#(shakes him back and forth) this isn't you!!!! you're supposed to be orange!!!!!!!!

[sunflower567]

Callsign: Umbra Chapter 16: Football, not Soccer

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,679

Edited: ✅

Published: May 9th, 2025

Last update/change: June 30th, 2025

Previous Chapter

Marine Raider Training Center, Camp Lejeune, North Carolina: One Week Later

After General Barnes' surprise visit to Camp Lejeune, Imani and Simon’s days have been relatively uneventful. The two continued their current routine. Tonight, however, was a bit different and a bit more chaotic. All of that was a result of Imani getting injured by a recruit who was a bit reckless in the live training exercises that they were recently put in charge of.

Now they sat, Simon on the coffee table, Imani on the couch, and Alpha right next to them, watching the exchange. 

“I can’t believe you threw yourself over that idiot,” Simon mumbled as he helped clean her wounds on her hand and put new bandages on. 

“Yeah he’s an idiot for fucking around with a decoy grenade but that doesn’t mean let the kid get burned.”

“And now look at you with cuts on both hands because you braced yourself against broken gravel,” Simon added. 

“Yeah, not my finest moment,” Imani smiled, “Guess no cooking tonight. Unless you're also a five-star chef, and I didn’t know.”

“Mani, I burn popcorn. It’ll be best to keep me away from stoves.”

With a knowing smirk, Imani asked the obvious question, “Take out then?”

Simon shrugged as he began to gather everything and clean up, with Alpha following right behind him. “What do you want?”

“Pizza?”

“Sure.”

“With honey barbecue wings?”

“Why not?”

“With a soda?”

“That toxic shit you drink?”

“At least our fanta isn’t piss yellow!”

“Yeah, but at least ours isn't radioactive orange.”

“It’s suppose to be orange you fucking anarchist,” Imani exclaimed, “It’s supposed to be orange soda! Why is your orange soda piss yellow? It makes no sense at all! Shit looks like orange juice!”

After some back and forth, Imani and Simon eventually got their two large pepperoni and plain cheese pizzas with 5 mild and BBQ wings with a 2-liter Pepsi to settle their Fanta debate. And of course, Alpha sat nearby on his eating mat with three large pieces of meat in front of him. Even with Imani warning him to slow down, the young wolf didn’t seem to listen or care. With a sigh and a shake of her head, Imani joined Simon again with pizza and a drink. 

Since it was Simon’s turn to choose their entertainment for dinner. As a Manchester native, he decided to put on the Manchester United (Simon’s favorite team) vs. Fulham soccer game. Or as he kept correcting her football. 

“It’s soccer!”

“Football Imani, football,” Simon replied, “I don’t know why you call it soccer.”

“Alright then, let me school ya British boy,” Imani smirked as she put her plate down and turned her body to face the man, “The term soccer was developed in England. Y’all made it. In 1863, the Football Association was created, so Brits would say Let’s play by the association rules. But the word association is a bit long, so it’s shortened to assoc. But in the 1890s, British schoolboys tended to take a word's first syllables and add er to it. Kind of like how Rugby is called rugger.”

Simon wasn’t expecting a full-on history lesson, much less from someone not from there. But Imani has done nothing but surprise him since they first met. “Ok and?”

“And, the problem is with the word association. If it were used, then football would have become Asser. I guess boys did have some form of decorum back then. So they skipped the first two letters and went with soc. And that was the creation of the word and name for soccer.”

“How do you know this off the top of your head,” Simon asked in disbelief. 

“I love learning fun facts, ok. Let me know if you want to know,” Imani laughed, turning back to look at the soccer game, “Now, please explain the rules to me. Because I still don’t get it.”

“I thought you said you knew all the rules?”

“With American football, yes. Not this. All I know is yellow card means your pushing it and red card means get the fuck off the feild.” 

“Bloody fucking hell,” Simon sighed. For an hour of the game, Simon explained and answered Imani's questions. After the 90-minute game, Manchester United won 3-0. Something Simon was happy to see as he cheered for each score.

“Are you from Manchester, Si?”

“Born and raised Mani,” Simon answered as he put on another game. 

“I learn more everyday,” Imani smiled as she turned back to the TV. 

Like before, Imani and Simon returned to a quiet but comfortable silence. Eating their food and watching the soccer game. But as they watched and sat, only saying a few words concerning the game, the two would be afraid to admit that they enjoyed this moment of silence and saddened by how it might end soon. 

“Price, Gaz, and Soap should be back soon right,” Imani asked, realizing how much time has passed since the three men left. 

“Yeah, they’ll be back any day now,” Simon replied, “Why?”

“I’m gonna miss our little routine. Making dinner, watching movies, or watching soccer, and then cleaning up. It was nice.”

“Who says it has to end,” Simon asked, looking down at Imani. 

At first, Imani thought he was just saying it to say it like most men do. But when she looked up in his eyes, she saw he was serious. In the short month she’s known this man, He’s never lied to her once. Be a dick? Sure, of course, but never lied. Imani didn’t want whatever this was between them to end. As much as she knew this could be her downfall, she would have gladly fallen into the pits of Tartarus and wished to drop even more if she ever reached the bottom for this man. 

The same can be said for Simon. Since his mother and brother died, he had closed his entire world off. But this spitfire, arrogant, wild, kind, and adventurous woman managed to do what he thought was impossible, and that scared him. 

The two didn’t realize they were inching closer until they were damn near on top of each other. Imani noticed Simon’s eyes looking from her lips to her eyes and back. Reaching up slowly so as not to startle him like a scared animal, Imani put her hand on his exposed jaw since he still had his mask over his nose. She caressed it softly as she felt the slight stubble on it. She watched her hand move across his lower face intently, like it was the 11 o’clock news.  

Reaching his hand up and cupping her cheek, Simon returned her attention to him. The two were getting closer and closer. The world outside their little bubble fades to nothingness like the space between them. 

But if only that were true. 

As the two began to close their eyes, they both heard an urping sound. Imani’s eyes widened as her head whipped towards Alpha, and she saw him in his throw-up position. 

“OH FOR FUCKS SAKES ALPHA,” Imani exclaimed as she jumped off the couch and grabbed one of the plastic bags for their food and held it by Alpha’s mouth. 

But as Imani comforted Alpha and scolded him for eating his food too fast, Simon sat on the couch in disbelief. 

Did he just? Almost? Him? Simon was in disbelief. ‘I shouldn't have done that. I should've pulled away. I should’ve.’ Moving his mask back down to try and mask the feeling of her fingers, Simon watched as Imani walked out of the room to dispose of the throw-up bag and get the wolf some water. ‘Stupid. Bloody fuckin stupid.’ Simon looked down at his hands, the same hands that almost took him over a line he never wanted to cross. But all that trouble would have been worth it for those few seconds. But that scared him more than anything. That desire to hold her, kiss her, to have her, to lo-

Simon shook his head before his mind could race any further. Something like that can’t happen again. No matter how tempting she was, he was her superior and a team member.  

Walking back in the room with a bowl, Imani placed it on the floor and watched as her wolf chugged that water like he hadn’t drunk anything in his short but long life. 

Leaning down to get a whiff of him, Imani hoped she wouldn’t smell it. But as she got closer, she closed her eyes and sighed in defeat. She smelled it. That dreadful smell. That sour smell. 

“Hey Si,” Imani called out. 

“Yeah?”

Looking over her shoulder with a sorry smile, Imani pointed to the giant wolf, “Mind giving me a hand?”

For the next grueling two and a half hours, Imani and Simon washed Alpha. Even though Alpha was the toughest, most dangerous creature on this base, the big old fluff ball hated water. You would have thought he was a damn cat. Worst of all, Alpha also yelled, howled, and barked like he was a damn husky every bath time. Most of the time, it was hilarious, but after a grueling training session that had her injured, Imani and Simon were anything but amused. But as a team, they got the poor beast washed and dried off, even cleaning his massive teeth. 

But due to Alpha, the two needed another shower. As he stepped out of his shower and put on a new, clean pair of clothes, Simon noticed the spare skeleton gloves he kept on his dresser, just in case he lost or damaged his pair now.

Grabbing them, Simon looked down and rubbed his hand on the skeleton pattern. Then a thought came. After finishing getting dressed, Simon grabbed the gloves and walked back to the team room. 

As he walked in, he saw a now fully dried and puffy-looking Alpha sleeping right in front of the couch. Right above him was his owner, who was in her PJs, which consisted of a tank top, shorts, and, he had come to learn, a bonnet. 

Simon felt a slight shiver come over him as he remembered the look he got when he asked her why she was wearing a shower cap.  

Retaking his seat by the arm of the couch, Simon looked down at Imani’s rebanged hand. 

Noticing his gaze, Imani twisted her body slightly and put her hands out for inspection, “It’s all good now, Si, no need to worry.”

Grabbing them, Simon examined her handiwork himself. Not that he didn’t trust her, but he just wanted to make sure for his own state of mind. 

After seeing no missteps, Simon lets go of her hands with a satisfied huff. But before he could zone in on their now third game, Imani noticed the piece of fabric he brought. 

“What’s that for,” she asked, pointing to them. 

In his mind, Simon was glad she brought them up because he didn’t know how to without coming off as strange or out of character. 

With an almost inaudible voice, Simon put the skeleton-print gloves in her lap and said, “I got these for you.”

Looking down at them in surprise, Imani picked one of them up and looked between him and his little gift, “Ain’t this your spare Si?”

“Yeah, but I want you to have it,” Simon explained, “Don’t get the wrong idea. I just don’t want to keep patching you every time you wanna save another idiot.”

Knowing his harsh and blunt tone wasn’t supposed to come off the way it did, Imani looked down at the gloves with a small smile. And again, if she weren’t black, she knows her face would be flushed. 

Picking the gloves up, Imani put them on and used the little straps around her wrist and the little bead things tucked to adjust the finger size. 

Lifting them up, Imani smiled softly at the gloves and that familiar skeleton pattern she had come to admire. 

“Thanks Simon,” Imani smiled. 

“No problem,” Simon replied, a small smile hidden behind his mask. 

After that, the two were left in a comfortable silence again. As time and the night dragged on, Imani felt the day finally catching up to her. From the incident at training to wrangling in Alpha’s crazy ass, Imani didn’t even feel like she had the strength to move. 

Simon didn't notice her dilemma until he felt something land on his shoulder. Looking down, Simon saw Imani fast asleep on his shoulder. He knew he should have either woken her up or told her to go to bed. Two, move her to the other side of the couch. Or three, pick her up and put her in her room. But instead of probably something he’ll regret, he chose option four. 

Bringing her closer, Simon grabbed one of the couch pillows and put it behind his neck. Sitting on the couch with her head on his chest, Simon covered the two with the small blanket that barely covered him. But as long as it covered her, he was content. 

Looking down at the woman who slept on his chest, Simon felt like his heart and mind were at war. His mind was begging him to let her go. To protect her from the despair and suffering of being with him. He’s been through and seen too much to be in a relationship. And that type of innocence she has shouldn’t be stripped from her by a man who couldn’t even face his worst fears in his dreams or when he looks in a mirror. 

But in his heart, he can’t let her go. It was selfish, he knows, but for almost two weeks, he had the pleasure of seeing, learning, and understanding what type of person Imani was. She was understanding, goofy, kind, strong, and everything he could think of. No matter how hard he may try, he doesn’t believe he can ever let her go. And with this looming threat over her, he couldn’t help but bring her in even closer. 

Lying completely still as Imani began to move from Simon's grip, Imani stretched a bit, brought one of her hands up near his shoulders, and even hiked a leg up so it was across his lap. 

‘Fucking hell,’ Simon sighed as he looked down at Imani, chuckling in disbelief. Wrapping a sturdy arm around her to keep her steady, Simon looked down at the wolf and saw that he was constantly watching them. 

“Oi,” Simon said softly, “Don’t worry, I got your mum boy.”

Scratching his hand with his free hand to show his sincerity, Alpha believed Simon and lay back down in front of the couch, releasing a sigh as he got comfortable. 

Reaching down to give him one last scratch, Simon moved that arm behind his head as he watched the new game that came on.

Before he realized it, the sound of Imani and Alpha breathing slowly lulled him to sleep. His arm around Imani never faltered as her hand held onto his shirt. 

Later: 12:55 AM

“Fuckin hell, I’m beat sir,” Gaz groaned as he rubbed his sore neck, walking down the planes ramp. 

“Who you telling Kyle,” Price agreed, looking back at the younger soldier. 

After a grueling few hours, Price and Gaz finally returned to North Carolina after almost two weeks of what they would call a goose chase, but what General Shepherd would call getting ahead of the game. 

“You think Shepherd sent us out there for a reason or just busywork sir?”

“Either honestly. Gave us breadcrumbs at best. Suspected Nationalist who wants to cause trouble.”

“You think he knows more than what he told us, sir?”

“Maybe. Or maybe he only knows enough to be worried.”

“Yeah, and with us only finding a burnt warehouse and destroyed data we can’t trace, it must make him feel even worse.”

“That’s what worries me the most,” Price sighed as the armory finally came into sight, “Someone wanted to be seen just enough to get noticed, and then just up and leave.”

“Just gotta wait huh,” Kyle asked as he opened up the door. 

“Only choice we have.”

As the two walked into the armory, they were greeted with the sight of their Scottish teammate, who seemed to have returned from his mission not too long before them. 

“Hey Soap,” Kyle greeted, with Price giving him a nod as he dropped his bookbag on a nearby bench. 

“Gaz. Price,” Soap groaned as he sat himself down. 

“How was your mission Soap,” Price asked.

“Eh, nothin too grand. It was cauld as hell though.”

“I warned ya,” Price chuckled.

Not wanting to waste time and wanting to sleep in their own beds, the three men hurried to get into more comfortable clothes and logged their gear back into the armory’s inventory. 

As they walked to their private quarters, Soap thought aloud, “I wonder how those two got along while we were gone?”

Both Kyle and Price looked at him in confusion. 

“They should have been fine. They don’t seem to hate each other,” Kyle answered. 

“Aye, but they don’t like each other either,” Soap replied, “Those two were going at it in the gym before we left. And they didn’t seem happy to have been left behind. With each other no less.”

“Was the spar they had really that tense,” Kyle asked, getting an excited nod from Soap. 

“As long as they didn’t fuck up our quarters,” Price mumbled. 

As the three finally arrived at their destination, the place looked almost exactly as they remembered it—a lot cleaner, but nothing broken in sight. 

Walking to the fridge, Soap expected to see the few beers and random pieces of food. Instead, he saw a fully stocked fridge and even what seemed to be leftovers. 

“Hey Price,” Soap called out, “Ghost can’t cook right?”

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Well, someone did,” Soap mumbled as Gaz opened the oven.

“And someone got pizza and wings,” Gaz cheered as he pulled the box out. 

“Oh hell yeah!”

But as the two sergeants began taking out slices of pizza to heat up in the microwave, Price noticed the dim light of the TV in the Team room. 

Walking towards it, he expected to see Umbra or Ghost sitting down, watching whatever they watched. Properly eating some pizza or drinking. 

But he saw none of that. 

As he opened the door to the dark team room, the only light from the TV that now played some old football game, Price's gaze landed on Alpha first. The beast was sleeping on his back, paws in the air, snoring like a grown man. But as Price’s gaze traveled to the couch next to the grey wolf and closet to the wall, Price’s eyes damn near jumped out of his skull. 

His lieutenant and newest sergeant were right before him, sleeping on the couch in an embrace. 

Imani was sleeping completely on top of Simon, her one gloved hand resting on his chest next to her face. The other was hidden under the blanket draped over her, but it did not hide the outline of her leg that was hiked up on him.

And Simon had one arm behind his head and the other firmly securing Imani around her waist, a soft snore escaping his lips ever so slightly as he and Alpha all but took turns snoring as Imani lay unmoving as if this was just any other day. 

Based on what Soap said about the nature of these two relationships, Price never would have guessed they got this close in the last two weeks they’ve been gone. The way they all looked right now was very domestic, very intimate. You would have thought they were a loving couple with their dog, then two soldiers and a bio-weapon. 

But here Price was, looking down in shock as the man he’s known for years as a light sleeper, not moving a single inch at Price’s presence. As if the woman on top of him had him in a deep trance. 

“Oi, Price,” Soap’s voice came from behind him. Closing the door softly behind him, Price turned to look to Soap. 

“Yeah?”

“You want some pizza or some wings sir?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’ll take a slice.”

Noticing Price’s expression, Soap looked a bit concerned, “You ok? You seem…out of it sir.”

“No, I’m fine,” Price said as he softly punched Soap’s chest, “Don’t go in there though. Ghost, Alpha, and Umbra are in there asleep. Best not to disturb them.”

“Ah gotcha,” Soap said at first. Then he finally realized Price’s words, “WAIT TOGETHER?”

“No, and keep your voice down,” Price shushed, “Simon fell asleep on the chair and Umbra fell asleep on the couch with Alpha.”

“Ah,” Soap understood as he began to chuckle at the thought, “I don’t know why I thought that. Must be tired because that would never happen in a million years.”

Agreeing, the three soldiers sat down and ate their reheated pizza and wings. But Price’s gaze kept going towards that door and what lay behind it on the other side. 

He knows he should have probably woken them up and had them separate. But he couldn’t. He’s known Simon for years, and never had he seen him get close to anyone. The closet being Soap but that was because Soap damn near kidnap him and said you’re my mate now. 

But this was different and possibly more dangerous. For now, Price will just sit back and observe, see where this leads. Most likely, this was a one-off event, and they’ll get over it. But if it doesn’t and it starts to affect the team's efficiency, that’s where he’ll step it up. 

But as he and the rest finished and walked back to their room, he took one last look back and thought he hoped it wouldn't come to that. 

Next: Chapter 17

Arthur's Note

Thank you all so much for your patience and understanding! I'm sorry it took longer than expected, but hey, it was my sister's big day, and I had to show all out for my big sis!

Another fun fact: That whole bit about soccer and the Fanta bit was based on a real interaction I had with one of my British friends I met on PlayStation. We were littlery going back and forth and his response to what I said about that soccer was like 'How the fuck do you know that?" I crack up every time I think about that.

Imani and Simon's relationship is now heading into new and dangerous territory. How will Price address the relationship that could make or break the team if it continues and is allowed to bloom? Next, we'll see how Price handles it as new faces arrive for the last-minute prep for the cross-military training event.

Now, as a quick note, I am leaving for my study abroad next Friday (Yay!), so I'll be on the other side of the world exploring Southeast Asia for about two weeks. I'll most likely only post one chapter every Friday due to that and possibly being unable to get internet, but I'll let y'all know. And that will only be until I get back to my home state.

Thanks again for giving me and my story a chance, and I hope to see you all next week for chapter 17!

[ace-does-words]

something inside of me has got me tripping on you (and i can't explain it)

woe! sethpunk upon yee! contents include: shotgunning, making out, and semi-graphic smut! hope ya'll enjoy it! Ao3 Port: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63160018

Of all the people in the industry he didn't expect that it would be Punk he catches in an alley with a smoke in hand. The amber glow of the ember stands out against the cool colors of the wintered night. It feels mildly jarring to see him holding a cigarette. Sure, now that he's seeing it, he's not shocked per se, visually speaking it's a fit.

He just, didn't expect it.

Nobody expects something like this.

"What do you want, kid?" Punk exhales smoke as he speaks. The weight and the density of it is shocking.

"I was going on a walk, what are you doing out here?" Seth asked back.

Punk shrugged. "Getting some fresh air, what does it look like I'm doing?"

Seth bites his tongue.

"I'll ask again, what do you want, kid?" He forces emphasis on the words a little bit differently. Harsher. He actually looks at Seth this time too. He taps his fingers at the side of his smoke as he does so.

"Fresh air."

"I'm not giving you a hit."

"I wasn't asking for one."

Silence.

Seth leans himself against the cool wall next to punk. A foot apart, at least that much. He has more to say. He's not gonna say it though.

Punk takes another drag of his cigarette, long, deep, intent behind it.

"Your lungs are gonna collapse one day."

"I'm not painting them black with tobacco, it's a stress thing." Punk's probably lying. He rolls it back and forth between pointer and thumb, filter pressed between the two.

In the same breath, Seth can't argue that it isn't a stress thing without any real footing. He hasn't seen Punk with a dart between his lips until now. He wasn't meant to see it either considering the fact Punk made a point of walking relatively far from the hotel instead of merely leaning his head out a window.

Yet he doesn't even make any effort to hide it or deny it.

He just stands there and slowly inhales and exhales, keeping the orange glow alive in frigid air. There's a practiced rhythm to it. Seth watches out of the corner of his eye.

"Kid, if you're just gonna stand there then I'd suggest taking a hike." There's a bluntness to Punk's tone that's both familiar and foreign what with the softer edge.

Seth stays put. "Naw, this is a nice spot."

Punk hides a small groan of annoyance. He gestures around a little bit with the hand he holds the cigarette in. "Do you want a drag or something?"

"If you're offering." Sure, Seth had rules set out for himself. Sure, he shouldn't do this. But, there's a lot of things that shouldn't be done that get done anyways. Smoking sure as hell isn't the worst thing he could do.

There's a small halt.

Then the faintest uptick of a smirk.

"You want a hit?" Punk asked. Just to confirm. Just to make sure he's hearing right.

"That's what I said."

"Alright, sure, I'll let you have some. Just step a little closer."

Seth does as told like a dog. Trained to the point of perfect obedience.

He watches as Punk takes an inhale, deep. Then a hand on his cheek that somehow doesn't make him jump or veer away. Then lips almost on his and he bows to the notion, accepting it and reciprocating as smoke floods into his lungs. He can barely hold it for more then a second, he's not really certain of if he's supposed to.

This dumb fucking smirk is on Punk's face the whole while. He's watching Seth bite back coughing like his life depends on it. As if to rub salt in the wound he takes another easy hit without any struggle.

Seth slams his fist into his chest only once, just to rattle everything back into place. Get out the last remnants that seem to cling to his throat, he's not sure how else to describe it. A faint hint of strawberry rests on his tongue underneath the overtone of marijuana.

Punk waits until Seth looks settled back into leaning against the wall before speaking, "Want another?"

Seth shakes his head. "Why the fuck does it taste like strawberry?"

Punk shrugged, "Cheapest weed they had. Considering how ass the quality is I'm shocked you can pick up on the flavor."

"Flavor?"

A nod. "If they weren't charging a fortune for the lemon stuff I would've gotten that instead. It's got something to do with the way the plants reproduce, no two are the same."

Seth doesn't bother nodding.

"I'll ask you again," Punk started with, "Do you want another?" There's a similar force behind his words as earlier. It's a lot more playful though, if Seth had to describe it he'd say that at least.

There is no hesitance before Seth nods.

There's even less hesitance in accepting the motions of a hand on his cheek, even so far as to place his own atop it. The tenderness of lips barely brushed against each other and the heat of smoke curling down into his lungs. He eagerly allows it to spill down into him, holding it at least until Punk pulls back.

But he doesn't. Not right away. He stands there so close to Seth it'd look damning to anyone who saw it. Calloused fingers rest on Seth's face, breathing weighed down just a bit.

He retracts and Seth lets tension release. The soft sigh is somehow more gratifying with the smoothness of the smoke following his breath. Again, that strawberry taste, it was shocking the first time, now it's just nice.

"I miss Drew, Seth." It's not really that out of pocket. It's just the bluntness that catches Seth off guard. The fact Punk says it without looking at him.

Seth doesn't answer. He watches the road. No cars are driving by, only the faint rumbling hum of tires on asphalt from the main road. He nods in agreement to the notion though.

"It hasn't even been a month." There's a faint laugh on Punk's voice, full of shame towards himself. "God, he'd fucking laugh if he knew I miss him so much I'm getting high to ignore it."

Seth nodded, "He'd laugh at me too."

Punk gives an amused snort, "You aren't the one trying to smoke it out of your skull."

"I'm the one trying to walk it off at midnight in this weather," Seth countered with despite the haze in his head. It felt heavier then usual.

There's a beat where Punk just waves around the smoke a bit, nearly putting it out.

He sighs.

"Look, we really shouldn't be doing this, but—"

Seth grabs Punk's face. He was going to speak, but it just sorta, faded out of mind what he was gonna say. He gives a look, a quaint "yes" rests upon it.

"Yeah, yeah let's do another round. Won't hurt anybody." Nothing but relief rests on Punk's voice.

Seth watches with predatory intent as Punk raises the lighter once again. The amber glow had dimmed itself to being near entirely gone with Punk waving it around and failing to stoke it with an inhale. The gentle glow and the knowledge he'll have his lips so close to Punk's one more time draws Seth in like a moth.

The slant to his posture goes unmentioned as Punk pockets the lighter and raises up the cigarette to his lips.

He glances to Seth. Glances to Seth's lips, then up to his eyes. Oh he is definitely feeling it, what a lightweight. His inhale is long, fully aware of the eyes resting on him as he does so. When he grabs Seth's face, Seth leans into his hand the same way a cat would.

He holds eye contact every step of the way that he can. Seth eagerly returns it, watching, waiting, enjoying every single delicious second. The roiling heat of shared breath warming frigid lips every second it's retained. Punk doesn't dare raise his hand off of Seth's face even after he exhales, just holds close.

Seth gives the smallest little sigh, no more smoke, just the puff of hot air meeting cold air. It's a pleased sound. "Kiss me," The words slip out of him without realizing the weight of them, lips loosened with the marijuana.

And Punk does.

He does it without thinking. If he took even a second to think he'd say no and make some remark about getting Seth back to the hotel with a pizza. It was a split second decision, not even a decision really. A reflex would be more accurate, given an offer and accepting before the implications fully registered. He just did and he won't stop.

Seth returns the notions, leans into it, let's the richness of the moment wash over him. Blunt nails trail on his face and his jaw as Punk kisses. He kisses like he'll never do it again and Seth can't blame him for the carnivorous bite to the motions. Once in a lifetime, never again, this they both can verify to be true.

Still, Seth giggles when Punk pulls back. It's just fucking funny, is it not? In a weird way it is pretty funny that they both miss Drew so much they're kissing. They're smoking and they're kissing in an alley and it's all because of one idiot getting shifted to the other roster.

"You should fuck me."

Again, words without thinking. Seth doesn't bother denying them though, nor does he make any attempts to pull a no homo. He means it far too much to try that. Even if it took getting high to drag that devastating truth out of him, it's the truth in all of it's raw glory.

Punk laughs this time. It's hard to read whats behind it, even if his senses weren't dulled Seth doubts he'd be able to tell whats going on behind Punk's eyes. He takes one last pitiful drag before putting out the cigarette on his hoodie, ratty and damp with snow.

"I could, yeah," Punk said and it really did sound like he was considering, "But should I?"

He waits for Seth to answer yes as if he doesn't know the professional answer is no.

As if he's looking for a genuine reason, a genuine excuse to do so.

He just needs the okay.

"Yeah, you should."

-/-/-/-

Punk's teeth are so very sharp on Seth's throat. Sharper gasps fall out of him as hands work him so damn skillfully.

"You were right." Punk's voice is a murmur against his throat, warm only where Punk rests. Otherwise the winter air from open windows bites at his skin in such an odd way, too hot without too cold with.

"I was?" Seth beats out the daze in his voice, grasping tight onto reality however he can. He needs this like he needs air. He's needed it for so long and every contact of Punk to his skin anchors him further in reality and pushes him closer to the tipping point simultaneously.

Heat blooms under his skin wherever Punk touches him, furls and coils like vines and snakes. Caramel rich, molten gold under his skin. Every single frisk and brush and slightest press leaves him whimpering like a dog.

Punk nods. His everything is slow when he does. "Yeah, yeah you were so fucking right." He's still deliberate with each motion, whether or not his words are as precise is up for debate. Everything is less sharp right now, less accurate, but in a good way.

All the lines sorta blur, they blend. The distinct endings mix and muddle with hands in hair and teeth on flesh and pleasure rolling in waves. Rocking back and forth into each others motions without fail. Whether time is slowing to a halt or racing by is lost to them in a light so low it may as well be candlelit.

They're here late in the night. Together. Swapping spit. Meeting in the middle. As one might be too far, but Seth would push it if he wasn't absolute jello currently.

Punk's teeth sink into the crux of his throat. The act is rife with want and desire and the fact that they can't get any closer then this but he should try. He should try because he'll never be allowed to try this again, never in the same bed as Seth in the way way. He knows this to be true more intricately then he knows the back of his hand.

Seth answers with a breathy moan that trails off into the giggles he's been spilling the entire night. If he tried to cohere any words he'd sound so fucking desperate, wanting more and more because it's all over after this. One chance to get everything and only that, right here and right now, giggly and high and loose and happy as he thinks he'll ever be.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Black Light 1

Warnings: namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: someone said August.

Part of The Club AU

It's retro night. You're looking bomb, feeling fly, ready to get groovy. In a manner of speaking. Platforms, short skirt, a crop top with a faux fur bolero. You are channeling your inner Cher Horowitz.

It's your nineteenth birthday and you can drink your ass off. At last. It's your time. The best days of your life are ahead of you.

Not only are you vibing, you have your posse, your trio of thots. You're not the queen bee but you're a great sidekick. The Regina George of the group is definitely Amanda and her svelte blond hair, but you'd say Kamlai is more the Gretchen Wieners than you.

You smile at the bouncer, a man with a derisive look on his eye that makes you want to dissolve into sand or dust. Whatever. Maybe a nice eerie fog so you can float away. You only catch half his face as he keeps in the shadows, waving in coeds and a few middle-aged creepers.

You wish you got the nice one with the belly. You wait for the silent man to scowl at your ID. He holds it up beside you before he flicks it back to you.

"Thank you, sir," you catch the plastic card against your chest, his eye glinting towards your cleavage.

"Go," he growls and waves forward the next eager club goer.

"Oop, okay, sorry," you make a gesture like Betty Boop, raising your shoulders as you kick a foot up, "have a great night!"

He grumbles and you quickly run to catch up with Kam and Amanda. The pulsing music embraces you and you feel the energy flow into you. This night is gonna be awesome!

"You guys have to make sure to get pics of me!" Amanda hollers above the beat, "with the cutest guy I can find. Seth can eat his heart out."

You shake your head, shrugging off your disappointment. It's supposed to be your day but somehow Amanda always finds her way into the spotlight. You're not going to worry, you're all about fun!

You get your first round of drinks and find a seat. Amanda drinks her pink martini as she scopes out the room. She blows a nonplussed raspberry.

"Ugh, not finding any hunky fuckboys," she rolls her eyes, "I mean, I need someone super fucking hot."

"Don't we all," Kam giggles as her eyes rove, "how about an older guy?"

"Hm?" Amanda gives a pout and twists around to follow Kamlai's gaze. She tilts her head back and forth.

"Not too bad, I'll take the middle one," she winks, "you two can fight over who doesn't get specs."

You look at Kam then back to the three men along the wall. Amanda must be referring to the one with the spiky hair and glasses. He's cute but you're not really into the leering type.

"It's my birthday," you say as Amanda's already on her feet.

You peek at the third guy, sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes. He's not bad. Besides, you just have to dance, Amanda can do all the wants but you're not that kinda gal. You're too damn weird to be the hookup type.

"Fine," Kam rolls her eyes, "I'll take the nerd."

🥂

You grab the stranger's hands and once more drag them off your ass. You put them on your waist and give him a look. Dude, really, take a hint.

Well, he's not a stranger stranger. His name is Cole and he likes flowers. Adorable but still, a bit too old for you.

You turn, an excuse too look around at your friends as you shimmy your hips. Kam isn't as detered as she originally let on and Amanda is gone. Alright…

"How about a drink?" Cole startles you as he leans forward to yell in your ear, "I think I owe the birthday girl at least one."

"Oh, uh, alright," you turn back to him, "sure, I needa sit down anyway."

You follow him to the bar and wait by his arm as he orders. Fuck Amanda, really? Where is she?

"Here," Cole turns back to you, handing over the bright blue cocktail, "birthday special."

You nod and smile. You look at the slice of orange hooked over the edge and sniff the sweet drink. You put your lips to the straw but before you can take a sip, it's torn out of your grasp.

"Hey fucker," the snarl bites through the breakdown of the Cyndi Lauper classic.

A large figure pushes between you and Cole, throwing the drink in his face as he sputters. You gape in surprise and look up as the bouncer stands between you and your erstwhile dance partner. He grabs the smaller man by the collar, knocking his drink to the floor.

"Get the fuck outta here."

The bouncer shoves Cole into a stool and rolls his shoulders. You have no idea what's going on. Cole gulps and looks between you and the large man, himself not by any means small but taking a quick hint. He scrabbles away as you check your feet, a few drops of alcohol on your shoes.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to take drinks from strangers," the bouncer turns with a bark, "fucking bimbo."

You frown at the insult but can't muster a response before he storms away. You peer down at the puddle of the cocktail then spin to see the bouncer disappear through the door. Huh, he must've seen something you didn't. You should've known Cole was a creep. You just hope his friends aren't the same.

[undertale-writing-times]

🎊 w/ soul seeing as he's now apart of the ask list? hehe don't know if it's possible yk but still :)

It totally is! Cause they only have one soul, so they can totally have a babybones.

Well today you found out something a little… strange.

You were pregnant, and you had a feeling that it was with your datemate, Soul. Well of course it was with him, you haven't been with anyone else! The only thing was that he was one body but two minds, and that made you wonder exactly… who was the other parent?

Would it just be Soul or the brother too? Did the babybones have two parents or three? You thought about that for a while before shaking your head and started to think about other stuff.

How was Soul going to react to the fact that you were pregnant? Was he going to be happy or was he going to be mad? You didn't exactly see why he would be mad about it, it isn't like you DECIDED that you wanted to be pregnant.

You didn't have that ability but damn if it wouldn't make things easier… you paced around your house thinking about what you were going to do, what you were going to tell him.

That was until you heard the door open and close, and you look over to see him walking in, stretching his arms above his head yawning. "Hey Soul" he nods his head to you in a greeting, rubbing at his sockets with his hands. "How was it with the others today?"

"Tirin'" he says with a little laugh. It sounded like Nyhaha. "But oh so fun!" His eyeshines changed orange, "I was able to cook my famous noodles with Axe. He was an amazing person to work with" The eyeshines went back to blue and he chuckles, "Which was pretty tirin too…"

You snicker, shaking your head at him. You were pretty sure that they would go back and forth for a while if you let them so you butt in, "Well why don't you lay down? I have to talk to you about something."

Soul nods and walks over to lay down on your bed, holding his hands on his tummy. He was wearing his normal hoodie, it was two different colors down the middle, one red and one the normal blue. It looked hand sewn. You remember him telling you that he sewd it together, and it had a white heart shape on it. Something that you thought was a little cute.

"Now, what's goin' on? What you need?" he looks at you, tilting his head to the side a little.

You rest your hands on your own stomach, tapping your fingers. You were trying to figure out exactly how you were supposed to tell him. I mean you can't just come out and say that you were pregnant, right? It didn't work like that!

You breathe out slowly shutting your eyes. "You know how I've been acting a little strange? Mostly with food?" You hear him let out a mhm sound so you continue, "Well I think I know what's going on"

"Do you not like my cooking?" he asks, and just by the tone of voice you knew that that was the other soul so you let out a little laugh and you shake your head.

"No no, nothing like that… I uh I think I might be pregnant" You say, opening your eyes and looking at them.

You see his eyeshines go dark, empty black sockets, then he sits up and you felt something and heard a little bling sound. You see a see through white screen appear in front of you, the writing was backwards so you couldn't really make it out.

"Whoa" Soul mumbles.

"What? What is this? Soul?" You look at the box, frowning.

"Heh…" he shakes his head, laughing softly and sends the box away, "Don't worry don't worry, I just did a check on ya and you're right, you have an extra soul… well two"

"I got… we're having twins?" You ask, and he nods, which made you chuckle shaking your head putting your hands over your face. God… how ironic.

"Ahh!" He hops up and pulls you into a hug, spinning, "Y/n! We're pregnant!" He nuzzles his skull against your face, laughing. You giggle hugging back. Well… At least they both seemed pretty happy?

[speedygal]

Publicist

Companion piece to; the one that lived, the one that got to grow old, final boss, A Changed Negatron.

Alternate Universe - Jim Starling's Darkwing Duck Television Show

Characters: Darkwing Duck, Negaduck, Original Characters.

(this is a moment that happened in any variation of this reality)

-------

A middle aged duck ran through the rain with a yellow umbrella that made him stand out against the sea of black umbrellas. He even had a yellow raincoat that made him stand out in the mist and the dreary dull theme in the atmosphere held in the tightly compacted city.

He closed his umbrella once entering a restaurant that didn't have many people.

"Mr James Quackville, this way."

James held the umbrella on his arm as he walked on following the server.

"I wasn't aware that I had a meeting with anybody."

"He asked for your spot specifically at the time you normally come in."

"...hmm... who?"

"You can ask yourself, Mr Quackville."

The server paused then he looked over spotting a duck, identical, save for the light pink shirt instead of a salmon orange shirt. He had a purple raincoat seated beside him with a hat that looked like a fedora peeking out of the clump.

"Hello..."

His own voice, his own eyes, his own face, his own style of clothing, albeit smug. And so arrogant. Like a crime boss. It was unnerving being greeted by his positive counterpart.

"Mr Quackville."

James sat down into the booth.

"Call me James." James said.

"And you can call me Darkwing Duck."

James stared at his counterpart with a glare.

"You're joking."

The young duck shook his head resting his elbows on the table.

"It's incredible!" His counterpart exclaimed then stretched his arms out. "We look identical!"

The counterpart pointed back and forth as he leaned forward.

"Like we were separated at birth."

James rapped his fingers on the table. He didn't know.

"I don't suppose you've got a ulterior motive revealing the truth, Mr Duck." James said.

"Mr Quack." was the correction by Edward. "Edward Quack."

James leaned forward with a glare.

"Mr Quack, this isn't a 'i eat with other people' moment." he stretched his hand out then clenched it. "If I wanted to I would be eating with my wife and my egg."

Edward smiled back at him as he rubbed his beak.

"I have a job offer." Edward said.

"Am I going to regret it?" James asked.

"You'll be paid..." Edward let it hang there. "handsomely."

"Tricking a supervillian." James assumed then rolled his eyes.

Edward shook his head.

"I need a publicity manager and someone who can attend important media events in the day."

James slowly leaned back.

"I am not interested in politics, ceremonies, or sticking around to deal with the aftermath of a caper."

James folded his arms as he scowled.

"You come to me about that?" James lifted a brow.

There was a slight moment of pause.

"I have a family to get back to at the end of the night."

"And it isn't night isn't it."

"It's the afternoon."

"Why approach me now? Are you gonna ask me to take up the mask? Willing to stop the foolish thing you're doing fighting Megavolt."

Edward lowered his head, his fingers resting on his shoulders, sighing.

"St Canard needs a mascot, James." Edward said.

James glared back at his counterpart.

"To do the police's job for them!" James was fuming. "Wasting hours, getting hurt, showing how incompetent---"

"Supervillians are a whole another level that the police cannot deal." Edward interjected.

"Normal crime." James hissed.

"The city doesn't have the programs to help those people." Edward said, imply.

"Then why don't they?" James asked.

Edward sighed, shaking his head, then briefly closed his eyes.

"It's not a popular idea." Edward reminded.

"Like a duck the city actively despises."

Edward smiled at the comment.

"As I was saying before being rudely interrupted." He leaned forward then back as he proceeded to talk with his hands. "A heroic, cool, and available mascot in the day time!"

James squinted back at Edward.

"Someone who visits sick kids, someone who can deal with autographs and papparazi, someone who would LOVE the cameras."

James was quiet for a solid moment with his arms folded.

"You're really too soft." James complained.

"People tell me that I'm too rough." Edward said, folding his arms.

"Someone who hates your fame is gonna kill you instead of the real ire." James pointed toward Edward

"Meh." Edward shrugged. "Never gonna happen."

Practically mirroring each other on oppossite ends of the booth. One was relaxed and the other was scowling.

"Then how do you think you're gonna die?" James asked.

"Fighting a supervillian." Edward said.

James shook his head, disappointed, sighing, resting his elbow on the table as he leaned forward.

"And you are too idealistic."

Edward lifted a brow.

"And?..."

"I need the money." James confessed.

"Drinks?" The waiter arrived, drawing their attention.

"Coco fizzy water, please." Edward said

"Like some Coo-Coo Cola." James said.

"Appetizers?" the waiter jotted down on the notepad.

"Nachos!" Edward said.

"Breadsticks." James said.

"I'll be back shortly."

The tall dog departed the area then the duo's attention shifted back.

"I do love the attention..." James said.

James cupped the side of his beak as he looked on and a couple of customers departed. James planted his hands on the table.

"Say you have doubts." James said.

"No doubts about turning a bad man into a good one." Edward beamed.

"... Megavolt ceasing his criminal activities." James said, condescendingly, between a snarl.

The beaming was replaced by a grimace and his eyes became full of bitter sorrow.

"I try not to think about Megavolt." Edward said, softly.

Edward looked tired as he rested his purple umbrella between his legs and balanced his hands on the top of the curved handle. He looked older, emotionally, not a middle aged duck.

The waiter returned then deposited the drinks on to the table and the appetizers.

"Do you---"

"Taco salad with shrimp." Edward said.

"Ribs and potato and gravy and bacon." James said.

"We'll be right on it." the waiter said.

"Thanks." Edward said as the waiter departed.

James continued to stare back at Edward for a long moment.

"I never followed you after the very pleasant surprise."

Finally, James sat back down to the seat then took out a notebook and jotted down onto it. He dropped the pen on the table with a clatter then leaned back.

"You are starting something you cannot stop, Darkwing Duck." James reminded.

Edward leaned forward on the table right into the cloud gray spotlight emitting from a light fixture above their heads.

"Isn't that wonderful?" Edward asked, then smiled, his eyes twinkling.

James stared back as he tapped on the table, unimpressed. James slid the paper forward.

"My number." James said.

Edward looked down upon the number then slid it into his rain coat pocket.

"And mine, too." Edward said.

Edward took the notepad and pen, jotted, then handed it back.

"We have a lot to discuss, Darkwing."

"Hey!" James's head bobbed up.

"Have to start somewhere so it won't be weird to be called that..." Edward reminded.

James looked aside then back.

"...What about when I show up?" James asked, cradling his hand beneath his beak. "After solving cases, saving the day, leaving the scene; it's all unpredictable."

James picked up his glass then sipped it.

"You can stalk me." Edward suggested.

James lowered the glass then smiled and lifted both of his eyebrows.

"You're in luck!" James exclaimed, raising the glass up. "I love following people!"

[irepookie]

Wake up Call, Infinity Ch.3

Summary: QUEEN AU WHERE ROGER (ROWAN)IS A19 YEAR OLD SINGLE DAD TRYING TO FIND A PLACE IN THE WORLD OF MUSIC

WARNINGS: iNTENSE FLUFF AND SOME SWEARING

Chapter 3: Row has to start stepping out of the bubble him and his daughter have been living in while in the safety of the hospital, and break the news to his best friends. 

John- Rick

Fred-Len

Bri- Terry

Rog- Rowan

When Row had hung up on Len mid sentence, the boys had been confused. Then again, he was at his mom's house and they had heard her infamous shout of <<ROWAN EUGENE QUEEN>> that always preceded an argument, so they let it go. But then he didn't turn up to rehearsal, or called back for the rest of the afternoon. Or the following afternoon. Or for rest of the week. And that was unlike him. He always called back. (Well, most of his former one night stands would disagree with this). Let's just say he always called his band mates back. Sometimes drunk, at 4 AM, Thus leaving  a wakeful Terry with 2 hours to spare nothing to do but to start revising for whatever exam he had ahead.

So, when they didn't know of him, they went directly to the village's police station, to see if he was locked up, and if not, to report him missing.

"What if we ask Gina?" Rick suggested

"I'd rather check the morgue first, thanks" Len said.

"Well, what else can we do? Huh?"

"Audition new drummers"

"Seriously boys. Let's go."

They knocked on Row's childhood home. Gina opened, with messy hair, a dressing gown and slippers

"Oh, hello boys. He ain't here" she took a drag of the 4th cigarette she had smoked that day despite it only being 8:30 AM.

"Where is he?"

"He isn't at home?"

"We've checked and there's no track of him. We haven't seen him in 7 days"

She sighed "in the hospital, I think. If he hasn't left already"

"Hospital?" All three said simultaneously

"What happened?!" Len added

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

She smiled, mockingly "Wow, father of the year isn't so sure after all"

"What?"

She laughed bitterly. If he hadn't told his best friends yet, it maybe meant he was reconsidering the whole thing. Maybe common sense had hit him after the first stinky nappy.

"You know what? Come in."

"Oh we were actually in a rush..."

"You wanna find him or not? Come in, I don't bite

"Alright" all three musicians entered somewhat awkwardly in the house where so many sleep overs had taken place, back in the day.

She led them to the kitchen, where the phone was, and dialed.

Callie was the closest to the phone "Row? Yes, I'll get him"

She made her way to the room where the Prune had been moved in the previous evening, due to her favourable evolution and the need of free incubators.

She grinned at the scene: the 6 day old infant was dozing against her dad's bare chest, supported by his hands -which seemed huge in comparison to her small figure-. His eyes were closed, but Callie could tell he was awake as his left hand was stroking her head. It was adorable, and they seemed at such peace -poor Row had spent his first whole night on night watch and was exhausted-.

"Row" she called softly

He opened his big blue eyes in acknowledgement.

"You have a call"

"A call? From who?" He whispered back, before looking down at the baby to make sure she was asleep

"Didn't say. But she was kind of irritated"

"Oh, that's mom then" he smiled sarcastically, but didn't move a bit.

"You aren't gonna get on the phone?"

"I don't know. She doesn't deserve our attention does she?" He cooed

"How bad can it be?"

"You don't wanna see my bad side. And I don't ever want her to see it either"

Callie smiled "Go. I'll stay with her"

He groaned in annoyance. He was so comfortable, and he didn't want to get up.

"C'mere darling" he mumbled, detaching his daughter from his lap and carefully lying her on the cot

He exited the room and walked to the phone "What?"

"Row! Where are you?" The three voices of his best friends greeted him from the other side

"Oh, hi guys I... How did you get this number?"

"We're calling you from your mum's. She says you're in hospital" Terry's soft voice said worriedly

"You've gone fucking AWOL! Where are you man? We're worried as hell" Len scolded

"Oh yeah, hehe been..."he scratched the back of his head "been pretty busy" He glanced in the direction of his daughter's room, where he saw Callie readjusting the yellow teddy bear he had bought her the second day.

"Busy? With what?" Rick inquired

"It's... It's a long story."

"Well we've got time"

"Shouldn't you be in uni?" Row said in hopes they'd have to run into class

"It's Sunday, Row!"

"Oh is it?" He had lost track of time, honestly

"C'mon! Spit it"

He sighed "Alright, huh..." He tried to think of where to start. He couldn't really think much tho; his brain was pudge at that moment. "I met a girl in..." He counted nine months back from February "June?" No wait Piper was premature so it could be July or... Then it hit him. "No, remember that afternoon when we set up that Live Aid session in your parents backyard, Len?"

The boys nodded. July 13th. How could they forget? It had been dubbed the best Summer Party of 1985 in town. The four of them had tried to get tickets, but they couldn't even afford a ticket to London in the first place. And so, They watched the whole show with four TV screens around the yard instead, and the whole village had joined them, arguing on which performance had been the best.

Of course, all four members of Symbols agreed that it had been Queen.

"But they signed up late" someone said 

 "Yea, they came late to the party" another agreed. 

"So what? They rocked the party! You just say that because you like U2 better"

 "Like you prefer Queen!" 

 "But we've got a point! Regardless of how much we like them, they were, objectively, the best performance" /

"Objectively? Bullshit!" Anne Williams snapped "They played the same shit they always play! And Bono was a true gentleman, helping that girl who was getting crashed by the crowd."

 "Yea, I'm sure Freddie wouldn't have given a shit, so full of himself and his teeth up his~" /

Dennis Phelps couldn't finish his sentence as a  someone tossed him a Converse, which hit his head. A young woman, with Bowie-like orange dyed haircut approached, with  a bare left foot and the matching shoe on the other 

 "You know nothing about putting up a good show then. Also, you mess with Freddie Mercury again and next time the shoe will be stuck up your ass" she told Dennis, retrieving the item "I mean, it's clear who I'm rooting for but Queen really did what had to be done. Geldof told them all to play the hits, because that's precisely why they're hits: they work. Other artists, like your boyfriend Bono and his band played new material, as if this was their concert. And it's not. Even though they signed up on time and whatever. They took a risk, crowd didn't know the song, they lost interest. But Queen had common sense: they played the hits, the anthems, and people connected with them. And it's not about Freddie or him hypnotizing Wembley. It's having some common sense. And not even you two knew the lyrics of U2s new song. So shut the hell up"

Row had liked her instantly. That's a girl who knows the stuff.

They exchanged a smile, a wink and a complicit nod

"We must join our forces to help out our friends under pressure, don't we?" She said

"Oh yes, Bowie girl." Terry remembered

"Yep."

"So what's with her?" Rick said

"Well, that.. she..." He cut himself off when a cry echoed in Pip's room "Gotta go, guys. I'll call you back"

"No! Row!" Len said, but the line went dead

"Shit"

"What happened?" Gina, who had watched the scene from the door frame, -and was about to finish her 6th cigar in a row,- asked

"He rambled about that Live Aid day, and a girl he met there"

"Did he say her name?"

"No. He had to go suddenly. It's all weird"

"Yea, well... Life is weird, boys"

"I don't understand. What's going on? Can't you tell us, Mrs. Queen?"

"Oh no. No. It's not my story to tell. Nor my business. I tried my best, but that stubborn bastard didn't listen. I'm sorry" she said

"But is he okay?" Len asked, concerned

Gina grinned, at how despite it all, the four boys would stick up with each other to the end of the world "Yes. He's fine."

"Row, are you okay?" Callie said, as the drummer wordlessly took the bundle from her

"Yes, yes. Why wouldn't I be?" He said, sitting with the fussy baby

"You're a bit pale"

"Oh I... Nothing. Just... I'm nervous honestly. Because we're about get discharged and I'm gonna be alone with her and I'll have to dad around all by myself and... And everyone will know..."

"Know what?"

"About her"

"And is that a problem?" Callie crossed her arms

"No, I mean... No, of course not. But everyone will ask questions and judge me and... I'm worried I will end up believing them more and fuck it all up"

"Believing what?"

"They'll start telling me it's a mistake, that I'm gonna screw everything up and that I won't be able to be a good dad and I'm afraid it will become true"

"So you're saying that how people think of you is gonna affect the way you... How you called it? Dad around?"

He nodded "Well, answer me these, will you? Have you, in this moment or at any point during these seven days, thought you are making a mistake?"

He looked at the tiny bundle and shook his head.

"Are you willing to always do your best for the shake of Piper?"

He nodded, noticing he was unconsciously rocking her back and forth.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Look I haven't exactly been a role model in... Well anything. One thing my mom's proud of is that I'm not into drugs. Everyone who has a daughter in the block hates me. So how am I supposed to raise one?"

"Exactly how you've been doing the last six days"

"Yes but I have you guys. And the medics, and the equipment. But there I'll be all alone"

"You will never be alone. You have the friends you've told me about. And your mum...Maybe the little darling is gassy"

"Oh stop about my mum" he carefully changed the Prune to an upright position and began to rub circles on her back without even hesitation. Wow he was actually getting a hold on the burping stuff.

"Yes. Your mum will eventually come to terms with the lil'raisin. I'm sure." She said, whist handing him a muslin to place on the baby's range of accuracy

"Oh you don't know her"

"I know she's a mum. Your mum and mother's rarely ever turn their backs on their children for good"

Row looked at the baby, then raised an eyebrow at Callie

"I said it's rare. There are obviously exceptions" she said "And believe me you're better off. Also, she did call. That's gotta Mean  something"

"I didn't speak with her. Just the band. They were at her place, yeah but... I don't know. I'm not gonna beg on my fucking knees..." He was interrupted by a burp I his ear. Damn, that was a big one. He'd need 2 beers to produce such a loud one.

"Easy, tiger." He laughed "Goddamn it, where did that come from, huh? You're unbelievable" he praised, while getting the muslin out his shoulder and handing it to Callie

"And a neat one too. 10/10." She chuckled

"Atta girl. That's my lil'raisin. Yeah, good girl" he cooed, bringing her to face him, before she started fussing and he nested her again on his chest "Aw, don't cry honey. Please. You're alright. C'mon" he begged. She settled down quickly, and he sighed in relief.

"The point is, that here is like... I feel safe, you know? It's like another world. Another life. And now I have to fit her in my every day, and be in charge and stuff, and... I'm not sure I'm ready"

"Parents are never ready to take them home. Not even those who had 9 months of preparation, and parenting classes, and a nicely decorated and supplied nursery. No one feels ready. But nerves are good. Nerves mean that you care. Worrying and doubting about your ability to be the dad your child needs is precisely what's gonna make you raise your game. Just one last question: are you 100% that you love that lil one with all your heart?"

He looked at his daughter, who had gone back to sleep with the rambling of his voice, as his hand still caressed head and grinned "Hell yeah" Otherwise, how could he explain the way his chest seemed to be holding two hearts whenever she was in his arms? Or how, when he had to leave for the night it felt as though both those hearts were ripped away from him? Or how else could he have turned this goddamn sappy? Yep. That was the proof.

"Then that's all the two of you will ever need. She won't care if you two are rich or live in a cardboard box, or if she wasn't in your initial plans, or that she doesn't have a mom. As long as you love her and make her feel like it."

He nodded, and rested his lips on her soft scalp.

"Right, I Gotta get to another patient. Call'em back."

He stood up, this time taking his Prune along, and went to the corridor where the phone was. Making sure her head was safely cradled along with the rest of her small body on his left arm, he tucked the phone between the right shoulder and neck and dialed their shared place's number

Rick picked up "Yes?"

"I'm a dad" he said simply, and waited for his reaction. 

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I’ll post the picture separately in order to preserve my goddamn sanity cause Tumblr is being a pain in the arse!!!!!

How do you guys do it? Am I the only one who needs 5 bloody tries to post this things?