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sinkingtime · 1 year ago

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Remaking the DCU 3 - Enter the Multiverse, kind of

Part 1, Part 1 and a half, Part 2, Part 2 and a half

This one is more vague, as I have vastly exceeded the original scope of the idea, but I still have a few stories I want to get to.

Also, the thing I was insecure about including, which nobody said anything either way so I will proceed under the assumption that it's perfectly ok. That's how that works, right?

We should ostensibly be in the "space arc" that I wanted to get Supergirl off-world to introduce. But before that, I have one more Earth character I'd like to have, right after Red Daughter of Tomorrow.

But before that, let me fill in one of the blanks I had before.

But before THAT, minor insignificant addendum.

...about Azrael

Jean-Paul Valley Jr, the Angel of Vengeance of the Holy Order of Saint Dumas, was the one to get Supergirl's hair. There isn't such an order, he's just a hitman who calls himself that.

His sword is actually on fire, so maybe that could establish her hair was a little super after all. I think preferably not, though, on the grounds that the Legion would deem hair useless and not bother modifying it.

Anyways, the point is that I've been skipping over Gotham-based characters, for the sake of the "Bruce but no Batman" agenda. But this guy doesn't need to be from there, it makes the most sense that they meet him in europe somewhere.

Identity Crisis

This isn't actually an adaptation of Identity Crisis, probably doesn't deserve the name, but maybe there could be a couple references that justify a "loosely inspired by" tag. Maybe.

What this is is the movie right after Lobo, dealing with magic and mass-mind control. I have decided Zatanna is the villain. There will also be Manchester Black, but he turns out to be a fake she set up to take the fall.

She's using her power to join the League, retroactively. There's flashbacks to when she first helped with something and they offered her membership, and mention that she and Jinx actually did some training together, Jonah was an old friend of Zatanna's dad, etc. All of that is a lie, but hopefully by this point we have introduced enough members without comment that the audience doesn't catch up early.

J'onn would easily mess up her plot, so she needs to deal with him early; and I consider his reveal important enough that she shouldn't give any indication that she's dealing with him. We don't know about him until Rebirth, but when we do the general thought should go "wait why didn't he know about OH right she did that thing".

So, before she sets foot on the Watchtower Station for the first time, the first time they learn about Black, she's shown to resist him. She later says she always has psychic defenses active, it's an elementary precaution any decent mage would take. Cue awkward fidgeting from Jinx. Then the two of them then cooperate to cast wards protecting the entire League.

Later, when those fail, Zatanna can blame the nature of Jinx's power for it. The movie could also imply this to be true, if it's happening early enough.

Zatanna's power source is a book that is written mirrored. Call it the Tome of Reflections or somesuch. It is the reason she speaks backwards; it's not that anything she so says will happen, but it's still a necessary component of all her spellcasting.

Her plot is ultimately to replace that with Diana's magic. The innate one, what she inherited from Zeus. She's not even using it, really, and Zatanna is professionally offended by that. (If she knew about the Lanterns she'd freak out.)

Extracting Diana's magic would kill her, but I'm saying that as omniscient narrator, I don't think she should know that for sure. Not that it would stop her if she did, but it's probably best if she tells herself she will be fine, that she'll later agree it was worth it, when both of them are heroes together.

Also, I keep imagining her cutting open her own chest to carve magic symbols in her ribs and heart and whatever other surfaces are available. Sadly, we can't use that, because it would be far too gruesome for this kind of movies, and also because she's not going to win. Spoilers, by the way!

Also also, I was considering making King Shark be a demigod after all, and therefore older than Wonder Woman because she really needs to be the last one. That would make him probably a better target for Zatanna, so that finally convinces me against it. He's just a weird mutant after all.

Anyways, I don't have much to add. Manchester Black was sometimes an anarchist, or at least pretending to be. His "evil plan" should include making public statements roughly in that vein. He could be someone who had previously complained about the League's existence and operations, though I don't think that's important enough to actually add him to previous movies.

He dies, by standard supervillain accidental suicide, except it's staged by Zatanna as a last-ditch effort to settle matters and distract everyone's attention.

The movie itself should be mostly mystery, maybe minor horror, on the grounds of the paranoia that Zatanna's actions are seeding.

After her defeat, Diana claims the Tome. She's also not going to use it, just keep it in storage with her friend's brooch. If we actually see that, there should be a third thing with them, doesn't matter what exactly but it should be somewhat recognizable.

Also this means the brooch was also more powerful than the book, or else that'd be what Jinx "borrowed" for Jonah to use during Rebirth.

Roxy Rocket

This was a minor villain from Batman: the Animated Series. She has since also appeared in comics, but never in an important fashion, as far as I can tell. She was a stunt actress who was addicted to danger, and so kept escalating her stunts until studios would no longer hire her. Then she turned to crime, primarily for the thrill but presumably also for the money. She rides a huge rocket with bike controls bolted on, and mostly antagonizes Batman and friends, but also Superman at least once.

Anyways, I want her to have Lobo's bike. I'd thought from the start I should want someone to use it to become a super; it's kind of a crappy spaceship but for a planet-bound character it's probably one of the best vehicles available. Then I dropped that when I thought that would be Supergirl's best idea to contact the Lantern Corps, but then then I remembered Roxy and have decided to go for it.

We open with her jumping out of a plane, wearing one of those flying squirrel-like flight suits. She's intending to get some air time and then land in another plane. This is not being recorded, she's doing it for fun, on her own money. The receiving plane gets out of position and leaves her to fall, presumably to her death.

Either someone from Hollywood wants revenge for some insult, real or imagined, or she was already involved in crime and is being double-crossed. Probably the later, but if I could come up with a plausible motivation for a (previously) non-criminal, I think it could be better to have the start of her life of crime be on-screen and not a flashback. Probably.

She realizes she's been betrayed and panics, but then gets a wide smile. She wouldn't have tried jumping from that height down to the ground, despite her reputation she's not quite that stupid, but now that it's happening she loves it. She does her best to control her fall, having the best time of her life, then crashes into the desert and slides and rolls a large distance, destroying her suit and getting large friction burns all over her body. She smiles and tries to raise her hand in triumph, whispering that she made it, then falls unconscious.

She's woken up by a voice she doesn't understand, probably with weird camera and audio effects to show us she's suffering from pain and hunger and sun exposure, but the voice is genuinely speaking a non-human language; it's someone that received Supergirl's transmission but also didn't understand it, and is trying to get a response back. This probably means it hasn't been very long since she left Earth, though the exact timing doesn't actually matter.

Roxy crawls towards the voice, with great difficulty, until she is convinced that it's below her, and begins digging in the sand, wondering if she's gone crazy. She finds the communicator and tries to answer, but it's quickly made clear to both that they can't understand each other. What's important is she also finds Lobo's bike.

First she raids the cargo boxes, finds his rations and begins eating and drinking. After that, a little more recovered, she takes a better look at the bike. It's obviously weird and she wonders if it's some prop, but by now humanity is aware that aliens and weird science exists, so she gets on it and tries to get it running.

It flies away at great speed, almost tossing her off, but she barely manages to hold on and climb properly. She's once again laughing, extremely happy. As she leaves, the camera goes back to the ground, we see she left behind the comm and Lobo's two books. Maybe some sand starts burying them again.

We should also get some small montage of her figuring out the bike. In particular, it can take her to space, but she very quickly figures out she shouldn't go that high, and it can take her around the planet trivially quickly. She also has some space guns, that she should have fun figuring out. And either we don't worry about power or there's some universal power converter and she also steals electricity from various places.

Beyond that, it's mostly a standard revenge movie. She figures out who betrayed her and why, starts attacking their interests, they start to retaliate but after some dramatic setbacks she wins. As keeps happening, I'm not sure if she should be a hero or a villain. She was already almost sympathetic in the episode, her main motivation is seeking adrenaline and that could easily be fulfilled by fighting supervillains. But I also need some recurring villains, arguably? So maybe she can stay as a "not so bad" criminal. Dunno.

She uses a version of her cartoon costume, which in-universe will be from an old movie she was in, called "The Ultimate Thrill", which was the name of the episode. Her last or her best work or something like that. We should see the poster but she's not in it, since she was a stunt actress, not a star. I think it would be funny to have her stunt double be the one posing for the poster, so as to say the roles are reversed in-universe. Unless the part were played by someone who does her own stunts, in which case nevermind.

After credits, back at the desert, the communicator speaks up again. The voice asks, in english but poorly, if this is the correct language and can anyone understand them now. Then the battery finally dies.

...next is a bunch of movies I can't actually think of

For that "space arc" that I wanted to have, but don't have any good ideas for.

I wanted to have a movie following Jonah Hex in the afterlife, after the events of Rebirth, but it was bad. Mostly the point was to establish that nothing else in the universe could destroy souls, besides the White War enemies; and furthermore that this was the reason why the Legion's meddling with time failed to make them unexist.

But there's nothing I'm comfortable letting get out of the afterlife, so there are no real stakes I could give the movie, so it was always going to be bad. Discarded.

I also had an idea for a New Gods one, mashing together Apokolips and New Genesis into a single planet, so as to make it be a real society. They'd be in the middle of a civil war, from which Orion would emerge as a Robin Hood-like figure.

That one has potential, I guess. I must have writen and deleted it like five times. For now all that remains is this "maybe".

The Violet Lantern Corps have a long-standing lawyer firm, that absolutely exists in the setting even if I've not had a legitimate excuse to introduce them in a movie. And from Lobo's attitude we can infer there is some form of galactic bounty hunters association. Either or both of them should get some sort of police procedural.

I've also decided Dick Grayson was a lawyer, as his day job back on Earth. That probably means when he first left Gotham it was to go to Harvard, and he only wound up in Blüdhaven after. Unless we just say Blüdhaven has a good law school. Either way, the point is that he'll end up joining the Star Sapphires proper, this may be his movie, or at least he shows up after credits.

Also, whoever was trying to answer Supergirl's call was probably either a Star Sapphire or Lobo's contact to them, since she was using his space phonebook. Whoever it was doesn't need to be particularly important, but should probably at least be mentioned.

Princess Koriand'r originally received visions of multiple "nice" worlds, specifically such that the Light thought it possible she would rather go to one of them than stay with her dying mother. Again, I consider this canon even if I don't think it should have been mentioned. Though I suppose she could have mentioned it in Red, actually; Dick could ask about her Test after learning that his was not standard-issue.

Anyways, someone should probably be in or from one of those worlds. The fact that they are desirable places to go to could mean whatever happens there is low-stakes and pleasant, which would make a good respite in between two tense movies, should there be such.

There should also be an appearance by the planet where the martians ended up. I don't have anything specific in mind for them, J'onn wouldn't have gotten to space and they have no particular reason to care about their former world, but nonetheless it feels like a waste to not have them come up.

Also kinda wanna establish that they can't phase through objects, J'onn only has that power as a result of the teleport accident, regular martians are merely shapeshifter telepaths.

A movie about a world that's been ravaged by a gang of space bandits, maybe slavers so they can ultimately rescue some people. A kid manages to escape and goes to seek a legendary warrior, famed for intervening in several wars through the galaxy. It's Supergirl. She helps him hunt them down, they philosophize about the nature of revenge and so on.

This is a story archetype that's been done many times, but I kinda wanna develop this one more. Can't help but feel it just needs one more gimmick.

I want the Challengers of the Unknown. Kind of. They would normally be a human group, but I'm making them aliens in part as payback for all the aliens who got turned into humans back on Earth. They'll actually appear later, so all we want during this section is a tease after credits. Members of the broader organization they will belong to, some space university or something, showing up to check up on whatever scientifically interesting debris one of the movies may have left behind.

I also keep thinking about the Black Mercy, but that's overplayed actually. Maybe mention that someone got black mercied, but don't show it.

And on the subject of officially running out of ideas, there's a minor character known as Space Cabbie. No real name I can find, though I admit I didn't look very hard. He's in the future, but that's easy enough to ignore, so I want him here, even if just as a minor character in some other movies. He transports people through space, and that's it.

His spaceship probably needs to look less like an obvious Earth taxi, but we have many different taxi designs and there's only so many colours, so I guess some overlap will be ultimately inevitable? But at least it shouldn't look like a New York taxi, since those are the ones we all see in movies.

Also there needs to be a sequel to at least one of these, hopefully more, to give this stretch of the franchise legitimacy. That I need to specify it like that betrays its lack of legitimacy, of course. So moving on.

Lanterns

Poster is one of each of the Lantern rings, threaded on a string that's held from off-screen. In rainbow order, backwards, just because.

We open with Koriand'r and Dick Grayson following rumours that her sister has become a Blue Lantern. He was probably the one that heard of it, on his new job with the Star Sapphires. Along the way they should find at least a bit of further weirdness; the answer is that people from other universes are being transferred here for reasons unknown, but they shouldn't quite figure that out yet.

They do meet Blue Komand'r, but she's an alternate version of Koriand'r instead; and in her universe that's the name of her older sister, who is "a bit difficult, sometimes". The two make good friends quickly. (the bet that resulted on each of their parents naming each of them had a different result, but I don't think they should actually learn that part.)

Together they figure out the "alternate universes" bit, and then Dick excuses himself from the rest of the movie, saying he should try and find Supergirl and inform her, in case she wants to try and contact her brother. The other two continue the main plot, eventually teaming up with one of each colour, plus the group that the Challengers are the elite of, to figure things out. Here in rainbow order:

Red is Atros, better known as Atrocitus, but we're using the slightly less on-the-nose "original" name.

In the comics, his galactic sector was mass-murdered by the Manhunters, robot cops who are the Oans' first attempt at galactic police, before the Green Lantern Corps. He survives, along with four others but he betrays them later so they don't matter, and his mastery of blood magic leads him to harness the power of rage and create the first Red Lantern.

For my version, given the changes to Lantern lore, neither he nor the Oans can be in charge of creating either magic. He's just one more Lantern, and they're entirely unrelated. But the rest works reasonably well.

I would limit the destruction to just the planets of Ryut and Oa, which are at war. The Manhunters could still be robots, but Oans in powered armor would probably be better. Atros survives the destruction of his city, hiding in the rubble, having lost his wife and children, and as he watches the army move on his ring appears before him.

He reaches for it once, and when it moves away he screams "Stop that! We have to go!", pointing with his other hand towards the retreating Oan soldiers, where we see one of them take a potshot at the ruins. The ring deems this worthy and flies towards that hand.

He rallies any survivors he can find to fight back, destroying all the Manhunters they can find. Once they run out of enemies he uses his magic to transport his army to Oa. Oa should also be a genuine civilization, not just a dozen old immortals.

Atros' armies run rampant through the world, until one day an Oan flies at him, also wielding a Red Lantern ring. They fight to the death, and as he watches the ring fly away he realizes he has become what he hated, giving him the shock he needs to become at least anti-heroic enough to function properly in the ensemble cast for this movie.

His canonical appearance is good, with the big shoulder pads. Just use his flashbacks to show that Ryut's armies used a version of that armour, so his is retroactively one of them, modified to be Red Lantern-themed.

Orange is John Henry Irons. As he was starting to research AmerTek's crimes, one of the power armor prototypes erupts in orange light, which isn't fading away for no apparent reason. Naturally the company quickly moves it into secure storage, for later research. He switches his efforts towards getting into the team that will work on that, thereby passing his Test; after he gets it he naturally uses it to destroy the company, and also becomes a superhero in his Earth.

He doesn't use a hammer and didn't get a ring, the armor itself being his magic's receptacle. It's still just unpainted steel, but later he crafted the symbol of the Orange Corps into the chest.

He can add other weapons and devices to the armor, to be run on Orange Light, but not immediately. He needs to do research for adapting each. The way that works is that he already comes with a variety of options, and if he collects anything interesting he says he'll work on it and we leave it as foreshadowing for a future appearance.

If he becomes a recurring character after this, it will be by having added dimensional travel capabilites to the armor.

Yellow is Jor-El. The first movie didn't specify one way or the other, but from his talk to the Council it seems possible that he'd warned them about the impending destruction of Krypton years earlier, and then grew increasingly frustrated as they did nothing, until it was too late. I'm running with that interpretation.

In another universe, when he was going to inform them for the first time, he saw a vision of their doing nothing and letting the world fall. So instead he spoke to the people at large, hijacking some sort of public address system they may have had. He was starting to seem like a crackpot, some soldiers approaching to remove him, but then his ring flared into existance. He put it on, raised that hand to call for action, and those soldiers fell to their knees, as well as many people watching through the world.

With the early warning and his magic, they were able to find a suitable new world and evacuate most of the population. They wanted to name it after him, or the Yellow Corps, but he convinced them to go with "Argon" instead.

(That probably also means those names are actually the name of the corresponding element in the kryptonian language, getting translated for our benefit, but we can ignore that.)

Also, because the first movie established kryptonians get their powers from the chemical composition of Earth's air, and I then established Lantern life support is based on your specific species' environment, he doesn't have those powers or know about them.

He still wears the same mostly black suit, but has replaced the symbol of the House of El with that of the Yellow Corps.

Green is Lobo. We do not get to learn how his Test went; instead he tells multiple contradictory stories about it.

He doesn't have his bike, but still carries multiple space weapons which he mostly doesn't need.

He also wears Lantern Rings of every colour except Violet. They don't do anything, of course. Since he can see Koriand'r doesn't use hers, he'll spend the movie pestering her to sell it to him so he can complete the set.

He has the symbol of the Green Corps tattooed on his chest, and loves finding excuses to show it off.

Blue is Komand'r. In her universe, as her mother lay sick, she kept insisting that she would get better, and then they'd travel the galaxy together. Everyone knew she wouldn't, but then one day she suddenly did. The princess grabbed both hers and her sister's hands and tried to drag them away, "to adventure".

The Queen was just starting to say it wouldn't be that easy when the Blue Ring appeared in front of them. She tied it to her hair, which works, and then she did indeed drag them both to another world.

Fun fact: I was considering making tamaranian royals be shaven and wearing wigs, like ancient egyptians allegedly did. I've decided against it for the sake of this.

Nowadays she wears her ring behind her neck, at the base of a braid that's almost as long as her body. She also has the same suit as Koriand'r from "our" universe, a.k.a. a more realistic version of the one from the cartoon and at least some comics, though again with the main colour changed to blue.

Every (tamaranian) year, on the aniversary of her mother's recovery, she brings her to a new, hopefully beautiful planet. Her sister rarely joins them. Last year she missed it on accout of the White War. This time she's just hoping the situation can be resolved in time for her to not miss the appointment again. This could also be a hint for how long tamaranian years are, but I hope that can still be kept vague.

Indigo is Sheko, from the Red Daughter of Krypton comic. She was a judge from a world where the justice system had been corrupted beyond any hope of repair; she's basically the last remaining believer in justice. She declared the crown prince guilty of multiple crimes and sentenced him to death, then the executioner shot her instead. She arose as a Red Lantern and immediately went on a murderous rampage.

She also had some sort of telepathy which she used to "judge" people, which is not standard-issue for Reds but she also didn't seem to have before; I'm also not clear on if those deemed guilty die as a result of it, or she just kills them after.

Anyways, for my Indigo version, her role in her society will be more focused on providing aid to victims, rather than punishment to the guilty. That may mean she should be more of an attorney than a judge, but I like the "judge" title, so let's just say their system is different.

Her Test was during the White War, so innocents were returned, starting with someone she tried and failed to help, then from her coworkers, and so on. She started trying to use her position to aid them, but had to admit it was beyond her resources and instead publicly ask for help, thereby passing the Test and receiving her ring.

However, by that time the corruption had spread enough that some people were White "zombies", further working to spread it and consume more souls. Again she tried to use her magic to save everyone, figured out she couldn't and left for space to seek assistance. Instead she got involved in the War. They didn't save her planet, she's the last of her people, but she cannot deny it was absolutely the right thing to do.

(In the aborted afterlife movie, I was going to show the main universe version of her didn't leave, her magic and soul were eventually consumed and she ended up joining the War on the other side.)

She also always had mild telepathy, which she mostly didn't use because it wouldn't be admissible evidence anyways. Her Lantern magic augments it, so she no longer speaks except telepathically. Maybe she can't, or at least pretends she can't. She also can "absorb" suffering from others, so it's easier to deal for them, though only temporarily.

She still wears her traditional judge robes, though with the colour and symbol swapped out for those of her Corps.

Violet is Koriand'r. We already know her.

Plus maybe alternate versions of one or more actual, named members of the Challengers of the Unknown. They would naturally realize what's going on and try and contact their local counterparts, thereby converging on their planet.

The Lanterns help this group with the research, transporting people and large machines all over the place, volunteering to be tested, powering devices, stuff like that. Together they figure out that space-time is "cracked" and sort of bending "inwards", so that people and things from other universes keep falling in.

Some of them also theorize this could destroy the universe, possibly retroactively; though not all agree on this interpretation. They start a plan to repair it, which will mostly involve them creating more machines and the Lanterns delivering them to key points in the galaxy. When they activate they should automatically push everyone back home; but even if not, they're confident they'll be able to build transporters for them.

The machines activate, nothing happens, and they power down. They check and discover signs of sabotage, so everybody scrambles to check out everything. Most of the devices have been tampered with. One of them also finds a portal machine, seeming similar to what the Science Team said they'd build later, though they insist they haven't yet.

They converge there, though Lobo is missing. After some debate, they decide to cross together, all six Lanterns and a few scientists.

The portal brings them to the outside of the same universe. Should be interesting-looking, but not fully psychedelic nightmare since they'll be spending a reasonably long time there. There are a bunch of highly advanced dimensional machinery, which the scientists are both excited and worried about.

There's also Lobo's decapitated corpse. His Green ring is already gone, having crossed back through the portal and gone off to the local Lantern Sector. We don't know that, because he needs to die offscreen to protect the traitor's identity, but we may see it in flashback later when he or she is ranting about motives.

If possible, have had some red herrings to imply Lobo was the traitor, earlier. He clearly died for getting too close to the truth, which means he was investigating, he suspected someone among them; this is presumably enough for careful scene design and camera work to make him seem suspicious, though I don't have any specific details in mind.

I haven't actually decided which Lantern is the traitor.

Anyways, the group keeps exploring, at least two of them arguing for going back (the traitor is either one of them or "undecided"), until the scientists start figuring out how to turn off or destroy the machinery, then the traitor kills most (but not all) of them before anyone can react. The other five Lanterns stand against him or her, we get a motive rant and a sufficiently impressive fight.

The general gist is that there is a multiversal conqueror, Prometheus, that is expanding in the general direction where all their universes lie. The traitor's world was already scouted by his advance forces, they barely destroyed them before they could report back.

The plan was to turn this universe into a sort of "trap", summoning powerful people from various adjacent ones. From among them he or she hopes to recruit an army that can hopefully stand up against Prometheus'. Also per the traitor's calculations (or whatever scientists support him or her), this particular universe is outside of the army's path, just far enough that they should avoid notice, but just close enough to ambush his forces when the time comes; that was why it was chosen as the staging grounds.

The traitor also needs an advantage to almost stand up to five alleged equals, so:

If Atros is the traitor, he has sorcerous skill far more advanced than Lanterns usually do. His magic may be blood-themed, as a comics reference. He may know how to disrupt other Lantern's magic, or at least mess with their biology in spite of their defenses.

He also has experience rallying an army against a coming conqueror, so it's reasonable this would be his plan.

If John is the traitor, he had a larger humanoid mech waiting, which interfaces with his armor and is powered by his Light. It's full of strange and powerful weaponry, some of it pilfered from Prometheus' scouts.

It's also in character for an Orange to focus on the "gathering" part of gathering allies. They must be prepared. He may be a little manic, in his rant.

If Jor-El is the traitor, he has figured out how to manipulate his magic's atmosphere to give himself superpowers. Either Superman's, or something even stranger and more powerful.

It's also highly in-character for him. He's warning them of oncoming danger, and they are fools not to listen.

If Kommand'r is the traitor, I don't have a particular idea for her advantage, but the betrayal would be extra poignant after the interdimensional sisters have become close. It's worth serious consideration just for that.

If Sheko is the traitor, her telepathy is more powerful than previously advertised, or maybe there are mechanisms that augment it.

She also will be focused on the fact that there's people who need help, she's absolutely willing to do her part, but she's not enough so she also needs them.

After the traitor is killed, the remaining scientist(s) figure out how to reverse the machinery's effect, which prevents more visitors from being dragged, but doesn't automatically send the people back.

They get out to see the rest of the Science Team has moved in and secured the area around the portal. Their instruments did detect the change in the structure of space-time, they are now reasonably certain reality won't cease existing, and will begin working on getting visitors to their homes.

A few months later, they've finished that. Koriand'r uses the Empire's reach to spread the news, direct people to get re-transported. They're also helping with security, and Komand'r (Queen, not Blue) hopes to leverage that into some manner of trade opportunities for them, thereby finally showing some interest in actually ruling her damn empire. At least for now.

The remaining Lanterns make their goodbyes, all promising to keep watch in case that conqueror does come, and carrying the data they'll need to rally their universe's Science Teams to build some sort of transdimensional comm system. If we have remaining alternate versions of Challengers, they also carry a full report. So, the traitor kinda won. Congrats!

Komand'r (Blue, not Queen) also promises to bring her mother here next year, and Koriand'r tells her she'll take them to her boyfriend's world. Unless she was the traitor, of course.

After the credits, in the Director's office in the Watchtower Station, Supergirl is holding back Power Girl. Bruce is cowering at his desk. She screams "HE KILLED THE SUPERMAN!" and her eyes light up, but a display of Red tentacles gets her to back off. He meekly asks what's going on, and the scene ends.

...some more movies here

I don't actually have ideas, just that the next one shouldn't be immediately next.

Challengers of the Unknown

They are basically the Fantastic Four. Actually it seems plausible they are the original idea that the Fantastic Four were derived from, though I don't know that for sure. Anyways.

Lanterns featured the larger group that they are a part of, which has no basis on the comics and I also didn't properly specify; they're probably just referred to as the name of their species and/or planet. But this movie is about an alternate universe version of the actual team, the four, sometimes five named members. I say we go with the five to further distance from Marvel's First Family.

None of them is from the alternates we saw previously. They are travelling on their own, for Science!, aboard a spaceship of their own design that can do that. They don't know about Prometheus, their higher-dimensional trajectory brings them from a different direction, kinda perpendicularly to his army.

The important thing is that they bring us the reveal that timelines created by "time travel" are particularly easy to detect and access. They should find Supergirl and talk to her in particular, explain that time travel actually doesn't exist, and how that really works. She already kinda knew her future had kept on existing, since Rebirth, but she could still get emotional about that and also decide to go home for this reason.

The important thing is the implication that the traitor Lantern was wrong, Prometheus may have been moving in a trajectory to miss this universe, but will presumably correct course as he comes closer, and probably was seeking the Legion's split-off timelines all along. The war will come here. No character has both sets of information yet, but we do, which is always cool when that happens.

The Challengers also sought her intentionally, as she's the single most interesting thing in this universe, from their perspective; they would have some device that can detect her. Again, the implication is that Prometheus' forces may or may not have a similar capability.

The Challengers don't believe there's a way to access her original universe, more or less for the same reason her new one is so easily entered. Action and reaction, something like that. They remain interested in the problem though, and promise to stay alert for any hint of a method, and to come back and inform her if such is found.

No such will be found, I will insist on "no actual time travel" for the sake of things still having stakes, but of course they don't know that. Also the movie presumably also had some sort of crisis or conflict that they dealt with, but honestly that matters less to me than the worldbuilding. Probably someone is attacking someone and they're here just in time to help, the movie ostensibly being a team-up between the Challengers and Supergirl.

With that we can finally have movies openly set in other universes, which means it's time for Power Girl. Actually again there may be a couple more indetermined stuff in between, but still:

So, about that Power Girl...

I'm not lying when I say I'd hoped for feedback on this. Still hoping I'm being over-sensitive.

In the original writeup (for Rebirth), I had Supergirl's brother tell her that the second time traveller, after the Legion deduced she had failed, was "your friend, whom you used to dress in your clothes". At the time I had no intention of bringing that character back.

My only thought had been that he needed some embarrassing anecdote about her, that I should tie that up with some bonus worldbuilding for their future, and that I should take the opportunity to establish the second time traveller was a man, because the Legion is equal-opportunity.

It was only later, after I accidentally invented Prometheus, that I started considering alternate timeline characters. Power Girl is an alternate version of Supergirl, but still distinct enough that either has continued existing at times when the other may have been retconned out. So, her being my second time traveler is too perfect for me to pass up.

I'm still bothered by the implications, and also the fact that Supergirl's brother would have to have known how his sister's friend ended up, but still chose to use that incident to make fun of her. To be honest I am tempted to retcon it away, claim the Legion's future doesn't have gendered clothes and he was instead making fun of her for the frivolity of it all.

But that would be untrue to the original reason for the annecdote, even if I ultimately voided it, kinda (the Legion is still equal-opportunity, because they didn't know until after), and also it would be a retcon, which I oppose on ideological grounds, mostly. So, I can only hope it's not too offensive? Here's her movie.

Justice Society

This is kind of a speedrun of the franchise so far, in the other timeline. Maybe it needs to be broken up; not a full twenty something movies, but perhaps more than one? But for now I will proceed assuming it can all be one.

The poster for Justice Society is a bunch of papers with sketches for various potential logos, and furthermore all sheets are arranged like the poster for Justice League, but mirrored horizontally. Obviously specific logos cannot match up, but they still should look cool side by side, I hope.

The movie starts with the Legion, on the day Supergirl was sent back. That's arguably overkill but we need it for the bookends. We open with her going into the time machine room, but from the other angle, so she's floating towards us. They do the small ceremony, the light show happens, but she disappears and we stay with the rest of the people.

I'd like it if this can be literally another angle of the same moment, filmed from another camera way back then. That may or may not be possible, depending on how exactly her floating is achieved, plus maybe any other technical issues I wouldn't know about.

Anyways, after she's gone everyone stands around stoically, waiting for the end of their universe, which doesn't come. The scientists start frantically checking their instruments. After a moment, the highest military officer present (the guy that Supergirl was talking to) turns to what seems the highest scientist to ask how long is it supposed to take. She looks at all her systems one more time and says "...not this long". Everybody deflates.

Then we would get some opening credits, probably set to some generic soft rock or somesuch, and the title card. Then come three sets of scenes: Power Girl's time in the Legion leading to her time travel, montage of her saving various people right after arriving in the past, and an interview she gives to Lois Lane about six months after arrival.

I'd also like for them all to be intermixed, using Lois preparing the article for publication as a framing device, but I'm not sure it works, since that implies everything is stuff she learned and there's at least two things in the Legion scenes that the people of the past shouldn't learn: that Power Girl is trans, and that she's the second attempt (and they believe the first failed and died). So here in order.

First, we need an actor to be pre-op Power Girl. Given they're rebuilding her "on a cellular level", it could just be anyone and we say any differences were per her request. But I actually prefer to not do that, and get two people as similar looking as possible, both for story clarity and to be able to say she didn't have any particular request, cosmetically. He gets at least two scenes.

First, getting measured for the making of the supersuit. It's again modelled after Superman's, boots and cape still red, but the rest of it is white, and there is no logo. They explain that the first attempt most likely failed on account of faulty historical information of some sort, so they're sending him further into the past, to have the opportunity to research and plan better. Superman is alive at that time, they wouldn't want to offend him. They considered using the Legion's logo, but ultimately decided it's not impossible that some version of it existed back then, better not to risk it.

Second, right after she explains and requests to be remade as a woman. I don't think we should actually hear the request, literally immediately after, with the actor looking slightly embarrased as the scientist responds. He says that yes, they can do that; it's basically trivial given all the other stuff they were already going to do. But re-tailoring the suit is much harder, he's not even sure if they can, "you should really have informed us of this before that was made".

That's also why the boob window; she couldn't fit in, afterwards, and they didn't have the resources to fix it properly so they just cut a vertical slice, at great expense, thus allowing the fabric to be pushed to the sides. I guess that makes it less circular than normal and kind of a diamond or cat's pupil shape, which we would have seen all the way back in Lanterns. Hope some people speculated about that.

I also enjoy having this justification for having the window at all. There's been many through the years, some stupider than others, but I'm reasonably sure it's never been something like this.

I also really enjoy the idea of her trying and failing to put it on, but there's no way to show that in a superhero movie, right? So instead let's say the cast jokes about that in interviews, "we tried so many camera angles and stuff, but couldn't get anything that would fly". And then it would inevitably become a sort of mad quest among certain fans, to get hold of that deleted footage, even if most believe it never existed and it was just a joke.

Anyways, this actor could have more scenes, studying and training for the mission, saying goodbyes to friends and family, stuff like that; or those could go to the final actress. Doesn't really matter, except that at least some training needs to go to her, since logically she'd need to do it after getting her powers.

Then she's transported back to the past, and the very first thing she does upon appearing on the empty Moon is to fly down and plant her feet firmly on the ground, before looking up to see the Earth's status. This one is always standing, and runs a lot; she only flies if required for tactical or logistical reasons. I don't have any deep psychological truths that may be revealed by this difference between her and Supergirl, but I still like to keep the contrast.

Also on the subject of parallels and contrasts, since Supergirl had her hair cut early in her adventure (and therefore presumably had long hair before), Power Girl will start with very short hair, but through the heroics montage we will see it growing progressively longer. Probably at an unreasonably fast rate, since that's supposed to last six months; but maybe it just extends further into the movie. Whatever the case, she ends up settling at butt-length hair.

She arrived in the past 6 years after Jason Todd's death, so the interview is three and a half years before Superman's, and 2 before General Zod came. That also makes it 3.5 years since Princess Koriand'r arrived and 3 since she's been dating Dick Grayson, though that's less important.

As for the montage itself, the only thing of interest is that she saves Victor Stone and his mom from their car crash. That means Cyborg won't exist in this timeline, and therefore also his dad gets to live. The cube itself remains in safe storage at S.T.A.R. Labs, no other scientist having been desperate enough to get stupid with it.

Unless maybe it's related to the end of the world, and both time travellers eventually destroyed theirs. I'm tempted to establish that connection simply for lack of anything better to do with either, but not sure. Let's say "maybe".

After the montage comes the interview, where Lois has various general questions for her. She admits to being from the future, from the Moon, here to save the world from an upcoming disaster she can't say more about for operational security, and various other stuff that it's surprising she'd be so open about.

I figure there may be some oblique-to-casual acknowledgment of her asexuality, as Lois asks about potential love interests (she's very popular, of course) and she denies having any interest. I also picture Lois apologizing, and claiming the more tabloidy questions were not her idea, others at the office insisted. Kinda wanna imply that was Perry, though she'd know better than to name him if that's the case.

At this point the world at large is already referring to her as "Power Girl", and Lois not-so-subtly suggests she use this opportunity to rebrand, as she doesn't find that name particularly dignified. Power Girl agrees she's probably right, but she doesn't care. Per the Legion's attitude towards names, it doesn't matter if it's technically stupid; nobody in the world is confused about it, that's all you can ask for from a name.

She still does share her serial, ac252ac247asc58tf123, and also draws the Legion's symbol for the article, having already determined there isn't any organization using it at this time. That would lead Lois to ask about the boob window, and if we're doing the interlocked scenes this is when we show the pre-op actor getting mildly berated for causing them to have to modify the suit; but either way all she says is "what, you don't like it?".

Also, about that name. That's the first appearances of Supergirl in general, the Legion of Superheroes, Power Girl specifically and Earth 2, respectively. It's also not a coincidence that the first half is the same as Supergirl; they were approximately the same age, and these are supposed to be serial numbers. That can't possibly hold up for any others, but we don't need serials for anyone or anything else.

This also confirms this timeline is a version of Earth 2, as may have been hinted by Power Girl's presence and also the Justice Society. I will be populating it with heroes who are, or could logically have been, from that continuity; not exclusively, but to some degree at least. I also suppose that makes the Legion timeline Earth 0. And then normally Earth 3 is the evil counterparts one, but I'm not doing that, my timelines are strictly "one change, butterfly effect".

Anyways, back to the interview. There's some sufficient generic interview-type questions, as modified by the reality of her being a superhero, then Lois closes by asking if there's anything she wants to tell the world. There's two things.

First, she may not be an alien, as maybe some people had been suspecting (unless the Moon counts), but there is a visitor from the stars currently living among humanity. She wants to have a meeting, in private if need be, for personal reasons.

Second, she needs to meet the Lex Luthor, as soon as possible, for future reasons. She stresses that it is important he receive this message, Lois reassures her the entire world has been waiting for this article and there's no way he'd be the one to miss it, and then they separate.

The very next day, Lex announces he's put all his other business for the month on hold, and is ready to receive her at her leisure, in his mansion in the caribbean. She arrives that same night, finding a fancy dinner waiting for both of them. We may take the opportunity to show she's a picky eater; it nicely contrasts Supergirl again, but it may be a little more unsympathetic than I want for the main protagonist.

Maybe a mild one: she grimaces a little, he asks if anything is wrong, and she says no, she's just still getting used to her enhanced senses, then keeps eating. Something like that may work.

Anyways, Lex is a big fan. He loves the idea that, in the future, humanity will seize godhood for themselves. We should see his "angels vs demons" painting, but he's graffitied it with a Legion symbol. She easily recruits him to save the future, and he admits since her arrival he's been looking into rumours of other people with strange abilities, which he wouldn't have credited before, but now he's been thinking about approaching them (and her) about forming some Society together. "Society for what?" "I don't know, Heroes? I'll have the guys at Marketing come up with something".

So they recruit some people to save the day. Still Wonder Woman, and Captain Cold. For Flash I established the older, dead one was Wally West, so I cannot in good conscience bring in Jay Garrick, sadly; he's either Barry again or missing.

I definitely want Alan Scott, the original Green Lantern from before there were space cops and so on. In this version he's not going to be related to the Corps at all, just a local mage, and won't be called that. From his list of titles from Wikipedia, I think Jade Knight works best. He'd have the power I denied Lanterns, to manifest objects made of hard light, but no active manipulation; he can create any tool but then has to wield it normally. Also his magic needs to be a different shade of green. May or may not have the weakness to wood, depending on if he gets enough screentime for it to be showcased.

Kinda want Shade, one of Jay Garrick's villains, who occasionally was a "noble adversary" kind of thing so it's not so much of a stretch to make him a hero. He basically controls shadows, so if Earth 1 had Ebon, this guy could be his counterpart. At the very least, Lex should be interested in recruiting him, even if he doesn't join.

Also Wildcat, though I don't have anything interesting to say about him. I know he taught Power Girl wrestling or boxing or something like that, but obviously that won't happen in this version. Nonetheless, he's in.

Add a couple more people, they succesfully change the future but she doesn't think she'll die, she solemnly thanks her people for their sacrifice and carries on. Honestly, Supergirl was also told how they expected it to work, she just didn't pay enough attention. Afterwards the gathered heroes become the first of the Society, with Lex as their Director.

For the record, he will be good. A little more underhanded than Bruce would be confortable being, which is why he succesfully recruited Cold, but this is definitely a "redeemed" Luthor.

They do heroics, maybe recruit a few more people, and a few months later Koriand'r meets Power Girl in the sky. Still wearing human clothes, but without her fake skin/eyes, and obviously wreathed in Violet Light. She thinks she's the alien that was being called out at the end of the interview; Power Girl is surprised enough that she realizes she's not and asks who, but agrees when she's told she won't betray the other's secrets.

She's here to tell her about the spaceship her systems detected incoming, and also the fact that she has such systems, though she probably knew that, from the future? She didn't, I know I originally said a better future historian would have recognized Koriand'r, but on second thought I realized they shouldn't; Earth 0 Star Grayson, née Anderson, lived and died in obscurity and comfort.

Power Girl theorizes it's probably the kryptonian survivors, though it's a few years too early for them to come. She guesses, but doesn't say, that probably the Kal-El triggered the distress signal early, as a result of the changes she's made to the timeline. Koriand'r is surprised to hear there are any survivors, Tamaran didn't know that. After a little more catching up between the two, they agree to go to meet them, so she takes her hand and flies them into space.

Minor retcon time! The way the kryptonian ship worked was very clearly visually a teleport, but it was never explicitly said, and the technobabble was very vague. Once again I assume that was on purpose, in case they wanted to build up on it later. That's convenient for me right now: we will say that it's actually continuous travel, though in a semi-immaterial state which is what allows them to break light-speed. I already had the martian experiment and the Cult of Mongul's spell also kinda work like that, so we may even go ahead and say every teleportation does.

The important thing is that a sufficiently advanced technology, such as tamaranian planetary surveillance, allows them to detect ships in transit and intercept them, which is what they will do. The ladies meet General Zod's ship around the asteroid belt, where it materializes to allow them to board. Probably Koriand'r had been transmitting a signal asking for parley, it's something the planetary surveillance systems could plausibly do.

The kryptonian atmosphere bothers Power Girl, but she's better able to resist, on account of her augmentations. Koriand'r probably doesn't drop her aura, after seeing her new friend coughing for a moment. Though she'd be fine if she did; this won't actually come up until later, but Tamaran's atmosphere is sort of "in between" the other two; both humans and kryptonians can breathe comfortably, and the later don't get any powers.

Koriand'r translates for the meeting. We may get a scene of her kissing General Zod, for linguistics purposes, on the grounds that these people aren't capable of love and therefore her magic doesn't give her their language. Faroa Hu-Ul told Superman as much, at least, and I've no idea when else I would be able to invoke that clause.

Plus it'd be kinda cool, her trying and failing to talk to them, until she realizes that won't work and just says "Tamaran", pointing at herself, hoping they understand. General Zod does, sighs and takes off his helmet so she can do it, then when she's done he puts it back on before asking her if it worked.

But on the other hand, clearly Jor-El and his wife and kid were love-capable. Presumably they wouldn't be alone, if we have that restriction it would be for the soldier caste specifically. So that begs the question of whether the requirement for Lantern translation is per person, or species-wide. I feel it should probably be the later, because magic, but it does deprive us of a fun visual right now. So, dunno.

General Zod confirms they're after the other last survivor of Krypton, Jor-El's son, whom he saved using illegal experimental technology. Power Girl denies it, it was she who found the ancient ship, and while trying to salvage it triggered what seemed to be an alarm of some sort, which is probably what they're tracking. He confirms that. She claims there are no kryptonians on her planet; she checked, after first finding the ship, in case she needed one to access the systems. Koriand'r realizes some or all of that is a lie, but doesn't mention it.

They keep talking, General Zod admits to his people's plans for Earth, which Power Girl knew from the future and neither of them will allow. He starts getting angry. Koriand'r insists they must claim a world without an existing biosphere, and offers her empire's resources making up for the added difficulty. This is the first time she'll explicitly admit to being tamaranian royalty, which should make Power Girl flinch briefly.

Koriand'r keeps trying to calm things down, but General Zod keeps getting angrier until he orders his people to attack, then immediately does so himself. The others hesitate very briefly before trying their best to capture or kill the two ladies.

Now, the first movie kinda established that the kryptonian power armors are almost on par with a powered kryptonian. More specifically, they defeated Superman the first time, when he was trying to figure out his powers, then he defeated them the second after he had some proficiency. I've never explicitly established this but it's most reasonable to assume Legion faux-kryptonians have equivalent power levels, and Power Girl is a trained soldier, so she'll have no trouble keeping up with them. The atmosphere probably bothers her more than the enemies.

As for Koriand'r, she's a Lantern. They simply have nothing that can threaten her.

So the two are getting swarmed by mostly ineffectual soldiers, while Koriand'r keeps trying to de-escalate and General Zod keeps ranting madly, until he says something to the effect that he'd rather see the mission fail than take her charity. Then he's immediately shot in the back, and before anyone can react Faroa kicks away his helmet and shoots his head off.

Then she drops the weapon, turns towards Koriand'r and kneels without further word. The other soldiers stop attacking, confused. Most of them drop their weapons, a few bow or kneel. Power Girl drops one she was grappling so he can join in.

Once everyone has acknowledged the end of the fight, Faroa apologizes for her superior. He lost his best friend during the planet's destruction, and apparently his mind as well. They will turn around and seek an empty planet to settle, difficult though it may be. They would be honoured to accept any help she still may feel gracious enough to offer, though of course they understand if the time for that has passed.

Koriand'r tells her to stand up, there's no need for that and of course the offer stands. She just needs to bring her friend home, and say some goodbyes. They agree on that and she grabs Power Girl and flies away. The moment they're gone, General Hu-Ul orders the ship start travelling towards Tamaran, on the grounds that a Lantern can easily catch up with them, or even wait for them there.

Koriand'r brings her directly to her appartment, where she applies the fake skin, so we finally see that. It'd really be up to the special effects people to work something out, but I'm imagining a small plastic box, like any makeup, which unfolds spider-like legs to crawl around her skin, applying a plastic-like substance. She dons it hastily this time, so we can see a little orange up her sleeve or down her neckline.

She also quickly writes some letters to unspecified people in her life, as she asks Power Girl if they can talk further after she comes back. She agrees of course, and promises to keep her human identity out of it, now that she has the address and also presumably could have read all those letters if she wanted, but she does need to report what happened to the Society. They both fly away.

Koriand'r delivers her letters but sees Dick in person, to tell him she'll be gone for a while on business, she can't say more for now but maybe she can explain after she returns, in a couple months. He doesn't see her fly or use any magic, but is maybe confused/worried about her having come all the way to Blüdhaven for that.

Meanwhile, Power Girl flew to the north pole, where she quickly found the ancient kryptonian ship and stood at attention outside. Clark emerges, already wearing his Superman suit and thinking she's here on account of future info. She tells him about the other kryptonians, their upcoming new world, and that the Princess promised to come visit soon-ish, she can take him to them if he wants.

He thinks about it for a moment, but refuses. He literally just found out he was an alien, he's lived on Earth all his life and has no interest in leaving. He'd really like to consider himself human, if possible. And also start helping people, like she does. So she brings him to see Lex about joining the Society.

He's having a meeting and dinner with Raven, who will end up becoming the Society's main mage. Power Girl is the one to introduce Clark as "the Superman", which surprises him briefly but he goes along with it. Lex is again excited to meet him, by now he's definitely an enthusiastic superhero supporter. He's also invited to the north pole, to see the kryptonian ship. He and Jor-El's hologram quickly establish a rapport, as fellow men of science.

They eventually move the Society's headquarters to the ship, and start building more structures for heroes that need or want housing there, plus support staff. Kryptonian science allows it to be both comfortable and ecologically sound. Jor-El ends up being in charge of comms for the Society, so all members get to know him at least a little. We also should meet some more new heroes.

I want both Jimmy Olsen and Lana Lang, in their superhero identities of Elastic Lad and Insect Queen, respectively.

She found an alien in distress and helped him, then he rewarded her with a ring that lets her partially transform into giant insect human hybrids at will. In my version he will not be an alien, I'm being much more conservative with those, so instead it's a human (or secretly atlantean) mage. And maybe she fails to save him so he leaves her the magic ring because he's dying; I denied that to Lantern Corps so there could be a Test system, but for an one-off it's not bad.

As for Olsen, he's actually already been introduced, as a CIA agent who dies as part of Lex's evil plan. There's no evil plan this time, so he'll be fine. Instead he gets involved in a secret project to give soldiers artificial superpowers, being the only success, maybe the only survivor. He's sent to infiltrate the Society, working under Amanda Waller. Lex knows about it, and offers him to coordinate on what he'll report back, which of course Waller knows about, and etc. He's a bit stressed about that but ultimately decides to just focus on heroing, leave the politics to the politicians.

On the other hand, I'm not sure if it's yet time to introduce him. Time is already getting vague, but we still need to be a while before BvS time. On the other other hand, the world is already highly changed, and presumably he'd been in that assignment for a while before it got him killed, so it's probably ok to just say he got different orders.

Other than that, one of the minor powered assassins from Steel, not the same one who was in Task Force X.

This is also probably the time for a super they try to approach but find mysteriously dead. I volunteer Black Canary, the original one from Flash comics; she may or may not leave behind a daughter who will be implied to eventually get the same powers and take over the role. (Batman killed her, but we won't be explicitly told that.)

Anyways, the next big thing is Lex and Jor-El cooperating to use kryptonian terraforming technology to try and help Earth's environmental problems. They construct two of the thing that was in the sea, since the one over Metropolis was their ship and they explicitly were only using it because they didn't have two of the other machine. They are placed on the poles.

Wonder Woman wants them to not do that, she's clearly worried, but doesn't want to say why, even when officially ordered. Lex and Jor-El double-check all the maths, in case she'd noticed something they missed, but decide she was probably wrong and proceed. First test goes well, data is promising, but they do have to cut it short due to an unforeseen event (Martian Manhunter, though we're not told that yet).

A little after, Atlantis attacks. King Orm used the test to rally all other kingdoms to his cause. Presumably, he would have tried it in Earths 0 and 1, but since there it was not humanity's project but rather an attack against them, it didn't work. Also this means Black Manta won't exist this time, since he doesn't need a man on the inside.

This is what Wonder Woman was worried about, but she didn't speak because she respects Atlantis' secrecy. She gets a minor reprimand for it, though ultimately Lex agrees she was caught between a rock and a hard place, there are no repercussions for her other than her conscience.

The opening attack destroys Coast City, Atlantis will use the ruins as their forward base. This means Jinx died, so Raven won't need to worry about that. The Society and various militaries rally to defend against them; if Jimmy's here already, this is when he officially goes from "multiple agent" to "liaison".

While the war is going on, Mera and, uh, Green Goblin? Ok his name is Vulko, thanks google. Those two split off to go betray the war effort. She tries to recruit Arthur, but instead finds a note where he tells her not to bother him again, he disavows both of his peoples. He won't be seen in this timeline.

That would also mean his mom will remain in exile forever. Sorry, ma'am.

Meanwhile, Vulko goes to talk to Luthor, much more succesfully. He goes to Coast City with a bunch of supers, including King Shark even if it's his first introduction, to assassinate Orm and install Mera as Queen, since she failed to find Arthur. Maybe he can suspect she didn't try all that hard, but we know that's not true so we shouldn't dwell on it.

Power Girl is the one to actually kill Orm. By neck snap from behind, because obviously.

Queen Mera immediately orders a ceasefire and announces she's giving the surface world "one last chance to surrender". Lex goes to her under white flag, along with Waller and some military leaders from some other nations, to negotiate terms. Which are secretly exactly as already agreed upon between Lex and Vulko. The atlantean peoples are impressed with their new Queen's leadership and proud of their victory, humanity actually gets a pretty sweet deal, and they begin having actual cultural and economic exchange, leading to greater prosperity to both.

Superman and Power Girl toss the terraforming engines into the sun. Maybe introduce a new hero to help with that. Let's say Rocket Red, I don't know if he would be capable of extra-planetary operation, but we can pretend Lex helped upgrade him.

Wonder Woman is sent back to her people, to also establish actual diplomatic relationships, before something like that happens again. She brings two ambassadors along. Lana Lang for humanity, and Lori Lemaris for atlantis.

That's a mermaid, powerful telepath, who was also one of Superman's ex-girlfriends, though not in this version. She uses a wheelchair, but does not hide her tail, it's simply a legitimate mobility need, on dry land. Also she may be a princess, Aquaman implied only atlantean nobles could breathe both water and air; that doesn't necessarily extend to merfolk but I'm ok with saying it does, so long as it's also clear Lori wasn't a realistic candidate for the throne nor does she have any other obligations she's neglecting by taking this commission.

Diana meets her sister, Donna, who should be a little younger, but I'm not sure how much. She's going to be 15 at the time of Dick's Test during the White War, but I never established exactly how much longer that is after BvS, which has been kinda my centerpoint for timekeeping. I guess she'd be between 8 and 12, but also we're still a little before Superman would have died.

Both ambassadors are very popular with the amazons, but unfortunately both of them are straight. Also, Queen Hyppolita lives, thanks to their presence either her accident doesn't happen or at least she's saved.

Some time passes, and we should see, probably in news clips or so, that some people are nervous about all the power Lex Luthor has been amassing. That's two, arguably three, alien civilizations that kinda have diplomatic relations with his Society, rather than any actual government. Mostly people agree he's benevolent, but not everyone is so satisfied.

Some general anti-superhuman sentiment can also start rising, though we wouldn't dwell on that because I specifically wouldn't want to tread on X-men territory.

A bit later, Ace Reporter Clark Kent is investigating the apparent suicide of Gotham City Police Commissioner James W. Gordon. He's walking a dark alley when a person jumps down from the rooftop, tells him not to move. Obviously he knew but he's here in disguise, so he pretends to be surprised and scared. He turns around slowly and sees Batman pointing a gun at him. That hand is shaking, slightly.

Clark tries to defuse, tells him he thought he was an urban legend, that he'll be glad to bring his message to the world, stuff like that; but Batman "didn't lead you here for an interview". So Clark raises his hands and walks forward, slowly, to press the barrel of the gun against his chest.

He looks around at the alley. We see the abandoned theatre on the side. "It was here, right? This is where the monster was born." "This is where the monster will die." And the next thing he tries to say is lost in the sound of the gunfire, and the pain, and the surprise.

Clark falls backwards and dies with the exact same choreography as Martha Wayne did. Same limb movements, same camera angles, same amounts of slow motion. I would seriously give him a pearl necklace if I could think of a halfway decent excuse.

Batman sees that and drops the gun, stumbling backward a bit. He's breathing hard, and turns to the side, hands on his knees, about to throw up. But he doesn't, he collects himself and walks back to the corpse. He hesitates one last time, then bends down to pick up his gun.

For the record, he never thought he could really get the drop on Superman. He was counting on him playing along, rather than revealing himself, for long enough to allow himself to be shot with what he would expect to be a regular bullet.

Also, this means I do need to remove all guns from BvS Batman. Back then I was ambivalent about that, but now it's important for thematic contrast, so officially: all his murders in that movie were done on melee or thrown batarangs, not a single bullet fired from him or his vehicles.

A few days later, the Society is giving an emergency announcement. There's a temporary platform in a park, with a line of reporters in front of it, not including Lois Lane, and a bunch of random onlookers behind them. On the platform, at the back, a bunch of heroes.

Nightwing is in his older, disco uniform. We probably don't get to hear this, but he first adopted it to distance himself from Batman as he started getting worse, since the better suit is definitely Batman-inspired. In Earth 1 he went back to it after Bruce's redemption, before we met him, but in Earth 2 that won't happen so disco will never die.

Chloe Sullivan, she also has a superhero suit, which shows her duties are as a healer, not any admin. Probably green hearts or plus signs, something like that.

The eldest of the Shazam Family, Mary. I guess arguably she shouldn't exist yet, but whatever. Timeline has changed, Billy was chosen even younger, which is probably fine.

Stephanie Brown, as Spoiler, she'll be 14 or 15 so we are under a year from Rebirth, though we don't necessarily know that since we are just meeting her for the first time.

Flash, if we have him.

James Olsen, the Elastic Lad.

Some strong-looking people. Let's say Hourman and two or three nameless generic heroes.

And at the podium at the front of the platform, Lex Luthor is flanked by his two closest friends, Power Girl and Superman. He thanks everyone for gathering on such short notice, says they must be wondering what this is about. Someone at the back asks if he's finally running for President, causing everybody to start screaming over each other. Not completely positive, but mostly.

Lex just stands in silence, smiling, holding out his hands until everyone calms down. The last thing before silence is someone at the back, not the same person, screaming "You have my vote!". Lex takes a deep breath, then turns around and exchanges places with Superman. Now everyone is really paying attention.

He says he will be going to New Krypton, to be with his people and learn about his culture. He thanks them all for welcoming him all these years, and turns around towards Lex to thank him for letting him be part of such an important project, and then he's shot down from above multiple times, bullets shining green. He falls to the ground, reverting back to his martian form.

Batman falls from the sky in a giant humanoid robot. If Orange Irons was the traitor in Lanterns, it is the same model, though with fewer add-ons, just the two wrist-mounted gatling guns. Also black and with bat ears, purely cosmetic.

The heroes mostly scramble to get Lex and all the civilians to safety. Chloe rushes to try and heal J'onn, Jimmy and maybe one other tagging along to protect her. We see from her expression that it's not working.

Power Girl rushes the robot and knees its chest, pushing it back a few metres but not doing any visible damage. Her eye beams also have no apparent effect. Batman focuses fire on her, which she dodges, but only barely, so as to keep his attention. That works, and while she distracts him Mary gets underfoot to invoke Shazam's name multiple times, getting it repeatedly struck by lightning.

We see from the inside of the cockpit, Batman wearing his power armor, as he desperately flicks switches and presses buttons, trying to keep the systems working as more and more of them fail. Eventually all his screens go black, and then he falls. The robot was toppled, but we're still looking at the inside, hopefully the motion is still clear.

Some light comes in as Mary and Power Girl finally pull open the front of the robot. Then the later grabs the chest of his armor, squeezes a little to hold it, and pulls him out. She starts demanding an explanation, he instead says something defiant. Probably something about killing gods, I don't have good wording. He simultaneously flicks open a butterfly knife, edge shining green, and stabs her directly in the eye.

It shatters, harmlessly. We see genuine surprise in his face; he'd never believed the "future woman from the Moon" thing. She smirks and pulls his face closer to hers. "Seems like someone will be going to New Krypton, after all". Then she flies away with him.

At the north pole base, Jor-El reports the criminal and asks for transportation. Shortly after a ship arrives and takes them both, leaving his armor behind for future study.

Kinda want this ship to be Space Cabbie, but actually New Krypton should have their own prisoner transport by now. But maybe they don't, and he has some comment about that? Not sure.

The audience chamber is clearly modelled after the Council's chamber in Old Krypton, but Governor Hu-Ul stands alone. After hearing the charges, she reminds Power Girl that she had originally testified that there was no kryptonian on Earth. She admits to that, but claims it was per his request, and that he wished to be considered a human, not a kryptonian.

Technically true, though he only said that afterwards.

Hearing her say that triggers Bruce to shout something hateful about him, which in turn makes Governor Hu-Ul shoot him through the chest. Then she says she'll accept that as a confession, from both of them, and sentences Power Girl to some amount of community service, on account of hiding Kal-El from their government, which inadvertently led to his death.

Given her power, she's tasked with helping the terramorphing efforts. Digging rivers, leveling mountains, stuff like that. A couple months later, Koriand'r arrives on a regular visit and learns about that. She helps her finish her tasks faster and then brings her to Earth, glad to finally have the excuse to visit.

She explains the deal with the Star Sapphires, which was easily fixed, but also that she's Queen now, which we should see in flashback. Her and the kryptonians stand before Komand'r in the audience chamber. She says they will not receive a single <alien small currency, probably> "for as long as I sit on this throne". She smiles meaningfully as she says that part. The kryptonians and her guards start getting tenser as the sisters stare down each other, but finally Koriand'r sighs in defeat and walks forward.

She gets up to let her sit down, takes off the Gown and tosses it over her head, and leaves, whistling to herself. That thing is their crown-equivalent, I hope that be clear by now. Also she's wearing regular clothes underneath. I don't want to just give her another colour swap of the Starfire suit, but then I never bothered to establish any further tamaranian fashion. Just, something casual-looking but still tight enough to plausibly have gone under the Gown.

Anyways, the kryptonians are left dumbfounded at what just happened, and the flashback ends.

While Power Girl was gone, Wonder Woman returned. She already sorted out her exile, this time she's an officially sanctioned diplomat. She brings along another to go to Atlantis, not her mother, either of their love interests, or her sister; any other named amazon from Wonder Woman. Though Donna may also be with them, on an allegedly temporary basis.

Also for the record, Vulko will be the atlantean ambassador to humans, and his counterpart is Giganta, a genius scientist who gave herself the ability to become giant, but growing makes her proportionally less smart. She's usually a villain, but it's far from the first time I just flip that around.

Koriand'r and Power Girl return directly to the Director's office in the north pole, where the first thing he does is ask them not to reveal that Bruce Wayne was Batman; the Society covered that up. That's probably all he needs to say, since Power Girl is a disciplined soldier and Koriand'r doesn't really care about either of them. But I do have more info, because I just can't help myself, so:

The Society planted evidence suggesting Wayne had been secretly cooperating with the late Commissioner Gordon, using a discreet amount of his wealth and influence, working to take down Batman. Actually it was Luthor who was trying to secretly support Gordon, which is also why the Society never took any interest in that situation.

Some more false evidence suggests that, shortly after Gordon's death, Wayne suddenly fled the country; but that was planted more ineptly, to make the police think Batman did it after killing him. This worked.

As for the man she brought to face neokryptonian justice, they released his identity as Patrick Malone, alias Matches, a minor criminal only notable for having worked under most or all crime bosses in Gotham. The police already suspected he had also done work for Batman, probably under duress; nobody really questioned the reveal of his identity. As for the real Malone, Luthor assumes Batman killed him long ago and took his name, though if he still exists he seems to have taken the opportunity to disappear, and he's glad to let him.

Fun fact: "Patrick" comes from Gotham, the tv series. As far as I can tell, no other version gives him a first name.

Also, Lex is wearing power armor. It's a modified kryptonian power suit, green and purple and modelled after his common cartoon one. He was traumatized by the attack and is never going to not wear it, for the rest of his life.

Finally, once Koriand'r leaves to visit her friends, but mostly her boyfriend, Lex also informs his friend of some new recruits. In particular he wants her opinion on one of them, who was apparently inspired by the attack. Wears power armor and a fancy warhammer of his own design, very impressive work; both painted solid white, and the Legion's symbol on his chest. Calls himself Legionnaire.

She mostly doesn't understand why it may bother her. She doesn't own the name or the logo and even if arguably she could lay prior claim to them, she would not have cared. Also the entire reason she's here is to prevent the Legion's very existence, so it's not like she can complain in their behalf. So it's all fine.

Some more time goes by, but not much, and then Dick's corrupted Test begins. Raven and whatever mage was Returned for her start doing the research, but as soon as they speculate about "love magic" Koriand'r suggests the Violet Corps will know about it, so she should go ask them. Dick immediately asks her to bring him along, thereby implicitly placing their relationship above literally everyone in the planet, thereby passing his Test. They leave together before anyone can notice the problem is over, as far as this planet is concerned at least.

And yes, he should get a violet version of his disco outfit.

The two of them get involved in the White War, and neither is ever seen again. We do not confirm their deaths, gotta keep open the possibility that they fell into a dimensional rift in case we ever want either or both to show up elsewhere. But as far as Earth 2 is concerned, they are missing, presumed dead.

Some appropriate time after, Komand'r reassumes the throne. Her first move is to mobilize an army to lay siege to New Krypton, demanding their ruler's hand in marriage. She gets it, and thereafter Queen Faroa mostly takes charge of all the Empire's paperwork. She ushers the way to greater prosperity and peace, and also a closer economic and cultural exchange with Earth, which finally becomes an actual member of galactic civilization.

As to whether the Queens had a personal relationship, either before or after, neither will ever confirm nor deny. That's why I specifically didn't want an answer to what orientation, if any, Komand'r has.

Eventually their heir will be a clone of Komand'r's mother, the late Queen Luand'r, created in the neokryptonian cloning vats. Queen Faroa will argue the use of them makes the child her legitimate daughter, in accordance with their law and custom, regardless of any peculiarity of her biology. All the nobles are satisfied by that, since all they actually care is that the eventual Ruler be of noble blood, even if they don't want to admit such out loud.

That also means the late Queen's corpse was stored in such a way that retains viable genetic material, though it must be almost a (human) decade since her death. Probably longer, no particular need for them to have had a kid immediately. So let's say Tamaran has ritual mummification, and a memorial planet full of royal corpses, too far from any sun to sustain any life.

The princess' name is Kand'r; I will admit that's the main reason I wanted these two together. Her mother will raise her to be an excellent clerk and keep up the administration of the Empire. In this timeline, they will far surpass the end of the (human) millenium.

Also, Stephanie Brown and Donna of Themyscira should become friends, because that's why I made them the same age, but I don't have any particular ideas for them. Maybe leave them for a sequel.

And that's about it. We've basically caught up with Earth 1, timewise, and leave off with Earth entering a new and exciting status quo. Could add something about Lex and Jor-El starting research into dimensional mechanics, but I don't think it's strictly necessary.

After credits, back at the Legion, we see the day the last atmosphere generator was destroyed. A team of repair technicians deploys, all dressed in a "realistic" version of Booster Gold's suit: the helmet covers their head fully, and all of it is fully sealed. A bit of bulk at the back, not nearly as much as an astronaut's backpack thing, but a little reminiscent of that. And some arm braces on both forearms, which are their computer terminals.

Their leader is Supergirl's brother, though obviously he can't be referred to as such. He's the Chief Engineer, or something like that. But we still may figure it out when his suit sounds an alarm, some info displaying on his arm, then before he can read it an explosion gets him.

His second in command tries to keep the rest of the team on task, but we follow the one that breaks and runs away. The others are screaming at him to come back, until he turns off his comms. He flies through the ruins of the facilities, until he drops to his hands and knees, breathing hard and crying.

The camera pulls back to show us this is the time machine room. The end.

If that was too much for a single movie, my first thought is to split most of the Power Girl stuff into her own movie, probably called just "Power" so it can pretend the original guy will stay, at least a little. That one keeps the Supergirl and Booster Gold scenes, of course. Poster would be the Legion's logo, against black or starry sky background.

...about Prometheus

First off, there is a Prometheus in DC. This is not that; I came up with the character first, then thought what his name should be for about five seconds, then checked to see what they may have used that name for. All I can say about that guy is he won't be showing up or be hinted at in any way, to minimize confusion.

So, this starts in the timeline where Ares' plan worked (from the tags), Steve Trevor and all the soldiers chasing him died at Themyscira's beach. Also I just checked that scene and they don't have planes, actually? I assumed he flew in, because he's a pilot, which would mean his enemies need to also fly in order to get him; but they're actually all arriving on ships.

Whatever, amazons don't fly until later. Still Diana gathers a crew to go out and bring peace to humanity, as inspired by Ares' visions.

Definitely include the one that would have been Donna's Other Parent. Her farewell to Queen Hippolyta is a little more heartfelt than any of the others; they're not a couple yet, but they're both already interested.

On the other hand, no to the one that was to be Diana's dead love interest later. She asks her to come, but only because she's asking everyone to come; they don't seem to have any particular feelings at this point.

The amazons are very successful, arguably extending the Great War by a few years, unless we count it as having ended immediately and then been succeded by their attack; historians will be divided on that.

If Doctor Poison was not removed from Wonder Woman, they recruit her to be the first of the science team. She also becomes a close friend of Diana, though not her lover because then we'd have to kill her off. That honour instead goes to some important guy, a prince or general from somewhere.

By the time World War II would have come, it doesn't, because all human nations already recognize Diana as Queen. Instead at that time she launches an attack to also conquer Atlantis. Aquaman's grandfather shatters her sword, but she kills him with the last bit left on the hilt.

This is before his daughter would have been born. Actually most people from the franchise won't be born, simply because of the huge changes in demographics. Princess Koriand'r is a Violet, but her visions did not include this world.

Anyways, a few decades later a farmer sees a ball of fire fall from the heavens into his farm, which contains a baby. He assumes it's God-Imperatrix Diana's son, and reports it as such.

It's actually not that unreasonable. Nobody knows where amazons came from; the official answer is "you are not worthy of knowing", but she also unofficially encourages the myth that they descended from the heavens, drawn by the last prayers of those dead in the Great War.

The kid's not hers, but she decides he should be, and adopts him. Also gives his ship to her science people to figure out, which is why she names him after the mythical figure, who brought fire from the heavens to help pull mortals out of the darkness.

About two decades later, Earth's joint peoples have made huge progress. They're already mining the asteroid belt, and begun terraforming both Venus and Mars. At that point they detect what seems like more of Prometheus' technology in the north pole, both he and his mother go to check it out.

She and Jor-El should get along well, I think. He approves of her parenting.

They do trigger the emergency beacon and draw in General Zod's forces. But because Mars has cities now, that's where they land and launch their threats and deploy the world engine, which also means Martian Manhunter will stay trapped, presumably forever.

Diana, Prometheus and their Honour Guard all go fight them. That's a bunch of supers, but we don't need anyone specific, just that every soldier there is special in some fashion. They're all wearing spacesuits modeled after roman armour. They easily kill the kryptonians and claim their ship.

Diana checks the ship's computers and learns about the history of the galaxy. The enormity of the conflicts going on breaks the last of the hope she didn't remember she still had, and that's when Ares shows up. After a brief talk she does go with him, both disappearing forever.

Prometheus picks up her sword, which has since been reforged using atlantean and/or kryptonian technology, and crowns himself God-Imperator. After a brief period of the scientists figuring out the arctic ship and the captured one, he leads Earth on a ridiculously succesful conquest of his galaxy.

In about a decade he has gained control of most territories not claimed by Tamaran or the Lanterns, and are starting to threaten war with the former when his scientists figure out interdimensional travel, starting the multiversal conqueror phase approximately at the time BvS would have been, because I vaguely picture all timelines running concurrently. Don't want people suddenly travelling to Victorian World or something.

Also, if Yellow Jor-El was the traitor in Lanterns, Prometheus would have found the same world that gives kryptonians even better superpowers, and his personal armor would be tuned to provide him that atmosphere, either permanently or as a temporary battle mode.

At some point someone needs to wrestle him from behind as he threatens to use his laser vision on something, but he succesfully fights it off and destroys his target and/or the interloper.

For his eventual defeat at the end of his part of the franchise, I was vaguely thinking there could actually be two Promethei, their interdimensional empires overlapping without anyone knowing it, so that the heroes may learn that and manipulate things to pin one against the other. That probably needs too much setup for movies to do it correctly, though.

Also thought Diana (any) could meet him and run some psychological warfare, but honestly probably not. He's likely met Dianas by now, perhaps even killed a few.

And there is always kryptonite, of course. But actually in the comics is usually been a rule that kryptonite doesn't work unless it's from the same universe, which to my knowledge no movie has brought up, undestandably. That may mean I'd be obligated to make use of that, no? Is that how that works? That's probably how it works.

...and then...

...there was a bunch of details that I keep elaborating upon, which were threatening to delay this even more. I have removed them and saved them elsewhere, there will be at least one more post in this series. And so on and so forth, probably.

#my writing #fanfic #dc #dc comics #detective comics comics #long post #damn it's been a while since i had a post this long #though that's mostly thanks to trying and failing to get done on this one #since i think march?#feels good to be back on form #this one doesn't qualify for story rewrite because i ran out of stories to rewrite #worldbuilding is its own reward

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littlepadika · 4 years ago

Text

Calling Home (1) | Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...

Rating: M -> E in later chapters

Warnings: fem!reader, age gap (legal), praise kink, voice kink, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, reader is bad at Spanish, Frankie has a sexy voice 😩

Masterlist here

AN: My first fic. Pedro writers have inspired me to finally start writing again 🥺. Concept inspired by the movie RED. I hope you like it ❤️Set after triple frontier.

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time he called was an ordinary Thursday.

“Veterans Affairs, how can I help you?”

You had been working at the VA office for about two weeks. Fresh out of college you felt lucky to have a job in the first place. You went to school to be a writer but your big idea for 'The Next Great American Novel' had yet to present itself. At least here you had access to the most inspiring stories and interesting people. Men and women who had seen more and done more than you probably would in your entire life. You loved talking to clients on the phone. It was weird but something about only being able to hear people’s voices excited you. You would sometimes write little stories in your head about the people you'd talk to, filling in the details that were unknown.

Your desk accessories reflected your love of books and writing. You had your growing collection of books sitting on your desk sandwiched between baby pink bookends. Next to them was a matching desk organizer filled with your favorite sparkly pens and sticky notes. You had decorated the plain cubicle walls with posters of quotes from your favorite books. You also brought your favorite candle from home. Even though you couldn’t light it you still liked to lift it to your nose once and a while and smell it between chapters. When you weren’t on the phone or scanning documents you would read. You finished To Kill A Mockingbird in your first week on the job and were now halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.

You were starting a new chapter when Frankie Morales called the first time.

You picked up the phone on the second ring already mustering your chipper 'customer service' voice. “Veterans affairs.” You stated your name. “How may I help you?”

“H-Hi. My name is Frankie- uh-Francisco Morales." A deep voice answered you. "I’m calling because I have gotten my benefits check yet. It’s been a month. I was hoping you could tell me if it got sent?”

“Okay Mr. Morales." You flipped on the computer. "Let me check. Can you spell your last name for me?”

“M-o-r-a-l-e-s”

“Okay... let's see.” You clicked on his account. You were momentarily distracted by his picture likely taken when he graduated basic if you had to guess based off the uniform. He looked sweet. Sharp nose and strong jaw balanced by kind eyes and a shy smile. You could imagine how age would continue to soften his expression making him even more handsome. The image was a strange juxtaposition to the voice you were hearing on the phone which was much deeper and rougher. His profile said he was special forces. A pilot. The rest of the information was blacked out. Something you were used to seeing on many people's accounts but even his years of service were redacted. He must have been involved in some dangerous stuff, you thought to yourself. The dates that were not redacted were mostly in Latin America. You clicked over to processing requests. “Looks like the check got sent one week ago.” You informed him.

"I'll look again but I haven't seen anything-" It sounded like he was apologizing when clearly it was not his fault.

"No no. It's probably a mistake on our end." You interrupted. With how shitty and outdated the payroll interface was you wouldn't be surprised if there was a mix up. "I’ll go ahead and let payroll know to send another."

"Great. Thanks." He replied sounding relieved. The roughness in his voice gave way to a smooth baritone.

“No problem. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused. We'll get it sent right away." You hoped he was not relying on this benefit check for anything important. While you could promise you'd fix the problem, the administration was notoriously slow. When he didn't respond you asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Morales?”

“Uh-no" The roughness back in place. "Thank you." He paused before adding your name onto his thank you which made you smile. People usually never remembered your name.

“Alright. Have a nice day and thank you for your service.” You chirped before hanging up. The smile he put on your face lingered for a few minutes as you returned to your book.

The next time he called was exactly twelve days later.

“Veterans affairs” you answered, your routine greeting cut short as your eyes were still on your book.

“Hi- I’m calling because uh I still haven’t gotten my benefits check. This is Frankie Morales.”

“Oh Mr. Morales.” You recognized his voice even before he even said his name. You quickly shut your book, pushing your hair out of your face. Had you been thinking about him? No! Okay maybe you stared at his picture for a few minutes longer after he hung up. Yes, it was probably very unprofessional but you couldn't fight the curiosity. You were trying to rationalize the contrasting sharpness and softness of his features with his voice. How it all worked together. How one person's voice could change textures and colors so easily. You wondered what kind of things this man might have seen on the job. Most of the veterans you would help day to day did not have so many redacted missions and deployments. You were in the middle of Narcos season one so you immediately thought of drugs or something equally dangerous. After much pondering, you had come to the conclusion that Frankie Morales was both insanely attractive and insanely courageous. “Still no check, huh?”

“Nope.” He sighed the sound making the phone's shitty speaker crackle as you held it to your ear.

“Let me just check that it was approved...“ you found his profile again and scrolled to the status page. “Hmm... it says it was sent out last Friday after we spoke. That’s so weird...”

“Yeah. Really weird.” He echoed your frustration on the other end.

Typical payroll, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes. “I'll get another one sent to you right away. I'll see to it myself.” You tucked the phone under your chin and typed out a short email to Mary in payroll letting her know you'd be stopping by her office to explain the situation. You realized he hadn't hung up yet.

“Sorry for the back and forth.” You said, trying to fill the silence.

“It’s not your fault." The earlier irritation gone. "You’ve been really helpful.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring. Less gruff than it was last you spoke. Instead it was that rich baritone that you caught of glimpse of last time.

You feel your face warm at his compliment. It was this annoying reflex you had. Praise always made you blush no matter what context but it was worse when it came from a (you assume) gorgeous stranger.

“And just to verify that your address is correct- you’re on Maple Lane in Miami, Florida?”

“That’s right.” He confirmed.

“Okay. Sent!” You clicked send on the email, which caused the window to close and reveal Frankie’s profile page again. “I was curious-" You spoke before you really made the decision to speak. You didn’t want to overstep but once again your curiosity got the better of you. Honestly, you were just searching for a way to keep him on the phone. The day had been so boring.

“Your profile says you were stationed in Costa Rica.”

“For a bit.” He replied after a moment. He didn’t sound too defensive but there was definitely some tightness in his answer that made you feel bad for asking. Like you were scratching a wound.

“Did you like it? The country I mean.”

“Are you planning a trip?” He sounds a little amused.

“Yeah- well- kind of. It's more a trip in my head right now. I’d like to go there one day. It looks so beautiful.” You sighed closing your eyes trying to imagine the heat on your skin.

“It is." He agrees. "Really humid though.”

“Mm that sounds nice.” You would kill for some warm weather after such a long winter in DC.

“It was too muggy for me at times." He grumbled. "If you do go, stick to the costal areas where it’s more breezy or else you’ll just be sweating the whole time.”

“I don’t mind a little sweat” you shrugged, still thinking of the awful east coast winter you were currently suffering through. The sexual connotation of what you said hit you hard as soon as you heard the statement in its entirety. You felt your face flush again, though the man on the other end would never know.

“I’m learning Spanish!" You announced loudly trying to move the conversation past your awkwardness.

“Wow. Muy impressivo.”

“Si” you replied but after a moment you admit “I don’t really know what you said.”

Frankie laughed loudly on the other end and you couldn’t help but join in, drawing dirty looks from the elderly lady, Donna, working in the cubicle across from you. You ducked your head behind a stack of papers to avoid her glare.

“Fake it till you make it.” He chuckled.

“Maybe you should help me out.” You took on an indigent but still playful tone. “You sound better than duolingo” Your smile widened when he laughed again. His laugh was what you hoped it would be, by all your assumptions from his picture. It was an unencumbered, unburdened, rich sound with only a hit of roughness from the air behind it.

“Tell me you’re not using that dumb app to learn.” he scoffed, saying your name in an almost scolding tone.

“I’m got my thirty day streak today.” You boasted.

“You’ll be a total tourist if you go by duolingo.”

“But the owl is so cute every time I get something right!” You argued your voice taking on a more childish cadence.

“That’s how they trap you, silly girl.” He teased right back. Usually such a condescending nickname would piss you off but something about the affection behind him using it made you feel very differently. You felt warm like you were proud to be silly as long as it made him laugh.

“Then you saved me just in time, Mr. Morales.” You bit your lip. His scoffing and laughter died down on the other end.

“Frankie” He corrects you.

“Frankie…” You repeated it, smiling at how well the nick name suited the voice over the phone. Honest, sincere, and not pretentious at all. Way better than the pompous guys you know with equally stuffy names like “Edward” and “Christopher.”

“So what do you want to know?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts. “Dime”

You started asking him questions in Spanish to the best of your ability. Granted they weren't particularly probing questions. What is your name? What is your favorite color? What is your favorite animal? What's your favorite book? I am reading Gone Girl. He answered them all with patience and amusement, occasionally interrupting you to correct your pronunciation or explain what a word meant. Every time you’d repeat the word back correctly he would say something like “good” or “there you go” or “you got it”. You hated to admit that his kind words and his praise was doing something to you. You didn't even realize you were clenching your legs together unconsciously, almost in anticipation of his next correction or next answer. His low voice so sweet and encouraging against your ear, more tangible when he was speaking Spanish. You just wanted to hear more of it. Would it be this sweet in other situations? Would it get huskier or rougher? If you closed your eyes it was like he was sitting right next to you. It would be all too easy to slip into that daydream and escape the dull office.

Suddenly out of the corner of your drooping eyes you saw a flashing red light on the phone console meaning another caller was waiting.

“Shoot- i’m sorry, Frankie- I have to take this call.” You shot forward in your chair, legs uncrossing.

“Of-Of course. I should let you get back to work.” He sounded a little sad or so you hoped. You felt bad for interrupting him after you both were having so much fun. You wanted to say he could wait on hold but he killed that idea when he said, "I have work too. Technically I'm five minutes past my lunch break."

Your pout turned to a smile. He was spending his precious lunch break with you? Get a grip! you snapped at yourself.

“You’re welcome to call again if you want.” You threw out the offer in a small voice, scared you would be rejected. You peered over the cubicle wall to see if you were still being glared at. Thankfully Donna was away from her desk. Probably out for a smoke. “It’s really boring here and usually no one calls.”

“Maybe I will.” He replied and you could hear the smile behind those words. You felt your heart clench weirdly in your chest like it didn't know how to process the sudden spike in emotions.

“Bye, Frankie.” You beamed.

“Bye”

This time the smile on your face lasted for hours. Frankie’s laugh echoed around in your head, taunting you, sending your mind to the gutter. His voice went from grit to molasses on a dime. You wanted to be the one to bring out those sounds. You wanted to hear his voice bend and stretch and strain as you fucked him. What the hell is wrong with me? you screamed internally. You had never been so depraved and with a stranger no less! You clearly needed to get laid fast because this much yearning would not end well.

Frankie got the second VA check a few days later and this time he didn’t even feel bad about ripping it in half. He was already reaching for the phone to call you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: Message to be added 💕 no minors please!

#frankie morales #francisco morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #frankie morales x y/n #catfish morales #calling home series #i would die for frankie #frankie morales has a sexy voice #daddy!frankie

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inknopewetrust · 4 years ago

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A Little Chaos

Summary: A thief finds herself at the center of the kidnapping of two girls and has the attention one very attractive detective.

Pairing: Detective Loki x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Criminal activity, flirting, sexual references, brief choking, probably 16+ based on content but no explicit smut. A mention of pedophilia but nowhere near in detail.

A/N: I don't think I've ever written something like this and can I just say that I really loved it!? So, I really hope you all do too! Requests are currently CLOSED but I hope to open them soon again and with new characters to add to my list. Check out my Masterlist for all other works. Thanks so much for requesting this @mrs-blooooom! I just loved the idea so much and thanks for being so kind about all the delays!

One - pick the lock

Two - lift up the screen and frame as quietly as possible but make absolutely no rough work of it.

Three - slip on the shoe covers and assess the gloves before entering through the window.

Four - get to work.

That was always the structure, no questions asked. Though, you noticed the news beginning to trace your patterns. You had made a hit in another neighborhood two weeks ago and because the news began reporting the patters, you were sure the police weren’t far behind.

And perhaps on that particular Thanksgiving, you shouldn’t have done another–or picked that house, rather.

Detective David Loki had a million different things running through his mind on a daily basis. When a case such as the Dover-Birch one stuck itself in the middle of an already pending investigation of burglaries in the Conyer’s area, he had a hunch of who he would investigate first. But he couldn’t get to that immediately because Keller Dover convinced him and his superiors that the RV belonging to Alex Jones was the first and only way to go.

But even after interrogating the man who had a child-like innocence to him, David Loki was convinced there was something more to the story. There had to have been a connection to who burglarized the Dover’s that same night and where the girls could be... he was certain, but then he wasn’t because he wasn’t sure you were the kind of person who would kidnap two innocent girls.

On a particularly slow Tuesday, no new leads had come in and the investigation had stalled because Alex Jones had now gone missing without a trace. Although he was doing everything he could, Loki was far from finding a solution and decided to take the initiative into his own hands and dive into the file he had been working on for nearly five months–the one into you and your less-than-stellar activities. The post-it note sticking out of the side of the manilla folder contained an address to an apartment in the center of town. He plucked it out, tucked it into his pocket and walked straight out of the station.

You weren’t worried about being considered a suspect in the kidnapping of two girls. You had no connection to the Dover’s, Birches’, or the Jones’, as well as no connection to the scene of the crime. You were always careful, and the Dover’s had no security cameras. So, when your comm buzzed in the middle of the day, you weren’t expecting it to be the police.

“Hello?”

“Ms. L/n? This is Detective Loki with the Conyer’s Police Department. I have a few questions I would like to ask you.” The voice was cackled with the circuited communication buzzer but you heard the man loud and clear. You also knew exactly who that was.

Detective David Loki was an infamous creature of Conyers. One day he just seemed to sprout out of nowhere and into the public sphere, but you had known him for a while. You were never friends, and you were sure until now he didn’t even know your name, but he was the star pupil of the town. And the spotlight he was in, he absolutely hated it. Every time his picture appeared in the paper or when he had to speak on the television relayed that message and you laughed in pity. The poor man just wanted to do his job and that was one part he didn’t sign up for.

“Can I ask what this is regarding?”

“The investigation into Joy Birch and Anna Dover. I just have a few questions I’d like to ask you if you would step-”

“I’ll buzz you up.” You pressed the button and unlocked the door, opening it just enough for you to rest on the frame with one arm on the door and the other on your hip.

Another thing you knew about Detective David Loki was that he was one of the most attractive people you had ever laid eyes on. The man was a walking dream but unfortunately, on the other side of the law which was far from promising when it came to your vivid imagination.

“How nice of you to not barge into my home, Detective.” You called out to him as he appeared on the steps landing just down the hall from your door. Loki gave no smile but shoved an orange post-it into his jacket as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“This surely won’t take long.”

With a nod you moved away from the door, shutting it closed behind you. With the sudden and unexpected presence of this man who was a fine line between formal detective and loose cop, there was an urge to be exactly the opposite of what he wanted you to be. He had been trailing you for just enough time to learn patterns in your life, the people you associate with, the fact that you had a degree and a decent job. You had an apartment to call your own, a car that wasn’t stolen and yet you continued to break into people's homes and steal curious objects for what? Consignment sales? He wasn’t sure. But you weren’t going to give him the answers he was looking for. You enjoyed the life you built for yourself...even if you had to steal and sell things to arrive at ends meet to pay for everything in your life.

“So... what can I do for you?”

“Can you recall where and what you were going on the night of Thursday, November 28th?”

“Thanksgiving?” You asked with a raised brow and he nodded. Loki pulled out no notebook to take notes, rather he watched every movement. He was trying to identify guilt, but you were a casual sleuth. It wasn’t a game he was used to because all of his suspects eventually gave in.

“I got up around 8:30, maybe 9 and ate some breakfast, um I-” You took a seat on the arm of your couch, running a hand over your mouth trying to “remember” what exactly you were doing a few days ago.

“-took a shower and then got started on my dish to pass at my parents dinner. I made sweet potatoes and stuffing-or dressing... I don’t know what you call it.” Loki was far from amused that you were making this appear less than serious. He couldn’t let himself believe that you were stupid enough to believe he wasn’t there on behalf of the story that captured the attention of the entire nation, so he didn’t believe a word you said.

“When that was done I got ready, did my makeup, and headed out to my parents where my sister and her family were meeting us to have dinner. Then I left their house around 7-ish and came home.”

“After dinner you went straight home?”

“Yes.”

You looked at him with an unfazed gaze which he met but didn’t buy. It was a game. A cat and mouse game that he wasn’t willing to bite into but it was too late, you already had him on a string. Loki would be lying if he didn’t find you attractive, even in the slightest. You were a beautiful woman, and it was because of how you looked that you’ve never been caught. You always covered every inch of your body and you looked unassuming. You had a perfectly pristine house, looked like someone who didn’t need to steal to live but then again, most of the time, all the people who do steal never look like they would because that is what people are taught not to look for.

“I made some phone calls late last week and someone in your family spilled that you weren’t there. In fact, you haven’t been to a family holiday since you graduated college nearly ten years ago. Bad relationship?”

“I can assure you–whoever you talked to, they weren’t there. I was there. I can tell you what I wore, what I ate, what was on the T.V. and what color shoe my nephew was wearing that day.”

“Those could just be good guesses?” Loki let his eyes wander around the small living space. He looked at the picture frames, the vases, the bins, the T.V. stand, everything that could have screamed “out of place” to him but nothing did.

“You didn’t happen to pass two little girls on your drive home, did you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Two girls. I’m sure you’ve seen their picture on the news.” Loki pointed to the T.V. at first but then dug into his pocket and pulled out a single picture of two girls photographed on a playground. They were smiling widely and happily at the person behind the camera. You had never seen the girls so you shook your head no and crossed your arms.

“No. I’ve never seen them before. Am I supposed to?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

“What are you implying, detective?”

“Do you know the house you broke into on Thursday, November 28th was the home of Anna Dover. Anna and her friend Joy went missing that same night after returning to the Dover residence to find a whistle. You were inside the home at the time we believe the girls went missing. So, tell me–do you know where the girls are?” Loki was zoned in accusation. The man was unwavering in his tone or his assumption and you would say it was scary if you didn’t find it attractive. Why, God WHY, did the detective working on this case have to be everything you looked for in a man? It would be so much easier if he were old and wrinkled but he was far far from it.

“Detective, if I would have known you would come into my home and accuse me of kidnapping two innocent girls, I wouldn’t have answered the ring.”

“Where are the two girls? Do you know where they are?”

“No. I told you I didn’t take the girls.”

“But you were in the house? Did you see the girls?”

“I didn’t say that either.”

“What if I told you that you were a sloppy thief?”

“Excuse me?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. You were certain that you were not. There was never a time where you left as much as a trace of hair in a location that you hit.

“The bin.” Loki walked over to the T.V. stand that had three white bins tucked into slots. The bins were generally filled with junk except for one thing that the Dover’s told him went missing yesterday afternoon. A medium size blue decorative pot with yellow flowers on its sides. It was meant for shallow flowers as a table center piece that was gifted to Keller and Grace on their wedding day. Grace was distraught over it and it was sitting the left-most bin under the television. Loki pulled open the drawer and carefully took out the pot and you looked at it with a shrug.

“Where did you get this?”

“My mother.”

“I thought I told you that they told me you haven’t spoken to them in a decade?”

“Well I obviously spoke to them before that.”

“I am going to ask you again and I want an honest answer. Where did you get this pot?”

What were you supposed to do? The man literally cracked the code. If only you hadn’t chosen that house. Oh! How much easier your life would be.

“I plead the fifth.” Oh, fuck.

Loki set the pot carefully down and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. It would have been hot if you weren’t terrified of what came next. Then you made an ill-timed joke.

“You’re not pulling those out for another reason are you?” You didn’t even laugh yourself because he simply ignored it and motioned for you to stand and turn around.

“I am going to take you to the station and we will talk more there. Stand up, turn around, and give me your hands.”

“I already told you I don’t know where the girls are.” Ignored again but the feeling of him pushing your shoulder with his hand and taking your wrist was something you wished you would stop replaying in your mind.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything-”

The Conyer’s Police Station was wimpy compared to other cities. It was a small, single story brick building with three holding rooms and one interrogation room. You weren’t sure how long you sat in the holding cell, but it was nighttime by the time you were taken out of the room by another officer and into a brightly lit, slightly yellowed room with a mirrored window and a small desk with two chairs. There was a pencil and a pad of paper at the center of it but you were sure if it was going to be Detective Loki interrogating you, he wouldn’t need it.

The officer uncuffed you with no words spoken and pointed at the chair facing the window. You rubbed your wrists from the friction the metal left before taking a seat and staring into the glass where your reflection met your own. You had nothing to do with the two missing girls so you had nothing to give them, or rather, nothing to give Loki to further his investigation.

The man of the hour waltzed into the room a mere five minutes after you were sat down. He had a half-drank cup of coffee in one hand and a small grouping of papers in the other. Loki sat down, settling himself before looking up at you and beginning the interrogation.

“Please state your name, age, and address.”

You recited the information as told.

“How many homes a year do you burglarize?" Loki opened a file that was tucked under some papers with a series of pictures printed on a piece of computer paper. It was amalgamation of missing objects from families around Conyers. You were fucked, but you couldn't let him think that, or at least believe that you were guilty in anyway. Your stealing wasn't going to find those girls because you had no idea where in the world they were. You had never seen them before their faces were plastered on every hour of the news.

"Shouldn't my lawyer be here if you are going to accuse me of something?"

"Do you need a lawyer?"

"Do I, Detective?"

It was the attitude that angered him the most. A woman like you didn't need to steal. Based on your records, he had no reason to truly believe you would. Clean record. No screaming signs of intent or distrust popped out but he knew you were guilty. There was not a doubt. But there was something in that attitude that made him squirm. An attractive quality that he did not want to admit.

"If you answer the questions I ask truthfully, then no, you won't need a lawyer."

"Ask away." You leaned back in the chair with arms crossed and a determined narrowness to your eyes. It was a challenge. Try me, Detective. Do it, I dare you.

"When did you first start stealing?"

"When I was seven. My sister always had better stuff, so I took it."

"And that escalated to...what?" Instead of leaning back on his own chair, Loki leaned forward. His shoulders were hunched in an aggressive, intense tactic to scare you into admitting something that you didn't have any part of. He just wanted to find those girls and you happen to be a speed bump in the way.

"Minor petty theft. I never take anything over $500."

"How do you know what something is worth?"

"I'm sure you can find that in my file, Detective. Everything is there I am sure of it. You all know just how to frame the people you want. But I had nothing to do with those girls."

Loki's line of aggravation was growing thin. Sooner or later, attitude wasn't going to cut it and he was going to have to use the tactics he used on Alex Jones and other potential perpetrators on you. He never liked to get outright violent with women, but he couldn't let this go without trying to get something. The days were wearing thin and he needed to find Joy and Anna.

"You were in the Dover's house the night of the abduction. Where are the girls?"

"I told you I didn't have anything to do with that."

"Didn't or don't."

"Doesn't matter. I did not see them. I do not know where they are. Ruining children's lives isn't my MO, Detective-"

"But you do and you did! YOU were in that house. YOU were at the scene of the crime at the time they went missing. YOU are the one who knows what happened to those girls!" His voice was no longer steady and calm as he had been taught during his training. His string had snapped when in response, you laughed.

Loki flew out of his chair, rounded the table as the sound of his chair skidded across the floor and to the wall behind him. If you weren't so focused on him, you probably could have heard the surprised yells of the Detectives and Officers behind the mirror. The angered Detective roughly arrived at his destination–you, and grabbed the back of your hair, pulling your head back to look at him as he stood over you.

"Where the fuck are the girls?" It came out like a hiss. His eyes enraged with pain for the families and his own reputation if the case goes wrong and he doesn't find them in enough time. You weren't scared of him or his tactics. Rather, it was quite the opposite. If he wasn't attractive, you would have been disgusted but the man was the epitome of perfection and this scene would be one to get you off for years to come.

"I told you, I don't know where the girls are." He gripped your hair harder and you felt the chair waver underneath you. Still not scared.

"You're a liar, a fucking thief, and I don't believe you. Where are the girls? Do you like that sort of thing, huh? Do-"

"You sick fuck. I'm a thief not a fucking pedophile. I didn't take the girls!" You were slightly taken aback by his suggestion, but it was all a tactic. You had seen it on millions of police shows before. He just wanted answers, but he wasn't going to find them with you. Whatever in the sentence you had just spoken to him, Loki was worse off for it. He practically lifted you by the hair and charged you into the wall roughly. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make a point. He wasn't playing around but neither were you.

Loki's hand let go of your hair and one found itself on the wall next to your head as he closed in on you. You could feel his breathe on your face and his eyes pierced your goddamned soul. The other, well the other found itself right on your neck, holding you in place against the wall with a slight squeeze. Holy fuck.

"Keep this up Detective and I would have the means to believe this might lead to something else." The smile, your smile crept up on your face at your own assumption. You wouldn't complain if it did escalate to that.

"TELL ME WHERE THE GIRLS ARE? WHERE IS ANNA? WHERE IS JOY?"

"I told you I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE GIRLS ARE!"

There was something in your own anger that made him want to believe you didn't take the girls or had any clue where they were. He would hate to see a woman like you throw your life away for a career of crime. The proximity between the two of you was next to none. A knife wouldn't have been able to break the tension and the way he held you, unintentionally violent with a hand just a little too suggestively on your neck was a mistake but not one that he was readily going to admit. If this was any other situation, he might have let himself be willing to feel something more. But this was an interrogation, so he kept the face and squeezed just a little harder.

"Where are they? Tell me where they are?"

"Starting to sound like a broken record there. I would tell you again but I'm sure you have my admission of NOT KNOWING WHERE THEY ARE ON TAPE!"

Loki had enough and let your neck go with a jolt. His hands went to his belt where his cuffs were sitting and he pulled them out and turned you around. Your body was flush against the wall and one of his large, tattooed hands held your wrists together as he went to cuff them. This was another thing that would forever be engrained in your "sexy when it shouldn't be" file in your brain.

"Fine. You won't tell me where they are? Maybe a night in lock up will make you think." His voice was low, just at the base of your ear and his hot breath lingered on your neck as you could hear nothing but your heart beating out of your chest and the sound of cuffs closing.

But the man didn't get much further than that because the door to the room opened and like two deer in headlights, you both turned your heads to the sound of the intruder. It was another officer who looked both scared and amused and slightly embarrassed in regard to what he walked in on. He approached Loki as the latter man pulled you off the wall and forward, in front of him to walk toward the door.

"It was the hospital. Joy Birch was just admitted."

The look on Loki's face was priceless. You literally scoffed out loud and turned your face to his.

"I told you I had no fucking idea where they were."

Loki simply passed you over to the other officer and headed to the door, frustrated and confused about his own work and internal feelings about what had just happened–both the realization that you had no idea where they were and that he had been aggressive to the point where it kind of turned him on.

"Detective!" He was halfway out the door when you called out to him and if he had a mind, he would have ignored you and continued on, but he was so flustered that he did.

"If you ever want to use those cuffs sometime, you know where to find me."

Loki didn't say anything, but his eyes wandered. From your face to your body to the floor and back up. It was an unashamed look that made the officer uncomfortable, but you couldn't help but let a small, sly smile grace your face at his look. This man would be the end of your criminal career if he managed to find the time to reunite with you again.

And he did. Two days after Keller Dover was found in a hole and on a holiday he knew you were not going to spend with your family.

#Detective Loki x Reader #Detective Loki x Female Reader #Prisoners #Prisoners 2013 #Jake Gyllenhaal x oc #Jake Gyllenhaal x Reader #David Loki x reader #David Loki x Female Reader #Detective Loki x fem reader #Detective Loki #fanfic #writer #x reader #x female reader #i imagine after the christmas trist reader does in fact serve time for theft. but we ignore that for now.

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soundwavereporting · 4 years ago

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a coswave first date fic ft. miscommunication and cultural differences

“Hello Cosmos.”

“Uh, hi.” Cosmos looked down at his maybe-friend-slash-definitely-landlord, who was staring back at him, unreadable as always.

They lingered in silence for a moment.

“You called?” Cosmos managed, finally. While Soundwave’s hospitality certainly didn’t feel like a farce, this was the third time he had asked Cosmos to help him during his off-shift.

First, it had been installing an energon dispenser in one of the habsuite blocks. The next time, he and Soundwave had spent half the night planning the station’s duty roster for the next month.

“It is good to see you.”

“You too.” Already feeling uncomfortable, Cosmos shifted in place, feeling the sting of the finally-healed welds on his armor.

“So…” Cosmos said, after another moment of awkward silence. “You needed help with something.”

Soundwave nodded. “Your assistance: greatly appreciated.”

“Sure.” Cosmos wasn’t entirely certain how much he believed Soundwave. He was happy enough to help out, but there was just something so strange in the way Soundwave looked at him, as though he expected him to do something other than pull up a seat next to Soundwave and pick up a datapad.

Soundwave pushed an energon cube over to Cosmos, who cracked the seal and gave it an experimental sniff.

“You got the refinery fixed?”

“Affirmative.” Soundwave seemed to sit up a little straighter. “However, there is now a shortage of spare parts.”

“I can make a trip to Cybertron,” Cosmos said, without thinking. It wasn’t like there was anyone left on Cybertron who would care one way or another if he showed up, but it also meant Cosmos wouldn’t be pressured to return to active duty with the Autobots—or worse, stay on Cybertron with King Starscream or whatever he was calling himself lording over everyone.

Besides, it would be good to get off the station. Even after the few short weeks he had spent recuperating from Galvatron’s attack, Cosmos had already begun to feel like the station’s walls were closing in on him. He didn’t think he would need to leave so soon, but…

“I haven’t been cleared for active duty yet,” Cosmos said, almost apologetically, but there wasn’t a reason for him to feel bad. Was there? Soundwave had told him he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted. Cosmos, riding on the heady combination of pain suppressors and adrenaline, had just nodded. He was very sure that once Optimus called him back to the Ark, the invitation would be rescinded.

But Optimus hadn’t called him back. Personally, Cosmos thought he had been doing a good job of ignoring that fact, and was immediately irritated with himself for thinking of it. He had hoped the relative quiet and tentative peace between the Autobots and the humans and the Decepticons would have

Or maybe he wanted Cosmos to reach out first. Which would be weird. He probably had other things to worry about. That was it. Cosmos archived the thought.

“You should not push yourself,” Soundwave said, as though he hadn’t asked Cosmos to help him install an energon dispenser in a habsuite just last week.

“Yeah,” Cosmos said. “About that.”

There was a quick beat of silence before Cosmos realized Soundwave wasn’t going to interrupt. He still hadn’t gotten used to the mech’s apparent willingness to listen to him. If he was being entirely honest, most of the Decepticons on the station were generally willing to listen to him—bad jokes from the birds aside.

“I’m a little confused about…this.” Cosmos gestured lamely to the datapads on Soundwave’s desk. “It’s not that I don’t mind helping you out—I really don’t. But, uh, why me? If I’m not doing enough around the station, I can pick up another shift, but I feel like you have better things to do with your time than spending your evening with me going through paperwork—not that I mind spending time with you. I just…don’t see the point?”

Soundwave stared at him.

Cosmos felt his spark sink, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Clearly, there was a misunderstanding.”

“Clearly.” Cosmos wished the itching on his welds would stop. “About what, though?”

“Soundwave thought…” Soundwave trailed off, gripping one datapad so tightly Cosmos feared the screen might crack. “Soundwave: believed these meetings were the start of courtship.”

It was Cosmos’ turn to stare.

His systems stalled as his processor struggled to make sense of what his audio receptors had clearly heard.

“Misunderstanding,” Soundwave repeated, clearly desperate for Cosmos to say something. “Clearly. Soundwave: apologizes.”

Cosmos hadn’t failed to notice the flood of unease that teeked Soundwave’s field—and he had no doubt that Soundwave could feel his shock.

“Autobots do not date?” Soundwave sounded genuinely surprised.

“Not like this.” Cosmos tried to think back to the few dates he had been on over the course of the war. There had been stops at the dispensary, a kiss in a hallway that had been ruined because someone had noticed them, awkward flirtations between him and his on-ship contact that ran their course a year before he ever returned to base. “You thought we were dating?”

Soundwave nodded glumly. “My assumption was clearly incorrect.”

Cosmos laughed. He forced himself to set down the cube.

“Dating?” He said. “Me?”

“Affirmative.”

“Is this a Decepticon thing?” Cosmos asked. “Like how every Decepticon is required to memorize Megatron’s poetry before they receive their badge? We sit down and do paperwork together?”

“Laserbeak, Buzzsaw: lying.” Soundwave said, but continued before Cosmos could feel properly irritated at the birds. “Soundwave: made incorrect assumption that Cosmos was familiar with c—” Soundwave stopped, and didn’t seem to be able to say the word a second time. “Precursors to romantic relationships.”

“Excuse me for not thinking organizing a schedule was very romantic,” Cosmos said, then immediately regretted it when Soundwave winced.

“Apologies.” Soundwave looked like he was one wrong word away from running out of his own office.

“No—wait.” Before he could move, Cosmos reached out and grabbed Soundwave’s arm. He felt Soundwave stiffen under his touch. “Crap. I’m sorry for saying that. I was just, uh, surprised. It was rude. But you were asking me out on a date? Really?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Okay. Look, I’m not—I’m not upset?” Cosmos didn’t think he was upset. Irritated, yes, at not noticing it earlier, irritated that Soundwave hadn’t brought it up until now, but not…upset. Probably. “It’s a little flattering, I guess.”

Was it? Entirely aware that Soundwave was pointedly staring anywhere but him, Cosmos studied Soundwave. The mech wasn’t bad looking, and if he was being honest, it wasn’t as though Cosmos hadn’t thought about it. It was just very, very far down on the list of possibilities.

And he liked spending time with Soundwave—not just because Soundwave apparently liked listening to him talk. He had seen hints of a quiet, earnest energy hidden beneath Soundwave’s normally stoic nature that surfaced on the rare occasions he strung more than two sentences together.

“Why don’t we go out for drinks?” The words were out before Cosmos could think about them properly. “You know. To get to know each other better.”

“Romantic…drinks?” Soundwave spoke as though the idea was entirely foreign to him.

“Yeah.”

Wordlessly, Soundwave gestured to the cube resting in front of Cosmos.

“Oh. Oh.” He hadn’t thought himself prone to nervous laughter, but for the second time that day, Cosmos laughed. “Yeah, I guess that counts.”

Before he could second guess himself, Cosmos removed his battlemask and downed the cube in one go, desperate to buy a minute to think. He set down the empty cube.

“Tell me about yourself.”

“Soundwave…is Soundwave.”

Cosmos waited.

“Third in command of the Deceptico—” He imagined Soundwave frowning before correcting himself. “Former third in command of the Decepticons. Founder of Sanctuary Station.”

Cosmos supposed he shouldn’t have expected anything else.

“Request: Cosmos shares information.”

“Right. Uh, I’m…Cosmos, obviously. Currently serving directly under…Arcee, I guess, since Prowl’s gone. No one ever really cleared that up. Um. That’s…about it.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Hah. Yeah. I bet you guys didn’t have people up and leaving your side unexpectedly.”

“You would be surprised.” Soundwave indicated his head at the datapads. He seemed to relax incrementally, and Cosmos found himself doing the same.

“So.” Cosmos said a moment later. “When we first met…you said you had good hearing.”

“You remembered that.”

“It wasn’t exactly forgettable,” Cosmos admitted. “What did you mean by that?”

The ensuing moment of silence was awkward but…not as awkward as it had been earlier. Cosmos decided to count that as a win.

“Soundwave requests…” Soundwave trailed off. “Explanation be rescheduled to the second date.”

“Second date, huh.” Despite himself, Cosmos felt the hint of a smile beneath his faceplate. “Since the first one went so well?”

“If Cosmos is willing.”

“I think I am. Maybe after I get back from Cybertron?”

“Soundwave: would like that.”

Besides, Cosmos thought with a small amount of relief, there was something comforting about dating someone who also had a battlemask.

#coswave #transformers #mine;#soundwave #cosmos #idw #exrid #(technically set pre-prowlcoswave but. you don't need to read that au to read this ;;)#((it will go on ao3 when i think of a title))

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bloodfromthethorn · 4 years ago

Text

Misunderstandings

Their partnership might have gotten off to a bad start, but Mac has a good feeling about Jack Dalton - right up until he messes it all up, that is.

Or, the time Jack learns about Mac's fear of heights and it's still not the most important realisation he has that day.

Also on AO3

Mac had never really been sure quite what he expected from Afghanistan and now, six months in, he still wasn’t particularly confident on exactly what it was he had found. It certainly hadn’t been easy, and he’d already managed to experience the most profound loss he’d felt since the death of his grandpa, but there was still something undeniably… compelling about it all. The way he could fall into an uncomfortable bed at the end of the day exhausted but with the bone-deep knowledge that the work he had done was important, had made a difference. That there were people walking around out there, living their lives, because of the things that he had done.

It wasn’t good, precisely, but it wasn’t all bad either.

Jack was a wrench in the works. They couldn’t have gotten off to a poorer start and for a hairy moment there, Mac had been convinced that the next two months of his life were really going to be hell on earth. Jack was loud-mouthed, crass, opinionated, and had some of the worst taste in both music and film known to man. He had little to no regard for anyone else’s opinion of him and he was more than ready to settle a fight with his fists if he thought the situation called for it.

He was also probably the best soldier Mac had ever met.

It might have taken them some time to get traction but after the first few rocky missions, they’d both managed to settle down just enough to actually get a good look at one another. What Mac had found was nothing like what he’d expected.

For one, Jack was very, very good at his job. A crack shot, backed up with a keenly tactical mind that went far beyond anything Mac had been taught at basic. He’d never asked to see Jack’s file – and given that he was almost certain the man had been an Alphabet at some point, he’d probably get denied even if he tried – but he had a feeling that the record would be long, expansive, and impressive. He knew far too much about soldiering to not have been doing it most of his life and he handled a vast range of weaponry with too much familiarity to have always been saddled with Overwatch duties.

No, somewhere in his past, Jack had been crafted into an immense force to be reckoned with. He might tell jokes, laugh loudly, and act the fool, but buried underneath it all was something dangerous just waiting to be unleashed. It should have been scary – and in a distant, sort-of-intrigued kind of way, it was – but mostly Mac was just impressed. Whatever else he might have done, Jack had decided to use his extensive training to serve the purpose of protecting EOD technicians in a place where there were enemies at every corner.

More than anything, Jack made him feel safe . Safe in a way he hadn’t truly felt since watching Peña die barely twenty feet from him. After so long in the Sandbox, constantly having to watch his back as his hands took apart contraptions designed to kill him, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be out from under that constant cloud of dread. Jack gave him that freedom and Mac couldn’t help but be hopelessly thankful for it.

Of course, increasing familiarity aside, it wasn’t perfect. Two men trapped in very close quarters in a high stress environment were occasionally going to butt heads no matter what, and Mac wasn’t naive enough to think they’d be an exception.

Jack had been waylaid by a messenger as soon as the pair of them arrived back on base, both already worn out from a long, overly hot day in the sun. In an act of mercy, he’d waved Mac off to go on ahead in an attempt to spare him whatever bureaucratic nonsense was likely about to come his way – an assumption that was almost immediately proved accurate when three minutes later Mac saw him stalking off in the direction of the command centre.

He didn’t think much of it; Jack was perpetually being pulled in by the brass for reasons he was never particularly keen to explain. When directly asked, he’d always brushed it off with some sarcastic comment about how people just couldn’t get enough of his charm, but the hardness in his eyes had stopped Mac from trying to press further. If anything, it only added to his growing surety that Jack was a far more important person than he wanted to appear. Nothing Mac was doing was of particular note to anyone beyond what command already learned through his reports, but if someone with extensive training in observation and tactics was given free rein to roam the area under the radar for the sole purpose of watching what was going on – like, say, an Explosive Ordnance Disposal Overwatch – then that opened up a whole new avenue of surveillance.

If he’d had to bet, Mac would have said that according to the letter of Jack’s job description, keeping him safe was a secondary consideration at best. Fortunate, then, that the man himself didn’t seem like the type of person to do anything halfway.

Today, though, something was different. On the way back to base, Jack had been relaxed and easy, content as always to fill in Mac’s silence with a running commentary of his own about what he was most looking forward to when he got back to Texas, but clearly whatever had happened in the command tent had thrown that off. When he finally stomped into the dorm over an hour later, his brow was shadowed and tense, and he didn’t even acknowledge Mac’s presence as he grabbed a clean set of fatigues and headed for the showers.

Sitting cross legged on his bunk with his gear spread out before him, Mac watched him go with troubled eyes. Jack, as anyone in their situation did, occasionally had off days when he was less talkative and clearly wanted to be left alone, but Mac had never seen him turn on a dime quite so quickly.

Truthfully, Mac hadn’t thought him the type. But, he reminded himself forcefully, he still barely knew the man and regardless, it almost certainly wasn’t any of his business. Far better to just keep going through his kit, cataloguing anything he needed to replace or repair, and let Jack work through whatever his problem was on his own; if he wanted to talk to Mac about it, he knew where to find him.

Despite his preoccupation, Mac did end up immersed in his task. Kit checks were dull but important, and he was fastidious enough to make sure he did the job right every single time. As an EOD tech, he was lucky – everyone else had to do mandatory checks before and after any excursions outside of the FOB, no matter how frequent they may be. Officially EOD specialists were supposed to do the same but in deference to their unpredictable schedule and unique loadouts, command typically waived the usual report requirements and let them do their own thing. He was still liable to be disciplined should he get spot checked and fail, but he had a lot more freedom than most people on the base.

He was about halfway through when Jack made his reappearance, freshly washed but looking no happier for it. He dropped his dirty laundry in a heap next to his trunk and flopped down onto his bunk without a word, reaching out a few moments later to fiddle with the ancient radio beside him. He’d told Mac some time ago that he’d inherited it from his dad and it was clear from the reverence with which he spoke about it that it was deeply important to him. Important enough, apparently, that no one else sharing their tent complained when he had it blasting out whatever station he could pick up, even with the god awful crackle that all but drowned out any actual words that might try to come through.

The crackle that was evidently getting worse, going off the horrendous screech the radio let out the moment it was turned on. Mac flinched sharply at the sudden noise, but didn’t protest. Jack, if anything, looked more pissed off at the continued buzzing no matter how he adjusted the dials, rasping and hissing in turns but never letting any clear audio through. After listening to Jack cursing under his breath for a minute or two, Mac figured it was about time he offered a hand.

“That’s not sounding too good,” he pointed out unnecessarily, keeping his voice light. “Want me to take a look?”

“It’s fine,” was the short response, bitten out and frustrated.

Mac rolled his eyes, not catching the warning edge of Jack’s tone. “Look, I know I promised I wouldn’t touch any of your stuff again, but if you let me have a look, I can probably fix it.”

It was an honest offer – the radio was hardly a complicated bit of kit and Mac was pretty sure he already knew exactly what the issue was. If he was right, he could have it fixed inside of five minutes and he wouldn’t even need to cannibalise parts from anything else to do it. Sure the rule might have been that Mac couldn’t touch Jack’s gear again, but they’d been forced to relax that within a week of working together and recently it had felt more like an in-joke than anything.

Apparently, Jack didn’t feel the same.

“Or you’d just break it down for parts like you do with everything else,” he shot back acidly and for the first time, Mac realised the heaviness in Jack’s gaze wasn’t simple fatigue or irritation; he looked pissed . “Yeah, thanks but no thanks. Keep away from my stuff.”

Mac blinked. The words themselves were surprising, but it was the tone that really cut at him; sarcastic and unfriendly and mean . Mocking in a way that Jack often pretended to be when he was trying to lighten the mood, only this time neither of them was laughing. He looked dead serious.

“I-uh,” Mac said haltingly, forcing himself to suddenly adjust his entire perspective on the conversation. He really had just been trying to help. “Right,” he said after an awkward pause. “Sorry.”

He ducked his head and turned back to the gear spread out across his bunk, wishing fiercely he hadn’t bothered to open his mouth in the first place. Cleaning and sorting his kit had suddenly become a much less enthralling task – and it hadn’t exactly been the highlight of his day to begin with – but he kept his eyes down and vehemently forbade his attention from wandering back to his partner.

Less than a minute later, Jack let out a sharp sigh that might have included a curse, and stomped out of the tent. Mac refused to look up.

They didn’t talk about it. The next morning the pair of them loaded into their transport for the day – for once they’d been gifted an MRAP that in any other situation Jack would probably be crowing about – in stony silence that persisted straight through until evening. The only time Jack deigned to talk to him was for mission-critical comms, almost all of which was delivered via radio in a blank monotone that made it abundantly clear how little he actually wanted to be speaking with him. Mac surprised himself by how fiercely he found he missed the usual inane commentary in his ear.

None of it made sense.

Evidently he’d messed up somehow, done something that crossed a line he hadn’t seen, although he had no idea what it could possibly have been. Okay, yes, the radio was obviously important to Jack on some personal level Mac wasn’t allowed access to and maybe he really didn’t want Mac touching it. That was completely fair – Mac wouldn’t have argued against him at all if the man had just said ‘no’ and left it there. Instead his response had been- Well. There were a lot of words Mac could use to describe it and he didn’t really want to confront any of them.

It wouldn’t change the result either way. Mac had a sneaking suspicion that whatever it was he had broken had been something irreparable, especially if Jack wasn’t even going to let him talk it out.

The closest they came to it that day was during their last call-out for the evening, a surprisingly tricky little device some asshole had planted outside of a shop known to serve US soldiers. A bit of petty revenge most likely, but packing enough explosives to level the building and take out anyone unlucky enough to be standing within a twenty metre radius.

“Everyone within half a block of you is gettin’ out of dodge,” Jack reported about half an hour after their arrival. “No sign of whoever put that thing there.”

Mac digested that, doing a quick mental calculation to decide if the evacuation zone was large enough and ultimately deciding that it was. “Good. You set up somewhere?”

“Behind you, thirty metres back.”

There was a tell-tale tickle on the back of his neck that Mac had come to associate with Jack’s scope passing over him. At the start of their partnership it had made him uncomfortable; now, it was distantly reassuring. A part of him wanted to turn around to make sure of Jack’s position himself, but he knew that was sure to piss Jack off even more – he always got jumpy about Mac indicating his position whenever they were out in the field.

“I’m going to be a while,” he said instead of cracking a joke. “This thing’s complicated.”

“Fast as you can.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

There was a telling silence where a sarcastic retort would normally sit, and Mac had to pause for a second to remind himself that the IED in front of him needed his attention far more than his own unimportant tribulations. It wasn’t until another ten minutes had passed that he spoke again. “Okay, I’ve figured out what I’ve got to do, but I’m going to need some of your gum.”

He said it mostly without thinking, too used to being able to just state what he needed and for Jack to freely offer up whatever it was, albeit with some bellyaching about having to give up his stuff. The words were already out of his mouth before he remembered how vehemently Jack had been against Mac being anywhere near his personal possessions just yesterday.

Fortunately, Jack seemed to understand the urgency of the situation, because he simply sighed before saying, “Copy that. On my way to you.”

He didn’t offer any further protest when he appeared at Mac’s back either, handing over the stick of gum without a word, then hunkering down in the alleyway to keep watch with his rifle balanced on his knee. It was strangely normal for all that had come before, except for the silence that still hung over them like a cloud.

Exhausted, and with bigger things to focus on, Mac just went about his job and didn’t say another word.

Jack’s mood continued over the next few days, with little sign of abating. It would have been much easier to bear if Mac had any clue what exactly had triggered it beyond the vague sense that this was all somehow his fault, but it wasn’t like he could just walk up to the man and ask. Any time he’d even thought about striking up conversation or doing anything to try to make peace, Jack’s responses had been sharp and to the point. He didn’t want to talk, that much was clear, and Mac was nothing if not a quick learner.

After the first day of strained silence, he figured it was better to just keep his mouth shut and stay out of Jack’s way.

One thing he hadn’t really counted on was how strange it would feel now to be wandering around base on his own. Since being paired up with Jack, he’d hardly had a minute to himself – the man took his Overwatch duties very seriously even in the relative safety of the FOB – but now he was apparently free to roam as he pleased. Almost as soon as they returned to base each day, Jack took himself off to places unknown with a determined sort of look on his face and usually didn’t reappear again until he fell into bed beside Mac’s at night. Mac very firmly did not think about what that said about Jack’s newly-discovered ambivalence towards his safety. Now, after only a month of that partnership, it felt almost unnatural to be alone again.

At the very least it meant that he was free to go and eat whenever he felt like it, rather than having to bend around Jack’s schedule. It was that line of reasoning that had him heading towards the mess that evening, late enough to miss the main crowd who piled in at 7 but too early to run into the late shift teams who had a second run at things once the night had drawn in. The approach meant that he could count on getting a good table with minimal interference, but it did mean sacrificing any chance of getting decently hot food. The ‘buffet’, such as it was, would be topped up with fresh food at about 10, but for now Mac was stuck with the dried out, cooling remains that no one else had wanted earlier.

He nodded at the woman KP duty, earning an apologetic smile at the state of the food in return, then glanced around the marquee to find somewhere to sit.

A group of camp runners were huddled together in the corner, loudly engaging in a round of ‘I have it worse than you’, but otherwise the place was pretty deserted. With his pick of the tables, Mac settled himself down as far from the runners as he could get, hoping for a little bit of peace, but with no other nearby noise to drown them out, their voices washed over him all the same. They’d taken no notice of his presence beyond a quick check to make sure he wasn’t wearing officer’s stripes and in the absence of any authority, they seemed quite content to air their grievances to anyone close enough to listen.

For the most part he studiously ignored them – he had exactly zero interest in the minutiae of memos being passed around the base – and went about the business of choking down the cold food in front of him quickly enough to avoid its bland flavour.

It wasn’t until he heard a familiar name that he automatically tuned back into the conversation across from him.

“ Please ,” One of the runners was scoffing with an imperial hand wave, “As if Carter is anything to worry about. I’m the one who had to tell Dalton his reassignment request was denied. Thought he was going to take my head off when I said I didn’t know why.”

Mac froze in place, the rest of the discussion fading completely into the background as all the pieces of the puzzle he had been building snapped into place with painful efficiency. So that was why Jack had been so grouchy over the last week, why he’d been so sharp whenever Mac had tried to make conversation: he’d put in a transfer request to get away from him and been shot down. Jack wanted to leave and couldn’t. Of course.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Mac knew how he could come across, had seen how people reacted to all the weird quirks of his personality, and Jack would hardly be the first person in the world to take one look at him and start heading for the hills – hell, he’d barely crack the top hundred. And yet, despite all of that, all of his previous experience warning him that anyone could leave at any time for any reason, Mac still found himself caught wholly off guard.

He'd thought they’d been getting better. Sure, it wasn’t like they were close and half the time they could still barely stand each other, but more and more that had felt like an act they were putting on to avoid revealing they didn’t actually mind each other all that much after all. Clearly he’d been wildly wrong in that assumption. What he’d thought was increasing camaraderie was- what? Nothing but his imagination? Or maybe an attempt on Jack’s part to show the brass that he really had given their partnership an honest shot before trying to bail?

Worse than the simple rejection was how deeply unnecessary it felt. As Mac had so often been reminded, Jack only had twenty-eight days left of his tour before he was headed home for good and none of this would even matter anymore. Was he truly so unhappy with Mac’s partnership that he was going to go through the arduous process of reassignment for the sake of four weeks? He’d just had to stick it out for one more month and he would have been free and clear, and yet somehow that was still too much.

It might have been insulting if it hadn’t been so fucking painful.

But this wasn’t the place for that. None of these were revelations he should be having in the mess hall, in full view of anyone who cared to look in his direction. He shook himself forcefully, surprised to realise that his entire body had gone rigid while his mind raced in all directions, and made himself climb to his feet. There was still some food left on his plate but if it had been unappetising before, now it was positively nausea-inducing. Mac knew he wasn’t getting any of it down his throat without it making a reappearance sooner or later, so he quietly chucked the scraps in the bin, returned his tray, and retreated to the barracks as quickly as he possibly could without drawing attention.

Two of the guys were there, both camped out on their own bunks as they occupied themselves with whatever they got up to in their downtime, but neither did more than nod in acknowledgement as he made his way past them to his own bed. Truthfully, he was glad of the pseudo-privacy. He wasn’t entirely sure what he would have done if Jack had been there – most likely he would have said something regrettable – but in his absence, Mac was free to mull over this new information without interference.

A large, loud part of him demanded that he go and find Dalton right now so they could hash this out, get it all out in the open so that at the very least Mac wouldn’t have to feel so fucking stupid for ever thinking they might have been friends. He’d seen that Jack cultivated a very deliberate amiability with the other guys sharing their bunk, even if they weren’t all on the best terms, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought for even a second that his Overwatch might be turning the same trick on him. He’d been so goddamn stupid .

Another, much quieter and injured part of him kept insisting that he must have gotten something twisted, connected the wrong wires to the wrong ports, and really this was all some big misunderstanding because he couldn’t bear the alternative.

He ignored them both. As much as he might want not want it to be true, he knew what he’d heard and all the pieces fit together too perfectly for him to have somehow misconstrued their meaning. His own feelings did not affect the facts, and he’d do well to remember that. And fighting with Jack wasn’t going to solve anything, it was just going to upset what little balance they managed to actually maintain. Despite his best efforts, Dalton’s transfer request had been denied so he wasn’t going anywhere for another month – Mac could grin and bear the discomfort until then, even if it meant having to sit next to a man he’d thought a friend for every single one of those twenty-eight days.

The humiliation of it all was almost unbearable, and he knew just how easy it would be to let it become rage instead – but he wouldn’t do that. If Jack wanted to leave then he wouldn’t be the first, which meant the fault almost certainly lay with Mac and there was no point trying to punish the wrong man for it. Sure, Jack pretending they were getting along was kind of a low blow, but it was understandable; they were stuck together in extremely close quarters, might as well act like they were comfortable there, right?

Maybe Jack had had the right idea all along. Mac was the one who hadn’t gotten with the programme already.

Besides, he reminded himself firmly as he bit down on the emotions threatening to get away from him, he hadn’t signed up to be sent into an active warzone to defuse explosives to feel safe . It didn’t matter one jot that Jack had managed to give him that for a time – that wasn’t his job and Mac didn’t have any right to mourn its loss. He needed to grow the fuck up and stop looking to others to protect him – he was a soldier in the US army and it was high fucking time he started acting like it.

With a tight sigh, Mac forced his stressed body to relax and flattened himself against his bunk, glaring a hole in the canvas above him.

Just twenty-eight days, and he could be done with this mess. Four weeks. He could do that.

Despite the bedlam going on inside his head, the heat and the shade must have got the best of him because he was jolted out of a doze an hour or so later by Jack Dalton himself smacking at his foot. He twitched the limb out of range with a muffled grunt of disapproval before his brain caught up with him and he remembered everything that had transpired before he fell asleep. The faux-irritated expression he’d pulled on crumbled instantly into blankness.

Jack blinked down at him, a bemused smirk on his face. Cuttingly, it was the friendliest he had looked in days. “What happened to you?”

Mac frowned, tried to do a quick mental assessment of what he probably looked like. “What?”

“You look like someone kicked your puppy. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Did you wake me up for a reason?”

His Overwatch’s smirk faded somewhat, his eyes taking on that calculating look he normally got a few seconds before he said something much smarter and more observant than Mac would ever have credited him with when they first met. It was almost a relief – focused was a much easier expression to react to than a smile. “Seriously. What’s happened?”

“ Nothing ,” Mac stressed, trying and failing to keep a thread of annoyance out of his tone. “Do you need me for something or can I go back to sleep?”

It wasn’t the right answer, evidently. Jack’s face darkened and he thinned his lips against what was very visibly going to be an annoyed outburst, but in the end all he said was, “On your feet. We’re heading out.”

That was- unusual. He cast a quick glance at the clock. “Now? It’s going to be dark in a few hours.”

“Yeah well, tell that to the T-men. C’mon, get up. I wanna roll out in five.” With that he retreated to his own bunk to retrieve his equipment and resolutely ignored Mac.

Still confused and really wishing that he could just roll over and go back to sleep if only to avoid what was obviously going to be another uncomfortable Humvee ride, Mac obligingly scrambled to his feet and started pulling out his own gear. For all the little bits and pieces of equipment they had to keep track of, both of them kept their packs ready to go at a moment’s notice, so it was really only a matter of slipping on his jacket and vest, then stopping by the mess to refill his water bottle and grab a few energy bars before Mac found himself sliding into the passenger seat of the Humvee. Apparently more prepared than he had been, Jack was already waiting for him.

“Got a bit of a situation a few klicks out,” He announced once Mac was settled. “Looks like someone’s trying to sabotage our communications – a scout team thinks they’ve found an IED on one of our radio towers. Shouldn’t be anything too complicated for you, but there’s a lot of visibility and no cover so we need to get this done ASAP, understand? The scouts are patrolling the area and I’ll have your back, but someone might try to get lucky with a sniper, so keep your head down .”

There was a lot there to work through – most importantly just what Jack meant by on the radio tower – but he didn’t bother voicing any of those questions. He’d see the situation soon enough and his priority needed to be elsewhere. “Did the scout team say what type of device we’re dealing with?”

“Negative. Couldn’t get a good look without approaching and they figured that probably wasn’t a good idea.”

They had likely been correct in that assumption, but it didn’t make Mac’s job any easier. Approaching an unidentified device was nothing new to him, but it wasn’t something that gelled well with the speed at which Jack was evidently hoping this was going to go. If he rushed anything for fear of being shot, he ran a much higher risk of blowing the pair of them up and doing the terrorists’ job for them.

As promised, it wasn’t a long trip and within ten minutes they came to a stop in the gathering gloom, about a hundred metres away from the tower in question. The 150-metre-tall tower. God, this was not going to go well.

“When you said the device was on the tower,” He started slowly, his eyes darting around the ground supports he could see and coming up blank, “You actually meant on , huh?”

Jack snickered, either not noticing or not caring about the thread of uncertainty Mac could feel in his voice. “Hope you’re ready for some climbing.” He paused, then relented slightly by adding, “We don’t have to go the whole way. Report said it was about half way up. There’s a platform for maintenance work.”

If he had noticed the apprehension, evidently he was assuming that Mac just didn’t feel like climbing up there with all his gear dragging him down. Technically he wasn’t wrong about that – he’d just missed the why. Mac wilfully held in a shudder.

“Now, normally I’d say you should wait down here while I go up and see what I can see, but given how open this is, neither of us can risk being up there that long,” Jack said, catching him with one of his no nonsense looks. Dalton might act the fool, but he was still a highly trained army sergeant and despite everything, when he gave orders, Mac would listen. “So we’re going to go up together, okay? You’re going to keep your head down and you’re going to get that device handled as quickly as you can. We’ve not got much daylight left to work with and torches are going to be a dead giveaway of our position, so unless you desperately need more light, you keep it off. Understand?”

“Got it.”

This would really be the time to tell Jack that the very thought of going up that tower was enough to make Mac feel physically nauseous – the man was his Overwatch, he needed to know when Mac couldn’t do his job – but he bit his tongue. There was a bomb somewhere up there and he was the only person in a ten klick radius who had any chance of defusing it. His personal discomfort was nothing against the lives that could be lost should their communications chain fail.

With that in mind, he slipped out of the Humvee and shadowed Jack as he strode towards the tower, not letting himself pause to think before putting his foot on the first rung of the ladder and hoisting himself up.

Here goes nothing .

Something was off with Mac. Jack couldn’t quite put his finger on it, exactly, but he was good at reading people and he’d been watching every single move his bomb nerd made for a solid month now so he had a pretty good idea when something wasn’t right. Right now, hunched over a bomb 250 feet in the air, something was very definitely not okay .

The kid had been quiet for days, wrapped up in his own head about something or other judging by the deeply thoughtful face he’d been wearing, but it had meshed well enough with Jack’s own pisspoor mood that he hadn’t bothered to question it. Mac hadn’t seemed anything more than a little subdued, something any soldier downwind was bound to encounter now and again. Their work was hard and the constant threat of danger could weigh anyone down given enough time. Now though? Now it seemed like more.

Admittedly, the whole bomb-250-feet-in-the-air situation might have been a contributing factor, but Mac had faced down hundreds of IEDs in their time together and he’d never once flinched. Whether he was the bravest man Jack had ever met or he just genuinely had no regard for his own wellbeing was something Jack was still trying to figure out, but the point was, he shouldn’t be acting like this. The situation was far from perfect and every second they spent on that tower had Jack’s anxiety levels ratcheting up, but Mac had always kept a level head.

“How’s it coming over there?”

Mac let out a low grumble of sound, his usual stand-in for when he had too many things going on in his head to worry about actual words.

“That well, huh? Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re running out of daylight so if you wanna-”

“Rushing me isn’t helping,” Mac interrupted before Jack had a chance to finish, carefully pulling a now-disconnected wire from the bundle he had been examining.

“Ain’t trying to rush you, just letting you know-”

“Yeah, well, it’s not helping.”

Jack had worked with plenty of EOD techs who would have given him that response and it would have been the most normal thing in the world. With Mac, it was a glaring red flag. Well, that, as well as the fact that Mac hadn’t even bothered to correct Jack’s repeated assertions that they were perched on a radio mast, when he knew good and well it was actually a telecommunications tower. Momentarily lifting his head away from his rifle scope, trusting that the scouts could hold the fort for the next minute or two, Jack turned to stare at his partner. “What’s going on man?”

“I’m concentrating .”

“I’ve seen you concentrating plenty. That’s not what this is. C’mon, you’ve been weird since this afternoon – is this about the other day? ‘Cause I didn’t mean to snap at you and I’m sorry about that, but right now I need to know that you’re good to do this job.”

Mac huffed a sharp breath out of his nose in frustration, his eyes not leaving the place where he was carefully prying apart the panels of the device’s container. It wasn’t until then that Jack finally noticed the way the kid’s shoulders were up around his ears, his whole body rigid where he was hunched over. His hands didn’t shake in the slightest – a necessity in his line of work – but the rest of him was shuddering with fine tremors.

“Mac-” Jack started, alarms blaring to life in his head. He’d known something was wrong , but clearly he had deeply misjudged just how wrong until he’d actually taken the time to look. Goddamn, he was supposed to the kid’s fucking Overwatch! “I need you to talk to me man.”

There was no response so Jack put his eye back to his scope for another quick scan of the surrounding landscape – still as barren and unoccupied as before – before sliding the rifle strap back over his shoulder and turning fully to face his partner. He was far too well versed in working with EOD to ever touch Mac when he had his hands on an IED, but he only had to wait a few seconds before Mac backed up to fiddle with the tools on his knife and he was free to snatch him by the shoulder and forcibly turn him around.

“Jack, what-”

“Something’s going on with you and we are in way too dangerous a position right now for me to not know what it is so start fucking talking to me Mac.” The shoulder under his hand was rock solid with stress and the kid’s face looked bone pale in the fading light. What really grabbed his attention though was the way Mac had shot out his free hand to snatch blindly at the handrail beside him, anchoring himself where Jack had pulled him off balance. Coupling that with the sudden dart of Mac’s eyes to the yawning chasm of the drop beside them, it wasn’t exactly complicated math. “You’re afraid of heights,” he murmured with sudden realisation, his grip on Mac faltering in the face of his own surprise.

Mac’s expression twisted with some combination of resignation and guilt. “I’m doing fine. Just let me get this thing defused and we can all go home, yeah?”

“You’re afraid of heights and you didn’t think this was important information for me to know before now?” If he hadn’t still been sitting half an inch from an active explosive device, Jack would have shaken him.

“ Jack ,” Mac said, apparently also running to the end of his patience, “I’m fine. I’ve almost got this done and I really, really want to get down from here, so can you please just let me do my job while you worry about yours?”

“Looking out for you is my job, dumbass,” Jack snapped back, but he did at least let go of him and return to his post. As much as he might hate everything about this, the fact was that Mac was already here and there was an IED in desperate need of attention right in front of him. Getting that fixed and getting Mac back on the ground pronto had just become priority uno. “Work fast.”

With the dusk drawing in, it made sense to switch out his scope for the thermal one he’d thoughtfully decided to bring with him, though it did mean he’d have to zero the thing before it would be of much use to him. Then again, any shots ran the risk of drawing attention and from so high up, the sound could travel for miles without hitting anything. He held up the loose thermal scope to his eye while he mulled over the problem, making note of the scouts’ positions and checking any obvious spots for potential shooters. Still nothing.

“I’m not rushing you,” he said lowly, “But do you know what kind of timeframe we’re looking at here?”

Mac hummed absently. “Couple more minutes I think. Starting to need light though.”

Which really only meant they needed to get this over with as soon as possible, for Mac’s sake if nothing else. Jack slid the thermal scope back into its slot on his vest and tugged free the square of tarp attached to his pack. Its official use was to give him something to lie on should he need it when settling into a sniper nest, but right now it was of far more use to both of them as a light break.

“This thing isn’t going to go off if I tuck this around you both, is it?” He asked, holding the tarp where Mac could see it.

Even scared out of his mind and all but shaking with it, Mac caught onto the idea in a heartbeat. “No, we’re good. Just make sure you don’t jostle it.”

Jack did as he was bid, carefully constructing a makeshift tent around Mac and the device so he could use a torch without broadcasting his exact location to anyone in a five-mile radius. It wasn’t perfect, certainly, and from the way Mac’s breathing hitched ever so slightly the confinement was doing nothing for his nerves, but it would have to do for now. That taken care of and trusting that Mac could get on with things without further assistance, Jack returned to his rifle and performed another sweeping check of the area.

Still deserted. A quick check-in with the scouts reaffirmed his conclusion.

It was strange that someone had felt the need to climb up here to plant an IED and then hadn’t even bothered to hang around to see the fruit of their labours, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. It would hardly be the first time a would-be bomber had seen the US army rolling in and got the hell out of dodge. Regardless, Jack couldn’t help but count the seconds until he was free to get his infuriating EOD technician back into actual, honest-to-god cover.

“How’s that vertigo treating you?” He asked, more to distract his own mind from the sudden, crippling mental image of Mac being taken out by a sniper bullet Jack had no chance of stopping than out of any genuine curiosity. Mac wasn’t going to be happy until he had his feet back on terra firma, that much was clear.

“If you’re trying to help, stop. It’s not working,” was the irate reply.

Despite the gravity of their situation – literally – Jack snickered. “You’re mean as a snake when you’re uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

Mac didn’t bother responding to the dig at all. It could be down to his discomfort at their current predicament, but Jack’s instincts were warning him that there was something more going on here and he’d long since learned to trust his gut when it was trying to tell him something. Another anxious look over his shoulder revealed nothing more than that his tarp tent was mostly doing its job of stopping light spilling out into the growing darkness.

His normal go-to technique for prompting Mac to open up was teasing, but evidently that wasn’t going to get him anywhere this time. Certainly not when they were still so high in the air. Perhaps this was a conversation better saved for when the device was defused and they were back safe in the Humvee on the way back to base; at the very least, Mac couldn’t escape him that way.

Right on cue, the faint glow of Mac’s torch snapped off and his blonde head poked up out of his mini tent. “We’re good.”

“Defused?”

“Yeah. Explosives are still a risk though – we can’t leave them up here.”

Jack eyed the bulky shape still hiding beneath the tarp. “Getting that thing down isn’t going to be easy, kid.”

Mac might have scowled at that, but in the dwindling light it was hard to be sure. “I know that, but no clean-up crew is going to be getting out here until tomorrow morning and a well-placed incendiary round could still set this thing off. I can’t leave it.”

“Okay, okay, I getcha,” Jack soothed. “How’re we doing this then?”

“I can take it apart. Split the weight and the bulk between us. Nothing’s motion or impact sensitive any more so we don’t need to be that careful.”

Jack obligingly slipped off his pack and pushed it in Mac’s direction, trusting him to have a better idea of how they could get everything down safely and instead using the time to dismantle the makeshift rest he’d constructed. Attuned to each other as they were, it was the work of mere moments.

In the interests of getting Mac out of the line of fire – and back on the ground – as fast as possible, Jack ushered him down the ladder ahead of him while he radioed the scouts to fill them in. They returned a chorus of relieved gratitude and promised to maintain their position until Mac and Jack were well on their way out of there, making sure that whoever had set the device in the first place didn’t come back to try again. Already feeling exhausted and knowing he had a debrief waiting for him back on base, aside from whatever the hell was going on with his bomb tech, Jack wrestled down a sigh, and started making his way down the ladder.

He was pleasantly surprised to find Mac waiting for him at the bottom. Jack had long ago implemented a rule that Mac was to stick to his side like glue whenever they were moving in potentially hostile territory, but with whatever was going on with the kid, he hadn’t entirely expected it to hold. That it had was encouraging.

“Alright, let’s- get out of here,” Jack announced on reaching the ground, only just managing to cut himself off from saying ‘blow this joint’ . Mac might normally appreciate the gallows humour, but now was almost certainly not the time.

As if to demonstrate that point, Mac just nodded silently and fell into step just behind his Overwatch without a word.

One of the scouts had been keeping watch over their ride to make sure no one left them any nasty surprises while they were otherwise occupied, though he melted into the shadows of the night as soon as they reappeared. Comforted in the knowledge that he didn’t have to waste any more of his evening waiting for Mac to do a trap check, Jack gratefully folded himself back behind the driving seat and heaved a great sigh of relief. Mac twitched at the sound, but said nothing.

In deference to their shared fatigue, Jack let the silence reign for a solid minute before he broached the subject. “So,” he started slowly, “I get the feeling you and I need to talk.”

Mac’s eyes flicked to him too quickly to be casual, but still he stayed silent. Well, if that was the game he wanted to play, he was damn well going to have to listen, wasn’t he?

“Let’s start by saying that you not telling me about the heights thing was reckless as all hell man, and I mean really, really stupid.” He did what he could to keep the anger out of his voice, but did nothing to soften the seriousness of his tone. For their partnership to work then they needed to be able to trust each other with their flaws and weaknesses; without that, they wouldn’t stand a chance. “You gotta tell me when there’s something going on that’s going to affect your ability to do your thing, no matter what it is. It doesn’t matter if you think it’s something small or unimportant, you have to fill me in. I’m not going to judge you for it if that’s what you’re worried about, but the only way I can do my job is if you’re honest with me. You get what I’m saying to you?”

The blonde was back to his usual sullen trick of staring straight out of the windshield, seemingly seeing nothing, but he did at least incline his head. Even when they’d first been starting out, he hadn’t been this difficult.

“Right. Well. If that’s out of the way, you planning on telling me what’s going on in that head of yours? Something’s been bothering you since this afternoon and clearly it’s important. Fill me in?”

Mac’s forcefully blank expression momentarily fractured into a frown before he got it back under control. “I’m fine Jack. Just tired. I wasn’t expecting to get called out again tonight.”

That was a reasonable excuse, except for the fact he was clearly lying. “Yeah, I’m not buying that. Didn’t I just get done telling you that you needed to let me know when something was going on with you? Whatever this is, I’m pretty sure it qualifies.”

The frown reappeared and didn’t immediately melt away again. Annoyance wasn’t exactly what Jack was aiming for, but at least he was getting a response. “I think I just proved that I’m perfectly capable of doing my job.”

Jack couldn’t help the sharp sigh that escaped him as frustration started to seep into his bones. Clearly he’d miscalculated just how far from alright Mac really was in that moment. Maybe he should have been paying better attention over the last few days after all; well, lesson learned, at least. “I know you are man,” he tried as gently as he was able. “That’s not what I’m getting at. But something’s clearly thrown you off your game and I want to help if I can, okay? This job’s rough enough at the best of times; you don’t need t’be adding to the pile.”

If Mac recognised that for the olive branch it was, he made no sign of it. His only outward reaction was to return his eyes firmly to the windshield and clench his hands together to keep himself from fiddling with a piece of wire he’d been worrying at since they started driving. There was a long, strained pause; Jack desperately wanted to press the matter, but he knew Mac well enough to know that trying would only shut him down further. If Mac didn’t want to share whatever was going on in his head, then he wouldn’t – it was as simple as that.

Fortunately for Jack though, Mac had never seemed all that comfortable with expectant silences. “It’s nothing. I’m just working through something in my head. Don’t worry about it.”

“Mac… Is this about the other day? ‘Cause I meant what I said up there; I’m sorry I lost my temper. It wasn’t ‘cause of anything you did-”

“Look,” Mac said with sudden force, dispensing of his heretofore unconvincing meekness and turning to put Jack directly into his sightline. “I get it. It’s fine. I’m sorry your request got denied but it’s- We’re both stuck here, okay? We’ve got four weeks left and then you can get back home and put all of this behind you. We’ve just gotta get through one more month.”

For the first time in a very, very long time, Jack was stunned into utter silence. Mac apparently took his frozen expression for one of acceptance and turned back to stare straight ahead with a sharp nod, as though they’d come to some sort of arrangement. Jack, for his part, did his best not to crash the Humvee into a ditch as the bottom of his stomach dropped away.

Then he rethought quickly; to have this conversation he definitely needed to be able to keep his eyes on his partner and driving wasn’t exactly conducive to that. He hit the brakes and pulled over. Mac chirped in surprise.

“Okay, woah, hold on,” Jack started, turning bodily to face the man beside him. “Let’s slow it down real quick because I think I’ve missed something here. What are you talking about man?”

Mac blinked at him like he was the one acting weird. “What?”

“What what?”

The blonde scowled faintly, but it wasn’t entirely clear if it was actually directed at Jack. Regardless, he relented with a sigh. “I heard about your transfer request getting shot down. I’m guessing that’s why you were so pissed off? Well, I’m sorry about it. You shouldn’t be stuck with me if you don’t want to be.”

A lot of things suddenly made a lot of sense. Jack could have kicked himself – he would certainly have deserved it. “That’s not- You’ve not heard the whole truth there, man. Shit I’m sorry, it’s-” He bit down hard on his tongue and forced himself to get the words in order. Mac seemed willing to take his stumbling apology as an embarrassed confirmation of the story he’d so readily believed and to be honest, Jack could hardly blame him.

“It isn’t what it sounds like, I promise you,” he said carefully. “I didn’t tell you about the request and that was stupid, but I swear I wasn’t trying to get away from you.”

Mac snorted very softly, a grim smile playing at the corner of his mouth for a moment before he choked it down. In all their time together, Jack had never seen him look so bitter.

“I mean it. I don’t know what you heard, but the request was for both of us.” That got Mac’s head snapping up to stare at him in visible confusion. Jack’s chest clenched painfully with emotion he didn’t want to put a name to. “I heard a rumour we’re being shunted to Paktia to shore up the EOD team in Gardez. They’ve taken some heavy hits lately and want more hands on deck.”

Mac’s brow was furrowed, clearly not entirely trusting what he was hearing but at least willing to listen. Given the circumstances, Jack was surprised he was even allowing that much. “And you didn’t want to go?”

“Hell no,” Jack said instantly. “The Gardez boys might need help but I don’t want to put you within a hundred miles of that place. Ghazni ain’t been kind to you, but at least it hasn’t blown your fool head off; worst we’ve had to deal with here is individual cells trying to make things difficult. Paktia’s crawling with T-men.”

“All the more reason we should be there, helping.”

“Yeah, and what happens in a month when I ship out and you’re stuck there without me to watch your back, huh? I don’t know who your new Overwatch is gonna be and if I can’t be sure they’re gonna have your back, I want to at least try to keep you as safe as I can while I’m here. I put in the request to shift us to Wardak instead. It ain’t safe there either, but it would have given you a cleaner run at things.” He huffed, remembering the raging argument he’d had with the Captain when his request had been denied. Looking back, he’d been lucky to walk away without disciplinary action but he didn’t regret it for a second. “’Course, none of that matters now, since we’re heading to Gardez regardless.”

He forced himself to meet Mac’s eyes and tried not to flinch at the calculating look being shot back at him. Evidently his partner needed a moment to work out whether or not Jack was lying to him to try to save face and that-

-That hurt. It was fair, completely fair , given that Jack had given him exactly no heads up about what was happening before going behind his back to try to rearrange his life without permission, but it was still crushing to realise how badly he’d fucked up. Their start together had been rocky, to say the least, but Mac had a kind of honest goodness about him that made him impossible to dislike after about thirty minutes of knowing him. Put together with his dry humour, endless patience, and his literal, honest-to-god genius, and Jack hadn’t stood a chance of not befriending the kid. It was somewhat convenient that it was Jack’s job to watch Mac’s back, because he had the sense he’d want to spend every second he could trying to protect him.

Then again, that’s what the transfer request had been about and look how that had all turned out. God, he was such a fucking idiot.

“I should have told you all of this before I did anything, I know that. I’m really sorry for it, and I’m even more sorry that you ended up finding out the way you did. That was shitty and you didn’t deserve it for a second. But I promise you, none of it had anything to do with me not wanting to be here.”

There was a pause while Mac’s face did something complicated, then he asked quietly, “You weren’t trying to get away from me?”

“Not for a single second, kid. I would never.”

It was the honest truth and yet Jack knew instinctively that it wasn’t going to sink in in the way he wished it would. Mac hadn’t talked about home all that much in their time together, and what he had let slip had some gaping holes where family should have been; Jack was good enough at hearing what people weren’t saying to understand that at some point, someone had let the kid down badly. Now, apparently, he had to add his own name to that list.

This was all such a goddamn mess .

Whether or not he bought Jack’s attempt at reassurance, Mac did at least appear to accept the truth of his account with a small, thoughtful nod. To be honest, even if he hadn’t believed it, this was something Jack could easily prove once they were back at base by digging out the request file, but it was comforting to know that he hadn’t screwed up so badly Mac couldn’t take him at his word.

“Okay,” Mac said softly, still frowning thoughtfully but no longer twisted up with bitterness and hurt. “Okay. I understand. Sorry for leaping to conclusions, I guess.”

“You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for,” Jack replied instantly. This was not the kid’s burden to bear. “I should have told you. You have every right to be pissed as hell about it, even knowing the truth.”

“That’s not- It’s fine,” Mac said haltingly, not meeting Jack’s eyes. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”

Jack watched him for a long minute as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, taking in all the tiny little signs of distress he should have noticed days ago. It was only now that he was really looking that he could see how fucking exhausted he looked. Like the whole world had come crashing down on him and he was still trying to soldier on under its weight like nothing was wrong.

“Man, I really fucked up, huh?” He murmured quietly. Mac’s gaze twitched to him and away. Louder, he said, “I let you down and I’m sorry for that. I promise, no more secrets.”

There was a pause, then Mac seemed to decide something because he turned to look at him properly again. “That mean you’re going to tell me what you’ve been up to the last couple of days?” At Jack’s blink of surprise, he actually managed the shadow of a smile, despite everything that had happened. “What? You think just because I’m not Overwatch I’m not paying attention?”

Jack couldn’t help but grin at the spark of life returning to his partner’s tone. Of course he’d noticed when Jack had made himself scarce around the FOB. “I watch you and you watch me, huh? Should have known.” He shook his head ruefully. “Well, in that case, if you really want to know, I’ve been hitting up my contacts.”

Mac’s eyebrows rose. Jack rubbed at the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m just a grunt but I know some people okay? I figured that if I couldn’t get us reassigned from Gardez, at least I could rope in someone I trust to replace me when I’m gone. No one’s as good as me, o’course, but it would be something at least.”

It took Mac a moment to digest that, as if trying to work out what he should react to first. In the end, he settled on, “I don’t think you’re a grunt.”

That was news to him. “No?”

Mac’s smile was a careful thing, like he wasn’t sure this was something he was allowed. “You play a good game, but you know way too much about- well, everything to not have been through something more than bootcamp.”

Jack should have known that he couldn’t get anything by a kid as smart as Mac obviously was, but he was still struck with a quiet swell of pride at how easily his EOD had figured him out.

“Plus, you know you’re by far the highest ranked Overwatch sniper on base? There can’t be many sergeants electing to watch bomb nerds day in and day out.”

There was an obvious question in there, but Mac was still too unsure of the situation to ask him straight up who he’d managed to piss off to get lumped with babysitting duty. And, honestly, that was a whole can of worms that Jack really didn’t want to dig into right now – or ever, really. Instead, he deflected. “Oh? That almost sounded like a compliment. You been checking out my record?”

“No. But if I did, I’d be surprised if most of it wasn’t redacted. Am I wrong?”

He definitely wasn’t. Jack’s smile was sharp as he started up the Humvee again. “You sound like you have some idea already.”

It was a clear invitation and, with only a slight hesitation, Mac took it. “You’re observant in a way that has to be taught. You seem too well travelled for it to not have been international, so I’m guessing CIA. Then there’s the tactical stuff – command wouldn’t ask for your opinion unless you’d been involved in something important. Putting that with that team of yours you sometimes mention without meaning to, I’m guessing you were special forces of some description. That’d explain the rank too.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re stuck watching me though.”

Jack whistled in surprise. Evidently Mac had been paying much more attention than he’d given him credit for. “I’m not stuck doing anything,” he protested lightly. “I like working Overwatch; it’s more relaxing than most gigs.”

Mac shot him a wry smile. “So I’m right then?”

He chuckled easily, letting the strain of their earlier conversation start to bleed out of his shoulders as they settled back into their usual patter. He hadn’t realised until right then just how much he’d missed it and from the way Mac was leaning back in his seat, he was thinking much the same. “About pretty much everything,” he confirmed. “You’re far too smart for your own good, you know that right?”

There was a pause. “You aren’t going to tell me what branch of the special forces you were in, are you?”

“You’re a smart kid,” he said with a broad smile. “You’ll work it out.”

The scene I didn't write is in a few weeks, after Mac's done some thinking and some very careful asking around and he sidles up to Jack one afternoon and very quietly says 'Delta'. Jack smiles, says 'Hooah', and neither of them mention it again.

#MacGyver #angus macgyver #jack dalton #sandbox fic #sandbox #army days #fanfiction #my fanfic #Everyone's OOO but it's for the angst #let me have my angst #Mac and Jack

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quinncupine · 4 years ago

Text

Obscured Chapter Two: Back To Work

Chapter Word Count: 2,952

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya x Reader

Link: AO3

Previous Chapter: One

Next Chapter: Three

MASTERLIST

...

It didn't exactly surprise Izuku when the hoard of journalists jumped him once he arrived at the hero agency. They surrounded his car as soon as he parked. We wasn't sure how they could pop up that fast with all that heavy camera equipment. They probably trained for it, it seemed they literally chased leads these days.

He stepped out, wearing his signature smile he'd perfected years ago for the public. Camera's and microphones were shoved in his face as they hit him with all sorts of questions. So many talked at once that they drowned each other out.

"Deku, Deku!" Once of them shouted. "Tell us, what have you been doing these past two weeks?"

Deku didn't see a way out of the little crowd that formed around him.

"Have you been investigating the murder of Kanaye Tatsuya?" Another asked.

He gently pushed his way through, he really didn't feel like answering any questions.

"What about your wife?" Someone stubbornly blocked his path. "How is she handling all this?"

"Yes," Another added. "Where is Y/N Midoriya? What precautions are you taking to protect your family?"

They were rapid firing questions too fast for him to think of any safe answers to give.

"Do you think villains will continue to target your family?" Someone yelled above the rest of the chatter.

Izuku glanced around him, nervously flexing his hands. He'd forgotten how...persistent these reporters could be. Camera's flashed in his face. They were waiting for him to show some sort of emotion, not that they didn't know he was the emotional type, that was public knowledge by now. They were waiting for something juicy to gossip about, but he held firm, keeping that soft smile on his face as he tried to think of something to say that would satiate them for the time being. It was a hard thing to do when surrounded by wolves, ready to rip apart their prey.

"Well, I, uh..." Yeah, he was great with words. "Mr. Tatsuya's death is under police investigation. They will do everything in their power to find the one responsible."

"Are you saying that you're not involved in this case anymore?"

"I-"

Someone cut him off. "Are you happy Mr. Tatsuya is dead? He kidnapped and attacked your wife, you must hate the man."

Izuku frowned. They were trying to lure him into a trap, to get him to say something he'd eventually regret.

"Some are saying you had a hand in this?" A man shouted from somewhere within the crowd, holding his mic over a few heads. "Is that true?"

Izuku's calm façade faltered for a moment, ready to counter him, but he froze. He couldn't let himself get bested by some hungry gossipers. He looked for another escape route, but they had surrounded him with a wall of people.

One of the reporters stepped too close to Izuku, a cheeky looking redhead with a wide grin. "There are a lot of rumors out there. Some are saying a diehard fan killed him for you, yet there are others that say it was a plot devised by a drug ring based in Tokyo." She stuck the mic in his face. "What are your thoughts Deku?"

Woah, that information was not supposed to be public knowledge and based on the reactions of the others, they didn't know this info yet either. How the hell did this woman know about the Kobaruto? Someone was feeding her information.

The others went wild, tossing crazy and speculative assumptions around, waiting for him to answer the question.

"Uh..."

Fortunately, he was cut off when someone roared behind him.

"Buzz of vultures!" Bakugo yelled. "This is private property."

The reporters took one look at Bakugo and scrambled away as he stalked over. Even they weren't dumb enough to mess with someone like Katsuki Bakugo, especially if he appeared to be in a bad mood, which was most of the time. They learned early on that the now number two hero doesn't take ambush journalism kindly.

"Kacchan?" Izuku blinked. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think dumbass?" Bakugo grabbed Izuku by the collar of his jacket and dragged him into the building.

Once they were inside and out of prying eyes, Izuku freed himself, straightening out his jacket. Bakugo was wearing civilian clothes which surprised Izuku, he was supposed to be working today.

"You found something, didn't you?" Izuku's eyes widened.

Bakugo growled and kept walking. "Office, now."

Izuku caught up to him and they walked together through the building. Every time they ran into an intern or sidekick, they were stopped as they welcomed Deku back. Bakugo looked irritated, but kept his mouth shut. The entire place seemed to buzz with excitement now that Deku had returned. It had been a strange two weeks without him there.

When Izuku finally made it to his office, he saw Shoto waiting inside, leaning on one of the couches.

"Shoto," Izuku paused at the open doorway. "Is everything alright?"

Shoto straightened himself, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Yes, things are fine."

Bakugo pushed past Izuku and sneered at Shoto. "What's this bastard doing here?'

"I could say the same for you." He crossed his arms.

Izuku glanced outside before shutting the door. "Kacchan is helping me with the investigation."

"I came to offer my assistance as well."

"Pass, we got enough losers on this case as it is." Bakugo stuck his thumb at Izuku.

"Midoriya, I want to help."

Izuku looked at Shoto. He valued him as a close friend and comrade, probably his closest friend, and yet these past few weeks were strenuous on both parties. Shoto was still holding that anvil of self-hatred over his head and it was getting heavier and heavier to carry.

He blamed himself for almost seriously injuring you when they had all come to your rescue. Since then, Shoto seemed to only be distancing himself from the both of you. He barely talked to Izuku, who had tried several times to get through to him, and completely avoided you altogether, as if that would somehow fix things. Poor Momo was acting as middle-man between the two of you since Shoto refused to talk.

"Alright," He said after a long moment of debate. "But you can't keep avoiding...people. This case revolves around her."

Shoto lowered his head. "I apologize. I realize that I've been acting-"

"Like an asshole?" Bakugo supplied.

"Childish." He finished. "There is a lot of unresolved issues that I hadn't realized were still there." He looked up. "But I want to help now."

Izuku studied him. He was standing taller, a more confident shine to his eyes, something he was seriously lacking these last few weeks. Between the cracks of that old familiar wall Shoto had buried himself behind again, he saw remnants of his friend.

Izuku beckoned him to follow as he went behind his desk. He set his bag on the top and pulled out a large stack of folders. It was a mess of sticky notes, tabs, and a few coffee stains. His handwriting was scribbled in every blank space he could find, all his thoughts put in pen.

"These are the case files." He handed them to Shoto. "Everything Tsukauchi gave me."

Shoto leafed through them. "Are you sure it's the Kobaruto behind this?"

"I know they're connected somehow." He crossed his arms. "Tatsuya was dealing with them, and they're the only known suppliers of Trace."

"Trace. It's fairly new, right?" Shoto pulled out a crumpled paper and looked it over.

"Yeah, started showing up a little over six months ago." He nodded. "It's reminiscent of Trigger. They share similar traits. I wouldn't be surprised if this is some variant of it."

"Trigger. The quirk enhancing drug." Shoto looked up. "I haven't seen that in a while."

"Apparently, Trace is the new drug of choice now." Izuku narrowed his eyes. "But they're careful who they sell to. We haven't been able to catch any of the dealers yet."

"And we can't rely on the druggie's." Bakugo said. "Trace degrades your mental state." He shook his head. "No, more like shreds it. Even if Tatsuya wasn't killed, he was never going to recover after months of that kind of abuse."

"What do you know about the Kobaruto?" Shoto asked.

"That's the problem." Izuku frowned. "We know next to nothing about them. They appeared out of the blue one day with a brand new drug. They might be small, but they know how to evade us."

"That's because I wasn't looking for them before." Bakugo punched his hands together. "I'll find them and destroy every last one of those bastards."

Shoto placed the files back inside the folder as neatly as he could. The colored tabs stuck out at various angles looking like the entire might explode any second.

He tapped the top of the folder. "I'll follow up on some of these leads. I'll let you know what I find."

"Shoto," Izuku called as he turned to leave. "Don't talk to anyone else about this. For now, it's still technically in Tsukauchi's jurisdiction. There is no official co-op on this."

He nodded and left quietly, closing the door behind him.

As soon as they were alone, Bakugo rounded on Izuku. "You sure he's up for this? The bastard's been flakey as of late." He narrowed his eyes. "I can beat some sense into him."

Izuku stared at the door. "You know he's always been insecure about his fire. What happened just pushed him over the edge." He shook his head. "He won't talk to me about it and he won't even look at Y/N."

Bakugo rested his palms on the back of a chair. "He's an idiot, that's nothing new."

Izuku plopped in his chair behind the desk and rubbed his head. "You found something right?"

Bakugo glanced at the door before sitting in front of the desk. "Yeah, about that imposter at the police station. I've been looking into it."

Izuku sat up. "What did you find?"

"Nothing much." He grumbled. "If this guy was good enough to impersonate All Might, in front of Tsukauchi no less, then he's good at covering this tracks."

Izuku leaned back, folded his hands and stared out the large windows that covered half his office. The first sign of the sun was just coming over the horizon and cast gentle waves of light through the office. It usually calmed him down, but today, it seemed like his nerves were ready to break straight through the window.

"This isn't good."

"No, it isn't." Bakugo agreed. "But I did find one thing."

Izuku looked back at him.

Bakugo pulled out his phone and set in on the desk. The screen showed a grainy picture taken in the dark. It was hard to make it out, but it was clearly a figure that was running across what looked to be a rooftop. The only distinguishable trait was the blue Kabuki mask underneath a black hood.

Izuku picked up the phone and examined the picture closely. "Who is this?"

"Don't know." Bakugo crossed his arms, a deep frown on his face. "This is the only solid picture I could find. Guy's a ghost."

"You think he's connected to the Kobaruto somehow?" Izuku zoomed in on the mask.

"There's been rumors spreading around the underworld, about a man in a mask." Bakugo took the phone back.

"So how's he connected?"

"Eyewitness reports put him in their territory." He leaned forward. "I don't have any solid evidence yet, but if I had to guess, I would say he's one of their runners."

"If we can bring this guy in- Izuku stood up. "-then he could actually give us some answers."

"Now that sounds fun." Bakugo smirked. "He likes to roam the Maridun district, but he only seems to come out at night to play."

"Then we'll wait for night to head out."

"No way, this is my lead." Bakugo stood up.

"But-"

"No. Besides, you have other things to take care of." He narrowed his eyes, daring Izuku to argue.

They had a glaring contest before Izuku huffed and looked down. Again, he felt conflicted. He really wanted to track down this guy. The sooner they could solve this case, the sooner everyone could get their lives back on track. On the other hand, he didn't want to leave you alone for so long, not when there were so many serious dangers still lurking out there. He ran through all the scenarios in his mind, trying to find a way to do both, but Bakugo was right.

"Fine," He relented. "But at least bring someone with you. Shoto wou-"

"Hell no!" Bakugo yelled. "I'm not going anywhere with two face."

"Kacchan..."

Bakugo ground his teeth and looked away. "I'll bring Kirishima in on this. I trust him."

Izuku nodded. "Fine. Keep me updated."

"I'll let you know when I bring this fucker in." Bakugo pocketed his phone and turned to leave.

"Thanks," Izuku said quietly as he reached the door. "Kacchan."

Bakugo looked him over and left.

Izuku deflated into his chair, running a hand through his hair. This case was growing more and more complicated by the minute. There was just no way that Tatsuya's death was a coincidence, everyone knew that, even the media had come to the same conclusion. There was something bigger behind this, he was sure of it. That's why he didn't want to leave you, even if Ochaco and Momo were with you. You were his responsibility to keep safe and so far, he'd failed pretty miserably at that.

His phone rang, startling him. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the caller I.D. and saw your name. A million thoughts ran through his head, most of them not good, as he answered the phone.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" He practically yelled into the phone.

"What? Of course." You answered casually. "I just thought I'd call to make sure everything was going well. The media's already twisting your words."

"You know you shouldn't watch the news." He leaned back in his chair. "It'll rot your common sense."

"Yeah, well, there's not much else to do when you're stuck inside all day." You grumbled.

Izuku frowned. "I'm sorry. This is my fault-"

"Hey, what did I say about throwing self-pity parties?" You scolded.

He rubbed his eyes with a smirk. "Sorry."

"And stop it with all this sorry crap. Sorry is for idiots who actually did something stupid." You huffed. "And don't think I don't see all those heroes casually strolling past the house. I know you asked them to."

Izuku rubbed his neck. "Uh, well..."

"Yeah, yeah," You sighed. "I know you're just worried. I also know that you're keeping things from me."

"W-what do you mean?" A lump formed in his throat.

"I know there are certain things you don't tell me. Stuff about your hero work and I get that, but..." You paused. "You would tell me if there was more to this, right?"

You were smart. You could always catch him in a lie. He hated lying to you, it felt horrible, but he also hated the look that crossed your face whenever Tatsuya was brought up. It was still affecting you big time and he couldn't stand to see you so upset. Nothing good would come of it if you were let in on the case, so there was really no need to tell you. At least that's how he justified it.

"Look, Y/N, I-"

"Save it." You interrupted him. "Just go back to work...and stay safe."

"Yeah." He said quietly. "I'll be home before dinner."

"Ok. Love you." You muttered.

"Love you too."

You hung up before he could even finish, leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth. You had every right to be upset, but you were keeping it all to yourself. You didn't let Izuku in on your personal thoughts anymore like you used to. There was a growing gap between the two of you and he didn't like it one bit. Everything he did seemed to only widen that gap and he wasn't sure how to build the bridge over it.

He groaned and laid his head on the desk. The cool wood felt comforting and he closed his eyes for a minute, trying to get in the right headspace to start the day. He was scheduled to start patrols again, but at the moment, his heart just wasn't in it.

After awhile, the phone on his desk rang and he almost vaulted out of his chair to reach it. "Hello?"

"Midoriya." It was Tsukauchi. "Sorry to call so early."

It's fine chief, what is it?" Izuku felt his stomach churn, Tsukauchi's voice sounded tight.

"You know the Hashira gang?" He asked. "They run drugs, mainly operating out in the Agamar Quarter."

Izuku nodded. "Yeah, small-time. What about them?"

"We just found them."

"What do you mean?" He had an excellent guess as to what he meant.

"They were all killed last night." Tsukauchi said. "Got an anonymous tip this morning on where to find them. It's a real mess out here."

"The entire gang was taken out?" Izuku stood up, gripping onto the cord. "A gang war?"

It couldn't be a coincidence that a rival gang was just exterminated. This was a big move, one with a lot of consequences.

"Possibly. We just got here. I'll know more when I inspect the scene, but," He paused. "Well, you need to get down here. There's something you need to see."

If that didn't spell ominous, Izuku wasn't sure what would.

"I'm on my way."

It seemed he'd have to postpone patrols for a little while longer.

Tag List: @miriobaby @hmm-cats @thecindy @awilddreamerwrites @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku @sailorstupidsblog @kehlaniwwe

...

Chapter 3

If you wanna be added to the tag list just let me know!!! Thanks Loves!

#izuku midoria x reader #deku x reader #pro hero Deku #pro hero bakugo #my hero academia #bnha #mha #taken series #deku #midoriya izuku #izuku x reader #izuku x y/n #language #boku no hero academia #reader insert #midoriya x reader #pro hero todoroki #Naomasa Tsukauchi

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wordsablaze · 3 years ago

Text

All Work And No Play

day twenty nine, where the downside of dick always helping others catches up to him…

A/N: calling myself out here, dick is just collateral damage - whumptober prompt: overworked

It starts small.

His neighbour asks him to pick up some sugar and milk for her because she’s not meant to be going out due to her sprained ankle and he goes past the shops on his way back from work anyway.

“No problem,” Dick says.

And he’s not lying, it really isn’t a problem. It is a little bit of a problem when another neighbour asks him to also get his groceries if he’s doing shopping rounds for anyone who wants him to and for some reason he doesn’t correct the assumption. But it’s only one extra thing on his to-do list so he doesn’t mind.

Later, his coworker asks him to cover her shift so she can go visit her brother in the hospital. She tells him his coffee for the whole of the next week will be on her and he’s pretty sure that anyone who’d offer something like that must be genuinely desperate. Besides, it’s a fair deal and it’s more than worth accepting, so he agrees easily.

“You’re a lifesaver, Dick,” she says as she grabs her coat and leaves. She doesn’t know the half of it, but it’s nice to hear anyway.

He ends up leaving the station several hours after he’d planned, which means he has no time to grab himself some food before buying the supplies his neighbours had asked for. But that’s fine because they’re a good couple decades older than him and they’re usually so nice about his odd working hours so it’s the least he can do to pick up what they need.

It’s late by the time he finally unlocks his own front door. He slips off his shoes and leans against the wall for a moment, debating just taking a night off from patrol. The debate doesn’t last long because he spots the case file he’s been creating about the new drug shipments in Bludhaven and realises that skipping a day of patrol just because he was a little busier than usual is selfish and stupid.

“I’ll just finish up earlier tonight,” he tells himself.

Except he doesn’t.

He intends to, he really does, but apparently the federal bureau of drug dealers had unanimously decided to carry out all their operations at the same time. It’s not particularly difficult to intercept the trades because most of the people involved are amateurs but there are a lot more drugs than he’d anticipated so he ends up having to call it in and wait for the police to get there so they can seize it themselves.

He waits until he’s sure nothing is about to go wrong before heading back home, which means both he and the first rays of sunlight fall through his window at the same time.

With a groan, he drags himself over to the bathroom and showers with cold water to make sure he doesn’t doze off. It’s far from the first time he’s stayed up all night and it most certainly won’t be the last so he’s fine, he’ll just do what he usually does: align his philosophy with Tim’s and rely on caffeine for a day or so.

“Grayson! You’re needed in the conference room!” someone yells as soon as he walks into the building.

Taking the coffee he’s offered from the officer who’d promised to buy him some, he quickly makes his way to the conference room, where he’s met with a table covered in scattered papers and a whiteboard half-filled with names and question marks.

“We’re trying to locate the owners of the drugs we seized last night and you’re usually good at this sort of thing,” someone explains.

Dick nods slowly, relieved when half of the names are ones he recognises as people he’d been researching anyway. “Happy to help,” he replies.

And he would have been, had he been able to research the way he usually does. Unfortunately, he has to work entirely within the law at the precinct and what Nightwing would call routine surveillance, Officer Grayson would call stalking.

It takes him the better part of the day to legally find the leader’s base of operations, subtly nudging the rest of his team back in the right direction as best as he can every time they almost follow the wrong leads. It then takes him the better part of the night to make sure he takes out the building’s security as well as half of the gang’s guards so the police raid the next day isn’t met with any unexpected surprises or casualties.

“Will you write up the report for us?”

Dick blinks at his team and their hopeful expressions once they’re done. He wants to just go home and catch up on the hours - read: days - of sleep he's missed but everyone knows he’s the expert on this case even if they don’t know why, so he finds himself nodding. “Yeah, sure.”

Someone claps him on the shoulder and someone else hands him a pile of papers and someone else claps him on the opposite shoulder and before he knows it, he’s hunched over his desk as he tries to balance getting all the details right and not letting any extra-curricular knowledge slip through.

He’s exhausted despite the two extra cups of black coffee it had taken to stay focused on the report by the time he’s done, but he still forces himself to buy the almonds and walnuts another of his neighbours had requested he grab for them on his way back. Apparently everyone on his floor thinks he just does that now and he’s too tired to think of a way to tell them he can’t always act as their personal errand boy - he'll get around to that eventually.

It’s about ten seconds after locking his front door that his legs quit on him.

His knees buckle abruptly and he lands on the floor with a soft thud and an even softer groan. Logically, he should pull himself to his feet and make his way to the actual bed waiting for him in the next room, but his eyelids seem to have fallen down and he doesn’t have the strength to lift them back up. Dick sighs. His stomach is rumbling and his head is pounding but solving either of those problems would require getting back up and that’s simply far too much work.

Instead, he lets himself slump and shifts so he's leaning his head back against the wall, pulling his jacket tighter around himself and curling up as much as possible, deciding that everything can wait until he wakes up. The carpet is more comfortable than it gets credit for anyway, he might as well take advantage of it every now and again.

It's not that he's otherwise good at refusing requests but even if he'd wanted to, there's no way he could refuse his body not so much requesting but demanding that he finally just put himself first for once.

not the most interesting but oh well,,,

thanks for reading !! masterlist | dc sideblog: @batfamvibes

#whumptober2021 #no.29 #overworked #batman #dc #fanfiction #hurt dick grayson #dick grayson #angst #my writing #nightwhump #no beta we die like dick's concept of self care

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humans4vampires · 4 years ago

Text

Cold Heart

Context: This story was inspired by a tumblr post from tumblr user @cozycullens. The post outlined the potential for sappy holiday content that the original story lacked. The post noted that Twilight fans had to fill in the blanks; I thought it would be fun to write out what Valentine’s Day could have looked like for Edward and Bella. The timeline of this story edits the original canon, meaning the breakup in New Moon and subsequent recoupling happens earlier, allowing the pair to be reunited in time to spend both the Christmas holiday season together and Valentine’s Day. This is before the events are set in motion for the vampire army attack in Eclipse. I’d also like to mention that this story addresses a scene that occurs later in the timeline of the novel. I’ve edited it here to give Edward and Bella a bit of private time that is free of the pressures that the later happenings of Eclipse bring to the moment. In this, I have used direct quotes from Meyer’s novel, and I do not claim to own that content in any way. As stated, this is purely for fun and to share with my fellow Twilight fans.

READ PART TWO HERE

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The dull blue grey light of the morning filtered through my window in a haze, waking me gently from inconsequential dreams. My natural instincts to unfurl myself from my usual swaddle of blankets to reach for him felt empty and unnecessary. Rather, I found myself spread across my bed in a sweaty mess of fabric.

“Edward?” I said softly, propping myself up to take in the room. I blinked quickly and tried to brush the mess of my hair from my face, speaking his name again as a question. There was no reply.

I tried to think back to the night before; I didn’t think he had gone hunting. No, he had surely been with me when I fell asleep. A compilation of Victorian poetry was open face-down on his side of my bed. We made the trip to Seattle a few weeks ago to get the book I needed to get started on my research paper. I had chosen the topic of Tennyson and Rossetti as an ironic gesture toward him – my very own post-Victorian era angel. He was reading his favorites to me, his voice a velvet whisper when I had fallen asleep in his cool embrace.

No, I was sure he had been with me throughout the night. I ran my left palm over the bare sheet beside me and felt the lingering presence of his wintry skin. It was unusual for him to leave before I woke. It was my favorite part of each day, and his. I was wondering what had called him away as I picked up the heavy text to see where he had left off. As I turned the pages to face me, a small piece of paper fluttered into my lap. The note he had left in his elegant script explained his absence.

‘Who are wise in love, love most, say least. Happy Valentine’s Day, love.’

He quoted Tennyson, I was sure, but the poem he had left open was not the same one he referenced. Instead, the book was open to Tennyson’s ‘Crossing the Bar,’ which was certainly not a love poem. I scanned it quickly, trying to garner any meaning from it without success. My mind was racing elsewhere, my heart beating quickly with exultant dread. So he had gone to prepare whatever exorbitant Valentine’s Day surprise he had planned. As fate would have it, this holiday had arrived on a school day and would provide a public audience to witness the surely over-the-top display Edward had planned for me.

Edward’s obsession with making the most of my human experiences had only intensified since reaching our compromise for Carlisle to turn me after my impending high school graduation. Christmas had been a deluge of cheer and merriment thanks to Alice, who was overcompensating for lost time with me – while also, just being Alice. I was still convinced it hadn’t snowed quite as much as she’d wanted and she had somehow managed a snow machine to fill in my yard for Christmas morning. Alice had laughed off my assumptions as absurd, but Charlie was still trying to work out how our yard had had a good three feet more snow than the rest of our neighborhood.

The halls had certainly been decked in Cullen home, too. It had to be visible from space from the sheer amount of Christmas lights neatly hung on every eave and railing. For the entire month of December, the house smelled of fresh gingerbread and pine. Every surface had been transformed with fresh garlands and shiny decorations. The fireplace in the grand living room was constantly crackling a gentle fire, flickering its light against the enormous tree trimmed with ornaments gathered over the many decades of Christmases past. And the gifts – oh – I couldn’t even bring myself to continue the thought.

I was brought back to reality, the sweet valentine in my shaking hand. I took a staggered breath and made a passing glance at the clock as I rushed to the bathroom. I tried not to think about the day ahead as I dressed. Charlie had already left for the station and the rest of my morning at home seemed to move in a blur of anxiety. I stumbled out the door in a black turtleneck, jeans, bean boots, and my mustard yellow coat. I thought my very standard attire might signal Edward to my disinterest in any outlandish public displays of affection. I drove slowly to Forks High School through the rain muddled snow. My truck dredged through the sludge into the parking spot beside the familiar silver Volvo.

The parking lot was already full and busy with the usual Friday commotion. I looked out my rearview mirror to take in the pops of pink and red from the Valentine’s baubles that everyone seemed to be toting. I had always found the holiday rather arbitrary – a well-marketed event to boost the sales of chocolates and flowers. Until my mother had found Phil, Valentine’s Day was usually spent in front of the television with a pint of ice cream, two spoons, and a chick-flick. I was trying to remember the last Valentine’s Day movie my mom and I had watched together when a quick knock on my driver’s side window snapped my eyes from my rearview.

The morning’s panic melted from my bones as I took him in. Edward was standing there, my favorite crooked smile on his lips, a single and perfect red rose held up in his hand.

“Good morning,” he murmured as I opened my door and got to my feet to stand in front of him. “Did you get my Valentine?”

“Mmm,” I hummed. “Tennyson?”

He nodded, a smirk crossing his expression. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

I felt a blush beginning to mark my cheeks and looked down at my feet as he handed me my rose. He moved to rest that now empty hand above my head on the frame of my truck, leaning to tighten the space between us. His free hand swept down my jaw, his gentle fingers stopping below my chin to tilt my head up. He bent down to press his lips to mine, his cool breath sending my delicate humanity into a tailspin. The kiss was, as expected, refined… at first. Unexpectedly, he draped an arm around my body to pull me closer to his frame. He lifted me effortlessly to continue the kiss as my free hand found its way around the base of his neck and into his bronze hair.

When his response became rigid and he began to return my feet to their reluctant ground, I realized I had forgotten to breathe. My legs trembled against the sudden gravity and he steadied me as I took in sharp breaths. He chuckled lightly and shook his head.

“What am I going to do with you?” he teased.

“With any hope, that, again.”

He took a slow step back and smirked, “I do enjoy sweeping you off your feet.”

My head was still spinning as I grabbed my bag from the truck and shut the door behind me. Edward took my right hand as we walked to class, my single rose in the left.

The rest of the day continued on and I was a happy bystander to the couples declaring their love for one another throughout the day. It seemed each period passed with another sudden delivery of roses, large teddy bears, or chocolates. Joyce Lowell in Government received a loud serenade from half of the school’s marching band, her boyfriend, Aaron, the faux-conductor. Each time the door to the classroom opened my heart skipped a beat with the fresh fear that Edward might have some embarrassing demonstration planned. I wasn’t eager to hurt his feelings and so I kept the question from him all day. I had cracked by fifth period when he finally asked, “Why is your heart is thrumming like a hummingbird’s?”

“I’m worried that you have a grand romantic gesture planned,” I took a sharp breath, anxious for his response. My heart rate only increased when he shrugged and walked ahead of me into the classroom.

I was at a loss for words when he chuckled. “Am I not allowed a grand gesture on Valentine’s Day?” Panic rushed through me before he continued in a more serious tone, “Do you honestly believe that my romantic displays are akin to those of someone like Mike Newton?”

His eyes glanced down at the trinkets gathered in my arms. I thought this tradition had been left in elementary school, but it seemed my friends still enjoyed giving each other Valentine’s treats. Jessica and Angela both had given me small paper crafts and chocolates to mark the occasion. Even Tyler and Eric participated, handing out boxes of tiny heart candies.

The only class Edward could not manage to work out to have with me our senior year was math – considering my being in a far lower level than was excusable for him to fail into. This, of course, was the only class I had exclusively with Mike. I had found it funny that it bothered Edward in the slightest; until today, when Mike seized the opportunity to give me a large stuffed bear, a rather huge box of chocolates, and a clearly handmade valentine. All platonically, Mike had assured me, as he was still on-and-off with Jessica and I was still very much Edward’s – only Edward’s.

I shook my head as I fumbled to stack all of my favors onto a pile on my desk, keeping the rose in my hand to tap lightly on the tip of Edward’s nose.

He tilted his brow at my playful gesture. “You have nothing to worry about. I simply have arranged for us to have a night alone. My family have their own Valentine’s Day traditions and we’ll have the house to ourselves. For this one night could we try to forget everything besides just you and me?” he pleaded, unleashing the full force of his eyes on me. “It seems like I can never get enough time like that. I need to be with you. Just you.”

“No,” I shook my head again. “Just you is good.”

The hitch in my tone caught his attention, but he didn’t have a chance to respond. Mr. Banner began lecturing on optics and light. I couldn’t focus on Physics; I could only hear Edward’s methodic voice repeating ‘I need to be with you’ again and again. Each passing thought brought a new blush to my cheeks that I tried to hide behind a curtain of my hair. I was sure he could hear my fluttering heart, but I couldn’t focus on that either. I was entirely clouded with thoughts of him. I stared at his strong hands, folded together in front of him on the table. How I imagined them on my body a million times, his cold fingertips grazing over my bare skin in the places he refused to wander. It was all I could think of the rest of the day.

When I was back in my room, a different blur of anxiety plagued me than when I had left it in the morning. Edward and I went our separate ways after school. He had filled me in on how exactly he had planned to handle the issue of Charlie. My father was still learning to trust me again and another night out of the house was certainly going to come under some heavy interrogation. I was technically still grounded even though Edward had been following Charlie’s very strict rules to a perfect degree. I was sure that Charlie hadn’t missed the fact that it was Valentine’s Day and I could only imagine the things he would think Edward and I would be doing if left alone. I was pressing the subject when Edward said, “Esme spoke with Charlie today and let him know that Carlisle is taking my brothers and I on a long-promised camping trip. You’ll be having a girls’ night with Esme, Alice, and Rosalie, as Charlie knows it. He’s been hoping you’d be spending more time with Alice soon.”

I felt a twinge of guilt for all the lying that had to be done to protect Charlie. This lie was much less to protect him from the perils of life threatening vampire attacks and much more about protecting him from the thought of his teenage daughter being alone with her boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. The guilt subsided when I remembered that I would get to be alone with Edward.

I stood in my room, hands steadying me on my dresser, knees shaking from the anticipation. The mix of emotions kept wracking me in waves. Edward had made it very clear; we could not be together physically until I was changed. My safety, was not something he was willing to jeopardize to satisfy any desire – which, to his credit, was entirely the reason I was alive. It was difficult to argue with Edward on that fact, but it was so incredibly difficult to argue with my own desires, still. And yet, I felt foolish all the same. I was so intensely human. Though he’d told me many times that he felt the same way for me, I knew he couldn’t possibly lust for me the way I did for him. I was able to reason that point logically, but part of me questioned it in this moment. Had he changed his mind?

I knew what was waiting for me at the Cullens’. It hadn’t been much more than a month since the last time I had genuinely spent the night there for a ‘girls’ night.’ Edward didn’t want me anywhere near Jacob and so Edward had been avoiding distant hunting trips to keep a close watch on me. Alice was all too eager to babysit to allow Edward a satiating hunt; it left me free to be played with as if I were her life-sized doll. That wasn’t what I was fixated on now. The image of the intricate wrought-iron bed burned in my mind. The thought of Edward and I wrapped tenderly in its golden threads made me quiver again, a sigh escaping my lips.

A knock at the front door made my heart stutter. I heard Charlie gather himself up off the couch to get the door. I stopped listening and only heard the light murmur of greetings as I rushed to find something appropriate to wear. What kind of outfit were you supposed to put together to seduce your vampire boyfriend? I was clashing hangers together across the pole, a bit frantic, when I heard her behind me.

Alice shook her head. “You look like you need to sit down. Let me handle this,” she said.

I decided it was better not to argue with her. I was, in all fairness, a mess, and there was only so much harm she could do with my own wardrobe to work with. She confidently pulled my small duffle from the top shelf of my closet and began packing things without truly looking at them. She had already seen what she would need.

I was sitting in my rocking chair when she looked back to me, still absently packing my bag. She looked like she was waiting for me to say something, but I swallowed uncomfortably rather than working up the nerve to talk.

She cast me a sympathetic smile as she removed something from my closet and tossed it toward me. “Try this,” she said.

I stood to change into the hyacinth blue sweater Alice had given it to me as a Christmas gift. Unlike many of the other fashion pieces Alice had tried to dress me in, I did like it. It was soft, probably a thin cashmere, with a plunging V neckline. It fit my frame tightly and was flattering in a way that I couldn’t justify being embarrassed by. She moved to my dresser then, digging through the very bottom drawer to pull out a short skirt she had also gifted me that I was not particularly fond of. Before I could argue, she slung it onto the bed.

“Work with me here, Bella,” she said sternly.

I pulled on the black skirt without a fight. Alice finished off my outfit with a pair of expensive black leather boots.

“And those were a gift from Esme, before you think of disputing them,” she lectured.

“No, I like them. At least they’re covering more of my skin,” I said, zipping them up.

Alice peaked her eyebrows, a smirk budding on her face as she closed my bag. I felt the rush of blood on my complexion again. “Alice – “

“Come on, let’s go before you lose it,” she said quickly, pulling my hand and leading me out of my room and down the stairs.

Charlie didn’t bother looking away from the television as we called a quick goodbye to him. Alice carried me through the slush in a movement so brief that I had no time to process it, placing me in the passenger seat of her small yellow Porsche. Forks blurred outside the windows and in the darkness of the car, it was easier for me to talk about what I was getting myself into.

“Does he…” I asked in her direction, not finishing the thought.

“I don’t think I should really say anything, Bella.” She answered, plainly.

“Since when do you keep things to yourself, Alice?”

She chuckled quietly, “Whatever I say now is not going to help. I’m just dropping you off. You’re not the only one with Valentine’s Day plans, you know.”

“That’s not fair,” I complained. “He’s seen whatever you’ve seen. He’s not going into this blind like I am.”

“Oh, yes he is,” she said proudly. “I’ve been careful to stay away from him today – and it’s not quite clear what’s going to happen. You’ve only been growing bolder in the last few hours.”

Bolder? I certainly didn’t feel it. In the light of the dashboard, I saw Alice turn to me as the car began to slow. We were already in the driveway. When the car stopped, I felt a quick breeze from the opening and closing of her door. She had slung my bag over her shoulder quickly before arriving at my door to help me to the porch steps. I doubted even Alice thought I was that uncoordinated to walk a few feet without falling; she was carrying me everywhere to keep the boots safe, I thought. She set me down on the porch and walked ahead of me into the house. I followed her in, confused.

“I thought you said you were just dropping me off?”

We were in the living room when she said, “I am. Edward isn’t here yet. He had an errand to run. He’ll be here soon and we’ll be gone – don’t worry.”

A fresh blush met my cheeks as I locked eyes with the another set in the room. Rosalie was perched on the edge of the sofa, bent over the coffee table arranging what looked like a large photo album. She had small papers and photos scattered all over the table, some in small piles on the floor beside her. She gazed up at me with the come-to-be-expected level of enthusiasm I generally received, but there was a hint of something else in her expression. It caught me by surprise and left me gawking at her silently. Rosalie’s appearance always struck me, but tonight she was especially beautiful. Her tight satin dress was just the perfect shade of red to compliment her equally satin skin, her golden hair a perfect, elegant twist, and her long bare legs crossed in front of her were only further elongated by her strappy, red stilettos. Alice had done her best with me, but I felt myself self-consciously tug at the hem of my skirt.

That inexplicable look that I had caught in Rosalie’s expression seemed to grow stronger as she gauged my assessment of her. A small smile crossed her lips as she looked back to what she was working on and I looked to Alice, who was dancing back down the stairs now. I hadn’t noticed her departure, but she was already redressed in an ensemble that mirrored the glamour of Rosalie’s. Alice bent one leg up behind her, fastening the tiny buckle on the strap of her heel, careful not to bend and crease the fabric on her burgundy slip-dress.

“Alright, Rose. Let’s not keep them waiting any longer.” Alice rolled her eyes at me quickly before Rosalie noticed. Alice had her keys in her tiny hands as she walked my direction to head for the door.

“I will see you tomorrow,” she said with a coy grin.

Rosalie was out the door faster than I could follow. I turned to Alice as she moved at a more mortal pace. “Where are you going?” I asked.

Alice waved as she replied, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Bella!” The door was shut behind her then. I heard the muffled roar of her Porsche as she and Rosalie left me behind. I assumed that I was completely alone then. I was curious to know where they were going, but my mind was busy calculating other worries. I stood in the Cullens’ living room, taking in the sheer silence. The only sound was coming from the low burning fire still crackling dimly in the fireplace. I unlocked my tense limbs to move toward the heat. I stopped briefly to survey Rosalie’s project and flipped through a couple of pages on the bound album.

Were these all valentines? I picked up a few loose papers from the table and skimmed them quickly. It seemed that Rosalie had been collecting notes from her admirers for decades, compiling the highlights in an album with cards dating back to 1929. Some of the earlier letters were from when she was still human, if I wasn’t mistaken. A few authors were brave enough to sign their names, but most were anonymous confessions. I spent more time snooping through Rosalie’s valentines than I should have, but part of me thought that she must have wanted me to see them. Why else would she have left them all here?

I focused myself again and took a seat on the edge of the hearth.

I was glad I had a moment to gather myself and took the opportunity to take a few deep, but unsteady, breaths. Why was I so unnerved? I closed my eyes and tried to summon my buried fantasies of Edward. There I let myself imagine him, pulling me tightly to his chest, letting his lips roam my jaw, my neck, and the dips of my collarbones. What would he look like bare? I’d only been able to guess the parts of him that were always just beyond my reach. I let those thoughts in too, imagining my own fingers tracing patterns around the curves of his muscles. To bring him close to me, skin to skin – the thought alone painted my face in a soft blush. I bit my lip, letting go a full breath I had been holding. I opened my eyes then and immediately found him.

He was standing across the room from me, a statue of indescribable, sculpted beauty, leaning on the wall casually. He had a peaceful expression resting in his features, but his bright golden eyes were burning with something I couldn’t explain. My favorite crooked smile slowly crossed his lips as his eyes seemed to search my body. I blushed more deeply, a decision forming more firmly in my mind.

I loved him, purely, and every ounce of my body and soul ached to be his. It was exactly the reason I had asked him to change me himself. I wanted his venom to alter me permanently, his lips on my skin to be the last human sensation I’d ever feel. I wanted to be tangibly his, forever; for Edward to lay claim to me in an absolute and eternal way. If I was his, then he was mine. This desire burned in me more brightly in this moment than it ever had. But there were other human sensations I ached for now. And suddenly, I was sure I was not willing to sacrifice them.

Edward moved slowly across the room to perch in front of me. The height of the hearth and his tall body in a crouch before me, leveled us to be equally face-to-face. As he bent, he balanced a small, thin velvet box on my knees. I made no move to open it, so he chuckled lightly and opened it to reveal a small glittering heart-shaped charm. Even in the dim firelight, the brilliant crystal’s intricate cuts glinted countless sparkling rays of color. It was hung on a silver chain as thin as thread.

He was the first to break the silence.

“It was my mother’s.” He shrugged deprecatingly. “I inherited quite a few baubles like this. I’ve given some to Esme, Alice, and Rosalie throughout the years. So, clearly, this is not a big deal in any way.” I could feel his eyes on me, but I continued to stare down, not quite ready to speak. “A hand-me-down,” he reminded me sternly. “You said that was allowable.”

“I guess I did say that,” I said in a whisper.

He chuckled at my reluctance. “I thought it was a good representation,” he continued. “It’s hard and cold.” He laughed. “And it throws rainbows in the sunlight.”

“You forgot the most important similarity,” I murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

“My heart is just as silent,” he mused. “And it, too, is yours.”

I offered the box to him and moved to gather my hair away from my neck, turning to the fire. As he moved to clasp the chain around my neck, I said, “Thank you for both.”

His fingers seemed to linger on the skin of my throat as I turned back to face him. Our lips were only inches apart now. I moved my hands to wrap them around his neck.

“No, thank you. It’s a relief to have you accept a gift so easily. Good practice for you, too.” He grinned, flashing his teeth. His eyes wandered down to take pride in his accepted gift. I was grateful for the plunging neckline of my sweater when his gaze lingered where the crystal charm hung delicately above my chest. I made a mental note to thank Alice later and took a steadying breath. I began to feel cautiously optimistic. Perhaps getting what I wanted would not be as difficult as I’d expected it to be.

No, of course it was going to be just exactly that difficult. I cleared my throat lightly and braced myself. “Can we discuss something?” I asked. “I’d appreciate it if you could begin by being open-minded.”

He hesitated for a moment and returned his eyes to mine. “I’ll give it my best effort,” he agreed, cautious now. He unwrapped my arms from around his neck as he moved to put space between us.

“I’m not breaking any rules here,” I promised. “This is strictly about you and me.”

“Listen to your heart fly,” he murmured. “It’s fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings,” he repeated the analogy he had applied to me earlier in the day. “Are you all right?”

“I’m great,” I said formally. I wondered why I was being so formal.

“Please go on then,” he encouraged.

“Well, I guess, first, I wanted to talk to you about that whole ridiculous marriage condition.”

“It’s only ridiculous to you. What about it?” He was backing further away from me now.

I leaned closer to him, placing my hands on his knees to keep him near me. “I was wondering… is that open to negotiation?”

Edward frowned, serious now. “I’ve already made the largest concession by far and away – I’ve agreed to take your life against my better judgment. And that ought to entitle me to a few compromises on your part.”

“No.” I shook my head, focusing on keeping my face composed. “That part’s a done deal. We’re not discussing that now. I want to hammer out some other details.”

He looked at me suspiciously. “Which details do you mean exactly?”

I hesitated. “Let’s clarify your prerequisites first – matrimony?” I made it sound like a dirty word.

“Yes.” He smiled a wide smile. “To start with.”

The shock spoiled my carefully composed expression. “There’s more?”

“Well,” he said, his face calculating. “If you’re my wife, then what’s mine is yours… So there would be no issue with Dartmouth tuition.”

“Anything else? While you’re already being absurd?”

“Time. I’m finding it quite ephemeral… like it’s slipping through my fingers,” as he spoke, he rose his finger tips to sweep a gentle line over my exposed collarbones.

I shook my head, trying to forget his distracting touch. “No. No time. That’s a deal breaker.”

He sighed longingly. “Just a year or two?”

I refused to give into his burning amber eyes. “What else?”

“That’s it. Unless you’d like to talk cars…”

He grinned widely when I grimaced, then took my hand and began playing with my fingers. “I didn’t realize there was anything else you wanted besides being transformed into a monster yourself. I’m extremely curious.” His voice was low and soft. The slight edge would have been hard to detect if I hadn’t known it so well.

I paused, staring at his hand on mine. I still didn’t know how to begin. I felt his eyes watching me and I was afraid to look up. The blood began to burn in my face.

His cool hand cupped my cheek. “You’re blushing?” he asked in surprise. I kept my eyes down. “Please, Bella, the suspense is painful.”

I bit my lip.

“Bella.” His tone reproached me now, reminding me that it was hard for him when I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Edward,” I said, nervous, staring at a freckle on my wrist. “There’s something that I want to do before I’m not human anymore.”

He waited for me to continue. I didn’t. My face was hot.

“Whatever you want,” he encouraged, anxious and completely clueless.

“Do you promise?” I muttered, knowing my attempt to trap him with his words was not going to work. But he was unable to resist my coaxing.

“Yes,” he said. I looked up through my lashes to see that his eyes were earnest and confused. “Tell me what you want, and you can have it.”

I couldn’t believe how awkward and idiotic I felt. I was too innocent. I didn’t have the faintest idea how to be seductive. I would just have to settle for flushed and self-conscious.

“You,” I mumbled almost incoherently.

“I’m yours.” He smiled, still oblivious, trying to hold my gaze as I looked away again.

I took a deep breath and leaned closer to him, pressing my lips to his. He kissed me back, bewildered but willing, his lips gentle against mine. I began to slide my hands from his knees, up his thighs and slowly toward his waist. I hadn’t gotten very far when I all but heard the click in his head as he put together my words and my actions, his lips freezing in place.

He pushed me away at once, his face heavily disapproving.

“Be reasonable, Bella.”

“Edward, I –. “ He had cut me off, placing a single finger over my lips to quiet me.

“No.” His face was hard.

I was surprised by my reaction to his dismissal. I raised my hand to swat at his. My action didn’t move him, of course, but he moved his hand from my mouth in response. “You are not going to shush me,” I said sternly. “We’re here discussing terms of an eternity together – marriage and other promises – but sex?” I said the word louder than the rest. “Edward, why can’t we talk about sex?”

He was frozen there, hands at his side, eyes locked on mine. I felt the charge of adrenaline passing quicker than it had come. We sat there for a moment in silence with only my quick breathing and rapid pulse as audio. I shifted my gaze down as the rush subsided. It took me a minute to recognize why I was staring at my freckle again, the blush returning – why my stomach felt uneasy, why there was too much moisture in my eyes, why I suddenly wanted to run from the room.

Rejection washed through me, instinctive and strong.

I knew it was irrational. He’d been very clear on other occasions that my safety was the only factor. Yet I’d never made myself quite so vulnerable before. It was hard to beg for the mercy of an angel.

Edward moved then, bringing his hand up to my chin to pull my face up until I had to look at him again. He scrutinized my face for a long moment while I tried unsuccessfully to twist away from his gaze. His brow furrowed, and his expression became horrified as I continued to fight off the onslaught of water in my eyes.

His other hand rushed to my cheek, his thumb stroking there reassuringly. “You know why I have to say no,” he murmured. “You know that I want you, too.”

“Do you?” I whispered, my voice full of accusation and doubt.

He held my face at my jaw now, his fingers on my neck at the base of my hair. “Of course I do, you beautiful, oversensitive girl.” He laughed once, and then his voice was bleak. “Doesn’t everyone? I feel like there’s a line behind me, jockeying for position, waiting for me to make a big enough mistake… You’re too desirable for your own good.”

It seemed like he wanted to press on, anxiety flooding him as it had me throughout the day. I took a breath.

“Tell me if I have anything wrong,” I tried to sound detached. “Your demands are marriage, college, more time, and a faster car.”

“Only the first is a demand,” he said taking a breath. “The others are merely requests.”

“And my lone, solitary demand is – “

“Demand?” he interrupted, on edge again.

“Yes, demand.” I said confidently, looping my fingers around his wrists and tugging until he dropped them. I was not going to concede, now that I knew he wanted this as badly as I did. I would have to be brave for the both of us. I kept my gaze locked on his, placing a hand on his chest to request more space between us.

Edward immediately responded, backing up slightly and resting on his knees with room in front of him. Without breaking the contact we had, I slid down so that we were both on our knees. I brought both hands to the collar of his shirt and began to unbutton slowly, never moving my eyes from his.

“Please,” I begged. “There is nothing I want more than you.”

He took a deep breath. I was surprised that it sounded a little unsteady.

“I could kill you,” he whispered.

I had the last button undone then and slid the fabric from his shoulders to the floor. I was gliding my hands down his chest and placing my lips over his heart when I murmured against his skin. “I don’t think you could.”

As I kissed him there, a low sound escaped his lips. A moan? My body ached in a way it never had. I felt electrified. My heart jolted, words tumbling out of my mouth to take advantage of the sudden uncertainty in his eyes. “Please, try,” I pleaded.

His hands were wrapped around my biceps then, his head bent down to bring his lips to my ear, making me shiver. “This is unbearable. So many things I’ve wanted to give you – and this is what you demand. Do you have any idea how painful it is, refusing you when you plead with me this way?”

“Then don’t refuse,” I suggested breathlessly.

He didn’t respond. I tossed my head back to catch my breath, letting my hair fall down behind me. Edward’s hands still held my arms firmly. “Please,” I tried again.

He bent his head to my neck. “Bella…” He shook his head slowly, but it didn’t feel like denial as his face, his lips, moved back and forth across my throat. It felt more like surrender. My heart sputtered frantically when his lips finally stopped to embrace my skin. The same low sound spilled from my lips now, which seemed to hit Edward with the same electrical shock.

His grip tensed instantly and I was sure he was going to push me away again.

I was wrong.

His lips were on mine, his hands pulling me up to close the space between us. His mouth was not gentle; there was a brand-new edge of conflict and desperation in the way his lips moved. When his hands moved into my hair, I locked my arms around his neck, tightening my hold on him. To my suddenly overheated skin, his body felt colder than ever. I trembled, but it was not from the chill.

He didn’t stop kissing me. I was the one who had to break away, gasping for air. Even then his lips did not leave my skin, they just moved to my throat. So quickly that I wasn’t even sure how it happened, I was in his arms, his lips still exploring my skin, as we nearly flew through the house. Human velocity was not fast enough for him. We were in his bedroom then, still locked in each other’s arms as he fell onto his back on the bed.

The thrill of victory was a strange high; it made me feel powerful. Brave. My hands weren’t unsteady now and my fingers traced the patterns I had dreamed of a thousand times. He was too beautiful. What was the word he had used? Unbearable – that was it. His beauty was too much to bear…

I was on top of him, our lips pulled together again and moving in heated sync. Edward’s hands were exploring my body. His hands were tight around my waist, straining me closer to him. All I wanted was my skin to be bare against his – his grip made it difficult to reach to remove my sweater, but not impossible. Just as I had my stomach exposed, cold iron fetters locked around my wrists, and pulled my hands above my head, which was suddenly on a pillow.

His lips were at my ear again. “Bella,” he murmured, his voice warm and velvet. “Stop trying to take your clothes off.”

“Do you want to do that part?” I asked breathlessly.

“Not tonight,” he answered softly. His lips were slower now against my cheek and jaw, all the urgency gone.

“Edward, don’t –,” I started to argue, trying to free my hands and arching my body to mold myself more closely to him.

“I’m not saying no,” he reassured me. “I’m just saying not tonight.”

I had never felt frustration this way before. I was restless, eyes wild and questioning on his.

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” he laughed. “Out of the two of us, which do you think is more unwilling to give the other what they want? You just promised to marry me before you do any changing, but if I give in tonight, what guarantee do I have that you won’t go running off to Carlisle in the morning? I am – clearly – much less reluctant to give you what you want. Therefore… you first.”

I exhaled with a loud huff. “I have to marry you first?” I asked in disbelief.

“That’s the deal – take it or leave it. A compromise.” Edward pressed himself to me, urging me to accept his terms. His arms wrapped around me, and he began kissing me in a way that should be illegal. Too persuasive – it was duress, coercion. I tried to keep a clear head… and failed quickly and absolutely.

“How did this happen?” I moaned, and not in a good way. “I thought I was holding my own tonight – for once – and now, all of a sudden – “

“You’re engaged,” he finished.

“Edward, no.” I objected.

“Are you going back on your word?” he demanded. He pulled back to read my face. His expression was entertained. He was having fun.

I glared at him, trying to ignore the way his smile made my heart react.

“Are you?” he pressed.

“No,” I groaned. “No. I’m not. I just need time to think. I can’t think right now – give me some time to think.”

He kissed me again quickly. Another too persuasive kiss.

“Take all the time you need.”

He kissed me another time. “Do you get the feeling that everything is backward?” he laughed. “Traditionally, shouldn’t you be arguing my side, and I yours?”

“There isn’t much that’s traditional about you and me.”

Neither of us would surrender in this moment – that was clear. But there were compromises that were pending on the horizon. And, if nothing, I had this night to service my fantasies for awhile. I bit my lip and chuckled.

“I’m curious,” I sighed. “What exactly did you have planned for tonight?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he was up and out of the bed, a hand extended toward me.

I let out my last sigh of contest and threw my hands down on the bed to heave myself up. Edward laughed to himself as I slid to the edge of the bed and stood. I fidgeted in my sweater and straightened my skirt as I walked toward him. I took his hand and noticed him taking in my figure again.

I raised a brow. “Did you want to get back in bed?”

Edward chuckled again, shaking his head. “No, but please do remind me to thank Alice in the morning.”

I rolled my eyes as he led me from his bedroom and into the rest of our romantic evening alone.

PART TWO

____

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Twilight Saga world, which is trademarked by Stephenie Meyer and Little Brown Books. All characters referenced are owned by Stephenie Meyer, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the Twilight Saga. The story told here is of my own invention. This story is for entertainment only – fun – and is not part of the official story line. I am grateful to Stephenie Meyer for the creation of these characters and I in no way am profiting from the creation and publication of this story. Some lines are directly quoted from Meyer’s book, Eclipse, and I do not claim to own Meyer’s words.

References:

Meyer, Stephenie. Eclipse. Little, Brown, 2013.

Tennyson, Alfred Tennyson, and W. E. Williams. Tennyson: Poems. Penguin, 1985.

#edwardcullen #edwardandbella #valentinesday #twilight renaissance #twilightfanfic #twilightfanfiction #twilightsaga

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

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Chapter 12 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter twelve

~|Emily Fox|~

“Can we do something tonight?” Madison asks me when we’re at school on Thursday. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long.” I shut my locker and shoulder my backpack. “I can’t tonight… I—” I realize I haven’t told her about Charlie yet, let alone about the band. “I have to work.” Madison lets out a loud groan. “You always have to work! Do you ever get a day off?” “I mean… Sunday’s are my days off?” “Yeah, but Sundays are for you and your Uncle Mitch,” she points out. Ever since Uncle Bobby’s death, Mitch and I have declared Sundays Emily-and-Mitch day. Just being together, watching movies and eating all the snacks, reminiscing about all the days with Uncle Robert. “Okay… Then how about our free period before lunch? We could just hang out in the school yard?” Madi raises an eyebrow at me, clearly not a fan of my plan. “I can’t help this, Mads, I got into a really big fight with Ash the other day and I’ve lost privileges of choosing my shifts.” I only realize I hadn’t told her about the fight with Ash either since it’s connected to Charlie and only the boys know about Charlie. Not even Mitch. Not even Madi. I want to see where it goes first before I tell anyone. I would’ve kept it from the boys too if they hadn’t barged in mid-kiss. Just thinking about that moment gives my lips the permission to curl up into a smile. “What was the fight about?” Of course she would ask that. “Uhm… Nothing too bad… Just something I…,” I trail off, trying to come up with the best excuse, “misplaced! Yeah, I misplaced something!” I sound way too excited about this. “And that’s why Ash got angry?” I nod my head slowly. This might not have been the best excuse. “She’s a little short tempered these days…” “Is she pregnant or something?” Madison actually believes me. Okay, now I feel even more like absolute shit for lying to her. But I can’t tell her. Not yet. Charlie and I has to be an us-thing before it can become an everyone-thing. “Not that I know, no…” Madison simply shrugs, says goodbye, and walks to her class, leaving me and my lying ass alone in the hallway. I take in a deep breath and head to my own class. I can’t believe I lied to my best friend about something as important as being in a band and a relationship with the cutest boy. I can’t wait to see him again tonight. “Oh, hey, Emily!” Not him. “Jake… Hey?” He gives me a teasing smirk whilst his eyes scan my entire being. “Can I help you?” I cross my arms over my chest, hoping it would protect me from this evil person-thing. “Uhm, yeah, I was wondering if you were—” Someone else I’d rather not be talking to interrupts him. “Is this underachiever bothering you, babe?” My hands ball up into fists. Customer-service-attitude, Emily. You can do this. I look up at Brianna’s tall stature. She’s actually my height, but decides to wear heels to school, just to tower over pretty much everyone, including Jake. “Actually, you’re both bothering me, so move.” There goes my customer-service-attitude. Brianna scoffs, placing her manicured hand on her chest, “Was that a threat?” “No, but it will be if you don’t get out of my way.” I push past them to make my way to my seat. I can deal with a lot of people at the Music Store, but Brianna and Jake are another level. “Don’t even bother coming to my party!” “I wasn’t planning too,” I scowl, then take a deep breath when the teacher walks in and shuts Brianna and Jake up too. You just got to get through this day and then you’ll see Charlie and the boys again. Just breathe. – Mmh, Charlie. The thought alone calms me down.

For a really long time, the Music Store has been my own little getaway. Away from people at school, away from life. Just a calming oasis for me and me alone. I don’t mind the boys ever being here, not at all. If anything, they add to that calming oasis. But that entire fata morgana of mine suddenly vanishes when Jake enters the store after school. I’ve been here for five minutes. Is this really necessary? “Can I help you?” I ask, not even bothering with my customer-service-smile. “Yeah, actually… I was wondering if you didn’t want to come to Brianna’s party this weekend? I think it’s going to be a blast.” I raise my eyebrows at him in disbelief. “I’d rather die than go to Brianna’s party, Jake. You of all people should know that.” I move away from the counter to go and help a customer at the guitars, but Jake stops me. “Just… Think about it, okay? I think it would be fun with you around?” He offers me that smile I fell in love with at one point a year ago. “Please, Emmy?” The nickname brings me straight back to planet earth. He knows what that nickname means to me. “I need to get back to work,” I tell him, and walk over to the teenage boy, staring at the guitars longingly. I grab one and hand it to him when I hear the bell ringing. I look up at the door to watch Jake walk away. Instead, I find Charlie passing him, offering Jake a kind smile. He has no clue who he’d just passed. “He didn’t look too satisfied,” he chuckles and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Yeah, no…” Should I tell him or keep it a secret? Lying to Madi feels terrible, I can’t lie to Charlie now too. “That’s Jake… My ex-boyfriend…” Charlie’s eyes widen slightly, his lips parting to let out a breath. “He asked if I wanted to come to his new girlfriend’s party, who also happens to be the biggest bitch on the planet. So…” “Do you want to go?” I frown at his assumption that I would ever even think about going to a Brianna Holly party. “No! I’d rather die than go to her stupid party.” He chuckles, then bites his lip and steps forward, grabbing my hand. “Charlie, I got work to do…” I point to the cash register where a couple customers are waiting to pay. “We could go to the party together? Show your ex-boyfriend you’ve moved on to someone better?” I raise an eyebrow as my lips turn upwards without me wanting to. “You want me to use you as some sort of trophy?” “Yes! I can be your trophy wife!” He’s doing this on purpose to make me feel better, I’m sure. “Charlie…” I breathe out and take my hand back, so I can head to the counter where the customers are getting restless. Charlie, however, just follows me like a puppy. “Brianna Holly’s party is always this big bash in her dad’s mansion where very popular bands play and people think they’re the best of the best.” I scan the customer’s items and tell them how much they need to pay, keeping my customer-service-attitude. “What if we take the band and play a song ourselves? Could be great for some exposure? And you can show Brianna what you’re made off and we can show Jake what we have?” I say goodbye to the last customer, and even before they have turned their backs to us, Charlie hops onto the counter. “No, Charles!” I know what using his full name does to him. He gives me a sharp look and tilts his head a little, which makes him look like an actual puppy. “Can we drop it?” I grab the invoices of today from the cupboard behind me and slap them against his chest. His hand moves up to mine to grab the papers from me, but instead, he just halts. “I’m still going to ask the rest of the band and they’re going to say ‘yes’.” Now he grabs the papers from my hand and gets off the counter to start sorting. “You’re such a child,” I mutter before making my way to any mess that’s been made today. I can’t stop thinking about Jake though. Why does he want me to go to the party so badly? None of it makes any sense. That’s his girlfriend’s party and he wants his ex-girlfriend to go? Make it make sense, please. “BOYS!” Charlie shouts loudly the second the boys walk inside, making them – and me – jump. “We might have our first gig on Saturday!” I roll my eyes at Charlie, but I doubt he notices. “I wouldn’t call it a gig if one of your bandmates isn’t going to be there,” I mumble, not taking my eyes off the sheet music I’m sorting through. “Who’s not going to be there?” Jeremy asks, “Is it you, Owen?” “Is it you, Owen?” Owen mimics his buddy, his voice higher than it normally is, and slaps Jeremy on the back of the head again. “What’s the gig? And why don’t you want to go, Ems?” “It’s at the annual Brianna Holly party…” I trail off and make my way to the sheet music station to put the sorted papers back. “And we don’t like Brianna Holly?” Owen gets it. “Come on, Emily! It’s going to be amazing exposure for the band! And who knows? It could be fun to go together? Do something else for a change.” Charlie really isn’t going to drop this. I just stare at him for a while, not sure what to tell him. “Let’s vote! Who wants to go?” Jeremy and Charlie both raise their hands, Owen just looks at me with that worried, anxious look of his. “Come on, Owen! You love a good party!” “I don’t want to go if Emily doesn’t feel comfortable going.” I shoot him a thankful smile. “Hey,” Charlie moves closer towards me, taking my hand in his, “I think this might be a really good opportunity, for all of us. But if you really don’t want to go, we won’t go…” “Let’s rehearse a song, if it’s not perfect by Saturday, we don’t go, okay?” I’ve never seen a smile brighter than the one on Charlie’s face right now. He kisses my hand swiftly and grabs the electric guitar he’s been using for a while now. “Let’s get to rehearsing then!” Reggie grabs his bass and Owen goes to sit behind the drums while I take my place behind the keyboard. I play a few notes before starting to sing, the boys just looking at me, awaiting their turn to play. Playing with the boys is ever so exciting. Every song we’ve played so far just sounds magical and maybe sharing that magic at Brianna Holly’s party isn’t such a bad idea. “Hearts on fire We're no liars, so we say what we wanna say I'm awakened, no more faking So we push all our fears away”

The song is perfect by Saturday, and, after a couple more rehearsals on the day – I asked Ash half the day off – we head to Brianna Holly’s party. To say I’m nervous is the biggest understatement of the century.

“We’re going to smash this,” Charlie reassures me when he notices me tense up when we enter the Holly Mansion. “I promise you.” I offer him a half-hearted smile, not being able to manage more than that.

“Oh, you came…” Brianna’s witchy voice sends shivers down my spine, “How fun.” Anyone who doesn’t note the sarcasm in her voice is probably not the brightest. “And you brought some friends, I see.” Her tongue glides across her teeth as she eyes Charlie up and down.

“Emily! You came!” Another voice I’d rather not hear today. Jake joins by Brianna’s side, wrapping his arm around her waist. Not a second later, I feel Charlie do the exact same to me.

“They were just leaving again…” Brianna gives me a sharp look, wanting to scare me.

“Actually, no… We’re not,” I don’t know where the sudden burst of confidence comes from. It might be Charlie’s arm protectively around me. Or just having the boys behind me.

I look around the enormous living room and spot the instruments tucked in a corner of the room, waiting to be played. “Looks like no band showed up, Brianna. How sad…” I turn to the boys, “What do you say, boys?” All of them shoot me a grin or a nod before I turn back to Brianna.

“Say what?!” she orders, seemingly panicking slightly.

“You’ll see,” I say and start walking towards the small stage in the corner. The boys grab their spot, and so do I. I shake my nervous hands for a second, suddenly doubting my abilities and second-guessing my choices.

“You got this,” Charlie mouths to me, and all of a sudden, my fingers begin to play the notes on the keyboard.

“Hearts on fire We're no liars, so we say what we wanna say I'm awakened, no more faking So we push all our fears away”

I look over at Jeremy, who’s closest to me, and he smiles at me, encouraging me to go on.

“Don't know if I'll make it cause I'm falling under Close my eyes and feel my chest beating like thunder”

I close my eyes for a second, letting myself get into the moment.

“I wanna fly Come alive Watch me shine”

I grab the microphone off the stand and join the boys in the middle of the stage, right between Jeremy and Charlie and grab the tambourine hanging from the microphone stand.

“I got a spark in me Hands up if you can see And you're a part of me Hands up if you're with me Now 'til eternity Hands up if you believe Been so long and now we're finally free”

The crowd at Brianna’s party gathers around the stage in curiosity. Some of them bopping their heads, some throwing their hands up. Brianna and Jake are at the back, staring at us in disbelief and maybe some jealousy.

“We're all bright now What a sight now Coming out like we're fireworks Marching on proud Turn it up loud Cause now we know what we're worth”

I place the microphone on the stand at the front, so I have one hand free to guide me through the song. Charlie then sings the pre-chorus along with me, neither of us able to keep our eyes off each other.

“We know we can make it We're not falling down under Close my eyes and feel my chest Beating like thunder”

I grab the microphone again and move to Jeremy to rock out with him a little.

“I wanna fly Come alive Watch me shine”

I wink at Owen before heading back to the mic stand for the chorus.

“I got a spark in me Hands up if you can see And you're a part of me Hands up if you're with me Now 'til eternity Hands up if you believe Been so long and now we're finally free”

I walk up to the edge of the stage to interact with some of the crowd.

“I got a spark in me Hands up if you can see And you're a part of me Hands up if you're with me Now 'til eternity Hands up if you believe Been so long and now we're finally free”

I lean over in Charlie’s direction as he’s walked closer to me already.

“I got a spark in me,

” I sing, and push the mic closer to him, so we’re sharing the mic.

“I got a spark in me,”

he echoes with a smile.

“And you're a part of me” “And you're a part of me” “Now 'til eternity” “Now 'til eternity” “Been so long and now we're finally free”

As I hit the high note, Jeremy and Charlie take the chorus again with me adlibbing in between.

“I got a spark in me Hands up if you can see And you're a part of me Hands up if you're with me Now 'til eternity Hands up if you believe” “Been so long and now we're finally free,”

I sing along before getting back to adlibbing.

“

I got a spark in me Hands up if you can see And you're a part of me Hands up if you're with me Now 'til eternity Hands up if you believe”

I move back to the keyboard now.

“Been so long and now we're finally free”

The boys stop playing their instruments as I play the last notes on the keyboard and singing the last notes of the song.

“Finally free, yeah...”

Charlie’s looking at me, that proud, puppy-like smile on his face and it gives me all the tingles. I almost forget we’re performing at a party in front of pretty much the entire school until a roaring applause sounds through the living room of the mansion. While Owen comes back from behind his drums, I join the other boys in the middle of the stage and once Owen’s there too, we take a bow. For a moment, we sulk in the attention, taking in the applause.

“That was amazing, you guys!” Jeremy shouts excitedly when we get off the stage with the sound of the people buzzing around us.

“Let’s get something to drink,” Charlie suggests when I’m stopped by a girl I know from school.

“Where did you get that outfit?!” she asks excitedly, taking the jacket between her fingers. That’s Tori, one of Brianna’s friends. She normally never talks to me.

“Should I get you something?” Charlie whispers in my ear with his hand on my lower back.

“Yeah, get me some punch, please?” he nods his head and then leaves with the boys. “I designed it, actually. A project with my uncle,” I tell her with a smile, reminded by the Sunday Uncle Mitch and I decided to have a crafty afternoon.

“It’s so pretty!” she squeals with a smile that nearly reaches her ears. “And who are those boys? They don’t go to our school right?” I shake my head.

“No, they go to a different school. I met them at the Music Store, where I work.” It feels weird talking to Tori, but a good weird. She’s so much nicer than Brianna, it makes me wonder why she’s friends with her anyway.

“They’re cute!” I smile, looking at my boys in the kitchen at the punch bowl.

“Yeah, they are.” I don’t notice Tori walking away and being replaced by someone else until I turn around and find Jake before me. “Oh, hey.” My smile fades quickly.

“Just wanted to tell you how amazing you were up there and that I’m happy you came to the party.” I nervously look back to where the boys are, hoping they’ll notice me, but their backs are turned towards me.

“Uhm, yeah… Thanks, Jake.”

“We used to be good together, didn’t we?” The question takes me aback a little.

“I mean, yeah, we

used

to…” I don’t know where this conversation is going, but I don’t like it for one second. This is giving me a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Can’t we go back to what we used to be?” He takes a step forward, and I take one back. Then his hands are on my waist, where they used to fit so perfectly back in the day. Then his lips are on mine and I’m trying my hardest to push him off me. Even turning my head away doesn’t help one bit. My sight blurs and then it’s black. Pitch black. Up until I feel several hands on me. One hand on my back, two hands on my shoulders and the ones on my waist disappear. Once my sight is back, I find Owen holding me tight and Jeremy was too until he sprung into action and tears Charlie off of Jake before he can punch my ex.

“You okay, Ems?” Owen asks, rubbing my back.

“Yeah,” I whisper, “Charlie?” I don’t think he hears me. He’s just staring at Jake and his buddies that have surrounded him, and he’s panting. “Charlie!” He seemingly snaps out of his thoughts and turns around slowly. The fire and hatred in his eyes quickly fade away when he sees me. He walks up to me and cups my face, his thumbs rubbing my cheeks. Only then I notice I’d been crying.

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly.

“Yeah, I am…” I whisper, not entirely certain myself. Owen takes a step back as Charlie wraps me up in his arms and Jeremy joins by our side too. “Can we go, though?” I don’t even dare to look at Jake. He’s never been violent during our relationship and now he does this?

“Can we hang out at the store for a while?” I ask when we’re outside the mansion to head home. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

“Do you want some alone time with Charlie?” Jeremy asks, for once a sensible question.

“No, I want all of you guys with me.” He shoots me the happiest, most sympathetic smile he’s ever given me.

At the Music Store, Charlie puts me down on the armchair at the window, wrapping me up in a blanket. It has started to rain, the droplets pattering against the glass next to me, calming me down a little. Jeremy and Owen sit down on the floor in front of me whilst Charlie has squeezed into the chair with me, his arms wrapped around me.

“At least now all of you have met my ex-boyfriend,” I chuckle, but it doesn’t get the reaction I wanted to.

“And he nearly met Charlie’s fist,” Jeremy chimes in, but not with the same humoristic tone.

“Has he always been like that?” Owen questions, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“No, he’s never been violent with me or anything. I never thought he would…” I swallow the lump in my throat, thinking about what had just happened. “He actually broke up with me when…” I look up at Charlie to find some courage, “When my Uncle died a year ago. I hadn’t left my house in a long time, didn’t eat, didn’t play any music. And Jake just got sick of it… So he broke up with me.” Charlie presses me closer towards him and kisses me on the head whilst Owen rubs my knee comfortingly.

“I’m sorry you had to get through that, Emsie,” Jeremy says, “I know what it feels like to lose a family member close to you.” I offer him a sympathetic smile, but don’t push him to tell me anything.

“He’s a real jerk, isn’t he?” goes Owen, and it makes me chuckle a little.

“That’s an understatement.”

For the rest of the night, we sit like this at the window, chatting about life. Deep subjects, funny anecdotes, … I tell them about Uncle Robert when he was still alive, and I tell them about Uncle Mitch and our Sundays. I talk about my parents kicking me out. All while Charlie holds me close and peppers me with kisses. Even in terrible situations, these boys are still here by my side and I doubt they’ll be leaving any time soon.

Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @hannahhistorian92 @gingerxarmy @marinettepotterandplagg @lovesanimals @thequirkybookaholic Lemme know if you want to be on my taglist for this story/any of my other works!

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #charlie gillespie #jeremy shada #owen joyner #charlie x oc #oc emily fox #luke patterson #reggie jatp #alex jatp #madison reyes #Julie molina

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

Text

But Once a Year (3/5)

This is a trick.

It has to be. Something Pan planned, or some nonsense only possible in Neverland, because one second Emma’s sitting outside the Echo Caves and wondering how exactly things could possibly get worse, and then the world decides to take her up on the challenge. She’s not where she was. Or when she was, either.

And the future isn’t entirely what Emma expects it to be, but that might not be entirely horrible and Christmas with a husband and a family that quite clearly loves her is only kind of messing with her head. God bless us, every one.

————

Rating: T Word Count: 9K and change, but also stuff happens AN: I cannot tell you guys how much I appreciate you continuing to appreciate this story. It’s exceptionally nice, and I think you’re wonderful. Here’s a whole slew of feelings and tradition and magic. Like, lots of magic.

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll || Or start from the start

————

This is a problem.

Multiple problems, honestly. Like, at least seven different problems that Emma can think of off the top of her head, and obviously the most pressing is getting back to the right part of her timeline, but only marginally less distressing is the overall domesticity of her life at this point of her timeline.

It’s more than the pillows. Of which there are just an absolutely ridiculous amount, actually. They hover in couch corners and fall to the floor with alarming regularity because, between the two of them, Hope and Lucy are something akin to forces of nature, hopped up on Christmas-type sugar and the cookies that people apparently just hand out on the street in Storybrooke. Someone’s always got some sort of baked good, freshly out of the oven — and while Emma’s discovered she’s particularly partial to Granny’s snickerdoodles, she can’t imagine any of this is very efficient.

For Storybrooke’s economy, or whatever.

There’s no bank. Emma looked. And asked. Several dwarfs, actually. All of whom immediately bowed and narrowed their eyes at her like she’d totally lost her mind, which seems pretty accurate at this point. Five days after waking up on that couch, with all of its pillows and questionable comfort, and only a handful of people actually know what’s going on.

Not Hope.

And no one actually told her to do that, but Emma figures it’s kind of like deciding to take her boots off in the house. Polite. Plus, a growing determination not to traumatize a ridiculously cute four-year-old, even when that four-year-old appears to be far more adept at stealing cookies than anything else.

Crumbs line the counter in the morning, and there’s usually a bit of evidence directly outside Hope’s bedroom door, signs of a late-night theft that shouldn’t make Emma smile. She does anyway. Can’t seem to stop it, which might be problem number four. Three is definitely Killian’s consistent lack of jacket, which admittedly is a very surface problem, but the button-up shirts are all ridiculously patterned, and trying not to ask who initially took him shopping is like, problem, three sub-a.

So, no one tells Hope that her mom isn’t her mom. Technically speaking, at least. They go through the motions, and Emma smiles when she’s supposed to, and she eats what is undoubtedly the world record for snickerdoodle consumption by a wayward princess, but trying to be herself, while also not being herself continues to be a rather daunting prospect.

Particularly because whomever Regina believed would know more about Neverland vegetation and its ability to ruin everything is taking their sweet time responding or showing up in Storybrooke, and they’ve tried what feels like several thousand things to get Emma back, but magic beans were a no-go, and some very fancy wand didn’t do anything except infuriate Regina with it uselessness, and it’s still Christmas, so there are apparently a metric shit ton of traditions and expectations, and—

“Wait, what?” Emma asks, perched on the edge of her desk in the station because that’s at least something she’s used to. Less so to Killian’s presence at the only other desk, and she doesn’t remember the only other desk being quite so close to her’s, but it’s entirely possible that’s a trick of her not-quite coherent mind.

Might be problem six. Maybe seven. Making it six gives it power, and acknowledges how much the state of his tongue continues to affect her cognitive abilities. Of which there were already very few, especially while she was exhausted in Neverland, and Emma’s not willing to risk anymore.

“It’s something of a requirement,” Killian says, not for the first time. Princesses have a ridiculous number of requirements, Emma’s rather quickly learned. And he can’t seem to sit straight in any chair. Also ridiculous.

“Does that not hurt your spine?”

Shrugging, he smirks at her and that’s been happening more often. Not that she’s keeping track, or anything. She’s just—aware, that’s totally the right word. Of him, and what he does with his face and his patterned shirts, and there’s been no bare arm again, but Emma’s still not really his wife, and she knows the hours he’s spent holed up in one of the copious rooms in their quasi-mansion have been dedicated to research.

And getting his wife back.

That’s fine. It’s fine. Definitely not a problem. Hasn’t even crossed her mind.

Emma doesn’t want him to want her. Like, ever.

And they’re waiting for her dad, anyway. To report back on some magical failing in Wonderland. Seriously, everything is so fine that it's almost a problem as well. It’s too fine. Everything is—

Great.

“Are you concerned about the state of my spine, darling?”

Melting is not an option — so far as Emma is aware of, but it’s certainly very appealing in the moment. When that moment includes tilted lips and an angled neck seemingly designed to ensure Killian’s hair falls artfully across his forehead, as if the strands are there to frame his eyes and the hint of light in them.

She takes a deep breath.

The light brightens. Or she imagines.

“A tree lighting, though,” Emma says, not-so-subtly changing the subject. Killian’s brows jump. Up his forehead and past those strands of hair she’s only passably obsessed with. “Isn’t that kind of...I don’t know, it’s not very fairy tale.” “Regina lights the candles with magic, if that helps.” “So why do I have to be there?” “The monarchy usually stands on a platform, waves lovingly to their subjects and—” “—God, how is there more?” Emma balks, but that only gets her a more powerful smirk and eyes that are far too blue to be fair, and they still haven’t painted the dining room. She’s not going to ask about that.

She’s not.

“This is something of the central hub for the rest of the United Realms,” Killian explains, “and with Regina and the Charmings here, it makes sense that people...flock.” “Like birds.” “Not the ones your mother can commune with, but I suppose the metaphor is appropriate.”

“Who decided to hold Regina’s queen election?” Eyeing her speculatively, Emma does her very best not to wither under Killian’s expression. She’s not altogether confident it works, but they’ve almost come to something like an understanding, and it’s very easy. This, them. No, not them. There’s no them and while Emma’s done her fair share of staring, there can’t be a them now because that will undoubtedly fuck with the timeline and probably everything else, just to keep inspiring problematic lists, and her increasing desire to kiss him until he also has to deal with wobbly knees is just something she’s going to have to deal with.

“Maybe I won’t remember when I get back,” Emma reasons, but that one word comes out as wobbly as her knees have been and Killian purses his lips. “Ok, fine—tell me something totally random, then. A fun-fact, as it were.” “Random.” “Do you not know what that means?” He rolls his eyes. “I know at least three more languages than you do, so—” “—No you do not!”

Nodding, Killian smiles over the edge of his coffee mug, and neither one of them mention that his proclivity to drinking a gallon of coffee every morning could probably be this so-called fun fact. “English, obviously, and—” “—Ok, I can clearly speak English,” Emma argues. She nearly bites her tongue in half at the force of Killian’s answering look, part amusement and even more heat and that only circles her back around to the melting thing.

“Aye, but I definitely know more curses than you do, so that’s got to count for something. Also that’s simply my base language, as it were.” She sneers. He chuckles. Into the mug, but it feels like the emotion behind it sinks under Emma’s skin and times up with her pulse, less erratic than it had been those first few nights, and she’s actually started sleeping consistently. “Then of course, I’m rather familiar with Latin.” “Dead, it doesn’t count.” “Impressive, though.” “Sounds like you’re fishing for compliments, Captain.” “Unnecessary, when I know you’ll be all wide-eyed and amazed in a moment,” Killian promises, swinging his legs to prop his feet on the edge of her desk. “There’s also Greek, and—” Waving her hands, Emma doesn’t explicitly try to swat at his legs, but he’s just so goddamn close, and still exuding heat, and she’s starting to have some assumptions about that as well. Of the possibly magic and decidedly—no she’s not doing that. They’re not that. Not like this, anyway. And Killian doesn’t immediately move, but that only lulls her into a false sense of security, the metal of his hook is cold enough that she yelps when it circles both her wrists.

“Fairy,” he finishes, and Emma refuses to believe he leans forward on purpose.

“No.” “You keep objecting to my facts and you’ll give a man a complex, Swan.” “Why would you know Greek, you’re a—” “—Fairy tale character?”

Emma presses her lips together. So as not to make an undignified noise. She’s already whimpered enough, and cried more than she thought possible and the hitch in his voice threatens to shatter several things. Moving her hands is impossible, which is probably for the best, but all of her would very much like to cup his cheek, if only to see if he’ll kiss the inside of her wrist, and she’s like ninety-two percent positive he would. “Pirate prince,” she corrects lightly, and does get her a smile. “Do you have an official title here?” “Captain.” “That’s it?” “Not impressive enough, huh?”

There’s no music on in the station, but they’re clearly dancing all the same — around each other, and the maelstrom of feelings Emma is doing a God awful job of ignoring, and at some point one of them is going to have to pull away from the other. In more ways than one.

“I didn’t say that,” she shakes, “and don’t bother telling me it’s another argument, I don’t care. I’m just—curious, I guess.” “About me?”

Nodding is the least dangerous response when she’s so worried about tripping over her own feet in this metaphorical waltz, but it’s one of the more accurate things she’s said since she got here, and now she’s got an excuse. No repercussions, nothing exactly permanent about these conversations, or this information, and no one’s told her whether or not she’ll retain her memories once she gets back, but they also don’t know she’ll get back so—

Fuck it, honestly.

“Yeah,” Emma replies, not bothering to gloat when Killian’s the one whose eyes go wide first.

“Oh.” “Is that unexpected?” “Maybe at this point.”

Humming, she files that away, preening slightly under the not-quite-compliment. “Not an answer though. Habit of yours.” “Not really, you’re just very demanding in this incarnation.” “Product of my situation, I guess.” He laughs. It’s something that happens more often here than it did when Emma knew him — knows him, whatever tenses get confusing in time travel. Still, the sound consistently manages to catch her off guard. Free and easy, and the magic that rustles in the back of her brain might deserve its own list.

Or another conversation with Regina. “The Royal Navy,” Killian says, an answer Emma nearly forgot she wanted. Her eyes widen. He looks triumphant. “See, told you.” “Like an Enchanted Forest GI bill, huh? See new lands, learn new languages.” “Something like that, aye.” “How’d you get to fairy?” “Did you meet the Lady Bell before—” “—I got yanked out of Neverland?” Emma quips, and it might be a defense mechanism. Making jokes, but she also hasn’t gone into detail about the plant-thing yet, and that might be because she doesn’t want to freak him out.

Anymore than he already is. He spends at least an hour in that room every night.

“Yeah, I did,” she adds,” after she kidnapped Regina and told us Greg and Tamara were dead, which...y’know—” “—Wasn’t the worst thing in the world?” “Does that make me a horrible person?” Killian shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” “Are you going to tell me you learned fairy language from an actual fairy?” “Not much else to do on a hellish island for several hundred years, and it’s a rather complicated tongue. Takes some practice.” “Oh, you’re doing that on purpose now.” The speed of his grin is like molasses. Emma assumes. She’s not sure she’s ever encountered molasses in real life. Even so, the whole thing is bordering on obscene and the opposite of the Christmas spirit and—“Alright,” she concedes, “learning fairy is actually pretty impressive.” “You flatter me, love.”

“What’s your favorite fairy curse word and do you think anyone would be totally scandalized if I used it during this super fancy, exceptionally royal tree lighting?”

Absolutely, goddamn obscene. The tip of his tongue finds the corner of his mouth, and his eyes get noticeably darker, Emma’s pulse picking up until she’s sure they can hear it on the other side of town, and there’s already barely any space between them, but that appears to be decreasing with every passing second. She’s got no idea who’s moving. She might be moving.

God, she hopes she’s moving.

Losing control of her limbs may send her off some ledge.

And she’s just about to throw caution to the seemingly ever-present wind that comes off the harbor, because the front of this patterned shirt looks particularly yankable, but the station door creaks, and a muscle in Killian’s jaw jumps and David clicks his teeth exactly once when he walks in.

“Interrupting something, am I?” “No, no,” Emma stammers at the same time Killian mumbles “absolutely not,” and neither of those things sound all that honest.

She’s never gone into cardiac arrest, but if this is what it feels like, it’s kind of disorienting.

“You hear about the tree lighting, Emma?” David asks, and that’s obviously where her inability to tactfully alter the course of a conversation comes from. Killian rolls his eyes towards the ceiling, slumping back into his chair.

Exhaling feels like an admission of guilt, but Emma can’t have anything to feel guilty about here, and she hopes Killian’s getting sleep. On the couch. He keeps sleeping on the couch.

Of course he does.

“Do I have to wear a gown or anything?” “It’s outside,” David says, “there are trees involved.”

Killian’s hook pokes at his chair arm. “Only one tree, as far as I knew.” “Why are you like this?” “You’re charmed by it, I know,” he chuckles, eyes flashing towards Emma. Coincidence, she’s sure. Her cheeks are very warm.

She’s very warm. Passably magical, maybe.

David sighs. “No, there are no gowns. It is in fact only one tree, and Em—you don’t have to say anything. Regina will thank people for coming, Snow will open up the meal and that’ll be that.” “Should I know what the meal is?” Emma asks, and her gaze doesn’t automatically drift towards Killian either. It just, sort of—meanders there, naturally. His tongue is still doing that thing.

“I was going to get to that part eventually.” “There’s kind of a reception,” David explains, “with cookies.” “Shit, how many cookies can one United Realm eat?” “An exceptional amount,” Killian mutters, and Emma might guffaw. While realizing why her other version had been baking so much before.

“You don’t have to do anything,” David adds, “just show up and smile, and you’ll get some cookies out of it.” “Will I not get cookies if I don’t smile?” Not able to stop whatever noise rumbles out of him, the force of Killian’s grin makes Emma glad she’s sitting down again. “I’ll swipe you some if you don’t.” “Very gallant.” “Happens from time to time.” Flirting in front of her father is wrong. That’s if this counts as flirting. As far as Emma knows, most of their banter has been a product of their mutually ridiculous lives, and whatever situation they’ve found themselves in at the moment, but this moment doesn’t hold any danger and it is so goddamn easy.

She smiles.

Killian beams.

David sighs again. “Anyone want to hear about Wonderland now? Or how the White Rabbit can’t draw any portals? Or—” “—This is a really extensive list,” Emma grumbles, and Killian’s smile is going to get stuck on his face. Permanently. She’s very charmed by the crinkles around his eyes.

“Tinker Bell is here.” Slamming his feet back onto the floor, Killian practically snaps to attention, and Emma’s body goes through another reaction she does not expect. What feels suspiciously like jealousy rattles down her spine, rooting her to the spot and drying out her mouth and David’s far too observant.

He clicks his teeth again. “When?” Killian asks, already standing and offering Emma his hand. She takes it, not thinking about what that means — or how it affects the half-green tint clouding her vision, and her heart misses a beat. As soon as his fingers lace through hers.

“Just now. Went to Regina’s, but I had to come here, so one of Snow’s birds told me.” “You can talk to the birds too?” Emma balks, stumbling while Killian all but yanks her towards the door.

“No, no, they carry messages now.” “Ah of course.” “Did Tink say anything yet?” Killian demands, David already shaking his head and they’re picking up speed. All but jogging down Main Street and towards Regina’s office, and the nickname probably isn’t important. It’s fine. Everything is fine. It’s all going to be good.

Even when the fairy in question snaps towards the office door as it swings open, practically lighting up when she notices Killian and Regina’s eyes go noticeably thin. Staring at Emma like she’s trying to read her mind.

Her fingers are still tied up with Killian’s. “Hook,” Tinker Bell exclaims, and she doesn’t have any visible wings so she can’t fly out of her chair. She tries all the same, arms that bump Emma as they hug her not-quite husband and he mutters a greeting. It takes a moment for Tinker Bell’s gaze to find Emma, trying and failing to keep her expression even, and Killian might chuckle.

She kicks his ankle.

“Emma,” Tink breathes, “it’s good to see you again, you have to get the hell out of this timeline.”

“So, that’s it,” Tinker Bell finishes, shrugging like Emma’s not dangerously close to fully breaking down and Killian’s thumb keeps tapping the side of her palm. Because he’s still holding her hand. Cool, it’s cool. She’s not totally preoccupied with that.

Regina’s totally staring, anyway.

“Will-o-wisps,” Killian says, “I thought that was a rumor.” More shrugging. There’s too much shrugging for Emma. “I’ve never heard of it in practice,” Tinker Bell reasons, “but can you think of another plant in Neverland that could do such a thing? That rumor you’re talking about always mentioned how it would draw a traveler in, bewitch them with lights and—were there lights, Emma?”

She nods. Swallows, or tries at least. But her tongue is expanding again, and her heart might be shrinking, and the whole thing feels like a very cruel trick.

“Pan would have known about all of that,” Tinker Bell continues, “and used it to his advantage. If he could get Emma to follow the light, then she wouldn’t be a problem anymore.” “But I didn’t actually move anywhere,” Emma argues. “There was no following the light.” Regina exhales. “Probably more metaphorical, giving into what the light offered.” “Which was?” “This, obviously. What we talked about, and what you thought you couldn’t ever have while you were stuck in Neverland, convinced of a whole slew of wholly negative things. So, there was no walking, but—” “—I wouldn’t have just run away!”

Voice cracking is a sign of impending mental breakdown, Emma’s sure. As are Killian’s tightening fingers, although she’s starting to depend on those fingers just a bit because sitting hadn’t even crossed her mind before and now that might be the only reason she’s still standing.

That keeps happening.

“Doesn’t sound like you had a choice,” Regina says, “if Pan wanted to tempt you, will-o-wisps seem like the perfect way to do it. See the light, get pulled into this future, he gets Henry, and everything he wants.” “But Henry is here. He’s—he’s a grown man, with a kid and—” “—None of that is set in stone,” Tinker Bell interrupts, magic roaring in Emma’s ears. Killian’s going to cut off the circulation to her hand. “With you out of the way, Pan’s got a straight shot at the heart of the truest believer, he can change what you would have eventually done. Make sure he gets the magic that’ll save Neverland. That’s why everything else is falling apart.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Magic,” David clarifies. “All of it acting strangely? Turns out that is because of you, kid.” Scoffing makes her lean forward awkwardly, but Killian doesn’t mention the strain it’s undoubtedly putting on his arm, and letting go of her hand is disappointing for about two seconds. Before it turns into his arm around waist.

Regina’s expression turns calculating.

“Again,” she says, “it’s what we talked about. Things falling apart because you got pulled off the board. Into this exceedingly tempting place.”

Widening her eyes at the unspoken judgement doesn’t do anything to alter Regina’s face, but Emma didn’t really expect it to and her eyes hurt. From not crying. She can’t possibly cry anymore. “I’ve never been to Wonderland, though. How could I fuck up its magic?” “You’ve been other places, love,” Killian murmurs, “and all of that has ripple effects. Savior saves one place, and other realms reap the benefits.” “Is Neverland in the United Realms?” “No.” “Just like that?” “Just like that,” he echoes, smile not quite reaching his eyes. “What do we do now, Your Majesty?”

Taking a deep breath, Regina lets it out almost immediately — staring at limbs and their out-of-place placement for a moment, before glancing at Tinker Bell. Who shrugs, again. Emma’s going to scream. Before she cries. Maybe then all the emotions will balance out. “We figure out a way to get Emma back to the right place, so she can save Henry and defeat Pan, then we hope that things haven’t been altered so much in the past that this version of the future crumbles entirely.” “What was that about no pressure before?” Emma huffs, David laughing under his breath and the feel of something on her hair is absolutely not Killian’s lips. “And honesty, what options do we have left? As far as time travel goes.” “Eh, we're far from exhausted on possibilities,” Regina says. “Just need to get creative.” Tinker Bell’s gasp is very loud. “Have you tried—” “—No,” Killian cuts in, sharper than anything else he’s said. “That’s not going to work.” “But you haven’t tried.” “Because it’s not an option.” “Oh, that’s very negative.” He hums, and Emma waits for the rest of the conversation. Another verbal volley, but it doesn’t come and Tinker Bell looks very disappointed. She’s got another migraine. “How long do you think we have until this future just—disintegrates?” Emma asks.

She counts to twenty-four before anyone replies. “Maybe a couple days,” Regina replies, “a week at most.” “So—Christmas, then?” “I bet he didn’t plan that on purpose, just one of those crazy happenstances.” “Yuh huh.” “Try and sound more convincing next time, that one sucked a bit.”

Hearing the so-called queen of these supposed United Realms utter the word sucked without a hint of irony is not what Emma expects to be the straw that breaks her back, but it is and her back hurts, and all of her aches, and saving people is her gig. She’s got to figure out a way to do that. No matter what.

She can’t do that while standing here. With three matching looks of concern, and one of absolute and total fear boring into the side of her head, and Emma’s also very good at running.

That would suggest she’s got control over her limbs, though. Stumbling down the stairs, she makes it about three-quarters of the way down before the whole thing is too challenging and her lungs appear to be disappearing, or possibly melting, and something in her spine cracks when she falls forward.

Hair brushes Emma’s knees, shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs and the volume of her breathing and the hand that lands on hers doesn’t surprise her as much as it should. “In through your nose, out through your mouth,” Killian instructs, only for Emma to flat out fail at that too.

Becoming a very frustrating theme. “Why are you so worried about my oxygen intake?” “It concerns me that you’re not, actually.”

Letting out a breath she definitely could have used, Emma’s head lolls. Towards his shoulder and the very solid nature of him, and he doesn’t try to roll her off. Just shifts his arm so it’s back around her waist and that does make it a bit easier to keep her lungs functioning.

“Was it all of reality collapsing, or Regina using that particular word?”

Emma groans. “Mind reading’s kind of a violation of privacy.” “Invoking my pirate excuse.” “That’s not a thing.” “Eh,” he says, and she hears the smile. That’s...nice. “Having no regard for laws is something of a requirement for piracy.” “This is not working as well as you think it is.” “I respectfully disagree. We’re going to fix this, you know that, right?” “I can’t imagine how.” “Sheer stubbornness hardwired into your personality.” Laughing hurts her very tight and anxiety-riddled chest, but Emma can’t help herself and she’d been right about the smile. Magic flutters under her skin, a steady pulse that’s slightly different than her normal pulse because it’s also more consistent and Killian’s nose is close enough to brush her cheek. If he wanted.

She wonders if he does. She’d like him to.

But that’s another problem, and more danger than anything Neverland could offer, and—“Fuck Peter Pan, honestly,” Emma proclaims, Killian’s response warm on her skin because it also includes a sound drifting close to a guffaw and she supposes his mouth is as close as his nose. What with the general structure of faces, and all.

He kisses her cheek.

Quick — barely there, really. Over before it has a chance to register, but Emma’s certain she’s been catapulted into the stratosphere, and he blinks almost hyperactively at her. She’s right about the palm thing too.

He turns into her hand as soon as it finds his cheek.

“Apologies,” Killian mumbles, retreating back into formalities and behind walls Emma had been clinging to only a few days before. Now they’re just kind of annoying. “Force of habit.”

“Was it the fuck Peter Pan that got you?” “You’ve always been something of a wordsmith.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Emma smiles. “Can I—can I ask you a question?” “No need to preface it, darling.” That’s something like the eighth time that’s happened. In the last two days. Second in the last hour or so. Emma’s not counting that either. “Do you remember this?” “Currently?” “Don’t be an ass,” she snarks, but his hook is around her wrists before she can even try to lift her hands. “The will-o-wisp attack. I—well, it was my turn to watch and I was kind of wallowing because of everything that had happened, and—” Telling him she wanted to kiss him then and now and possibly for the rest of time is also very appealing. And terrifying. Emma bites her tongue. Coward.

“No,” Killian shakes his head. “I don’t.” “Is that weird?” “Decidedly.” “So, then—wait, I’ve got another question.” He lifts his eyebrows. Smirks. Has the absolute cheek to lift his thumb and brush tears away from her skin, and Emma resolutely refuses to acknowledge the shiver that goes through her at that. “What was with your huh’s, then?” “Last night, you mean.” “I said Echo Caves and you totally froze. Is that—” “Quite a lot of things happen in Neverland,” Killian finishes, “and not all of them have happened for you yet.” “Menacing.” He hums again, takes a deep breath that clearly isn’t a sign he wants to kiss her again. When he does not actually kiss her again. Fine, fine, fine, super. “Not all of it,” he says, although the words sound suspiciously like a promise and neither one of them blink when a bird flies through the open window nearby.

“Are those birds flying in sync?” “Stop talking, you’re going to get us in trouble.” “What was that about pirate code, or whatever?” Grinning up at him and his scowl, Emma can’t help but be a little proud that she’s managed to distract the great and passably royal Captain Killian Jones during the United Realm’s annual tree lighting. Which in retrospect, does seem kind of strange since Emma can’t imagine they actually have Christmas in the Enchanted Forest.

That’s a conversation for a different time, though.

For now she’s willing to keep playing distraction, and it’s very fun to flirt. With Killian, specifically. She’ll consider the repercussions of that later, too.

“As far as I’m aware,” Killian whispers, trying to keep Hope from jumping into the nearest snowbank, “your mother has instructed them to appear at certain and integral points in the ceremony. For dramatic effect.” “Kind of gaudy, isn’t it?” “A requirement of royalty, so it would seem.”

The muscles in her cheeks are starting to ache. From overuse, and that’s—another problem. Being here a tease. That one strand of hair that always manages to fall towards Killian’s right eye is the worst.

“How long have you been holding onto that particular opinion?” They haven't turned the tree on yet, so whatever light reflects in his eyes is more theoretical than anything. Regina must have practiced this speech at some point. No way this is all improvised, not with the dramatic pauses and introductions and— “Oh shit,” Emma mutters, the ends of Killian’s ears going red because Regina is introducing them and Hope is nothing more than four uncoordinated limbs and Henry snickers very loudly.

Ella elbows him in the side.

Emma likes her daughter-in-law. She hasn’t allowed herself to think about that title, or the granddaughter it comes with, but she’s getting very good at putting thoughts in boxes and only partially acknowledging what they mean and Killian's hand finds her again.

Magic rushes from the top of her head to the very bottom of her feet, standing a bit straighter in another pair of boots, and Killian’s whole body moves towards her. So as to make it easier when he openly gapes at her.

That must happen a lot too, though. No one bats an eyelash. “If you’re all done,” Regina drawls, but Henry isn’t and Ella can’t contain her laugh either. Mary Margaret looks overjoyed. Even as her birds break formation.

Emma nods. “All good.” “Gods, the whole lot of you are annoying. You know—” Waving one hand, candles burst into flame without a word, multi-colored lights appearing on every branch, and it takes Emma a moment to realize that everyone in the crowd is holding an ornament.

“What are they for?” she asks Killian, not bothering to lower her face over the cheers. People are cheering for the tree. “They’re wishes, Mama,” Hope cries. “From everyone!”

He nods when the four-year-old doesn’t explain anymore — already rushing towards Mary Margaret and her ornament. “That’s why people come from all over. Aside from the festive nature, and the talented birds, it’s an old superstition. Place an ornament where the candle was, and you’ll get your wish.” “What happens to the candle?” “Supposed to bring it home, and light that space with the feeling of the solstice.”

In any other situation, exhaling as forcefully as she does would be embarrassing. As it is, Emma figures she’s got a thousand excuses and the hand in hers gives no indication of letting go any time soon. So, seems like a wash. “Gods, that’s nice.” “Aye, it is.”

Hope puts an ornament on the tree.

So does Henry.

And Lucy. The list goes on and on, but all Emma can do is stand at the end of Granny’s counters and eat her weight in Snickerdoodles.

She's the worst, frankly.

Snow starts to fall just as Emma’s wavering between that happy medium of pleasantly buzzed and legitimately drunk, and she’s got to ask someone who doles out the liquor licenses in this realm because it appears Granny’s hand has grown a bit heavy over the years.

Lucy scampers towards the far window as soon as she notices the storm, already talking a mile a minute and detailing plans with Hope and Neal — and this happy medium makes it impossible for Emma to be too frustrated by that, but she also hasn’t actually asked what happened to Neal or why he doesn’t appear in Storybrooke, so it seems it’s more difficult to rid herself of the self-imposed asshole moniker than she’d like.

And the bell over the door rattles like it’s the goddamn town crier, another familiar face stepping through the frame. With red highlights in her hair. “Are we doing this, then?” Ruby asks, flanked by a woman Emma doesn’t recognize and another redhead who is obviously not Ariel and it’s strange to see Mulan out of armor.

“Cap?” Ruby presses, when no one responds quickly enough, “this is happening, right?” Glancing at a wary Henry and back towards a clearly confused Emma, Killian grits his teeth. While she does her best to come to terms with nicknames, and another tradition and Hope tries very hard to climb up Emma’s side.

So as to yell in her ear easier.

“It’s snowing, Mama. We’ve got to play!” Emma blinks. “In the snow.” “It’s a...thing,” Killian explains. “Gets almost—” “—Bloodthirsty,” Mary Margaret says, which is not the most shocking thing that’s happened so far, but Emma’s buzz is starting to ebb slightly and someone’s knocking on the door. Another redhead, with her hair in braids and what looks like suspiciously like a crown on her head and David lets out a joyful noise when he notices the guy behind her.

Mary Margaret tugs at the edge of Emma’s sleeve. She might be nearly drunk too, actually. If her slight wobble is any indication. “In the past,” she starts, “there’s been some notably magical snowstorms here. It was quite an event when Elsa first arrived, but then well—you helped save her, and her sister.” The redhead waves, as if she knows she’s being talked about and Emma can’t fathom how she makes that connection, but she’s getting better at puzzles. “And now,” Mary Margaret continues, “it’s become something of a ritual.”

Ruby gags. “Oh Gods, don’t say it like that. Sounds ruthless.” “Isn’t it, though?” Henry challenges. “The gist is, that Elsa shows up after the tree lighting with her snow powers and we have a snowball fight.” She’s too drunk for this. Definitely well past buzzed at this point. “A snowball fight,” Emma repeats, half a dozen nodding heads replying with equally large smiles and the almost audible sense of anticipation hovering around them.

Hope widens her eyes. It’s a very good trick. “She practices that,” Killian mutters, more mind reading that Emma doesn’t bother to point out because the redhead is shouting "come on, let’s go'' and that sounds like a command. And bloodthirsty is a very appropriate adjective.

Teams are quickly formed, alliances announced and the guy Emma realizes is named Kristoff claims “honor must be defended” enough times that it appears to be a catchphrase. Laughter rings out around them, dancing on the magically-induced snowflakes and off the lights, and there aren’t as many candles on the tree anymore, but some flames continue to flicker, casting shadows across faces and snowballs.

As they fly past Emma’s ears.

“Your aim could use some work,” Killian says, breathing heavier as he ducks behind a snow drift they’re using as a blockade. Emma sneers. “Where’d the kid go?” “Ours?” She nods. Tries not to die. Only marginally succeeds. Killian doesn’t appear to notice. Force of habit is a very strong rationalization, it seems. “She’s allied herself with her much more impressive brother, who—” Lifting out of his crouch, Killian cups a hand to his mouth, like that will help the volume of his ensuing insult. “—Has clearly been practicing snowball creation in the Wish Realm and only knows how to win by cheating!” “I learned it from you,” Henry calls back.

David’s laugh is loud enough to disrupt a whole flock of birds. Perched on the branches above his and Mary Margaret’s head.

Goosebumps make a glorious return to Emma’s arm — and quite possibly her soul, which only seems like an exaggeration until she notices the spots of color on Killian’s cheeks and the bits of snow clinging to his hair. His eyes get bluer when she brushes the moisture away. Have to, if only to explain Emma’s fluttering magic and fledgling pulse and a snowball slams into her left shoulder blade. “Gotta hide better,” Anna calls, the blonde behind her, who is definitely Elsa, shaking with the force of her laughter. Everyone keeps laughing. Everyone is so happy. It’s—

A goddamn Christmas Utopia.

“You did offer yourself up a bit,” Killian reasons, Emma gasping at the betrayal. Pulling on the front of her now-damp jacket, he tugs her back against his side and they’re very close. Too close. Possibly not close enough.

“And what would you suggest o ye master strategist?” “Little wordy, don’t you think?”

“I retract my compliment, then.” “Ahaha,” he chuckles, “a compliment, was it? Well that’s totally different, then. Now, if you just stay here with—” The rest of the sentence gets caught up in his grunt and groan and Emma’s not particularly disappointed to see Hope’s return to this side of the snowball fight, but she’s also fairly certain there was a me looming on the tip of Killian’s very distracting tongue and she’d like to hear that. Selfishly. “Oh, switched allegiances again, have you, little love?” “Henry can’t enchant the snowballs,” Hope says, like that’s supposed to make sense and it almost does because Emma has magic, but she’s never tried to use it on snow. At least not yet.

“I don’t—” she starts, only to cut herself off. At the overall circumference of Hope’s eyes, and the color of Killian’s and there’s something to said for sheer force of will. “Gimme a snowball, baby.”

Excitement immediately colors her daughter’s face, smile wide enough that it’s probably a record and Killian doesn’t say anything. Watches without a single shift of his chest, which means Emma is staring at his chest, but he’s also obviously not breathing, and her lungs can’t stand up to much more of this.

An admittedly lackluster snowball gets plopped in Emma’s upturned palm, and she blinks away the cold like this is old hat. Or something less lame sounding. Snow packs together like—well, magic, she supposes, a perfect sphere that isn’t quite iced over, but won’t fall apart when one of them throws it and obviously Hope’s got to throw it.

“Ok,” she says, nodding encouragingly. “Who did you want to take down?” Killian’s lips disappear. Behind his teeth. To stop himself from grinning like a maniac, or so Emma very quickly convinces herself.

“Uncle Kris,” Hope announces, and this family’s apparently only grown in the last decade or so. Maybe Emma should be more concerned about her heart. And its ability to burst.

“We can do that. Just—toss it up, and…”

She’s got no idea, really. Just generic hope, and a surplus of feeling, but Emma’s always been told that magic is emotion and she’s not sure she’s ever been more emotional, which is a scathing commentary of her life, but this is also her life and— Killian scoops Hope up, an impressive act of balance and dodging incoming snowballs, and Emma will use that emotion as a reasonable excuse for what she does next. Reaching forward, her fingers curl around the brace at the end of his arm, not able to actually touch skin because he’s wearing a leather jacket, and that’s only sort of messing with her mind. But the motivation is the same, and she’s got all those suspicions and thoughts and—

The most powerful magic in the world.

“Throw it, love,” Killian directs, Hope’s arm pulling behind her like she’s a professional baseball player, and Emma squeezes her eyes shut. Warmth curls at the base of her spine, inching up her vertebrae until it takes root at the base of her skull, spreading out through her brain and the rest of her limbs and he definitely kisses her hair again.

She’d been counting on that, just a bit.

Muscles loosen under her skin, no sense of tension or that ever-present anxiety Emma’s always just assumed was part of her genetic makeup. Shouts echo around her, in addition to the snow, but she can’t quite hear any of it over the explosion of magic between her ears, and Hope’s cry of success will probably be branded on Emma for the rest of her life.

She hopes so, at least.

Opening her eyes to find Kristoff sputtering, and Anna as impressed as she is indignant, Emma only barely has a chance to catch her breath before there’s a kid flying into her arms. It’s harder to hold her when she doesn’t let go of Killian. And Killian doesn’t pull away.

He watches both of them. Traces over Emma’s face, the same way she had in the hallway, and something happens. Something important. Passing between them, and cementing itself in her gut and her soul and his lips twitch. At her magic, probably. “Thank you,” Killian mouths, Emma nodding against Hope’s hair. She kisses it. Out of habit, or whatever.

Strands of hair are damp against Emma's temple by the time they traipse back to the house, Hope asleep on Killian’s shoulder. Enchanted snowflakes linger on the back of her jacket, hovering on her eyelashes for maximum effect and peak cute, which didn’t need any help if Emma’s being honest and she might be willing to err on the side of that particular feeling right now. So as to keep the feeling, all year long and maybe even indefinitely.

Or whatever they said about Ebenezer Scrooge.

After he learned to love Christmas. And other humans.

Emma’s still not thinking too hard about that particular word, though. So, maybe complete honesty’s something of a stretch, but the kid is undeniably adorable and it’s admittedly difficult to think straight when Killian is—

Killian. In italicized and underlined lettering, meeting Emma snark for snark, and snowball for snowball, and she really wants to know his Monopoly cheating strategy, but that’s a problem for an entirely different list because that list has impossible words and improbable feelings and he’s staring at her.

Where she’s leaning against their front door.

Using possessive and collective pronouns isn’t helping her cause.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. For the benefit of the sleeping kid, Emma figures. Not the state of her pulse, or the magic he could feel, and the cyclical nature of time is just toying with her at this point.

She nods. “Better than, somehow.” “Oh, that’s a little negative, Swan.” “Kind of my schtick, isn’t it.” “Not always,” Killian says, another pair of words that shouldn’t sound like a promise and clearly do not care. Emma feels her smile. Like, possibly in the very core of her being. At least between her ribs, where the growing sense of belonging has decided to linger, this feeling of home and possibility and staying here is not a possibility. Tinker Bell will figure something out.

Emma will — that’s how Savior’ing works, after all.

“You know,” Killian adds, Hope humming into his neck and there’s quite a lot of neck. Emma might be staring at his neck. “At some point we concoct this very impressive buttered rum recipe, that’s notoriously good at warding off chills.” Digging her teeth into her lips does not do anything to disperse the butterflies in Emma’s stomach, but she’s also not all that interested in them leaving. “Concerned about my breathing and my overall body temperature?” God, she’s an idiot.

Flirting isn't quite second nature, though — and Emma’s even less accustomed to flirting as a two-way street, but this feels as easy as it has and will and there’s those tense-based issues all over again. Killian grins. Slow, and measured and inching almost close to lecherous, sparking a handful of other other ideas that—

Immediately disappears when the four-year-old wakes up.

Brushed teeth take precedence, as do picking out pajamas and Hope is in possession of more pajama sets than Emma knew could exist in one set of drawers. Then there’s a bedding routine, lifting comforters and crawling under sheets and Emma doesn’t know the story requested of her.

She’s got no idea what happens after Prince Charles spun around with his sword.

It’s got to be impressive, though.

“Oh, Hope I—” she exhales, fear creeping back into the forefront of her mind. Until fingers find they’re way back into hers, and they’re just as warm as they always are and it takes Killian less than three minutes to promise a different story on another night.

No tears are shed, so that’s got to be a victory and Hope’s eyes are already fluttering closed when Killian flicks off the light. Lingering in the hallway, Emma’s not sure what she’s supposed to do or where she’s supposed to go, but there’s a hook pressed into the small of her back and buttered rum turns out to have a ridiculous amount of cinnamon in it. “Shit,” Emma mutters into her glass, and Killian looks far too satisfied. “This is really good.” “Took some trial and error, but we got there eventually. Or get there for you, I suppose.” Sipping instead of responding is another cowardly move, one Emma won’t ever admit to and it doesn’t matter because he can read her mind. At least her face. Open book, and all that.

“I’m sorry.” Killian blinks. “For what, exactly?” “God, throw a dart. Everything I—showing up in your life and making the right Emma disappear, maybe, and that’s got to be fucking with you, and—” “—You’re not the wrong Emma,” he interrupts, with enough force to pull her up short. Buttered rum drips on her chin. So, she’s a picture of romance and flirting potential. “Just a little early, that’s all.” “Not what you said when I got here.” “Aye, well that was the bastard version of me. He’s a—” “—Bastard?” “Absolutely,” Killian nods, “and maybe a little unsure of himself when it comes to you.”

It’s her turn to blink. More than once, only a little concerned the scene in front of her will change, but it doesn’t and it won’t and there’s got to be a limit on time travel. Emma’s reached her quota by now, she hopes. “Because I’m a mess now? I mean, this version of me. Not the wife one.” “You’re worried about Henry. And I understand that, did then as well. I just—you want to know why the Echo Caves gave me pause? Because if you got tugged right after that, then all you’re sure of is that I think I could move on from Milah, but nothing else has happened for you yet. No promises or—” Swallowing, he sets his glass down and there wasn’t much room between them, but there’s even less now and Emma’s got nowhere to put her hands. Except on his thigh. Where it bumps hers. “Leaving behind that bastard who wouldn’t give you the magic bean was always something of a challenge, but you made me want to. Made it easier to do just that. Because eventually you do trust me, and you believe in me, and—”

He exhales. Licks his lips. Emma can’t move. “The thought of losing that terrified me,” Killian finishes.

They’ve stopped dancing. Are standing stock-still in the middle of the floor, while other people twirl around and wait for them to get their rhythm back. And Killian doesn’t blink, which is equally frustrating and overwhelming and a much more positive adjective that Emma can’t be bothered with because she’s too busy saying, “I...like you?” “Was that a question?” “Maybe,” she admits, “it’s not really my forte, and I told Neal a bunch of shit in the Echo Caves too, so—is...did my parents name their kid after him?” “Yuh huh.” “Don’t sound particularly pleased.” “We’ll get to that,” Killian says, “Rehash the liking stuff, please.” Maybe laughing at inappropriate times is actually his greatest talent. Emma’s head drops, bumping Killian’s shoulder, but then there’s an arm back around her waist and there’s so much of him, and that’s always been the problem. Opposite of a problem, really.

“You just—” Emma mutters. “Came back, for us and me and I...that kind of terrifies me too, but you always make sure if I'm ok, and that’s—not a ton of people do that.” “Becomes something of a habit.” “I’m going to ask you a question.” “Still don’t need to preface it.” “Are you Prince Charles in the story?”

Surprise is a good look on him. All of them are, but Emma’s already crossed one emotional threshold and like wasn’t really the word she was thinking about before. “Aye,” Killian says, soft enough that it’s difficult to hear.

“Does that make me the princess?” “In almost every story I tell.”

The warmth moves to her cheeks, and the same skin Killian’s fingers graze, coming dangerously close to the edge of her mouth and barely parted lips. “So, uh,” Emma stammers, “not our first time travel adventure?” “Gets confusing when you haven’t done that other part yet.” “Time travel might be overrated, honestly. But we get back, right? That’s—I mean, you’re here.”

Nodding, his nose replaces his fingers and it’s oddly endearing. “If you remember this in the past, I refuse to be held accountable, alright?”

“Seems fair,” Emma laughs, and she thinks she hears him swallow before he responds. “You give up your magic, for me—which is something else I never entirely pay you back for, but then we get pulled into the portal, adventures ensue, including that very impressive spin move, and then your magic comes back.” “How?” “With that wand Regina used before, that’s why she thought it would work.” “You’re skipping over things,” she accuses, and flirting might not be the only two-way street. He’s getting easier to read. “Was that was it you? Helping with my magic?” Shrugging isn’t easy when they’re so tangled together, but Killian’s ears are as red as Ariel’s hair and Ruby’s highlights and—“The only reason I magic’ed that snowball was because I was holding onto you. Control’s not something I’ve got much of right now.” “You would have been able to figure it out.” “Not with a kid waiting, and all those people and—” Problems be damned. Lists be damned. Time itself, be goddamned. “Paying me back is a stupid thing to think.”

“Swan.” Shaking her head, Emma moves before she can reconsider how incredibly dumb this is and possibly even more dangerous, but he keeps staring at her and it’s so easy and normal, and if she were someone who breathed with any sort of regularity, that wold be an appropriate analogy. Killian shifts too, so that helps.

And she definitely mumbles kiss me like some harlequin romance heroine, but he doesn’t laugh and he doesn’t object and the fingers that find her hair help ground her. To this plane of reality. Nice exists for about half a second, before it rather quickly evolves into need and desire and there are hands everywhere. Emma’s and Killian’s — tracing each other like this is the first time all over again, and her back arches once she clamors into his lap.

Rocking down at the same time he rocks up draws out several sounds Emma’s never heard before, and would not mind hearing on loop. Fingers search out skin, pushing into the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck, and she can’t tilt her head enough. To get the right angle, or more of his tongue and his tongue’s already swiping at her lips.

He groans again. When she opens her mouth, lets him trace as much as he’d like, and Emma would like even more, but she’s always been kind of greedy when it comes to him and really oxygen is vastly overrated.

She can’t keep her eyes open.

Can’t imagine how anything gets better than this, or them and there’s that pronoun again.

Both of their shoulders heave when they finally have to pull apart, more black than blue in Killian’s eyes and— “We’re really good at that,” she mutters, working a laugh out of him. That he presses against her neck. And under her chin. Drags across her jaw, and up towards her temple, kissing whatever he can reach and everywhere he lands and it takes a power she did not know she possessed for Emma to keep herself from demanding he take his clothes off as well.

She opts for the next best thing. “Thoughts on sleeping in your own bed?”

The eyebrows, honestly. Flying up, and reacting quicker than he can respond and Killian kisses her. Soft and easy, and as normal as anything. “Vast,” he says, mostly into her mouth, “and it’s difficult to fall asleep without you, so it’d be nice to actually do that.” “Yeah, ok. That works.”

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan #captain swan fic #but once a year #festive fic a thon 2k20 #MAGIC SNOWBALL FIGHTS #making a united realms solely to bring back frozen characters???#more likely than you think!!

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risingsouls · 3 years ago

Text

Recruited: Chapter 12

[Just in time for Sinday, this chapter is more self-indulgent smut! It has a point. It really does. And the end is wholesome-ish. So you know. :3 Probably cheesy again but what can ya do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

EDIT: wow knew I would do that. It’s not sinday. I mean it is somewhere. But whatever. I hit post.]

Vegeta

"You're okay with Raditz going to find his brother?"

Vegeta snorted, checking the numbers on his key again to ensure they were still heading in the proper direction. "It's no big loss to us. He'll be the one taking the hit to his pay." He turned the corner and Nabooru followed, their rooms grouped together.

They had arrived at their destination a day early and, at the behest of the other two Saiyans, he agreed to using the down time as a last hurrah for Raditz before his trip to a planet called Earth. Round trip, they expected him to be away nearing half a year, two months to leave their current location to make it to Earth and around four to return to the base they were currently stationed at. And that was if they weren’t moved.

"Raditz is more useful than you give him credit for. And don't give me that, 'he's weak' excuse. He's been running with you guys for decades and done fine. He's not so bad."

Vegeta ignored her, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "If this brother of his exists, he's likely dead." He paused in front of the door matching the number on his key and slipped it into the slot. The door slid open. "Or he failed what should have been an easy mission for even a child to accomplish, meaning he's worthless to us."

He only spared a glance over his shoulder when she followed him into the room. "Then, what's the point of him going?"

"There probably isn't one. But another Saiyan is another Saiyan. If he's out there, it means more firepower for us." Against Frieza. Whatever challenges they faced beyond usurping the tyrant. He knew he didn't need to voice these things; she would catch on.

The Gerudo crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed, palms pressed into the mattress behind her. He narrowed his eyes briefly, but huffed and strode to the window. "Mm, makes sense. Never know what we may face down the line."

"Precisely." He allowed his tail to slip from around his waist. "Anything else you need?"

"No." He glanced over his shoulder, the corners of his lips drooping further downward and dark brows lowered. She tilted her head back and, seeing his deadpan expression, amended, "I mean, not really. Just wanted to...talk."

“Talk,” he repeated, disbelief dripping from his tone. His tail swayed in content arcs. He smirked and turned back toward the bed, arms folded over his chest. “Well, go on then. Talk.”

She scrunched her nose and flopped down on the mattress, her head hanging over the edge. His eyes remained fixed on hers in silent challenge and he could see the gears working behind those golden eyes, struggling to come up with a viable topic of conversation when chatter wasn’t on her mind. For some time after their first tryst, they both successfully remained faithful to maintaining the only once rule. For a time, that single coupling seemed to sate his physical desire for sex in general as well as how it had revolved specifically around fooling around with her. After disposing of the gloves he foolishly left on during, as her scent lingered too strongly on the leather even after washing them, everything returned to normal. The fantasies died down. She invaded his dreams less often, the return of his nightmares somehow better and less of a distraction. He didn’t leave their spars frustrated, craving the nearest cold shower or body of water he could hunt down. His behavior, his insatiable cravings, disgusted him. He felt weak and lacking control of his own body.

Thus, when he finally caved, bent her over the bed, and finally indulged, his issues seemed remedied. Months went by without incident and he was convinced his theory worked, pure professionalism between them returned. Until a spar got too heated. Until they both drank more than they should. Until their “harmless” flirtations and teasing or an argument ignited more in the pair of them than a passing flare of desire. At the very least, they remained infrequent. Few and far between. Quick and with as little extra contact as possible.

He chuckled, switching his scouter off and removing it. He closed the gap between himself and the bed and did the same with hers, keenly aware of her head next to his thigh as he did. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood."

"That's what I was hoping for." She grinned up at him and he rolled his eyes. He headed for the bathroom and dropped the scouters off in the furthest corner, shutting the door behind him upon his return. Nabooru had pushed herself back up to a seated position. "When you barely argued with Nappa and Raditz, I figured you were either in a decent mood or tired. I gambled on the former."

Vegeta grunted and peeled his gloves off, a process closely watched by the woman seated on his bed biting her lip. He didn't understand it, but he had noted her odd fascination with the simple, innocuous gesture. He didn't bother asking her about it either; time with Nappa and Raditz exposed him to all manner of kinks and fetishes that were far stranger and disgusting than this. He tossed them to the side and his armor followed.

"You know," Nabooru lifted her backside off the mattress and returned to the edge in front of him, "if you'll let me, I have a few tricks to out to put you in an even better mood."

"Tch, learn that line from Nappa and Raditz? That's what they say about me after I fuck you, isn't it? That was already the plan."

Her bottom lip poked out slightly, her brows knitting together. "You're good at ruining my mood," she huffed. "And I don't want to hear it. You're the one that confirmed it for them with your damn bragging."

Vegeta cocked his head back and laughed. "It was worth it to see the looks on their faces. They're at least smart enough to keep their big mouths shut about it."

His attention snapped back to her, a jolt of pleasure shooting from the tip of his tail. In his mirth, his traitorous tail swept out from behind him and toward Nabooru. The end rested in her palm, and her thumb caressed along the fur. Heat flooded his cheeks and he whipped the appendage away from her. Understanding flashed in her eyes, and he cursed his carelessness as he returned his tail to his waist.

She at least had the good sense not to prod him about it, and resumed to her previous ramblings. "If they knew you hadn't seen me naked, I'm not sure they would be as impressed," she said. She extended her hand out and trailed her fingertips along to bottom hem of his battle suit's top. "It's almost tragic we've always kept our clothes on."

"That's on purpose." He tried to ignore the brush of her fingertips, the invasive considerations his mind whipped up in light of her suggestion and how her touch would feel on his bare skin. "I only allow this because I need the release, which is pathetic enough."

"So, you don't actually like it when we have sex? It's just a chore?" She tore her gaze away from her finger tracing the indentations of his abdomen and glanced up at him. Her bottom lip protruded once more in a pout, but Vegeta saw a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Of course I like it! I--!"

She slid her hands beneath the spandex of his top and cut him off, and all his mind could manage to consider with coherence was how she still wore her gloves. Leather brushed over his abs and up to his chest and back down again before she removed them entirely. He tried to keep his features neutral, but judging by her soft giggle, he failed.

"Maybe if we switch things up just this once, we can change that. Rather than you just bending me over and fucking me from behind again." She peeled her gloves off with her teeth and kicked off her boots. She extended her leg out to his side, and he fell for the trap of allowing his eyes to follow her hands in their slow procession down her thigh, over her knee and calf, to remove her stocking. His tail unraveled from his waist again as she slipped the other off.

Bending her knees back in, she sat up tall once more, gratefully breaking his trance. She pulled her armor over her head with a pleased sigh and tossed it with his. "What the hell does it matter?" he asked. He crossed his arms as she released her crimson locks from her ponytail. "It's all the same result in the end."

"Wait. So this is just how you've always done it with every partner you've had?"

"Tch, you say that like I've had so many partners before you." He rolled his eyes, ready to kick her out with his waning patience. "But to answer your question, yes, to some degree or other."

Her silence on the matter only further tried his patience, as did the way she observed him with roving eyes and a minute tilt of her head. Warmth filtered into his cheeks again as his mind automatically assumed she judged him but was too cowardly to voice it since her expression only revealed some form of contemplation or another. His fingers twitched into his palms and, just as he decided to flip her over and shove her face into the mattress to get this over with and move on with his day, she stood and stepped forward, further closing the already minuscule gap between them. The difference in their height placed his line of sight directly on her ample chest, a detail he noted more readily without the near shapeless armor pulled over the battle suit. The skin tight fabric left little to the imagination, fitting snugly to her breasts and defining the musculature of her arms and abdomen. All details he never allowed himself to dwell on or appreciate. He had enough trouble keeping his mind off her in a sexual sense, and she wasn’t wrong in her assumption concerning his insistence on maintaining a strict routine when he succumbed to his base desires. He assumed the less tantalization he allowed--from what he saw and heard to the amount of contact and actions he permitted from her and those he took himself--the less likely he was to seek her out for meetings such as this. While the theory had some merit in the span of time he managed to maintain control, it still seemed flawed, considering his imagination still found purchase in lewd fantasies of her from time to time and he found himself fucking her more often than he thought he would.

Movement caused him to unintentionally flinch back. Her arms crossed as she grasped the hem of her top and she pulled it over her head, discarding it with the rest of her garments. She slid her briefs-style bottoms and tossed them aside, returning to her full height and resting her hands on her curvy hips. Once more his gaze locked in at eye level, staring at her exposed breasts and any protest from his former reservations went ignored. He drank in every inch of the exposed, bronzed skin, the scars littering her body in an array of sizes and shapes from a lifetime of fighting, her toned arms, legs, and thighs. His tail swept in content arcs behind him and his gaze trailed up her inner thighs and lingered at the juncture, the managed strip of red hair acting as an arrow to her slit.

His eyes snapped up to her face when she breathed a chuckle, reminding him of just how long he stared. Confidence poured from every inch of her, from the smirk on her lips and the spark in her eyes to the brush of her hair over her shoulder and the upward lift of her chest. It only added to her appeal. As much as part of him screamed to regain control, curiosity and lust won out; he wanted to see where she would take this. Experience all that he denied himself since early adulthood.

She leaned in and her lips brushed his ear, her breath tickling his skin behind his ear and on his neck, sending a chill up his spine, as she whispered, "Relax. You're so tense." Her fingertips swept along his jaw and settled in the center of his chest, eyes meeting his. "You can trust me, Vegeta."

"Can I?" He searched her face for any change, surprise or hesitancy in her claim, but her expression remained resolute. The tip of his tail glided along her outer thigh and wound around the back of it, swishing to caress the inside. He chuckled when she stifled her gasp by biting her lip. He didn't know how far he truly could trust her, not when he still struggled with fully trusting Nappa and Raditz. But he supposed with this he could. For the moment. A lust driven decision, perhaps, but one he didn't care to amend in the moment.

He stepped back and yanked his top off and his pants followed. His smirk returned. It was her turn to stare, her plush lips slightly parted. A further boost to his ego. "Fine. We'll do it your way this time."

"I really did catch you in a good mood." Her palms found his chest and shifted outward along the breadth of it, over his shoulders and down his arms and back up again. She shifted forward and dipped down to bury her face in the crook of his neck. He felt the wicked smirk of her lips when he stiffened at the mere graze of them on the sensitive, neglected area. She nipped at his neck, the jolt of pain a welcome mix with pleasure. "Or was that just because you finally got to see me naked?"

"You talk too much," Vegeta rumbled, head tilting to the side and successfully baiting her licks and bites up his neck. He grasped her ass and squeezed, kneading her cheeks with his palms. His tail ventured further up her inner thigh. He relished in the feel of her soft skin in his hands, pressed against his body. Her roving fingers and lips, her thigh brushing along his hip as she wrapped her free leg around his to coax him toward her, the places where their heated flesh met. She had him intoxicated already, but he shoved the associated panic away; he wanted more.

Nabooru hummed her amusement and awarded his gripe with a harsher nip at his neck. "If it's so horrible, I guess I'll just have to find something that keeps my lips and tongue too busy to talk," she said, hands gliding down his body. The rest of her followed suit, a trail of kisses between his pecs and down the center of his abdomen marking a path as she sank to her knees. She traced her index finger along his half-hard length, eyes hooded and chewing her lip. A shudder raced through him, a product of the contact and the sight of her kneeling before him and the lustful admiration in her eyes.

Her fingers wrapped around the base of his shift, her thumb caressing along the underside. She pressed her lips to the tip then parted them, gaze lifting to watch his as she rubbed the head over her tongue. He bit back a groan and the corners of her lips twisted up in a cheeky grin before she closed her mouth around him.

Her eyes closed, and her hum of appreciation as she slid his length further into her mouth and toward the back of her throat shocked him with the vibration, his whole body tense and heat coiling tightly in his lower abdomen already. She pulled back again until only the head remained in her mouth and opened her eyes again, staring up at him through long lashes. She repeated the motions in a slow, steady bob as if relishing his taste. His reactions, and her hand stroked the remaining half of the length she didn't swallow.

The sensations were wholly new to him, oral another practice he never allowed for the same reasons he kept his trysts as impersonal and quick as possible. The motion and the created friction itself. The moist warmth. The feel of her tongue and the movement that offset the bobbing. The gentle suction and occasional vibration from a hum. The top down view and the desire in her half-lidded gold eyes. He hadn't expected it to feel so different from just fucking her, but it was bliss. He discounted Nappa's and Raditz's lurid praise of it as exaggeration, their stories written off as more of their disgusting habits he wanted no part of. Not that it stopped his mind from imagining it, offering a dream amongst the nightmares in which someone--these days typically the woman currently pleasuring him--sucked him off. Vulnerable position be damned. If she bit his dick off or found some other way to kill him, so be it. It felt too good to stop her at this point.

Vegeta breathed a shuddering sigh and muttered curses under his breath as her ministrations already had him on the brink of a climax. He brushed stray strands of crimson out of her face, earning another appreciative hum around his cock, and he tangled his fingers into her hair. Perhaps sensing his oncoming release, Nabooru quickened her pace and occasionally took him deeper into her throat, another action he didn’t realize he wanted until she did it. His grip tightened in her hair and he grit his teeth, struggling just to keep his knees from buckling. She pulled off of him and allowed her hand to finish her work, her saliva acting as lubrication. Her free hand shifted behind him and wrapped around the base of his tail, another near sickening jolt of pleasure rushing from the pressure point. He growled a “Fuck!” and bowed forward, sharp canines bared as he came. His seed spilled from the tip in spurted rivulets, down his length and over her hand.

His breath hitched in his throat again and his cheeks warmed when she licked him clean with luxuriant strokes. She pulled back and she did the same with her hand, amusement shimmering in her golden eyes and a wicked smirk on her lips. It riled both his anger and desire.

"I thought you'd like that," she said, licking her lips once more and pushing up to her feet. "And you didn't--"

He didn't allow her to finish her statement. He didn't care to hear it. He shoved her onto the bed, knocking the wind out of her in a whoosh of air. He dropped a knee onto the mattress and grabbed her hips, yanking them back toward him and the edge of the bed. He caught a glimpse of the flash of shock on her features and the dawn of gleeful curiosity and her legs settled over his shoulders, her hair a streak of red behind her from being dragged toward him. He leaned in and lifted her hips up toward his face, the strong scent of her arousal and sight of her glistening slit stirring his own once more.

Eager to taste her, he flicked his tongue over the lips, along the full length of her slit, and swirled it around the clitoris at the apex. Though another first, a glance down her body to the woman propped up on her elbows and watching him told him he had a decent start. She bit her lip but he still picked up the stifled moan she held at bay, and he felt her muscles tense up as he sucked on the sensitive nub. He left it behind with another flick of his tongue and dipped down to her entrance. He pushed his tongue inside, nose pressing instead to her clit. He purred and swirled his tongue inside her, relishing her taste and the purposefully muffled sounds his ministrations elicited from her. Another passing wish that he could hear her let loose, moaning and screaming his name…

Her fingers wove into his onyx spikes, the sensation of her nails dragging along his scalp earning her a pleased purr and his tongue’s attention back on her clitoris. He released her thigh with one hand to plunge his middle and third fingers inside of her, pumping them in tandem with the rhythm of his licking and sucking. He watched her with a growing smirk. She pushed her hips toward him needily, and her chest rose and fell rapidly with her panting. Her other hand gripped a handful of sheets in her hands, threatening to tear. Her eyes begged him to bring her to a climax, saying what her lips could not without the risk of the entire floor hearing her. He considered halting altogether, teasing her mercilessly until she begged him for release.

Instead, he decided on a compromise, reminded of his own growing need when her heels dug into his back with the spasm of her muscles in her thighs, abdomen, around his fingers. He curled his fingers once more, flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub, and pulled back, giving her ass a firm squeeze and slap before dropping her on the bed. The prince laughed as she blinked and stared up at him, mouth hanging open.

He climbed on top of her the instant her expression shifted to annoyance, pinning her beneath his weight as he had so many times prior in their spars. This time, he didn't have to stop himself from indulging and taking full advantage of the sexual tension between them. He didn't have to hold back like he did then with the risk of an audience or as he did in their past relations. He didn't have to resist the urge to touch her. Lick her. Squeeze her. Bite her. Mark her. He could contend with tossing his inhibitions and control out the window later; for now he wanted to sate his hunger for her and make his idiotic fantasies a reality.

Vegeta swept his hands up her toned abdomen and cupped her breasts in his hands, massaging them and circling her raised nipples with his thumbs. She arched her spine to press into his touch, her head falling back and leaving her neck vulnerable. He dipped down and licked up the column of her throat, tasting her. He heard her whine as he dragged his teeth back down the same path, sharper canines just nicking through the surface of sensitive flesh in a thin scratch. He diverted his path to one side bit down, drawing a gasp from the Gerudo and blood from the bite. A dark chuckle rumbled in his throat as he lapped the sanguine liquid from her skin and sucked at the spot, her pulse drumming beneath his lips. A series of the same followed along her neck, the only disappointment in the fact that the higher collar of her battle suit would hide the tender splotches from view when she dressed.

Her arms circled around his broad shoulders. Reaching down, he positioned himself at her entrance, the moist warmth on his tip enough to put his teasing to rest. He pushed inside of her, a pleased growl rumbling in the back of his throat to the tune of her gracious praise and her nails digging into his skin. He nipped her neck a final time and pressed his hand into the mattress to push himself upright, the pain of her unintentional scratches over his shoulder blades pleasing. Grasp on her hips, he began a slow pace with powerful, deep thrusts, observing her. Deciding if he truly had missed anything with always preferring to fuck her from behind. Her writhing fanned her hair out around her like a fiery corona stark against white sheets. She wore a playful smile on her lips, and her gold eyes were once more hooded and roving along his body, perhaps doing the same as him. Her breasts bounced with each thrust and he once more admired the toned muscles of her belly. She moved her hips in tandem with his motions, and his focus was drawn to the sight of his cock driving in and out of her. He kept his new preference for seeing it from this side to himself, though if she paid attention, she would see how long his eyes lingered in the constantly disappearing space between them.

Her hum snatched his attention upward, and her back arched as she languidly lifted up from the mattress. Her thighs tightened around his waist and she straddled his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. “Don’t stop,” she breathed in response to his protesting growl, half-hearted in the wake of where the new position placed her breasts. Her hips continued to rock at the same pace they had established before, and her hands rested on his shoulders, head bowed over his. “Just trust me and keep fucking me.”

Adjusting his position, he slipped his grip to her ass and squeezed, giving one side a punishing slap for once more changing things up and, in his mind, overcomplicating the process. “If you didn’t feel so fucking good, I would stop for all your damn indecision,” he responded huskily, leaning in to catch a pert nipple in his mouth and causing her laughter to morph into a moan. He shoved his hips upward with more force, his own chuckle rumbling in his chest when her nails sank into his back and she buried her face in his hair.

The familiar heat coiled in his lower abdomen with the quicker pace and more powerful thrusts he implemented. The needy jerk of her hips and the tightening of her walls signaled the approach of her own orgasm and pushed him closer to his own. He swept a hand up to cup her breast, lips latching onto the other to tease her nipple with teeth and tongue. Within moments, she tossed her head back and just managed to slap her hand over her gaping mouth to stifle a pleasured scream, tremors racing through her body and her nails digging deeper into his skin.

The sound of her climax, the scent of blood and sex, the picturesque curve of her body in the throes of her orgasm were almost too much. Shoving her back again, he pinned her wrists above her head and pounded into her with reckless abandon, free hand and tail pushing her thighs toward her abdomen. His smirk grew as he witnessed her struggle to maintain the last dregs of discretion they could with their secret trysts, biting her lip but the whimpers still eeking through.

“Scream, woman,” he commanded. Confusion flashed over her flushed features and reminded him for a split second of the stupidity of it. Of the risk it invited. But he didn’t care. His addled brain convinced him he needed to hear her more than he needed to be careful. His grip on her wrists tightened and he reinforced his demand with a rougher pace. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

Perhaps tired of holding back herself, the tension that always loomed over their coupling dissipated with his okay to let loose. She arched against his restraints and let out a full-bodied moan, hearing one properly pushing him to speed up the thrust of his hips to elicit more and earn that scream he desired. His hand slipped down her thigh to slap her backside again.

She writhed beneath him and she tensed again, her body snapping upward against his hand. “Fuck! Vegeta!”

It was like she pulled a trigger. With a final deep thrust and a roar, he came deep inside her, legs and arms threatening to give way beneath him and stars erupting over his vision. He released her wrists and thighs and his head fell forward, his breathing came in heavy pants and a hand planted near her head for support. He rolled his hips with hers as they rode out their orgasms, a purr vibrating in his throat with her mumbled praises.

The sensation of her fingers gliding up his back and into his hair again recalled his attention to her. "See?" She nipped his bottom lip. "That was fun, and if you try to tell me you didn't like it, I'll know you're lying."

"Hmpt…" The Saiyan pulled out of her and flopped onto the mattress next to her. "Of course it was enjoyable. Sex usually is to some degree."

He heard her snort and the bed shifted beneath them, and a glance over found her lying on her side propped up by her elbow. “Coming from the guy that lets himself get pent up to the point of near desperation?” Vegeta shot her a glare to which she grinned in the face of. “It’s a little hard to believe you think that at all. But I guess I’ve seen the proof firsthand multiple times now.”

“You spend too much time with Nappa and Raditz. It has warped your perception.”

She hummed and his entire body bristled when she idly caressed the tip of his tail as it passed her by in its content swooping along the sheets between them. “You’re probably right. Even though I don’t partake, it’s easy to forget not everyone wants to constantly use sex as a form a relaxation. Escape...or a distraction...”

Vegeta eyed her a moment longer, the last two a suspected confession than an observation. He didn’t care what purpose the sex served for her; he couldn’t say his motives for caving to his desires were much different. He found that the window of time offered him a moment of reprieve from his troubles: facing Frieza and the seeming impossibility of the task, conquering planets for a tyrant instead of his own empire, how he and his cohorts could possibly bring glory back to the Saiyan race with only three possibly four still living. As a bonus, she eliminated the daunting and annoying task of tracking down a favorable partner he felt worthy of his time. Far pickier about who he let warm his bed than his cohorts, the prince welcomed the ease seeking Nabooru out offered him.

He laced his fingers behind his head and averted his gaze to the brightly painted ceiling. “Embarrassing as it is for me, I suppose they could have worse vices. And soon we’ll thankfully only have to deal with Nappa’s idiocy for a while.”

“Mm. It will be different…” She sat up and stretched her arms over her head, and he drank in the stunning sight of her torso fully extending upward and gentle arch of her back. The hint of a smirk tilted the corners of her full lips upward. “I guess I should go take a shower like I said I was going to. I’m sure we’ll have to hear it from the other two at this rate, if not for the time we’ve spent up here then for hearing me scream like that. Are you going to come down for a few drinks?”

“We’ll see.”

Nabooru rolled her eyes and began to climb over him, but paused and straddled his waist. She observed him with a tilt of her head, smirk still on her lips and biting her bottom lip. Vegeta felt the cursed fire in his cheek as his mind betrayed him and willed her to shift half a foot backward.

“What are you doing?” he grunted, considering shoving her off but not quite finding the will to do it. “Get the hell off and go take your shower.”

She dragged her nails lightly down his chest, a tingle racing down his spine. “Just checking something. I’ll definitely have to ride you properly next time.”

She leaned down and pressed her lips to his. A first--for him in his lifetime and certainly for the two of them together--that, if the way she pulled back a few inches after mere seconds and stared at him with wide eyes, appeared to surprise her as much as it did him. A habit for her, he surmised, one that the ease of their encounter coerced her into. One he stupidly found he didn't hate as the sensation of the pressure of her lips on his lingered. His frown deepened before he cupped her cheek and leaned up to return it. He felt her physically relax on top of him as the tension dissipated once more and they parted a moment later.

As she climbed off of him and slid off the bed, instinct placed the denial of a next time on the tip of his tongue, but he had to swallow it. How many times had he claimed the same and, months later, he succumbed again? He doubted this time would be any different, so he settled on a huff and watched her gather her battle suit and armor.

"You know, I was thinking…"

Vegeta snorted. "Isn't that what got us into this mess?"

She slid the bottoms of her battle suit up her calves and thighs, snapping them over her backside. "And you should be thanking me for that." Her arms and then her head disappeared into her top and she tugged it down. "But seriously. I was thinking about how, maybe when this is all over, you, Nappa, and Raditz could make Hyrule your home base. I'm sure you'll all get along with the Gerudo well. And..."

She trailed off and sat on the edge of the bed to slide her stockings back on. Her words caused him to shift up to his elbow and narrow his eyes slightly. She caught his gaze in the mirror across from them and rushed on. "I figured it might be nice for you guys to have somewhere you could call home after not having one for so long. A place to go in between...whatever you plan to do after."

“Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we? We barely have a plan,” he sneered, pushing himself upright to sit properly. His tail curled around his waist. In truth, he hadn’t considered such details of the future. Nothing horribly concrete, anyway. Killing Frieza and securing his empire for himself was as far as he had gotten. He hadn’t considered the idea of creating a new home for himself and the other two. And he wasn’t sure if it was simply because he had grown so used to jumping from base to base depending on where he and his cohorts were needed or if deep down, the cynical voice that occasionally overpowered his confidence and bravado had indeed convinced him his efforts to dethrone Frieza were pointless.

Considering her offer further, he didn’t doubt he and the other remaining Saiyans would fit in with her people. Being new to the Empire and recently conquered by the Gerudo, their loyalty to Frieza could be flimsy, making it a decent place to start for amassing his army as well. Many of Frieza’s loyalists would refuse to follow him so willingly, after all. And...perhaps a proper home wouldn’t be all that horrible. It would never be Planet Vegeta, but he at least was too young to have too much attachment to the planet itself anyway.

Nabooru swept her hair up toward the crown of her head and tied it in a loose ponytail. “I know. But I guess I can’t help but be optimistic.” She shrugged a shoulder and glanced back at him. “I want to go home. You want revenge and to take what you feel is rightfully yours. I think we’re both determined enough to succeed. And as far as that Super Saiyan thing goes, I feel if anyone can figure that out, it will be you.”

“Tch, of course I will. But that doesn’t mean you three can slack off and leave all the work to me.”

She snorted and pulled on her boots, rising to her feet and tugging her gloves over her hands. “I can’t speak for the other two, but I have every intention of keeping up with you. Maybe I’ll become a Super Gerudo.”

“Ha! We’ll see,” he taunted, smirk returning. If he unlocked the Super Saiyan transformation, she didn’t have a prayer in keeping up with his power, but he did admire her steadfast tenacity for improving. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching. “I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”

“Wasn’t it you who specifically asked for my help with this?” She shot him a grin before disappearing into the bathroom and retrieving their scouters. She tossed the red to him and dangled her orange one from her index finger. "Must mean you think pretty highly of my prowess as a warrior, right? So why shouldn’t I be able to?"

"You do well enough for my purposes." Vegeta laughed at the annoyed tilt of her head and shoved passed her to the bathroom, keen on cleaning up himself. He would have enough to answer for without her scent lingering on him. “If you’re so determined, then you can spar me later. We’ll appease the fools and their stupid send off idea and then I can see just how close you are to making good on that claim of keeping up.”

“It has been awhile. I have been thinking about a few new techniques to try.” She hooked her armor over her forearm and strode to the door, her fingers lingering over the switch to open it. “You should think about what I said sometime, though. Even if not Hyrule or whatever number Frieza has given it by now...just knowing you have a home to go back to and a place to call home is….comforting.”

She didn’t wait around for his response, pressing the button and exiting the room. Vegeta gave the thought little more attention than he already had. Such sentimentality, such a longing would only hinder him at this point. If fighting to return to her planet, her home, motivated her to get stronger and aid him in toppling Frieza, so be it. For him, the word home had long since lost such meaning to him. He found his own comfort in dreaming of slaughtering Frieza and reclaiming what was meant to be his. In the freedom it would afford him to do as he pleased, to conquer for his own empire. Securing a proper home for him and the remaining Saiyans mattered little for the moment, a detail to be worked out upon his success and not a moment sooner. Or perhaps not at all, as the attachment would be a prime target for his enemies.

Vegeta clicked his tongue, closing the door behind him. He switched the shower on and stepped in, not bothering with adjusting the temperature or concerned with the frigid water pouring over him. He had no need for such distracting thoughts. The task at hand was daunting enough, improbable if not impossible. He had no room for thoughts outside of dealing with Frieza and surviving in the meantime. Though it would test his patience, he would end that bastard no matter how long it took. By whatever means necessary. Of that much he was sure.

#fic: recruited #// vegeta ♅#:: nabooru ☀#.:not sfw:.

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