#-sips tea- careful buddy you’re already half dead

[dick-meister]

Oh he’s fuming. Man. Who knew he’d come out of this angry. He’s holding himself back right now but fuck does he have words.

[imagine-this-fandom]

BNHA x Fem! Reader: The Rescue- Purple Ragdoll

The rescue intro: here

A/N:

Happy New Year everyone! Hope everyone is staying safe and had a good New Years Eve. Thank you all for your support, I'm really happy to be writing for you. I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, but I hope you all enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*

Inko led you back into the main store and past rows of all sorts of tanks. She paused and tucked Izuku into one of them before she continued along, stopping in front of a door with cute little pawprints running up the side. At the top of the door, the word CATS was in big bold letters. She opened the door and ushered you inside, carefully closing the door behind you.

You took in the chaos of the cat room, eyes following Inko as she expertly dodged cats and weaved through various cat toys on her way to a cat tree in the back. The room was filled with cats of all shapes and sizes.  You decided it would be best if you stayed put. The last thing you needed was to accidentally step on one of the cute animals. That would be a rather unfortunate end to your budding experience as a pet owner. When Inko saw that you were standing alone, she made a tutting noise and went back, grabbing your arm before leading you over to the quiet corner she had scouted earlier.

You followed her curiously, trying not to trip on the felines winding around your legs, which was an intense feat as they seemed to really like you for some reason. You came to a stop in front of one of those hanging cat hammock things. Inside, was a fluffy cat with strangely lilac tinted fur that was ruffled and sticking out at all angles. You searched your limited knowledge about animals before settling on the breed. The cat before you was the sleepiest looking ragdoll cat you had ever seen. The fur under his eyes was darker than the fur around it, giving it the illusion of deep purple eye bags. He looked kind of run down if you were honest as if no amount of naps in the world could make him energetic. He was definitely not what you expected. He reminded you of Grumpy cat but exhausted.

Inko smiled warmly at you while clasping her hands to her chest, watching your reaction closely.

“This is Shinsou! I think he’d be the perfect cat for you.”

Like the black cat from earlier, there was something really intelligent about Shinsou. Either that or the look of confusion he shot Inko was purely coincidental and you were misreading things. Regardless, there was something about him that you gravitated towards.

“You’re sure? He wouldn’t be happier with someone more experienced?” Inko just shook her head and lifted the drowsy cat out of his hammock. He wasn’t too concerned and had accepted his fate at this point in time, not really having the energy to protest anyway. She carefully deposited the cat into your arms and bustled off to gather supplies for you. You looked down at the bundle of fluff in your arms and he, in turn, stared up at you with a bored expression.

Shinsou was vaguely interested in how this would go.  Considering he was not a normal cat by any means, it should prove to be an interesting experience. If all else failed, he was intelligent enough to escape and come back to the store, he mused. But for now, you hadn’t done anything that indicated you were going to be difficult to work with and Inko seemed to approve of you, so he just yawned and settled into your arms, enjoying the change from the flannel hammock to your warm arms.  You were kind of freaked out by the newness of the situation, but Shinsou didn’t seem to care what was going on, and his nonchalant attitude put you more at ease.

While you waited, you began to pet him. A smile tugged on your lips as he basically melted in your arms, face pressed against your collarbone and a contented purr escaping his chest. He was obviously enjoying your soothing touch, more than he wanted to admit to himself even. That was encouraging, and you decided then and there you would die for this animal should the need ever arise.

When inko returned with a cat carrier, you were a bit hesitant to put him inside. You were bonding! As reluctant as you were, the carrier was probably your safest and easiest method of getting him home. You laid him inside on the cat bed and he was out like a light within minutes. He was peacefully sleeping as you latched the carrier shut and listened to the instructions Inko gave you. You were determined to be the best pet owner possible for him.

It wasn’t long before you left the shop, new pet in hand and a strange new warmth settling in your chest at the thought of sharing your home with your sleepy new companion. ~~~~~

You sighed tiredly as you closed the door behind you, happy to be out of the biting cold. You had let Shinsou sleep in his carrier on the way over, so you just popped the door open once you were inside so he could explore when he was ready. You gave his sleeping form a small smile before you retreated to your bedroom for the night.

He was still sleeping when you woke up around 8 the next morning, so you let him be and began your morning routine. You hummed to yourself as you waited for your coffee to brew and scrolled through social media on your phone.

Shinsou roused at the rich scent of coffee filled the air. As a human, he swore it almost ran through his veins. He took after his mentor in his love for coffee, the bitter beverage giving him the energy his training and hero work often stole. Inko always had tea instead when she worked at the pet store, so the familiar scent was quite a shock to his system. He stretched lazily before ambling out of the pet carrier. His purple eyes locked on the mug you held as you made your way to the couch.

You smiled brightly at him as you sat down, not noticing where his intent gaze was directed.

“Hey pretty boy, sleep well?”

He turned his gaze to you, almost disgusted by the fact that you were so awake and perky already. Usually, it took him at least half an hour to fully wake up, so your sunshine smile was absolutely unfair considering how early it was. He gave you a deadpan stare in response that triggered an even wider smile. Good grief.

He hopped up onto the couch beside you, waiting for an opportunity to steal your beverage.

He didn’t have to wait long though, you had just taken a sip before your phone rang. You looked down at the contact name and your expression twisted into one of weary acceptance. You hit the answer button and stood, coffee abandoned as you paced and listened to the voice on the other end of the phone.

Shinsou would smirk to himself if cats could. He made a beeline for the cup and quickly drank his fill. Meanwhile, you were not having nearly as good of a time.

“Sir, please, it’s my first day off in weeks. Are you positive no one else can cover the shift?”

“I wouldn’t be calling you if I didn’t already know, (y/n). Are you going to show, or not? Need I remind you that you’re on thin ice with your attendance?”

You bit your lip, the tiredness settling into your expression before you took a deep breath and forced your customer service smile.

“Yes sir, I’ll see you in an hour and a half”

“Good. Don’t be late.”

You heard the line go dead on the other side and nearly screamed, hands clenching against the phone as you resisted the urge to throw your device. The job was infuriating, but it was steady and dependable. You didn’t have a quirk, so finding work was a bit of a process, and you couldn't afford to be choosy at the moment. You lamented this fact as you sunk onto the couch beside him, any energy the coffee had given was now sapped away.

Shinsou had only caught bits and pieces of the conversation, but he already knew he didn’t care for your boss. He had only known you for a day, but he didn’t like how quickly that sunshine smile disappeared as if covered by stormy clouds. It was disconcerting. He watched your expressions go through the stages of grief before settling on tired acceptance.

You sighed heavily and scratched the top of his head.

“Sorry, buddy. I wanted to spend the day getting to know you, but the big boss says I have to get to work.”

You pouted unhappily before stretching. You hated your job, but you weren’t going to spend time feeling bad for yourself. You had to be strong, this job was what enabled you to have Shinsou too, so at least something good came of it. You scratched behind Shinsou's ears before standing and plastering on a fake smile.

"well, no time to waste if I want to get to work on time. I'll be back before you know it. Try not to wreck the house while I'm gone."

He watched you leave and go to your room to prepare for work. He took this time left alone to look around. The living room was fairly plain but comfortable enough. There weren't any photos or personal touches up on the wall. He wandered the living room, mapping it out in his head and taking careful note of any possible escape routes. By the time he had explored all the open rooms, you had found your way back into the main room. You were holding a few bobby pins in your teeth as you fixed your hair into a high ponytail.

Your uniform was typical of a barista and he could just make out the logo of a local cafe on the corner. Huh. Juniper Glow. He actually recognized the cafe. He frequented the place when he was still human. It was open 24/7 so it was a lifesaver after long patrols. He couldn't remember ever meeting you, but it had been quite some time since he had visited. Maybe you were new?

You grabbed the essentials needed for your job, grimacing as you caught sight of the clock. You crouched down and scratched under Shinsou's chin before you shouldered your purse again.

"Alright Shinsou, I'm heading out. Be good for me, okay? Don't trash the house.  I'll see you in a few hours."

Shinsou stopped himself from nodding, knowing it would only freak you out, and stared at you with a tilted head as if to ask "cause trouble, who, me?"

You gave him one last dazzling smile before dashing out the door.

Shinsou watched the door close and was surprised to find himself a bit disheartened with the quiet now encompassing the house. He supposed he was used to the noise now. From the crowded cat room to the way you spoke to him like a person, he wasn't used to the silence anymore. He wondered how much other things would change as he stayed with you.

~~~~~~

Some things never changed. Despite having no hero work or classes, Shinsou was still tired all the time. You found his tiredness endearing and took every opportunity to cuddle him while he napped.

The first time this happened, he was surprised. He was peacefully napping on the couch while you were occupied with a hero documentary. He was content to snooze next to you when a sudden movement changed his position. You had carefully scooped him up and he was now resting in your lap. He would have moved, but honestly? You were comfortable and warm. Not to mention you were petting him too. The soft strokes and your fingers carding through his fur relaxed him. He melted into your touch and was surprised when he started to purr at the attention. You smiled, your documentary no longer the center of your attention.

He wouldn't admit it, but he was quite enjoying your attention. At first, he thought this whole pet thing was going to be a fun challenge to exploit and then escape. However, he was growing attached to you. That might end up a problem. He was going to be human again, one day. He would make sure of it. And he couldn't let you get too used to him.

Still... this was nice. He liked being held and cared about, even though he was used to being and working alone. He was ostracized for having a villain's quirk, so he was definitely not used to people spending so much time with him. Midoriya and his mentor were his support system, but this was somehow different. He would have to think about this more... But for now, he would enjoy these moments with you.

Fortunately for him, these moments became quite frequent. You loved having Shinsou with you and nearly every moment spent at home was spent with your cat. You talked to him as you cooked, you watched TV with him on your lap, you even let him sit on your bed while you read before heading to bed.

This routine continued for months and you admitted for the first time since you moved to Japan, that you were happy. ~~~~~~~~

You opened the door for Shinsou. The sun shone brightly on the two of you as you waited. Shinsou trotted out and joined you on the porch before you closed the door, being mindful of his tail.

The two of you set off at a leisurely pace. You had decided to take Shinsou with you on your trip to the local farmer’s market. You wanted to get some produce for a fruit dessert you wanted to try and also stop by the bakery that was nearby. You smiled down at Shinsou as he plodded along by your side. He was such a clever cat and you found him fascinating. The few times he had gotten out, he merely followed you to work before going home. Unbeknownst to you, this was his way of making sure you stayed safe. While he couldn't fully protect you in this form, he would do his absolute best to protect you should trouble to arise.  When you took him out on purpose for the first time, he stayed dutifully by your side.  This lead to many walks when the weather was pleasant.

He was secretly pleased now that you trusted him to stay with you as you go places. This also meant he could spend more time with you. Although, he wished he was human for these walks. He had been with you for four months now, and he knew you quite well. He enjoyed his time with you and that simple companionship he shared while living with you had grown to be more than fondness on his end. He started to care for you more than he thought he would. He became more worried about your safety, upset on your behalf whenever your boss inevitably called you in on your few days off. He did his best to remind you of your own health, making sure you went to bed at a semi-decent hour. He cared about you, really cared about you. And it was moments like these he couldn't deny it anymore. He looked up at you as the two of you walked.

He wanted to know what it was like to hold your hand, fingers entwining as you babbled cheerfully about your day, him content to listen to your sweet voice. He wanted to compliment you on the sundress you chose to wear for your trip to the market, he wanted to tease you about how excited you were getting for fruit. But that didn’t seem to be a possibility, so he had to content himself with these small outings and the fact he could still be with you as a friend.

You were chatting about all the delicious things you were going to buy, looking back over at him with a bright sunshine smile that he hadn't expected to adore as much as he did.

"Ooh! And don't think I'm leaving you out, there are a bunch of fruits cats are allowed to eat! I can't just treat myself and leave my best boy hungry!"

He would have smiled, but instead settled on a rumbling meow, purr sneaking into the noise.  Warmth filled his chest as you turned back to face ahead. He walked with you for a while more, the warm feeling of the affection fading but also growing more intense but in a new way.

Shinsou blinked in confusion as a strange sensation started to take over, the warmth shifting, contorting into something different. His head was swimming and his entire body was starting to tingle. He almost tripped over his own paws as he made his way to an alleyway, not wanting you to see him this disoriented. His gaze swimming in front of him. He stumbled into the alleyway, his body felt like it was on fire. Fire spread through his nervous system as his body gave up fighting and the bubbling feeling spreading through his veins surged through him. All at once, there was a pop sound and the feeling disappeared, leaving Shinsou panting on the cold concrete of the alley. He opened his eyes and was quickly struck by the difference in sensations he was feeling as well as the heightened colors. He groaned and threw his arm over his eyes before realizing the change in limbs. He quickly sat up and realized with awe that he was human again. Naked, but human. A grin spread across his face and he wobbled to his feet, getting used to being tall again. He took a few minutes to reorient himself.

He heard your voice calling his name and butterflies took flight in his stomach. You sounded worried and upset, voice frantic as you repeated his name. You were looking for him. Cat him. Well, that was a problem. He looked around for a hiding place and was relieved to spot a fairly out of sight around a corner.

As much as he would love to go out there and sweep you off your feet in his true form, he knew that would be absolutely terrifying and the worst way he could go about this. He peeked out from behind the corner, watching your worried form as you carefully searched the alleyway. He ducked back behind the wall before you saw him and his eyes landed on a convenient clothesline. Huh. How convenient. He’d have to think about the uncanny timing later because he heard male voices floating down the alleyway. He grabbed the clothes and threw them on, making a mental note to compensate the original owner when he gets the chance.

Meanwhile, you were looking between two men in front of you. They had followed you into the alley, insisting they were worthy of your attention and could help you find your cat. However, they didn’t really seem to know what personal space was and were quite insistent. You were obviously uncomfortable, a nervous smile in place, but they didn’t seem to understand. You inched backward until your back met the bricks behind you as you put distance between the men trying to avoid coming off as impolite. You really just wanted to find Shinsou and go home.

“Excuse me gentlemen, but I really should be going…” Your eyes darted around, searching for an opening to escape. Your eyes stopped their search when the man closest to you put his hand on the wall, leaning closer and effectively caging you in.

“Oh come on, we’ll worry about finding your cat later. Besides, you look a little turned around yourself, like a little deer that lost its way.” He smiled in a way that you believed was meant to be charming.

“Oh, no, I'm not lost.” You cringed back and gave him a nervous smile.

“This little deer looks thirsty,” The second man commented, tilting his head as he looked you over appreciatively. “We should take her for a cup of tea.”

You bit your lip, clenching your fists in an effort not to wring them nervously. Or wring their necks, you were undecided at the moment.

“No thanks, my sister's expecting me.” You bluffed, hoping it was enough to deter the two men.

“She's pretty cute for a Deer. How old are you, anyway? You live around here?”

The first man ignored your poor attempt of diversion and continued to press, not giving up.

“Leave me alone.”

You cringed away, dipping your head away as your mind swirled with possible lies and excuses to give to get away from them. You had other things to do, namely finding Shinsou.

The second man rolled his eyes at his friend, nudging his shoulder playfully. “You see? Your mustache scares all the girls.”

The first once chuckled, reaching out a finger to lightly brush against your cheek. “So? She's even cuter when she's scared.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you scrunched them closed, hot embarrassment and anger threatening to spill over. You jolted a little as a hand rested softly on your shoulder from beside you and gently pulled you away from the men and against a warm chest.

“There you are, sweetheart. Sorry I'm late. I was looking everywhere for you.”

A deep voice rumbled from the mystery man behind you. His grip was soft, almost nonexistent to give you the option to escape. But… He felt safe, for some reason.

The first man looked at the stranger, irritated gaze flickering between him and you, prompting you to lean more into the stranger. You were already going with his story, so you were going to make it convincing!

“Hey, we're busy here.” The first man scowled.

You could hear the smirk in the Stranger’s voice with his next words.

“Are you really?”

Both men made sounds of protest before something strange happened. Their limbs went slack, all tension disappearing as a glazed look appeared in their eyes, the words dying on their tongues.

“It looked to me like the two of you were just leaving.”

You watched in awe as the men walked away, just like that. As soon as your would-be tormentors were out of sight you whirled around to face your mysterious hero. Any words of thanks you were thinking of immediately fled your mind upon seeing him.

Oh no, you found him very attractive. He had unruly purple hair that flared out as if he had just been caught in the wind. Striking purple eyes that seemed even more brilliant considering the dark circles under them. You were fairly certain you would have gotten lost in them had you not noticed his bizarre choice of clothes. He was wearing a T-shirt that was a little bit too small for him and sweatpants and was...barefoot? You blinked in confusion at his feet before he cleared his throat and you snapped out of your daze.

“Are you alright?” He regarded you with concern, those dark purple eyes focused on your own.

You nodded quickly.

“I'm alright, thanks to you. What did you do to them, was that your quirk?”

He cringed at the mention of his quirk and one hand went to rub the back of his neck in discomfort as he averted his eyes.

“Yes, my quirk is brainwash. I can control people, but only after they’ve responded to a question of mine.”

He waited for the rejection and distrust that came with telling people about his “Villain” quirk. While people like Midoriya told him it could be used for good, most people still jumped to the criminal conclusion first. And although he hoped you would be different, he knew it would hurt so much more if you found his quirk frightening. He actually cared what you thought of him.

Your eyes widened and you considered the new info you gathered. You noticed he looked apprehensive, he was waiting for you to respond. An excited smile spread across your face.

“That’s an amazing quirk! It’s so useful! You could talk villains into custody, help in hostage situations, and stop fights before they even happen! There are so many possibilities! That’s so cool!”

Shinsou was shocked silent. Your beaming smile was dazzling and his mind refused to form coherent thoughts. The butterflies from earlier came back full force and it took him a second to remember how to breathe.

“You… really think all that?”

His voice was hesitant and hopeful but you misunderstood his quiet for awkwardness.

“I really do! Sorry if I got carried away there, I just think it’s a really cool quirk.”

You gave him a shy smile, trying to tone down your enthusiasm.

“And... Thank you for, you know.”

You gestured awkwardly to the direction the men went.

“I was starting to get really uncomfortable there. You were a lifesaver.”

You shot him another smile and he felt the tips of his ears go hot and his chest fill with warmth but pushed the feeling down and disguised it with a lazy smirk.

“Don’t give me all the credit, I just wanted to prevent their murder. You looked plenty capable. Still, I couldn't pass up my chance to find a smooth way to talk to you."

You grinned, quite taken by his charming words. Still, you had other things to worry about.

"Hmmm, as much as I'd love to continue getting compliments, I'm on a mission."

He raised an amused eyebrow.

"Oh? My apologies for keeping you.  If I can be of any assistance, just say the word."

You looked him up and down before nodding in confirmation.

"Yep. You'll do. You're purple, so I need your help to find my purple cat. Think you can manage it?"

He considered your words before grimacing.

"As much as I'd love to be your knight in shining armor and find him, that's not going to be so easy, all things considering."

Your amused look faded into one of confusion.

"And why is that?"

He avoided looking at you for a moment, his anxious behavior starting to worry you.

"Ask a question only your cat would know."

You stared at him in confusion, starting to wonder if the man was as sane as you had first thoughtAfterall, you had found him in an alleyway without shoes, so your chances weren't the best.

He grimaced and tried again.

"Ask me something only your cat would know, humor me, please. You can decide not to believe me or run or whatever, but please do this for me and listen first."

You were beginning to get scared. His tone was so much more serious than before. Still, something about him was familiar, and felt safe.  Taking a deep breath, you focused on him, scanning his face as you decided on your question.

"What did I call Shinsou when he broke my favorite mug?"

He honestly looked taken aback for a moment, eyes wide before he started cracking up, deep chuckles shaking his shoulders.

"of all things to ask, you chose the moment when I messed up?"

You froze, the implications of his words sinking in. There's no way... You scowled at him, enraged at the idea of someone pretending to be your best friend.  Still, the more you thought about it, the more similarities you saw. He really did look like the human version of your cat, eyebags and all. It was uncanny, but you knew that you wouldn't be able to tell for sure unless he answered.

He stopped laughing a leveled you with an amused smirk. "You called me an emo furbie before flinging yourself onto the couch and proclaiming that love was dead and you had been punished for your addiction to caffeine. "

You felt like you had been sucker-punched. Your brain short-circuited and you inhaled heavily. Shinsou's smirk dropped and he watched you with concern. He reached out to you as if to help you, but hesitated, unsure if you would want him to touch you. He looked at you with panic as your expression morphed between anger and something he couldn't identify.

"Shinsou... It's really you? But how? You're human now, how did that happen?"

He gave a small sigh of relief that you actually believed him.

"It's a really long story, but I was a human first. I'm a pro hero, but I was hit by a quirk that turned me into a cat. I thought I was going to be a cat forever until I met you. Somehow you were the missing piece that countered the quirk"

You nodded tiredly at his explanation, still a bit in shock, but less upset. You sighed and stepped forward, grabbing his hand before yanking him after you as you started walking.

He stumbled after you, confused but also pleased that you were holding onto him.

"uh, where are we going?"

You rolled your eyes before looking back at him.

"First, we're going to go get you some actual clothes. And shoes. Then we, are going home. You're still my Shinsou, and I'm still you're (y/n). Things have just shifted a little."

You flashed him a small smile, some of that sunshine that he loved shining through your eyes and he swore his heart skipped a beat.

"I'd love that. And I can't wait to tell you everything. The story, and how much I care about you."

You blushed as he raised the hand you were holding to his lips and kissed your knuckles, a small smile of his own in place.

Taglist:

@witch-o-memes

[madasthesea]

Trope: Jealousy

“You’re not my brother.”

Peter blinks at the little dark haired girl in front of him. He’d met Morgan a couple times, in the hospital with Tony. She’d been shy, but sweet, so this is unexpected. “Um, no, I—I’m not.”

Morgan eyes him for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed in aggravation. “Daddy calls you my brother, but you aren’t.”

“O-ok.”

Tony walks in then, his face creased in exhaustion and pain. The burns on his face pull down one side of his mouth in a perpetual frown.

But the heaviness is temporary. The second he sees Peter and Morgan his eyes light up, the frown twists up into a half-smile. He looks younger.

Peter’s heart flips in his chest at the sight, grief and gratitude in equal measure. Tony meets his eyes and his eyebrows crease like he can hear Peter’s thoughts. Tony takes a breath and opens his mouth—

“Daddy!” Morgan cries. Peter flinches as the moment is abruptly shattered.

“Hello, little miss,” Tony says, casually scooping her up into his good arm, propping her on his hip and kissing her cheek, making her giggle. “Have you been playing with Pete?”

They hadn’t been, really, but Morgan nods all the same. Tony carries her into the kitchen to begin lunch, leaving Peter alone in the living room.

Morgan roars as she brings her stuffed dragon down on the Lego castle Peter had helped her build. Peter fakes terrified screaming, making Morgan laugh.

Morgan seems to like Peter well enough when it’s just the two of them. She’ll play with him and watch movies, and on the rare occasion Tony and Pepper go out she’ll listen when he tells her it’s time for bed. But the second Tony is involved, Morgan gets fiercely protective of his attention and easily annoyed with Peter, as if he’s a babysitter who’s no longer needed once her dad’s home.

It’s not like Peter doesn’t know why Morgan doesn’t like him—she’s spent her whole life with Tony by her side every minute of every day and now suddenly Tony’s attention is divided. She’s an only child, she isn’t used to having to share. And she’s too young to know how to vocalize her jealousy to her dad. But it makes life pretty awkward for Peter. He can’t just turn down all of Tony’s invitations to visit, nor does he want to. He loves being around Tony, cherishes the time they spend together. But now, more often than not, it’s interrupted by Morgan throwing a tantrum or dragging Tony away to play with her.

Last week, Morgan had tried to follow them into the lab—where she knows she is absolutely not allowed to go—and had been so upset when she couldn’t come with that they had ended up foregoing lab time altogether and spent the afternoon having a tea party instead, with Tony and Peter sending each other baleful looks as they sipped their imaginary beverages.

It comes to a head the next weekend. It isn’t one of Peter’s scheduled visits, but the minor concussion and six inch gash up his back mean that he’s at the Stark cabin anyway, Tony having sent a suit to fish him out of a rain drenched dumpster.

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter says for the umpteenth time as Tony vigorously dries his hair with a towel.

Tony hums in disagreement, barely listening. “’Don’t open a Med Center in Queens,’ Pepper says. ‘Peter will think you’re hovering,’ Rhodey says—”

“You are hovering,” Peter interrupts. Tony just keeps muttering.

“They aren’t the ones that have to fly to the city twice a week to drag an unconscious, bleeding, delirious Spider-kid all the way back to the freaking boonies—”

“I am neither unconscious nor delirious. And you weren’t even flying that suit, technically.”

“Stop talking and get your suit off, you need stitches,” Tony snaps. He tugs on Peter’s ear in annoyance, but the touch is so light it’s more of a caress than anything, belying the anger in his tone. He’s just worried. It would be more annoying if Peter wasn’t the exact same way.

Peter peels the suit off down to his waist, sitting at the kitchen island while Tony gets the supplies he needs. Peter can hear Tony washing his hands and when he does come and touch Peter’s back, his fingers are warm from the hot water.

Peter takes a deep breath and does his best to relax under Tony’s touch, rather than tense up in anticipation of the stitches.

“There you go, buddy,” Tony murmurs. His voice has entirely lost its edge now, his only concern making sure that Peter is well taken care of. “I’m thinking five or six stitches for this, not too bad.”

Peter snorts humorlessly, then curses as Tony pours antiseptic over the wound.

Peter keeps up a rambling narration of his day as Tony works, trying to distract himself. Tony responds between sutures as he threads the needle again.

He’s in the middle of the third stitch when Peter tenses half a second before—

“Daddy?”

It speaks to how often Tony has done this that he knows not to flinch. Instead he lets go of the needle and carefully pulls his hands away from Peter’s wound.

“What are doing up, little miss? It’s late.”

Morgan eyes Peter warily. She can’t see Peter’s back from her vantage point, but that also means Peter’s staring her straight in the face and can’t really move.

“I woke up and can’t fall back asleep without a story.”

“Go ask Mommy, baby, I have to help Peter with something,” Tony says, his voice soft. His puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder, warm and gentle, to assure him that he won’t leave him.

Morgan pouts. “But you always read me my story.”

“I know, but I can’t right now, ok? I’ll come up in a little bit to check on you,” Tony assures her again. Under other circumstances, Peter is sure Tony would round the island and pick her up and kiss her cheek to soften the blow, but his hands are almost certainly bloody right now, and he doesn’t want to scare her.

“But,” Morgan starts again, her pout growing even more pronounced as she glares at Peter.

“Morgan,” Tony interrupts, voice firm but not angry. “Peter needs me right now. Go get your mom.”

Morgan’s face screws up as tears start gathering in her eyes, loud sobs trailing behind her as she turns and flees up the stairs.

Peter grits his teeth.

“You can go,” he murmurs.

“Nope,” Tony says, his hands steady as he continues on to the next stitch. “Bleeding trumps crying.”

“What beats bleeding?”

“Dying.”

“Does that mean crying beats dying?” Peter asks, inhaling sharply as the thread was pulled tight.

“No.”

“This game doesn’t make sense.”

“Peter,” Tony warns in that dad voice that he perfected during the Snap. Peter glances back at him and sees his tight jaw, the way his brow wrinkles. He hates the thought of not being able to comfort his crying daughter as much as the thought of leaving Peter bleeding in his kitchen.

Peter wonders for the first time if this is hard for him too. Morgan isn’t used to having a sibling, and neither is Peter, but Tony has never been a parent to two living children before. And the way he loves is so devoted, so all consuming, Peter imagines that it’s hard having to prioritize needs when Tony’s instinct is to fix everything.

“You can go, Tony,” Peter says again.

Tony sighs, setting the suture tools down and looking up at Peter with a tired smile.

“She has to learn to share me sometime, Pete. Because if I have any say in the matter—and I do—you’re not going away any time soon.”

Peter avoids his eyes, feeling suddenly horribly guilty. If he was Morgan, and his brother-but-not-really came back from the dead, he isn’t sure how much he would like him either.

There’s quiet for a few more minutes as Tony finishes bandaging his back, then he rounds to the other side of the island, raising Peter’s chin with a finger.

“We’re all adjusting, Pete, but that doesn’t mean things were better before. I would rather have Morgan be a little jealous than go back to... missing you. Any day. Not even a question, kid.”

Peter nods jerkily.

Tony eyes him for another moment, then nods. “Alright, my love. Pajamas for you, I’ll clean up here.”

Peter stands, shaking his head. He wants to hoard Tony to himself, wants to ask for an episode of Star Trek to help him sleep, wants Tony to stay and stroke his hair and hum under his breath when he thinks Peter’s asleep.

But they’re all adjusting. And if Morgan has to share, so does Peter.

“Go check on Morgan,” Peter says. “I’ll clean up.”

He can tell Tony wants to argue out of principle, but his eyes dart to the stairs.

“Go on. Crying trumps cleaning,” Peter teases.

Tony’s face softens as he looks back at Peter. There’s so much gratitude and adoration on his face it makes Peter’s throat tighten with emotion.

“You’re a good brother, Peter,” Tony murmurs. He leans across the isle and pulls Peter’s head down so he can kiss his cheek.

Peter hums and leans into the touch. “Goodnight, Tony.”

“Night, kiddo,” Tony says, starting toward the stairs. “Don’t sleep on those stitches,” he calls over his shoulder.

Peter huffs, gathering together the soiled towels and medical supplies, moving around the kitchen like it’s his own home.

 Morgan is in a bad mood the next morning, and her wary glances towards Peter have escalated into full on glares. Pepper and Tony both notice, having a silent conversation over the breakfast table that Peter can’t really understand. They spend the rest of the morning quietly putting together puzzles and coloring, but it doesn’t stop Morgan from breaking down crying no less than three times.

Finally, after lunch, Pepper takes her upstairs for a nap, whispering to Peter, “I’m so sorry, she must be tired,” as she does.

She is a bit more pleasant when she comes back, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. She even lets Peter help her build a tower out of Legos while Pepper and Tony make dinner.

It isn’t until they settle down for a movie together that Morgan’s temper really comes out.

Peter automatically gravitates to sit next to Tony, looking forward to curling into his side and dozing on his shoulder. Morgan, who’s already sitting on Pepper’s lap, frowns and crawls over Tony to take the available spot.

Peter stops short and blinks while Tony snorts. “Alright, little monkey, calm down,” he says, tugging on Morgan’s pigtail. She smiles up at him innocently.

Pepper shakes her head at her daughters antics, then holds out her arms to Peter. “Come cuddle with me, Peter, since Morgan doesn’t want to.”

Peter smiles and plops down between her and Tony and is instantly enveloped in a one armed hug from both sides. Tony’s hand lands in his hair while Pepper tugs him against her shoulder. He sighs contentedly, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of family that surrounds him—

“No!”

Peter’s eyes fly open, jerking upright as he sees Morgan pushing herself away from her dad and standing on the couch, glowering down at Peter.

“You have your own parents,” Morgan snaps at him. “Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean you can steal mine!”

Peter’s jaw literally drops, more out of surprise than anything, but instantly a pang of hurt and grief echoes through his chest, making his breath come short. In the same second, Tony sits upright and Pepper gasps Morgan’s name.

“Morgan H. Stark, apologize to your brother,” Tony says, his voice serious and low.

“He’s not my brother!” Morgan yells, stomping her foot on the couch cushion.

Tony shoots to his feet, grabbing Morgan around the waist and hoisting her up against his shoulder.

Morgan screams, so high pitched it makes Peter’s ears fuzz out for a second. He can see Tony’s jaw twitch, but he doesn’t put her down. Peter knows that he isn’t hurting her—Tony would never, ever hurt his kids. Even in dire situations Tony is gentle with Peter and he’s certain that carries through to his daughter. But Morgan keeps screaming, tears pouring down her cheeks as Tony carries her toward the stairs.

Pepper watches looking torn, like she wants to follow, but instead she turns to Peter, reaching out and stroking his cheek with her thumb.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, I don’t know...,” She trails off. “Listen, to Tony and to me, you’re our son. Alright? Morgan’s just... not used to sharing us.”

“I know,” Peter says, his voice more hoarse than he had expected. “I know, it’s ok.”

Pepper looks at him for a moment. “Oh, sweetheart,” she sighs, kissing the top of his head. “How about some cocoa, huh?”

“Sure.”

As Pepper goes to the kitchen to get cocoa started, Peter hugs a pillow to his chest and lets his hearing tune in to what’s happening upstairs.

Morgan is still audibly crying as Tony tries to quiet her. Morgan’s bed creaks as Tony sits down.

“You don’t love me anymore,” Morgan hiccups.

“Oh, baby, you know that isn’t true. You know it isn’t.”

“You sp-spend all your time with P-Peter.”

“Momo, I’m with you every day. Peter only comes for four days a month and even then we all play together. Think maybe you’re being a bit dramatic?” Classic Tony. He doesn’t sugarcoat, just tells the truth in his uniquely humorous way.

“No,” Morgan whimpers.

“Morgan,” he hears Tony sigh. Morgan’s sobs quiet down at her dad’s soft tone. There’s the sound of shifting fabric and Peter imagines Tony settling Morgan on his knee.

“Do you remember your fourth birthday?” Tony asks.

Morgan sniffles. “Yeah.”

“What did we do?”

“We had waffles and went to the dinosaur museum and I got to open a bunch of presents,” Morgan says, perking up a little bit.

“That’s right. And I let you eat cake for dinner and I gave you as many hugs and kisses as you wanted,” Tony adds, and Peter can hear the smile in his voice. He hugs the pillow a little closer to his chest.

“Do you know why I did that?” Tony asks.

“Because you love me,” Morgan reluctantly admits.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I love you so, so much.” More shifting, the soft sound of a kiss. “Now, do you remember a few weeks before that, when we went to Peter’s tree and we brought him cake and Legos and we played Spider-Man all day?”

Peter knows about his tree. One that Tony had planted in his honor after the Snap, on the edge of the lake. Tony had taken him there a couple weeks after he was released from the hospital. They’d sat there talking for hours and Tony had held him like he hadn’t wanted to let him go.

“You cried,” Morgan remembers and Peter squeezes his eyes closed.

Tony’s voice is thick when he answers. “Yeah, I did. Do you know why?”

“Because you love him,” Morgan mutters, her voice sullen again.

“Because I love him,” Tony agrees. “And I loved him even when he wasn’t there. I loved him when you were born, and when you said your first word, and two weeks ago when you hurt your ankle and I gave you piggyback rides all day. Does that mean I didn’t love you then?”

Morgan sniffs again. “I don’t know.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Tony assures her. “Because guess what.”

“What?”

“I love you when I’m helping Peter with his homework. And when we’re watching movies after you’ve gone to bed or working in the lab. You don’t just stop loving something when you can’t see it anymore, baby. When you love something as much as I love you, you love it forever. Nothing will change that.”

Morgan’s little voice is cautiously hopeful as she asks, “Really?”

“Really. The only thing that’s changed is that Peter’s here now, so we don’t have to be sad anymore.”

“I didn’t like it when you cried,” Morgan confesses. “It made me want to cry too.”

Tony’s next breath shudders as he exhales. “Well, we don’t have to cry anymore, either of us. Cause I’ve got you, and Mom, and Peter, and I’m really, really happy.”

“Then I’m happy too,” Morgan says with all the innocence of a child. There’s the sound of another kiss and happy giggles.

“Good. But you’ve still got apologize to Peter, little miss. You hurt his feelings.”

“Ok,” she chirps easily. The floor creaks as if Tony just stood up.

“I love you both with my whole heart, Morgan,” Tony says quietly with a sincerity that’s probably lost on such a little kid, but it makes Peter’s eyes prick with tears.

There’s a pause and then, “You can’t love us both with your whole heart, Daddy. That doesn’t make sense. You can love us with half your heart.”

“Well, maybe dads have extra hearts, huh?” Tony teases, his footsteps coming down the hall. “One for you and one for Peter.”

“Nuh-uh,” Morgan cries.

“Mm-hmm. And one for Mom and then another one for Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy and cheeseburgers.”

Morgan laughs, then pauses. “Really?”

Tony is assuring her that he’s telling the truth as they come down the stairs, Morgan laughing with her head on her dad’s shoulder.

“Alright, baby girl,” Tony says, making eye contact with Peter and coming toward him. “Do you have something to say to your big brother?”

Morgan nods as Tony sets her down in front of Peter. He retreats toward the kitchen, hovering where he can still hear.

Peter stares at Morgan for a minute and she just stares back, her head tilted to one side.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says. “I was mean.”

Peter flounders for half a second, not used to such candor. “Um, I forgive you.”

“Can you teach me how to climb walls?” She asks, once again catching him off guard.

Well, not really, but he can’t tell her that when she’s willingly talking to him for the first time. “... Yes,” he says. He’ll figure something out.

“Cool,” she breathes, then clambers onto the couch next to him.

Pepper and Tony come in just a moment later with cocoa, both smiling as they see their kids. Tony sits down next to Peter, putting an arm around his shoulders.

Peter leans into him, closing his eyes for a second as he savors the warmth.

Tony buries his nose in Peter’s hair and mutters, “Did you hear all that?”

Peter glances up at him, feeling guilty but Tony just chuckles. “Good, that means I don’t have to say it all again.”

Peter snorts. “Love you, too,” he whispers. “So much.”

Tony smiles, welcomes Morgan into his arms as she crawls into his lap. He kisses Peter’s temple.

“I’ve got the best family,” he sighs happily.

[recurring-polynya]

a little in love now and then, part 6/? | ao3 | ff.net |

Summary: Abarai  Renji doesn’t have a fortune, but he does appear to be in want of a  wife, at least in Lady Kuchiki’s opinion. Fortunately, Lady Kuchiki also  has a sister, and a woefully eligible one, at that. (itty bitty Hisana  Lived! AU)

Rating: T, for minor cussing

This time: The Cavalry: Renji seeks outside advice.

Older parts: | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 |

Renji pounded his fist against the doorframe. He waited. He pounded again. “KIRA!” he bellowed. “KIRA, IT’S ME, ABARAI! OPEN UP, I NEED YOU!”

Slowly, the door slid open, and the exhausted lieutenant of Squad 3 squinted at Renji with purple-shadowed eyes.

“Kira, how do noble people get married?” Renji demanded.

Izuru stared at him for a moment, taking into account the hour, the fact that Renji was dressed in his New Year’s best, and finally, the question. He rubbed at his hair and blinked, before realization penetrated his haze of sleep-deprivation. “What have you done?” he gasped, horrified.

“You look bad, buddy,” Renji observed, before he suddenly remembered the probable cause of Kira’s condition. “Aw, cripes, Kira, I’m sorry. I forgot about, you know.”

“My captain being sent to the Maggot’s Nest?” Izuru asked dryly.

Renji cringed. “Something crazy happened and I thought o’ you, and I really wasn’t thinkin’ and I’m sorry. I’ll just go.”

Kira rubbed at his face tiredly and tried to blink his eyes into focus. “You cannot just show up here and ask me how to marry a noble person and then leave again.” He managed a small smile. “Besides, if you and your captain hadn’t cracked open Aizen’s conspiracy, who knows how much worse things would be. I probably owe you one anyway.”

Renji hunched his shoulders. “I didn’t do anything, aside from trying and failing to beat up that Kurosaki kid.”

Izuru smashed a fist into Renji’s shoulder. “Whatever, meathead. The fact is, I am so sick of auditing the last forty years of squad records that digging you out of whatever horrifying situation you have enmeshed yourself in will be a delightful distraction. Let’s consider it a mutual favor.” He stepped aside and waved his hand. “Come inside and tell me whose honor you have besmirched. I’ll put on tea.”

“I haven’t besmirched anyone’s honor!” Renji excused, trailing his old school friend into his quarters. “Lady Kuchiki wants me to marry Rukia.”

Izuru almost tripped on his way into the kitchen and had to catch himself on the edge of the counter. “What?”

“Not, like, this minute. I guess she’s taken a liking to me, probably ‘cause her baby likes me, and she’s been trying to find a nice husband for Rukia, which seems like a terrible mistake, and she’s made an even worse mistake insofar as judging my suitability for this, and I’m trying to take advantage of it before she catches on.”

Izuru squinted at him. “She wants you to marry Rukia because she likes you? Not because of your decades of loyal pining and sad puppy dog eyes?”

“She doesn’t even know about that,” Renji nodded incredulously.

Izuru set the kettle on the stove. “So, let me get this straight. Back when we were in school, right after Rukia was adopted, you came up with this incredibly half-baked plan to distinguish yourself in the Gotei, impress Captain Kuchiki, defeat him in battle, and… you always refused to say the last part out loud. What was the goal, anyway? To see Rukia again? To prove to her that the only difference between you and a man born all of the wealth and advantage you can imagine is a little elbow grease? To ask for her hand in marriage?”

“Something like that,” Renji replied vaguely.

“And you’re telling me it worked?”

“I didn’t even have to fight Captain Kuchiki!” Renji exclaimed, waving his arms. “Which is good, because you weren’t there when he fought Aizen, but even with my bankai, I’m pretty sure he can still kick my ass.”

Izuru shook his head. “You are simultaneously the most blessed and cursed idiot I have ever met.”

“I know it,” Renji admitted sincerely.

“Okay, so let’s talk about what actually happened,” Izuru said, pulling out a pair of fine tea cups painted with elegant blue cranes. “Did they extend you an offer?”

“Huh?” Renji echoed. “No, nothin’ like that.”

“She just said, Mr. Abarai, you seem like a sporting fellow, would you like to marry my troublesome sister?”

“Rukia is not troublesome! And it was more like, she invited me over for dinner, and afterwards, Rukia said, ‘Oh, my sister wants to marry me off because I’m troublesome and she’s picked you’.”

“Because you seem like a chump?”

“I am absolutely a chump, but I am pretty sure Lady Kuchiki genuinely likes me.” He scratched his head. “It’s weird that a person exists who would marry Captain Kuchiki and also likes me.”

Izuru nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed. And how does Rukia feel about this?”

Renji made a face. “Well, she’s not a huge fan of it, but she didn’t shut it down, either. She’s willing to consider it.”

“Hmm,” Izuru replied with mild surprise. “And Captain Kuchiki?”

“He… doesn’t hate me,” Renji shrugged. “I’m not sure he knows what his wife is up to.”

“I see,” Izuru nodded, pouring hot water into the cups. “And what about you?”

“Me?” Renji repeated.

“Yes, Abarai, you get an opinion, too, you know.” Izuru studied his own friend carefully for a moment, before saying, “People can change a lot in forty years. You two didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

Renji’s face stiffened. “I know.”

Izuru took a cautious sip of tea. “I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re my friend and I just want to make sure you’re doing something that will make you happy.”

Renji huffed. “Look, I said Rukia wasn’t quite on board yet, and I ain’t interested in marrying anyone who ain’t interested in marrying me.”

“Granted,” Izuru nodded, waiting for him to go on.

Renji stared at his teacup as he spun it in his hands. “I blew it. Back then. I’m not… I can’t…” He let out a frustrated breath. “Of course I want to get to know her again. I’m sure some things have changed. But I can’t screw this up again. If this is my shot, I gotta take it.”

Izuru knew how much it embarrassed Renji to admit things like this. He felt very grateful that, despite the rocks their friendship had hit over the years, Abarai still trusted him this much. He cleared his throat. “Good. I have the landscape of it. You’re interested, Rukia is open. Lady Kuchiki is for it, Captain Kuchiki exists.”

Renji thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah. That sums it up pretty good.”

“So, let’s talk about the mechanics, which is why I suspect you’ve come to me. In general, it is your prerogative, as the guy, to propose. Very noble families, like the Kuchiki, might extend an offer of Rukia’s hand if they were trying to create an alliance or propose a deal with another family. It’s also possible that could happen if someone performed some great service to the family-- they very well could have offered her to that Kurosaki boy that stormed the Seireitei for her, for example.”

Renji’s shoulders went a little stiff, and Izuru realized he had hit a nerve. Maybe not quite a nerve. A soft spot. “He’s not even dead,” Renji pointed out, not sounding very confident that this was an adequate objection.

“Right, and he’s got no status in Soul Society at all, and also, they didn’t,” Izuru reassured him. “My point is, we should expect that the ball is in your court, at this point. There are two halves to this: proposing to Rukia and getting her Clan Head’s approval. Now, if you were rich and powerful enough, and didn’t care about Rukia’s feelings, you could skip her entirely, and go straight to Captain Kuchiki. Rukia would still have to agree, but it would be mostly on her family to get her buy in.”

“I don’t want that,” Renji mumbled.

“Exactly. Plus, you’re broke. You are still broke, right? If you’re not, you owe me 400 kan for your bar tab on Shuuhei’s birthday.”

“You mean when I had to leave early to drag Shuuhei home because he was blasted?”

“It was 600, but I’m giving you the good friend discount.”

Renji made a troubled face. “I am still broke, but I can pay you back.”

Izuru waved a hand. “Forget it, that wasn’t the point. The point is, and I cannot believe I am going to say this, but unless you plan on winning the lottery or passing your captain’s exam in the next few weeks, you are going to need to charm your way into this family. Lady Kuchiki likes you, but I am going to go out on a limb and say that it’s Rukia’s opinion of you that’s ultimately going to sway her, no?”

Renji nodded curtly. “That was my impression.”

“Then all of this is really a lot less complicated than you think. Spend some time with Rukia. See if she’s still the person you remember. Try to stay on Lord and Lady Kuchiki’s good side. Don’t jump the gun. If it’s meant to be, she should be so thrilled by the time you ask, she can help you wrangle the proper approvals from her sister and brother-in-law.”

Renji sighed, and took a long sip of tea. “What kinda odds you think I’ve got?”

Izuru gave a little shrug. “I’m frankly dumbfounded you’ve gotten this far. We are outside of the range of calculable probabilities.”

Renji fidgeted with the sleeve of his haori. “Do you really think… that Rukia might…”

Izuru settled his chin on one hand. “Abarai, in the time that I saw the two of you together, I found you and Rukia to have the most incomprehensible rapport I have ever seen between two people. I found her to be utterly impenetrable and you to be…” He trailed off. “Look, we’re outside of my area of expertise. I hope I was helpful on the nuts and bolts stuff.”

Renji’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah! Yeah, thanks, Kira. You were super helpful. I’ll get outta here now, so you can get some sleep, I’m sorry to--”

“Hey!” Izuru interrupted him. “I didn’t tell you to leave. I just said we were out of my depth. Do you wanna call Momo? I’m pretty sure she hasn’t slept in a month, either.”

“Er…” Renji frowned. “Are you really sure--?”

Izuru was already on the phone. “Hey, Hinamori! How’s the endless cycle of self-recrimination going? Oh, you’re stress-baking again? Perfect. You want to get overly invested in Abarai’s personal life with me? Yeah, come over as soon as they’re done. No, you’re going to have to wait and hear him explain it, you would never believe me if I tried to tell you. Okay, great!” Izuru flipped his phone shut. “Momo’s in. She’ll be here in twenty minutes with dorayaki.” He paused. “You’re not imposing. This is good for us. Let us have this.”

“Ah,” said Renji. “Did you say dorayaki?”

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Off Day: Three

It was only a little after six and Bucky had changed his shirt four times. It felt like he’d touched a live wire and he couldn’t sit still. You weren’t even coming to his house and he’d still changed the sheets, did the dishes and made sure the floors were swept. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time. 

Not even when he and Char first started dancing around each other. Hell. He’d met her still covered in grease and sweat from days in the shop. They’d had sex like that. He didn’t care. He was hardly ever sober when he met with her. He knew he wasn’t the only person Char was sleeping with. The girl had an eye for bikers, bad boys, and people you didn’t want to take home to your mom. Not that he cared. The only reason Char had met his mom was that his mom had walked in on them once. Once. His Ma got a lot better about calling after that. 

As he watched the time tick down he eyed the bottle on the counter for a second before smacking the back of his hand. Alcohol had gotten him into this mess and it probably wouldn’t be what was going to get him out of it. He didn’t think he could make you fall in love with him. He really didn’t. He just. He wanted to- well. To be be honest, he didn’t know what he wanted. You, he guessed. He wanted you. In any way he could have you. Even if it meant as a friend. Even if it meant this is all he got. 

By the time he left the house, several pep talks and several more shirt changes later, he walked down the steps. He loped to his bike and started it, winding his way to the club. It’s 7:15pm and it’s early. Bucky is never early, but it’ll give him time to scope the place out. Threaten Sam and Tony with bodily harm if they ride your ass about anything and maybe, just maybe, keep himself from sweeping a hole in his floor. In front, he saw Char’s car and groaned internally. He considered taking a lap around the block but thought better of it. Maybe, just maybe, if he could have it out with her before you got there, he’d be able to avoid her trying to fight you or something. He knew Char wasn’t about that life. He knew the woman would die if she ever broke a nail. What he didn’t know was you. But his Ma had always told him still waters ran deep. And he knew how you grew up. He didn’t doubt you could hold your own if you needed to. He’d just prefer you not have to.

He ducked in through the side door, going to talk to Natasha before he talked to the others. Everyone assumed he and Steve ran the show and they were dead fucking wrong. Nat had her finger on the pulse and coordinated all their shit. Like it was nothing. She knew everyone. He wanted to know what she knew. If she knew anything about how sick Kaitlyn really was. How long you might be in town. 

“Barnes you fucking asshole,” an all too familiar voice shrilled at him.

“Like a fucking tea kettle,” he muttered, turning. “Sugar,” he said louder, “As much as I’d love to hear about how mad you are at me for last night, just know. I don’t care.”

She reeled back to slap him and Bucky caught her wrist easily, “That’s a little unnecessary, given you being up Barton’s ass for the last week.”

“Fuck you,” she gasped, “Are you really just dragging that trash in here to make me jealous?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Bucky snorted, “I’ve known Y/N a long fucking time. I’m just catching up with an old friend.”

“An old friend you want to fuck,” she hissed.

“So what if I do?” he challenged, “It’s not like you’re not trying to get it in with like three of the drug dealers in town when you’re not fucking me.”

“Who said?” she pouted.

“Who hasn’t is a shorter list.”

“Aww, Buckaroo,” she said, instantly coquettish and batting her eyes when she realized that shouting wasn’t getting her her way, “You know you’re the only one that matters.”

Bucky cringed internally at the infantilization of his nickname, “Look, Char. She’s coming to get a drink. We’re going to talk. In private. And you’re going to reign in your crazy bitch syndrome until she leaves.”

Char makes a sound reminiscent of a cat being strangled and stomps her foot before flouncing out of the backroom and slamming the front door behind her.

“Hey Buckaroo,” Sam drawled, leaning against the door frame, “Tell me this new one at least a decent human being?”

Bucky sighed, “She’s... She’s Y/N,” he says, “she’s fucking soft. But... well I guess if it tells you anything, Nat likes her.” Bucky feels like a heel not being able to put you into words but he knows Sam’s heard everything he needs to know when the other man nods tacit approval. 

“So,” the other man said, “You gonna get it in tonight?”

“Shit. I’ll be thrilled if she fucking shows up. After all the shit I pulled last time I saw her I really. Really don’t deserve it.”

“That bad huh?” 

Bucky nods, “I just. It’d take hours to explain just, I mean. I’ve known her since Kindergarten. And last time I saw her. Well. I wasn’t at my best.”

“How drunk were you?”

“I asked her to prom. Then forgot and went with Steve to a rally.”

Sam’s mouth fell open and he gaped at Bucky for a second, “Did she hit you? Because I woulda hit you.”

“I wish she would have,” Bucky said rubbing the back of his neck. 

Sam whistled, “Well, if she ain’t hit you, I might. Prom. Really?”

“She’s pretty okay? She’s really pretty and I couldn’t talk to her sober!”

“Fucking marshmallow guts man,” Sam said shaking his head. 

Bucky shrugged. He didn’t mind being soft for you. Not like he had when he was young. “Do me a favor?” Bucky said quietly.

“What’s up?” Sam said stretching.

 “Y/N doesn’t really drink,” he explained, “her dad was the cause of a pretty gnarly wreck a few years ago.”

“Oh shit,” Sam said, “The wreck? The one with Rumlow’s crew where they lost all those drugs?”

Bucky nodded grimly and Sam hissed, “So don’t ride her ass about ordering not alcohol. Got it.”

“Thanks, man.”

“I’m not the asshole here, Barnes.”

The asshole in question flipped his friend off casually and strolled through the hallway into the main room of the bar. Natasha was already back there serving Steve the first of his after-work shots.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Steve said, raising his shot in toast before taking it. “Did you get liquored up first or is that going to happen when she shows up?”

“Fuck you,” he said taking his usual stool, “I promised I wouldn’t drink. Not while she’s here anyway.”

“Smart move,” Nat said, “Might keep Kaity from shooting you next time she sees you.”

“Nat-” Bucky said accusingly.

“I ain’t say shit,” Nat explained, “But Y/N did. Not that I blame her after you walked into her shop and started all this shit yesterday.”

Bucky groaned and Nat just shrugged, “I mean. They live together. Kaity was gonna notice. Kaity also happens to be a damn good shot. With like 6 months to live. So. Behave.”

Bucky froze, “Is that really all she has?”

Nat nodded and sighed, “Kaity told me Y/N’s hopeful. That she and her parents found an experimental trial that might help but... Kaity. Well. She’s not so sure. She doesn’t even think she has 6 months to be honest.”

Bucky felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He didn’t even care that Kaity had threatened to shoot him. He didn’t want you to go through that. He didn’t want you to leave. 

“Sorry, Buck,” Natasha said, passing him a glass of cherry coke and a straw. 

“How’s Y/N handling it?” Bucky said. 

Nat half shrugged, “As well as anyone can. I mean, Kaity’s her best friend. Kaity’s parents practically raised her. Kaity says she puts on a brave face, you know. Runs the shop. She helps her mom out by making sure the cooking and cleaning are done. But, she’s scared. Depressed I guess. Mostly cause she’s back here. Kaity told me she never planned on coming back. Couldn’t deal with all her parent's old drug buddies, you know?”

Bucky winced, nodding. It was all ancient history, but it wasn’t. This wasn’t a small town really, but it was. The community had a long memory for gossip and your parents had caused a lot of it in their heyday. Had died owing money all over the place. Now that he was older and knew the kind of damage the wrong kind of reputation could really do, he had a newfound appreciation for your talent to go largely unnoticed.

If Steve hadn’t nudged him he wouldn’t have even noticed you coming that way. You move that quietly. Bucky half turns and his heart skips a beat. You’re not wearing makeup but you did change clothes. Jeans and a soft, warm sweater. Some black boots. You look more like you’re about to go apple picking than get a drink at a biker bar, but then. Somehow, it fits. You’re unapologetically yourself. 

“Damn girl,” Nat said smiling, grabbing your hand, “You look good. I like that hair color on you.”

You smile a little, “Hey Nat,” you say, “Thanks. Kaity told me to tell you to keep me out of trouble.” You roll your eyes fondly and Nat snorts, handing you a glass of coke, “Anything for Kaity.”

You greet Steve and Bucky both with a quiet hello and Steve makes himself scarce shortly after a few minutes of small talk. 

“So,” Bucky said clearing his throat, “How’s things? How was the world outside Madison county?”

“Not as big as everyone always said it was,” you say, taking a sip of your soda. 

“How’s that?” Bucky asked. 

“It didn’t really matter where I went, it was the same old shit,” you tell him, “I guess you can take the girl out of Madison but you can’t take the Madison out of the girl.”

Bucky snorts, “I don’t think that’s true. You did good, kid. Not got six kids and a boyfriend in jail. Got a cute cat... Where’d you leave the little shit anyway?”

“She’s keeping Kaity company while I’m out,” you answer. 

Before Bucky can say anything, Clint hurls himself into the chair next to your and throws his arm around your shoulder, “Hey, Y/N!” he said, in that loud overly friendly way drunk people have right before they get annoying. “Glad you’re back home. Coming in to class up the joint? Or are you here to take Bucky for a test drive.”

You blush and awkwardly shrug out from under his arm, feeling the first signs of impending embarrassment in the pit of your stomach. Some people could sense a storm. You could sense humiliation. Who knew?

“Just- I,” Clint is smirking at you. You know he’s probably just trashed. But he has that same look on his face as the stupid meatheads in middle school that would trap you in the lunchroom and say, “Hey, my friend really likes you,” before bursting into laughter. You don’t even know why you can’t say anything. You just can’t

“Barton,” Natasha said warningly, “It’s 8pm and I WILL cut you off.”

“Aww, Tasha-” Clint protested.

“And I don’t mean booze.”

“Yes ma’am,” Clint said sitting up in his chair, smirk falling off his face.

Nat catches your eye and winks, making you smile a little and Bucky reaches around you to smack Clint in the back of the head, “Don’t be a shit heel,” Bucky said.

“Hey!” Clint protested, “After all the time you spent spouting poetry about how much you wanted to get her on your dick, I just wanted to know.”

You feel your cheeks heat and you push your glass away, “I- I should go,” you murmur, “Kaity wasn’t feeling well when I left.” It’s a lame excuse and you know it but people are laughing and you want to fall through the floor. Some shit, you think, doesn’t change. All he wanted was in my pants. I shoulda known better. Stupid. I’m so fucking stupid. 

You drop a couple dollars on the counter and hop off your stool, pulling your phone out to call Kaity. 

“You’re cut off,” Nat hisses at Clint across the bar as she watches Bucky hurry after you.

“Aww, Tasha!”

Bucky catches up to you just before your jeep and catches your arm. “Y/N,” he pleaded, “Please wait. It’s not. It’s not like that.”

You take a deep breath, “Bucky,” you say slowly, angry, hurt tears starting to fall, “Just  leave me alone, okay? High school is over. We’re twenty fucking five. You have a car. You can stop scheming to get girls to fuck you with your friends. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see me naked in high school. I’m sure I wasn’t that high on your list but honestly. Grow up.”

Tears are falling thick and fast down your cheeks and your voice is trembling but, unlike the crying fits Char threw for show, your voice never raised. You wrenched your arm out of his grip and he let go, taking a step back. 

“Doll,” he said gently, “I just- I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. It felt like a knife in his heart seeing you cry. You wipe tears away on your hand and turn to open the car door. “When I realized who you were,” he murmured, “You were all I could think about-” You pause, listening but Bucky doesn’t get a chance to finish. 

Boots crunching on gravel make him turn and Char, in all her blonde, biker barbie glory is striding towards them, a triumphant smirk on her face. 

“Well,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, “I see this is going well.”

“Char,” Bucky said, “Can you give us a minute?” He can feel his teeth grinding. He wants to tell her to fuck off but something tells him to tread lightly. 

“No I really can’t,” she said, proffering a plastic bag, “Not when we have a baby to plan for.” 

Bucky looks down and his heart drops somewhere to the region of his feet. It’s a positive pregnancy test alright. 

“Have fun with that Bucky,” you say, getting in your jeep and slamming the door. Bucky can’t even turn to look at you, all he can do is look up at Char, “You know, Char,” he said slowly, “Nat was right.”

“About what, Buckaroo?” she said shoving the bag back into her purse and tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“You’re a goddamn tragedy,” he sighed, turning to walk back into the bar and order several drinks, leaving her standing under the streetlight pouting.

[literarytrashcollection]

The New Recruit (3/?)

AN: Some major plot reveals in this one. Also, a touch of Brand New Winter Soldier. Let me know what y’all think of it!

I felt sick sitting in front of the same people in the same conference room. Natasha looked almost smug as I wrung my hands anxiously.

“So, why are we here again?” Tony asked, tossing a stress ball in the air and catching it again. The sound of the soft rubber slapping against his palm started getting annoying after the twenty-seventh catch.

“Y/N has something that she would like to share with the group.” Bucky announced, his face split in half with the Cheshire cat’s smile. I wanted to punch him then and there more than I ever had before. How dare he act like a child, getting another in trouble?

“Does this have anything to do with the information you gave us when we first interviewed you?” Steve asked, bouncing a pen on a notepad in front of him. Everyone’s little tics were going to drive me insane. I wanted to make them all hold still. I wished I could suck all of the sound out of the room.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice caught around the lump in my throat. I cleared my throat, once, twice, three times before I finally felt brave enough to speak again. “I never technically lied to any of you.” I started out. “It was more an omission of truth.”

Tony sat forward a little, his face sinking from the bored look into a more serious one. Everyone seemed to be staring at me with some level of distrust or anger, like predators surrounding prey. The kindest set of eyes were Thor’s. He sat in his chair, sprawled back with hands folded over his chest, lips turned up in a slight smile.

“I was born in the late 1870’s.” I blurted after a long time. “December 7th, 1876.”

If Natasha was any more smug, she would have shoved out of her chair and yelled “A-ha!” She didn’t though, thankfully. No one around the table said anything for a long time, each analyzing me with varying levels of distrust, interest and ridicule.

Finally, after centuries of waiting, “So, you’re older than the Cap and Tin-Man put together?” Sam asked, fingers drumming on the table as he did the math. “Maybe not the number of years they’ve been on this Earth, but their physical age? Actually, no, you are older than all of their years put together.”

I laughed a little, a hysterical burst of crazed laughing that ended as abruptly as it started. “Something like that, yeah.” I nodded. I could feel sweat dripping through my scalp and pooling in my pits. My hands were slick with it. I wanted nothing more than a long shower. It had been decades since I had admitted my true age. I was comfortable without acknowledging my age. This was foreign, a sickly feeling that left me feeling hollow and threadbare.

“You’re 143 years old?” Wanda asked, voice tinged with almost awe that I quickly dismissed as her accent.

I nodded again, cringing a little at the number. “I’ve stayed in the shadows. Maintained the opposite of a notable human life. Unless you count the time I spent fighting during World War Two.”

“You told us that HYDRA killed your family,” Steve interjected, voice clipped with barely contained anger. He’d been asking these questions for how long now?

“They did. My last remaining relatives, grand-nieces and grand-nephews who knew me as this eccentric aunt who traveled around a lot.” I met his eyes without flinching. I remembered Cap as the leader of the Howlies. The Avengers were just the upgrade. The modernized version. Same war, different year.

He chewed the inside of his lip and gave me a curt nod. “You destroyed… massive weapons depots. Sometimes we’d be riding up just as you dispatched the last soldier.”

“And I always gave you all of the credit.”

“Why?”

“I never wanted to be another Captain America. If I gave you the credit, then at least the destruction was believable and I could remain safely out of anyone’s cross hairs.”

“SHIELD knew about you, back then at least.” He countered. “What’s to say they haven’t still been monitoring you?”

I flicked a glance over at Natasha. “She’d have blown the whistle the second I walked in.”

Natasha’s face fell slightly. “I’ve read files on you, from Cap’s era. They made it seem like you died sometime in the late sixties.”

“Y/N Y/L/N died in the sixties. I could no longer use the name and have the face I had. My age just wouldn’t match up anymore. I couldn’t play it off anymore.

“So, new identity, for the second time. The first time was in the thirties, just before I got active in the war. All of them homemade, of course. I watched the technological evolution so learning it wasn’t hard, figuring out how to do that for myself wasn’t hard. I couldn’t have any paper trail that anyone could follow. That identity died in the early 2000’s. I changed back to same name from the sixties. Who’s gonna match the names up, the face, the prints, any of it? If I just keep my head down, stick to a menial job, who cares about little ol’ me?”

“Then why join the Avengers if you’re trying to stay out of the limelight?” Tony asked, giving me a nauseating feeling of déjà vu.

“There’s finally a time where my differences will be appreciated, my powers make me useful and looked up to, rather made into a science project or looked at like a freak.” I shrugged, folding my hands together in front of me.

“Why not back during the war? You would have been worshiped the way Steve was.” Bucky’s devilish smile was gone, replaced by a deep set frown and genuine interest.

I looked over at him and felt my skin start to heat up. “Because HYDRA came after me. Or they would. And what do you know? You did. I can count eight different times you were wiped and sent after me after Steve went into the ice. Not to kill, but you almost did two different times.”

Eyes around the room seemed to flick over to Bucky, my comment a reminder of the sheer lack of stability he had from all the fucking around in his head HYDRA did. Tony’s eyes lingered on him the longest, the pain in his eyes clear and deep.

“That wasn’t me,” Bucky said gently.

“I know it wasn’t. It was the Winter Soldier. He just had your face. You always looked so surprised when I told you that we had met before. As soon as I found that you were on my tail, I had to disappear. I already lived a bare life, your constant stalking just made me that much more of a ghost.”

“Did you ever get the chance to have a family of your own?” Wanda asked, voice definitely sad this time.

“No,” I met her wide eyes and saw the empathy in them. “I run cold. It’s like my body is literally frozen in time. Too cold to house human life. Too frozen to even conceive. So I keep my distance from everyone. The Winter Solider was my first partner, in the early fifties.” I said it without hesitation. Bucky’s face turned bright red and I saw Sam physically restraining himself from clapping his buddy on the shoulder.

“Y/N, listen,” Tony took a deep breath and sighed heavily. He looked tired. The fighting had aged him, made his body wary. “We knew you were lying. We wanted to see the honesty, and now we have it. We’re obviously not going to kick you out or anything. Your powers are… incredible. And terrifying. No more secrets, yeah?”

I nodded enthusiastically, my eyes continuing to roll in their sockets for a moment after I stopped. “No more secrets.”

“Good, dismissed.” He waved us all out, everyone getting up and filing out slowly. I stayed in my seat, staring out the window as I urged my heartbeat to slow.

“Lady Y/N, I believe that I might have the answer to some questions I feel you’ve been asking for many years,” Thor said gently from across the room, still lounged in his chair.

“Oh?”

“My brother, Loki, he spoke of time on Midgard during the time frame you say you were born. He told me of a woman of extraordinary power, more power than any mere mortal, and the time he spent with her. It is possible that you are the production of his time on this Earth.”

My eyes widened slightly. “You mean, I’m Loki’s daughter?”

“No,” he chuckled, face split in a smile like a loyal dog. “You’re no demi-god. But, it’s possible that he tested the mixture of some percentage of his DNA injected into yours. It’s possible he transfused some of his blood into your body and that’s what’s causing these extraordinary powers. Your lack of aging could be similar to our extended aging.”

I stared at him for a long time. “Uncle Thor?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “If that’s the title you wish to use, you may. But Loki is not your biological father.”

I shrugged. “It’s been 130 years since I’ve seen my real father. At this point, I don’t have one.”

West Berlin, 1952

I sat outside a small café, sipping the honeyed tea I’d been given as I watched passersby. I relished in my time in the cosmopolitan surrounded by war and passive-aggressive Cold War penis measuring.

I kept my sunglasses high, the scarf wrapped around my hair hid the majority of my features well. I’d long stopped fighting HYDRA, leaving the work to SHIELD and their agents. I’d moved into a tiny apartment near the trains. I only used my powers within the confines of my home.

“Y/N,” called a familiar voice, in a distinctly American accent. A rock seemed to settle in my stomach and I felt heat begin to crawl across my fingers. I ignored the call, taking another measured sip of tea. “Y/N!” The voice was closer now, memories of dark cement holding cells dredged up with the baritone sound.

I continued to ignore it, letting my eyes wander across the faces in the immediate crowd, trying to pick out a familiar one. I hadn’t made any friends since my move. I’d rarely spoken to my neighbors, the landlord, the waitress tending me. I kept my face down, my voice low. I shouldn’t have known anyone.

The man that slid into the seat next to me made my fingers literally tremble. The barely contained fire burning under my skin seemed to sky rocket from mildly uncomfortable to horribly painful. “No. No. You’re dead,” I shook my head, peering into the ice blue eyes that had once seemed so innocent, another boyish lad sent to a war that he had no business fighting.

“Do we know each other?” Bucky asked. His hair was longer now, tied neatly at the base of his skull. He wore a polished suit of black with a cream shirt beneath it. He was different, in more ways than one. The blankness in his eyes was gut-wrenching, but the glittering metal hand that folded with his flesh one on the table made me nauseous.

“I mourned you with the rest of America when you died.” I hissed.

“I think you’re mistaking me,” he murmured. “I can’t say we’ve met before. I was asked by my superiors to talk to you about a job position we think you’d be perfect for.”

I blinked at him, not that he could tell behind the sunglasses.

“We know about your powers,” he whispered, leaning across the table. “We need a woman of your strength.”

“Do you know that Steve is gone?” I asked. “Are you taking over for him as Captain America? What about the Howling Commandos?”

He barked a laugh that didn’t touch his eyes. “What are you going on about, darlin’?”

That’s when I realized what was wrong with him. Nothing touched his eyes. He’d filled out, much more than he’d been when we’d last met. Not naturally either. I’d seen how much Steve changed after the super solider serum. Bucky’s changed seemed the same. But SHIELD wouldn’t be doing testing like that anymore.

“Who do you work for?”

“A very special deep science-slash-military faction for the government.” He answered, cool as you please. “Your blood would help us create more like you, make your abilities normalized so you could flourish, instead of hide. We could also use your strength in the field.”

“Which government?” I demanded. My skin was prickling. My gut said run.

“We’re the good guys, I can assure you,” he smiled so brightly that I almost believed it. “Let me take you for a drink, we can talk about it more.”

I shook my head. “I’m not interested.” I started to stand but the glittering hand snatched my wrist. He jerked me back and I landed in his lap. A few customers around looked at us, scandalized by our display, but quickly looked away when he pressed a scorching kiss to my lips.

When he broke away, his fingers all but crushing my jaw as he held me close. “It wasn’t an option.” He snarled, voice rough like gravel beneath bare feet, the sound scraping against my nerves.

I gripped his wrist, letting my hand heat up until he released me, growling in pain. “Guess you’ll have to get me first.” I snapped and started running, all care for the people staring after me gone as the Winter Solider chased after me.

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[emberbent]

Book 1: Fire | Chapter 6: The Dragon

What little resolve Shinza had managed to muster after the test had washed away with the rain. The memory of Chief Mongkut leaving her hanging was still fresh, and each time it replayed in her mind, it made her more uneasy. In an attempt to calm herself, she’d brought a pot of jasmine tea to the covered rooftop of the little villa she’d called home for the past ten months. Cradling the hot ceramic cup in her hands, she focused on the sound of fat raindrops on stone, on dirt, on the canvas canopy above her; through the downpour, she saw the village through a gray filter, watching vendors closing up shop, adults running for cover, and children splashing in the puddles along the main path.

She had no idea what to expect when she first came here, and she was a little surprised to find she wasn’t homesick. Not for Republic City itself, anyway: she preferred the quietude of the village and the friendliness of its people, even if she couldn’t escape the smog of the mainland’s industrial endeavors. 

Nero crossed her mind often. Shinza should have written her a letter a long time ago; it would have been the least she could do, after her the shock of seeing her friend essentially dragged away. They’d never even gotten to say goodbye, and the guilt she felt for not having written to Nero was palpable. But a small part of her had been anxious to extricate herself from her life in the city, and from the people she knew, with the hope that whatever came next would lead her to what she’d always felt was missing.

Another memory that stuck to the forefront of her mind was her mother calling to her down the hallway after she’d come to say goodbye: We love you, Shinza. No matter what. She knew that, though, and she’d never questioned it. What she’d needed to hear was that they were proud of her. Would they be proud of her now that she was a firebender? Did they respect her now because she was the Avatar?

She didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. 

Taking in the fragrant steam of her tea, she took the first hot sip and rested the cup on the table, turning on the little radio in front of her and tuning in to Republic City’s main station. The signal was choppy at best, but if she pointed the antenna east, she could make out the announcer’s familiar voice: “...And if you’re tuning in just now, thank you for joining us. Republic City officials today have confirmed the identity of the new Avatar.  Supporters, devotees, and fans alike have awaited this announcement for almost three decades; after the tragic, untimely death of the child Avatar Yeong, the world rejoices at this new emergence. Officials are withholding the new Avatar’s identity in the midst of protests by The Organization, taking place in the city this week.”

A fresh wave of anxiety rolled over her, in time with a heavy sheet of rain that battered the uncovered portion of the rooftop patio. She turned the dial in search of something less troublesome and settled on the crooning of a familiar artist - famous for having gone from working at a dingy lower-ring club in Ba Sing Se to overnight sensation - who sang about the troubles of her neighborhood and her real-life addiction to opium. Shinza listened for a while, and then sang along, harmonizing in her silvery, resonant lilt, until the song came to its doleful conclusion.

“Hey,” said a voice behind her. Shinza leaped out of her seat, finding Amrit standing in the doorway, hands up in submission. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I knocked, but I don’t think you heard me over the rain.”

Shinza waved it off and gestured to the seat across from her. “It’s about time you came around. Want some tea?”

Amrit came to sit and watched as she gracefully poured him a cup. He took it with gratitude and waited for it to cool down, feeling Shinza’s eyes on him, no doubt wondering why he’d chosen this moment to come over.  

Looking deeply proud and gravely serious, he said, “You passed.”

The color drained from Shinza’s face. She set her cup down and scrubbed her hand over her mouth, taking in the news and swallowing her rising emotions. “Okay.”

“The council sent word to the Eastern Air Temple. They’ll be expecting you.”

She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Then she asked, “Why did it take so long for them to make a decision?”

Amrit took a deep breath and released it. “Chief Mongkut didn’t want to pass you at first. He thought you were too hesitant. But the rest of us vouched for you. You defend yourself well, your technical execution is flawless, and you display an exceptional understanding of the origins of fire. It took him a day or two to think about it, but he came around.”

Shinza quietly took that in and stared down at the table, as if scanning some invisible book.

“Hey. What’s on your mind?” he inquired, leaning forward. He knew her to be reserved, but in a circumstance like this, it worried him to see her simply not react. “You don’t have to keep it all in.”

“Yes, I do,” she blurted, puzzled at why she’d said it. She felt it was true, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. 

She sighed. “Okay, fine. I’m ecstatic that I passed, but I’m disappointed it wasn’t with flying colors. I’m terrified and excited at what comes next. I’m devastated because I’m going to have to leave you, and because if I move on and I learn how to airbend, then there’s no turning back. There will have been no case of mistaken identity, and I’ll have to shrug off this denial I’ve been living in. And I’ll have to face the fact that there are people who want me dead.”

Amrit took that in. He wished he had some sage advice to give, but all he could do was chew the inside of his cheek. “That’s rough, buddy,” he said in defeat.

Shinza scoffed. “Helpful.”

“Can I have this?” Amrit gestured at her hand. 

“Yeah.”

He took her hand in his, studying the taut skin of her elegant fingers and the thick scars over her knuckles. No part of her hands were unmarked. “I think you’re going to be an incredible Avatar,” he said, finally looking up and pinning her with his night-sky gaze. 

“How can you be sure?” 

“Because you care so much.”

Shinza squeezed his hand, feeling flooded with warmth. People in the city didn’t care about each other like this; no one made eye contact or spoke to anyone else unless it was to shout at them to get out of the way. In a place populated by millions of people, she hadn’t realized how alone she’d been. 

“I believe in you,” Amrit murmured, sandwiching her hand between his. “I wish you’d believe in yourself.”

She gave him a little half-smile. “I’m working on it.”

A familiar, comfortable silence fell over them; the rain stopped and the storm clouds rolled by to reveal the sun, which summoned back the fallen rain in the form of an oppressive steam.

“I didn’t know you could sing like that,” Amrit noted, trying his hand at being casual, although he couldn’t stop a coy smile from breaking over his face. He’d never forget the sound of her voice.

Shinza gave her own fond smile. “Yeah. You know, at one point, I wanted to be in a metal band.”

“I can see that.”

“Actually, that’s what I was doing just before all of this happened - performing. My friend and I were playing at this empty tea house. No one was even listening, except for one person, bless him. At the time, I thought that was what my life would amount to, but now I can’t imagine going back to such a simple time.”

Amrit nodded lazily. “No Avatar ever led a simple life.”

_________

The next morning, Shinza made her way up the cliff that overlooked the beach - the place Amrit had asked her to meet him before he saw her off to the Eastern Air Temple. The sun rose in the east, awakening the island with gentle, rosy clouds. With a small pack filled with the few belongings she’d accumulated on the island, she reached the summit, finding him waiting for her.

“Morning, sunshine,” he greeted her, handing her some water. Gratefully, she took the cup and gulped it down. The sun glinted off the clean-shaven sides of his head; the edges where his long, black hair started were sharp and perfectly symmetrical, cut into a cat-eye shape that started at the crown of his head and ended somewhere just above his neck. A gentle wind roused his ponytail. She’d never gotten over the urge to punch him for being so handsome.

“Morning. How do I look?”

Shinza gestured at herself. She wore the traditional airbender clothes the temple had sent over by courier: brown pants, the hems of which were tucked into knee-high, fur-trimmed boots; a turmeric-colored band of fabric wound around her chest, and an orange sash draped diagonally over one shoulder, held in place at the waist by a leather cord. Shinza happened to know that each piece of the outfit derived from animals had been painstakingly and reverently garnered from the bodies of already deceased creatures. Noting the fine stitching when she’d first received the clothes, she’d gushed for half an hour at the craftsmanship. The clothing suited her long, lean form, accentuating her musculature and her gentle curves.

Amrit gave her a once-over, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe she was real. “Incredible. Like an airbender.”

He approached her, furrowing his thick brows as his eyes narrowed at the crown of her head. “Did you grow?”

She grinned. “I think I’m just standing a little straighter these days. I can see the top of your head. Oh! I have something for you.”

Shinza shrugged off her backpack, untying the knot at the top and gingerly removing what looked to be a piece of wood from it. She turned it around and presented it to Amrit: it was a woodburning, displaying him in a full-body pose - the way she remembered seeing him the day of her test in all his regalia - and a three-quarter profile of him at the bottom right, donning his famous dazzling smile. The fine detail was impossibly intricate, and its likeness to him was astonishing. 

“Shinza,” he breathed. “You did this?”

“With firebending. Yes. I wanted to make you something to show my appreciation.”

“This…” he hugged the piece against his chest, careful not to warp the wood. His eyes glimmered with the suggestion of tears. “This is my favorite thing in the whole world. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Amrit,” she replied. “You helped me find my flame, and you stuck with me all the way through. Even on the very first day, when you didn’t even know me yet, you showed me more kindness and patience than I even knew was possible. I’ll always be grateful to you.”

Amrit looked at her, biting the inside of his cheek, and then stared for a few more seconds at the piece before bringing it close to his heart again. “I have something for you too,” he said. “It’s a parting gift, but also kind of an early birthday present.”

Shinza’s brow twitched as she realized how much time had passed, and that she would be twenty-eight in a few months. “Okay.”

He stuck his thumb and forefinger in his mouth, emitting a long, loud, high-pitched whistle into the sky. A few moments passed, and nothing happened. “Come on…”

Just as Shinza started to speak, a dragon came ribboning out from the clouds, small and far away at first, but rapidly gaining immense size as it approached. Speechless, she leapt back as the enormous creature finally came to land on the clifftop. If the sheer size of it was difficult to comprehend, its beauty was impossible. It locked onto Shinza immediately, pacing several feet with its snake-like body. Its talons gouged the rock beneath them with each step. Shinza could see her whole face, awe-stricken, in the reflection of the dragon’s golden eyes.

“Hi, beautiful,” she breathed. Even the small action of the beast’s breathing was startlingly loud. The air around them rippled with heat. It inched closer, slowly enough not to scare Shinza, who, after a moment, realized it was asking to be touched.

She carefully outstretched her hand, planting her palm between the dragon’s eyes. On a whim, she knew, it could exhale a devastating blaze of fire. The creature blinked slowly.

Shinza turned carefully to Amrit. “You got me a dragon?”

“Well, she’s not a pet,” he answered. “More like a friend. I’ve been working with her since she hatched, so she’s tame. She’ll take you wherever you need to go. Just know that dragons move on their own time.”

“What’s her name?” Shinza murmured, entranced by the iridescent scarlet scales that adorned the dragon’s skin.

“I don’t know,” Amrit replied. “She hasn’t told me. Why don’t you try asking her?”

She did. The dragon inched even closer, placing one prehensile whisker in the center of Shinza’s forehead. Immediately, she understood the beast’s name and felt a sense of warmth and love. 

“Xia,” Shinza translated breathlessly. “Her name is Xia. Because she loves the pink clouds of sunrise.”

Xia encircled the two of them and constricted herself so that Amrit and Shinza were forced to stand closer to each other.

“I hope she reminds you of your heritage,” he said. “And the origin of firebending.” And I hope she reminds you of me, he thought.

Shinza slid her arms around him in a fierce embrace, finding herself ensnared in his own strong grip. Each time she squeezed him tighter, he squeezed back all the more fervently. 

“Hey,” she whispered. “Are you crying?”

“Yeah, fuck off,” he sniffed. 

Shinza pulled away just enough to wipe the tears off his cinnamon skin. “I miss you already. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“We’ll see each other again,” he promised. Then he released her with reluctance. “Good luck. And be careful.”

Xia nudged Shinza’s shoulder with her snout. She climbed onto Xia’s back, hooking her feet just below the elegant, fleshy spikes that shrouded the dragon’s ears. Her heart raced as she suddenly realized she’d be bulleting through the air, gripping Xia for her life, in a matter of seconds. “Be gentle,” she implored her new friend, who seemed to understand perfectly. The dragon took a couple easy steps back and then started at a smooth, loping gait before hurtling off the cliff, catching the wind and making one generous loop back around for momentum before rocketing off toward the sun.

Shinza closed her eyes until the movement evened out, too stricken by exhilaration to even scream. Then she chanced a careful glance behind her, finding Amrit was bowing to them as they disappeared into the clouds.

[borderlandscast]

btb: leave no vault unturned (epilogue) preview, part six

here’s the next preview! not a snippet, but a proper scene this time; this one is considered a big spoiler but i’m particularly proud of how this one turned out. it was also foreshadowed ages ago in a few different ways!

this one takes place before rythian and ravs start dating, but several months after the blackrock departs pandora. zylus finally gets the reunions he deserves. daltos goes with him, because why not?

--

The scenery is off-putting, all concrete and boring colours that Daltos wants the hideous sky to not be the colour of lifeless gruel; Pandora’s had been so blue, vast and endless. Here, it’s hardly anything to look up to.

He escorts Zylus through the partly empty streets. Uniformed children on their way home from school loiter on corners, kicking cans and chattering like noisy birds. They flee when they see Daltos and Zylus. Cars hum past, disturbing puddles of rainwater. Daltos is forced to backtrack after he mistakes the house number for the one across the street.

Zylus shifts where he stands on the doormat. He lifts a hand to knock, his expression poker-faced. If he dissociates again, Daltos is going to pinch him on the butt. He hesitates.

Quick as a flash, Daltos knocks for him, drawing back. Zylus shoots him a look of pure shock. The numerous heavy locks clunk before a person answers the door.

She’s a stout woman, dressed in a pale brown work shirt, practical trousers and combat boots. Black dogtags hang off a silver chain necklace. The shade of her short hair matches Zylus’, an everyday brown. Except, hers has streaks of grey already showing. Daltos has seen her before, but where?

Her lined face stares up at the two people standing on her welcome mat, gaze flicking between the two of them, making the initial, lightning assessment of whether or not they’re salespeople, friends, strangers or– she shrieks. Her scream ricochets up and down the street like glass breaking.

Daltos recovers from almost drawing a gun, turning his reaction into tucking his hands into his pockets. Zylus isn’t so practiced at suppressing his own reaction, flinching.

She calms herself, her hand clutching the black dogtags around her neck, scarred knuckles whitening to the bone.

“Mom, I’m home,” Zylus mumbles. She throws her arms around him, practically sobbing. Zylus is already a mess as well.

Feeling awkward as hell for being present, Daltos moves to leave, his mission accomplished. Zylus’ hand darts out, grabbing his arm by the elbow. Daltos nearly falls on his ass; Zylus’ iron grip is shaking, and his mother doesn’t notice. Daltos hastily retraces his steps. Only then does Zylus let go of him like he’d never grabbed him.

She lets go of Zylus, patting his cheek, inspecting him from head to toe, mumbling observations to herself that sound like nonsense to onlookers, save to the two people in her presence. Someone next door pulls their curtains shut.

“You’ve grown so much, goodness, you need a haircut, you haven’t been eating enough vitamins– what happened to your eye?” Zylus has no answer for her, looking at the welcome mat like it might enlarge and carry him away from her sharp, inquisitive, tender (and still teary) gaze. “Come in.” She beckons. Zylus and Daltos step into her home. She closes and locks the door.

The house is blessedly warm. There’s two levels to the house. She leads the two inside to a sitting room. Zylus takes a seat, as with Daltos. The chairs have high backs. Daltos ends up sitting on the edge of his, while Zylus settles right into them. Zylus has mostly stopped crying, still sniffling every few seconds.

She brings coffee, juice, water, tea and far too many biscuits, heaped on two plates. A box of tissues separates the cups. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” She says, talking to the two of them at the same time. The tray gets placed onto a rounded table. She sits right next to Zylus, taking one of Zylus’ hands in both her own. Her hands are tiny, compared to his.

Zylus takes one tissue, dabbing at his eyes. He tucks it into his shirt pocket. Daltos watches the two. She’s family; her hair is exactly like Zylus’, the tiniest bit curly where least expected. Zylus has the same nose, mouth and expressions. The rest of him are someone else’s.

“You must be Daltos,” She observes, clearly sensing that Zylus isn’t in any condition to speak at the moment. She presses a cup of tea into his hands. Zylus drinks.

“Yes, ma’am,” Daltos starts, with as much respect as he can force into his tone without sounding wooden, and promptly wants to shoot himself. “I apologise, I didn’t mean any offense in referring to you so formally.”

She watches him for a few seconds, her expression clearly trying to work out if he means what he says, or is simply trying to offend her in the quickest way possible.

Zylus saves him, having sipped half of his tea. He mumbles, “Daltos, this is Zylina, my mother. Mom, this is Daltos. You two met before via ECHO. Remember?”

Zylina gasps. “Oh, it is him! I didn’t recognise him either. You two boys have grown so much.” Sadness fills her tone, though her expression turns coy. “I remember our first conversation.”

Daltos smirks. “So do I.” He gives Zylus a look, silently thanking him for helping. Zylus stares hard at his tea.

“Zylus, I asked you if you paid Daltos money to date you,” Zylina fondly recalls. “It was a few months after he finally confessed to you.” She tuts. “He didn’t tell me he was dating you immediately. Naughty.”

“I remember responding, ‘what makes you think he’s paying me with money?’” Zylina and Daltos share a fond laugh. Zylus only goes a mild shade of pink this time, giving the two a half-hearted glare. He puts down the empty cup of tea.

“Zylus, where have you been?” Zylina inspects his hands. She looks into his eyes.

Zylus does not look at Daltos as he starts to describe the events that led him and Daltos to live on Pandora. Daltos notices he skims over the racy parts, the argument they had during the thunderstorm, and all the assorted, awkward bits about their muddled relationship.

Two hours and several cups of tea later, Zylus is done. Zylina had listened without asking a single question. She hadn’t hidden her reactions either. Daltos only stepped in to provide clarification, and explain his side of events.

“How long are you two staying?” Zylina rises, dusting off her lap. “There’s only one guest room, but I hope you two are fine with sharing.” She’s making the assumption that they’re still together, which is half-right, but also, half-wrong.

Daltos and Zylus give each other covert glances as she starts collecting empty cups, piling them onto the tray. She leaves the leftover biscuits for them.

“If you don’t mind, I can take the couch, or go back to the frigate,” Daltos carefully offers. Zylus opens his mouth to argue; Daltos kicks him in the shin while her back is turned. Zylus winces.

Zylina whirls, cups clinking against one another. “Aren’t you two still…?”

“Yes,” Zylus says.

“No,” Daltos says, at the same time. The two shoot each other a look of surprise, and one of ‘didn’t we talk about this?’. Mild panic might have reared its head, briefly.

“What’s the term I saw in the paper the other day, that might be applicable to this?” Zylina wears an expression of utmost concentration. She perks up, declaring in a clear and triumphant tone, “‘Fuck buddies’, is that right?”

Zylus chokes back a horrified, embarrassed sound that could have been laughter. Daltos keeps a poker face as he leans forward. “You’ve hit the nail on the head. We’re still figuring how it’s going to work, with everything so far.”

“Daltos, mom doesn’t need to know everything–“ Zylus is keenly aware that it sounds like he’s trying to hide the issue from her, and snaps his mouth shut.

“Zylus, I’m your mother, and I’ve been a military nurse for over thirty years.” Zylina gives him a warm smile. “I’ll be here to listen, whenever you’re ready to tell me, no matter how terrible it is.” Zylus stares at her, on the verge of tears for the second time that day.

“Don’t overwhelm him, he’s just learned what ‘feelings’ means,” Daltos dryly says. Unimpressed, Zylus jabs him in the arm for that, being unable to resort to the usual punch. “We’re here for about three months. After that, who knows?”

She nods, accepting the information with startling calmness. “You still want that couch?” Zylina asks when she catches Zylus looking at him.

“I don’t want to impose,” Daltos firmly says.

“Not at all,” Zylina immediately counters. “I can get started on cleaning out the other room. There’s just junk in there, easy to move into the basement.” Daltos can see where Zylus gets his hospitality from.

“You don’t,” Daltos begins, then stops, the words lodging in his throat. He lowers his voice, trying again, as his gaze falls to her feet. “You don’t owe me anything for bringing back your son.” Dead silence follows. When he looks up, Zylus and Zylina sport identical expressions of shock. Daltos stands, dusting off his lap. A few stubborn crumbs stick to his gloves, but he doesn’t care; he fucked up. “I should go.” Remembering his manners, he adds, “Thank you for the tea and biscuits, it was a pleasure meeting you, Zylina.”

“I think you should wait and hear what my boy has to say,” Zylina gently says when he turns his back on the two of them. Daltos pauses. He can see Zylus’ reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall by the doorway.

Zylus is standing, his cheeks coloured. “Daltos, I–“ Colour keeps filling his cheeks. “I want you to stay.” Daltos doesn’t say anything. “I don’t mind sharing a room with you, and you won’t be offending my mom if you do.” He then adds in a small voice, like he’s asking too much of him, “Please.”

Why did Zylus have to ask?

It would have been easier to stay silent and let Daltos walk out the door. Daltos is still trying his hardest to keep his word to BebopVox about making Zylus happy, and all he has to do is stick around, because Zylus doesn’t look like he’s in misery’s clutches then.

Why can’t this be simpler?

Daltos can’t say ‘no’. He hasn’t been able to, in the sense that ever since Zylus came to his room on the frigate because he’d gotten lonely in the middle of the night and he’d missed him.

“All you had to do was ask, Zylus.” Daltos turns. He gives him a faint smile.

The sheer happiness and relief flooding Zylus’ expression elicits a gut feeling it’s the right response. Daltos doesn’t think he’s lying to himself. Deep down, he’s glad that Zylus actually asked.

Zylina claps her hands together. The tray hangs in the air beside her, floating patiently. “Right! I’ll go and change the sheets and prep some extra pillows.” She reaches for Zylus’ arm, patting it. “Why don’t you show Daltos around the house?”

“Okay, mom,” Zylus mumbles, still staring at Daltos like he still matters to him.

The house is sparsely furnished. The thing that sticks out is the amount of books in each room; there’s at least one stack present, even in the bathroom. Zylus leads Daltos through each room.

In one room, Zylus carefully picks up a frame from a table in the hallway and hands it to Daltos. The man in the photo bears a passing resemblance to Zylus. “Dad, this is Daltos. Daltos, dad.” Daltos carefully replaces the frame, and Zylus takes him to his old bedroom.

Zylina’s kept Zylus’ old bedroom in pristine condition. She’s made an effort to keep it dust free. Zylus’ room smells of wood cuttings; books line the walls. A bed too small for the present versions of the two sits between bookshelves. A window alcove is lit by a reading lamp.

Zylus perks up as he strides over to a shelf, retrieving a rabbit toy with long, floppy ears. “Mister Floppers!”

Daltos snorts before he can help himself. Zylus is examining the toy, clearly delighted by his discovery. He brings the soft toy over. The toy’s button eyes stare him down. “Daltos, this is Mister Floppers. Mister Floppers, this is Daltos.”

With as much seriousness as he possibly can, Daltos reaches out to shake the toy’s arm (clearly beloved, judging by the numerous chew marks on it). “Nice to meet you, Mister Floppers.” A pleased smile forms on Zylus’ face.

Zylus sits down on the bed. “Um.” He fiddles with Mister Flopper’s ears. “Thank you, for staying.”

Daltos sits down beside him. He leans in, whispering suggestively, “That being said, I’ll try not to initiate any hanky panky under your mom’s roof.”

“Daltos!” Scandalised, Zylus hisses, covering the toy’s ears. “Not in front of Mister Floppers!”

Laughing, Daltos moves to examine all the childhood photos of Zylus hanging on the wall. Zylus remains on the bed, cuddling his toy in his arms.

[newtothewaywardparty]

Is it Really Me You're Mad At?

Dean shifted on the white leather couch. Jack sat, content, in the center cushion, contently sipping whatever new-age tea sat on the coffee table. Dean rolled his neck uncomfortably. Kid didn’t get the concept of giving a guy some space. Last time Dean had been in this waiting room, Sam had the decency to sit as far down the sofa as possible, while Jack was planted in a nearby chair.

“You wanna get some air?” Dean hinted to Jack.

“I’m comfortable here, thank you.” The kid gave him one of his half smiles.

Damn if that wasn’t endearing as hell. Dean felt his chest twist; gritted his teeth, looked away.

The problem was, he couldn’t deny Sam anything. After this last hunt, his brother had arrived the next morning with snacks and coffee and said “Hey Dean, you know that grief counselor?” Real casual, Sammy, thought Dean. “She really helped Jack. I wanna go back.” Sam obviously thought Dean was too thick to catch his careful sideways look.

Dean grunted from his laptop, already scouring his alerts for a new case. Hunting. That’s what he needed.

Sam continued after a beat. “And I want you to come.”

Dean looked up at him. “What?” he snapped, suddenly belligerent. “Um, no thank you.”

Sam pressed on, sitting across from Dean at the research table. “You were right. I know you want me to ‘keep the faith’ or whatever, but...I’m not dealing with Mom’s...well, we’re both not dealing too well. I really think it could help. Please? For me.”

And so Dean was screwed because of course he was gonna go. Whatever bickering song-and-dance went on from there on out, it ended up with him here on the couch, babysitting the son of Satan while his brother got his kumbayayas out with a shifter therapist. Dean drummed his fingers on the couch cushion with the arm stretched out behind Jack, who startled, then relaxed. He seemed to be getting more comfortable with Dean since the hunt. Sam had been right about that one, at least for now.

Dean jiggled his leg impatiently, then stilled. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. They were here for Sam. Sam was the one who couldn’t admit it, face it, accept it.

Yeah, Dean said he needed his brother to keep the faith, for the both of them. But if Sam wanted freaking ‘catharsis’ far be it from him to keep Sam from it. He tried not to think of that thing appearing as their mother, in the next room, hugging it out. Dean wondered if she was telling Sam all the happy lies he needed to hear.

Sam emerged some time later. His eyes were a little watery but otherwise he seemed lighter, freer, happier. Mia Vallens waited in the doorway, her brown eyes wide. She raised a slim arm, inviting Dean into the office. “Are you ready, Dean?” she asked. For a woman so recently stalked by her emotionally abusive ex-lover, in Dean’s skin nonetheless, she seemed remarkably calm. Counselors, man.

Dean stood and shook out his jacket, patting one hand to Sam’s shoulder as he passed.

“Thanks, man,” Sam said quietly, and caught Dean’s hand with one of his own. He fixed Dean with those soulful eyes that Dean could never refuse. “Seriously,” he added, with an intense look. “I hope she helps you, too.”

Dean just nodded. Once the door was closed behind him, he whirled on Mia. “So, how’re things since we ganked Buddy?”

Mia narrowed those wide eyes of hers at him. “Your need to be in control is pretty transparent Dean.” He shrugged. A guy’s gotta try. She smoothed her flowy skirt with one hand. “But,” she nodded once, “I’m fine, thanks for asking. Your brother’s worried about you, though.” She tilted her head.

“Yeah, Sam worries too much.” He raised his chin. “I just want you to know, I’m only here for him. Before you go…” he waved his hand indistinctly “doing your thing, you should know: I don’t need you to.” Dean continued, pacing. “I already made my peace with Mom.”

Dean turned around to find Mia had already exited the room while he had been talking. “It’s okay, Dean,” Mia’s voice came from the upstairs hallway. “Sam already showed me what you need.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Dress shoes and slacks were stepping down the stairs behind the white bannister. A tan trench coat fluttered over a crisp white shirt. That nerdy blue tie. A hint of dark stubble. Dean’s heart clenched, cold, in his chest.

“Hello, Dean.” A dark rumble, so familiar. It’s not him, Dean forcibly remembered. His heart beat frantically, disobeying orders.

“No.” Dean’s voice shook, betraying his lack of control. He wanted to strike fear into this shifter’s heart. To make her feel afraid, the way all monsters should. “Don’t be him. Be you.” His syllables were clipped. He swallowed, mouth dry. He looked at the floor, blinking back the tears that had suddenly appeared in his eyes.

“Dean.” The soft growl insistent. “Look at me.” Dean’s eyes rose, unbidden, to regard the familiar features of Cas’ face; firm jaw, tousled hair, icy blue eyes. His heart burst open.

“How fucking dare you?” Dean exploded. He was shouting now, drops of spittle escaping his lips. “Be you.” he shouted. “Don’t be him. You cut it out right now, you hear me?” He crowded into the shifter’s space, bristling as big and as threatening as he could get.

The shifter was uncowed. “All right, Dean. But ask yourself,” the shifter tilted Cas’ head. A perfect imitation. “Is it really me you’re mad at?”

Dean made the mistake of looking at its eyes. He told himself he just wanted to see, you know? Could he tell it wasn’t Cas in there, looking out at him? Was there something to give it away, like the lens flare on camera? But it was too much, like it always was. Looking in Cas’ eyes was looking at something so pure and beautiful it hurt. Dean’s heart broke.

He grabbed Cas by the lapels of his dirty trench coat, shaking him. “You moron! You goddamned idiot! So the son of Lucifer tells you it’s all cool and you just believe him?! Really, Cas?” Dean shoved and the shifter flew across the room. That was enough to startle Dean out of the illusion. Cas wouldn’t break so easily.

The shifter rose to its feet, but it was Cas who stared at him, panting. Dean couldn’t help it spilling out of him now. “You’re so naive, so trusting, and what does it get you?” Dean was echoing his tirade to Sam back in the bunker. “It got you dead! And I need you. I need you, Cas, you selfish prick! Did you ever think of that?”

Dean knew he was too far gone to stop now. “No! You try to fix everything and you just make it worse every time. Leaving me alone with Sam to pick up your mess.” Dean crowded into Cas’ space as he spoke, backing him up against the wall. “You chose him.” Dean’s voice was low and dangerous. “You chose Lucifer’s son over me. You fucking played me. And I hate you for it.” His voice broke.

Cas put a hand on Dean’s chest. Far too gentle, Dean remembered. This wasn’t Cas, angelic strength and righteous fury. This was a fake. “Is it really me you’re mad at?” Cas repeated.

Dean drew back sharply, shaking his head. “No.” The outward rage twisted inward instantly, like the cold steel of a knife sliding into his gut. “No, I’m not. Cas. I’m sorry.”

Dean crumpled onto the floor, holding his head in his hands. “I’m so stupid. I never told you…” he ran a hand over his face. “...what you meant to me. And now you’re gone, and you’ll never know.”

Cas sat on the floor beside him. He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I knew, Dean.” he said. “I always knew.”

Dean huffed a wet chuckle. “C’mon, I know you’re not really him.”

Cas looked at him earnestly. “I talked to Sam. If even a fraction of what he told me was true, I knew, Dean.”

Dean sighed, a heavy thing full of regret. “I thought knowing if you didn’t feel the same way would be the worst.” He smiled a tiny smile. “But now…” Dean nodded, certain in his hopelessness. “This is worse. You’re gone and now I’ll never know. Never knowing is worse.” Dean looked at the shifter Cas, who still had a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You can’t give me that, no matter what Sam thinks.” Dean flashed back to yelling at Sam in the bunker, lost and desperate: “Cause right now I…right now I don’t believe in a damned thing.”

Cas put a hand on Dean’s face. Dean closed his eyes. It was how Cas had healed him. It was also exactly how Dean had fantasized about finally, finally, being held, drawn close, kissed.

Cas’ deep voice broke Dean’s reverie. “I hate seeing you like this, Dean. I lived and died for humanity, at its best and its worst. For free will. For you. Is this what you do with it? Give up?” Dean’s eyes flew open, stung. “I want you to live. I want you to be happy.” Cas’ tone brooked no argument.

“What show have you been watching?” Dean scoffed and gave a grim laugh.

Cas sighed “Seriously, Dean. Not butterflies and rainbows happy. Just living, the way I always wanted, if we ever got the rest of it figured out. If I can’t have that, I want you to have that. For me?” Cas placed his other hand on Dean’s face, and reverently pressed his lips to Dean’s.

Dean knew, in a million different ways, this wasn’t real. The shifter didn’t smell like Cas; wasn’t as warm, and the air didn’t crackle with the electricity that always buzzed between them. But this Cas had lips as soft as Dean had ever imagined. This Cas was holding him like he was precious; like he mattered.

Some time later, Dean emerged from the office to find Sam and Jack playing a game on Sam’s phone. Their questioning faces snapped up in unison. Dean inhaled, putting on his armour once more. “Let’s roll,” he ordered.

Mia appeared at the doorway of the office behind him. “Don’t forget what I said, Dean.” She adjusted one of her bracelets, and gave him an encouraging smile.

Dean returned it with one of his own, a genuine one. “Yeah, yeah,” he groused. “C’mon, Sammy. I’m hungry. Let’s grab some more of those hot dogs.” Jack’s eyes lit up at that. The kid liked to eat, Dean would give him that. Jack hurried ahead to the Impala.

Outside, Dean drew even with Sam on the front stairs, catching his arm. “Hey, Sam, uh,” Dean hesitated, unsure. “Listen, you were right, ok? I did need that. I mean, I guess what I’m trying to say,” Dean looked off into the distance. “Thanks, man.”

Sam wordlessly clapped a hand on Dean’s back and walked him to Baby.