’d say about anything to get away from our dads right now so that we can actually greet each other.

“I’ll test it out later,” she blushes, noticing the room’s attention on her and flanking down at her stomach, smoothing a warm sweater over it and shaking her head, “at some point.”

“So, instead of killing them,” the chief raises an eyebrow, “you convinced them that Fuse would kill them if they didn’t let you go?”

“It didn’t take much convincing,” I run a hand through my tangled hair and come back with a palm covered in jail dust even after a day and a half in the wind and snow, “not after the explosion.”

“A ceremonial wedding sword and a diplomatic solution,” the chief lets himself smile and I’d ask him how long he was faking a stern face to freak me out if I weren’t so relieved and impatient with the conversation, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well, it’s the day,” I shrug, unsure whether to accept the teasing as praise or push it off and ask for my next assignment.  Whether it’s my empty stomach or aching back or the fact that the dust is really starting to itch, I can’t be sure, but I’m suddenly exhausted enough to go with the first option.  “If that’s all, I think I’m going to go wash the prison off before the snow dilutes the hot springs…”

Fuse nods, cold hand slipping under the back of my shirt, and as hard as I try to keep my expression neutral with the repeated self-assurance that she’s only checking for injuries, I’m not sure that it works.  Especially because as much as I hate her worrying, I like her checking me over, all thorough attention and meticulous fingers.

And her dad is here.  And the chief is here.  And I’d throw that stupid sword into the chief’s ceiling right now if it meant house keys in my hand.

“And tomorrow is Frigg’s day,” the chief says, voice sing-song, and I blink at him.

“Ok.”

“Everyone else is on-island and you didn’t mind a small feast,” he looks between Fuse and I, “unless that’s changed…”

“What?  Oh!”  I stiffen when his meaning clicks, “tomorrow.  The wedding?  Tomorrow?”  I look at Fuse, semi-relieved when she’s startled too, wide eyes flicking between her dad and me.  “As in we go to sleep one time, wake up in the morning and get married?”

“Unless ‘tomorrow’ has changed meaning…”  The chief smiles at me, embarrassed for me and proud of me in equal parts and I don’t know why everyone is being so nice to me after I went to jail, but I’ll take it.

Especially because it feels different than pity, different than a token kind word to make up for a secret.

“Wait, like tomorrow tomorrow?”  Tuffnut jumps up and I nod.

“That’s what I just clarified.”

“It’s your last night in my house!”  He yanks Fuse away from me by her shoulders, and I wish I hadn’t set down the ceremonial sword as my own territorial instincts react.  “We have to celebrate.  Or cry.  And tell your mother—”

“The new house is just down the road,” Fuse rolls her eyes, looking pointedly at her dad and apologetically at me like she already knows it doesn’t matter and the offer to throw the sword into the ceiling still stands.

“Wait, you’ve seen the house?”  I ask, heart clenching when her otherwise irritated expression twitches into a tiny smile.

“Your mom showed me.”

“Is it—” I stop the flood of unimportant questions and try for the only one that matters.  “I mean, did you like it?”

“You’ll have plenty of time to talk about how much you love your new house once you’re done abandoning your old dad!”  Tuffnut starts dragging her towards the door and I’m unsure how real his tears are and even less sure how much I care.

“You knew this was coming—”  Fuse tries one last feeble time to shirk his arms off, and I get the feeling that as reluctant as she is, she might need this.  Especially after the last few months of distance from her dad, and I nod at her that it’s ok.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell her, even as everything in me rejects the distance, some new level of chiefly composure thinking of tomorrow and consequences instead of right now.

Or maybe it’s not chiefly composure, maybe it’s the kind of composure that might let me become chief.  The sign that I’m thinking of what I want in the future instead of what I’m running from in the present.

Or maybe that’s a load of dragon dung I’m telling myself because braving the snowstorm to the hot springs alone doesn’t sound very appealing after considering the alternative.

“At the altar,” she bites her lip, a little pale but still excited, eyes bright as the door shuts behind them with a gust of snow and the chief and I are alone.

“I’m not going to cry,” he jokes, and all I can think about is how we’re standing right where we were when I hugged him, “I’ve been looking forward to your last night in my house for years.”

“Yeah,” I snort, “finally going to be rid of me.”

“It’s just down the road,” he says, more to himself than to me and my chest feels a little tight.  “Stoick will finally stop bugging me that your room is bigger than his, I’m really excited for that—”

“I should go wash up,” I point at the door, barely biting my tongue against blurting out ‘alone’ in Midgard’s most disappointed tone, if only to break the moment.  “And get some sleep, big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he nods, “good plan, it’s going to—exhausting, weddings are exhausting.”

I make it all of two steps towards the door when he calls my name and I turn back around, impatient eyebrows raised.

“Just one more thing—”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your Mom?”  He asks, worried in the way that never meshes with my mom in my mind.  Then, before I can answer, he winces and catches himself.  “Where’s Eret?  Also.  I mean, Eret—not you, obviously, I mean…”. He swallows hard and shrugs one shoulder, embarrassed as he probably should be, “where are your parents?”

“Oh,” I point vaguely North, “Mom insisted I take Stormfly, because she’s ‘faster’ than Bang,” I roll my eyes and he laughs, “and she was sure that Fuse was going to be having unclaimed heirs any second.”  My heart stutters at that and I pinch the outside of my thigh, forcing my focus back to tomorrow and only tomorrow, “she and my dad should be on their way by now.”

“Great.”  He waves me off and I make it one more measly, shuffled step, “Eret?”

“What?”  I regret the edge in my voice and clear my throat, “sorry, what?”

“I’m proud of you,” he doesn’t sound like the chief and he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to step in as my father either, and I remember how ‘grandpa’ felt right for a second and my throat tightens, “for going after what you want and—”

“And not chopping off a bunch of heads to get it?”  I joke, but he doesn’t laugh.

“That’s one way to say it,” he waves me towards the door, “I’m done now, really.  Go do what you need to do.  Big day tomorrow.”

[hunterbahamut]

Part 1 - Part 2- Part 3

Here is Part 4 of “Unforeseen Return”. Things are starting to escalate...

--

The power continued to flicker on and off until it shut off completely and the emergency power engaging shortly after.

Tero grumbled out, rolling his eyes.  "How typical.  Can that idiot do anything right?"  In emergency situations, his medlab was one of the areas that was a priority for power, but that also meant that he would not be able to do much of his own work. He huffed and he went about backing up his work before he had to shut everything down.  "This is just irritating..."  

Tero continued to grumble as he started to hear what sounded like some kind of movement near the back of his lab.  He didn't think anything of it though; it was most likely some of his live specimens over-reacting. "I wonder how long this will last." He grumbled, not even bothering to look in the direction of the sound.  "Knowing how Phineas works, it'll be a while, though that's probably too generous."

He got off of his tail and started to check and make sure his medical equipment was working, but he paused when his ear twitched when he thought he heard something.

“ T͠e... r̸o...“

This wasn't the commotion he he heard earlier, this was almost like a quiet droning or whispering sound. He stopped and looked around, though he really wasn't sure what he was expecting to find: last time something like this happened was when some of the others had tried to pull a prank on him with a 'ghost encounter'.  This was different though, there was no way anyone could have set anything up this time.

“ Y̷o͝ú... h̶ur͘t͠ ̶m̕y͞...p̸a̷r̸t̴n̴e̶r̷...”

He paused when he picked up the words, raising a brow.  "Partner?"  He snorted, "Zech, if this is just your attempt to get back at me, you're doing a very terrible job.  Come out already, I don't have time for this." He waited in mild annoyance, but he was caught off guard when the door to his lab suddenly opened and Sparks and Phineas came rushing in.  Tero just rolled his eyes, "Can't go five minutes in the dark without hurting yourselves?"

"It's Wart!" Sparks yelled out as he tried to catch his breath.  "We almost got sucked out into space!  And I think Wart got the worst of it!"

Tero raised a brow, "Oh really?  Now how did that happen exactly?"

"Never mind the how!" Phineas snapped, "Just do your friggen' job!  Hurry!"  

The doctor just snorted, "Get him onto the medbed." He said.

Phineas and Sparks took a few steps, but they suddenly stopped in their tracks.

Tero raised a brow, "Well?"  He asked, looking at the two of them when they just suddenly stopped. "What's gotten into you two now?  If this is such an emergency, then bring him over here already."

The two looked dumbstruck, eyes wide and just staring at him, or rather something behind him.   They didn't say anything at first, their attention was drawn to what looked like some kind of ghostly light.  It took them a moment to realize that the light was connected to something, and it was right behind the doctor.

"Uuhm, what is that?"  Sparks asked, seeming to forget about the emergency for a moment.

"What are you on about?" Tero grumbled impatiently and he turned around, but he stopped when he finally caught sight of the glow, as well as the large figure behind it. "...what the-?"

Before anyone could react, Tero let out a painful yell as he was suddenly grabbed, large claws digging into his body and he pulled off his feet.  "Aaargh!  What-?!"

"Tero!" Both Sparks and Phin yelled out and the Aqualine rushed over to try and help, grabbing a hold of him as the large figure behind him tried to pull him away, the two suddenly stuck in a 'tug of war' with the polartix.

"Sparks!"  Tero yelled out, "What are you do- Aaargh!!  This isn't helping!"

"Hang on!  I got y-yoo-WHOAAA!" Sparks had to plant his feet up against the medical bed to try and gain some leverage, but the larger figure had a good hold of the doctor and refused to let go.  There was the sound of deep growling, followed along by some unhealthy crunching sounds.

"Aw hell!"  Phineas yelled and he had to drop Wart down before he raised his arm cannon up and took several shots at the figure.  The shots landed, but did little to stop it at all, in fact it sounded like it just made it angrier and it started to pull harder on Tero.

"This isn't hel-ow!-helping!" Tero yelled out, "AaAARGH!  You idiots-!  This thing is cru-uushing me-!"

"I I'm ̸gơi̷n̸g ͡to̡ ̴do m̢ore̷ th́an҉ tha͡t̷!"  The voice that responded was deep and had a tone that chilled the three of them. "You ͡d͟o͠n͜'t͢ ͞de͝s̷erve̡ t͝o̵ ̴ex̢ist!" It bared its large claws and struck down onto Tero's smaller body, tearing through fur and cybernetics, causing him to cry out in pain. "AAAARRGH!"

"Dammit, hang on!"  Phineas growled out and rushed over to help. They needed a different solution fast, and only one came to mind.  "Sparks!  Grab hold of his head!" He yelled out and reached his head over and bit down onto Tero's collar, yanking it off as fast as he could. There was a loud 'POP' sound and both Sparks and Phineas both fell backwards with the Aqualine holding onto Tero's head.

There was a loud, angry howl followed by the sound of tearing fur and wrenching metal.

Sparks hopped to his feet, clutching Tero's head. "Let's get out of here!"  He shouted and made a run for the door.   Phineas scrambled up to his own feet and rushed over to Wart's unconscious form, pulling him back up and ran out.  He slammed his tail against the door controls to close and lock the door as the angry roar echoed after them. "Y͜òu̸ ͢càn'͝t ̢g͡e̛t ̸away͜! ̡Í ҉w͏i͡l̶l ͞f́ind y͘o̵u͝ and g͘ét ͟e̕a͢ch of yo͜u!"

"What the heck?  Where did you find that thing?"  Sparks asked, huffing a bit as he looked down at Tero in his arms.

"That isn't one of mine!" Tero said, clearly bothered by the sudden turn of events.  "I would never have something so large or dangerous loose in my lab!"

"Well you did -something- to piss it off!" Phineas said, trying to keep his balance as he held onto Wart.  "And we might be in trouble when it gets out, so we need to do something!"

Sparks nodded in agreement and he tried to think.  "Maybe we should get out of here, find the others and get to the ship!"

Tero grumbled, "With my lab closed off now, we will need to use the ship's sickbay if we still want to treat Wart, and anyone else who might get injured."

"That sounds like a plan then."  Phin said, "I'll get Wart down there and get the ship ready for launch, you can probably find Nix and Zech faster."

Sparks nodded, "Right!  We'll meet you down there, let's hurry!"

Phineas hurried back down to the hanger as Sparks ran off ahead and started to look for the others.  Thankfully he didn't have to search for long as he found them both still in the lounge.

"Sparks!"  Nix said, spotting him as he came running in, surprised when she saw him holding into Tero's head.  "What the heck happened?"

"Long story!"  Sparks said, "In short, something's going on here!  Wart almost got blasted into space and something big nearly got Tero!"

"What?"  Nix was shocked.

Zech scoffed, "Was he being a huge jerk and one of his creatures finally gave him what he deserved?"

Tero twitched, "Not very nice or mature to kick someone when they're down."

"Yeah, sure does suck, doesn't it?"

"Alright, enough!"  Nix said sternly, "There's no time for this, we have an emergency!"

"Yeah, we can't stick around!"  Sparks said, "Phin's down at the ship, we're gonna meet up there and then get off so we can figure out what to do next!"

"That sounds like a good idea."  Nix said and they headed out and hurried to the Leviathan.

The reached the docking bay and rushed to this ship.  Once they were onboard, the hatches were closed and they ran up to the bridge where Phin was working at his station.

"We're all here!"  Sparks said, "Let's get going!"

"We can't."  Phineas said.  "The hanger doors won't open."

"What?" Nix looked over to him, "What's happened?"

"I don't know!"  Phin growled out, "They just won't open!  They should have the power for it, but none of the commands are being accepted!  Something blocking them!"

"Terrific."  Tero grumbled out, "So one set of doors that shouldn't open can and the ones that need to won't."

"What about a manual override or emergency release?"  Nix asked.

"I don't know if they’re gonna work."  Phineas said, "Wart's ‘cost priorities’ had them down on the 'low' end; that's one of the reasons why the emergency power was supposed to make sure they work.  And I don't think we have enough firepower to just blast our way out given the extra plating we have on those doors. Not without wrecking the entire deck."

"So we're stuck here?" Sparks asked.

"For now, yeah." Phin huffed, "At least we're safe here, for now at least.  The ship's own power and life support will hold until we figure out something."

"And that means we have an ops center!"  Sparks said, sounding awfully chipper despite the circumstances.  "Now we can plan and figure out what to do!"

"But that's the question,"  Nix said, "What do we do now?"

Tero scoffed, "Well, if you want me to treat Wart, or any of you for that matter, I need some kind of body to work with."

"One of the Peapod bodies will have to do." Phineas said, "I'd be laughing if the situation wasn't so dire."  

He grumbled, "As much as I hate to say it, but it will have to do."

Phineas nodded,  "Then we should get to Engineering, I want to check in on Sail and he should have the extras down there. Hopefully he's found something down there that'll help any of our current problems."

"So long as you're quick about it."  Tero grumbled.  "Not only do I have work, but I really don't like his disembodied feeling."

"Right!" Sparks nodded, "Then someone oughta stay here, watch over the ship and help out Tero until we get a body back."  

Zech was quiet this whole time; while he had been listening to the others, he couldn't help but shake this really weird feeling he was getting.  When he heard Sparks speak up about someone staying here, he was quick to jump up.  "I can go down with Phin!"  Despite the situation he really wasn't comfortable with the idea of being stuck with Tero, especially without a body.

"Maybe you should stay here then, Sparks."  Nix offered, "I can go with them and help out as needed.

"Awww." Sparks sounded disappointed for a moment, but he nodded. "Okay!  I'll hold down the fort!"

"Right, let's go."  Nix said, "Let's be quick, if there is something lurking on the station, then we shouldn't be gone for long."

"Especially with our comms out."  Phin nodded in agreement and he headed to the exit. "Right, sit tight you guys."

"Not much else we can do."  Tero replied, grumbling loudly before he looked to Sparks.  "Alright, let's go.  While we're waiting you can at least help me get started on Wart."

[helena-m-wayne-blog]

Do you remember that day? The day that Metropolis was almost grounded, well, flattened more like, to nothing but a pile of rubble that could have resembled the likes of ancient Rome or Greece? When the Gods came to play among the lowly humans of that city, I don't think they considered the death toll they would rise. The families they would break apart. The trauma they would cause to children who lost parents or wives who lost husbands. The site of the hero of Metropolis crashing into building after building, smashing glass, obliterating lives was one that would haunt many minds for years to come. It sounded as if the whole world was caving in, that an earthquake was literally happening in the skies above the once safe city. Most people, however, forgave the sky god within months, saying that the lives of the few outweighed the good of the many. But try telling that to the young girl who almost and did lose her entire existence that day. To have the life you knew, the safe life, ripped from under your feet within the space of hours. I was an eight-year-old girl that day, waiting patiently with my mother in the clinical cafeteria of Wayne Enterprises. Complaining at her, probably, that it was her fault that Daddy was late, again, that the journey from Gotham was her fault, that she didn't care, that my whole life sucked because of her. It was handover day. The day every parent dreads. Meeting the ex, handing over your most precious possession with guilt ridden hands. To me, it was the stark reminder that even though I had all I could wish for at my fingertips, I didn't have what I really needed. A stability in the knowledge that my parents loved each other. Or that I would come home to one of them, not a babysitter or a butler, and a smile with a warm meal and a chance to sit and do homework with an interested parent. I was a burden to both adults in my life, I knew that. They knew that. Even if I was affectionately named kitten by one and sweetheart by the other. That, and I hid their secrets that you wouldn't trust the FBI with, never mind a little girl with serious attention seeking tendencies. Do you know how many times they would play 'Well my Daddy…" and I would have to bite my tongue? How easy it would have been for me slam them all down with four words about either parent? I digress, I'm a bitter woman, if you couldn't tell that already. The cafeteria, no, the whole construction shook with a loud boom that rocked its very foundations. Mom was apprehensive, more than that, intrigued and when mom was intrigued, you needed to be worried. Her green eyes scanned the windows, not getting up just yet, but that little crease in her forehead, just between the eyes, was signal enough to me that I needed to be on guard. Something was coming. I can imagine my little jaw setting firmly or a full bottom lip trembling in fear. I say imagine, because I'm not 100% certain, I tend to burry things deeply when I'm traumatised. "It's okay kitten…they're probably doing something really fun in the science department…" Her voice always fell from her mouth like butter as she took my hand and smiled gently. Encouraging me to finish the milk she'd bought with a nod. And I did, tentatively. On edge. Waiting to run for cover. Jesus, I was from Gotham. I spent some of my time in her run-down apartment in the oldest part of the city. I knew when danger was imminent. That was one of those moments. Still, she sat there, blowing the hot steam from her coffee, taking a sip with full lips in the most beautiful way you could imagine. Elongated fingers wrapped around the white beaker, red nails tapping the porcelain and eyelashes almost hitting the rim of the cup. That was my mom. She could make anything look like sex. As an eight-year-old, I didn't get it, but as I got older, I understood why men stared the way they did, or why she had dad where she wanted him most of the time. Only when that boom crashed a couple of ceiling tiles, did she stand up, on edge, ready to pounce into action. She watched as a building fell a mile away, the sonic sound and the dust that had emitted from crumbling concrete filled the streets in seconds. People were screaming, running to either watch or headed for the stairs in sheer terror. The phone was in her hand, dialling numbers in so quickly as she tapped her foot in agitation, that bottom lip caught in her teeth as she listened to an engaged tone. "God damn you…." She growled under her breath, holding the phone in one hand as she rammed things into my bag, swinging it over her shoulder. "Helena, come here." She held out her other hand and I took it, squeezing on tightly, not one question asked as she dialled again, and still, not one answer as the carnage outside of the window continued. It was now almost black, thick blackness surrounded the building. Screaming and crashing continued both inside and out. "We're going to run, Hel, remember, how we practiced…." She said without passing a green-eyed look at me. Her mind was in survival mode, and when that happened, there was no comfort for her petrified daughter, that would come later. She didn't get the chance as the building shook so hard, that tiles began fall from the ceiling around us, throwing us both under a table as her phone finally rang through, the growl in her throat had become a softer one, one laced with both annoyance and fear. "What the hell is going on out there?" The muffled voice at the end of the phone was the one we both needed at that point in time, her eyes noticed mine, crying was not something that her daughter did, but when she did, it was always her father's duty to deal with them. The speaker phone was activated as the crashing tiles and shaking floor continued around us. "You both need to get out of that building…. NOW…." His growl was one of frustration, one because he was unable to get to us fast enough and he knew that. Even if mom was totally capable of finding us safety, it would be angering him to hell to know he was unable to reach us before our worlds collapsed around us. "Daddy…." My voice broke its silence, integrated with sobs and more over with that high-pitched cry no father needs to hear from his little girl. "Daddy…. it's going to crash…. it's going to fall…" I screamed, screamed as the glass blew out of the windows and flew across the room, showering both of us and those around us. Many of them laying unconscious on the floor, pouring out blood, moaning, screaming and crying worse than I could at that time. "Helena, listen, I'm coming for you now, a few minutes and I'll be there, get your mother and go down the stairs…don't use the elevator…. the stairs …. okay… you got it …." He was attempting to lie through to create calmness, but it wasn't working. I knew it was more than bad, a fear had set in that man's heart, one he had not really had to face before. "Yes… I will …. I promise…" I observed around me, mom was there, comatose, blood driving from her head, covered in dirt, wreckage and lead glass. I tried with all my strength to shake her awake, to make her look at me as I cried out in fear. "Mom…wake up…we need to run…." I was pleading, I remember that, begging for her to live through this, just in time for dad to get there. "Hel, sweetheart, run… you need to be brave … run …" he shouted down the phone as the signal began to break, as if he understood what was happening in that moment in time. I did, I grabbed my bear, tightly and darted for it, the lights flickering as I sped through the darkened building. Down stairs, missing a few and stumbling, cutting open my hands and knees. But I couldn't give into the pain, even at that age I knew not to let it rule me as I got out. Into the dust filled air of the street below. All I could do was look up, helplessly, as most the building began to crash about myself. Stunned that my mother was now trapped inside that rubble, helpless, unable to defend herself. I couldn't even find it in me to grasp the special awareness I needed. Rooted to the spot, not able to see the danger I was in. But he did, luckily for me. In that moment, right at the very second I needed him to be there. Not wanted him too, but needed him too. Scooped up in two arms as the concrete beam hit the floor and not me. Placed on the broken ground again in front of him. Made to look into the eyes of the man that had made me. The ice blue pools that matched my own. "Where is your mommy, sweetheart?" he was angry, but in that anger, I found the comfort and strength I needed as I looked up and pointed to the building that was once Wayne Enterprises, Metropolis Division. He pulled me in, trying to hide me from the trauma and devastation he would always be reluctant to let me be part of from that moment on. "It's okay Helena …. I promise …. you're going to be okay …." For years to come, Bruce Thomas Wayne would keep that promise to that little girl, keep her safe, sheltered and protected from the hell of Gotham. Yet in turn, it would push a giant void between father and daughter. Create an anger in him that he would never be able to control. Because, even though he had saved my life, he hadn't been there when the disaster began. No matter how fast he drove or how angry he became. The spiral began at that moment. A spiral we would try our damned hardest to save him from.

[stories-aesthetics]

Cake?

A/N

Hello all!

This was just going to be a little drabble that had been going through my mind based off of a text post from @alrightevans, but it became something longer (a LOT longer)

The text post this is based off of read:

“i just saw a thing on fb like ‘does somebody wanna be fake engaged to me for like 2 hours to try free wedding cake samples’ and im just…………………..imagine ur otp”

If I can find the actual post I’ll tag a link to this, but that’ll take a lot of work and you all know how lazy I am.

Depending on where I feel like leaving off, this might become a short series, I haven’t decided yet, and it depends on your feedback. (Scratch this part, I said fuck it and I’m posting the whole thing in one go. Sorry for the length, it’s over 3.2K words, whoops?)

As always, tagging those requested and whom I think would like, and enjoy!

@howlingbarnes @bovaria @growningupgeek @hiddenwritingsintheworld @ilostmyshoe-79 @luxdxvine @vintagevalentinexx @abaddonwithyall @dancingalone21 @kittenofdoomage

“Y/N, Y/N c’mon get up, it’s noon already.” Bucky said wearily. He knew how scary Y/N could be when she was awoken before she wanted to be, and he had seen her hungover, but he didn’t want to find out how bad it would be when someone tried to wake her up when she was hungover and heartbroken.

   “James Buchanan Barnes, if I roll over and open my eyes to see you in here, I will literally tear you a new one.” Y/N muttered, but it came out of her mouth more like a growl. She really didn’t need him bugging her, especially since she had found out just the night before that her boyfriend of two years had been cheating on her. Rather than being embarrassed or guilty about being caught with another woman, he asked her to stay and join in with him and the woman. But Y/N was angry, very angry. She didn’t fall into a heap of sobs and sadness, no, Y/N clocked him across the jaw, made the girl leave, and then stole all the alcohol in the apartment. After that she went home to the Avengers Tower and then fell into a heap of sobs and sadness, but with booze. Bucky and Steve found her later that night, after she had gone through three of the seven bottles she stole. They both decided it would be better to comfort the heartbroken assassin than try and stop her. After some time around bottle five, Y/N passed out, thus allowing Bucky to carry her to bed. He had to do it himself since Steve had left the two alone when Y/N finished bottle four. Carrying a fully grown woman by themselves would have been difficult for any normal person, and Bucky thanked his lucky stars for the serum.

   “Y/N, you and I both know that wallowing in self-pity isn’t going to help you, and to be stark, you smell like hard liquor.” Bucky told her as he backed away slightly, knowing from first-hand experience that she could take him down just as easily as she could take down any normal person. “I know you’re hurting, but I have an idea that’ll cheer you up, and it involves food.” He bribed, hoping it would be enough. Bucky hated to see Y/N in pain, not only was she one of his best friends, but she was also the girl he was ridiculously in love with. He never thought he could have a chance with her, and he always knew that boyfriend of hers would hurt her one way or another. But after her break up, he knew he had to be her friend before a future boyfriend.

   “You’re right; you’re alway right.” Y/N said and groaned, sitting up and against the pillows on her bed. “You didn’t happen to bring any Advil and water with you or anything?” She asked and wiped at her eyes to remove her crusty, day-old makeup. Y/N looked like shit, and she knew it too.  She didn’t want to even look at Bucky, not knowing a lot of what happened the night before. But since the super serum burned through the alcohol in Bucky’s system faster than he could drink it, Y/N figured he remembered it all.

   “It just so happens I do, and I ran you a bath.” Bucky told her with a smile as he handed her the glass and medicine. “So take these, take a bath, get dressed, and then meet me in the kitchen.” He told her before leaving the room.

Forty-five minutes later, after Y/N bathed, got dressed, and applied enough makeup to cover the circles under her eyes, she headed to the kitchen to meet Bucky.

“I hope you cooked something delicious and fatty because I’m starv-.” She said as she entered the kitchen, only to see the room empty. “Uh, Bucky?” Y/N called out called out as she wandered towards his room. As she went, she began to hear muffled talking, managing to figure out that Bucky was on the phone with someone.

‘What am I supposed to say, Nat? ‘Hey Y/N, I know you just broke up with your long time boyfriend and all, but I just wanted to tell you I’ve been in love with you for three years and I want you for myself.’ No way, not going to happen. She literally just got out of her relationship, and I don’t think she needs me throwing myself at her.” Bucky said into the phone, his back toward the door. Natasha called him about ten minutes after he left Y/N alone, and she hadn’t stopped pestering him to make a move. “Besides, I already have the day planned out. I’m going to make Y/N breakfast, then we’re going to go book shopping, and for lunch-” He began to explain his plans before turning around to see Y/N in the doorway. “Natasha, I’ll call you back later.” Bucky said before hanging up the phone. “Uh, hey Y/N, how- how much of that did you hear?” He asked her nervously. If she heard his proclamation of his love for her, he would surely be dead.

“Not much, just the part where you said you’re making breakfast, and then we’re going shopping.” She smiled. In actuality, she heard everything, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. She really was famished.

Over the course of the following three or four weeks, Bucky kept Y/N occupied as much as possible. They went out to restaurants and shops, to fairs and carnivals, and to the movies and museums. Just after the first couple of days Y/N had already felt better, and she realized she was never really happy with her ex, not as happy as Bucky was making her anyways. Tony, Natasha and the rest of the team went on any missions that popped up, leaving the two lovebirds to enjoy a little break. Also, they had all set bets on who would make the first move, and when. One afternoon after Y/N and Bucky went out for breakfast, he told her that he had an idea for the day.

“Buck, I hate to say this, but I think we’ve exhausted all that New York City has to offer.” Y/N said with a laugh as she collapsed onto the couch. In truth, she never wanted their outings to end. The past weeks with Bucky had been some of the best in her life, and once they ended, she knew everything would go back to the way it was.

“Actually, Y/N, I have one more idea.” Bucky said in a sly tone, holding a small box in his hands. Inside was his mother’s engagement that Tony had miraculously found. Bucky didn’t ask how or why, because if he did, he knew he wouldn’t have liked the answer. “This is going to sound nuts, and say no if you don’t like it, but marry me.”

“What the hell are you getting at, James?” Y/N asked as she sat up, looking at the ring inside the box after Bucky had opened it. “You’re joking, right? This is crazy! I mean seriously this is psychotic.”

Bucky let out a small chuckle, sitting next to her. “You don’t have to actually marry me, but I saw this bakery that gives out free slices of cakes to engaged couples for their weddings, and I thought it would be fun to try it.” He told her. Y/N stayed quiet for a few moments, and Bucky began to worry. “Listen, Y/N, if you don’t want to do it, that’s fine, I just thought it would hel-”

“I love it. Let’s do it.” Y/N said, cutting Bucky off.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes! It sounds brilliant! And I could go for some cake.” She said excitedly holding her hand out for him. “Well? Are you going to put it on?” She asked in a teasing tone.

“Oh, right.” Bucky said and blushed, taking the ring out of the box before putting it on Y/N’s finger. “Fit’s like a glove.” He murmured, leaning forward slightly to tuck a tuft of her hair behind her ear.

“It’s beautiful,” Y/N said as her own face darkened with a bush from Bucky’s touch, gazing at the ring on her finger.

“It was my mother's; Tony managed to get ahold of it, I didn’t really want the details.”

“Bucky, no- I can’t wear this! You should save this for someone special.” Y/N said and went to take it off.

“Hey, you are special.” Bucky told her as he stopped her from taking the ring off. “Besides, what harm will it do by being out of that dusty box anyways?”

An hour later, after they figured out their whole backstory and future plans, the two ex-assassins headed out for free cake.

“Buck, you sure you want to do this? What if someone recognizes us?” Y/N asked nervously. Her hands began to get clammy, and she wondered if Bucky could feel it, since they were holding hands. Of course, it wasn’t only from her nervousness. She had began to have feelings for Bucky, but she wasn’t sure of whether to act on them, and if they were reciprocated.

“Y/N, don’t worry. If they question it, wondering why it wasn’t in the news, we’ll just say we wanted to keep it quiet.” Bucky told her with a smile, giving her hand a squeeze. “Everything’ll be okay, I promise.”

“Alright Buck, you wear the pants in this relationship.” Y/N smirked, squeezing his hand in return before heading straight to the doors. Bucky rolled his eyes but followed her inside. As the two of them walked up to the counter, whispers could already be heard about them.

“Don’t worry about them.” Bucky whispered into her ear. Just as they got to the counter, a friendly looking woman stepped forward from the back which Bucky assumed was the kitchen.

“Hello! My name is Joanie, how can I help you two?” The lady, Joanie, asked. She was quite elderly, most likely in her seventies.

“Hello, my fiance and I heard that you offer free cake samples to engaged couples.” Bucky started, flashing the woman a rather charming smile. “We were wondering if we could try a few? We want everything to be perfect for the special day.” To really sell it, and since it would be the only time he could do so without her slapping him, Bucky leaned in and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek.

Y/N blushed deeply and looked at Bucky with a shy smile before turning back to the woman. “We’re planning it to be sometime around August, if that helps in any way.”

Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Bucky sat at one of the small tables to the side of the doors. In front of them were roughly a dozen slices of different cakes with different frostings. A few of the different cakes they tried included a lemon cake with a poppy seed filling, chocolate cake with a chocolate ganache frosting, coconut cake with rum frosting, red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting, raspberry cake with vanilla filling, and a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. Bucky decided that the German chocolate cake with raspberry and chocolate ganache frosting, which he swore was the best thing he had ever had, would be his birthday cake until he died. Y/N liked that one as well, and they both asked for another slice.

“That, was amazing.” Bucky told Y/N with a big smile.

“Hell yes, how did you not find out about this sooner?” Y/N asked him teasingly, leaning against his side.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” Bucky chuckled. He gazed at the side of Y/N’s face, wanting to kiss her. She seemed to have zoned out, since it took him three times to say her name before she turned to look at him.

‘Huh? What?” She asked him. Bucky was laughing lightly, and she wasn’t really sure why. She liked when he chuckled, he seemed more carefree when he did, and the sound was soothing to her. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want to just lean forward and press her lips to his, and she knew he reciprocated her feelings, but she felt it would be better to do it when they were alone.

“I just wanted to know if you were ready to go. I think I could climb a building with all this sugar in me.” He told her as he stood up. “I’ll go leave a hefty tip and ask for a whole German chocolate cake.” Y/N laughed and nodded, watching him go.

Get a grip, Y/N.  Y/N thought to herself, staring down at the table. It was neither the time nor place to tell Bucky about her feelings and jump his bones, but boy- did she want to.

Once back at the Tower, Bucky and Y/N went there separate ways for almost the rest of the evening before Y/n asked Friday to call Bucky up to her room. She was nervous, to say the least. What if he didn’t actually like her? What if he did, but she took too long, and he decided to just continue with their days out because he didn’t want to hurt her? Or worse, what if he told her he liked her back, then chickened out at the last second, telling her it was a prank? All the awful scenarios possible swarmed through her brain, and she wanted to back out, but it was too late. But it was too late; Bucky had just arrived at the door before Y/N opened it, his hand raised to knock on it.

“Were you waiting for my arrival?” Bucky asked in a joking tone, walking into her room. At seeing the weary look on Y/N’s face, Bucky frowned and stopped. “Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked, his tone softer and kinder.

“Nothing, just zoned out for a minute.” Y/N said and smiled, snapping right back to herself. “Want to watch a movie?” She asked him and moved to sit on her bed, her back resting up against her pillows.

“Sure, what do you recommend?” Bucky asked and plopped down next to her, his arm moving around her waist.

“Beauty and The Beast?” She suggested, looking at his side profile. Bucky was a beaut, anyone could see that, but Y/N had noticed it more and more over the course of their time together. She began to truly see him for how he was; that’s why suggested Beauty and The Beast, she had hoped he would see how similar he and The Beast could be, like how they were both misunderstood and viewed wrong, and she hoped he would realize how much she truly cares for him, like Belle cared for the Beast, without all Disney drama of course.

“Alright, sounds perfect.” Bucky said with light smile. “Friday? Please put on ‘Beauty and The Beast’ in Y/N’s room.” He called out, his request soon followed by the beginning of the movie.

Once it was over, Y/N and Bucky had managed to cuddle closer, her head on his chest, his arm around her waist, with their legs tangled together underneath the blankets. Y/N was almost asleep, the steady rise and fall of Bucky’s chest was slowly relaxing her. She was almost completely out when Bucky suddenly shifted, trying to pull away.

“Hmm, Bucky?” Y/N opened her eyes, sitting up slightly. “What’re you doin’?” She asked, looking at him. He looked startled, as if he hadn’t expected her to be awake, which must have been the reason he was trying to leave. Y/N looked at the clock, shocked at the time. Was it twelve already? She thought to herself. She looked back at Bucky, who looked tired and beautiful at the same time.

“Thought you were already out,” He told her as he sat on the edge of her bed. “I was just going to head back to my room, get some sleep.”

“Don’t go,” Y/N said and smiled, scooting over so there was more space for him. “When did the movie end?”

“About an hour or so ago, you’ve been in and out the whole time.” Bucky said and smiled, moving back under the covers with her. In actuality, it had been more like two hours, but Bucky didn’t want to disturb Y/N, especially with how peacefully she slept. He knew sleep didn’t come easy to her- hell, it didn’t come easy to any of them- so he decided it would be better to let her sleep, even if it did mean his arm would go numb.

“Buck, you should’ve left when the movie ended if you didn’t want to stay,” Y/N said and smiled softly at him. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, you know.” But, she did want him to stay, she wanted him to stay with her so she could finally tell him what they had both been waiting for.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind staying. Besides, your bed is warmer than mine.” He chuckled, his arms moving around her waist again. As Bucky laid there with Y/N, the only thing that was going through his mind was kiss her kiss her kiss her, she’s right there, kiss her kiss her. No matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t risk losing their friendship over his crush.

“Bucky,” Y/N said softly, her voice nervous and quiet. “I want to show you something, but you have to keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay, Doll. Just don’t do anything that’ll injure me.” Bucky said with a chuckle, his eyes shut tight. Y/N laughed at his little comment before she slowly moved forward, pressing her lips to Bucky’s for a slow, soft kiss. It took Bucky a moment to respond, but the next thing Y/N knew, her body was completely off the bed with her legs wrapped around Bucky’s waist as he kissed her back, his flesh hand on her cheek, his metallic one on her waist. He kissed her hard and fast, but he managed to keep his eyes closed the entire time. Once they both pulled away, needing air so they didn’t pass out, Bucky opened his eyes slightly. “If that kiss doesn’t mean anything to you, I need to know now, so I can leave and hide forever.” He told her breathlessly, the words I love you on the tip of his tongue.

Y/N laughed softly and kissed him again, this one short and soft. Once she pulled away, Y/N cupped his cheeks in her hands and rested her forehead against his, their noses brushing together. “I love you, Bucky Barnes. I’ve wanted to tell you that since I heard you tell Natasha you loved me over the phone.”

“Oh, thank god.” Bucky said and fell forward, trapping Y/N underneath his body as he kissed over her jaw and neck. “Say it- say it again- please.” He asked her in a desperate tone.

“I love you, I love you so much Bucky Barnes, I love you.” She said over and over, her hands winding through his hair to hold his lips against her skin.

“I love you, Y/N.”

[void-bee]

Time Moves Around Us

i had to write a first person story for class, so i wrote it about a lesbian baker on the autism spectrum

have a nice read, it’s like 3,000 words

Time was very important to me. Keeping that time in order was very important. The world outside my schedule was loud and chaotic, and how others made it through their days is beyond me. There was order and safety in knowing where you should be, what you should do, and when you should do it. Knowing what needs to be done gave me a tether to the rest of the world, let me interact with those who think differently than I do. It made me feel safe. It let me feel in control.

My planet turned on its axis, orbiting the Earth. That’s how other people felt to me: a world away. My brain turned my small world. My world chimed on the hour and there was nothing more soothing to decipher those chimes. They spoke to me in lists and deadlines. So, on Tuesday, I woke up at 3:30 a.m. like I always do. The laminated list near my bedside gave me clear directions for my morning routine in ten minute increments. The timer on its chain went around my neck, its quiet ticking the most gentle sound in my world.

            Forty minutes later found me downstairs from my apartment, in my bakery, nursing a mug of coffee and looking through the orders for the day. I had to get bread dough rising, cupcakes mixed, and cookies cut by five or my whole schedule would be off. There was also an order for a cake that had to be finished by 6 p.m., but my sister got in at noon and would be taking care of most of the leg work. I was glad to have her.

“Drawing Dead” started up right on time, a mix of technojazz and piano comforted me through my cupcakes. Getting into the groove of baking is the secret to making them taste perfect; focusing solely on the pastry and nothing else. Time moved around me and I stayed in place, just me and the desserts. Baking is comforting in this manner; follow the instructions and they’re perfect every time. Emily didn’t like this CD, but it turned always ended before noon. This was one of the many ways Emily and I couldn’t communicate.

Rachel came in at six to work the counter. She was a little slip of a blonde college student, but I didn’t know what she was studying. I knew she didn’t really like me, she didn’t understand me. But she was good as a cashier and I trusted her with the sweets.

            “Good morning Miss Westmeyer!” she trilled as she opened the backdoor. I didn’t bother to answer her; I had only twelve seconds before the cupcakes needed to come out. She made a face I saw in the corner of my eye but I couldn’t decipher it so I disregarded it. The cupcakes came out perfectly. They were moist and sweet, iced with three perfect rosebuds each. She tried again to engage me, “Did you have a nice night? What are the specials for today boss?” She had tendency to babble at me and I could barely follow the lines of her questioning. Her world was so loud.

“It was fine.” I motioned for her to follow me to the register and wrote out the specials of mocha fudge, lemon lavender, and rosewater mint for the day’s cupcakes. We were also featuring a red velvet cake and tiramisu. The cookies and brownies were fixed menu items, and we sold three basic types of cupcakes daily. Biscotti was sold before noon. Cakes were sold by the slice. Whole cakes that didn’t get sold yesterday were half-price today. We sold milk, tea, and coffee to go along with the desserts, but the big fancy coffee machines made me anxious. We only had two percolators: one for regular and one for decaf.

Rachel continued to talk at me, but I wasn’t focused on what she was saying. I ferried cookies and cakes and brownies into the displays. There were perfectly painted roses on each sugar cookie and a small rosette on each brownie. Our store was called “Cake Bouquet”, so every treat had a small flower on it somewhere. Emily thought of the name, I just piped the flowers. Rachel quit trying to talk to me, thankfully, and just unlocked the door, started running the presale reports and starting up the cash register. I was glad to have her, chatty as she may be. She knew what needed to be done.

Time moved around me again as I kept up with the flow of orders, baking as needed and frosting constantly. Some more cashiers worked the day shift, but I didn’t attempt to know any of them, and they stayed away from the back other than to keep me up to date on shortages. Emily arrived promptly – I’m always relieved when she does, I get nervous when she’s late – and together we made the birthday cake. I spent three hours making ornate gardenias and tulips and roses for it. It’s the only thing I’m good at. Mrs. Romelia was pleased with her cake and I was pleased with our work. As the hours waned away the orders slowed and so did I. By six, there was no more baking to be done as we tried to push the remaining treats. By eight we were closed. Emily ran the cash register after the last cashier left at five, so it was just the two of us. She didn’t mind our silence and I appreciated that.

I gathered up the remaining product other than any of the whole cakes and left the shop to give them to the shelter two streets over. Emily suggested that we give what we don’t sell to those who can’t purchase it. I liked knowing someone appreciated them. I handed the box over to the heavy black woman who works there. I didn’t know her name: all we say is ‘here you go’ and ‘thank you sweetie’. And then I left. I walked the two blocks back to my apartment above the bakery and I balanced the books for the day and took the inventory. Emily was always gone by the time I got back from the shelter. At 9:30 p.m. I reheated some food that she left me for dinner. At ten I went to bed.

I woke up at 1:51 a.m. like I always do. No, wait, that’s not right, I always wake up at 3:30. I stared at the clock in confusion, wondering why I was awake. The clock said 1:51. What was presumably another crash came from downstairs and it was so loud. It was so loud I must have woken up. I crept downstairs, trying to figure out what was happening. My mind was humming a single note, panic blurring my periphery.

There was a man in my bakery. I stood at the bottom of the staircase in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a shirt and shorts, and my feet were bare. He stood across from me wearing a jacket and boots and jeans and I couldn’t see his face under a bandana, couldn't see his hair under a baseball cap. The kitchen was very, very dark. He said something to me but I couldn’t hear him over the increasingly loud humming in my head which was rising and rising in pitch. And then it wasn’t just in my head, but it was out of my mouth and I was screaming. Waving his arms at me, he took a step closer but I didn’t know what that meant. I felt a thousand miles from him but also so, so close. His planet circled closer and closer until it crashed into mine. Something gleamed in his hand and my legs couldn’t hold me anymore, dropping me to the floor in panic. I covered my ears but kept staring at him. We had locked eye contact until he turned away. I kept screaming and screaming and then I fell away.

When I came back, it was to noise that was too much. There were sirens and they were so loud. Emily was close to me and she wasn’t touching me but she smelled nice and she was close to me, so that was enough. I focused on her and away from the flashing lights that flicked red and blue and back. Someone in a brown jacket approached us and put a hand on my shoulder. They were wearing a jacket and he had been wearing a jacket. I flinched back violently from the hand, I didn’t know who was touching me. I heard Emily shouting again but I was too far away from myself to understand what she was saying. She put her hands over her ears and locked eyes with me. I copied her. It was easier to focus when I couldn’t hear as clearly. As my breathing calmed, everyone backed away from me. Time moved around me.

“-got Asperger’s don’t put your hands on her. She doesn’t react well.” I finally made out Emily’s words. Her tone was calm but she was arguing with someone behind me. “She’s just had a serious shock, she’s frightened, she’s panicked. You would be too, just give her some space.” I was so glad to have Emily. I couldn’t tell whoever was trying to touch me that it was just too much right now. I just needed a minute, or an hour, it was hard to tell.

“Listen, ma’am, I understand she’s panicked, but maybe talking through it will help. It can’t be good to keep all that bottled up.” The voice behind me was just as calm as Emily, but the tone wasn’t aggressive. It was warm. The far edges were still dark but I turned my gaze towards the warm voice. It was a police officer; their badge was shiny. The badge was like a little winking star. The officer had a hat with a wide brim and was wearing a scarf. It looked soft and a shiver ran through me as their winter clothing reminded me that my window was broken while I wore nothing but pajamas. I tugged gently at Emily’s shoulder.

“Emily, I’m cold. I need my shawl. The window’s broken,” I told her, not sure if she’d noticed. Something about her expression changed, but not her mouth. I didn’t know what it meant but she nodded and turned to go upstairs. She and the officer stared at each other. I shivered again and she left. Then the officer stared at me and I stared back. Gently, probably copying my sister like I always do, they knelt down so we were eye to eye.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” she asked. Her voice was warm again, like Emily’s was. If she knew enough to mimic my sister’s behavior, she must have been okay to talk to. Now that I could see her, I noticed that the officer had dark, gentle eyes and dark, soft-looking skin. She felt warm like a star; warm like the sun. She reminded me of coffee and I liked coffee. “I’m Officer Thorpe,” she continued, “and I’m here to help you. I want to know what you saw, so I can find whoever busted up your shop. Is that alright? Can I help you?” she kept staring at my eyes and I tried very hard to maintain eye contact. I didn’t want her to think I was lying, and I know on TV people look away when they’re lying.

My voice was tiny when I said “Okay,” but I didn’t mean for it to be. Maybe I was more scared than I thought. Officer Thorpe smiled. I tried to smile back but it was hard. I didn’t feel like smiling right then.

“Okay, okay, great. You’re doing great. Can you tell me what happened?” she asked. My breathing sped up as I thought back to what had happened. Someone broke into my shop and broke my window and woke me up and- “Hey, hey, hey. Stop that it’s okay I’m sorry,” she said, holding her hands up but not touching me. I realized I was panicking again. I was glad she didn’t touch me. “Hey, hey, okay, breathe with me okay?” I copied her as she breathed slow and steady. I calmed a bit. She smiled at me again and I tried again. It was a little easier this time.

“Can we take it slower?” I asked, voice a little stronger this time. The officer smelled like cinnamon.

            “Of course we can.” She moved a little bit closer to me. “Okay, so tell me what woke you up and we’ll go from there.” It sounded very reasonable, the way she phrased that. ‘We’ll go from there’ was promising somehow.

            “I woke up at 1:51. Which is wrong, I normally wake up at 3:30.” She was nodding and writing down what I said. I was glad, because that meant I’d only have to tell the story once. I don’t think I could tell it again. “I was very confused and scared. I went downstairs because I heard a crash.” My gaze slid past Officer Thorpe to my kitchen. The crash must have been one of my stand mixers, which was on the floor. It was broken. “I guess it was my mixer. I came downstairs and he was standing across from me. We just looked at each other.”

            Seemingly excited, the officer nodded quicker. “Okay, so you did see him! What did he look like? Could you see any of his features?” I leaned back a bit, trying not to let her excitement rile me up. I had to stay calm to tell the story so I could go back to sleep. I still had to wake up in a couple hours.

            “It was dark when I came down. He had a bandana on his face, but he wasn’t wearing gloves. He wore a jacket and he wore a hat. He wore jeans and boots. He had a knife, I think it was from my kitchen. He stole one of my knives and he broke my window and he broke my mixer.” I frowned at this. Why would he break my mixer? The officer wrote more slowly and then she looked at me. There was something in her eyes I liked.

            “Okay, so he broke in and he knocked over your mixer, which woke you up. He must have knocked it off ‘cause it was so dark.” I was very glad she was explaining this to me. “He didn’t come prepared to hurt anybody, since he grabbed one of your kitchen knives when he heard you. He took all the money that was in the register drawer that I guess was set up for today, but he didn’t mess with the safe. And you’re alright, right?” Officer Thorpe took off her scarf and gently set it on my shoulders while she talked. I didn’t realize I was still cold, but her eyes made me feel warm. The sun was so warm and it came from her eyes.

            “Right,” I breathed gently. There was a cough off to the left of me, and I saw Emily standing there with my shawl. She also laid it onto me, but I somehow wished it had been Officer Thorpe. The officer flushed red at whatever expression Emily was making and she rose quickly, flipping shut her notebook.                

            “Well,” she said loudly, purposefully, “I guess that’s all the statement I need, ma’am.” I put my hand on her knee.

            “Avery.” I said. She flushed deeper and Emily rolled her eyes in my periphery.

            “I guess that’s all I’ll need, Avery,” Officer Thorpe amended. Smiling was easy now. She smiled back at me and Emily stepped into my line of sight. Reminded of her presence, the officer turned to my sister, presumably to hear her statement also. Emily followed Officer Thorpe to the door after they both gave me an order to sit at one of my baking counters and keep calm. It was easy to keep calm if I was thinking of Officer Thorpe and not the robbery. I wanted to go get coffee because I was tired, and it reminded me of the police officer, but I was told to stay where I was. The sky was lightening outside and I saw a glimpse of morning sunlight catch Officer Thorpe’s profile as she talked to my sister in the doorway. Red and blue looked good on her. Upstairs, my alarm sounded and I fidgeted with the beads on the end of my shawl.

            It was 3:30 a.m., time to wake up. I had to get the breads in the oven by five.

            We didn’t open the next day, or the day after that. It took two weeks to get my window fixed and to be able to reopen the business. Those were a terrifying two weeks. My schedule was gone and without it, my planet was sent adrift in the chaos of what regular people call ‘spontaneity’. But as my mother used to say before she died, ‘When an anchor rises, the ship sails’. Without my anchor, I could discover something new and something exciting, something terrifying. My new waters came in the form of Madison Thorpe, my sole customer for two weeks. Officer Thorpe came in with the sun every day at 9 a.m. for the first five days, once she learned that I really do appreciate punctuality and routine, to keep me involved with the case. I felt very relieved to be kept informed. They caught the robber after five days and he was sentenced to two years in jail and reparations for my window. And he had to pay for my mixer.

            After the first five days, I had no idea why she kept coming in. Maybe she liked the biscotti? After a month, Emily began to suspect she came for my company and she informed me of this, which was both surprising and flattering to say the least. She stopped being Officer Thorpe after two months of coming into Cake Bouquet, giving me a stern “It’s Madison when I’m off duty.” Officer Thorpe became Madison, who came in at 9 a.m. for a biscotti, a cup of coffee with two sugars and no milk, a cookie for herself, and a ‘mystery treat’ for her partner. She became Madison, who liked to make jokes I didn’t understand but didn’t make fun of me for needing an explanation. She became Madison, who tried a sample tablespoon of whatever tea I was drinking that day, but hadn’t found one that didn’t make her face twist up.

Time moved around us. She became Maddie after four months of nine a.m. breakfasts, twelve p.m. lunches, and eight p.m. trips to the local shelter. She became Maddie, who loved sleeping over in my warm apartment above the bakery, but never complained about sleeping on the guest bed. She became Maddie who was bleary-eyed and incoherent at 3:30 a.m., when my alarm woke me. Mornings were accompanied by a soft touch to my face and a garbled greeting when I set a mug of coffee on her bedside table and she went back to sleep. ‘Making Maddie’s coffee’ made its way onto my laminated list. She kissed my cheek at five a.m. when she walked by me in the kitchen to go to work, and she always left with two travel mugs of coffee and six doughnuts. They were only made for her. She moved her things into the closet in the guest room, so mine could remain color coordinated and evenly spaced in my closet. She became the brilliant sun that my tiny planet orbited around. She gave me light and life. I became ‘sweetheart’, ‘darling’, ‘sunshine’, ‘lovely’. She moved into my bed. We became us.

[ecotone99]

[RF] If i knew what was gonna happen i would have still done the same regardless.

Author's note: This is a short story i wrote for the writing prompt here [WP] Every 10 years, you are expected to go to a meeting you have already been to; one attended by several future and younger versions of yourself, each version separated by 10 year intervals. The youngest you is 10, the oldest 90. You relive the same meeting, just each time from a different angle.

Just wanted to share it here.

​

Year 10:

I entered a room with 9 sets of chairs that were set out to make a circle. On each one of them sat a person with a signs in front of them with number that went from 10 – 90.

It seemed like I was the last person to come.

They all looked at me as I went down to take my seat in the number ten chair.

The man with the 40 number started off the meeting with complaining, shouting and starting angrily saying a lot of words that I didn’t understand.

He seemed to be especially angry at 30. They both started arguing and 30 ended up leaving.

60 and 70 tried to talk him in to calm down, but he only got angrier and then slammed the door as he went outside.

The room was full of silence after that, and then 20 got up and said that he was busy and that he had better things to do than waste time here, right before leaving the room.

After that the other people in the room started talking about some stuff like marriage and will to live, but I wasn’t really interested in adult talk. I daydreamed about my Gameboy that I left behind at home. I wanted to go back home to play Pokémon.

I dozed off for the rest of the meeting, but when my mind came back I realized the only ones that were left were 80, 90 and i.

Now that I looked at 90 I noticed that he had tubes attached all around his body and that his chair was actually a wheelchair.

80 stood up and came towards me and opened his palm to reveal a piece of candy, which he then gave to me.

He patted by head and said as he started coughing: “You are a good boy, Isaac. Do what you wish with your life, for it is the only one you have.”

Then he started walking towards the door.

“I want to go play pokemon on my Gameboy.”

He looked back at me and smile.

“Go do that then.” Then he walked out.

I was now left with 90 who was in the wheelchair.

He seemed like he was too old and tired to talk, but then when I stood up to walk out he whispered:

“I play pokemon with my Gameboy. Wanna play together?”

“Ye-Yea, sure.” I replied a bit crept out. “But I left mine at home, I promise to play with you the next time we meet.”

“Promise?” He said as his breathing was visibly becoming louder.

“Yes.”

He seemed content with that and I went out the room looking forward to playing more pokemon when I got home.

Year 20:

I entered the room, actually more like dragged into if I were to be honest. As my final exams was only days away and I was already behind on my study material. I want to get this over with as soon as possible and go back to studying.

I looked around to see that the only one left to come was me from 10 years ago. I waited a few more minutes before I decided it was not worth wait. As I started to stand up the door creaked and my younger self entered the room.

Soon the meeting began.

I could hear 40 giggling to himself as he was staring at 30 without even blinking once.

“Look at you. All lively, feeling like you are at the top of the world.” 40 said to 30.

“Little do you know your whore fucking wife is cheating behind you back.” He continued as he laughed to himself.

“How dare you call Margret such slurs?” 30 replied. “You make me wonder if I had fallen into a ditch and had suffered brain damage before I turned 40.” He replied.

“No, but you must have accidentally poured bleach into your eyes to not see how of a cheating whore she is.” 40 shouted back.

Then the arguing started and words thrown left and right, but I can’t afford to deal with this noise right now. I will have a headache before the exams start. I will just cover my ears for some quiet and silence then deal with my future problems when the time comes.

Not soon after 30 ran out fuming, then when 60 and 70 tried to calm 40 down, he got even angrier and slammed the door as he went out.

Now the room was silent.

I decided that I had seen enough.

“Well, that was a waste of my time.” I said as I stood up. “I don’t see the point of these meetings, it is not productive even in the slightest. I have better things to do.”

As I went out the door, I wondered if I should have asked 30 for the exam questions. But whatever, it is too late now.

Year 30:

I have been newly wed to an old colleague of mine from high school. Margret, my one and only true love. Her eyes the color of silver and lips as soft as marshmallows. She always tells me to let go from time to time to enjoy life. But work has been keeping me busy these days. But I can’t tell her that, not to her precious heart.

Oh … yes … right, the meeting.

So I entered the room, filled with excitement to announce the news of my engagement, even though more than half of everyone there already knew about it.

I am about to shout hello to everyone in the room only to see that the only person who was already there was 90.

So I quietly sat down and decided to wait for everyone else to come.

While I was waiting, I tried to recall my memories of the meeting 10 years ago, but I was too worried about exams at the time. So most of it was mixed in with stuff I had exams on. I do remember there being a lot of shouting, and then I started having a heachache, but oh well we will see what happened.

Soon entered 60 and then not long after 70.

They sat down in silence like me as they examined each other.

80 came in slowly as his knees looked like they were giving up. Well considering that I can still walk at that age I am sure I will live pretty healthy. But I have to remind myself to buy a walking stick for that age.

Then 40 came in. I tried to greet him, but he only kept staring at me.

Then 50 entered the room, but I couldn’t have a good look at him, since i was too busy trying to avoid eye contact with 40 who was still staring at me, sitting in his chair next to 50.

20 entered the room. I knew that he couldn't wait to get out of here.

At last, I gave out a sigh of relief as 10 finally entered the room.

I looked at him as he struggled to get into his chair and thought to myself: “Who would have though a little shrimp like him would be blessed enough to have such a wonderful woman by his side.”

With that the meeting had officially started.

As I was getting ready to talk, 40 started to giggle out loud and said:

“Look at you. All lively, feeling like you are at the top of the world. Little do you know your whore fucking wife is cheating behind you back.”

I was shocked that I would be talking in such manner in only 10 years from now. I surely must have been drinking before coming to the meeting.

“How dare you call Margret such slurs?” I replied furiously. “You make me wonder if I had fallen into a ditch and had suffered brain damage before I turned 40.”

“No, but you must have accidentally poured bleach into your eyes to not see how much of a cheating whore she is.” 40 shouted back at me.

“Listen here, you drunkard.” I called out to him angrily. “I don’t care what you say will happen in the next 10 years. No one in their right mind would listen to a babbling drunk like you. For how long have you started drinking?”

He started drunkenly laughing, that he started chocking on his own saliva.

“Ay, you are right I have started drinking, but that was only after I found out.” He said as he crossed his arms. “If you would take my advice dump her already or even better just cheat back on her. Trust me it won’t be much of a stranger to you once you become me. But you won’t because you are too much of a soft hearted idiot.”

“That’s enough.” I shouted as i started to stand up to make my way out. “I don’t have to listen to this any longer.”

“It not my fault that you have bad taste in women, Isaac.” 40 shouted at me as I opened the door.

I stopped for a second, but decided it was not worth replying to him.

But truthfully, I was worried. In the end, it all seemed too good to be true. I have to make sure that she does indeed love me, so that I don’t have any doubts.

Year 40:

As I entered the room my eyes searched for one person and one only.

30.

Oh there he is. That bastard is right where I left him.

I couldn’t help but smile while staring at him. Perhaps I wasn’t looking that sane in front of everyone, considering how much alcohol I swallowed last night to drown my misery. But that didn’t matter, for the one responsible for all this shit that happened to me was right in front of me and I didn’t care about any other person in this room.

When the little boy sat down, I started bad mouthing that fucking whore in front of 30.

Of course, I knew he wouldn’t listen to me and nothing would change. But I couldn’t keep bottling all this anger inside me.

And of course, he started being a baby wimp and ran away.

Then I sat there, with not a drop of guilt in my heart as both 60 and 70 gave me look of pity.

“What are you fucking looking at?” I shouted at the both of them. “You know what that fucking bitch did and then you act like you are better than me?”

“You didn’t have to tell it to him that way.” 60 told me quietly.

“Oh what fucking difference would it make?” I replied. “He will end up becoming a drunk old bastard like me anyways.”

“You can’t continue living your life like that and you know that.” 70 said. “In time you will learn to forgive yourself, Isaac.”

I gave out a shrug.

“Forgive myself you say?”

And then i shouted angrily: “Why would I forgive myself? That cheating whore was the one who decide our relationship wasn’t good enough for her.”

But they both closed their eyes and didn’t reply.

This made me even more angry.

“Well, Screw you all to hell. You can continue your shitty meeting without me.”

I went through the door and slammed it on my way out.

Who the hell do they think they are? Making it sound like it was my fault.

Year 50:

I entered that miserable room. I walked to the chair to sit down like all the other 4 times before. What was the point of it all?

What is the point of this meeting if I won’t be able to change anything anyways?

This is just torture at this point. I want to kill myself, but I know I can’t, since I can see that i will live for another 40 years at least, only to be bedridden just like 90 sitting over there in his wheelchair. That is if you call that living in the first place.

But that is not why I came here today. I came here to ask some questions. I had to know.

I waited for everything else to play out, so that it is calm enough for me to ask.

After 40 had left, I decided that it was time.

I looked at 60, but he was already looking at me, he knew what was coming.

“So tell me, 60. Why did you decide to continue living your life, even though everything hurts so much?” I asked him as I once again look at the ground.

“Honestly.” He said. “I don’t know. The last 20 years have been a living hell for me. There were days that I would cry myself to sleep. Once, I was sent to ER for a heart attack and when I woke up, no one was there for me. I still feel empty the same way you do now.”

“Is that how I will live the rest of my life? Just spend it being a miserable bastard.” I thought to myself.

“But.” He continued. “Once, i let go of the burdens holding me in the past, everyday it started hurting a bit less. And I started looking up towards the future again.”

I raise my head as my eyes started watering.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t know what I am gonna do with the rest of my life.” 60 said.” But I know that I don’t have to make myself suffer anymore.”

“So even a person like me can still deserve a second chance?” I thought to myself.

I sat down for a while in that chair trying to process everything.

Then I decided that I don’t want to live like this anymore. I want to become happier, even if a little. Now that I know I can overcome the next 10 years, nothing can keep me down anymore.

I stood up and wiped the tears from my eyes with me sleeve and said:

“Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear.”

As I slowly walked towards the door, I wave at everyone and said:

“I promise to stay clean of alcohol from now on and start looking for work again.”

I see a grin form on 60’s face as he waves back at me with his hunched back in his chair.

I exited the room, knowing that whatever is to come, I shall persevere.

Year 60:

I sigh to myself as I entered the room, knowing exactly what is to come.

Almost right after I entered, 70 also came out the door behind me.

We both went to our respective seats.

He examines me as I look back at him. Since botg of us what was gonna happen.

As the last person enters, I start breathing in and out to calm myself.

So the ruckus happens as it always does and 30 leaves, followed by 40, then 20.

And now it begins.

I look at 50 as he hesitates what to ask exactly.

And when he does, I do the only thing I can. I give him hope. I tell him that life gets better and that he can make it work. I only told him what he needed to hear.

And that seemed to have satisfied him. And I give him a sad little goodbye as he leaves the room.

Once, he exits the room, I drop the smile as I feel 70 staring at me.

“So you decided to lie to him after all?” He asked me.

“Well, what else would you want me to do?” I reply as I lay back in my chair. “If I told him that life will still be terrible after 10 whole years of hard work, he would have never tried living better anyways.”

“We both know that’s not true?” He replied with a cunning look in his eyes.

After a bit of a stare off, I sighed and then said:

“Fine. I give in.” I replied. “I just didn’t have the heart to tell him. When I look back at all the effort I have put into turning my life around, I still ask myself if it was futile. But I can’t let him think that already. I need to make him believe now, so that he can continue trying for as long as he can.”

“Look at you, so grown up.” He replied jokingly. “Now a wiseman, who passes words of advice to the ear of the youth.”

“Ah stop with the mockery, you silver scaled snake.” I said as we both started laughing.

After a bit, out of curiosity, I asked him:

“So tell me … uhmmm, does it really get better?”

“Well, I could answer you and say yes, but who knows if I am telling you the truth? Maybe I will do the same to you as you did to the young lad.” He answered with a stupid smirk on his face.

“Ay, that’s fair I guess.” I said as I look at the ground.

I raised myself to my feet and said:

“Well, we are young as long as we live. There is no thing as become too old to stay young.”

As I am about to open the door, I heard 70 say something.

“Hey, young lad. Make sure you live a good life and a piece of advice from me, you should start looking into gardening. So that I have a nice tree to sleep under in ten years.”

I give him a quick smile and reply as I exit the room:

“Ay, I will consider your advice, geezer.”

Year 70:

As I entered, I follow 60’s lead as we both went to our seats. I could tell looking at him that he was nervous. We both knew how it was gonna turn out, but that still didn’t make the situation any more moral.

Was lying to someone to give them what could be false hope the right thing to do?

Perhaps and perhaps not, but even though it is cruel, it is what I would have wanted to happen to me 20 years ago.

But I have to say that life did get better at the end. Now I spend my days taking care of a big beautiful garden with very colorful trees and flowers. A place where people come to visit through thick and thin and children come to play at. Many people fall in love and maybe break each other’s hearts in there. But isn’t that true for life too. Sometimes people bring me gifts as appreciation for my work, but it is always their smile that sooth my heart the most.

And now I sit here through shouting and lying as I see it repeat it does like every 10 years.

And now that 60 has done the deed, I decided to jest him a little to lighten up his mood.

As he left I gave him something to distract himself with and give him purpose and in due time happiness.

As I look around I see 10, who was still daydreaming about his Gameboy, 80 who was sitting there silently and 90 who practically looked dead at this point.

But I promised myself not to give any thought to the future; I will live what I can now, so that I don’t regret it later.

Year 80:

As the years went on people around me pointed out to me that I was becoming more forgetful as the days went on. At first, I excused it as my memory being back due to age, since now I was practically an old man and my limbs started to sore even after a little jog.

Then my limbs started to fail me as it became harder and harder to work in the garden. One day, while I was working I collapsed and when I woke up I was in recovery room. But this time, it was different.

Many families who used to come to my park visited me during my recovery and they brought their kids with them, who then handed me gifts of chocolates and many wonderful flowers. That night I cried true tears of joy as I knew I wasn’t alone anymore.

The next day the doctor came in to tell me the news.

He said that I was gonna recover in a few weeks, but I would still have to stay off any heavy work and take calcium supplements to delay my osteoporosis.

But he also took some MRI scans of my brain due to the request of some of my visitors. He suspected that I might have early stage Alzheimers.

So I laid off all the garden’s work to a young lad who was helping me take care of the garden, that I hired when it started to become more difficult for me to work.

And as I became 80 I thought to myself: ”What do I want to tell myself from the past once I enter the room?”

After thinking about it for a while, I decided that it was better of if I said nothing.

For this once in my life I want to sit there and see all my hard work, all my suffering, all my rage play right in front of me.

I want to see it all one last time, before I forget forever.

As I enter the room, I see the same people I have gotten to know during the entirety of my life. I slowly make my way to my chair and just watch.

I look at 10 as he sits there confused on what all these new words 40 is saying means.

I look at 20 as he worries about making it through college.

I look at 30 as he fights against 40’s insults about his wife, trying to defend her integrity. Oh which reminds me; I never bought the walking stick I wanted to remind myself about.

I look at 40 as he bashes out in everything in his sight, angry over what he once lost.

I look at 50 as he waits for something to give him hope.

I look at 60 as he encouraging 50 to live better, like a father telling his son he can go play with his friends once he has finished his school work.

I look 70 as he sits there with a spirit able to rival any youth, kindling a bit of jealously in me.

I look at myself, a grumpy old man, looking back on his fond memories.

Then at last, I look at 90 as I see the inevitable future that awaits me.

But I do not fear, for now that I have looked back on it all. I can truly say I lived a worthy life.

And now that the only people left in the room were 10, 90 and there was only one more thing left to do.

I stood up and walked to 10 and kneeled dow slowly as I revealed something in my hand to him.

It was the piece of candy I received from myself 70 years ago; I had changed its wrapping with a new one.

I patted his head and said to him:

“You are a good boy, Isaac. Do what you wish with your life, for it is the only one you have.”

As I walked towards the door I heard him say:

“I want to go play pokemon on my Gameboy.”

I looked back as his sweet innocence made me smile.

“Go do that then.” I said as I walked out the door one last time.

Year 90:

I don't remember how I got into this room. Mom must have brought me here while I was asleep. I soon see some people entering the room. Some of they look scary, like the bearded man sitting on the chair with 40 on it, while some others look very kind like the old man sitting in the chair with 70 on it.

But it is kind of boring all they do is get angry and shout words that I don’t understand.

I hope mom comes pick me up soon, so that I can go back to playing pokemon. Maybe I should have brought my Gameboy with me.

As everyone starts leaving, I hear a little voice say:

“I want to go play pokemon on my Gameboy.”

I look to see a figure of small boy, just like me. Perhaps I can ask him if we can become friends, so that I can play pokemon with him.

I try to speak, but my throught feels very dry. I see him getting off his chair, but I can’t force out a single world.

I don’t want him to go out before I can ask him to become my friend.

So I muster all the strength that I can and whisper:

“I also play pokemon with my Gameboy. Wanna play together?”

He looks at me kind of shocked by then replies:

“Ye-Yea, sure. But I left mine at home, I promise to play with you the next time we meet.”

Oh, so he doesn’t have it here with him? I guess we can play together next time.

“Promise?” I ask him.

“Yes.” He answers back.

He then skips his way to the door and leaves.

I am happy now. I made a friend today and we can play pokemon together the next time we meet.

Now, all I have to do is wait for mom to pick me up.

The End.

submitted by /u/FluffWrites [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/3d44sbh

[tysonrunningfox]

Open Flames: Part 6.5

I needed Arvid and Astrid to chat because after all their angst in Eret III, somehow now they’re the gossip duo who keeps all those cerebral Haddocks in check and I just...need how ridiculous this whole thing is getting.  

Masterpost

Arvid is helping Aurelia record the volunteer rotation for the construction crew due to leave later today when there’s a knock at the door.  Aurelia uses his shoulder to stand up and go answer it, her chiefly posture fading when she greets whoever it is.  

“Oh, hey, what’s up?”  

“Is Arvid here?”  Arvid’s mom asks and he leans over to look around Aurelia at her.  

“Your mom’s here to gossip, babe,” Aurelia leaves the door open and gestures at it.  “I’ll finish this up.”  

“I’m not here to gossip,” Mom insists, shrugging one shoulder in a bad attempt at the chief acting casual, “I just need to talk to him about something.”  

“That means gossip,” Aurelia kisses his cheek and sits back down, “go, tell me all about it later.”  

“It’s not gossip,” Arvid saves his eyeroll until he’s outside with his mom, the door shut securely behind him.  It’s not gossip.  Someone has to keep an eye on the people around here while Eret and Aurelia are obsessed with timelines and getting things done.  It’s an important role in helping the chief out.  “What’s up?”  

“You went on that scouting trip with Fuse last week,” his mom flashes him a knowing look, like she’s not going to ask the question because that means engaging in official speculation about something that isn’t officially any of their business.  

“I did,” he points towards the trail along the coast, “I have to check in on the surveillance point, I could use a hand.”  

“Sure.”  

Arvid waits until they’re securely in the woods before looking around for anyone that might be listening.  There’s a purple terror perched in a tree watching them, but it’s not alert to anything, and Arvid tries to figure out how little he can say for maximum effect.  It’s just a guess, he doesn’t know anything concrete, but if there’s a chance of it being real, they need to be ready.  

A startled Eret is like an animal just let out of a cage.  Sometimes he attacks, sometimes he runs, and sometimes he darts back into the cage like it’s his den now.  

“So.  How did it go with Fuse last week?”  His mom pushes a little faster than she usually does, examining the wall of the squat surveillance hut and plucking some moss from the edge of the roof.  

“It was fine, we didn’t find much.  Eret’s connection is still there selling, we aren’t sure if he knows trappers are dropping his name.”  Arvid leans on the wall, arms crossed.  “Fuse was tired.  A little off, maybe.”  

“Throwing up?”  His mom raises an eyebrow, “kind of green?”  

“Throwing up constantly,” a little thrill of relief at the fact he can tell someone who might believe him rushes through him, “we took two breaks on a four hour flight.”  

“It could be a stomach infection, or something.”  

“Of course,” Arvid debates for a second, biting his lip.  This isn’t the best thing to tell his mother but it’s what really tipped his guess over the edge.  This and the delayed wide eyed expression that bloomed on Fuse’s face when he suggested that she might be afflicted by some sort of sickness that would affect her in a monthly way.  “I don’t know why that would make her vest tighter though.”  He half gestures at his chest and his mom frowns at him.  

“Why are you noticing that?”  

“I don’t know, Mom, maybe it has something to do with the fact that my wife really doesn’t want to be pregnant so she freaks out two days a month listing off all the symptoms that she thinks she has, only to be relieved a couple days later.”  

His mom smiles, “you’re so grown up.”  

“Mom.”  

“No, really, when did that happen?  I was worried, you used to be so--”

“Can we talk about Fuse, please?”  He doesn’t know why he was ever jealous of the attention that Eret gets.  It looks good from a distance but up close it’s a bit smothering.  Nice, but smothering.  

Ok, he’ll take it sometimes, in small doses.  

“She and Eret came over today after he got back.”  

“Yeah?”  

“She looked about as tired as he did, which, you know how he gets on a mission.”  

“I’d put him to sleep with a chokehold if I didn’t think I’d wake up with black powder in my boots,” he laughs and his mom frowns.  

“I don’t think I got how protective she is of him until...all this.  I always kind of thought--I don’t know, I grew up with her dad and he never put much thought into the chaos that he caused.”  His mom looks at him like she’s not quite sure if he’s actually grown up enough to hear what she’s about to say and he waves her on.  

“Yeah?”  

A few years ago, it was hard.  Being in this family was hard, loving the people that he loves was hard.  It seems like that’s still closer to everyone else than it is to him, though.  He can look at it with a sort of distance, like it happened to someone else.  And he guesses it really did, he was just a bystander to most of it.  

“I don’t know, I just keep thinking if I’d been that...pragmatic with engagements at her age, things might have been different.”  She turns apologetic before he can even react, “not that I’d change anything, you--”

“I get it, Mom.”  Arvid shrugs, “I think we all get that it was complicated.  Hel, look who I’m married to.”  

“I thought the whole Fuse fascination was rebellion, or something.”  She rubs her forehead with the back of her hand, “and I always kind of guessed she didn’t care about him the same way.  Especially after he went and got so much glory--”

“Right.  Glory,” Arvid pats his arm, “do you think he got that big all by himself?  I know I’m not the one causing marital fights at foreign docks anymore.”  

“And I can’t tell you how glad I am about that,” she sighs, “I still can’t believe you and Ingrid both beat Eret to settling down.”  

“Seems like the Gods are about to force his hand though,” Arvid pauses before moving forward with the part that Aurelia didn’t even let him get to.  “If she is pregnant, he’s going to have to marry her to avoid another heir fiasco.  I don’t think the Thorstons would sign over kids as easily as the Hoffersons did.”  

“Normally I’d be offended by someone calling Hoffersons reasonable, but in this case, you’ve got a point.”  His mom starts pacing, “who else knows?”  

“Aurelia, theoretically.  She didn’t believe me though, she said Eret’s been gone too much and she would have known by now.”  

“Well, she can keep a secret, so I’m not too worried even if she starts believing you.”  

“Wait, what?”  

“I’m thinking...the quieter we keep this, the better.  She can’t be very far along.  I thinks she just told Eret, from the way he was just fussing over her, like she couldn’t get upstairs by herself.  Maybe he’ll come to his senses on his own and make it easy on us, but if not, I don’t want him feeling cornered and acting stupid.”  

“What’s he going to do?  Run off and jump into a volcano?”  Arvid sees his Mom’s line of thinking and settles into the idea of lying, copiously, for months.  It’s not his favorite thing to do but he’s gotten better at it.  People haven’t forgotten their assumption that he’s stupid so they tend to take things he says at face value, especially if he’s careful about what he says to who and when.  

Someone has to keep the people unified while Haddocks shove them forward.  

“Exactly.  And as long as we keep him close and know where he is well...worst case scenario, I march Hiccup in there with the midwife and sign the contract between contractions.”  She sighs, “which I don’t want to do.  I want him to come to the right conclusion on his own here, but…”

“I don’t get his problem,” Arvid looks out at the calm ocean, “he’s seen Aurelia and I be married for years and nothing changed between us.  Well, things changed, but they got better.  And Ingrid’s never been happier than she is since she moved in with Smitelout.”  

“Yeah, and your dad seems pretty happy out on that boat.”  She purses her lips.  

There are some things Arvid knows not to touch, and on that scale, commenting on the hard-edged, warm way that his mom looks at his dad is right next to mysterious powder that makes Fuse flinch when sunlight hits it.  

“How much time do they have to figure this out?”  He changes the subject back to one he can speculate on.  

“A few months, max.  I’ll start looking into the terms of the marriage contract that Hiccup already has written up.  Tuffnut signed it years ago, it’s really just missing the ceremony and Eret and Fuse’s signatures, so it’s easiest if we keep prices and gifts the same.  It might say something about a house in there, Hiccup has teased it enough.”  

“You’re the chief’s wife and I’m the future vice-chief’s husband, I bet we can get permission to build a house somewhere.”  

She raises an eyebrow in question, demanding explanation with none of the threat as when he was little.  He likes his mom now more that he’s an adult and she treats him like one, they get along better this way.  Plus, it really doesn’t hurt that they’re both constantly roped into dealing with Haddocks that don’t like to felt dealt with even when they need it.  

“We need a better place to talk than a dilapidated old watch shed.”  

“True,” she nods, “I’ll talk to Hiccup about that too.”  

“Are you going to tell him?”  Arvid’s expression makes it clear what he thinks about that idea.  As rash as Fuse’s actions were, the chief crossed a line by feigning a betrothal to push Eret into marriage.  It’s not Arvid’s place to be mad, so he hasn’t brought it up, but giving him a more solid reason to push wouldn’t do anything to pull Eret back in the right direction.  

“No.  I mean, not yet.  Not until I’m sure he’s not going to do something stupid, like try and betrothe the boy who’s scared of marriage to someone he doesn’t know to try and force his hand.”  She looks pained and pauses before continuing, again, like she’s still mindful of her audience.  “I just keep thinking, what if Fuse had reacted differently?  What if Eret had--he could have ended up married to the wrong person and I wouldn’t have known how to help him.”  

“Well, Fuse did.”  

“And now we’re going to help her,” his mom crosses her arms, “and Eret, and Berk.  And that kid, if she really is pregnant, I’m not going to let my grandchild go through what Eret did.  And what you did.”  

“I’m fine, Mom.”  Arvid assures her, a little pleased to be smothered under more of that worry.  “We all came out of it ok, I think.”  

“Better than ok,” she sighs at him, “I don’t tell you enough, but I’m really proud of you.”  

“You’re just saying that because I’m going to help Eret and Fuse keep this secret while helping you build a secret house and figure out the rest of that contract without the chief knowing.”  

“That’s not the only reason I’m saying it.”