#...i may still design something visor/mask-like for her if i suddenly think of a design i like

[pyrotation]

just realised i Could have given my s/i some kind of face covering/visor/etc, faceless characters are 🥰🥰🥰 and it would give him + pyro a nice "they're both masked" kinda visual dynamic, but no! that's Just Me how i look irl!! just very slightly prettier lol

[bunnyramen]

It started with Hagakure, the first somewhat bravely approaching Kirishima and giving him a pair of her hero gloves to wear for whatever reason.

“Wow, thanks Hagakure! I can use these for when i have to work with Hatsume!” He put them on and wiggles his fingers around in them, turning his hand over to gaze at them.

“It’s no problem, Kirishima!” Hagakure blushed a bit, not thinking her plan would work.

The reason she gave him those because she wanted to see him in her hero merch. She had recently gotten a bunch a pairs back since there were always left overs from random cons and such.

It wasn’t odd to see a couple of classmates carrying large boxes back into their room, most likely full of their own merch.

She was surprised she was the first to do it, Kirishima would be the perfect person to showcase that she was the next top hero.

Or at least top 5.

“Well, see you later!” She walked away quickly, Kirishima looking a bit confused cause he figured they would talk a bit more but shrugged it off.

“Bye!” Kirishima waved with the gloves still on, Hagakure barely catching it when she looked back, a grin gracing her invisible face.

——

“Excuse me, Kirishima?” Ochako tapped the taller on the shoulder as they were in the lunch line.

“Hey Ochako! Didn’t see you there! What’s up?” He smiled, his dimples taking over his cheeks that made her heart scream a bit.

“I got some hero merch in the mail and decided to give you these earrings since I know you’re adding to your collection.” Kirishima scooted up in line to make sure he didn’t hold up the long line, Ochako scooting up behind him.

She reached into her jacket pocket and produced a pair of medium sized golden hoops. There were little charms that represented the 8 planets that clacked when you shook them.

Kirishima gasped, “These are so boss!! Thanks so much, ‘chako!” He slipped the first pair earrings that were in his ear off and put in the new ones, absolutely beaming with delight.

“Plus they glow in the dark!”

Kirishima scooted up causing Ochako to scoot up again, then captured her in a hug. Her arms wrapped around his waist and squeezed tight, unexpectedly taking in the scent of cherries and fresh grass.

“These are like the best earrings I have by far!” He smiled again, tilting his head from side to side, making the charms click against each other.

Ochako blinked a few times before putting on a bright smile of her own, the prospect of her merch earrings being the best made her feel warmness in her heart.

——

“Happy great friends day!” Kaminari produced a present suddenly, startling Kirishima who was playing his Ds.

Kirishima has been in the common room on the couch, others were either sitting at the table or on the floor.

“There’s a great friends day?” Kirishima paused his game and sat up on the couch, putting it down on a cushion and turning towards Kaminari.

“Of course it’s not a day that I made up!” He plopped the wrapped gift in Kirishima’s lap, thankful that it was soft.

“I wish I would’ve known! If we’re exchanging gifts, I’d have gotten you one, too.” Kirishima started tearing the packaging and putting the pieces on the cushion to pick up later.

“That’s alright, dude. You don’t need to get me a thing!” Kaminari watched intently as the boy and unfolded the sweatshirt, the clothing being covered in lightning bolts and his hero name in cursive neon yellow letters across the front.

“This is so gnarly! I’m touched!” He hugged the sweater close to his chest, making Kaminari blush.

“Ah, it was nothing really! You just seem to prefer hoodies to shirts anyways.” Kaminari really wanted to be cocky but he couldn’t help but to be humble to Kirishima.

The redhead started to put it over his head but when it came to pulling it down over his stomach, it only got half way down.

“How is it too small? Cant you fit a medium?” Kaminari seemed confused, he could’ve sworn that this was his size.

“No but it’s fine! ‘Sides crop top sweaters are in according to Aoyama’s blog.” Kirishima sucked his arms back into the hoodie and also through the arms of his shirt.

It took a bit of time but after a minute, Kirishima pulled off his shirt, showing off a midsection marked with abs, scars, and plenty of stretch marks.

Kaminari almost covered his eyes but didn’t since he would miss the sight in front of him.

“Well, I’m gonna go to my room and draw or something, thank you for the gift!” Kirishima said a bit hurried as he made his way to the elevator.

“Denks..” Jirou called his attention, said boy turning towards the purple headed girl sitting at the community table with a raised eyebrow.

“That was probably one of the smartest things you’ve ever done..” Jirou mumbled as she clinked the ends of her headphone jacks together, her face red as a ripe strawberry.

Kaminari smiled cockily, “Yeah, I know.” With the amount of shirts Kirishima wore on a daily basis, that hoodie was going to be on display for a good, long while.

——-

“Shit!” Kirishima has his mask in his hands, though it was split in two now.

“What happened, dude?” Kaminari asked as he slipped on one of his boots and laced it up.

“My mask broke in half.” He tossed the two pieces in the trash and started taking off his shirt.

“You dont have a replacement, Kirishima-kun?” Iida slipped on his shin guards and turned towards Kirishima, a calculating arch in his arrowhead brow.

“I don’t! I should probably build new one, Iida-Senpai.” Kirishima pulled out a piece of paper, showing him the blue prints for a new design for a mask on it.

Iida flushed a bit, which was very uncharacteristic for the normally in control president.

(Momo made a joke that it was respectful to call your class reps senpai since they were technically the upperclassmen of the class. Kirishima, not wanting to be impolite, took it seriously)

“This is such a carefully calculated design, I’m extremely impressed.” Iida looked it over and handed it back to the redhead, a rare smile on his face as he pushed up his glasses.

“Thanks! I was thinking about adding goggles to it since I have nothing protecting my eye.” Kirishima took of his pants and slipped on his hero pants and his new metal belt.

“Well, I suppose since you don’t have your mask, you can use these for the time being.” Iida fished a visor-like pair of glasses from his locker, handing them to Kirishima who had finished buckling his shoes.

“Seriously? Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to break them-“

“I assure you Kirishima-kun, it’s quite alright. There an old prototype for my hero costume that didn’t quite fit with the design of my suit. You may keep them.” He handed them to Kirishima as he put both his palms out to take it.

“Thanks so much, Iida-senpai! I really appreciate this!” Kirishima put them on and made a small marveled sound.

“You’re very welcome. Now I must finish getting ready for hero training, I’ll see you out there.” Iida bowed a bit, as did Kirishima with a big smile on his face.

“I’ll see you out there, class rep!” He waved happily as the heavy footfalls of his boots got quieter as he left.

As soon as the boy was gone, Iida had a light smile, almost a smirk on his face.

He normally wasn’t competitive but in this case, he had this one in the bag.

——

Bonus:

“Woah, where’d you get those?” Kaminari pointed at his glasses.

“Iida! He let me have them since I need eye protection!”

“If I would’ve known that, I would’ve given you my old spare!” Kaminari harrumphed.

——-

“Kirishima?” Midoriya knocked politely on the redhead’s door, keeping the item he was holding flush to his side.

I’m no time, Kirishima’s door opened revealing the taller boy, his hair up in a ponytail that swished when he moved his head.

In the front of his hair was a couple dark shadow shaped clips and the boy seems to be wearing a dark cloak.

“Yo Midoriya! What’s up?” He smiled wide, his dimples on display.

“Oh, I heard-uhm that you needed something cool to wear to the sleep over tonight and brought you this.” He grabbed the item from

his hip and unfolded it to show Kirishima.

It was a onesie version of Midoriya’s hero outfit and had a pair of long green ears on the hood.

Kirishima only stared at it, making Midoriya a bit nervous that maybe it wasn’t cool or manly in this case.

“I know I may not be the coolest looking hero..” Midoriya started, looking down a bit in embarrassment.

“Well that’s bullshit!” Kirishima cursed, Midoriya looks back up to see a determined look to his face, eyes shining like rubies with emotion.

“I would be honored to wear this cool ass onesie!” Kirishima put up a finger to signal he needed a moment and closed the door.

In no time, he popped back up in the door way, looking way too adorable in the Deku sleepwear.

It was a bit tight looking but it was never in Deku’s DNA to complain about trivial things.

“What do you think? Am I not the coolest number one hero around?” He put the hood up , displaying the large ears that stood straight up on his head.

“Number one?” Midoriya’s face turned a light pink at implication

“Fuck yeah, dude! And when you’re on that podium and people are cheering you on like-“ He put his hands up to his mouth and cheered quietly “oh my god, we love you so much Deku! You’re so awesome and smart!” He put a hand on Midoriya’s shoulder, “Just know I’ll be in that crowd, and I’ll drag Bakugou’s ass in that crowd too. Ok?” His bright, toothy smile made Midoriya’s heart beat just a little too fast to be normal.

“Ok.” Midoriya smiled back, braces and all.

——-

“Hey Kirishima! You want some of my merch-“ Mineta asked but was cut off when Kirishima suddenly turned around.

“Ew, Fuck No.” Kirishima said as he walked towards his friend group and away from the short grape.

Mina cackled her ass off as Bakugou nodded in approval.

——-

Aoyama gives Kirishima pair of sunglasses designed to look like their hero one because they wouldn’t want Kirishima to be blinded by their sparkle.

Kirishima smiles brightly and Aoyama takes the sunglasses back and puts them on themself, saying that they need it more than he does.

—

Bakugou throws a shirt that looks like a skull shirt but it’s made from the word fuck you, Kirishima wears it proudly.

In reality, it’s his own shirt that he wanted Kirishima to have without the redhead getting suspicious.

—-

Jirou gives him a Deep Dope brand speaker and they end up dancing around crazily to some music playing from his phone.

—-

Todoroki got him a simple half red and half white heeadband, something that Kirishima wears constantly.

——

Sero gave him a charm bracelet with a tape dispenser on it that Kirishima also never takes off.

——-

Someone asks what Kirishima does with all the merch the class keeps giving him.

He has special cork board on his wall and a special box for it all.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

@deepseawave this is a small story dedicated to you! I hope you like it!!

[capricornus-rex]

The Flicker of Rebellion (3)

Requested by: @calkesttiss | Prompt:

Ooo what about Cal and reader going undercover and having to wear inquisitor or trooper uniforms

Cal Kestis x Reader

1 | 2 | Next: Part 4 | Masterlist

3 of ?

The both of you board the shuttle along with the rest of the fighters. It was apparent that they might be the diversion. You saw Riva Fane and Captain Pardell aboard the ship with you as well.

Along the way, you would glance at the mask in your hand and study its design. The light inside the shuttle shines over the film of the red visor, your thumb ran over the material of the mask’s face—it was matte to the touch, but you can tell its material was duraplast.

A crackle over the speakers from the cockpit startled you.

“We are about to make the jump to lightspeed.” The pilot announced.

You tried to relax, taking deep breaths in between, your eyes shift from one soldier to another—unconsciously memorizing their faces, looking for distinguishing features like a scar or face tattoo—and suddenly you feel a hand over yours.

It was Cal’s.

“Nervous?”

“More like anxious,”

He gives a squeeze onto your hand but you eventually intertwined fingers with one another. Cal can feel the tremor in the hand. He wagered it had something to do with the tremendous amount of pressure you have put in your shoulders; he can sense that such thoughts have been running in your mind for some time now.

You noticed a couple of the soldiers wear wearing Stormtrooper armor, you figured that they were decoys for you and Cal. It was a known habit of the Imperial officers and an exploitable one at best.

The turbulence rattled the shuttle, everyone assumed that the ship has entered the orbit of the planet. The same crackle over the speakers was heard in the passenger hold.

“Brace yourselves, we’re about to make our landing. The atmosphere is a little turbulent.” The pilot announced.

All of you held onto the thick bars of the safety harnesses locked over your bodies as the shuttle quaked and rattled.  One last shake from the ship signified that you’ve landed. The safety harnesses hissed as they loosened, everyone stood up from their seat and suddenly it felt like all eyes were on both of you.

“This is it, you two. Are you ready?” a soldier asked, configuring his rifle to sniper mode.

You finally donned the mask and pulled the hood of your cowl over your head.

“Ready.”

“Wait.”

Riva Fane walked up to you, in her hand is another case—only smaller than the one that contained your disguises. When she opened it, she revealed another array of tech that her team had procured.

“More toys?” you teased.

“If you want to keep the act flawless until you get to the vault, then these might come in handy,” she played along.

She picked up a card from the case and Cal took it to examine it.

“This is an officer-level access card,”

“An officer will be manning a terminal just outside the main door of the base. I have to say—as early as now—that card won’t get you through the vault. I’m sorry. You’ll have to make a compromise,”

“And here is a data stick of the map of the base,”

“I think BD-1 can handle this,” Cal suggested, taking the data stick from Riva’s hands and then inserting it into BD-1’s data port.

It took less than a minute for BD-1’s processor to boot and embed the map into his memory, shortly after the booting was complete, he flashed a full-sized projection of the map to everybody in the ship.

“I’m sorry again, this is all what we can provide for you in this mission,”

“Hey, don’t feel bad, Riva. Like I said, we’ll make it an advantage,” you winked.

“Good luck,” she beamed. “And may the Force be with us all.”

Once ready, you and Cal exited the ship, tailed by the pair of in-disguise soldiers.

The four of you marched towards the terminal just before the main door, you took a deep breath and attempted to live as the Sixth Sister character you have been making up in your mind all day. Out of

The officer who confirmed the code from the terminal was surprised by the sight of a new Inquisitor. His stance stiffened, shoulders squared, and chest out.

“Is this the base I am to oversee?”

Your natural docile tone transformed into a cold, indifferent, and yet authoritative personality.

“Yes, Sixth Sister,” Cal answered, avoiding eye contact with the terminal officer, but still keeping in character.

“W-We… weren’t given a directive that a new Inquisitor will be joining us,” the officer stammered.

“Well, here I am now, Officer.”

“Of course, I… I will just need your identification card,”

Cal handed over the card that Riva had given, there was an awkward yet tense air looming about you. You can feel the anxiety within your comrades, even underneath those bulky masks. The lieutenant verified the card and opened the main door for you.

You and Cal each gave a salutatory nod at the officer and marched inside. Once the blast door slammed shut, all four of you finally got a chance to breathe easy. Your Stormtrooper decoys sighed through their helmets.

“We’re just getting started,” you said in your natural voice.

The team sidetracked into a seemingly empty hallway, affording a few seconds to find your bearings, you hid away in a nook.

Cal glanced over his shoulder, “BD? Show us the map, will you, please?”

BD-1 flashed the map again in the air. Upon examining the map, you are two levels away from the destination.

“We’re right here,” your finger hovers over the nook, “There’s an elevator south of here. Come on.”

So far so good. You thought to yourself as you strode through the hallways. Not once in your life did you imagine yourself walking along an Imperial base. You ignored the eyeless gazes of the Stormtroopers that you passed by while Cal kept his eyes hidden underneath the brim of his cap.

“A new Inquisitor?”

“Guess they didn’t post the memo sooner,”

You overheard the banter of a couple of Stormtroopers that you passed by along the way. Your sighs were small and reserved, trying to calm yourself with steady breaths as you walked. Cal’s eyes were shifting left and right, but doing his best to narrow them to one direction only.

“Are you okay?” you smuggle a whisper.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

“Chipper.”

The team was finally close to the elevator. It was vacant when you got there so you had the elevator to yourselves. Another opportunity to catch your breaths while no one is looking.

“How is everybody holding up?” you ask in general.

“We’re okay here,” one of the two soldiers replied.

“Good.”

Cal was standing straight, hands tucked behind his back, and chest prodding out. A single chuckle audibly escapes your mouth, not even your mask can conceal that for you—nary a muffle. Cal looked at you, squinting his eyes until he could catch a glimpse of your eyes through that red visor.

“I can feel you smiling in that mask. What is it?”

“Nothing,” you teased.

A few more seconds passed and you came out clean.

“I just think the uniform looks good on you.”

Cal examined himself and then back to you, and smiled.

“You look good yourself.”

Your head jerked to his direction, looked at him for some time before slowly facing front again. Underneath your mask, you bit your lip.

[sunstriderling]

The princess and the hitman Au for Gency? Or maybe just a fluff of Genji confessing to Angela ^^

+ @nappi​‘s request for sick!Angela & caring!Genji. :> Writing this took 7 000 years but to be honest I’ve been really sick myself for three weeks straight and my brain’s ability to put together coherent sentences was non-existent, so, uh, here we are.

( AO3 )

It’s late, well past ten in the evening - after a mission, most of them would be in bed at this hour. Yet here they are, both her and Genji, in the medical bay; the cyborg busying himself with the drink dispenser, the day’s newspaper, and a blanket-covered chair as if he’s set to move in, and Angela, well, cross-legged on the elevated hospital bed with multiple plush pillows piled behind her back. It’s uncomfortable. Unbelievable, really; it’s as if she’s forgotten completely what it feels like to be ill. All these years she’s tended the sick and the wounded and truly, she’s seen it all, but a mere cold, at worst a flu, something so ordinary and mundane and, most of all, survivable, now feels to her like she’s dying.

How long has it been? Fifteen years?

The puncture wound in her lower back aches like a gunshot wound, only so much smaller, like the infected bite of a mosquito or a horse-fly. It throbs with her fever-stricken everything, a drumming inside her brain and bones, an ache in her muscles, and she sniffs idly with glassed-over eyes, finding the whole situation… ironic, almost amusing. No, whatever was in that dart wasn’t poisonous. It did nothing but stunt her body’s artificially improved regeneration rates, her boosted immunity system, perhaps in the hopes that she’d get shot or just break a bone, leaving her vulnerable or, in the best case scenario for Talon, dead. What she’d actually become was just… sick, like her stellar immunity collapsing on her meant nothing to the lurking germs sticking to her but the open opportunity they’d waited for for a good half of her lifespan. Suddenly, it was as if her basic, unmodified biology no longer knew how to handle a simple virus.

This was a flaw in the design of the regenerative design she’d previously regarded as a succesful experiment. She’d realised it the first thing after noticing the aches in her joints, the thickness in her throat, and the slowly growing soreness everywhere. She’d have to fix that, this sudden immunity collapse syndrome, at once when she wouldn’t be shaking madly with the sickness anymore. When her brain worked again. When something worked again.

Everyone had been quite concerned. They couldn’t recall ever seeing her sick and even though surely they had, they may have not noticed it; sickness had never stopped her from working, she’d just chosen projects that didn’t risk her patients on those days, or her colleagues. Sickness made her antisocial, brought her mind back to the workings of her own body, what it was going through, and how she could turn this intimate knowledge of the process of the illness in her and the stages her body took towards recovery into the building bricks of medical science. Even now, that was where her mind had been, and perhaps it was that fact that had calmed the team down in the end. They’d all gone to bed, hadn’t they? She’d told them she’d be fine self-medicating and sleeping the fever off in the medical bay, and they’d told her they’d see her in the morning, wished her a swift recovery, and disappeared into their little holes inside the Watchpoint like a strike team of exhausted foxes.

Everyone except Genji.

He’s got tan lines over his cheeks and forehead, Angela notes as he sits on the side of her bed, offering her a steaming cup of hot chocolate from the dispenser. It’s summertime, and after settling in, after growing comfortable with his companions once more, he’s spent quite some time outdoors with his visor off. She wonders if sunlight still hurts his modified eyes; she didn’t quite know how to fix that after the repairs, after the improvements. She simply told him to get used to it.

Retrospectively, she always felt guilty about that, yet - he doesn’t seem to squint as much anymore, if at all.

“I am afraid it is not Swiss. I keep disappointing,” Genji says with a hint of a grin.

She chuckles, rolls her eyes and lets out a gentle cough that masks the desperate pressure in her throat demanding a much bigger, much sharper relief. She’s not holding it back for him as much as for her own body’s sake; she’ll cough hard when it helps some, but for now, the only thing it does is bruise her from the inside out.

“Silly. I wouldn’t be able to taste it, even if it was Swiss - my body will hardly know the difference,” Angela huffs in response, bringing the cup to her lips and taking the smallest sip to try how hot the drink is.

Quite.

Genji chuckles.“Are you telling me that there are no magical healing qualities to Swiss chocolate, Angela? For all the praise you’ve had for it…”

“I am telling you that, yes.”She thinks it over for a moment before taking another sip and placing the mug between her crossed legs, over the baby blue blanket thrown over her.“You do know that I will do just fine on my own, Genji. Go to bed.”

“No,” Genji replies casually, picking up his own blanket; it’s fuzzier, and sand brown; ���I’ll stay here. I know you would do just fine on your own, Angela, but it is a special kind of loneliness, being alone when you are feeling under the weather. So I will be here and accompany you, so you can focus on getting better. It is what a friend would do, is it not?”

She smiles. Then, slowly, she nods.“I had forgotten all about that. I never let myself have it; my career left no time for sick leaves, and it left very little time for friendship, too. So I worked while I was ill and… the kindness you’re showing me is like remembering something from childhood. All those nights as a little girl, with my mother or my father bringing me cold medicine or soup to eat.”

It takes her a moment to get back to the present day, but when she does, she sees Genji tilting his head with a gentle expression on his face.“Tell me more,” he prompts her, “I have never heard you speak of your childhood.”

A quiet chuckle escapes her and she shakes her head, lowering her gaze to her steaming drink on her lap. She waits for some time, perhaps for her mind to start working again, to form a thought one way or the other, but it seems - feels - as if there’s some technical issue with her functions, the whole of her mind reduced to a blank state of white noise. Finally, she brings the mug up to her lips again, shaking a little at the contrast of the hot drink touching her otherwise so cold-feeling body.

“There is not much to tell, Genji. Or - perhaps there is, but it all seems quite mundane and so distant that I wouldn’t know what to talk about. Surely you have similar experiences. Surely nothing I had was that special. I had a mother and a father once, and I was small, and I was cared for and sometimes I was sick, and my mother would sit by my bed singing me lullabies, my father would read me lighthearted poetry from children’s books, and I - would fall asleep and have nightmares. I had a lot of nightmares as a child, from fevers, I remember that being the worst part of being ill. Strange dreams, that you wouldn’t think were scary; objects from the real world beginning to spin around the room, levitating. Impossible things. My blankets and bed turning to thorns. Those dreams scared me then, but I grew out of them.”

She lifts her gaze and examines him.

“What about you? Would you share some memories from your past with me, too?”

Genji’s eyes narrow, but the lingering smile on him is both thoughtful and a little bit amused, as if she’s challenged him.

“When I was a child,” he begins then, “being sick was the only time when my brother would stop pushing me around. Literally. I was our father’s favourite as a young boy - he gave me much of the attention he would not give to my brother, who had to be raised tough for the future of our bloodline, you see. So maybe I was raised like a little girl, too. I did not care for poetry, however. I remember playing video games and being bored out of my mind through illnesses, my body going through phases of fever chills and floods of sweating… Funny, I have not recalled these things in a long time. I have not had to.”

He eyes her, and a small chuckle escapes him as well.

“I suppose that is on you, Doctor Ziegler?”

Angela nods slowly.“Your body’s regenerative abilities -”

“I understand.”

They’re silent for some time, and Angela leans her sore back into the pillows, rests her head and breathes deep, as deep as her itchy lungs allow her from the spasms in her chest threatening her with coughing fits. No, not yet, she tells her body and relaxes; all of that will come soon enough.

“I quite missed your company,” Genji tells her then, his voice softer, quieter now, as if he’s either not quite sure how to approach this subject, or if he’s not sure if she’s asleep and doesn’t want to wake her up.

She peers at him lazily through a partially opened eye, then closes it again, nodding. The nod compresses her throat and she coughs unwillingly, but it passes quickly, letting her relax again.

“It seems strange, all those years we exchanged letters and yet I feel as if I am just now meeting you for the first time,” the cyborg continues.

“It is all quite different since we last met, face to face,” she mumbles, cheekbones burning with fever and most her attention directed towards the fact, “Much has changed; we are older, but we are also very different people. You are no longer lost, and I am no longer an overgrown child.”

“Was I lost when we last met? Were you an overgrown child?” Genji asks her, his voice amused.

“Would you contest either of those claims?” she asks him back.

He thinks for a moment.“No,” he says then; “With confidence, I can say that I was lost. And perhaps I saw you differently then, but now that I have met you once more, you are indeed a woman. I am not quite sure I saw you that way before. You were my doctor, but you were very young, and you seemed out of your comfort zone, even when you were the most experienced person in the room, doing what only you could do.”

“Precisely. I have grown since, Genji. Not quite like you have, and yet, if I could meet my younger self from those days, I would have much advice to give that silly girl.”

They look at each other, and there’s warmth in Genji’s eyes, acceptance, and somehow, Angela realises she needed to see that. She smiles at him before reaching for her hot chocolate again.

“Back then it seemed absurd that there is merely a year or so between us,” she says then; “in my eyes you seemed - immature. Boyish, as if you were stuck in the worst of your teenage years. And I was not done growing up myself. I quite never gave myself the chance to experience youth, and I suppose that made me young for a very long time in the developmental sense. I thought I could bypass the nonsense that other teenagers got caught up in, so that when I turned 20, then 25, all that unspoken rebellion and most of all the confusion and insecurity that I’d never worked through was still there. Yet I still thought of myself above you, because my way of carrying myself was so controlled, so pretentiously mature, and you were caught up in your unpredictable moods like you had no skills in fighting them. Trauma does that to people, and yet I allowed myself to think that this was simply who you were. A silly boy, to project away the truth that I was also a silly girl inside. I hope my words don’t offend you.”

Genji shakes his head.“No. If you’d spoken them to me then, I would have become very angry, but I see the truth in what you say today. I was very lost and I was very afraid, Angela. Perhaps I took much of that out on you.”

“You were angry at me very often.”

“You were safe to be angry at. And you had that annoying professional smile every time that just made me more frustrated. I hated that smile, the way it implied that you pitied me, the way it highlighted how unstable I was, how it made me aware of my behaviour. I hated it, and I knew that you wouldn’t leave me if I showed just how much.”

She nods.“You are not angry anymore,” she says.

“And you don’t give me that professional smile either,” Genji tells her, his eyes twinkling.

She laughs, a careless act that leads to another cough. When she recovers, she nods again, barely noticing the man’s fingers touching her arm with concern and affection. 

“Trust me,” she says to him, “I am even more capable of giving that look today than I was back then; that pained look covering up my frustration with a difficult patient. I give that same smile to my male colleagues who think they can outperform me by the grace of their XY chromosomes as well. I have practiced it, Genji, and I have practiced it long and hard.”

He lifts his brows, looking playful.“Which must mean that I do not frustrate you anymore. Am I wrong?”

“You are quite correct. In fact, I find myself quite fond of your company. I was nervous to meet you again after all these years; what if we wouldn’t have the kind of a - how would I describe it? That kind of a connection that was so apparent to me through our letters. I waited for them so eagerly each time, but the thought of seeing you in person after being separated for such a long time…”

“The fear that the person you were in writing would not be the person you were in flesh, I understand. I felt that too. I had butterflies in my stomach when I landed here, in fact, and the worst of them I felt when I had to shake your hand.”

Her smile softens, turns quite strangely gentle. She feels it linger on her lips even when she runs out of words, as if he’s said everything there is to say.

“Angela,” he begins then, if only to prove her wrong; “I have a confession to make.”

“And what would that be?” she asks him, sipping her drink with her eyes never leaving his.

He seems more confident now, but there’s a tension in his act of relaxedness, a relapse to that nervous tension he described before.

“There is another reason I was so nervous to meet you once more. It is a long story but I think the sum of it is very short indeed. Would you mind if I spoke it now, or would you rather sleep off the fever, and talk with me once you are in a clearer state of mind?”

Angela squints at him, then shakes her head.“My mind is quite functional. I would not work with it, but when it comes to mere interaction, I am not that far gone quite yet.”

He smiles at her, but his smile shivers and shrinks fast, and he seems to second-guess his intentions before regaining confidence.

“That boy you knew years ago, Angela, grew quite fond of you. He would always wish that perhaps we would have a chance to meet again under different circumstances, when he wasn’t quite so angry, and when you wouldn’t see him as that bed-bound project that he felt like then. After all, you were a girl, and he was a boy, and you spent much time together outside the professional framework. He enjoyed those times and when he left this place, those were the times he regretted losing the most.”

Her breath hitches a little, matching the inconvenient pause between her heartbeats, but she says nothing; the cold that grows in her fingertips, her toes and the tip of her nose has nothing to do with the fever chills now.

“That’s why he sent you the first letter,” Genji continues. “Over time, that boy became me, and his affections became my affections. I don’t feel the same way about you as he did, for many things changed since, and the girl he knew is not the woman who sits before me tonight. And yet, the affection is still there, and like myself, it grew over time, and as I learned more about you, it seemed to feed off all those new, wonderful things that I discovered. This is an awful time to ask, Angela, but I was wondering if, once you are feeling less ill, you’d like to have dinner together, or perhaps watch a movie with me? This - I promise you I used to be much better at this, but I also promise that I am doing my best, and yes, I am asking you out for a date. Of course if you’d rather do these things only as friends I understand and I would not mind, and -”

“Genji.”Angela closes her eyes, slipping deeper into her bed; the pillows rub at her raw back and her throat feels sandpapery and sickly, but for the time being, the dizziness, the cold, and the frantic beating of her heart aren’t connected to the illness.“I have a lot on my mind right now, but the first thing I found myself asking while listening to your rambling was that I can’t quite believe you are looking at me like this, with my swollen eyes and red nose and disheveled hair and dry lips, and yet decide to ask me out anyway.”

He gasps a little, physically pulling back from her.“Oh,” he says clumsily, “I - I understand, I should have waited, I don’t want it to look like I’m trying to pressure you while you’re not feeling up to it, I’m… very sorry, Angela, that was not my intention.”

She throws a bored look at him, her eyes unfocused but judgemental.“Calm your nerves,” she tells him, but there’s a hint of amusement to her harsh tone, “Like I said, I am quite in my right mind. What I am not is in my right anything else; I am a sniffling, sneezing, coughing, gooey mess of sweat. And yet, you see this, and you think, yes, this is still the woman I would like to take to movies with me.”

Genji’s quiet now, quite still; she enjoys the confused, yet increasingly hopeful look on his features.

“Of course I’ll join you for a dinner, or a movie, or a dinner and a movie, once my condition improves. I would like nothing better, Genji. As friends, or else; we will have to find out about the details later. Who knows? You are charming, and I’ve more than occasionally felt weak in your presence, or inspired, or yet something wholly different. I didn’t think you might feel something like it too - I never let myself linger on it, thinking it inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate?” Genji lets out, and by the sound of it, the word is his first exhale in a very long time.

She nods.“Trappings of my profession, I fear. I quite simply don’t see myself as… dateable. Psychologically speaking, I think that may be something I need to work on in the future.”

A breathless laughter escapes the cyborg, and he shakes his head.“Trust me,” he says, his eyes playful once more as he looks at her, “You are quite dateable indeed.”