#Buckle up the next installment and where things get...messy

[greenninjagal-blog]

Space Time Equations

Hello its a lovely day and I’m here to make it lovelier with a new installment of the Space and Everything In It series (aka my Alien au staring human Virgil and Janus)

Summary: As the two resident Deathworlders on the ship, Virgil and Janus have to make a decision. Although its not much of one at all. Both of them seem to be on the same page about what they want to their future to be like.... right?

Word Count: 9364

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws 

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“Erso.”

“No.”

“Amidala.”

“No.”

“Skywalker?” 

“Virgil,” Janus said without even bothering to open his eyes. “So help me, if you say one more word I am going to smother you with this pillow.”

Virgil gently dragged his fingers through Janus’s blond curls for another moment, humming softly to himself as he had been doing for a good portion of the phisannu that they had been laying here together. Janus smelled like lavender, soft and calming and Virgil breathed in the scent, with every inhale, feeling hazy and soft in a way that he couldn’t remember being before. 

“Organa?” 

And Janus, who was not a liar, who did not joke about this sort of thing, who did not pull punches or know the meaning of the word mercy, jerked around and slammed the heaviest, thickest pillow they had into Virigl’s face as hard as he could.

Admittedly, it did hurt. Just a little. He hadn’t quite gotten around to asking which of the numerous thousands of alien animals out there went into creating a pillow like the ones one the Mindscape, but their fur-feathers-fluff-whatever could get dense when it was packed together, which is how Janus liked his pillows for some reason, even back on Earth: weaponizable.

Virgil has found that the longer he spent around Janus, the more he remembered these little memories too: laying on Janus’s bed staring up at the ceiling because he was on the softest bed in the world, with a rock hard pillow under his head, and his brain wouldn’t stop whispering about how there was really only a handful of inches between them, that if he really wanted to he could roll over and drape himself over Janus’s arm and if Janus freaked out he could pretend he was asleep and hadn’t realized what he was doing, that if he was lucky, Janus wouldn’t wake up and Virgil would get to spend a few hours listening to his heartbeat and imagining they lived in a world where Virgil was a little braver and capable of actually asking Janus out and not scared to death of what would happen if he said "yes". 

Of course, Virgil wouldn’t dare admit that he had these thoughts to Janus now, but he held onto those memories that kept coming back like they were life preservers in the middle of the ocean that he somehow found himself drowning in. Patton, Logan, and Roman had done so well holding him afloat for so long, but now he could roll over and stare at Janus and he could thread the waves himself--

The pillow missed his head by a scant few inches. 

“Solo?” Virgil gasped out ducking as another pillow reared back again.

“Go! To! Sleep!” Janus said, punctuating each word with a hit from his pillow shaped boulder. “Asshole!” 

Or at least that was what Virgil assumed he was saying. Virgil really was laughing too hard to make it out. He blocked a hit of the pillow with his left arm, and quickly flung another pillow into Janus’s stomach while he was distracted. 

Janus’s laughter reminded Virgil of the sunlight streaming in through the windows of Janus’s room back on earth, of the surprising warmth of the pool water after Janus pushed him in at two thirty eight in the morning, of the electrifying feel of Janus’s hand over his mouth as Janus’s mother walked by the closet they were hiding in on her way to deal with some important emergency at her rich person job, unaware that Janus and Virgil just finished cleaning the dishes from the cookies they baked that were all wrapped in napkins and stuffed in Virgil’s pockets, nearly burning his hands-- 

Virgil’s own lips curled up at the sound, feeling his own (much more dumb sounding) laugh bubbling up his throat in the most disgusting display of absolute smitteness. It would be embarrassing; Virgil was embarrassed about it. Janus could be shoving a knife into his ribcage and Virgil would be entirely okay with it so long as he continued to look at Virgil the way that he was doing it right now. He couldn’t even imagine what type of grief Roman would give him if he knew that Virgil was capable of such smittenness. Logan had already made his concerns very well known, and look how well that had gone!

Janus snatched Virgil’s sole pillow away and tossed it somewhere behind him in the nest of blankets the two of them had made in the common area and waved his own threateningly in the air over Virgil’s prone body. 

“I’m armed and dangerous! Surrender!” he commanded, panting slightly as he fixed his golden hair back into a semi presentable state, trying to press away his smile by sheer force of will.

“Has anyone ever told you you're a complete bully?” Virgil asked with a teasing smile, even when Janus smacked him again in the face. “This is a breach of my human rights! Freedom of speech!” 

“We’re in SPACE!” 

“I’m still a human!”

“You’re going to be a corpse if you don’t shut up!”

“I love when you threaten me,” Virgil said and watched the glorious red blush take over Janus’s face from behind the pillow being smacked into his face again. “I love you.”

“Shut Up,” Janus said back, and Virgil almost thought he might be begging, if begging was ever a thing that those pesky Ekans were taught. 

Without giving Janus much more than a second to prepare himself, Virgil sat up and snatched the pillow from Janus's already distracted hands. Janus let it go without too much of a struggle, content to catch his breath as Virgil reached through the infinite inches between them and cupped the side of Janus's face, as gently as he would hold a thunderstorm in a glass ornament. His fingers had memorized Janus’s cheek, his strangely cool skin, the way that a single touch sent electric shivers through Virgil, but there was always something invigorating about doing it, about Janus allowing him to do it, about how at least one of young-Virgil’s dreams had come true.

The faint scar lines on his cheek were barely visible now, far more distant than the actual memories of the Pol’tur ship and Janus’s previous crew. In certain lights, Virgil had noted that it looked almost like golden cracks on his seamless skin, like elaborate stage makeup that could be brushed away to reveal that picture perfect memory of that boy that had been Virgil’s entire world, as if with a careless movement Virgil would erase everything that had happened between Earth and now.

Something in his chest twisted and Virgil shoved it down as hard and sharply as he could.

Janus had missed a few wisps of hair that floated lightly in an invisible wind out of his tidy hair cut, and his breaths came out in undignified huffs that would have been unbecoming and unthinkable if they were still back on Earth. He was wearing another one of Virgil's Quitan-cut shirts that promotes some…retail resort or something in Quintarian, something so cheap that the dye was likely to bleed onto his skin. He's staring at Virgil with a lightness in those eyes of his that he couldn't have learned from his parents, his friends, Earth itself.

He wasn’t the same as he was back then. Virgil wasn’t the same and he didn’t want either of them to be.

Janus’s lips were soft pink, like sparkling rosé wine, a hint of his tongue as he licked to wet them in a suddenly shy manner. Virgil suddenly couldn’t look away from them, from the curve of Janus’s jaw and the soft skin of his neck that Virgil suddenly had a very stupid thought to start kissing.

Super stupid. The most stupid.

So extremely stupid, in fact that Janus leaned forward, muscles rolling until he was in Virgil's lap, and each and every one of their atoms were singing about it and Virgil still almost thought that he had slipped into dreamland and started hallucinating this whole thigh.

Thing. Not thigh. Though that was 100% Janus’s thigh right there.

"This okay?" Janus whispered cautiously, as if a single hitch if Virgil’s breath would be enough to scare him to the other side of the room, straight through the walls and into the void around them. 

There could be galaxies exploding around them, and Virgil wouldn't have even noticed.

“More than,” he whispered back, his lungs traitorously out of breath, mouth strangely dry, the urge to say so many stupid things-- “You… you are very pretty.”

“So I’ve been told,” Janus said, half teasing. His arms snaked around Virgil’s torso, coming to a rest on the waistband of Virgil’s pajamas. The whole world breathed for an eternity, in and out, in and out and in and--

“You’re not so bad looking yourself,” Janus hummed, barely a hair’s breadth away from Virgil’s lips himself. Virgil could turn his head and kiss him and Janus would probably be really into that. 

“I think we were supposed to be sleeping,” and why did he say that.

Janus laughed, warm and flattering and it does not make Virgil’s brain do anything other than short circuit like one of his dumb robots. 

“I seem to recall,” Janus said. “That I was sleeping, and that there was someone else here who was not sleeping.”

“Sounds like a dumbass.” please someone just shoot him with a blaster right now.

“I still like him,” Janus said. His fingers tapped on his waist, slowly and methodically and very dangerously. Virgil’s chest froze, his heart beating so rapidly that he was pretty sure that Janus could hear it, based on that smirk that followed. Avenged Sevenfold could probably make a bomb ass song with just his heartbeat as the drums.

“Do you?”

He didn’t even realize he’d spoken until Janus’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly Virgil wanted to melt into a puddle of Deathworlder goo and pretend he didn’t exist at all. It was pathetic, his voice breaking without warning like he really cared all that much about Janus liking him. He did care. He cared so much.

Being the center of Janus’s care, being  the object of his affection was something that younger-Virgil would have scoffed about, but now that he had it, now that he was it, Virgil could see exactly why so many people let the Ekans family stomp over them for it.

((“Don’t you have somewhere to be little Cikery? Go back to sleep. In your bed or Janus’s. I don’t care.”

“Something tells me you actually do.”))

 Why so many people lost their fucking minds over Janus’s addictive attention.

“I do,” Janus said in that tone of his that spoke laws of physics into the world, that made people stop to listen, that made Virgil almost believe him all the time. “Nothing he can do can really make me stop liking him. Not even him disrupting the best chance of sleep that I’ve had since Remus knocked me out with his toxin, oh when was that? Three days ago? Speaking of, are you going to tell me what the two of you talked about?”

((“You just turn right around, get into that escape pod, and eject yourself into space.”))

“What?” Virgil stuttered, blinking away the sudden onslaught of Remus’s stupid face peering out from the darkness. “I didn’t-- we didn’t--” 

“Virgil.” 

“Just a totally friendly conversation!” Virgil said. “I don’t even remember what we talked about!”

It wasn’t entirely a lie and Virgil wasn’t entirely a coward; Remus was several layers of conversation stacked on each other with a knife shaped core that cut anything that got close and every time Virgil thought about their late night rendezvous he got a worse feeling in his chest about it. 

After Remus had gone to bed, Virgil had somehow stumbled back to his own room and spent the rest of the night staring at the little lights of his glowing plants and thinking far too much about nothing at all. He thought that when the morning broke, he would tell everyone that Remus was… and that was as far as he had gotten because he wasn’t sure what Remus was at all. 

He was insane, except not really. He was dangerous, except not exactly? He was a captain, except not anymore. 

So in the end… Virgil hadn’t said anything about Remus nearly killing him and Remus hadn’t said anything about Virgil almost killing him in turn, and Roman had complained something terrible about a hangover at breakfast and everyone else had acted as if they hadn’t noticed anything unusual. To Virgil’s knowledge no one had been into the Transporter Room since then and no one had asked after things that were mysteriously missing from around the ship, and no one had pointed out that Virgil had some form of PTSD that was diagnosable by alien standards.

But Janus was staring at him like he could see the bruising around Virgil’s neck that he had been religiously using a skrad healing pad to get rid of since the other night.  

“Remus doesn’t do “friendly” conversations,” Janus said, like someone with a very long list of examples in his back pocket.

“Exactly!” Virgil said. “He was looking for tips on how to do it! And asked me. The expert on friendly, completely normal, non-fighting conversations that do not involve nearly killing each other at all.”

Janus was silent for a whole minute, letting Virgil come to terms with every word that he just spewed into the air. Virgil almost thought that maybe he would let him get away with it too, just for the sheer audacity of the attempt; the same way that some of Virgil’s teacher’s used to let him get away with doing only a fourth of their homework for the full completion grade just so he wouldn’t be completely failing their classes.

“You are a terrible liar,” Janus’s lips pressed together in that way that read as both amusement and annoyance and Virgil offered his best approximation of mental regret and apologies via telepathy that he doesn’t have.

“Can we get back to kissing?”

Janus leaned forward just enough to peck his cheek, short, sharp, and definitely too quick for Virgil to catch with his own lips. It was horribly unfair that Janus could use such a tactic with the ease of a master magician, and yet Virgil somehow always ended up the fool for him. 

“You’ll get more when you tell me what’s up with you and Remus.”

As far as cruel and unusual punishments, Virgil thought that this might have been the cruelest. Of course, Janus wouldn’t know anything about that though, tap, tap, tapping his fingers on Virgil’s waist teasingly, and lording the scent of lavender over Virgil’s head. He was used to how his own silva tasted and didn’t know that Virgil was finding himself with a horrible, terrible shortage of Janus silva in his mouth.

Jesus Christ what is wrong with him; what was that fucking sentence--?

 “How did you even know we talked?” Virgil whined.

Janus huffed another laugh, running one of his fingers in a circle on Virgil’s hip. “Well, first of all, I have eyes, Virgil.”

Okay, so what? He probably noticed that Virgil had been very quick to evacuate locations where Remus suddenly appeared. That wasn’t totally unusual; before the other night Virgil’s run-ins with Remus had been non-existent and neither of them had even been trying to avoid one another. 

Or well Virgil hadn’t been trying to avoid Remus. He wasn’t sure if Remus had been avoiding him, avoiding what he represented, avoiding the urge to rip out Virgil’s spine and sell it to his Black Market Alien Friends Who Might Not Have Actually Been Friends Because Remus Wasn’t Actually All That Bad And Now Remus Was Crewless And Virgil Is Intimately Aware Of How Horrible It Can Be To Be Alone. 

Fuck. 

“Can we talk about something else? Please. Or even go back to not talking at all! I won’t say anything and you can sleep.”

Janus hummed in that way that sounded exactly like his mother and Virgil (remembered the Robotics Competition, the Police Investigation, the TV Interviews--) used all his will power to suppress his flinch. 

“Virgil,” Janus said.

“It wasn’t important. Just a talk between two guys! Nothing’s going to come of it. You can trust me about that, right?”

Janus hesitated, and Virgil felt very much like he had taken a cheap shot on him, even though trust hadn’t really ever been a question between them. Their relationship had started with Janus trusting Virgil with the most dangerous secret he had, and Virgil had taken it right to Janus’s grave with him, lips sealed even when Janus’s parents had painted him into the monster that suited their needs.

Not that Janus knew that. Not that Janus had any reason to suspect that Virgil had been the sole inheritor of blame for every bad thing on Earth. Not that Virgil was ever going to tell Janus if he could help it.

Virgil was a coward by nature, born and bred, and running away from conversations was just something wired into him intuitively.

“Okay,” Janus said finally, voice low and rumbling and still somehow clearly enunciated. He rolled his tongue over the Common Word, as if it left a bad taste in his mouth when he said it. “Okay, Virgil, I trust you.”

Virgil delicately brings his hand back up to Janus’s face, rubbing his thumb over the corner of his lips. Janus let a smile flick over himself at the touch, showing off the hints of teeth under those pretty kissable pink lips. Virgil tilted his head up slightly as if he could entice Janus to let the conversation fall out of his mind entirely.

Janus surged forward in the next breath and their lips collided, bringing with him a tidal wave of warmth, warmth, warmth. Virgil breathed in lavender, and breathed out a series of nonsensical delighted noises that his younger self would have been utterly horrified to hear him making about Janus Ekans. 

Virgil hadn’t exactly ever felt like a soft person: his parents had molded him into something with jagged edges and a distrust of everyone and everything; Mr. and Mrs. Ekans had sharpened those edges into something that looked like they could cut, even though Virgil had never hurt someone before. When he was on the Weslor Fighting Rings, he had forced those blades into reality to keep himself alive, to survive, to continue breathing even when he couldn’t think of a reason to want to. 

And even though those blades had shattered against Logan’s rock exterior, dulled to something less effective, less dangerous, less… less under the buzzing, welcoming, all accepting blanket that was the Mindscape, they were still there and Virgil’s habit of grabbing for them when he stressed was hard to unlearn. He’d let himself loosen his hold on those jagged edges, although they still fit in his hands, although his mind still remembered how to hold them, although he felt like he needed to look over his shoulder a lot of the time. He could stop being Virgil Storm, but  he would have to be Virgil the Deathworlder for the rest of his life, and there wasn’t a single alien that would look at a Deathworlder and not attack first.

So he didn’t consider himself soft, but under Janus’s hands he became malleable to whatever his golden haired half desired. He didn’t think about losing the steel plated spine he’d grown that had helped him stand when the whole world was against him, but Janus’s body warmth made it melt into the pillows around them. He wasn’t squishy, he wasn’t kind; he was barely even polite. 

But Janus’s tongue made him want to practice his pleases and thank yous. 

Janus pulled back, and Virgil wondered what type of will power one had to have to get that much strength. Virgil’s lungs gasped and panted, baying for air, and Janus was smiling at him in that stupid, very kissable way of his that should have been illegal. He was a menace, a Problem with a capital P, a warning sign that was one day going to be the death of Virgil.

And Virgil wouldn’t look away for the ending of the universe, his mind a strangely static version of calmness that only comes from having one single thought on repeat:

“So… what are we doing now?”

“Depends,” Janus said dangerously. “Are you going to be a good boy for me?”

And if Virgil were in any other state of mind, he might have been embarrassed by how fast and fervently he replied, “Yes.”

Janus ghosted a kiss over Virgil’s lips and Virgil would chase him if there weren't those hands on his waist reminding him to stay still. Janus smiled at him, so pretty and amazing and wonderful and he leaned in close to Virgil cheek, pressing light soft imprints up his cheek bone and back towards his ear. Virgil’s chest hummed in the charged silence, his heart thumping with a giddy hope, absolutely ready for whatever Janus wanted him to do.

There was a breath. Janus hovered just to the left of his face, pressing a kiss to the tip of Virgil’s ear.

And then. 

“Apologize for keeping me awake,” Janus whispered about as delicately as a fucking moon crashing into their spaceship.

“Are you kidding me?!” Virgil moaned. “Are you fucking serious?”

“I’m waiting….”

Virgil threatened to wriggle but Janus’s hands were a very strong reminder of why he didn’t want to, of the things he was going to get if he just did it, of how much he was in love with Janus.

“You are actually an asshole,” Virgil said, tilting his head up. “Such an asshole. I’m sorry for talking. I’m sorry that I interrupted your sleep. I’m sorry that your stupid face likes mine. Now please kiss me again, you fucker.”

Janus laughed and all at once pushed forward. Their lips matched up, like puzzle pieces, like perfectly cut metal plates, like missing pieces of code that suddenly made the incredibly sappy part of his brain start to function all over again. Virgil’s back grinded into the floor; one of their bunched up blankets was tangled under his spine like a knot that definitely was going to hurt later but Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to care as Janus helped himself to laying completely on top of him. There were sparks in Virgil’s mind, lighting up his whole existence brighter than any light that Logan might have been able to produce. 

Janus kissed deep and fierce, his hands glided up under Virgil’s shirt tracing whatever muscles that he could find and everything in Virgil was at risk to actually, physically explode. He tasted like that sweet tea that Patton liked, and Virgil grinned at the thought of him slipping the tea bags into one of the mugs that Patton had once bought for Virgil when Logan had explained that Virgil would be staying (with them, on their ship, in Space That Was As Far From Earth As He Could Get).

Virgil’s fingers threaded through Janus’s hair, ruffling it the way that Mrs. Ekans would have hated with a passion. Virgil kissed her son the way that she would have hated too: messy and sweet and imperfect. Their teeth knocked, their noses seem to suddenly be in the wrong position on their faces, the fact that they have to breathe through their faces seems to be an epic design flaw that Virgil needs to talk to some godly entity about--

“Fuck--” Virgil gasped.

“That’s the idea,” Janus heaved, far too pleased with himself.

“Did you put a sock on the door?”

“Remus takes that as an invitation to come in. But if you’re nice and quiet we don’t have to worry about--”

“THAT’S FUNDAMENTALLY FLAWED!” A voice yelled from the doorway, and all at once Virgil remembered that there are four other aliens on the ship and there aren’t actually doors to the living room area that they all come to hang out in when they finish their duties around the ship.

Janus jumped off him, practically to the other side of the room, face so red that he could have been mistaken for Roman if he had a bit more spikes. Virgil, himself, wasn’t sure he was any better: his lungs were still recovering and his brain was screeching with a sudden emptiness that made focusing on damage control nearly impossible. His heart was beating in his throat strangling all the oxygen molecules that might possibly come through.

"Oh, hey… Pat…Lo," Virgil said. "It's… uh…not what it looks like?"

Neither Patton nor Logan look like they believed that, but to be fair Virgil guessed that if he walked in on two of the deadliest creatures in existence tossing around on the floor, with those words coming from them, he also wouldn't believe that they were being Family Friendly and Safe for Work. Logan had his upper two arms covering Patton’s very large, emotion-radar eyes as if he could block out the most-likely very bright silhouettes that were Virgil and Janus. Patton himself was flushed, hanging upside down from the rafters of the ship per his usual method of traveling around and despite him being the oldest being Virgil knows, he was seeming to try to look anywhere else other than at them.

“Virgil,” Logan said clinically. “I respect that you both are consenting creatures and while I am extremely curious about Deathworlder biology and mating rituals--”

“I already regret this more than you could possibly know,” Virgil yelped out. “Please just kill me.”

“It was a joke! We were not actually going…to….” Janus said at the same time. “That would be… completely disrespectful to the hospitality you have already provided me--”

“Totally disrespectful!” Virgil agreed. “We would never!”

“And honestly the fact that you think we would!” Janus added. “What sort of Cikeriy do you take us for? In fact, I think I am insulted by the insinuation!”

Virgil frowned, squinting. “Wait, what is a Cikeriy?”

Janus shook his head in a way that means he’ll explain later, although just from the context Virgil got the impression that he owed Remus some massive dental work. 

"Do you kiddos have a moment?" Patton asked carefully. 

And it was then that Virgil clocked how…nervous Patton looked. Immediately he felt his shoulders tense, glancing beyond the Reytin and Tenekarie towards the door as if he would spy some secret alien stow away pointing a blaster at their backs. But the doorway was empty and Janus tapped two fingers onto Virgil's side without a trace of his previous amusement in those pretty brown eyes.

“Yeah, uh, yeah we do,” Virgil said. 

“Not a lot of time,” Janus said, still not looking anywhere in their direction. “We were quite busy. Being respectful guests on your ship and nothing else, of course.” 

Of course, he said. Of course nothing else, especially not when Janus was fluttering his eyes, making them look large and wet and arguably innocent, because he was an actor long before he was Virgil’s crush and his favorite pastime was seeing what sort of trouble he could get Virgil in. 

“Oh-kay,” Patton said, flipping around and hanging with his legs from the rafter, so he was a bit closer to their heights. It didn’t help with how nervous he looked, although Virgil wouldn’t exactly describe any of his mannerisms as nervous if he hadn’t been basically family with the guy: there was something about his aura that was a little to the left, the chittering noise that he usually added to the end of his sentences was diluted, nearly non existent (Virgil assumed it was left over from the Reytin language, like when someone continued to roll their “r’s” in English, but Virgil hadn’t really heard any Reytin at all; Patton didn’t like talking in it.) There was a seriousness to him, to his expression, to how he very obviously wanted Logan in there for this conversation that made Virgil’s own hackles rise with impending panic.

((“Oh kiddo,” Patton said, between cracked and drying lips and taking a step back from him. “What did you do?”))

“There’s not really an easy way to talk about this,” Patton--real, actual, alive-and-not-dying Patton from a dream that meant absolutely nothing to Virgil’s mental state-- said, wringing his three-fingered hands together, kneading his knuckles in a self-soothing motion and Virgil didn’t exactly bite his tongue hard enough to bleed, but the pain forced him to focus. “Uhm, Logie and I were talking and we think that you both might need to, uhm…”

Patton glanced towards Logan for help in his wording and Virgil’s lungs shrivel up and die in his chest because this is it, Virgil’s finally outstayed his welcome, they don’t have the supplies to keep hosting Virgil and Janus, and their means of getting money are exponentially higher when they don’t have to worry about their clients freaking out about there being a Deathworlder, not to mention two of them involved in the action, honestly Virgil should just be happy they dealt with him for this long, he has always been nothing but a murde--

“What Patton means,” Logan cut in, a variety of purple lights trailing down his arms. “Is that we are unsure of how advanced Deathworlder education is about Space.”

“Pardon?” Janus said.

“Rationally speaking, and with no attempted insult here,” Logan said with a tone that usually suggested he was about to be horribly insulting in the way that only Tenekarie can be. “It’s a known fact that Deathworlders aren’t the most tech savvy. Despite theoretically having the resources, the advancements of space travel for your kind is extremely lacking. Coupled with our own experiences in how truly infantile Virgil’s knowledge about the basics of ship navigation and survival on different planets-- both of which are taught before any proper school for my and Patton’s races, and left us rather horrified to acknowledge that you were practically an unfortunately tall toddler--”

“I’m beginning to feel very insulted,” Virgil muttered.

“--It has been brought to our collective attention that the two of you might be completely unaware of Space Time,” Logan finished. The lights around his wrists pulsed a worried tempo of blue yellow and purple. Patton fidgeted at his post, his usual pleasant expression giving way to a more upset one when Virgil and Janus didn’t immediately jump up to reassure them that the words “Space” and “Time” meant something more than what they meant individually.

Janus shifted, uncomfortable in both his skin and in the idea that he might not know everything there is to know in the universe. “What is… Space Time?”

“I attempted to explain this to you, Virgil, but I had the feeling that your Common wasn’t advanced yet for you to grasp the whole meaning,” Logan said. “I will attempt again with small words. Essentially, on the planet TS-001 in the year of Emperor Xiso, there was a Slewcuriz, who discovered that Xiyl based components could be run through a Joznu reduction and then mixed with Lerak, in a one to three Vogin, and Santel in a--”

“I can already tell you that if we had this conversation before I did not understand it,” Virgil said, blandly. “I don’t understand it now.” 

“Just the basics,” Janus suggested. “I would love to listen to the full history lesson at a later point, but it seems your Reytin is about to flee into the vents from nerves.”

Patton let out a chittering squeak when both Virgil and Logan glance towards him. “I’m fine! Really! It’s just….” He sighed, drooping. “Reytins explained Space Time as the concept that Distance is unavoidably linked to Time. Because of this, objects in motion feel time at a slower rate than those that are standing still.”

“What?” Janus asked because he only won a Robotics Competition because his parents paid for the trophy to be handed to him, much like all his other science related achievements.

Virgil, who actually won a Robotics Competition, tilted his head and nodded. “No wait, uh I do know about that. It’s a physics thing; uh… specific relativity? No that’s not right… Special Relativity?” He hummed for a moment before noticing that Janus still looked confused. “It’s like… time travel, kinda. How do I explain this to a non-science person….okay imagine you are on a train, alright? I’m outside the train, by the train tracks, perfectly distanced between two trees. Your train is moving at the speed of light, but at the moment that your train passes by me lightning strikes both trees.”

Virgil mimicked the trees being blown up and Logan looked oddly fascinated by the explanation, as if he were listening to a child's attempt at explaining brain surgery. 

“Okay?” Janus said warily.

“Okay, so I am outside the tracks. I would observe the trees both going up in flames at the same time. Simultaneously. But you, on your totally-real, not-a-safety-hazard train would be moving at light speed towards one tree and away from the other; as a result you would see lightning striking the tree ahead of you first and the one behind you second, with a noticeable difference in time.”

“W-why would that--?”

“Because time is relative, but the speed of light is always the same,” Virgil said.

“That makes no sense to me,” Janus said. “It’s happening at the same time.”

“For me it would. But you would be moving, and therefore your perception of time is super out of whack.”

Janus crossed his arms. “If this is such a big thing why don’t I observe it when I wave to you from down the street? Or when I’m driving a car?”

“The time dilation has to be at literal light speed. I don’t know about you but people who don’t have a silver spoon up their ass usually don’t have cars that go at light speeds.” 

Janus’s expression slipped into something far less amused and he pursed his lips.

“That’s not all there is to it,” Logan cut in before Janus could retort. “But at the very basic level I would assume that is close enough to Space Time. What had Patton and I concerned, is the manner of aging that comes associated with space travel.” 

He straightened his spine and stood slightly taller, like a teacher about to give a lecture. His lower two hands folded behind himself and the upper two brightly flashed yellow and purple twice as if intoning Look at me! Pay attention! There might be a Pop Quiz on this Tomorrow! 

“As you might have figured, part of traveling the vacuum of space is that our ships maintain a speed parallel to that of light. I believe you called it light speed? As such we are on a constant motion that largely outperforms that of any habitable planet. Because of this, we on this ship will experience time at the same rate, but we will be completely isolated from how anyone outside of this ship experiences time.” Logan gave them both a look. “Objects in motion experience time slower than those at a stand still.”

Janus squinted at him. “I feel like you are trying to tell me something.”

“We experience time much slower than those on any planet.”

Janus turned to Virgil, hands raised in a question. Virgil wondered for a moment if this was how Janus always felt when Virgil was asking him to play translator for their notes in Spanish II back before everything ended. Perhaps he should have been paying Janus for his services as both a tutor and the sole reason Virgil didn’t flunk out of his language courses before his junior year with something more than the promise to hold on to a secret and longing dreams he never told anyone about.

“One more time, Lo,” Virgil asked. 

Logan frowned and opened his mouth again, but instead of answering, Patton flipped down from the rafters and landed just a foot away from Virgil. 

“Time passing for the people on your planet will stay the same, Virgil,” Patton said. “But you aren’t there anymore. The time that you and Janus have spent in space, planet hopping at light speed, you think it’s been, like two of your Earth kliansannu, right?”

“Years?” Janus echoed in English.

“Three, actually,” Virgil said, very much not liking where this was headed.

“Three?” Janus said.

“For all we know of your Earth, it could have already been sixteen kliansannu,” Logan explained. “Or larger. Twenty eight? Thirty Two?”

Virgil didn’t know where the sudden sick feeling in his chest came from but he became aware suddenly that it had settled in the hollow of his throat, bloated and twisted and gnarled around his vocal chords. Flashes of Earth flicked in his head: of his parents, of the town, of Earth as he knew it. It hadn’t taken more than a year for the community council to agree to tear down the park playground he liked to hang out at night when he was fifteen; in sixteen years what would be left of the place he knew? Who would be left?

“We can’t possibly have been that lucky,” Janus said, bulldozing straight through the tangled web of realization that caught Virgil with his politician’s son voice. He stood his ground, glaring at Logan as if daring him to fight on this. “You truly believe that so much time has passed on Earth? We were already experimenting with deep space travel before I was abducted; they would have definitely branched out far enough to come in contact with a legitimate alien race by now.”

Logan frowned. “Legitimate?”

“We aren’t bringing this up to start a fight about Deathworlders!” Patton interrupted. “Or to freak either of you out! It’s just…I… didn’t get this option. To go back.” He squeezed his hands into fists. “I wanted to make sure you both have it.”

((Virgil has three plants in his room that glow in the dark, plants that Patton once gave him, plants that make Patton teary-eyed and quiet because they came from a planet that no longer existed.))

“TS-517 got blown up,” Patton said. “I was in a bar with Logan and Roman celebrating one of our first jobs together. I had lost track of Space Time; it was my mother’s birthday and she was waiting for me to come home and I was in a bar thinking I still had three more disannu.” Patton took a deep breath, horribly pained and hurting and telling.

“My entire race, my planet, my home disappeared in an instant. If there is anything,” the Reytin stressed, “that you can think of that you wouldn’t be able to live without ever seeing again…then believe me that’s reason enough to go back to Earth.”

“I have everything I need right here,” Janus said resolutely, confidently, proudly. He took their hands and intertwined their fingers like he was making a promise and Virgil’s inner organs should not have been turning to mush at something so small.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Patton,” Janus said. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that, and that you have to carry that with you now. But there is nothing on the Deathworld that is worth going back for, much less worth having you break the interstellar space codes for.”

“Virgil?” Logan said, with a curiously blank tone that made Virgil feel like both of them just failed a test they hadn’t known they were taking. His lower left hand rested on his belt where his interstellar nook was placed, ready for the next time he needed to do a SpaceGoogle search to figure out what laws they were breaking and figure out how to explain it away to possible Space Cops.

Virgil squeezed Janus’s fingers in his own hand.

“I mean,” Virgil said, with a shrug. “I’m sure there’s a version of Roman’s Shishdouble that tastes like a Wendy’s chicken sandwich if I’m in denial enough?”

That at least got a part of a laugh out of Patton, something sad and a little twisted and mourning people that Virgil would never get to know. Logan was still looking at him, though, his expression a flat slate that made him look more rock-like than normal. The visor over his eyes blocked most of the expression on his face, but Virgil still wasn’t sure what he was searching for.

“I don’t want to go back to Earth,” Virgil said. “Neither of us want to go back to Earth.”

Logan waited another moment, lips pressed together, before he nodded. Whatever decision he had come to, it settled his lights as well, letting them flutter once again with the steady pulsing beat and he let his arm drop away from his nook. “Well, of course, it was just a concern from your crewmates. I had a theory that neither of you were particularly inclined to return, nor did I particularly want to say a definitive goodbye at some point to people who are family to me. Thank you for taking the time to assuage our fears.”

“Aw,” Janus said. “He likes us!”

“You are not hard to like,” Logan said good naturedly. “I look forward to our conversations about Deathworlder culture. They are very enlightening.”

And if that wasn’t a concerning thing to hear, Virgil wasn’t sure what was. He knew Janus well enough to know that he could very maliciously be pixie-leading Logan down the worst pieces of humanity.

But Patton was still uncharacteristically quiet, so Virgil let go of Janus’s hand and knelt down to his height, offering a folded fist, palm up in the familiar motion that Roman often gave Patton.

“Thanks for looking out for us, Pat,” Virgil said. “But if you dropped us off on Earth again, I wouldn’t be able to see you again, and that is something I wouldn’t be able to live without.”

Patton’s large bulging eyes blinked, tearing up slightly and he lunged forward into a hug. Virgil wobbled to keep his balance, but accepted the hug gratefully. 

Sixteen years, twenty eight, thirty two… what did it really matter to him when he had his family right there? Janus was right. There was no reason to go back, there was no reason to want to go back.

If they magically showed back up on Earth, Virgil would still have to fight the accusation that he murdered someone, Janus would have to face the fact that his own parents buried him. Even if they were dropped in like… Turkey or Libya or Nigeria or something, and all they had were each other and the will to start over, Virgil didn’t think he could look up to the sky and not ache to see the warp core of the Mindscape’s engines, the weird fauna on hundreds of different planets, the way a planet with seven moons or three suns looks from the surface. 

 Patton squeezed him gently again, and Virgil was careful that he kept his Deathworlder strength in check for the return. Patton stepped back, making another chittering noise that sounded much more like him.

“Well!” He said far brighter and much more like himself. “I’m glad you kiddos have everything figured out! I didn’t have nearly the same focus when I was first starting out on my journey!”

“Deathworlder perks,” Janus said, with a smile even though that was not even remotely true and by the look on Logan’s face he knew that as well and was baffled by his Deathworlder expert blatantly lying.

“So….if that’s all figured out,” Virgil said, innocently, running the edge of a half bitten nail against his other finger. He turned towards Janus again, half of a crooked grin on his face.

 "Kenobi?"

And faster than any space storm, than any meteorite crashing into earth, any star exploding, or blackhole imploding, Janus's face twisted into one of rage and he snatched a pillow from the ground and threw it at Virgil.

It was a matter of mere luck that Virgil managed to duck in time; the force of it alone as it tore past Virgil told him that he would have been sporting bruises for at least a solid day. Patton on the other hand yelped and jumped up, clearing easily overwhere the pillow landed at his feet, and clung upside down to the rafters.

"Patton!" Janus snapped. "Be a dear and shove that down his throat will you?"

"HEY, whoa!" Virgil said, backing up. "That's two against one and that's not fair!"

"Were you not the one who called me a bully? Since when do bullies fight fair?"

"Did someone say fair fight?" Roman asked in what is possibly the best timing the Erefren has ever had. He appeared in the doorway from the main hall, hair still wet from the shower he’d been taking, but otherwise looking pleased to see them all. "Who are we fighting?"

"Virgil!"

"Janus!"

Roman grinned in a way that Virgil suspected he picked up solely from hanging around Virgil too much-- curved and pleasant where Erefren customs were mostly teeth barring-- and Virgil knew that he was in trouble. The red spiky tail curled around the pillow and tossed it into his hands and Roman stared down Virgil with all the vengeance of a pissed off stegosaurus.

"For my shishbouble!" He said. 

Virgil yelped, scooting out of the way of Roman's attack just to be brained by Janus's. His fingers wrapped around the pillow before Janus could yank it back again and with a sharp tug he freed it from its commander and held it up to block the shot from Patton.

“This is in no way fair!” Virgil cried out. “Logan!”

“Do not involve me in this,” Logan suggested. “I believe this is the figurative “reaping of what you’ve sown”. Janus, did I use that phrase correctly?”

“Perfectly!” Janus said right before he slammed another pillow at Virgil’s face. 

“Fucking Disney,” another voice called from the doorway. “You fucks better be actually killing each other with all this fucking noise!”

The battle slowed for a moment, enough that Virgil was able to actually form a single coherent thought in the space between where Janus had aborted his attack and Roman had ditched his plan to swipe Virgil’s feet from under him and put him in a blanket coated, pillow shaped coffin. 

Remus stood in the doorway, looking very much like he’d been through every other room in the ship searching for alcohol and been unsuccessful. His hair was a mess in the way that suggested he did not care about it at all, his outfit ruffled from being the only thing he’s been seen wearing since he arrived on this ship (despite Roman having offered him other clothes). The dark circle under his eyes spoke in volumes to the amount of sleep that he’d had recently which Virgil has the sneaking suspicion was equal to the amount that Virgil has had since their “talk” in the Transporter Room.

“Remus is on my team!” Virgil yelled out and he slammed a pillow into Roman’s spluttering surprised face. 

“He is?” Roman asked.

“I am?” Remus echoed possibly more confused than he should have been.

But Janus shrugged and took a swing at Remus with his pillow and the next moment was a flurry of pillows flying around the room. Patton swung up to the rafters again and dropped his pillows like bombs from the sky, and Virgil managed to get Roman tangled in a blanket, but it left him open for Janus knocking him on the back of the head. Remus laughed when Virgil hit the ground, dazed and confused and unsure what day of the alien week it was, but the Erefren did at least throw a pillow at Janus’s stomach.

Remus and Janus exchanged blows like a complicated dance until Virgil tossed Roman’s pillow at Janus’s feet to trip him up and he ended up caught directly in Remus’s arms.

“Hostage!” Remus declared, swinging Janus in front of him like a human shield against Patton and Roman. Virgil took the opening as an invitation and skidded behind Remus and his very beautiful meat shield. “You wouldn’t hit your teammate!”

Roman looked righteously scandalized by the suggestion. “You bastard! He’s just a child!”

“Coward!” Janus called. “Also I’m eighteen!”

“Is that not a child for Deathworlders?” Logan asked pleasantly, from his spot on the couch, unbothered by the mess they had created in the warzone around him.

"Technically it's an adult," Virgil said.

"A baby!" Roman said again, distressed in the way that came only from being aware of the type of shit Virgil would get into if left to his own devices in his lab for too long. Virgil suspected that they drew straws every time one of them needed to come remind him that he needed to eat, considering that the last time he’d gotten involved in a project he’d nearly shish-kabobed Logan coming into the room at the wrong moment.

Remus rolled his eyes. "We are barely older than him! Even Happy Pappy Pancake over there is basically the same age in Reytin klainsannu!"

Virgil sat up suddenly turning towards Logan with a dawning realization in his mind. "Wait, wait-- you guys are like barely teenagers?"

"He means teenagers," Janus cut in.

Virgil frowned. "That's what I said."

Janus gave him a look that sends Virgil directly back in time to Spanish II, without passing go or collecting the 200 apologies from various parties that he's owed because Janus is alive and well and still an asshole and Virgil is very much in love with him and still can't pronounce things correctly. Apparently.

Logan pondered the question for another moment. "I suppose…yes I believe that is accurate. For all our species we are considered the hypothetical ages between being a child that needs a guardian to look after them and being a guardian capable of looking after themselves. Although Patton undoubtedly has been alive for more kliansannu than all of us put together."

"And we're just…. roaming around the galaxies?" Virgil said. 

Patton laughed with his eyes glowing as if he hadn’t almost been in tears just a little bit ago. He flipped from a rafter to Roman’s back, and the Erefren caught him easily before he impaled himself on the spikes. It never failed to amaze Virgil at how well they knew each other’s movements; Roman didn’t even so much as have to shift his weight at the sudden frog-like creature clinging to him.

"Okay hear me out: We are essentially a bunch of kids on a road trip across the country," Virgil started and Janus groaned so loudly Remus loosened his hold slightly. 

“Do not start on that!”

“This is a Coming Of Age story, gross! We swore we were not going to do that--”

“I do not understand the nuance here,” Logan commented, ever curious and his two lower hands reaching for his nook to document this new information. “Is this a Deathworlder cultural rite?”

“Who cares,” Remus cut in boredly. “Are we fighting or not? I have things to do!”

Roman huffed. “What do you have to do? You’re a guest on my ship!”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Not forever, bitch. I’m off when we touch down on TS-625. I’ve got business with some… people in the city.”

((“They-- They trusted me and… I got my entire fucking crew killed brutually and I have to find and inform their families that they won’t be returning. Ever.”))

Virgil didn’t exactly drop like a solid bowling ball had slammed into him obliterating at least three of his internal organs, but it was a near thing. Remus’s expression didn’t betray a single bit of what his business with people in the city might be, or how terrible it was going to be to be alone again. Virgil didn’t doubt that Remus had dipped his hands into the worst things that could be done out in Space, that Remus hadn’t perpetuated half of the terrible things that left most other races terrified of Erefrens, but for all his resources, all his brutal fighting, all his ship maintenance knowledge, Virgil was struck by the sudden feeling that if Remus walked off this ship when they landed alone, none of them would ever see him again.

Oath of Brothers or not, Remus would not call out again if he needed help. Past crewmate or not, Remus would not ask Janus to join him. Hatred for Virgil or not, Remus would not come back to haunt them like a vengeful ghoul.

He’d disappear entirely, without even a goodbye.

Virgil wasn’t sure why that thought suddenly made him feel so incredibly wrong.

“The offer still stands,” Virgil blurted out, and Remus blinked as if he had forgotten Virgil was next to him.

“Offer?” Patton asked, tilting his head and blinking his bug eyes. Virgil wasn’t sure what emotions exactly Patton would be seeing off the two of them, or if Patton could see any with Janus blocking most of Remus’s body. He was sure they would probably be concerning at the very least; Virgil’s could be chalked up to something like badbadbadreallybad and Remus was…. Remus.

The Erefren looked at him, up and down, as if mentally trying to calculate how much money he could get for Virgil’s corpse on the Black Market. “I don’t need your help, Viagra.”

“I didn’t teach him that one!” Janus said, but honestly….Virgil had been called worse before by people he respected far more.

“I know you don’t need it,” Virgil shrugged. “That doesn’t mean it couldn’t help to have help anyway.” 

(He pretended like he didn’t see Logan, Roman, and Patton exchange a very obvious, very flabbergasted look between the three of them.)

“Alright,” Remus said, part of his lips curling into a begrudging sharpened grin and his tail swaying dangerously close to where Virgil was hovering, ever a threat. “Your funeral, Deathworlder.”

“I’m so happy for both of you making friends,” Janus said in that tone of voice of his that usually meant he was about to remind the teacher of the homework that they were supposed to do the night before, that only he actually completed. Remus’s face flickered with panic, but he was a second too late reacting to it before Janus drove his heel directly into the Erefren’s shin hard enough to cause him to lose what remained of his grip on his hostage. 

Remus cursed in at least three languages and drowned out Patton’s responding chastisement with a particularly loud shout of where Patton could shove his manners. Janus laughed, grabbing a pillow from next to Logan while Roman declared his brother free Pillow Beatdown Real Estate.

Virgil yelped when Janus locked his eyes on him with a vicious gaze. He raised a blanket as a shield to block the pillow, but Janus just tackled him to the ground instead. They twisted around for a minsannu before Virgil found himself pinned right under Janus with no escape. 

“I win,” Janus declared and the two of them paused to catch their breath as they watched Remus flatten Roman’s face with his own pillow that was concerningly close to an actual smothering attempt. Logan attempted to break it up, only to have both the Erefrens smack him with their pillows at the same time, hard enough to knock him back onto the couch, dazed. Patton swung down from the rafters and knocked Remus actually onto the ground with a pillow to the stomach, and his string of apologies was lost under the sound of Roman’s laughter. 

“So,” Janus said quietly, almost lost under the chaos of all the noise if he wasn’t curled up right on top of Virgil. “You guys didn’t talk about anything important at all?”

“Friendly conversation, between friendly people,” Virgil repeated. “Besides, it’s just TS-625. What’s the worst that could happen?”

[faulty-writes]

Heyy!

I saw u had tensei on ur masterlist, could you write some fluff for him?

It's fine if not!

Ah, my second favorite Iida boy. He needs more love. 

[ Working for your longtime friend and love interest had its perks, and despite facing the challenges of being the only support agent at Idaten. Things get a little strange when Tensei requests you remove the airbags from his hero suit and while you refuse to go through with it. Tensei continues to try and persuade you, in his own strange way. ]

Your steps were rushed, echoing against the pavement as you ran past the sidekicks of Team Idaten. The street lights illuminating the area as well as the stars above that seemed to sparkle in conjunction with the moon. If you weren’t so panicked at the moment, you might have stopped to enjoy the view.

But knowing that Ingenium was possibly injured had you rushing to his rescue even if you were just a support agent who mainly crafted weapons and repaired everyone's hero suits. But Ingenium or Tensei as you knew him, was one of the most important people to you. There was a history that most already knew between yourself and the tubro hero, being that you went to U.A. together.

He was in the hero course, no surprise there while you were placed in the Department of Support. Being rather intuitive and creative, you would always make inventions that others found strange or too dangerous. Often belittling you to stick to basic support items rather than put your own style to them.

It was a little discouraging until a certain boy walked into the Development Studio and requested your help on his hero suit. That boy turned out to be Tensei who since then always encouraged your talent, despite being subjected to many of your malfunctioning inventions.

He was always your source of encouragement and you two were quick to become friends, that is until third year approached and you were nearing graduation. Tensei was full of inspiring ideas himself, one of which was creating an agency completely run by sidekicks who would work alongside each other and form teams depending on their specialty.

Most thought his idea was ridiculous. After all, who would want to be put in charge of a bunch of sidekicks when you could be the boss and rule over your own agency however you wanted? You didn't appreciate when people made fun of Tensei, considering you thought it was an amazing idea.

But, it also brought you a sense of sadness. You dreaded being separated from the soon-to-be pro hero. You knew you should have given Tensei more credit than that, considering he wasn’t someone that could easily let other's go, and to your surprise after graduation. He offered you a position at his future agency.

Stating that your talent would be useful in helping create weapons and suits for the future sidekicks that he would employ. True to his word, he slowly built the Idaten Agency from the ground up. Granted, he had plenty of help from his family.

But even so, you didn’t leave his side. In fact, you helped recruit some of the sidekicks that still proudly stood by Ingenium’s side. However, at times you wondered if Tensei realized just how much he meant to the Idaten Agency, how much he meant to you.

Your feelings for him seemed so obvious, but you often tried to make excuses for why Tensei didn’t catch onto them. The most common of which was the fact that he was solely focused on his hero work and always trying to bring his best forward.

Still, you were surprised that he didn’t hear how loud your heart was when you were alone with him or how flushed your cheeks got when he leaned in too close. You weren’t sure when these feelings for Tensei began, at first you were in denial. Believing what you felt was just a misplaced feeling of gratitude, but as the months went by and your feelings grew.

Maybe it was safer to say somewhere along the lines you had fallen in love with the turbo hero and love, as they say, made you do stupid things. “Tensei!” you cried as you finally spotted him and dropped to your knees, worry clear across your face as you took in how he looked.

A faint amount of blood dripped from the side of his head and his hair looked disheveled. The airbags that he requested you to install into the shoulder components of his hero suit had gone off, deflated among the rubble that he had caused when he ran into a brick wall.

You could make out a few cracks and loose panels in his suit. The eyepiece of his helmet was broken, laying on the ground by his side. You slowly reached up to brush your fingers along the sides of his face before moving his head so he was looking at you.

“Hey Y/n!” he chirped, his happy and uplifting mood unphased by the small accident he had gotten himself into. You let out a sigh of relief and dropped your hands from his face. “Tensei…” you said before letting your head drop and tried to take a deep breath to calm your racing heart.

You heard him move his arm, the metal pieces of his suit clinking together which made you raise your head once more. Then a gasp escaped as you felt the soft fabric of his gloved hand against your cheek which started to grow warm as you looked him in the eye.

You noticed there was dirt on his cheeks and part of the exposed skin of his neck. Apart from the blood dripping down the side of his head, he seemed otherwise unharmed. “Sorry about that, I guess I worried you. Huh?” you narrowed your eyes and glanced to the side, muttering a “You could say that,” in response which caused the hero to frown.

His thumb gently brushed against the side of your cheek which caused you to turn your attention back to him. Looking into those dark-colored eyes seemed to put you at ease, “Please don’t scare me like that again,” you said before reaching up to take his hand, pulling it away from your face before you leaned close to embrace him.

He looked surprised by the hug, his mouth falling open a moment before it softened and a smile came. This was followed by his arms wrapping around you, and a sigh of relief seemed to escape the two of you before you pulled away and leaned your hand against his shoulder.

“Let me help you up,” you insisted as you slid your arm behind his back, allowing him to place his across your shoulders. Buckling your legs, you pushed the two of you up. It was a little difficult because of the deflated airbags but as soon as you made it back to the Idaten Agency.

Tensei’s minor injuries were patched up and you promptly requested his presence after. Tensei had taken the opportunity to transform one of the floors of the Idaten Agency into a workshop for you, similar to the Development Studio. Everything you needed you had at your fingertips, including an examination table which Tensei was currently sitting on.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” he began as you continued to look over the chest piece of his suit from your worktable. Your feet propped up against the wooden poles that made up the bottom of the stool you sat on and your fingers brushed over the small dents that you found in the hunk of metal.

The rest of the pieces that made up his hero suit were sitting in boxes, waiting to be repaired piece by piece. “Hm?” you glanced up, pausing in your movements. So many things were going through your mind, but more than anything you were worried about Tensei’s well-being.

Despite the fact that the only real injuries he had were the small cut on his forehead and his scraped-up cheek. You were worried that something worse might happen to him next time and you were rattling your brain to try and come up with a solution that would allow Tensei to take turns even at his top speed. It was tricky, near impossible actually.

But the man in question was very effective in shattering your thoughts when his voice broke through, “I want to remove my airbags completely,” you were thankful you were sitting, else your legs might have gotten too weak and to the floor, you’d go.

You looked at him with your eyebrow raised and your mouth slightly parted. Processing his words for a moment before you responded, “What?” you questioned as you leaned over the table, “I said-” you interrupted him. “No, I...I heard what you said Tensei,” you replied in clear disbelief and minor shock. How can he want to make that decision after what just happened?

“I...you can’t remove your airbags! If you take another hit like that without them, it'll be too danger-” your words came to a halt when Tensei got up from where he was sitting and walked over to you. Placing his hands on the table, he wore a smile as he invaded your space by leaning forward.

Hovering over the chest piece you were currently fiddling with. It made you a little nervous if you were being honest with yourself and you couldn’t help but stare into his eyes. Tensei had always been, in your opinion, handsome. Short messy hair that accompanied those unique shaped eyebrows of his, dark-colored eyes, and sharp square jaw.

All topped off with a smile that could light up a room, he was the ideal boyfriend-type, and while he was adored as a Pro Hero. Part of you was surprised that no one seemed to catch Tensei’s interest. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hands gently skim over yours.

You glanced down, watching as Tensei then grabbed your hands that were previously preoccupied. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks and you half prayed that Tensei wouldn’t notice the fact they were turning pink.

But you knew you couldn’t move away. Without trying, Tensei Iida was keeping you right where he wanted you. “I know,” he replied in his familiar cheerful tone and you watched his pupils move ever so slightly, and yours mimicked the movement.

“But I can’t hold the team back, I know I've always had a hard time taking turns even at my lowest speed,” despite your flushed cheeks, you frowned. You knew it was near impossible for Tensei to turn when using his quirk, especially with the speed he could reach.

But you refused to allow him to put himself in danger, yet you knew no matter what Tensei was going to do so willingly. “That’s why I put trust in my teammates, they aren't just sidekicks to be used. They’re heroes I look up to,” he gently ran his thumb across the back of your hand.

Tensei’s touch was so delicate, it was hard to believe some villains thought him to be intimidating. “I trust you with my hero suit and to make the right choices even if you don’t think it’s good for me,” you latched onto your lip and glanced down, the soft hum of the air vents above you filling the silence.

“But a hero doesn’t always have time to think about what’s rational, speed and timing is everything. If something slows me down, that means I lose seconds to save someone,” your eyebrows furrowed together, a suspicious glance in your eye.

“Tensei...are you trying to guilt me?” you questioned and felt his hands immediately release yours so he could hold them up in a surrender-type fashion. “Not at all!” he exclaimed before giving you a smile, but you knew better than to fall for it. “It’s too dangerous,” you said before getting back to work, missing the way Tensei’s lips curled up.

His eyebrows furrowed as if he were trying to figure out a way to convince you, “Ah, hey!” you exclaimed as you fell forward onto the examination table, glaring up at Tensei who now held the chest piece you were previously leaning on. A chuckle left his lips, however, and you assumed he thought what he had just done was funny.

“Sorry,” he said, “I guess I couldn’t resist,” you rolled your eyes before pushing yourself up and slowly sliding off your stool. Walking over to one of the many boxes scattered across the floor, you looked around a moment before finding what you wanted.

A groan sounded as you lifted the shoulder piece of his suit out of the chosen box, the extra weight coming from the deflated airbag that still hung from it. Meanwhile, Tensei was busy staring at his reflection in the white paint of the chest piece he was holding.

“So, you really repair all these pieces separately huh?” he questioned just as you placed the shoulder piece onto the table, quickly grabbing a screwdriver so you could remove the deflated airbag and replace it with a new one.

“Yeah,” you replied as you began unscrewing the bolts around the airbag. “Wouldn’t it be easier to put the suit together and repair it that way?” it was almost cute how clueless he was about support equipment, still he was technically your boss and you owed him an answer.

“No, every little detail of a hero suit is taken into account and focused on with the utmost attention. I have to ensure every single separate piece works properly before bringing it together as a whole,” you finished unscrewing the bolts and placed them to the side before carelessly tossing the spent airbag to the floor.

Tensei looked away from the chest piece, watching as said airbag hit the floor. “Hm…” he stood there a moment, trying to think of how else to convince you to do what he wanted. Not that he was controlling, by any means. Rather, he was focused on finding a solution that would best help his team as a whole.

He walked back over to the table and placed the chest piece down, once again catching your attention. You lifted your head, “Are you sure there isn’t a way I can convince you?” he questioned, “I know it worries you, but-” you shook your head and once again slid off your stool.

“Oh no,” you replied as you walked over to him and poked his chest, “Hm?” he looked down at your finger before glancing back at you. “You know better than to try and bribe me,” you narrowed your eyes and Tensei let out a sigh before glancing at the ceiling, his lips perched up once more.

“Hm,” you gave a little victory smirk before turning back to the table, deciding that standing was a better option when around Tensei. You quickly examined the shoulder piece before walking over to the opposite side of the room where all your tools were on display. Hanging in an organized fashion on the wall.

Tensei watched you, he knew he was lucky to have someone like you working at his agency, and thinking back, he was surprised you had agreed to join him. Back then, it seemed like you were the only one who truly believed in him. His family had been in the hero business for generations sure, and he felt like he had become a hero more out of expectation than sheer need or want.

“Ah, there it is,” you said as you grabbed the tool you were looking for before you walked to another wall which was made up of various baskets. Each one holding a piece or item you might need. Carefully, you searched for another airbag, and once you found it. You walked back to your work table, laying both items down much to Tensei’s disappointment.

He reached up, running his hand through his hair but he was careful not to touch the gauze pad that was taped over the cut he had received. He was still determined to convince you not to reinstall the airbags of his suit. He stepped forward, “Are you sure there-” you interrupted him yet again, looking at him from over your shoulder with a small glare.

“Yes,” you replied before you resumed fiddling with the new airbag, trying to snap it into place, and Tensei felt as though he were running out of time. “Please?” he spoke sweetly as he walked behind you, looming over your shoulder as you continued to work. “No,” you said before reaching over to grab your screwdriver.

However, Tensei’s hand clasped around yours seconds later. You blinked and leaned to the side, “Tensei...” an awkward tension began to fill the air. “I can handle the screwdriver by myself,” you tugged on it once more, trying to make Tensei catch the hint you wanted him to let go.

But his fingers remained wrapped partly around yours and the rubber handle. “Heh,” he gave a sheepish grin and you jerked your arm back, successfully making the man release his grip. You gave another victory smirk before you reached over to pick up one of the many screws you had taken out and aligned it properly before getting back to work.

The fact that Tensei remained looming over your shoulder was a little nerve-racking, not only could you hear his breathing. You could also feel it against the back of your ear. You paused a moment, glancing back as if waiting for him to move. But you should have known better, while Tensei was respectful in many ways.

He seemed to hold some type of persistence when it came to certain things and while you already stated you wouldn’t do as he wanted. You had the feeling neither of you would be leaving the workshop until you came to an agreement. “I’ve always admired your talent,” he began, making you pause yet again.

“Um...thank you, Tensei,” you replied before continuing to turn the handle of the screwdriver. That’s when you heard a soft slap against the table and turned your head yet again. Tensei was now leaning over the table, his arm outstretched and fingers just barely touching the chest plate that was still preoccupying space.

He had another smile on his face and oddly enough, you couldn’t help but return it. “How long does it take to install a new airbag?” he questioned, and for a moment you wondered if he was purposely trying to distract you. You took a deep breath and placed the screwdriver down before bringing your hand to your hip.

You then turned to face Tensei, shooting him a soft glare which he seemed to notice and glanced away with a pout. “I was just wondering,” he said as he reached up to ruffle the back of his hair, “I’d hate to be taking up your time,” you chuckled at his words.

“You’re taking up my time by distracting me,” you replied before crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not removing your-” Tensei interrupted you. “Nothing will stop me from being a hero,” he stated and you lowered your arms a bit, “including airbags,” you wondered if he was trying to start an argument with you, then again Tensei wasn’t much of the argumentative type.

You took a deep breath, letting out a sigh. Then you lowered your head, “I know,” you muttered before you turned back to the worktable. Taking a moment to stare at the shoulder piece and the airbag that currently only had half a screw to keep it in place. You lowered your eyebrows, it was clear that you were worried more about Tensei’s well-being than he was himself.

But once again you were reminded that’s how Tensei was, always focused on doing good for others. Always willing to throw himself into danger if it meant he could save someone, but you couldn’t help but feel like this time was different. You were being directly involved, being asked to remove something you had installed into his hero suit for his own protection.

Your thoughts were broken when you felt two arms wrap around you, “Ah!” you gasped, not having expected the contact or the way you were pulled back against Tensei’s chest. Then came the pressure of his head against yours and the heat immediately rose in your cheeks, coloring them a soft pink.

You flexed your arms slightly, almost as if you were trying to break his hold on you. “T-Tensei what are…” your words trailed off when you felt him nuzzle against you causing a soft noise to pass your lips. “I know you're worried,” he began yet again and though your face was currently on fire, you raised your eyebrow.

But unlike before, you didn’t interrupt him. “But I would never do anything that risks losing you,” your eyebrows shot up and your eyes widened, “and I can’t risk losing anyone else, a hero proudly makes sacrifices,” he said before he leaned back up and reached over to take delicate hold of your chin.

Once again a soft noise escaped you as Tensei gently tilted your head to the side and leaned over. You could hear your heart echo in your ears as you stared into his eyes. Somehow Tensei always made it so you felt like the only person in the room, even if at the moment you technically were the only other person in the room.

He then brought that hand up to cup your cheek, still keeping one arm wrapped around you. All hope of Tensei not noticing your scolding hot cheeks was effectively thrown out the window at that moment. “Will you be my hero? You kind of always were,” his thumb grazed across your cheek and you took a deep breath.

“I...I’m your...hero?” you repeated, clear disbelief in your voice, and Tensei nodded in response. Your eyelids lowered before you glanced at the airbag you were currently trying to install, you felt his hand lower. Once more both of his arms were around your waist. You struggled for a moment, internally debating about what you truly wanted to do.

Tensei’s safety was your number one priority, but his friends and loved ones, and all those civilians that counted on him to be at his best came first to him. You hung your head in defeat, missing the small smirk that came to Tensei’s face as he knew he finally convinced you.

When you opened your mouth to speak, your words were suddenly rendered to nothing but a pathetic squeak. The reason behind the obnoxious noise was Tensei’s warm lips against the top of your head. He allowed them to linger there, buried against your hair before he finally pulled back.

You swallowed, not having realized how dry your mouth had gotten. But, you slowly turned and Tensei, in turn, momentarily dropped his arms from around you. However, his hands came to rest on your hips when you were finally facing each other.

You didn’t mind his touch and reached down, placing your hands on his forearms. A smile was exchanged between the two of you before Tensei leaned close once more. “Eep,” another noise escaped you and Tensei chuckled, though he kept any comments to himself.

Except for one, “Thank you,” he said as he rested his forehead against yours. “Heh,” you responded, trying to suppress the nervous chuckle that threatened to pass your lips. “You’re welcome, Ingenium.”

[onewfantaesy]

I don't know if you want to jump forward this far in time yet but how does Jinki respond to seeing Taemin after being discharged from the military? I would image the combo of not seeing Taemin everyday and Taemin seemingly getting worse while he and the others were gone would make it a bit of a shock for him. I love your writing!

(tw: ed) (this was actually gonna be my next installment anyway lol so good call anon!)

On his first Wednesday back, Jinki knocks on Taemin’s door, rings the bell, but gets no answer. He knows he’s home, knows he has no schedules today, he had checked with a manager. He had wanted to surprise Taemin with lunch, had bags in his hands that felt heavier the longer he waited. He ended up just punching in the code to Taemin’s door and walking through.

He couldn’t believe what he saw.

Everything is dark and it smells like stale vomit and lemon-scented disinfectant. Several open bags of low-calorie popcorn spilling all over the kitchen, six cases of Diet Coke and two that are empty and sitting by the trash can, so many rice cakes, Oreos, cookies, chocopies, and the stench of rotten fruits and vegetables and moldy cheese coming from the fridge. When he opens it, he almost gags, and there’s another half-empty case of Diet Coke inside. So much kimchi. An entire row of different flavors of barbecue sauce, and three zero-calorie syrups. What’s with all this? Is Taemin out of town? Where would he go? Why is there so much Diet Coke?

Then he sees it. On the wall. A whiteboard with a weekly schedule and Taemin’s handwriting staring back at him.

Sunday: fasting ✔️

Monday: fasting ✔️

Tuesday: fasting 6 blueberries ❌

Wednesday: 200 calories

Thursday: 500 calories

Friday: fasting

Saturday: 800 calories

Jinki can’t wrap his head around it, especially when he sees written on the bottom in Taemin’s sloppy writing:

Goal Weight: 100lbs

DONT FUCK THIS UP FOR US

Go 100 u dumb bitch

Jinki’s head is spinning, and he puts the food down on the kitchen counter and puts a hand on his forehead. A hundred pounds. Taemin wants to be a hundred pounds. He’s five-foot-nine and wants to be a hundred pounds. Is this why SuperM’s new song is called 100? Have they all been told to get down to 100 pounds? Is that why all the food in his fridge is rotten?

“Taemin?” Jinki calls, his voice cracking. “Taemin!”

He hears a muffled groan and a loud thump from Taemin’s bedroom, and he runs in there and sees Taemin fighting with his bedding, bleary eyed and dazed looking.

“Taemin?” Jinki’s voice is breathless, and Taemin’s head snaps towards him.

“Jinki?” Taemin asks, his voice soft and cracking and confused. Then he stumbles and untangles himself from his bedding and shoots up to hug him. “Jinki! You’re home!”

Jinki doesn’t miss the way Taemin sways in his arms, doesn’t miss the way bones are poking out from underneath too-large clothes, doesn’t miss the way Taemin’s legs buckle underneath him and Jinki has to hold on tight to keep him from falling.

“I’ve got you,” Jinki says softly.

“I know,” Taemin whispers against Jinki’s chest, leaning heavily against him. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Jinki says, his voice wavering. “Taemin?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me,” Jinki starts, unsure of how to continue. “Tell me what happened in your kitchen.”

He hears the way Taemin’s breath hitches, feels the way Taemin shakes in his arms. Notices the way Taemin’s room is a complete mess, things thrown everywhere, clothes strewn about. Hadn’t missed the scale in the corner of the room, nor had he missed the one in the living room near the kitchen.

“It’s just messy,” he mumbles in a weak voice. “I’ve been - busy?”

“Are you telling me, or asking me?”

That’s a phrase he’s used on Taemin for a long time. When he knows Taemin’s lying to him. When he knows Taemin knows that it won’t work.

“What’s wrong with it?” Taemin whines. “No one else lives here, who cares if it’s messy?”

“Your food is all rotten,” Jinki says carefully. “It smells, Taemin. Do you not smell it?”

Taemin breathing is shaky and shuddering, so Jinki guides him out of the room, practically carrying him really, and he sits Taemin at the kitchen counter. Taemin looks uncomfortable, looks scared, especially when he sees the takeout a few inches away from him.

“I didn’t-” Taemin stutters. “I’ve been - it wasn’t gross yesterday.”

Jinki only raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Taemin won’t budge. Not now. They’ll get to it later.

“What’s this?” He asks softly, pointing at the whiteboard.

Taemin completely freezes, his eyes unmoving from the whiteboard in the wall. It’s a very long, very tense, very quiet moment between the two of them.

“New diet plan?” Taemin suggests in a timid voice. “For my comeback?”

“No dietician in their right mind would tell you to do this,” Jinki says with a shaking voice. “Did someone tell you to do this? Did someone at work tell you to do this?”

Taemin’s heart is beating too fast and his head is spinning and his mouth feels dry. He’s hungry. He’s fucking starving and his stomach is twisting but he wants to vomit everywhere.

“Did someone tell you that you have to be a hundred pounds? Who put this idea in your head?”

Taemin is shaking his head and he can’t believe this, he can’t believe he was so careless, can’t believe he actually left this shit out for anyone to see, what was he thinking?

You wanted someone to see, the voice snarls. Traitor. Attention whore.

“No,” Taemin whispers, and he had been talking to the voice, but Jinki thinks it’s directed at him.

“Then why?” he asks, his voice as gentle as possible as he sits next to Taemin and takes his hands. Taemin pulls away, even though he wants Jinki to hold him, because he hates his fingers and doesn’t want Jinki to feel how fat they are. “Taemin?”

“Can we not,” he stutters. “Can we not do this? Please?”

“I want you to come stay with me,” Jinki says then, and Taemin’s head shoots up. “Please? I’ve missed you, I want you close.”

“Okay.”

“I brought lunch for us,” Jinki says gently, pulling the food over. “Will you eat with me?”

Taemin looks terrified. He’s shaking his head and biting the insides of his cheeks and sucking in shuddering breaths. Jinki grabs one of his hands and doesn’t let him pull it back.

“We can split one,” Jinki suggests. “If that’s easier?”

“Maybe,” Taemin whispers, biting his lip as Jinki opens one of the containers. “Maybe just a bite.”

“Just a bite.”

Taemin’s shaking doesn’t subside as Jinki holds chopsticks out in front of Taemin’s lips to feed him. Taemin’s mouth waters, the smell is intoxicating, and his lips part so slow to take the bite that Jinki almost thinks he’ll turn away and refuse. But he eats it, lets Jinki feed him a couple more bites before he’s scooting closer, practically on Jinki’s lap with his own chopsticks in his hands and shoveling food into his mouth.

“Slow down,” Jinki says gently. “You’ll get sick.”

Taemin stops then, a noodle hanging between his lips and his chopsticks, and the way he looks at Jinki is all Jinki needed to know.

He knows then that Taemin’s no stranger to making himself puke up a meal. It makes Jinki’s heart stop, makes him wonder just how long this has been going on, how long he’s been too stupid to notice. How long as he let Taemin hurt so much by himself?

Taemin drops his chopsticks and sucks in a deep breath. Jinki keeps a hand on his back, rubbing circles in what he hopes is a comforting manner. It ends with Taemin diving to his chest, burying his face in Jinki’s neck.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jinki tells him, hugging him tight. “Together. You don’t have to deal with it on your own.”

“I missed you so much,” Taemin cries, his shoulders shaking as the tears start falling. “Can we - can we leave? I hate being here.”

“Lets go,” Jinki says, pulling Taemin up. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“I know.”

[artemismoon12writes]

Title: Things Went Awry

Daltonfic Big Bang: Week 9, Day 1; Dwight/?  Based on that bit in Dalton where Dwight basically is like... yo Shane is hot. 

---

The two kissed, fighting between them for who was going to be pressed up against the wall. A gasp. A pair of hands on a belt buckle, jangling in the quiet room away from the hustle and bustle of Windsor House.

Dwight broke away, worry mixed in with his usual hint of panic, “This isn’t right, Reed will kill me.”

“He broke up with me.”

“Yeah but-”

“I said, he broke up with me. We’re not together. He doesn’t get to be mad if I get with someone else.” Shane stressed, not letting it bother him. It did. Obviously. Otherwise he and Dwight would not even be having this conversation, let alone be holed up in Shane’s room like they’d be caught any second.

Shane leaned into kiss Dwight again, but he was pushed away.

“His mom is stressing him out and got to him. Give him a week.” Dwight argued. “Just because he’s graduated and he’s not here doesn’t mean we should… fuck, what are we doing?”

“Uh, having fun?” Shane said, grinning wildly.

Dwight bit his tongue, annoyed. He knew it was wrong, even as his stomach turned and he wanted to give into the manic energy Shane was giving off, he had to at least try- even if it was just to assuage his conscious.  

It’d been two weeks since Reed had broken up with Shane; and one week since Shane had relentlessly been pursuing anything that walked into Windsor House as a kind of mourning ritual since Reed was not returning his calls. Anyone with sense could guess Hilde Van Kamp had forced his hand, but Shane wasn’t sharing what was in those emails that had him throwing his phone against the wall. Whatever it was, Shane was broken up enough to be dragging their ignoble prefect into his quest for a rebound.

Shane shrugged. “I’m bored. You’re horny, it’s a perfect match.”

“I am not-”

“Oh fuck off.” Shane said, pressing Dwight back up against the door, hands in his pants. Dwight couldn’t hide the gasp he made. “You’re into this. What was it you said last time we all had a party- ‘oh Shane, if you were a girl’- that’s a lie. I’m fine just as a boy.”

“That was Todd’s scotch talking, not me.” Dwight’s face coloured. Shane took advantage, leaning in further.

“Sure it was. And you haven’t had a giant bon-”

“You’re stupid, that’s what.” Dwight interrupted.

“Then you’re just as dumb as I am.” Shane said, He didn’t have a leg to stand on about the whining given Shane’s hands were already in his pants, but he had to somehow pretend this might not become a thing.

He didn’t let Shane insult him again. He proved Shane’s point though when he flipped them, Shane’s back to the wall; pinning him with height and weight advantage, even if Shane’s wirey dance muscles could have easily sidestepped the move. They both could avoid this obvious dancing around it if they wanted to; token protests aside, it was a bad decision on both ends, one that could only end badly.

Maybe Shane could have called his ex; gone that way. Maybe Dwight could have not stepped in earlier when Shane was hitting on Baldwin excessively. It would have required a little less impulsivity. Neither were really good at decision making.

They didn’t get any comments about Dwight emerging from Shane’s room later; hair tied back and messy. Shane was sprawled across his bed, clothing rumpled; he was more content that he had been in ages. Thin walls didn’t really matter when both had practice getting off quietly, even if it was weird they really shouldn’t be doing that together.

Dwight snuck back to his and Todd’s room; though as prefect he had been entitled to a single, it felt weird with all that empty space. He cracked the door, slipping back inside and checking the padlocks as usual.

A cough sounded from behind him.

“Did I forget something?” Dwight asked, noticing his roommate’s chair turned around with a displeased look.

“Really Dwight?”

“What?” Dwight asked, trying and failing to play it cool.

Todd rolled his eyes, “Shane? Of all people? He has a boyfriend.”

Dwight felt a wave of shame. He’d been saying that himself, but now he found himself echoing Shane’s hurt words. “They broke up.”

“They’re on a break at most until Mrs. Van Kamp gets her head out of her ass.” Todd said. Oh no. Not the disappointed tone.  

Dwight wanted to escape the room; but he couldn’t considering he’d had all the same protests Todd was bringing up. Granted, he did it anyways… did that make him a bad person.

He asked Todd, shame tinging his voice.

Todd frowned. “No. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It’s a bad decision given I thought Reed was your friend, but-”

“Well it was me or Luke Baldwin.” Dwight protested. “You should have seen Shane in the common room, I thought he was about to do some kind of sex demon ritual right there on the carpet!”

“Sure you did.” Todd wasn’t convinced. “I bet you also had to sleep with him for the good of the school or something? That’s not what you’re supposed to do as prefect. Be his friend, don’t fuck him.”

Dwight coloured. “I… It’s not going to be a thing.”

“Dwight, you’re a rebound if anything. This isn’t going to end well.” Todd pointed out. “If it was Luke, I doubt Reed would feel as betrayed. You slept with his boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend. It’s been 3 weeks.”

“So, you’ve been counting?”

“No!” Dwight said. Were his arms itchy? He felt itchy. Was this guilt? Fuck. He didn’t want to go to church; the priest at St. Anthony’s in Westerville was a total creep. He didn’t want that, so he admitted, “Maybe.”

Todd considered this. “I thought you were straight.”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“I don’t know!” Dwight said, throwing himself down on his side of the room. He’d finally gotten the elaborate four-poster he’d never been allowed in previous years at Dalton to be installed; and it was great for adding to the drama of these moments. He drew the curtains and tried to hide.

Todd pulled the curtains back anyways, crawling in. Buzzkill.

“You don’t know?” Todd ignored his personal space, pushing him to the side to sit cross-legged on the bed. “So you’re trying to figure it out with your friend’s ex who is also your friend, while you’re supposed to be keeping the peace as prefect?”

“I mean, I told him we shouldn’t!”

“But you did anyways.”

Dwight groaned, hiding his face in a pillow. “I get it! I’m a shit person! But like, he’s hot! Okay! Just, all…”

Todd interpreted the wavy-arm gestures Dwight gave him as best he could. “You know, even if you have a thing for him, this isn’t the way to go about it. Do you like him?”

“I! Don’t! Know!” Dwight said into the pillow, “Fricken heck.”

“I think you can use the stronger swears.” Todd said, finding the humour in the moment.

“I already suck… I don’t want to be an even worse person.”

“Well, you gotta deal with the consequences of your actions; I don’t really care if you say fuck, but someone is gonna care if you fucked Shane.” Todd pointed out.

“Is it bad that even though I knew it was bad, I still wanted to do it?”

“Do you really need to ask?”

Dwight rolled over and sighed. “This was so much easier when I thought sex was icky.”

“To be fair, you could have made an excellent travelling monk; if the vow of celibacy had just held.” Todd said, before flipping back to seriousness. “You got to tell Reed.”

“Ugh, I guess.” Dwight sighed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Confession is going to suck next time I’m home.”

“You could just convert; I have to say Wicca is a lot less stressful.” Todd suggested. “At least Trinity’s coven is anyways.”

“Yeah but then Reed, my mom, and God will all be mad at me. That’s not worth it.” Dwight said to the fabric hanging above him.

“You’re missing out.” Todd said, rolling off the bed. “Just don’t make me have to force you to own up to this. You won’t like me forcing your hand.”

“I know, I know. You’ll post it on the front page of the paper and make sure even Grandma Houston gets a copy emailed to her.” Dwight waved him off.

“That, and I’ll get quotes from Shane saying your dick is tiny.”

“HEY!”

[ferryboatpeak]

tom/harry/ben/meri

here’s the next bit of wear you like a necklace. 7.5K, relationship development, hopefully getting most of the kidfic in this verse out of the way. there’s a little more sex to post later tonight, maybe. thanks for the beta, fi!

[previous installment and links to the complete verse here]

As usual, Ben slides out of bed before the alarm goes. Tom spreads out gratefully in the warm imprint he leaves behind. All night he’s been wedged between Ben and Harry, trying to fit himself against Ben because he didn’t have enough room to sleep on his back. Once the soporific effects of his orgasm wore off, he’d mostly lain awake, turning the details of the evening over and over in his mind, trying not to disturb the others, wondering what to expect the next day.

Tom burrows further under the duvet and drowsily tracks the familiar sounds of Ben putting on his workout clothes. Usually he pads quietly back to his own room once Ben’s busy with the elliptical and kettlebells in the garage. On days when he’s optimistic about using the morning hours to work on his thesis, he’ll make a cup of coffee on the way. Today is not going to be one of those days. He rolls over to press his cheek to Ben’s pillow.

He half-wakes again when Ben returns. With the scent from Ben’s pillowcase in his nose, he puts images to the sounds of Ben’s morning routine: the lid of the clothes hamper, the shower spray in the en suite, the intermittent splash of water in the sink as he shaves around the line of his beard. When the exhaust fan goes silent, Tom slits one eye open. The room’s lightened with daybreak since Ben left to work out. He watches covertly as Ben unwraps the towel around his waist and hangs it over the top of the bathroom door.

As Ben quietly eases open the top drawer of the dresser, Tom’s reminded of Harry rummaging in the same place yesterday. Pants identical to the ones that slid down Harry’s narrow hips fit snugly around Ben’s. Tom wants to scratch his fingers through the hair on his chest and stomach, cling to Ben’s solidity like the ivy against the sides of the stone farmhouse. He’s drawn to the way that Ben’s body seems established, reliable. Not like Harry, smooth as if he could slip away at any moment.

He closes his eyes again once Ben tugs on a black t-shirt, and lets the small familiar morning noises ease him back into sleep. The buckle of Ben’s belt clinks as he threads it through his jeans, and the wooden hanger clatters in the wardrobe when he pulls out a sport coat. A silence, and then hard-soled footsteps down the stairs and out the front door.

The morning hush settles back over the house as the Range Rover’s engine fades away down the drive. Tom gets to his feet, holding down the duvet next to him so he doesn’t wake Harry with a blast of cool air. Ruby’s going to be up soon. The morning is Meredith’s time with her, and Tom doesn’t want to encroach. He finds his clothes, still in a heap on the floor where Ben discarded them last night, and dresses quickly and quietly. When he looks back as he leaves the room, Harry’s rolled over onto Ben’s pillow. He’s got it tucked halfway under him, one arm around it, a mess of hair obscuring his face.

On the way back to the carriage house, Tom detours into the kitchen to put a measure of coffee beans through the grinder. The first morning he woke up in France, he’d found the bag of beans easily enough, next to the package of filters. There was no coffeemaker on the countertop, so he checked the cupboards, every one of them. Then he checked the laundry room, just in case. Knowing there must be some perfectly obvious explanation he was overlooking, it took three days to work up the nerve to ask Meredith where the coffeemaker was. She’d pulled a funnel out of the dish drainer instead and explained the process of pour-over coffee, showing him to filter it straight into his mug, without making him feel like too much of an idiot. Now he leaves fresh grounds and a filter set up for her when he’s first to the kitchen in the morning, partly out of gratitude, partly as a small display of competence.  

It’s a strange kind of surprise to find his carriage house room looking exactly the same as it did yesterday afternoon. Same slanted ceilings, same pile of laundry in the corner, same stack of photocopied sources bristling with sticky notes, same photos tacked to the corkboard. No reason it should have changed, Tom tells himself. He’s still the same broke grad student that he’ll be at the end of the summer, when he packs all of this up and hauls it back across the channel to reclaim his room from George and Carl’s subleaser. It’s not going to matter that this summer he’s had the kind of sex he never even would have fantasized about. Fucked a married couple, fucked a popstar. All at once.

He needs to sleep, or else he’ll be dead on his feet with Ruby all day. After nights with Ben and Meri, it’s usually easy to fall into his own bed for a couple more hours, still carrying the warm, contained feeling of waking up between them. But alone in his room today, he’s restless. He paces from one window to another, brushing his fingers idly over his closed laptop as he passes the desk. There’s too much going on under his skin.

He undresses and tosses his clothes across the room onto the laundry pile. Nothing special about this pair of pants, this t-shirt that Ben stripped off of him last night. The shower starts to steam up the bathroom as he brushes his teeth briskly, looking at the same reflection as always. Same old dick in the mirror, never mind the adventures it’s been having.

The wide and unsparing water pressure of this showerhead is just one more thing he’s going to miss when the summer’s over. The hot water feels like it’s tattooing the night into him instead of washing it off. He leans his forearm against the white tiled wall and rests his head against it, closing his eyes and letting the jets sting his back until he can barely feel the heat. All of the images crowd together in his head, too many to decide what to savor, what to replay first. Harry’s tongue in his mouth, Ben’s arm firm around his chest, Harry’s weight on top of him, Harry’s choked cry when Ben told him he could come. Tom’s hard again, an erection that’s been biding its time since Harry spilled hot against the back of his throat.

He touches himself without an image to focus on, just the hot overwhelm of all of it together, and lets the spray wash the evidence off the tiles. After, he towels himself off and crawls under the duvet, pulling it up to his eyebrows so he can convince himself the night’s not fading away just yet. The cool sheets rub sharp against his oversensitive skin. He’s asleep before they’ve warmed to his shower-heated body.

It takes a moment to reorient himself at the sound of his alarm. He’s conscious of the contours of his body as he stretches his toes toward the end of the bed, feeling them out as if he might have grown an extra limb or a new scar. As if last night must have left a mark on him, somehow.

The blinds zip up smoothly, revealing a bright blue summer morning. It’ll be a nice day to take Ruby out on the bicycle. Mornings after with Meredith haven’t ever been uncomfortable -- Ruby conveniently keeps them focused on toddler mundanities -- but Tom doesn’t know what to expect from Harry, and he’d just as soon not find out first thing. He can pack a picnic and stay out in the countryside until Ruby’s ready to come home for her afternoon nap.

He searches the floor for his trainers before remembering that they’re downstairs, where he kicked them off after his run the other day. The carriage house carpet is thick and pale and runs in an unbroken stream all the way down the stairs to the little tiled entryway, too nice for his battered Nikes to smudge with the dust of the country roads. Tom runs his fingers through his hair, not quite dry yet but not damp enough that he can smooth out the misshapen spot from the pillow. He shoves on a faded ballcap instead, running his thumb over the familiar frayed edge of the bill.

Ignoring the sounds of Harry swimming out back, he finds Meredith in the office at the front corner of the house. There’s a half-written email on one of the two monitors in front of her. Colin gets up from his spot at her feet, shakes himself off, and pads over to nose at Tom.

“‘Morning, Tom,” Meredith says without turning around, typing quickly. “Just a sec.”

“Who’s a good boy?” Tom squats and rubs at Colin’s ears while he waits for Meredith to finish. The dog flops onto his back and wriggles with delight, letting Tom scratch his belly. Above them, the clacking keyboard goes silent as Meredith scrolls through what she’s typed.

“And, done,” she says, clicking the mouse and turning toward them in the office chair. “Here you go.” She scoops up the baby monitor hissing next to her laptop and hands it to Tom.

As Tom slides the monitor’s clip onto the edge of his pocket, he hears Ruby squeak over the background of white noise. She’s usually still in the middle of her morning nap when he takes over from Meredith at ten o’clock. “Did she sleep?”

Meredith grimaces. “Maybe. Didn’t eat much breakfast.”

“Got it.” Tom gives Colin one last pat. “We might take a bike ride, think she’ll be up for that?”

“She always is.” Meredith turns back to the computer. “Could you put in a load of laundry before you go?”

“Sure.” Tom turns off the monitor and heads upstairs. When he opens the door to Ruby’s room, the shaft of daylight from the hallway catches her standing up in her sleepsack, hands braced on the crib railing. Her hair is sleep-messy. She beams at Tom, chattering a greeting.

“Good morning, lovely.” He switches off the white noise on the iPad plugged in on top of the bureau and starts to clip up the paper blackout blinds. “It’s a beautiful day out there. Would you like to go for a bike ride? Bike? Can you say ‘bike’?”

“By,” Ruby attempts as Tom unzips her sleepsack and lays her on the changing pad on the bed. The rental house was clearly designed for parties of adults, and the queen-sized bed that dominates the nursery is spending the summer as a makeshift changing table while Ruby sleeps in the crib Meredith and Tom set up in the corner.

“Yes, bike, good job.” He changes her and holds her hand so she can slide off the bed and onto the floor. She’s still got her arms in the sleeves of her animal-printed sleeper, with the legs trailing empty behind her as she darts across the room. While she digs in the toybox, he retrieves a romper from the bureau drawer, and follows her around the room on his knees until she allows herself to be dressed. Tom adds the sleeper to the wicker laundry basket as Ruby heads for the door.

He catches her before she bolts into the hallway, and plops her into the basket on top of her dirty clothes. “Would you like a ride?” She looks suspicious at first, but squeals with laughter as Tom picks up the laundry and starts down the stairs.

Harry’s coming in from the pool, towel around his waist, when Tom carries Ruby into the kitchen. His startled expression resolves into a smile so quickly that Tom can almost convince himself he imagined it. He can’t help feeling awkward about carrying a baby and a basket of dirty laundry, even though there’s no reason Harry ought to expect the au pair to be doing anything else.

“Look at you!” Harry crosses the room to tickle Ruby. “Are you the laundry? Are you going in the washing machine? You’re going to be so clean!”

The basket tips dangerously as Ruby giggles and squirms away from Harry. Tom lowers it to the ground. Rescuing Ruby from Harry’s tickles, he deposits her in the baby seat clamped to the end of the island. “Ready for a snack?”

Harry beats him to the refrigerator. As he waits for Harry to get a bottle of water and get out of the way, Tom changes course to the cupboard. He pulls out a box of crackers and shakes a few out onto the countertop in front of Ruby. “Would you like some cheese? I’m going to cut up some cheese for you.” He’s in the habit of holding an ongoing one-sided conversation with Ruby, narrating the minutiae of the day to her, but with Harry in the room it suddenly seems excruciating. He bends down to retrieve a cutting board from the slot under the island.

Harry’s still there when Tom straightens up. He’s leaning against the counter opposite Ruby, holding his water bottle on top of his head. “Do you like my hat?” he asks her.

Ruby shrieks with laughter as Tom gets a block of cheese from the refrigerator. Harry replaces the water bottle with an apple from the bowl on the counter. He gapes at Ruby, eyes wide and jaw slack. “Now do you like my hat?”

Tom cuts a slice of cheese, cubes it as quickly as he can, and scrapes the results off the edge of the cutting board in front of Ruby. She’s still laughing at Harry. He swallows his irritation. She’s never going to eat anything while Harry’s distracting her.

Harry puts the apple back in the bowl and grabs a coffee mug. “Now do you like…”

“Are you going to be here a minute?” Tom interrupts, as pleasantly as he can.

“...my hat?” Harry finishes, to Ruby’s renewed delight. He looks at Tom, still holding the mug on top of his head, and blinks. “I can, why?”

“Mind watching her while I put the laundry in?” Tom gestures at the basket in the middle of the floor.

Harry turns back to Ruby. “I’m in charge now, sister!” His face contorts in an expression of maniacal glee, and Ruby keeps giggling. Everybody’s delighted by Harry, Tom thinks sourly.

He grinds his teeth as soon as he’s safely around the corner in the laundry alcove. As he stuffs Ruby’s clothes into the machine and measures out washing powder, he can still hear Harry’s efforts at entertainment and Ruby’s laughter. He stares for too long at the array of options on the digital controls -- a world away from the half-broken push-buttons on the coin-op machine in the basement under his flat -- just to avoid going back out to the kitchen.

Harry’s juggling three apples from the fruit bowl when Tom reemerges. Ruby’s still staring adoringly at him, her snack untouched. Tom schools his face into neutrality and gets out a pair of small plastic snack containers. He fills one with crackers and one with blueberries, and stacks them with a couple of pouches of baby food on the counter.

He’s lining up four slices of bread on the cutting board when Harry catches all three apples -- two in one hand -- and returns them to the fruit bowl. He leans his elbows on the counter. “What are you up to today?”

As soon as Harry turns his attention to Tom, Ruby picks up a piece of cheese. Thank god. The sooner she eats, the sooner he can get out of the house. “Probably a bike ride.” Tom jerks the silverware drawer open with a little too much force and selects a butter knife.

Harry makes an interested noise. “Where to?”

“Just around.” He dips the knife into the peanut butter jar. “Take a picnic, let her play in the stream, maybe.”

Harry crosses his arms and leans his elbows on the countertop. “Can I come with?”

Tom carefully spreads peanut butter all the way to the edge of the bread, even though Ruby’s not going to eat the crusts. He’s still coming around on the idea of coexisting with Harry at the dinner table. Harry infringing on his and Ruby’s nice little daytime routine is more than he should have to endure. “You sure you want to hang around with a toddler all day?”

“Sure,” Harry says. He sticks his tongue out at Ruby. “Spend some time with my goddaughter.”

“An offer I can’t refuse.” Tom puts a little Corleone accent on it, even says it with a smile, but it’s not as if he can say no. Harry’s the Winstons’ guest, and if he wants to spend the day with the baby, Tom’s got to accommodate. He wonders if Harry’s actually Ruby’s godfather, or if it’s a self-appointed title.

“Leave the gun, take the…” Harry looks down at the cutting board. “... peanut butter.”

Tom unscrews the lid of the jam jar. “Do you want a sandwich?”

“Um.” One corner of Harry’s mouth curls up. “Thanks, I think I’ll pass.”

Tom swipes jam onto both sandwiches and cuts Ruby’s into quarters. He leaves the knife by the sink rather than quartering his own. Harry’s already made him embarrassed enough about eating PB&J with a toddler, no need to cut it into little kid triangles as well. “We’ll go once she’s done eating.” He puts their sandwiches into a container and fills a sippy cup with water.

Harry’s still standing at the end of the counter, watching Tom’s preparations. “Let’s see if we’ve got everything we need,” Tom says to Ruby, ignoring Harry. He retrieves his backpack from the shelf over the washing machine and dumps the contents onto the island, feeling desperately self-conscious as he reloads the pack, inventorying everything aloud for Ruby’s benefit. “Extra clothes… and diapers… and wipes… and here’s your hat… oh, look, there’s a pouch left, strawberry-banana.” He waves the baby food pouch at Ruby and adds it to the backpack with the rest of the food. The accoutrements of his day seem small and laughable.

Tom grabs a beach towel from the basket by the door and a bottle of water from the the refrigerator. Harry’s still watching him from the end of the counter as he zips up the pack, as if he’s genuinely interested in the logistics of getting Ruby out the door. She’’s nearly finished with her cheese and crackers, and Tom’s ready to put some distance between him and Harry, even if it’s just a couple of lengths between their bicycles. “So,” Tom looks down at Harry’s towel, tucked in a neat roll above his hips. “You might want to put some clothes on, but that’s your call, I guess.”

Harry looks startled. Tom thought it was a joke, but it seems possible clothes hadn’t previously occurred to Harry. “Yeah, I’ll...” Harry points upstairs, and drifts out of the kitchen.

Tom sighs. He’s going to be on edge with Harry around all day. He doesn’t know how to talk about last night. He doesn’t know how to not talk about last night; it’s coating his brain like a filter, like any other thought that wants to surface has to fight through a thick film of bodies and mouths and candlelight. As he wipes off Ruby’s hands, he tells himself that he can make it through the next couple of hours. Ruby takes most of his attention anyway. He’s just got to make some small talk and try to forget his dick’s been in Harry’s mouth.

By the time Tom jollies a resistant Ruby through a coating of sun cream, Harry’s waiting by the front door, leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone. His white socks are hiked halfway up his calves and the damp ends of his hair stick out from the edges of his stocking cap. He’s wearing a hoodie that Tom’s seen on Meredith before, black with a line of rainbow lettering on the front. Tom’s not sure why Harry even bothered bringing a suitcase. Most of the time he’s either swanning around naked or stealing the Winstons’ entire wardrobe.

Harry follows Tom and Ruby out to the garage, past the side door to the stairway that leads up to Tom’s room, and through the entrance to the ground level. When Tom had settled into his room for the summer, he hadn’t bothered to check out the garage below until he’d heard Ben working out underneath his room one morning. He’d assumed -- quite reasonably, he thought -- that the garage was exactly that, and not a functional home gym. As he poked through its cupboards, it had been a further surprise to discover a full stock of summer paraphernalia: lawn chairs, outdoor games, pool toys, and two bicycles, one with a baby seat. His delight at the options for amusing Ruby was tempered with a faint irritation at the excess of it all. Every time he opens a cupboard or a drawer in this house, something more ridiculous emerges. All it just sitting here waiting most of the time, waiting for someone rich to come along and make it summer.

With Ruby still balanced on his hip, Tom toes up the kickstand of the bike with the baby seat and wheels it out the door. Harry follows with the second bike, fiddling with the seat height while Tom stops to strap Ruby in and buckle on her helmet.

“All ready?” Tom asks Ruby. “Let’s go!” The helmet is always a struggle; he tries to push off as quickly as possible to distract her before she starts tugging at it. Halfway down the lane, he looks back at Harry, who’s stopped to readjust his seat after an experimental start. Tom considers waiting, but Harry can catch up. Harry’s not weighed down with a baby and a backpack.

Tom turns right when he reaches the hard-packed country road. Some days he and Ruby turn left to bike into the closest town, where there’s a little playground. But the stream’s a more appealing destination on a hot day. The route starts at a slight downhill, coasting along the dusty road with vineyards rising on one side and a hayfield sloping on the other. The fields are just at the threshold of late-summer golden, and the sky is an elemental blue. Tom picks up speed. The warm breeze flows over his summer-browned arms. London and the gray skies of the academic term seem more like a theoretical principle than a material certainty.

“Look at the cows,” Tom tells Ruby behind him. “Can you count the cows? One, two, three cows, out there in their field.” He cringes as he hears the sounds of Harry’s tires crunching closer, but narrating the bike ride keeps Ruby from getting bored and screeching. Harry’s going to have to put up with it.

Harry pulls even with them. “The cows have bells,” he adds, in a toddler-specific voice. “See their cowbells?” He brakes just enough to fall back out of Tom’s peripheral vision, and moos at Ruby. She giggles, clearly more amused by whatever cow face Harry’s making than she is by Tom’s baby travelogue.

It’s easy after that. They pass stone cottages and lavender fields, sunflowers and crumbling outbuildings, describing them all for Ruby. With both of them talking at Ruby, there’s no need for Tom to figure out what to say to Harry.  Harry stays at his shoulder, even sparing Tom the trouble of craning his neck around to check on Ruby if she’s been silent for a suspiciously long time. The half-hour ride to Tom’s preferred picnic spot passes more quickly than usual.

“We’ll stop down there,” he tells Harry at the crest of a small rise. The road curves downward to meet a bend in the stream, shaded by an oak tree. They coast downhill, and Tom stops to free Ruby from her seat. She runs to climb the short stone wall by the side of the road. Tom follows, leaning his bike against the wall. Harry’s already seated there. He gets up to offer Ruby a hand and spot her as she walks along the uneven stones.

Tom unzips his backpack and sets Ruby’s sippy cup on the wall next to him before uncapping his own water bottle for a long drink. He takes the lids off the snack containers and arranges them next to the water bottle, leaving them out for Ruby to notice.

Harry turns her around a little ways down the wall. “How’d you end up with this job?” he asks, holding Ruby’s hand as she picks her way back toward Tom.  

“One of my professors knows Meredith.” Tom had been one of a few grad students copied on the email. I’ve got an an old friend who’s looking for an au pair this summer. They pay well, and it’s free room and board in France, a pretty nice spot to get some work done on your thesis (hint, hint). “I figured, I’ve never been to France before.” He was the only guy among the email’s recipients. It’d taken him a few hours to decide that the possibility of a paid summer abroad was worth getting over his roommates’ jokes about applying to be a manny.

“You’ve never been to France?” Harry sounds surprised, like it’s inconceivable that someone might have spent summers waiting tables instead of traveling the continent.

Tom can’t help it. “Some of us don’t have French girlfriends to visit.”

Harry stops walking and cocks his head to the side, a confused look on his face. “What?”

Tom immediately regrets bringing it up. “Didn’t Meredith say something about you having a French girlfriend?”

“Oh.” Harry’s face clears as comprehension dawns. “She actually lives in LA.”

Harry lets Ruby’s hand go when she’s still a few paces away from Tom, close enough to grab if she stumbles. Tom swings her down onto the dry grass and follows as she takes off past Harry for the oak tree. He’s an idiot for bringing up last night at all, and of all dumb things to ask about, he had to pick the French girlfriend. As if it matters that Harry has a girlfriend.

“And we broke up, anyway,” Harry says to Tom’s back as Tom crouches down to stop Ruby from putting an acorn into her mouth.

Tom straightens up. “Sorry.” It seems like the right thing to say, even if Harry doesn’t sound particularly regretful.

“Eh,” Harry says, a shrug in his tone. “Meredith liked her.”

Something about the way he says it suggests that other people didn’t feel the same way. “What about Ben?”

Harry snorts. “Ben likes whoever I fuck, as long as I tell him about it.”

It startles a laugh out of Tom, followed quickly by the indelible vision of Ben fucking into Harry, making Harry tell him about whatever French girl he last went down on. “Live vicariously,” Tom says, after too long. So it’s girls for you, then, he thinks but doesn’t say.

It’s not girls for Tom, hasn’t ever been, or at least not since he was a teenager testing all hypotheses. Meredith’s out of character for him, inextricably linked to the very much in-character way that Tom feels about Ben. He’s drawn to the soft details of her body not in and of themselves, but because they’re territory where he can feel Ben’s presence, pleasures he shares with Ben. Or else it’s that he’s attracted to the single entity of Ben and Meredith together, to the playful regard they have for each other and the well-curated details of their life and the easy way they wear their money. It’s a vision of adulthood he’s never seen up close, and he wants it. He wants them.

Ruby’s gathering up acorns, doing nothing that Tom can correct or intervene with. “Have you spent much time in France?” Tom asks instead, grasping for any way to redirect the conversation.

“Some.” Harry’s voice is muffled. Tom looks back and sees him tugging his hoodie over his head. His t-shirt almost comes with it, riding up to show the leafy tattoos above his hips. He stretches out on his back along the top of the wall and stuffs the wadded-up hoodie under his head. “Mostly on tour. I didn’t get to see much. And skiing, sometimes.’

Tom’s got nothing to say to that. If he asks where Harry skis, it can only lead to a conversation that will make it apparent the answer is meaningless to him.

“I did a film here a couple of years ago, but up north, not anything like this.” Harry waves a hand above his head at the sun-scoured summer day.

There’s a safer question than skiing. “You did a film?”

“Yeah, Dunkirk?” Harry’s voice raises at the end, a question. He reaches out to ruffle Ruby’s hair as she wanders by him, going for her sippy cup.

“Oh, I’ve heard of that.” Tom remembers a preview, planes zooming over legions on the beach. “Were you a soldier or something?”

“Yeah, a soldier.” There’s a laugh in Harry’s voice, but before Tom can ask more, Ruby plunges her hand into the blueberries, scattering them.

“Easy,” Tom warns, darting back to the wall. He cups his hand around the container before it tips over entirely. “One at a time.” He picks up a berry between his thumb and forefinger and holds it out to her. Ruby lets go of her handful and copies Tom. He empties the rest of the berries into his hand for her to pick up one by one.

When he looks up, Harry’s propped himself up on his elbows, looking down the length of his body toward Tom and Ruby. “You’re good with her,” Harry says.

“She’s pretty easy.” She is. Or at least she’s easy compared to the kids he watched for pocket money when he was a teenager. Mostly all he does is follow Ruby around and make sure she doesn’t put anything in her mouth that she shouldn’t. Belatedly, he realizes that it was a compliment. “But thanks.” He wonders if Harry’s been paying attention to him and Ruby. He was probably just making conversation. There’s no reason it should make any difference to him whether Tom’s any good at his job. “Are you actually her godfather?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, swinging his legs down from the wall as he sits up. “I’ve got four godchildren.”

“You’re joking.”

Harry extends his left arm and points at the loopy script above the crook of his elbow. “Jackson,” he says, as Tom reads along. He flips his arm over and points his elbow at Tom, showing off more lettering.  “Arlo.” Then he holds his forearm up like he’s blocking a punch, tendons standing out against the thin skin of his wrist. He points at a small but vehement “R” halfway up the underside of his arm. “And Ruby.”

Tom waits for a fourth. Harry drops his arm. “Charlotte’s the fourth, but she’s not been christened yet. Don’t have one for her yet.”

It makes the collision of ink up and down Harry’s arm look far less intimidating, less like a madman’s sketchbook or a prison riot gone wrong. A collection of babies. Tom wonders what unexpectedly tender reasons there are for his other tattoos. Or not. He leans over Ruby and taps his fingertip against the tail of the naked mermaid whose tail curves around Ruby’s R. “Which godchild’s this one?”

Harry laughs. He doesn’t pull away from Tom’s touch. “That one’s me.”

Tom’s about to ask how Meredith feels about her daughter’s initial being immortalized next to a pair of mermaid tits, but Ruby knocks the sandwich container onto the ground and starts to cry. Tom loses the thread of the conversation while he picks up the container and opens it for her and reassures her that her sandwich is all right.

“How do you have so many godchildren?” he asks, once she’s finally soothed,.

Harry shrugs. “Just a lot of friends with kids, I guess.”

“How do you have so many friends with kids, then?” Harry can’t be that much older than Tom. Not old enough for all of his friends to be having kids, at least. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty four.” It’s less than Tom expected. Harry takes up space with a kind of confidence that ought to take decades to grow.

“When do you turn 25?” He’’s suddenly curious to know how far ahead of him Harry is, how insurmountable the gap between them is.

“February.” Harry turns the side of his wrist toward Tom, showing off a pair of water lines. “Aquarius.”

“For fuck’s sake, do you have an answer for everything there?” Tom imitates Harry looking at his forearm. “What’s the weather like tomorrow, Harry?” He flips his wrist over. “Oh, partly cloudy.” He mimes searching further up his arm. “Who won the World Cup? Does it say France somewhere in your armpit?”

“Fuck off,” Harry says, but he’s laughing.

Tom’s about to say something about their shared birth month, but Ruby pivots away from the rock wall and ambles down the sloping bank toward the stream, still holding a crust of sandwich in her hand. It’s impossible to have a conversation with her around, Tom realizes, and then wonders why it took him all summer to realize it. Maybe he and Meredith are both so focused on Ruby in the evenings that she never feels like an interruption.

He intercepts her at the edge of the water just in time to get her sandals off. Holding onto her hand, from the bank, he lets her splash into the shallows. He’s awkwardly trying to get out of his own shoes one-handed when Harry passes him, already barefoot, and wades into the stream.

“Got her?” Tom lets go once Harry takes Ruby’s other hand. He sits down to get his socks off. Harry’s holding onto Ruby as she picks her way over the rocks. He seems genuinely happy to be doing this task that Tom’s being paid rather well to handle. Not that he’s not quite fond of Ruby by now, but not fond enough to volunteer for toddler time. What a strange vacation for Harry to pick.

Tom joins them in the stream, hovering behind Ruby as she bends down to pat her hands in the water. He knows how this ends, and sure enough, barely a minute later she sits down in the water, soaking her clothes. Harry cheers her on.

Ruby’s always quite willing to stay in the water as long as Tom will let her, especially with Harry splashing at her and handing her pebbles to throw. When her fingertips start to turn pruney, Tom checks his watch. “We should head back soon.” If Ruby didn’t sleep well this morning, he can’t be late putting her down for her afternoon nap.

“All right, time to go!” Harry hooks his hands under Ruby’s armpits and scoops her up, holding her at arms’ length to let the water stream off her clothes until it slows to a drip.

“Oh…” By the time Tom’s brain formulates a warning, it’s already too late. Harry’s gathered Ruby in his arms, against his chest, to carry her out of the stream.

A second later -- “Fuck!” -- Harry splashes out of the water and deposits Ruby on the grass. The side of his t-shirt’s soaked, a swathe of leaves and a butterfly wing visible through the wet cloth.

“Sorry.” Tom tries not to laugh. “Her nappy, in the water, it soaks up…”

“Yeah, I got that.” Harry strips off his t-shirt, still swearing, and uses the dry part to wipe off his running shorts and the water that’s streamed all the way down his leg from Ruby’s sodden nappy.

Tom gets Ruby out of her soaking romper and water-swollen nappy and bundles her in the beach towel. “Let’s dry off for a minute,” he tells her, sitting her on the grass with the towel wrapped snug around her to discourage her from running off while he bags up her wet things.

Harry wrings out his t-shirt and snaps the twisted-up fabric against the stone wall, as if he’s trying to beat the water out of it. The strategy does not seem effective, unless the desired effect was for Tom to watch the muscles work across his shoulder blades. It’s effective enough for that.

“Want a bag?” Tom rips another off the roll and holds it out.

Harry looks at him, confused, before spotting the neatly knotted bags of Ruby’s things on the grass next to Tom. “Sure,” Harry says, once comprehension dawns. “Are those…”

“Dog bags.” The same ones kept around the house to clean up Colin’s messes. Tom had swiped a roll after realizing their potential. He’s too proud of his finest babysitting hack to feel self-conscious about drawing Harry’s attention to one of the more menial aspects of his job. “They’re good for nappies too.” And wet clothes, usually Ruby’s but now Harry’s. It’s like he’s picked up one more toddler than usual today.

“Brilliant.” Harry enthusiastically shakes open the bag and stuffs his wrung-out shirt inside. When Tom looks up from changing Ruby and snapping her into a fresh set of clothes, he’s put on Meredith’s hoodie again.

As they cycle homeward, Harry pulls ahead when the road starts to incline upwards. The midday sun smudges the edges of his silhouette as he pedals away. He must be regretting that black hoodie now. Tom shifts to a lower gear and climbs slowly and steadily as the distance opens between them, reminding himself that Harry doesn’t have a baby or a backpack to slow him down. Just before Harry reaches the crest of the hill, Tom sees his foot scuff against the road, sending up a puff of dust and bringing the bicycle to a stop. Harry swings his leg off the bike and crouches beside it, holding it upright with a hand on the saddle. With his other hand, he jiggles the pedal back and forth.

Tom pulls up beside him and brakes. “Everything all right?”

Harry looks up, a puzzled expression on his face. “The chain…” He hovers his hand ineffectually above the bike’s rear tire.

Tom props his bike on its kickstand and joins Harry. “Let me.”

“Oh, I can…” Harry fades, uncertain, still no closer to touching the bicycle’s chain.

“No, don’t.” Tom steadies Harry’s bicycle and toes down the kickstand. “You’ll mess up Meredith’s hoodie.”

Harry drops his hand. “Meredith’s?”

Tom crouches next to him. The chain’s slipped off, but it’s still in one piece. It resists when Tom hooks a finger under it. Grease streaks over his hand as he follows the links back to where the chain’s caught. “Thought I’d seen her wearing it.”

Harry laughs. “This one’s mine.”

“She’s got the same one, then?” Tom works his thumb into the place where the chain’s jammed against the bicycle’s frame.

“They’re from my tour.”

Tom’s only half paying attention. The chain’s stuck tight. He works at it from both sides, back and forth until it finally pops loose from the frame. Pushing the derailleur forward to give himself some slack, he guides the chain onto the sprocket, feeling the satisfying catch as it aligns with the teeth. “Back on,” he says, standing up.

“Thanks.” Harry’s looking at him with surprise.

Tom holds his hands out, palm up, showing off his grease-covered fingers. Turning his shoulder toward Harry, he points a thumb backwards. “Can you get the wipes out of there?”

“How’d you know how to do that?” Harry asks behind him, unzipping the backpack.

���I don’t know, you just…” He makes a quick gesture with his hands. It’s not like it’s hard to put a chain back on a bicycle. The contents of the pack shift against Tom’s back as Harry rummages through them. “They’re at the bottom.”

The plastic wrapper crackles as Harry reaches the pack of baby wipes. Tom turns, ready to flip open the lid with his only clean finger and shake out a wipe one-handed. It won’t be the first time this summer that he’s managed that trick. But Harry’s already got the packet open, holding out a wipe for him to take. “Thanks.” As he cleans up his hands, Tom looks closely at the lettering on Harry’s hoodie. From his tour, he’d said. The rainbow stitching is more eye-catching than the message itself, but it doesn’t say “Harry Styles.”

“Why ’treat people with kindness’?”

“Why not?” Harry’s looking at him like it’s not just a rhetorical question, like he genuinely believes in the kindergarten rule radiating rainbows from his shirt.

Tom inspects his hands, rubbing at the grease that clings to the whorls of his fingerprints. There’s no answer; it’s not like he disagrees. He just doesn’t know how to react to such earnestness, to Harry memorializing his tour with a slogan that belongs on a poster of a kitten. Sending copies to his friends. “Sure,” he says, finally, squirming to be out from under the weight of Harry’s appraisal, where he’s not measuring up to some standard he can’t figure out. “Why not.” He stuffs the blackened wipe into a side pocket, and turns so that the gaping backpack is angled at Harry.

Harry deposits the wipes into the pack and tugs the zipper closed. “It’s like, if people are going to listen, that’s what I want to say.” He claps Tom on the shoulders, absolving.

Ruby’s watching them patiently from her bicycle seat. “Back on the road, love,” Tom tells her, grateful to move away from Harry. He releases the kickstand and pushes the bike experimentally forward, testing its weight. There’s no way he can get going uphill with Ruby behind him. The midday sun is a hand on the back of his neck, pressing him down into the sunbaked road. Next to him, Harry kicks off, gears grinding their way back to the configuration they were in before the chain slipped.

Tom trudges up the hill as Harry pulls ahead. It’s not a race, and Harry doesn’t have a baby on the back of his bicycle, and there’s no reason for Tom to be as furious as he is at the feeling of being left behind. He stares at the dusty gravel just ahead of his handlebars so he doesn’t have to look ahead at Harry cresting the hill. Ruby makes a displeased sound. It’s getting close to naptime. “I know,” Tom tells her soothingly. “It’s hot. We’ll be home soon, right? Soon.”

Under the bill of his cap, all he can see is the dust-rimmed tread of his front tire rolling over in an endless loop. It takes a moment before he realizes pushing the bike is getting less arduous. The road’s leveled out.

“Hey.” Tom jumps at Harry’s voice next to him. He’s stopped, waiting. “All right?”

“Yeah, just…” Tom gestures in explanation at the hill behind them. He swings a leg over his bicycle and leans hard on the pedal, desperate to get going, to prove himself. Heat bleeds into the tops of his thighs from the sun-warmed black saddle. He pedals aggressively all the way home, Harry silently keeping pace beside him and Ruby increasingly irate as naptime ticks closer.

When they pull into the driveway, Tom unbuckles her as quickly as he can. He leaves his bike next to the garage to put away after Ruby goes down, and hustles her toward the house.

“Hey, thanks,” Harry calls after him. “For letting me come along.”

Tom turns, and keeps walking backwards toward the house. “Not a problem.” The response is automatic, the same thing he’s said to Ben and Meri hundreds of times in response to their gratitude for some small aspect of his job. He realizes, with surprise, that it’s just as truthful now as it’s been every other time he’s said it. It was nice to have Harry along. It was nice to talk to somebody who’s not a Winston, nice that his sum total of conversation for the day wasn’t just narrating mundanities to Ruby. “Anytime.”

“Really?” Harry asks like he doubts it.

“Yes, really.” Tom says it over Ruby’s head, putting his shoulder into opening the sticky side door. Harry grins at him. As Tom closes the door behind him, he sees Harry at the door to the garage, pushing Tom’s bicycle inside.

[laketaj24]

29, 30, and 74 for Ubbe

Yay!!! I’ve been waiting on releasing my next Ubbe Series and this might just be the perfect time to. He will have a Songbook Series, Simply entitled Songbook Series: Ubbe, similar to what I have done for Erik. 

The first installment is based off of a Ed Sheeran song called Friends. Listen HERE!!! This taglist will be open and I will tag some regulars!! My Ubbe love runs deep. Brace yourself for the ride. 

Songbook Series: Ubbe: Friends

It was simple. UbbeLothbrok was not good for you. He had a way of finagling his way into your hearteven when you knew that it was doomed. He sat at the table across from youdiscussing some random numbers with your dad. It was bad that they workedtogether. Because quite often Ubbe found a way to get to you where you couldn’twonder away from him. Like this dinner table.

“I totally agree with you, it would be extremely more rationalto use solar energy rather than natural resources. We ‘re depleting the earth’sresources, why not use the source of energy that grows trees.” Your dad cutsinto his steak shaking hi head avidly at Ubbe who has simply made his day fromone sentence. What about you Y/N?”

“I stopped listening when you said something about nuclearenergy and math.” You admitted as you sip your wine. How did this demon findhis way to the Sunday table? Your parents loved house guest.

“Of course, you did.” He wipes his mouth and chucklespointing at Ubbe. “He has a good way of teaching things, it might help you inthat bio class. Ubbe you think you could teach her something?”

“I wouldn’t mind helping her at all.” Ubbe’s gives you aknowing look and you stand from the table. “Leaving so soon?”

“I have a final and my uber is here.” You kiss your dad’scheek and maneuver to your mother in the kitchen watching her juggle rinsingdishes and dessert. “Mom, I have to head out.”

“Okay, you want a to go plate?”

Ubbe is behind you quicker than you think placing his platein the water and handing her your father’s. “Y/N, I can give you a ride home. Idon’t mind.”

Persistent bastard. His hair was somehow messy and neatfalling to his face but just in the right place. It didn’t cover his eyes andthose eyes were not to be covered. He stood beside you folding his arms againsthis chest as leaned against the counter, and he awaited your reply. “I will passthis time.”

“Nonsense let him take you. WE know him and would muchrather you go with someone who actually cares for you. And we know he livesclose by, be a doll ride with him.” Your mom wasn’t crazy. She knew what shewas doing. She smiles never looking up from her dish and you feel it. The ridehome was going to be ridiculously awkward.

“Sure, thanks Ubbe. I appreciate it.”

Having won the small victory, he grabs his wallet and wavesto your parents. “Come on, hopefully we can beat traffic.”

There was no reason you truly couldn’t be with Ubbe. Andthere had been several times you and he had done things that friends never done.The first occasion being your twenty-first birthday party. You wanted to say itwas all the liquor but from the moment he hit the door wearing his white shirtand jeans you were doomed. It didn’t help that his eyes never left yours with themusic pulsating around you, hip thrusting and hands touching, you’d nearly fuckedhim on the dance floor. He leads you away from the place and you could still rememberthe way his lips felt on yours Full, soft and perfect.

Your eyes are hooked on the road. There is no way in hellyou can fuck him again. He was around the family too much to be the guy youwanted to jump on. “You never answered my text.” He said skipping the smalltalk.

“I didn’t have an answer.”

“Yes or no would have been just fine.” His eyes are also lockedon the road as he grips the steering wheel. “Did I do something to you?” Hewhispers and you feel a tad bit of guilt seep into your heart. He’d donenothing and it wasn’t fair.

“Nothing, I just don’t…” Your voice wanders for a second. “Idon’t want to mess up things between us Ubbe. We have always been greatfriends. Always been people who can talk to one another without…”

“Do you know how many times we have slept together?” Heasked.

“No.”

“Eight. How many times have you came to me about your shittyday or something your dad did. How many times have you called just to hear my fuckingvoice? We’re more than friends. I hate hearing you say it. I hate knowing you’redeceiving yourself.” Ubbe stops glaring at the road and now his eyes are likedaggers on you. “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they are you.”He adds.

“Ubbe.” He parks in the back of the parking lot, nearly ahalf mile from your front door. “I don’t want to do this…”

“Too fucking bad, because we are fucking doing this.” Hesays matter of fact. He adjusts his seat. “It’s becoming tiring Y/N. I know theysay that half of the fun is in the chase well I’ve done all the running that Ican do.” His voice is as weary as his proclaimed run.

“Friends should have some boundaries. Right, I’m sorry if Imade you feel some typ-,” His lips crash on yours and wherever the conversationwas going you didn’t care. His lips felt so soft as the parted hers. His deepbreaths consume you and he pulls you over to him making her straddle him. Thisfelt so right. His hands grip your hips pushing into the plush flesh andstrategically pulling your shirt over your head. “You’re trembling.” He mumbles.

And you were anxious. You don’t know how his belt buckle gotundone or how he lifted your dress that easily but it was done and he sunk yourboy down on his cock. He stretched you locking you into place as he adjusted himselfwith gritted teeth. You move first lifting yourself and then lowering back downslowly at first but then quickly finding a rhythm that had you both writhing.He met your movements stroking with you knocking you against the steering wheel.Your hips wind and grind into him, feeling him prod against your g-spot was onething and then the added contact to your clit had you spiraling. Your erraticcries into his neck drove him crazy.

“I’m not going to last.” He plead into your hear. “Getthere.” He pushed you against the steering wheel and his hand made it’s way toyour clit rubbing strategically in a rhythm that had you panting as he fuckedup into you. Your walls clamp on him as you come landing on the horn so thewhole neighborhood could hear your climax. He snatches you down on his chestslamming into you the last few times until you feel him get harder than beforeand he spills into you.

It’s quiet as you gather yourselves. You climb back over toyour seat getting your purse and keys from the floor. Ubbe grabs your hand. “Lookme in the eye and tell me this meant nothing to you.”

You swallow that huge lump in your throat that wanted to sayotherwise. “This meant nothing to me.” Your had wraps around the door handleand you step out from the car. “Thank you for the ride, Ubbe.”

Tagging a few: @ivarsshieldmadien@equalstrashflavoredtrash@whenimaunicorn@akamaiden @siren-queen03 @titty-teetee@sparklemichele @greennightspider@tomarisela @scumyeol@raindrop-dewdrop @naaladareia@vikingsmania @readsalot73@oddsnendsfanfics @amour-quinn@wheredidallthedreamersgo@unsure-but-trying @leaderradiante@microsmacrosandneedles@valynsia @captstefanbrandt 

[huffle-dork]

Red Flags (Part 4)

Part 3: [x]

It all started one day during a hero mission. It had been a couple weeks since the last incident with Phantom and both Jackie and Marvin were feeling fit enough to get back into the swing of things. Luckily, Marvin managed to keep his magic despite everything.

There was a minor bank robbery a couple streets down from their hideout and the two sprung into action as soon as they heard the alert on the police scanner they had installed. Jackie bounded from roof to roof, so glad to be back in his hero’s costume. Marvin quickly followed behind him, using his telekinesis to land softly on the rooftops after Jackie, his old mask and cape on.

They saw the preparator at the edge of the street, looking around trying to figure out which way the cops were coming from, a big bag of loot in hand. Jackie gave a wild war cry and jumped off the room, giving the robber and solid kick to the back of the head. The big guy stumbled and slipped to the ground, bag of goods tumbling away from him. But he wasn’t out for the count yet. Jackie landed right next to him and the criminal grabbed the hero’s foot and yanked him to throw him off his feet. Jackie yelped and growled as he twisted to kick the guy in the face. They both broke away and got to their feet, giving each other a silent standoff.

Jackie sprang at the robber with a fist ready to punch him in the gut. But the robber, despite his size, was fast. He grabbed Jackie’s fist and threw him across the street Jackie bounced against the roof of a parked car and hit his back against a street lamp as he fell off. He got up rubbing his sore back after a little bit of trouble. Man, he was out of practice.

Marvin saw the robber throw Jackie and rage swelled up in his chest. He flew down and reached out a hand for the robber, his hands glowing green. He growled and swished his hand, grabbing the criminal in a force of blue green magic and sent the man spinning into the wall of a nearby building. He then moved his hand and brought the villain against the bricks again, and again and again. The robber’s face was dripping with blood and he eyed Marvin with a pitiful plea. Marvin snarled at the man and lifted him up, using his hold to choke him. His magic seemed to be tinted red.

Jackie finally managed to get back up to join the fight when he saw the robber lifted into the air. He gasped at the sight and sped over to where he saw Marvin’s enraged face. Jackie was flashed back to their fight with Phantom and a shiver came over him as he recognized a bit of red in his magic.

“Marvin stop!” the hero cried, speeding over and grabbing Marvin’s arm, “You’re gonna kill him!”

Marvin snapped his head down at Jackie and for a second, Jackie’s heart stopped at the sight. But then Marvin’s face softened and he blinked at Jackie like he wasn’t sure what he was doing.

“J...Jackie?” He asked, and slowly realized he was holding up somebody. He gasped as he saw the sight of the man and his magic quickly fizzled out and the man dropped to the street. Jackie shoved Marvin aside slightly and ran over to make sure the robber was still alive. He checked his pulse and sighed in relief when he felt something. He then stood up and marched over to Marvin, glaring.

“What the hell was that Marv?!” He questioned, pointing at the fallen body. Marvin stared, slowly beginning to shake.

“I-i… I dunno.. I was just trying to help a-and then….!” Marvin’s breathing grew faster and he gripped his hands to his chest, looking panicked, “E-everything went r-red….”

Jackie blinked and quickly wrapped his arms around Marvin’s shoulder, gently rubbing them to help him calm down. “Hey… it’s okay… don’t panic okay?”

Marvin nodded and tried to calm down his breathing, “Y-yeah.. O-okay… I’m sorry…” Jackie shook his head, “Don’t apologize, man, we got the guy, so we did our job!” He grinned at Marvin and the magician gave him a half-hearted smile back. He then pushed himself out of Jackie’s arms and started heading back into town, “I.. I think I gotta go home..” He quickly mumbled as he jogged away. Jackie scratched his head as he watched him leave, wondering what the heck just happened.

Two days later, no one had heard from Marvin and Jackie was starting to worry. He went out and got their favorite, yet somewhat greasy, pizza and headed towards his apartment. Jackie knocked on the door and waited a moment before yelling, “Yo Marv! It’s Jackie open up!! I got us pineapple pizza~!”

No answer. Jackie tried knocking again harder, “Marvin?” Still no answer. Jackie frowned and shuffled so he could try the door handle, it was unlocked. He slowly pushed the door open, “Hey Marv, don’t mean to intrude… you okay-?”

When the door opens Jackie is unnerved by the sight. Marvin’s usually tidy apartment is in complete disarray. Clothes were strewn across the floor, decks of cards everywhere. Jackie looks up on the walls to see scorch marks running up the walls, and indents in the plaster. Jackie carefully walks into the living room, setting the pizza down on the nearest table.

“M-Marvin…?” He calls out hesitantly. He turns to the side and sees the nice mirror Marvin has on the mantle is shattered. Jackie’s heart is leaping in his throat. Did Phantom come back and steal Marvin away? Jackie quickly breaks into a sprint and bursts open the door to Marvin’s room.

The bedroom is dark, except for small bursts of sparks that illuminate the magician’s face inside. Jackie quickly flicks on the light switch to see Marvin standing in the middle of the room, holding his hand as he snaps and snaps, making tiny bursts in the air. But he looks frazzled. His hair is messy and unbrushed, and he has deep purple bags under his eyes. He looks like he’s one strong wind away from being blown over. He doesn’t even flinch when the lights flickered on, he’s too concentrated.

Jackie is relieved but also a little freaked out. He carefully enters the room and walks up to his best friend. “Uh… Marv?”

Marvin jumps at the sound and almost bursts a set of sparks in Jackie’s face. He blinks rapidly as he looks at Jackie.

“J-Jackie…?” He mutters, staring at him wide eyed. Jackie eyes Marvin up and down in concern.

“Dude… you look terrible. What’s up with you? Are you okay? I got worried when i didn’t hear from you after that fight.”

Marvin slowly stares down at the hand he’s been holding, and Jackie sees that its shaking. The magician takes a shaky breath before whispering, “Something’s wrong with me…”

“What?” Jackie asks in concern, lightly touching Marvin’s shoulder. Marvin flinches at the touch and moves backwards, looking haunted.

“I-I… My.. my magic hasn’t been working. S-Sometimes it just explodes a-and i swear i see it turn red! Then s-sometimes.. It doesn’t work at all… or t-the spells keeping getting messed up…” Marvin stares crestfallen at the floor, looking beyond exhausted, “I.. I think i’m hearing voices too… And yesterday… I-I caught my reflection in the mirror but for a second…! I… I didn’t recognize myself…” Marvin’s expression turned wild-eyed as he continued, “And then.. I saw his face! I saw… I saw….” Marvin starts shaking like a leaf and Jackie quickly drapes his arms around Marvin and leads him to his bed to sit down.

“Dude, take it easy,” Jackie suggests, “Just breathe for me okay?” Jackie slowly moves his hand and slows down his breath so Marvin can follow. Soon, they both start breathing slower and slower and Marvin starts to calm down.

“Marv… why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I don’t think you should be alone right now…” Jackie finally says, “And maybe we could make it fun! I’m sure Chase wouldn’t mind coming or JJ and who knows.. Maybe if Schneep isn’t too busy at the hospital he can come too!”

Marvin stares at his lap with a distant expression before he slowly nods, “yeah… that’s probably a good idea…” Marvin looks like he’s ready to pass out.

“Have you been sleeping at all?”

Marvin shakes his head before twiddling with his thumbs. “Nightmares…” He whispers. Jackie bites his lip before helping Marvin up. “Welp bud, let’s get the things you need to stay over!”

It seemed like the simplest solution. But things only got worse.

One night after a late night crime occurred and Jackie crashed on the couch because he was too tired to make it to his room, he was awoken by the door to the apartment slamming shut. The hero jolted awake and looked around, only to see the door to the room that Marvin was sleeping in was open. And he wasn't in there.

Jackie quickly pulled on his sneakers and dashed out the door. It was raining again and he struggled to see through the mist, but he saw a figure walking ahead of him, trudging through the puddles. Jackie quickly bound after him and saw right away that it was Marvin, walking barefooted through the streets.

“Marvin!” Jackie called out to him, probably pissing off any neighbors since it was like 3 am. Marvin didn’t respond. Jackie finally caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder, hoping to get him to stop. But Marvin, didn’t react to that either.

“Yo Marvin, what the fu-?” Jackie is caught off guard when he sees Marvin’s face. He’s staring off in the distance, not quite awake but not sleeping either. His face has a strangely blank expression on it, and Jackie can see a hint of red in his eyes.

Jackie jolts and makes his way in front of Marvin and quickly waves his hand in front of his face, trying to wake him.

“Marvin! Marvin! C’mon damn it.. Wake up!” Jackie snaps in front of Marvin’s face and suddenly Marvin’s head twitches and he finally blinks like he’s woken up. He shakes his head several times and blinks like he’s having trouble focusing.

“Jackie?” Marvin asks quietly, still blinking and shaking his head. Then his knees buckle and he’s falling towards the sidewalk, but Jackie’s quick enough to catch him.

Marvin pants and stares at the puddles in the sidewalk, “What… What are we doing?” he whispers, staring up at Jackie with a hint of fear in his eyes. Jackie shakes his head and hoists Marvin up so he can help him walk.

“We’re getting you home to sleep, c’mon…” Marvin shivers in Jackie’s arms but doesn’t question him.

The next day Marvin slept in, tuckered out from whatever woke him up. Though it was a restless sleep and he woke up feeling just as exhausted as he was before.

He walks into the living room to see Chase and Jamie playing cards games while laying on the couch. Chase perks up once he sees Marvin and gives him a big grin.

“Hey Marv!” He greets then gestures behind him, “I brought donuts! Jackie had to go do something but he said he’ll be back soon.” Jamie quietly taps Chase’s shoulder before showing him his hand and Chase groans in defeat.

Marvin mumbles grumpily and makes his way to the kitchen to grab some food. He comes back to the boys and leans against the couch, munching on his donut.

“Whatcha guys doin’?” Marvin inquries. Jamie leans over and shows Marvin the empty card case with a big smile on his face.

“Jamie got a new deck of cards and he wanted to try them out,” Chase explains with a grin, “Wanna join?”

“Nah,” Marvin says with a slight mouthful, “I’d wipe the floor with you, and that just not fair.”

Chase raises an eyebrow, “Why are you confident that you’ll beat us?” He says with a laugh. Marvin smirks, “Please Brody, i use these things for a living. There’s not a card game i can’t win.”

Chase sits up and gets up in Marvin’s face at the back of the couch, “Okay Mr. Snarky, why don’t we make a bet? If you can beat us at 3 games in a row, I’ll declare you the king of cards!”

Marvin rolls his eyes and snorts, “That’s it?”

Chase laughs, “Okay and whatever you want i guess. But if i win…. You gotta go out to town with us wearing a joker outfit!” Jamie covers his mouth in a silent laugh at the thought. Marvin hesitates for a second before grinning and offering Chase his hand, “Deal!”

Chase brings out his hardest most obscure games to challenge Marvin with. The kids’ grandparents always had new weird ones to play when they visited, some so obscure you could never really agree on the name. Chase was so sure these would throw Marvin off.

But that sneaky magician won every round. He gave Chase a cheeky grin as he threw done his last card and declared the game over. Chase and Jamie groaned and threw their cards.

“Welp, sounds like someone owes me a new title~” Marvin taunted as he got up and headed over to Chase. Chase stood up then sighed and took Marvin’s hand to shake it.

“Fine, you’re the King of Cards… Now what do you want for winning?” Marvin paused for a second to think. But then suddenly a strange expression came over his face. He blinked then a creepy grin started spreading across his face.

“Marv-?!” Chase tried to ask before a pain in his chest had him falling to his knees. He retched, trying to breathe but it felt like something was trying to burst its way out of his chest. And Marvin still hadn’t let go of his hand.

“M-marvin!” Chase choked, trying to pull his hand away, but Marvin gripped his hand harder, causing Chase to cry out. HIs whole body was shaking and he couldn't breathe. “Marvin, p-please! Stop!”

“A deal’s a deal…” Marvin whispered in a haunting voice, and Chase looked up to see a hint of red in his dead eyes. But Chase felt like he was gonna faint.

Everything burst all at once. A flash of teal magic knocked Marvin’s and Chase’s hands apart and then Marvin was shoved aside by a blur of red. Jamie was wheezing slightly, spent from the big burst of energy he just had to summon. Jackie, back just in time from his errands,  held Marvin with his hands behind his back as Marvin panted and stared at Chase hungrily. Then Marvin’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head and he folds forward, nearly toppling out of Jackie’s arms.

There’s a couple minutes of tense silence as the boys try to recover.

Chase tries to catch his breath, “What.. what the hell was that?”

Jackie chews his lip and moves to hold Marvin better, “I think we need to call Schneep.”

The boys carry Marvin to the hospital where Schneep works and by some miracle manage to drag him away to examine Marvin.

“I do not know vhy you called me Jackie…” Schneep says with a sigh as he finishes, “I don’t zhink zhere’s any zhing i can do.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Jackie shouts, “You’re a doctor and Marvin is sick or something!”

Schneep huffs and rolls his eyes, “I may be a doctah but i’m not some voodoo magic doctah!” Schneep raises his hands and shouts back slightly, “Vhatever is wrong with Marvin is beyond vhat i can treat.”

“What do you mean?” Chase asks, concerned. Schneep shakes his head and moves to push some hair out of Marvin’s face, who looks flushed and exhausted.

“Besides sleep deprivation… Marvin is comveltely healtzy…” The doctor sighs, “Vhatever zhis is… it must be in Marvin’s mind… perhaps trauma from all zhat ‘as happened?”

Jackie shakes his head and leans against the windowsill, “It’s gotta be more than that! This is too freaky… it’s like Marvin’s still not himself….”

There’s a moment of silence before Jamie quickly bolts up from his chair and starts signing crazily fast. Chase rushes over and holds one of his hands, trying to get him to calm down, “Woah woah buddy, we can’t understand when you sign like that, slow down!” Jamie nods then signs “I think i know what’s wrong.”

Jackie crosses his arms but sets his attention on Jamie, “Yeah? What?”

Jamie signs, “The red… the unstable magic… the forgetting…” Jamie seems to lose what he wanted to sign and looks fearful before he looks back up at the others and signs,

“What if Marvin’s deal with Phantom was never broken?”

Part 5: [x]

[mbaljeetsingh]

Getting Started with React - A modern, project-based guide for beginners (including hooks!)

So you want to learn React eh? This guide will walk through everything you need to know when getting started with React. We'll get set up, explain the "hows and whys" behind the basic concepts, and build a small project which pulls data from an API to see everything in action.

This will be a long one, so skip/re-read sections as you need using the "Jump to Section" links below. With that out of the way, grab a drink, buckle up, and let's get started.

Jump to Section

Prerequisites

You don't need to know any React before reading. There are a few things you will need to be familiar with if you want to get the most out of this getting started with React guide:

Basic JavaScript

React is a JavaScript library, so it makes sense to know JavaScript before learning React right? Don't worry, you won't need to know JavaScript inside out - you only need to know the basics:

Variables, functions, data types

Arrays and Objects

ES6 Syntax (using let & const, Arrow Functions, Destructuring Assignment, classes, importing/exporting, etc)

How JavaScript is used to manipulate the DOM

Basic HTML

In React, we use what's called JSX to create the HTML for our webpages. We'll explain JSX in depth later, for now make sure you have a good foundation when it comes to HTML:

How to structure HTML (how to nest elements and so on)

HTML attributes (i.e "id", "class", "onclick" and so on)

Subscribe to get my latest book "React-Ready JavaScript" which will help you get ramped up on the JavaScript you need before getting started with React!

Development Environment

The first thing we're going to do is set up a development environment. If you already setup Node.js and installed Visual Studio Code (or your preferred IDE), you can go ahead and skip to the next section [ADD LINK TO NEXT SECTION HERE]

Node.js

Go here and download the right package for your OS (Mac/windows etc)

When the installation completes, open a terminal and type this command:

node -v

This should show output the version of node you just installed:

This means that the node command works and node has installed successfully - hurray! If you see any errors, try reinstalling Node from the package you downloaded and retry the command again.

Visual Studio Code

Visual studio code is a popular open-source IDE that works well for frontend development. There are a bunch of others you can try - see what your favourite is and download that if you prefer. For now, we'll run with VS Code.

Click here and download the version for your platform:

Follow the installation steps, and you should be good to go. Go ahead and fire up Visual Studio Code.

That's enough development setup for now. There are other nice things you can install (VS Code extensions etc) but we don't need those right now -We're here to learn React!

Creating a React App

The next step is to create a React project. Lucky for us, the fine folk at Facebook have made this really simple. All we have to do is run a command within our terminal:

npx create-react-app my-app

This creates a project for us called "my-app" and sets everything up automatically. Pretty cool.

Go ahead and open up a terminal in the directory you want to create your app, e.g a "projects" folder, and run the command. Let the terminal do its thing, and after a while, this will complete and show you some commands:

Notice the create-react-app output has told us what we need to do to start the app. Go ahead and run the commands in your terminal:

cd my-app yarn start

This will start a development server and open up a web browser for you:

You've just set up your first React App! If you want to learn more about what's going on, (check out the "create-react-app" GitHub:)[https://github.com/facebook/create-react-app]

Exploring Create React App

Open up Visual Studio code (or whatever IDE you installed) and select File > Open… and select the my-app folder that was just created for us using create-react-app. This will open up our shiny new react app in the IDE, so we can write some code!

You should see the project structure to the right:

Look at all that stuff! Don’t worry too much about a lot of it, it’s mostly boilerplate code and config that we won’t be touching too much in this tutorial — phew! However since you’re a curious developer, let’s have a look at the project tree and see what we have:

Node Modules

This is where our packages go that we install through NPM (Node Package Manager). If you’re not familiar with NPM, it’s a glorious place where we can share code (usually open source) that other developers can use instead of writing their own.

Instead of using script tags like we do in traditional HTML, we install these modules as part of the application. Then, we use an import statement to access the code from that module. We’ll see this in action later.

Public Folder

This is where our bundled code goes. When we are ready to deploy our app, we run a ** build script**and the final files go in here. This will typically be our HTML, JavaScript, and CSS files. This is the folder we dump onto a web server somewhere, so that we can let users see our app via a URL

Index.html

The index.html is the entry point, or the first thing the web browser loads when a user navigates to the URL hosting our app.

If we look at the file, it’s a just a normal HTML file with normal HTML stuff that you will hopefully be familiar with. If we look at the body — it’s empty. React will dynamically convert our React code into HTML and load it here, in the “root” div.

With that out of the way, let’s look at the juicy parts — the code.

Our First Component

Open up App.js from the project tree. This is the Main component in our application. This is the first component to get rendered. It’s the “big cheese” of components.

The first thing we’re going to do in our big cheese component is delete everything, and build our very own component from scratch, to better understand what’s going on.

Now that we have a nice blank slate to play with we will start by importing react. This brings the React library into scope and gives us access to all the lovely features:

import React from "react";

Next we will declare a function. We’ll use ES6 arrow functions here. That’s more or less what a “component” is - a function with some logic and markup. We’re also going to export this function so we can use it elsewhere:

const App = () => { } export default App;

Within our function we want to write return(). This is what get’s returned from this component, and contains our markup which gets converted and rendered as HTML.

Finally let’s add a <div> with a <h1> title tag. Our finished component looks like this:

import React from "react"; const App = () => { return ( <div> <h1>Hello React World</h1> <h2> This is our first React App - isn't it marvellous?! </h2> </div> ); } export default App;

Now you’re probably thinking woah! HTML in a function? What is this madness? Even though it looks like HTML, it’s actually something called JSX (JavaScript XML). This basically allows us to mix JavaScript and HTML together.

This might seem a bit strange. We originally learned front end development by separating our HTML and JavaScript (and even CSS). Yet JavaScript and the way we design apps has evolved, and keeping everything together in the same “component” makes it easier to maintain and reuse our code.

Let’s see this in action. Open your terminal and run

npm start

This should open the browser and you should see the app running.

Congrats! You’ve just created your first component!

JSX

You probably have some question marks floating above your head when thinking about this JSX thing. Let’s take a deeper look into this.

return ( <div> <h1>Hello React World</h1> <h2> This is our first React App - isn't it marvellous?! </h2> </div> );

This looks like HTML, but it’s not. This is JSX! Even though it looks like normal HTML, what’s happening behind the scenes is that React is creating the element tree, using this syntax:

React.createElement(component, props, ...children)

component: The HTML element you wish to created, i.e h1, div etc

props: any props you wish to pass to that component (we’ll talk about props later)

children: An array of HTML elements that are nested within this element

So, the same component we have just created can be written as so:

const App = () => { return ( React.createElement( "div", null, React.createElement("h1", null, "Hello React World"), React.createElement( "h2", null, "This is our first React App - isn't it marvellous?!" ) ) ); }

Which looks a bit nasty (it was even nastier trying to type it out). If you trace through it carefully, you can see we are creating a div element, which has no props (indicated by passing null as a second argument). Lastly we are creating 2 more elements using the createElement syntax - our H1 and our H2 elements.

If you’ve been playing with JavaScript for a while, you might have noticed that this is similar to document.createElement. And it is! This is a JavaScript library after all!

This is the advantage of JSX in React - it lets us write HTML like syntax, without the messy React.createElement() stuff.

In the real world, React developers almost exclusively use JSX to write their code. No, this section wasn’t a waste of time - it’s always good to understand what happens under the hood. Knowledge is power (and less questions in my inbox)!

Making things dynamic

So we’ve seen JSX, and gotten over our fear of it (hopefully). But what’s the point? Why use this JSX thing, when we could just use HTML? They look the same? Right?

Good question my friend! Well, if we remember what JSX stands for - JavaScript XML. This means we can use JavaScript to make things dynamic. Our previous example looks like so:

const App = () => { return ( <div> <h1>Hello React World</h1> <h2>This is our first React App - isn't it marvellous?!</h2> </div> ); }

Now let’s say we want to make our text more dynamic. Firstly let’s add a variable to hold our message:

cont message = "This is my first variable rendered in JSX!"

Now to add JavaScript to this, we use ** curly braces**:

const App = () => { const message = "This is my first variable rendered in JSX!"; return ( <div> <h1>Hello React World</h1> <h2>{message}</h2> </div> ); }

If you run this in the browser, you’ll notice the text of our message variable appears. Go ahead and change the message variable text to something else and watch the magic happen.

We use curly braces to tell the compiler “execute this code as JavaScript”. If we didn’t have curly braces, the message variable wouldn't get executed as JavaScript and instead, the text “message” would appear on the screen. Try this out and see!

Handling Events

The same approach can be taken when with handling events. When using JSX, React gives us access to event listeners you may already be familiar with: onClick, onPress, onSubmit and so on.

Let’s say we want to display an alert when the message is clicked. Firstly, we add the onClick property to our h2 tag.

The onClick property accepts a function (in other words, we pass a function as an argument. This function will call the alert like so:

const App = () => { const message = "This is my first variable rendered in JSX!"; return ( <div> <h1>Hello React World</h1> <h2 onClick={()=> alert("you clicked the message!")}>{message}</h2> </div> ); }

Notice how we use a arrow function here to create a nice, concise inline function. If you’re not familiar with this syntax, make sure to checkout my book where I cover this and more here.

Again, notice how we have put this code within curly braces, to ensure the function gets executed as JavaScript.

Calling functions

So we looked at inline functions in the last example. Since JSX is JavaScript, we can create and reference functions outside of the return block. Our last example could look like this:

const App = () => { const message = "This is my first variable rendered in JSX!"; const handleClick = () =>{ alert("you clicked the message!"); } return ( <div> <h1>Hello React World</h1> <h2 onClick={handleClick}>{message}</h2> </div> ); }

Notice how we created a function called handleClick which alerts the message. Instead of using an inline function, we reference this function in our onClick property. Try this out and see what happens.

These are just some examples as to how we can use JavaScript to make things dynamic, and hopefully shows you the power of JSX. We’ll deepen our understandings later as we build out an example, so don't worry if some things don’t make sense just yet!

How a Component gets Rendered

Hopefully I’ve cleared up some of the questions you might have around JSX. The next thing you might be wondering is — how does a component get rendered? Where? When?

Let’s start at the beginning. If you look back to our file structure we have an index.js file. This is the first file to run (we often call this an “Entry Point”). This is typically by convention — you can change the entry point if you want, but for now we’ll leave it alone.

If we dig into the file, you’ll notice we have this line:

ReactDOM.render(<App />, document.getElementById("root"));

Notice we have document.getElementById(“root”) - finally some normal looking JavaScript! This gets the root element from the DOM using plain ol’ JavaScript, and renders our App Component within it. Our App component is imported like so:

import App from "./App"

Remember we exported our app component in App.js. This lets other files/components import and use our App component.

So where does the root element come from? Well, remember our index.html file in the public folder? This index.html file is the first HTML file to get loaded when the website loads

Within it we have a div with an ID of root, which is empty. This is where React loads our components. Let’s have a look at this in the dev tools.

Open up Chrome (or whatever browser you use) and inspect the dev tools. You’ll see somewhere in the tree a div with id=“root”, as well as the HTML rendered from our App component. Pretty cool!

Quick Summary

Before moving on, let’s quickly summarise what we’ve learned so far:

We have an index.html file, which is the skeleton of our web app

When the app starts, index.html loads, and imports our App Component

The JSX in the App component get’s converted to HTML, which is then rendered in the index.html file at the root div

Now that we have our feet wet with React, and have a better understanding of how things fit together, let’s build an example application using what we have learned so far. We’ll also learn some common React features that will help you well on to the road to getting started with React. Let’s go!

Our contacts list will display a number of a contacts, including their name, email, age and avatar (or, profile image). We’ll build this up gradually, eventually pulling data from an API. How exciting!

Get the styles

Since this is a React tutorial, we’re going to focus on the inner workings of React and not worry about creating nice styles. In your source folder, create a new file styles.css and paste in the following code:

.contact-card { display: flex; padding: 10px; color: #ffffff; background-color: rgb(42, 84, 104); font-family: "Segoe UI", Tahoma, Geneva, Verdana, sans-serif; box-shadow: 10px 10px 25px -16px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.75); border-radius: 10px; max-width: 500px; max-height: 125px; margin-bottom: 10px; } .contact-card p { margin-left: 10px; margin-top: 0; } button { margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; }

Next, go into App.js and import the stylesheet like so:

import "./styles.css";

While we’re still in App.js, let’s add the basic JSX to get our layout for the contact card in place. Remove everything from the return statement and add the following:

<div className="contact-card"> <img src="https://via.placeholder.com/150" alt="profile" /> <div className="user-details"> <p>Name: Jenny Han</p> <p>Email: Jenny.Han@notreal.com</p> <p>Age: 25</p> </div> </div>

All we’re doing here is creating a div to “wrap” the contact card details, adding an image (the image will use a placeholder taken from the web for now), and adding a few p tags to hold the details we need in the contact card. Finally we’re adding some CSS classes taken from styles.css;

NOTE: to reference CSS classes, we need to use the className keyword. This is because we are writing JSX, and “class” is a reserved word in JavaScript.

Here’s what we have so far in our App.js file:

import React from "react"; import "./styles.css"; const App = () => { return ( <div className="contact-card"> <img src="https://via.placeholder.com/150" alt="profile" /> <div className="user-details"> <p>Name: Jenny Han</p> <p>Email: Jenny.Han@notreal.com</p> <p>Age: 25</p> </div> </div> ); }

If you run this in the browser, you should see something similar to the following:

OK so we have our contact card! However it’s not very reusable. We know that we are going to need to reuse this code if we want to render more than one card, so it makes sense to break this out into it’s own component

NOTE - To make it easier to follow, I am going to a put all the components we make into App.js . In the real world it would be better to split these different components into their own files, and import/export them where appropriate.

Just beneath the App function, create a new function called ContactCard, and copy the JSX from App to ContactCard like so:

const ContactCard = () => { return ( <div className="contact-card"> <img src="https://via.placeholder.com/150" alt="profile" /> <div className="user-details"> <p>Name: Jenny Han</p> <p>Email: Jenny.Han@notreal.com</p> <p>Age: 25</p> </div> </div> ); };

Again, a component in React is just a function that returns some JSX. Now that we’ve moved our JSX to the ContactCard we can use this component within our main App component:

const App = () => { return ( <> <ContactCard /> </> ); }

We use our own components like any old HTML/JSX tag. We just put the name of our component in angle brackets. Our App.js file should look like this:

// App.js import React from "react"; import "./styles.css"; const App = () => { return ( <> <ContactCard /> </> ); }; const ContactCard = () => { return ( <div className="contact-card"> <img src="https://via.placeholder.com/150" alt="profile" /> <div className="user-details"> <p>Name: Jenny Han</p> <p>Email: Jenny.Han@notreal.com</p> <p>Age: 25</p> </div> </div> ); };

Now if you run this in the browser, things will look the same as they did before - which is what we want. We now have a ContactCard component that we can use as many times as we like:

const App = () => { return ( <> <ContactCard /> <ContactCard /> <ContactCard /> </> ); };

Update the App component to include another 2 ContactCard components. The above example will render 3 contact cards in the browser. Go and check it out!

Think of this like a “stamp” on the page. Every ContactCard component we add is another “stamp” and renders the same markup on the page

Let’s talk about State - the useState Hook

If you’ve been getting started with React already, you may have heard of the term state. State is quite a big deal in React. So what is it?

State is basically an object that represents a part of an app that can change, which the UI “reacts” to. State can be anything; objects, booleans, arrays, strings or integers

Let’s take an example.

Some people who appear in our contact list are shy and do not want their age being displayed until a button is clicked. We can store whether the age should be shown or not in state by using the useState hook within the component. Which looks like this:

const [showAge, setShowAge] = useState(false);

“what the hell is going on here?” Let me explain.

The useState object gives us a variable with the current value, and a function that lets us change that value. When we call useState we can define an initialvalue (in this case, false).

We use destructuring assignment on the useState hook to get these. You don’t have to worry about destructuring assignment right now, just remember that the first variable lets us access the state value, the second one lets us change it.

Go ahead and add the above code snippet to the ContactCard component like so:

const ContactCard = () => { const [showAge, setShowAge] = useState(false); return ( <div className="contact-card"> <img src="https://via.placeholder.com/150" alt="profile" /> <div className="user-details"> <p>Name: Jenny Han</p> <p>Email: Jenny.Han@notreal.com</p> <p>Age: 25</p> </div> </div> ); };

Now we have a state object, how do we use it? Well, we can reference the showAge variable like any other variable. In this case, we want to _only show the age if the showAge variable is true.

We can do this using the ternary operator :

{showAge === true ? <p>Age: 25</p> : null}

This example reads as if the showAge variable is true, render the age, if not, render nothing.

Go ahead and add this to the ContactCard component, like so:

const ContactCard = () => { const [showAge, setShowAge] = useState(false); return ( <div className="contact-card"> <img src="https://via.placeholder.com/150" alt="profile" /> <div className="user-details"> <p>Name: Jenny Han</p> <p>Email: Jenny.Han@notreal.com</p> {showAge === true ? <p>Age: 25</p> : null} </div> </div> ); };

Now, if you run the app in the browser, you’ll see the age disappears - that’s because our showAge variable has been initialised with false. If we initialise our showAge variable with true:

const [showAge, setShowAge] = useState(true);

The age will appear on the contact card. Nice! Although, its not great — we don’t want to change the code whenever we want to show the age on the contact card!

Before we look at how to dynamically change our showAge variable, lets tidy the code a bit. Go ahead and replace this line:

{showAge === true ? <p>Age: 25</p> : null}

With:

{showAge && <p>Age: 25</p> }

This gives the same result, just in a more concise way.

TIP: Shorten code where it makes sense to, don’t feel like you have to shorten every line of code you write! Readability should come first.

Updating State

Ok back to updating state. If we remember back, the useState() hook gives us a function to update the state. Let’s wire this up to a button, which, when clicked, will toggle showing the age on the contact card.

We can do this with the following:

<button onClick={() => setShowAge(!showAge)}> Toggle Age </button>

What this is doing is calling the setShowAge function (which we get from the useState hook) to change the value of show age to the opposite of what it currently is.

NOTE: I’m using the Arrow Function syntax here to pass a function to the onClick property. If you’re not familiar we this, a quick reminder that you can get my [book where I discuss the important bits of JavaScript to know before React here].

When the state updates, React will re-render the component and since the value of showAge is true, the age will be displayed.

If the user clicks the button again, this will set showAge to false, React will re-render the component, and the age will be hidden:

Look at our fancy toggle in action!

TIP: Whenever the components state changes, React will re-render the component with the new state

Notice how even though we have 3 ContactCard components being rendered, when we click the button the age only displays for one of the cards, and not all of them. This is because state belongs to the individual component. In other words, each ContactCard component that renders is a copy, and has its own state/data.

Introducing Props

So now we have a lovely new ContactCard component that we’re reusing a few times. Although its not really reusable, since the name, email, age and avatar are the same for each of our components. Oh dear! We can make this data more dynamic with what are called props.

Since you’re just getting started with React, you can think ofProps as data that gets passed to a component, which the component can then use. For example, we can pass in our avatar , ** email**, name and age as props to our Contact Card component like so:

<ContactCard avatar="https://via.placeholder.com/150" name="Jenny Han" email="jenny.han@notreal.com" age={25} />

As you can see, we define a prop by giving it a name. Eg. name and using the equals to assign some value to that prop e.g Jenny Han.

We can have as many props as we want, and we can name these props whatever we want, so they’re pretty flexible.

Props can hold different types of data, i.e strings, numbers, booleans, objects, arrays and so on.

NOTE: Props must be defined using quoted text (e.g name=“Jenny Han”) or within braces (e.g age={25}. If we leave out the braces for anything other than strings things start to break - age=25 );

Go ahead and replace the current ContactCard components within our App component with the following:

<ContactCard avatar="https://via.placeholder.com/150" name="Jenny Han" email="jenny.han@notreal.com" age={25} /> <ContactCard avatar="https://via.placeholder.com/150" name="Jason Long" email="jason.long@notreal.com" age={45} /> <ContactCard avatar="https://via.placeholder.com/150" name="Peter Pan" email="peter.pan@neverland.com" age={100} />

All we’re doing here is passing the data that the component needs to each component as props. Notice how the data is different for each component.

Using Props within a component

We’ve sent a bunch of props down to the ContactCard component, so let’s tell the ** ContactCard** how to use them.

Until now, our ** ContactCard** function doesn’t accept any parameters. React, being the magical thing that it is, automatically puts all our props into a lovely props object, that gets passed into the component:

const ContactCard = props => { //...other code };

Notice the props variable. This is an object containing the props we defined previously. We can access our defined props by using the dot notation like so:

const ContactCard = props => { console.log(props.avatar); console.log(props.name); console.log(props.email); console.log(props.age); //...other code };

Finally, we want to replace the hardcoded values in our JSX, with the values we receive from the props:

return ( <div className="contact-card"> <img src={props.avatar} alt="profile" /> <div className="user-details"> <p>Name: {props.name}</p> <p>Email: {props.email}</p> <button onClick={() => setShowAge(!showAge)}>Toggle Age </button> {showAge && <p>Age: {props.age}</p>} </div> </div> );

Notice how we have set the image source using whatever value we received from props. We did similar for name, email, and age. Also notice how we wrap this code in curly braces, so it gets executed as JavaScript.

Our final App.js file looks like this:

// App.js const App = () => { return ( <> <ContactCard avatar="https://via.placeholder.com/150" name="Jenny Han" email="jenny.han@notreal.com" age={25} /> <ContactCard avatar="https://via.placeholder.com/150" name="Jason Long" email="jason.long@notreal.com" age={45} /> <ContactCard avatar="https://via.placeholder.com/150" name="Peter Pan" email="peter.pan@neverland.com" age={100} /> </> ); }; const ContactCard = props => { const [showAge, setShowAge] = useState(false); return ( <div className="contact-card"> <img src={props.avatar} alt="profile" /> <div className="user-details"> <p>Name: {props.name}</p> <p>Email: {props.email}</p> <button onClick={() => setShowAge(!showAge)}> Toggle Age </button> {showAge && <p>Age: {props.age}</p>} </div> </div> ); };

If you run this in the browser, you should see something similar to this:

Hurray! Our component works the same as before, but its now more dynamic. We can reuse the same ContactCard but passing in different data - whilst keeping the layout, styles, and state objects the same.

Rendering components from a List

Our contacts list is coming along nicely, we have some well crafted, reusable code so time to leave it alone right? Wrong! Let’s take it a step further.

In a real application, data usually comes in the form of an array of data, e.g after an API call. Let’s pretend we’ve made an API call to retrieve some users from a database and have received the following data:

const contacts = [ { name: "Jenny Han", email: "jenny.han@notreal.com", age: 25 }, { name: "Jason Long", email: "jason.long@notreal.com", age: 45 }, { name: "Peter Pan", email: "peter.pan@neverland.com", age: 100 } ];

Paste this into the App() component at the top of the function. The eagled eye amongst you will notice how this data is similar to what we already have. But how we we turn this data into ContactCard components? Well, remember all those days you spent learning how to loop over an array using .map()? Now is the day we put that into action!

To display a list of components, we:

Loop over the array using .map()

For each item in the array, create a new ContactCard component

Pass the data from each object in the array to the ContactCard component as props

Let’s see how this works. In our appApp() component, replace the return statement with this:

return ( <> {contacts.map(contact => ( <ContactCard avatar="https://via.placeholder.com/150" name={contact.name} email={contact.email} age={contact.age} /> ))} </> );

As you can see, we map over the array. For each object in the array, we want to create a new ContactCard component. For the props, we want to take the name, email, and age from the current object the map function is on. In other words, from the contact variable.

NOTE: I’ve left the “avatar” prop alone, as this is the same for now - it’ll change later in the tutorial

And that’s it! Our App.js file looks like this:

//App.js const App = () => { const contacts = [ { name: "Jenny Han", email: "jenny.han@notreal.com", age: 25 }, { name: "Jason Long", email: "jason.long@notreal.com", age: 45 }, { name: "Peter Pan", email: "peter.pan@neverland.com", age: 100 }, { name: "Amy McDonald", email: "amy@email.com", age: 33 } ]; return ( <> {contacts.map(contact => ( <ContactCard avatar="https://via.placeholder.com/150" name={contact.name} email={contact.email} age={contact.age} /> ))} </> ); };

Run this in the browser and things should look the same. We haven’t change our ContactCard, merely changed where we got the data from. The cool thing about this is that if you added another row to the contacts array, the extra component will get rendered automatically- you don’t have to do anything else! Try this for yourself and see.

Pulling data from an API

We’ve got a nice looking React App now, nice and dynamic and things are working well. Which is a good place to be since we’re just getting started with React! But there are some tidy ups we need to make. In a real application, data will be pulled in from an API.

For the next part of the tutorial, we are going to get real contacts (when I say real contacts, I mean fake contacts - you know what I mean) from a real API: https://randomuser.me/. Feel free to browse the website and look at the response we will get back — this is where we will get our data to populate our components.

Firstly, let’s create a state variable to hold the data we get back from the API. Remember, state is good for holding that that can change. Our contacts list can definitely change!

In App.js, remove the contacts array add the following:

const [contacts, setContacts] = useState([]);

Here, we’re doing here is creating a state object, and initialising it to an empty Array. When we make the API call, we’ll update the state to contain a list of contacts. Since we named this state object contacts, our rendering logic within the JSX will look for this array instead (as opposed to the old contacts array we just deleted).

Next, let’s grab the data from the API. We’ll use the standard Fetch API. For now, we’ll log the data to the console. Add the following below the state object we just created:

fetch("https://randomuser.me/api/?results=3") .then(response => response.json()) .then(data => { console.log(data); });

All we’re doing here is:

Making a GET request to the randomuser API, asking for three results

Convert the response into JSON

Logging the JSON to the console.

If you run this in the browser, you’ll notice the ContactCard components no longer render - thats fine, we haven’t saved any new data to state yet, and our state variable is currently empty. If you look at the console (in your browser dev tools) you’ll notice the response object is logged. Which will look something like this:

You’ll see we have a results array, which has 3 objects. Each of these objects contain the details of a user (or a “Contact” in our case). This is similar to the contacts array we manually created ourselves in the previous section - just an array full of objects.

Let’s update our App components JSX to pick data from this object. Update the JSX like so:

return ( <> {contacts.map(contact => ( <ContactCard avatar={contact.picture.large} name={contact.name.first + " " + contact.name.last} email={contact.email} age={contact.dob.age} /> ))} </> );

This works similar to what we had before:

We are looping through the contacts variable (which, at the moment is an empty array)

When we eventually save the response to state (the next step) we look through each object in the array, for the appropriate things we need: in this case picture, name, email, and dob objects.

Next we want to store the results array in state, so our JSX can loop over it (using the map() function we seen previously) and render some lovely ContactCards. Within our fetch function, add the call to setContacts(data.results) like so:

fetch("https://randomuser.me/api/?results=3") .then(response => response.json()) .then(data => { console.log(data); setContacts(data.results); });

Our App component now looks like this:

//App.js const App = () => { const [contacts, setContacts] = useState([]); fetch("https://randomuser.me/api/?results=3") .then(response => response.json()) .then(data => { console.log(data); setContacts(data.results); }); return ( <> {contacts.map(contact => ( <ContactCard avatar={contact.picture.large} name={contact.name.first + " " + contact.name.last} email={contact.email} age={contact.dob.age} /> ))} </> ); };

If you save this, and run it in the browser, you’ll see something like this:

“WTF is going on everything is broken!”, don’t panic just yet (If you’re on a slower machine or just getting a bit freaked out, you can comment out the setContacts(data.results) line within the fetch function for now).

What’s happening here is that we’re stuck in a bit of a loop:

We make a call to fetch and get some data back

We then save this data to state

Remember, React does a re-render when the state changes

When the component re-renders, the fetch api call happens again, and sets the state

Since the state updated, the component re-renders again

After the component re-renders, fetch is called again…

You get the idea

So how do we stop this? We have to delete everything and start again. Nah just kidding, don’t run away yet. We can fix this with another built in React Hook - useEffect.

Introducing useEffect

The useEffect hook is a special hook that runs a function. By default, the useEffect hook runs on every re-render. However, we can configure it to only run under certain condition, e.g when a component mounts, or if a variable changes. The useEffect hook looks like this:

useEffect(() => { // code to run });

This will run every time. If we want to specify “only run once” we pass in an empty array as a second argument like so.

useEffect(() => { // code to run },[]); //<-- notice the empty array

This is called a dependency array. When the dependency array is empty, this means the useEffect function will only run when the component loads for the first time. For additional re-renders, the useEffect function is skipped.

This is a perfect place to put our API call, as we only want to get the data once, when the component loads. Go ahead and place a **useEffect()**function into our App component, and move the fetch API call into the useEffect function. Our App component now looks like this:

//App.js const App = () => { const [contacts, setContacts] = useState([]); useEffect(() => { fetch("https://randomuser.me/api/?results=3") .then(response => response.json()) .then(data => { setContacts(data.results); }); }, []); return ( <> {contacts.map(contact => ( <ContactCard avatar={contact.picture.large} name={contact.name.first + " " + contact.name.last} email={contact.email} age={contact.dob.age} /> ))} </> ); };

Now, if you run the code in your browser, you should see 3 contact cards appear! Refresh the page to see another randomised list of contacts:

Conclusion

Congrats! You just completed your first real-world app and laid the foundation to move onto more advanced topics.

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[jarienn972]

The Right Place - Chapter Three

This chapter isn’t quite as long as the last one, but there’s still quite a bit happening. This installment features the first of several flashbacks which will shift POV to different perspectives, each providing new insight to the mystery.

From the beginning on Tumblr:  Prologue/Chap One  Chap Two

Also on  AO3  and FF.net

Tuesday afternoon, Portland Harbor

The drive to the harbor took almost exactly fifteen minutes despite hitting nearly every traffic light red on their way. Deputy McCallen pulled the early 2000s era faded beige or maybe pale gold unmarked Ford Taurus into the parking lot of a dated but well maintained convenience store that had at one time also been a gas station. Still bearing the weathered awning that once covered the pumps, Scott's Mart had long ago stopped selling any fuel other than propane to focus on the store and its fledgling coffee shop. Only a few blocks away from the revitalized Old Port area where many of the former warehouses had been converted to nightclubs and restaurants, this side of the harbor near the ferry terminal had clung to its maritime roots, frequented more by commuters and commercial fishermen than tourists or trendy locals.

McCallen already knew bits and pieces of the area's history both from having grown up here in Portland as well as from information Sgt. Haviland had shared with him earlier that morning. This shop's current owner was Jean Scott, the blonde haired fifty-something woman from the security video who was the third generation of the Scotts to operate the store, but first to be forced to make drastic changes to how her business was run so she could adapt to the new harbor front development. Her business survived mostly from her regular customers – dock workers, fishermen and the daily commuters arriving and departing from the busy ferries serving the outer islands. Her enviable location only a block from the terminal was predominately what had kept her business afloat.

During the drive over, McCallen had attempted to keep his questions related to the investigation, not wanting to offend Emma with unprofessional inquiries that would make him appear inexperienced, but he found that a few nagging queries just wouldn't remain silent – one of which made its way to his lips as he turned off the engine of the Taurus.

"Okay, I have to know something," he began, shifting to face his passenger. "What's the significance of the jewelry?"

"The jewelry? What jewelry?" Emma wondered, confused at the sudden seemingly irrelevant question.

"Your husband's jewelry – those ornate rings, the skull and crossbones necklace – like something right out of a pirate movie. Does he have some sort of pirate fetish or something?" His inquiry caught her so unprepared that she nearly choked while trying to suppress a giggle.

"Well, that's another really long story…," she chuckled. "I wouldn't even know where to begin. Suffice it to say he really loves the sea."

"So – no fingerprints in the system, no driver's license, a potentially disturbing fascination with pirates… I've got a feeling there are a whole lot of 'long stories' involved here…"

"You have absolutely no idea," Emma laughed as she pushed open the passenger side door and climbed out of the car while McCallen shook his head in mock frustration.

"Think maybe you'll fill me in on some of those long stories as this case goes on?" he asked as he exited the car. "Like what possessed you into making the decision to come over here with me rather than staying with your husband at the hospital?"

"That's an easy one to answer. I know for a fact that Killian would rather have me out here trying to track down the people who hurt him instead of sitting uselessly by his bedside feeling sorry for him. He'd never allow that. As for the rest, you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" he mumbled as they strolled toward the shop's front door which bore a very large "CLOSED" sign even though they could clearly see the proprietor inside as she attempted to replace a broken shelf on a display case. McCallen rapped loudly on the glass which garnered an angry shout from inside:

"We're closed! Just like the sign says."

"Ms. Scott? I'm Deputy McCallen with the Cumberland County Sheriff's Department. We spoke briefly earlier and I'm here to ask you a few more questions if you don't mind, remember?"

"I've already talked to Portland PD about the robbery," the woman shouted back. "I don't know what else I could possibly tell you that I didn't already tell them."

"Ms. Scott," the deputy persisted. "I'm not here to ask you questions about the robbery per se. I'm investigating a different case – what might be an attempted homicide."

"Attempted homicide?" the woman's tone softened becoming more quizzical as she placed the shelf bracket onto the tile floor, then stood up and walked over to the door. "What attempted homicide and what the hell does it have to do with me?" she asked the deputy through the door, not yet convinced to open it for the young man and his blonde companion with the messy ponytail and a no-nonsense scowl etched onto her face.

"The man the robbers took hostage two days ago – he turned up half dead on Little Diamond Island later that day…" McCallen informed her.

"Wait – the guy in the leather jacket?" Jean Scott asked, clearly surprised as she immediately unlocked the door and pushed it open. "The good looking British guy who was here in my shop was the unidentified person they were talking about on the news last night?"

"We're pretty sure he was," the deputy replied as the shopkeeper stepped aside, now eagerly inviting both of her guests inside. "We're hoping you can help us figure out how he got out there."

"Yeah, sure…," Jean said, her demeanor completely changed now as she closed the door behind them and relocked it. "I don't know how much I can help you, but I'll tell you this much, the guy probably saved my life. Guess I owe him a few minutes of my time to try and answer your questions."

"We really appreciate it, Ms. Scott," Emma spoke up. "My name is Emma Jones, Sheriff of the town of Storybrooke," she decided to use the professional title to introduce herself to establish her relevance in the investigation. "The man in the leather jacket who was here on Sunday was my husband, Killian, who also serves as Deputy Sheriff in our department."

"Killian, huh? He never mentioned what his name was, but he kept positioning himself between the robbers and me. He wouldn't ever let them get too close," Jean stated. "Him being a deputy makes sense now. He just stayed calm and kept talking to them – kind of like he'd done it before, you know?"

"What can you tell us about that morning leading up to the robbery and hostage situation?" McCallen asked as he withdrew his notepad and pen.

"I really already went over this with the cops," the shopkeeper groaned, turning her back to them as she took a step toward her coffee shop counter in the rear of the store. "Do you really want the full replay?"

"It would be a huge help to us," Emma pleaded as Jean continued over to the counter then reached across it to press a button on her industrial sized coffee maker, positioning a large chrome carafe onto the base before plopping herself onto one of three barstools.

"Well, then, coffee's brewing…," Jean sighed. "You two aren't in a hurry, are you?"

Two days earlier

Sunday had started out as a typical weekend morning – the usuals dropping by for a cup and a chat before heading out to wherever they spent their day whether that might be work or play. It had been, for the most part, a lovely day – bright and sunny although still a tad chilly for April, but it had been exceptionally windy. She'd glanced out the front windows on a few occasions to spy her hand-lettered sign swaying on its post and watched the steel awning above the long absent gas and go area occasionally heave with a strong gust. She made a mental note to have the boys next door check it out once the wind died down, thankful that at least these weren't gale force winds or she likely would have lost a section by now.

Mid-morning was always the lull of the day - especially on the weekends. Ferry traffic slowed and customers were infrequent although usually things picked up as it got closer to lunch time when a few regular patrons would drop in for a sandwich from her cooler or just another steaming hot cup of joe to thaw their insides. Some days, it seemed as though the handful of repeat customers she had was all that was keeping her going, but Jean Scott wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet. This was more than just a business to her – it was her family's pride and joy. The shop had stood here on the harbor, a block from the Portland ferry terminal, for nearly fifty years and Jean was now the third generation of her family to run it, following in her father and grandfather's footsteps. So much had changed down here on the waterfront in all of those years, but she wasn't ready to part with the shop just yet, never mind the constant badgering she got from developers who wanted her to sell to them. It just wasn't time for that yet.

A little after 10:30am, she'd started cleaning out one of her two largest coffee carafes in preparation for the lunch rush when she'd heard the little electronic buzzer sound that informed her a customer had entered the shop, a feature she'd recently installed for times like these when her head was buried under the counter. Alerted that she was no longer alone in the shop, she perked her head up to see if it was one of her usuals, but instead of a regular customer, she laid eyes on a man she'd never seen before. There wasn't a single thing about this man's appearance that would have led her to believe he was from this area looking as out of place on this harbor as anyone could imagine. He stood not quite six feet tall wearing a black leather motorcycle style jacket adorned with silver zippers and buckles over a neatly pressed indigo blue Oxford shirt and what appeared to be a black leather vest.

But it wasn't just his clothing that drew her attention, it was the total image he presented. He wore his chestnut brown hair short and sported several days growth of neatly trimmed stubble along his jawline and upper lip that lent to his roguish charm. She wasn't really certain how to describe his demeanor but it essentially came down to a mix of biker tough meets Harvard scholar – his air of confidence oddly captivating as he stood next to the checkout counter.

"Morning!" she called out, scurrying from behind the coffee shop counter to greet her new customer. "Welcome to Scott's Mart. What can I do for you this morning?"

"I was told by a neighboring establishment that I could get a decent warm beverage here while I await the next ferry over to Peaks Island," the man replied in a strongly accented voice she suspected was British. She could see that his face and ears were flush from the cold and wind, but he didn't seem the type to complain about a chill in the air.

"You sure can get a warm beverage here," Jean smiled. "What's your preference – coffee or tea?"

"Preference would be rum but this hardly looks like a tavern so I'll settle for whatever you've got handy."

"Well then, have a seat. I'll have a fresh pot brewed in no time," she snickered.

"Much appreciated," he responded, flashing a huge smile that would have made her weak in the knees were she twenty years younger. "Don't suppose you would know what time the next ferry is scheduled to depart, would you?" he asked, placing a paper sack that she recognized as coming from the neighboring Mac's Maritime Supply store onto the counter before taking a seat on the furthest of the three barstools – the one closest to her six foot by three foot aquarium – by far her favorite feature of the entire shop. She loved to watch her vibrantly hued tropical fish swimming around the tank as they could always calm her on a stressful day.

"There's a schedule posted on the wall to your right," she informed him, "but most of these ferries have been on the same schedule since I was a kid so I can tell you that the next ferry over to Peaks leaves at 11:25am." She circled around to the rear of the counter and retrieved an alabaster ceramic mug from the shelf. "How do you like your coffee, sir?"

"As strong as you can get it and straight black," the stranger replied with a wide grin and for the first time since he'd walked into her shop, Jean realized he had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Damn! Where had this guy come from?

"Haven't seen you around here before…," she started making a little small talk and flirting unmercifully as she filled the mug nearly to the brim with the steaming dark liquid and expertly slid it across the countertop to her customer.

"Thank you," he replied, gracing her with yet another amazing smile. Was this her lucky day or what? "And, no – I'm not from your city. I sailed into the vicinity this morning only to have the bowline on my mainsail snap. They didn't have the proper tensile strength line at the shop I visited out on the island so the gentleman there recommended an establishment here on the mainland."

"Not sure I'd call Mac's Supply shop an 'establishment', but he's got the best inventory in the area," she chuckled.

"Indeed. Found a suitable implement to at least get me back home – although it'll probably take me a fair portion of the afternoon to get it tied off properly again."

"So you're a sailor?" she questioned, enthralled by this fascinating new customer. "You don't look like any sailor I've seen around these parts…"

"Ah… looks can be deceiving, milady," he replied with a devilish smirk. God, this guy oozed charm, she thought… And that accent… She could listen to him talk all day, but she had to keep reminding herself she needed to get back to work before the lunch rush. And besides – a guy this good looking, he had to be taken.

"Well, Sailor, let me know when you need a warm up. I've got to get the rest of my machines cleaned out and ready to brew before the lunch crowd arrives." The man nodded in agreement as he took a tentative sip of his coffee to test its temperature before placing the mug back into the counter and reaching into a pocket to retrieve his cell phone. Jean watched him slowly typing out what must have been a text message as she poked her head out of the alcove that served as the coffee shop's makeshift kitchen. "Might have to duck outside to get that to send," she advised. "Signal tends to be pretty weak in here."

"Thank you," he responded as he stood up, phone in hand. "Appreciate the advice." Leaving his parcel and the coffee mug on the counter while the beverage cooled, the dark haired stranger took a few steps toward the store's entrance intending to make a quick jaunt outside to send his message. He never quite made it past the racks of candy, snacks and chewing gum as he found his exit blocked by two individuals wearing heavy down jackets and ski masks pulled over their faces barreling their way through the door. It wasn't all that unusual for Jean's customers to enter the shop with their faces protected from the elements, especially on such a breezy, cold day with the sea spray being whipped up by the wind, but courtesy dictated taking off said coverings once inside. Something about their body language was off and Jean Scott's sailor-in-black-leather customer instantly sensed something wasn't right.

Because these two weren't customers at all.

Present Day

"Don't get me wrong," Jean Scott continued with her story, "this wasn't my first time around. I've had plenty of experience dealing with shoplifters and robberies over the years, but something about this time was different…"

"In what way?" Emma wondered, finding herself both curious about the crime and amused at Ms. Scott's description and portrayal of Killian.

"Most of the crooks we've dealt with around here have been kids. They burst in, demand money and take off or they sneak in, shove things into their pockets while trying to keep me distracted. Either way, these guys – they weren't in a hurry. They came in, locked the door and demanded our cell phones – all before asking for any money from the register or my safe. It was odd and I think your husband picked up on something strange right away…"

"You're right," Emma agreed, "what you're describing doesn't sound like a run of the mill robbery."

Deputy McCallen had been busy scribbling away in his notepad, absorbing and recording all of the highlights as Ms. Scott relayed them and despite his limited investigative experience, he was also decidedly skeptical about the criminals' intent. Even without knowing that Jean Scott's security camera was a product of the late 1980s, their unusual actions didn't make a lot of sense. Why would they be taking their time? Delaying and hesitating would increase the probability of getting caught – exactly the opposite outcome that most criminals would be looking for. So why did they lock the door and take their time?

"Did they keep your phones so you couldn't reach out for help?" McCallen asked.

"Sort of," Jean replied, motioning toward her aquarium. "They dumped both of our phones in there. I pulled them out before the Portland cops got here, but they were both ruined. They'll probably end up making my fish sick too." It was becoming clear that this shopkeeper was more than a little bit pissed off at the whole situation and it certainly didn't seem like it was just about the money. She was taking this personally.

"I wonder if Killian tried to send me a message to let me know where he was," Emma found herself wondering. "If he'd been able to get that message through, things might have gone a little differently and you might not have been investigating a John Doe for two days. At least now I have the explanation as to why his phone kept registering as Out of Range or Out of Service Area when I tried to ping it."

"I've gotta agree – you getting that message would have helped us both out – both my case and your nerves," McCallen stated with an awkward half smile, immediately regretting his choice of words as he didn't want to get too personal again. "Anyway, Ms. Scott, what did they do after they threw your phones into the fish tank?"

"One of them was waving a gun around, barking orders at the other," Jean recalled. "The second guy went after the register and then the bossy one came toward me demanding the money in the safe. He got a little pushy with me so the guy in leather – your husband – came to my defense. He stepped between that bully and me – told the jerk to keep his hands off me and got himself a hell of a shiner in the process."

"That explains where his black eye came from," Emma sighed, "but we're still missing a huge gap of time between this shop and when he was rescued from the island…"

"Me. Scott," McCallen interrupted, remembering a detail from the security video he'd watched that needed clarification. "On your security camera footage that Portland PD shared with me, you can see one of the robbers removing something from Mr. Jones' jacket pocket. Do you recall what that item was?"

"Oh, that – it was a gold coin," Jean stated, then continued with an explanation of what had led up to the image the deputy was referencing. "We had just heard the ferry horn sound indicating it was arriving at the dock so I warned the crooks that there would soon be more customers arriving who would be really curious about why my door is locked in the middle of the day. They tried to drag me with them but your husband wouldn't let them. He told them about the gold coin in his pocket and even offered them more if they let me go. He told them he had more coins out on his boat and I guess they believed him because they changed their minds and took him with them when they left instead. Figured his coins might be worth more than the hundred bucks or so that I had here in the store I suppose."

"So Mr. Jones might have been leading them out to his own boat when they took him hostage?" McCallen speculated aloud. Emma cringed every time they referred to the Jolly Roger as a "boat" hearing Killian's voice echoing in her ear reminding her that she was a ship, not a boat. "You said he'd been waiting for a ferry?" the deputy's question continued.

"Yeah – heading out to Peaks," Jean stated.

"So it's likely that he left his boat docked out there somewhere?" McCallen theorized.

"He mentioned something about a broken bowline and came in carrying a bag of rope from Mac's down the block. I think it's still around here somewhere…," Jean tried to visually scan the haphazard mess that was her shop right now, surveying the damage done by both the robbers and the police during their investigation. It was pure chaos right now, but she spotted the brown paper bag lying on the floor under the counter. "Oh - over there. That's it on the floor behind the barstools." She pointed to the bag with its top rolled down into a carrying handle.

"A snapped bowline could have taken his mainsail out of commission making it difficult for him to get back home," Emma lamented as McCallen retrieved the bag of rope from the floor. "Well, now we know what brought him to Portland at least. One more piece of the puzzle."

"If he did leave his boat docked out near Peaks somewhere, they likely would have had to pass by Little Diamond on the way out across the bay," the deputy suggested. "They had to have had their own boat because they would have drawn a lot of attention holding a man at gunpoint on the ferry…"

"And they definitely had a gun shoved into his back when they stormed outta here," Jean reminded them of the scene that McCallen had watched at the end of the video. "What happened after they left here? What exactly did they do to him if you don't mind me asking?"

"We still don't know all of the details, but at some point after they left your store, someone stabbed Mr. Jones in the back and likely tossed him into the bay to drown," McCallen replied matter-of-factly. "We've no idea how he got to the beach, but we're pretty certain he wouldn't have survived much longer if a couple of fishermen hadn't come along and spotted him."

"Damn…," the store owner responded with a deep sigh. "Good looking stranger probably saved my life…" she repeated her earlier statement then turned toward Emma with a sincere, empathetic expression. "Please thank your husband for me. I owe him a hell of a lot more than another cup of coffee."

"I'll be happy to deliver that message as soon as he wakes up," Emma replied with a somewhat tepid, half-hearted smile. She didn't want to appear rude, but the reality of the situation had just come flooding back with McCallen's straightforward description of what might have happened to Killian. He was still lying unconscious in a hospital bed – still dependent on machines to breathe for him, but he had voluntarily put himself into a dangerous position to aid a woman he'd just met – and Emma couldn't have been prouder. Yet at the same time, that chivalrous act had left him stranded unknown and alone in that same hospital bed for two full days and she just couldn't shake the overwhelming sadness and trace of rage that she was experiencing. She struggled to maintain her professionalism, hoping Ms. Scott and Deputy McCallen weren't witnessing traces of her internal battle with her emotions. There would be a time for those to surface – when they found the men who'd wounded her husband. "We definitely appreciate all of your help, Me. Scott. Thank you for taking time to talk to us."

"My pleasure," Jean replied. "And I'm sorry about my attitude before. It's been a rough couple of days – obviously not as rough as what your husband's been through, but I'm still trying to put everything back together and get back to work. Anyway, Sheriff, I don't know where you found that man, but you've got one hell of a catch there. Hang on to that one!"

"I plan to," Emma smiled, this time genuinely as she and McCallen each shook hands with the shopkeeper, saying their thanks before making their egress to the parking lot. They'd been here just under an hour – a tad longer than she'd expected and her heart was anxious to get back to Killian's side. They were now armed with some new information though and while a huge chunk of the puzzle remained missing, pieces were falling into place. Killian had baited his captors with a doubloon and undoubtedly did have more of them stashed out on the Jolly Roger, but was he really intending to lead them out to his ship? Had he offered himself as a hostage strictly to protect the woman? Was he simply leading them away from the store before making an escape attempt? Maybe he'd foolishly thought he could take on both of his abductors – certainly not out of character for him to challenge a foe who clearly held the upper hand, or in this case, two of them. She had to believe that he'd let himself be taken as their captive in an attempt to reach a position where he would have a tactical advantage, but his current predicament meant he probably never reached that point. Somewhere along the way, whatever plan his brain had conjured had gone awry – but where? Why? How?

Those questions remained unanswered and only Killian himself would likely be able to answer them.

Author’s note:  As I work for a cruise line, I'm familiar with a lot of nautical terms but since our company's fleet of ships don't have sails, I had to do a little research into something that would hinder a ship but be a repair that Killian could complete by himself. I decided on the bowline since it would be used to help keep the sail taut in the wind.

[lafayeeeeeet-blog]

Brace yourself

this is a collab fic between me and @mon-cher-angelique !, this is my  first time ever even writing story, so ya. (mon-cher-angelique is the true genius behind this, i was just kinda there) Mon-cher-angelique is also posting this same fic on their account too so check them out! (btw this idea was partially based off of @bunny-yams art) 

Word Count: 3900

Pairing: HamilSquad x Reader

Summary: The reader decides that it's finally time for some braces but what will their boys think? Will they even tell them. Only time will tell.

The clinically white walls of the unrecognisable office swirled around your body in a drug infused haze, a feeling of numbness having already surpassed your mouth and running downwards towards your legs. Any pain that your body was registering and attempting to communicate with your non-functioning brain cells were quickly being overridden by the anaesthetic that was coursing heavily through your bloodstream and rerouting your neurons to fall into a sublime forgery of blissful ecstasy. As you attempted to move your heavy limbs off of the dentist’s chair that you had been trapped within for the past 2-3 hours, you began to realise how heavy and limp your legs had become as the numbness spread and infected every nerve in your system. All because your teeth had been caged into a 3 year commitment that they never truly agreed to.

Your body slowly shifted, sliding down the chair in an uncomfortable and uncontrollable manner. The orthodontists was busy else where currently, leaving only the nurses to watch your embarrassing  fall to the cold, hard ground in the sterile office. You splurted out an incoherent string of apologies but every word seemed to arrive into the atmosphere in a forced and muffled manner, very different to the melody of chords that used to arise from that small box in your throat. Was this how you would alway sound now? Like a child whose teeth had never even arrived or a person wearing a set of teeth guards as they played a contact sport.  

The nurse took a minute to even comprehend what was going on but she soon snapped out of it and helped you off the ground, which took a few times considering you could barely move your body. Finding it a difficult process to even lift your body in this distorted state. The Orthodontist came in shortly after the nurse finally managed to get you back on the chair. He spoke in a very soft tone, almost patronizing yet despite your mental state, you could tell it was unintentional.

“Hello (Y/N), how do you feel?”

A slur of words came out and the orthodontist quietly chuckled to himself,basing his judgment off of your face that was crinkled in anger at the lack of movement your body possessed.  The orthodontist turned his back to you and gathered a bunch of tools that would be useful in this new, painful chapter of your life. With his back still turned to you, he started asking you pointless questions such as want color toothbrush you wanted. The decisions seemed futile so you simply pointed to a random colour which in turn the nurse provided you. Your whole mouth felt as dry as the desert and like it was stuffed to the be with cotton wool.

The doctor continued to ramble into you about care for your braces and the necessities that could no longer be avoided. Concentrating was possibly the hardest thing to do when the drugs were still in your system, your eyes never being able to focus properly on the orthodontists unattractive face. No wonder they had to earn a lot of money, if they all looked like him then they would need it. His hooked nose that bent to the left, his beady little eyes that didn't have a colour and his messy hair that wouldn't seem to sit still no in any direction. To be honest though, since you started dating your boys, you had found every male unattractive and staring up the doctor’s nose hairs did not improve his image. One of the nurses, you think her name was Maria, gently tapped the orthodontist’s arm to indicate that you were barely able to sit on a chair, let alone remember his easily forgettable monologue. Yet seeing how slutty this Maria dressed, she could have possibly tapped the orthodontist for a booty call or a quickie, probably the reason why her boobs were practically hanging out of her shirt for the whole operation.

“ (F/N), (L/N).” The doctor muttered as he stared down at his clipboard with your information on it. Look, he had already forgotten your name, probably something to do with Maria’s tits. “Due to the need to install some fillings and do some minor dental repair - We were required to put you under anaesthetic. It seemed to have affected you dramatically and as per usual, you are unable to drive and it is certainly suggested to stay away from all alcohol and any drugs that are not prescribed. As you are unable to drive it is required that you have someone to come and pick you up from the office.Do you have anyone? Do you need me to call your next of kin or your partner?”

You slowly shook your head, there was no way you were letting your boyfriend’s see these braces before you had enough time to adjust. You smiled as your remembered that you had called your older brother to come and pick you up, then you stopped smiling because of the pain. A knock echoed through the surgery room, causing the inhabitants of the room to turn and wait for the grand entry. A tall, frizzy headed man peeked through the door with a nervous grin on his face.

“That would be me, the most amazing brother this world has ever seen.” You groaned as Thomas Jefferson spoke, a cheeky grin lighting up his entire face. Gosh, why couldn't you have called Madison or someone? “It's alright doctor. I'll take them home and tell their boyfriend everything they need to know. they are just embarrassed about having to get them back on because they didn't look after them well enough the first time.” His gloating came as a sharp jab to your ego. It was true that the only reason you were needing braces this late in life was because you had some jack all to keep them perfect. You didn't wear your retainer, your dental hygiene was often poor except for a brushing and you never wore tight enough bands. Plus, What was all this boyfriend nonsense? You clearly had a polyamorous relationship - why wouldn't he just say it? You growled angrily at Tom as you crossed your arms and stared daggers into his skull. Why the fuck did you pick him?

“That’s great…(Y/N)!” The awkward pause between his sentence and your name was to provide time for Dr Reynolds to actually look down at your papers and find your name. You just wanted to be out of this hell hole and you wanted it quickly. Dr Reynolds handed Thomas  enough pieces of paper to make a small manuscript as rambled on about the importance of food and instructions on how to care for the metal cage in your mouth, all while you were just mumbling to yourself and fiddling with your fingers. You gripped your brothers long sleeve and tugged on it as gently as your fumbling hands could, quickly grabbing his attention. He gave you a kiss on the cheek and a pat on your head and gave you a hand single that represented that he would be just a minute. Thomas was a very kind, gentle man and he never left his siblings when they needed him instead he would take them under his arm and coddle them until he deemed any danger to be gone. His attention was quickly snapped up by the orthodontist once more before your tugging quickly began, making him sigh gently as he swapped the sleeve trapped in your clutches with his own hand as an attempt to calm you. He didn't understand what emotion you were feeling as the drugs continued to backhand you into reality. Once Thomas and your orthodontist were done talking, Thomas walked up to you and spoke softly.

“Hey (Y/N), you ready to leave darlin?” his southern drawl started to peak out. It was a creature comfort to hear your brothers natural accent. You managed to speak out a spluttered form of yes, embellishing the new lisp that you hadn't had for almost 7 years. Your entire body was flaccid and lax, your eyes barely managing to stay open as you narrowly attempted to keep your body awake. Thomas scooped up your slack body, which naturally draped itself and contorted to provide him a gentle grip so he was able to carry you. Thomas pecked your forehead gently as he carried you bridal style down the flights of stairs and into his imported, fancy car that your parents had bought him.

“Y-youuuu shaid that I had a boyfriend. I h-have four, shhhhithead.” You groaned. Everything about talking was annoying; your added lisp, your stutter and the elongated way you stretched out your words. Not to mention the pain.You were almost crying “Ow…”

“I’m sorry (Y/N). I know it hurts…I went through it myself remember but think about the positives. Your teeth will look amazing darlin! Heck, I will even buy you all new veneers so they are pearly white just like mine. Besides, your boyfriends will love it.” His words were met with an evil stare as he gently placed you in the passenger seat of the car, letting you do your own buckle because you were strong and independent. Plus he had copped a beating from you before and he didn't want to relive those terrifying memories - especially when you were in this foul of a mood. “The only reason I didn't mention them was because I doubt that Dr Reynolds would understand. So look, I am sorry. Just please don’t hit me while I am driving.” His words were gentle as he shifted his bulky frame into the hideously painted, custom maroon Lamborghini.

“Fine but-t onshy becaushue you ashked nicely, youuu fuckerr”

--------------------------------------------------------------\(•^-^•)/--------------------------------------------------------

On the drive home, you began to question the driving system of America - How the fuck had they let your brother on the road?If it wasn’t bad enough that you were already in pain, having Thomas speed over every bump as though he was a race car driver, almost made you break your word about no hitting him.  The wheels of his ugly yet expensive car came to a speeding halt on the bitchumen road outside of your New York apartment building, barely parking in between the clear white lines of the car space. “We’re here!” he said as he turned to you with a Cheshire cat grin spreading across his defined cheekbones.

“Shank Fuck forr shat!” you groaned as you quickly opened the door, before hastily unbuckling yourself. Your brain failed to recognise in its desperate attempt to free yourself of your brother, that the nerves which played a cumbersome role in maneuvering , your entire body were  currently fired, leaving your lax figure falling to the  unbreakable gravel beneath the custom wheels of your obnoxious brother’s car. Thomas was still busy trying to change the radio back to whatever songs he was playing before you infiltrated his radio system on the drive here when he heard the distinctive crash of your body colliding with the road. Thomas quickly threw off his seatbelt and dashed to the passenger side of the car only to see you passionately bombarding the ground with kisses. His grin disappeared to a flicker of worry before a hyena like cackle filled the air, how typical was it for you to complain about his driving in the most dramatically way even if you were high on drugs.

“My driving isn't that bad (Y/N).” He chuckled as he bent down to his knees and gave you his hand. Holy shit, had your brother had a manicure? Madison must have had something to do with this, you could tell. Taking his hand into your own grip, you let him pull you up so your feet landed gently on the solid floor beneath you.

A heavy groan escaped your lips before and words could be formed by your dazed brain. “For onsh I’mm not trying to complain about your shhhit driving” your new lisp heavily impairing your speech like a drunk man on his sixth beer. Your brothers laughter died down to a slight giggle as he propped your lax body up with his toned arms. Letting you balance yourself  on his broad shoulders in an attempt to disconnect you from your current partner, the ground.

“Alright alright, let’s get you off of the nasty, grotty road and get you home, I don’t think the ground appreciates how you are touching it anyway” with whatever body movement you had left, you rolled your eyes at what he said as he picked you up again to bring you inside. He bested your weight easily, as though you were no more than a feather, as he lead you into the lobby of your shabby apartment building that you shared with your boyfriends; Lafayette, Hercules, John and Alex. Stumbling, wobbling and terrifying was the only way to describe your fifteen minute long journey to level4, your apartment being on level 8. It was at this point in time when Thomas realized he forgot every document that the orthodontist had provided you with on caring for yourself in your…impaired state. “Fuck” he muttered aggressively. “I’ll be right back (Y/N), I forgot your papers. Don't move okay? No trying anything stupid, I need you to stay in one piece so the boys don't kill me”

He sat you down on the ground, giving you another coddling kiss on your cheek before he raced back down the flights of stairs to retrieve them. You sat there for the first five minutes just fumbling with your thumbs acting like a toddler who couldn't be left alone without supervision for 5 minutes without causing mischief. Some people passed by and they gave you strange looks, recognising you as that weird girl with four boyfriends from level 8 but you just shrugged it off. It had become normal for you to do that. You were starting to wonder where Tommy was, did it really take this long to get some papers? Especially with his long legs. After a what felt like a millennium of waiting, you saw your older brother nearly trip up the stairs in a rush to get back to you. You started to giggle wishing you could have seen him actually trip, the mere thought of him tripping made you smile. Something that Thomas hadn't seen in the hour and half since he picked you up from the orthodontists office, New York traffic was a nightmare.

“What are you smiling about? Oh whatever, it probably something immature, you are on drugs after all. Not that you don't laugh at stupid crap for no reason without drugs but you’re just a weirdo (Y/N).” He brushed it off like he didn’t care, but it made the fake French man ecstatic to see you smile, he loved seeing you happy. “Come on, let’s get you up stairs now before your boyfriends hunt me down and accuse me of stealing you”.

He allowed you to lean on his shoulders yet again before hiking up another four  flights of steep stairs to get you back home finally. As you reached your apartment, he knocked on the door loudly, purely to piss of alex because he knew alex hated that obnoxious loud knock, Thomas’s favourite pastime was pissing off your shortest boyfriend. Noises echoed from the inside of your home, the sounds of booming footsteps echoed into the hall as four men clearly raced to answer the door. The door was viciously swung open to see your four men as excited as Pomeranians hearing the word ‘walkies’ in an obnoxiously high pitched voice. Alex was the first to shove everyone other man aside in order to see their little angel arrive back home. You had left the house that morning proclaiming you had a doctor’s appointment but you never specified what that meant or involved, hoping that no would notice the embarrassing barriers clasping your teeth together. It was impossible not to notice a set of braces, so you knew it was best to keep your mouth shut and not say a word. What would happen if they kissed you? The last time you kissed a boy when you had braces, he cut his tongue on the snipped wire when he tried to French kiss you. Thank god it wasn't your boys.

“(Y/N)!!! My god your home. I missed you! How was your appointment?” His babbles bombarded your sense as you felt the short man jump into your warm and unexpecting embrace. His started planting kisses all over your face, once again resembling a small dog that had been away from his owner for too long. Suddenly is dreamy gaze turned sour, realising who the man behind you was. “Why are you here Jefferson?”

John had to stifle a giggle as Alex's face started to resemble an angry tomato, caught somewhere between rage and blushing. His furs with Jefferson managed to surpass the office doors every time he left for work, bringing his hatred for your eldest brother into the small apartment you all shared.

“I came to drop off my sister, fuck face. Don't look so surprised, I can show affection to people Hamilton. They just have to deserve it.” He retorted back with a cheeky smirk spread across his face, your closed fist colliding with his beefy shoulders in a hard punch. “Ow, piss off metal mouth. I am just telling your idiot of a boyfriend over here that I care enough to pick up my little sibling from the orthodontist when they had their braces put on. Where were they, Huh?”

You face palmed your face aggressively, letting a sigh out. Why the fuck had he said that?

“Orthodontist? Metal mouth?” John said confused. What on earth was Jefferson talking about today? . “Why would he call yo-” John cut himself off quickly realizing that you got braces. The men had known you used to have braces “Open up let me see” he spoke sternly. You tried to refuse, squirming you head away from his grip but eventually you gave in. The pain of having your face prodded and briskly moving away from someone's touch spread through your face, feeling like a car colliding with a tree.

“Oh mon amor…why didn't you tell us?” Questioned Lafayette as a pout quickly enveloped his face. His large eyes looking genuinely shocked and upset with your hidden medical agenda, making your heart break into tiny pieces.”Were you scared we would tease you? We would never tease you mon cher! We love you… why hide it?”

“Ish hurtss.” You cried back, your bottom lip wobbling as tears streamed down your face, clouding your beautiful eyes. “I n-no like my brashis.” You whispered as Hercules pushed through the men and hugged you tightly, slowly leading everyone including your brother into the apartment’s lounge room. Setting your body gently down on the couch, pecking your forehead gently, he was far to scared to kiss your lips.

“Do you mind dropping the affection? I'm here too you know and it's bad enough I have to see them kiss ponytail over here.” Said Thomas as he spread himself out on the couch, letting his feet sit on the coffee table as though he owned the place. You grumbled angrily as you have him a hard smack to the chops, trying to get him to take back the statement and to understand his place here. Alex looked fuming as he got up ready to start a fist fight with your brother, one hard stare from you brought your little lover him back to reality.

“If you don't lishk it, then pisssh off fuck facesh.” You spat back quickly, letting yourself be cuddled by Hercules. Lafayette seemed to think this was a hoot as he started to holler in fits of laughter, slapping his hand roughly against the side of the couch. Alex looked like the cat who caught the rat, a smug grin and a raised eyebrow with a small head nod let Thomas knew where he stood here.

“Your lisp is adorable baby.” Said John as he kissed your cheek gently, slowly walking out of the room and into the kitchen. You made grabby hands for your boyfriend as you watched him walk away, what was he doing? “Don't worry kitten. I am making you something to eat. What do you want?”

“Oh about that. Yeah, here's some papers turtle boy. It's says what they can and can't eat.” Said Thomas as he threw the white bag to John, filled with papers given to you by the orthodontist. Johns face contorted into a shocked expression, the colour draining from his face.

“What did you mean they can't eat popcorn?!?!” Screamed john as he scanned the typed words. How could they not eat popcorn or hard candy, that was there lifeline these days. All five of them would come home and make a bowl of popcorn and watch a movie, a small token of appreciation for the person who did everything in the tiny apartment. John attempted to win over his lover “I'll tell you what. We can eat it one last time, just the five of us,” all the boys moved their heads simultaneously nodded their heads, trying to get Thomas to catch on. “We can settle down and watch a movie. Snuggle up to the most beautiful person ever with the most adorable lisp I have ever heard. The five of us…Just us.”

“Fine, fine. I know when I'm not wanted here. Remember, my Mac and cheese will be nice in your teeth. Eat that for dinner.” huffed Thomas as he grabbed his distastefully purple jacket and gave you a small kiss. You loved your big brother no matter what happened and it was times like these that you truly appreciated him for what he is.

“NO YOU FUCKING DON’T OTHERWISE YOU WOULD HAVE LEFT HALF AN HOUR AGO RAT MAN!! BUGGER OFF YOU FUCKER!” Screamed Alex loudly, stomping his foot on the ground like an upset child. “AND YOUR MAC AND CHEESE IS SHIT THOMAS. “ he slammed the door behind your brother, not wanting to hear or see his political nemesis for another week until the next cabinet battle.

You giggled as you sat on the couch with your boys, your metal braces in clear view for your partners to see. As Alex returned back into the loveseat that you all shared, he carried a fluffy blanket from the linen closet. Draping it over your body before plopping down beside you. John returned from the small kitchen with a bag of ready made microwave popcorn, dripping in butter (just how you liked it) under his right arm and a bowl of hard candy in his left. He slapped them down on the table as Hercules put on a movie and Lafayette fiddles with your hair gently. Maybe having these braces weren't so bad.

“You knows, I love you boysh.”

“We know mon amor. We know. You know we love your braces and your lisp? It sounds adorable.” Questioned Lafayette with a wink as his arm slipped across your shoulder and pulled you close so that all of the boys sat together on the same couch with you.

“I know. My amashing boyfriendsh.”