#But Even Alex Can Tell This Stir Fry Suck

[albatris]

Snippet Sunday!

this week we'll have some Quinn attempting to be sweet and nice

God, what to make? They weren’t a cook. They especially weren’t a cook next to someone like Nat. Why had they offered? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Quinn dug around in their fridge, hoping it would be the thought that counted. Maybe a stir-fry…?

They threw some fake chicken into a wok, alongside some carrots, onion and broccoli, and turned the heat to high. High meant it would cook faster, right? They didn’t want to keep him waiting too long.

They dug around in their pantry for some spices. What went in a stir-fry? Ginger, cumin… cinnamon? No garlic. Chili. Paprika? Quinn didn’t know what any of these were used for. And none of that would make a sauce. What went into a stir-fry that made it a sauce?

Oh, hell, the vegetables were burning. Quinn flitted back over to the wok and turned down the heat. Should they have put some oil in? They splashed in some avocado oil, and then a bit more. Maybe the oil and spices made the sauce? They chucked the spices in and mixed them around. Quinn tasted. Nope, not right.

In a sudden stroke of genius, Quinn typed ‘easy stir-fry recipe’ into their internet search bar with their free hand. Soy sauce. They needed soy sauce. Quinn poured in a generous dash, swirled it about. If that didn’t fix things, nothing would. They were too nervous to taste test it a second time.

He’d like it. He’d like it, wouldn’t he? At the very least, he’d be polite enough to pretend he liked it.

They let the stir-fry simmer for a few minutes, then dished some up into a bowl. To their dismay, their pulse was racing and they felt a little woozy. They slapped themself in the cheeks a few times, cursing themself for being so anxious. What the hell did they have to be anxious about?

They ventured down the hall to Nat’s room, only to find that he was passed out asleep already. Their bubbling nerves immediately turned to irritation, and Quinn quashed the feeling. This was probably for the best, and they were more than a little relieved, too. Their stir-fry most definitely sucked.

Quinn bumped into Alex back out in the living room, freshly clean and free of gore. It had taken its braids out and thoroughly washed its hair.

“Here,” Quinn said, holding out the bowl. “You can have this.” In its current condition, Alex probably wouldn’t be able to taste the difference between stir-fry and dirt anyway. At least it wouldn’t go to waste.

“Thank you?” Alex said, a question. “Did you cook this for Nat?”

“No,” Quinn said, their lip curled. “I just felt like cooking.”

“Sure.”

“I’m heading out,” Quinn said. “I’m going to Nat’s stupid apartment to feed his stupid cat.”

Alex took a bite of stir-fry. “Don’t do anything reckless,” it said around its mouthful. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“No relaxing, got it.”

Alex rolled its eyes at them.

“Try and rest,” Quinn said. “I'll help you with your hair later on tonight.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I don’t need help with it.”

“Would you like help with it? And doesn’t a scalp massage sound nice?”

Alex considered this. “Hm. Maybe.”

“The word you’re looking for is yes,” Quinn said. “Just let me look after you a bit, alright?”

“Alright,” Alex said. “This stir fry is awful, by the way. Even to my uncooperative tastebuds.”

“I didn't hear that.” Quinn hopped over to give Alex a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon!”

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-22)

Word count: 5.2K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Anxiety, feels, light flirting?

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: Hey peeps, just wanted to thank you guys for all the love. Y’all are awesome! <3

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​. Thank you, babe <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Jesus, kid! Don’t you ever pull that one on me again, okay?”

Max was trying to escape his embrace, but Sam didn’t budge. His heart was still beating out a disjointed rhythm.  

“I didn’t do anything!” Max protested.

Alex was quick to interject. “You ran out on me.”        

Max turned in the circle of his arms glaring at Alex. “Only because you fell asleep.”

Alex’s face got all red and she sneaked a nervous glance at Sam.

“She’s got school in the morning,” Sam told Max. “She was tired. That doesn’t mean you can run out on her.”

“This isn’t the first time either,” Alex put in, emboldened by Sam’s support. “He ran to her on Sunday as well.”

“What’s this, Max?” Sam didn’t want to make his voice stern, but the fear wasn’t helping. Alex had called him towards the end of his meeting to tell him she couldn’t find Max. Sam’s heart had dropped through the ground at the mere thought. By the time he could ask Chase to pull out his car- Sam’s was still parked in the campus- a second call from Alex had already informed him that Max was back and okay. But Sam couldn’t stay put. He’d made Chase drive him back anyway.

“She’s my friend.” Max muttered.

“You’ve only met her twice!” Alex accused.

Max threw Alex a betrayed look, mumbling to himself.

Sam rubbed his face with his hand. “What’s happening?”

Alex started to say something, but Max interjected. “I want to tell him!”

“Alright, go on.”

Max told him about a new friend he’d made in one of the buildings along the playground, and that he was going to see her on Monday again.

Sam shot a look at Alex to confirm and she nodded encouragingly. Falling asleep on the watch might have been a one time thing, otherwise Alex was both smart and thorough. She wouldn’t have agreed to anything that wasn’t safe for Max.

“I can go, right?”

“Only if you promise to never go out by yourself.”

Max made an excited sound. “Yes!”

“Okay, enough of this moping,” Chase announced. He had been standing uncharacteristically quiet, watching the drama unfold. “Alex gets to sleep, Max gets his date and Sam gets to chill. What does Chase get?”

Sam turned to him. “What do you want?”

“Food. I want food.”

Alex waved to Max, who didn’t acknowledge it. He was still mad about ratting him out. “Bye, Sam. Bye, Mr. Lincoln.”

Sam nodded, and Chase waved at her cheerfully.

Sam let go of Max, not really looking him in the eyes, lest he should sense just how freaked out Sam was. That’s not what kids should see in their parents- the fear of being incompetant. Sam had learned as much from Dean. His older brother had been absolutely confident in every decision he’d made for Sam. It was only in the later years that Sam realised how freaked out Dean must have been attempting to raise Sam, even with Bobby and Karen’s help. They were all always second guessing themselves. 

The next hour was spent on a call with Stacey. She debriefed Sam about the end of the meeting, promising to forward the transcripts after she was done with editing them. He was lucky to have found someone as efficient as her. She was a blessing. Sam appreciated that her first words were of concern for Max. Stacey had designed Sam’s schedule in such a foolproof manner that Max was never neglected. He couldn’t have been more grateful. To think that they had started their work relationship disliking each other.

Sam took his time in the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of his anxiety. Just the very thought of losing Max was enough to decapitate him. Later, as he diced the bell-peppers, his eyes kept going to the sofa where Max was playing connect four with Chase, who was sucking bigtime. It was something they did at least once a week. Right now, Chase was going on at length about how awesome the cookies were, that he was stealing from a jar. Sam didn’t remember buying any cookies at all.

A sting in his finger made him hiss. Looking down, he saw blood spreading into the bell-pepper pieces and the surface of the chopping board.

The next minute small hands were taking his finger, blowing on the cut and guiding him towards the sink.

“You never pay attention!” Max admonished.

“What do you care?” Sam muttered, washing his finger under the steady stream. The cut wasn’t too deep. “It’s not like you don’t love worrying me.”

Max huffed. “You’re being melodramatic.”

“No, I’m not. Seriously, Max, do you want me to stop going to work? How am I supposed to concentrate on anything if you’re going to be a flight risk?”

“I wasn't running away from home, okay? I just went to see my friend.”

Sam knew he was overreacting but what else was there to do? Alex had sounded so frantic on the phone.

“Who’s this girl anyway?” Sam eyed his son, turning off the tap. “Is it Lucy from school?”

“Ewww nooooo!” Max cringed, making a face. “I don’t like Lucy!”

“Of course you don’t,” Sam grinned. He added more seriously, “Don’t push Alex, okay? She might decide to not babysit you anymore.”

“It’s your fault really,” Max shrugged. Chase who had gone to retrieve the first aid box- it was ridiculous he even knew where that was in the house- handed Sam a bandaid. 

Sam gave Max an incredulous look. “How is any of this my fault?”

“If you got me a mom, we wouldn’t need a babysitter!”

Sam barely even had the time to pick his jaw up when Chase started howling with laughter. He raised his hand and Max high-fived him.

“Wha- what?” He spluttered. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I told you, you had this coming, Samuel,” Chase chuckled, superior. “Even your boy seems to be scoring more dates here. And look at the little daredevil sneaking out to get em. What’re you waiting for? Divine intervention?” He lowered his voice just for Sam’s ears. “Even Steve from HR gets laid more than you. And he smells like Kleenex!”

Sam glared at his friend. “That’s it. Get out of my house! I’m not responsible for feeding you.”

“Now, now,” Chase placated, putting his hands on either side of Sam’s shoulders from behind and giving them a squeeze. “Look at these muscles. Such a waste to not have beautiful arms draped around them.”

“Well, there’s always you!”

Chase huffed, drawing back. “You don’t pay me any attention.”

Max giggled.

Sam turned to his son. “Max, having a mom doesn’t mean you won’t have a babysitter. Working mothers are a thing!”

“He’ll, at least, have quality food,” Chase put in. “All you feed him is vegetables.”

“You know what? I’m done with the both of you. Go back to that game you were playing.”

“No,” Chase shook his head. “This is more fun. Why aren’t you asking Jess out?”

“You know why.” Sam wasn’t as patient this time as he had been the last ten times, since Chase had been badgering him every damn minute. “Go wash your hands, Max. And help Uncle Chase set up the table.”

Max knew he was being dismissed, so he made a whole show of slowly dragging himself from the kitchen counter and heading upstairs at the speed of a snail. Once he was surely out of earshot, Sam hissed at his friend. “Drop it, Chase! You know it’s not going to happen. Besides, the last time was embarrassing enough. I don’t know how to face her.”

Chase rolled his eyes. “She’s a grown ass woman and super hot. You’re lucky she’s into you,” He paused, the sly grin dancing in his eyes. “That was like three or four years ago. She must be long past it.”

“I sure hope so.”

“I don’t know how else to convince you,” Chase sighed, dropping all the teasing at once. “Jess is successful, beautiful and so damn smart. If a girl like that can’t move you, I don’t know what else to do for you.”

“You can always give up.”

“No chance.” Chase ran his fingers through his hair. “I just keep trying to understand what’s holding you back.”

It was Sam’s turn to sigh. “I’m married.”

“No, you’re not!” Chase argued, with more emotion than Sam had expected, enough to make him face his friend. “This isn’t marriage, Sam. This is you holding on to something dead with both your hands. Let go before your hands start decaying.”

“Don’t say that.” The pain in his own voice depressed Sam. 

Chase grimaced. “What would I not give to see this girl! Who is she? Some supermodel? Is she gilded out of diamonds or something?”

It was no point going in circles with Chase over this. Sam knew from years of experience that he wouldn’t give up. 

“What was her name again?”

“It’s-” Sam’s gaze shifted to the base of the staircase and found Max standing there, face blank. “We’ll talk later,” Sam whispered, wondering how much Max had heard.

The dinner was a quiet affair. Sam knew it wasn’t so because Chase and Max were appreciating the sensory overload of how amazing his stir fry was. Chase was sulking and Max was lost in thought. After Chase had left for the night, Sam set to cleaning the kitchen. Max came to sit by him on the island counter, picking out a cookie from the jar Chase had abandoned. 

“How was your day?” Max asked and despite himself Sam chuckled. There was something so odd about the question coming out of a six and a half year old.

“T’was alright,” Sam told him. Most of it had been very boring, except for the evening scare and the morning lecture in which he was mere feet away from Y/N, every cell in his body hyper aware of the fact that she was there. It was pathetic and Sam knew it. “I do have a hearing tomorrow. I think we’ll win this one.”

“What’s it about?”

“Property fraud. Very interesting.”

Wiping the kitchen top, and hanging the rag on the hook over the sink, Sam came to sit by his son. “How was your day?”

“Very interesting.” Max smiled, but didn’t elaborate. Not wanting to flare up his earlier irritation, Sam didn’t ask him for the details either. Instead, he dipped his hand in the jar and drew out a Choco chip cookie.

“Is it because of me that you don’t go out on dates?”

Max’s voice was small, diminished even and it made Sam draw in a quick breath.

“Max!” He exhaled. “Why would you say that?”

His boy wriggled his fingers. “I don’t know. Uncle Chase is right. You don’t have any fun. I know it’s because you have to spend all your free time with me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Sam stated outright, shaking his head. “I know you don’t because not one second of the time spent with you has been a sacrifice. You’re my son. You’ve got to know that I would do anything for you.”

“Except get me a mom.”

“Mom’s don’t grow on trees or fall out skies, Max.” Sam reasoned trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “And don’t you ever say that I don’t have fun in life. We have fun, don’t we? I love that and wouldn’t change it for any girl in the world.”

“Not even for Y/N?”

Sam faltered, aghast. Maybe it was because he was thinking about Y/N so much already, or because Max didn’t usually bring her up, but somewhere inside him there was a nagging feeling that he was missing something here. Max’s question was natural in the context of the conversation… but the very conversation felt out of context. Max knew very well what he meant to Sam, and even if a part of him thought that Sam was sacrificing for his sake- Sam fervently wished that wasn’t the case- the Max he knew would never bring it up this conversationally. 

So he answered with complete conviction. “No. Not even for Y/N.”

“And you get this through your head, Max,” he continued, voice pained despite his efforts. “You and I are already a complete family. I love you with everything that I have. So long as we are together, you’ll make do with just me, won’t you?”

“Mhmm.”

Sam ruffled Max’s hair, and kissed his brow, rankled by his words. Regardless of what Sam had just said, wouldn’t it be nice for Max to have a mom? Even in his imagination the face was perfectly clear, the vision already there. He’d be lying to himself if he said that over the years he hadn’t thought about her holding Max, laughing with him. There was only ever one face that completed Sam’s daydream- Y/N’s. But Sam also knew just how impossible it was. Y/N wouldn’t even think of the aftermath of an accident, imagining her as a motherly figure was simply cruel. So much that the whiplash of it hit Sam’s conscience. It was why he hadn’t mentioned Max to her.

Trying to reign in his thoughts he absentmindedly took a bite of the cookie in his hand, chewing as he tried to dislodge the idea of Max and Y/N. Impossible… too painful, his mind screamed.

Abruptly, he stopped.

“Hey, Max? Sam asked slowly, “Where did you get these cookies?” 

“Umm, those girl scouts came over this afternoon,” he said, not meeting Sam’s gaze. “I asked Alex to buy. Is that okay?”

“You sure these are girl scout cookies?”

“Yep.”

Eating the rest of the cookie in one bite, Sam jumped down from the counter and turned to his boy. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t think like that again,” Sam pleaded. “That you’re keeping me from anything. You saved me, kiddo. I would have been barely worth anything without you.”

“Same,” Max quipped. And despite the absolute horror of the situation, and how true both of their words were, Sam found himself snorting. 

“Enough with the black comedy,” he ordered, “Lets go brush your teeth.”

“Yessum.”

Max leapt into Sam’s arms, and he carried his boy out of the kitchen. Sam eyed the jar of cookies one last time before switching off the lights. 

Friday, first day of Induction fair. It was going to be one long day tomorrow.

*******************

“Alright, everybody clear on what they’re supposed to be doing tomorrow?” 

“It’s 11:30 in the night, Y/N,” Seth complained, “We aren’t going to be any more ready.”

“I’m sorry,” you waved apologetically. “You guys should go home, I’ll wrap up the rest. I’m just nervous.”

“It’ll be okay,” Madison came to your side, putting her arm around your shoulders. “Seth’s just kidding. Aren’t you?” She turned on the poor guy who shook his head and you snickered.

“Okay, pack up y’all!” You called out to the people in the background busy with the last checks on the sound system. “We’re going to have a blast tomorrow.”

Cheers went up around you. One by one everyone clapped you on your back, offered smiles and went their way; only Madison, Brad and Rebecca remained. 

“Who are you taking with you to the Saturday night dance?” Brad asked.

Well crap! “A friend of mine,” you answered. You’d have to ask one of the guys if they were free Saturday evening.

“Hmm… Does this friend happen to go to Law school?”

“Nope!”

“We’ll at least have time for one dance,” Brad insisted, leaning next to you as you packed your bag. “Your friend won’t mind, will he?”

“Brad,” you sighed. “I’m clearly not your type.”

He put his hands up. “Hey, I’m not implying anything here, but if that’s what you got out of it…”

You ignored him, walking back towards Maddie. He kept up with you easily. “What about the dance? One dance is well deserved.”

“Okay, fine!” Better to just agree and get it done with. Brad left with a superior smirk and you wondered what was the deal with him.

“Brad’s a great guy,” Rebecca said. “I don’t know what kind of Prince Charming you’re waiting for that you keep turning him down at every opportunity.”

“I’m not waiting for anyone.” It was true. You had found someone who could put Prince Charming to shame and then you had lost him. Now, the most you could hope for was his friendship. The thinly veiled bitterness and longing in Rebecca’s voice when she spoke of Brad led you to believe that her dislike for you wasn’t reasonless after all.

At the quad, you stopped, letting the girls know that you’d be heading towards the library, to relieve Molly from her shift early. It was supposed to be your shift anyway, Molly was doing you a favor by subbing. 

“I’ll come with you,” Madison quipped. She waved a goodbye to Rebecca and the two of you set towards the library, your footsteps echoing in the night. 

Once Molly had left, Madison logged into one of the records PC’s and started working on the case studies for professor Whitman. Meanwhile, you logged into your mail to print out the schedules and itineraries for the speakers tomorrow.

Just as you were printing out the last set, your email pinged, alerting you to an email from Sam. It was ridiculous that your heart should leap out of your chest, especially when it was merely a reply to your assignment. It was past one, and Sam was still up checking coursework. 

Oh, how you wanted to reply back, ask him why he was up this late. But this was an official email ID. It would be wrong to get personal here. Unreasonable as it was, you were miffed that you didn’t have Sam’s phone number. Friends should be able to call each other, right? You could always find it out from the directory, however, you were stubborn about getting it from him.

“Hey, I just heard back from Professor Winchester,” Madison whispered, even though there wasn’t anyone else in the library. “I scored a 21.5!”

“That’s great!” You smiled.

“What about you? Did you hear from him yet?”

“Just. Scored a 23.”

Madison scrunched her nose, “I bet that’s the highest.” She sounded rueful, but you knew she didn’t mean any ill. “You mind if I take a look at your paper?”

“Course not.”

Madison read through your document carefully. “I can see why he rated you this high. This is great work, Y/N! I wonder…”

“What?”

She looked bemused. “In my email, he’s specifically pointed out all the good things and complemented me for my good work. In your reply he’s only pointed out the one flaw that cost you the two marks. He’s not said one good word about the rest.”

Maybe he thought you would understand, or maybe he was just too tired. If not commenting on your essay earned him ten extra minutes of rest, you were very glad that he hadn't.

You shrugged at Madison. “Maybe he forgot.”

“That’s not done,” she frowned. “You should ask him tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

A glazed look came over Madison’s face. “Remember the first time we were alone here?”

“We’d been trying to research for Mr. Winchester’s first assignment,” you smiled.

“And ended up stalking him instead,” Madison winked. “After I went home that day, I read up more about that sensationalised case of his. Really gruesome, the whole deal. Never pinned him for the type of lawyer to take up a criminal law case, let alone homicides.”

“What’s there to fight for in a criminal homicide?” You wondered. “Isn’t that DA’s job?”

You remembered a little from what you had read with Madison that day, over a month ago. Twin homicides followed by a legal battle over property inheritance. The deceased’s brother vs. the deceased son. There were also connected matters of custodial rights, abuse charges and adoption.

“It was really scandalous, Y/N,” Madison said. “You wouldn’t know because you didn’t live in California. It was all over the papers and news in LA. Ralph Simmons was this bigshot producer, and his on and off girlfriend- both of them shot by some drug pimp. A whole big racket came out with it. I think Mr. Winchester moved out of LA to avoid the fanfare that followed him everywhere afterwards.”

“When was this?” 

“Ummm… about two and half years ago,” Madison said. 

So before he started teaching at Stanford, and before his job at Acton Griswold. 

“Why would he leave a successful firm in LA and move base to SF?” You asked out loud. “That too after a successful stint? It doesn’t make sense.”

To your surprise, Madison laughed. “Oh, firms must be dying to have him. Even my dad offered. Apart from offering a junior partnership, Acton Gris must have paid him a ton of money. Besides, his working hours are more like a consultants, so he can manage classes. That’s a lot of relaxations- only someone with that sort of fanfare would have been able to negotiate a deal.”

It wasn’t the money. That much you knew. Something else had made Sam uproot his life in LA and move here. 

“Uhg! I really want to work with him, Y/N,” Madison let out. “I really want the summer internship at Acton Gris.” Seeing your expression, she quickly added, “It’s not why you think. I mean sure he’s super hot and all that, but I’ve looked up to him for his ethics, and the way he thinks. He’s just such a great lawyer.”

“Sure is.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” She said in a defeated voice. “Rich girl with a firm to her name, who could get in Acton Gris by recommendation as a favor. What’s the big deal, right?”

“Maddie, I wasn’t thinking that-”

“It’s alright if you do. Everyone does.”

You placed your hand on top of hers. “I don’t care what everyone else thinks. I care about you. The Madison I know is intelligent and hardworking, who deserves whatever she sets her heart to. Law is a lucrative practice. As long as you aren’t screwing over someone else, you should use whatever means you can.”

Madison’s eyes welled up. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N. Sometimes… sometimes I wonder if I even have any real friends who care about me. Becca… Lace, Mer… they all feel like friendships of convenience than actual substance. You’re the only one I’m sure will be happy to see me succeed in life.”

Your heart reached out for Madison. She was a good person who didn’t deserve to feel this way. Slowly you reached out and put your arms around her. “Maddie,” You breathed in her hair, not knowing what else to say. You had always known she was hurting inside without her having told you. Her relations seemed frivolous to you, but by the looks of it, her family life wasn’t much good either. Deep down she was convinced that her parents, her brothers didn’t love her. What must it be like to live that way?

You’d never been rich in your life except for those short married months, but not for a minute had you questioned the love of any person you called family. How was one supposed to live on without having the assurance of being absolutely loved?

The way you’ve lived for the past six and a half years, a small voice whispered in your brain. You quelled it immediately.

“Madison,” you said firmly this time. “I love you. And I’ll always support you. To hell with anyone who thinks otherwise.”

She hugged you closer, and you felt her broken breaths against your body. She didn’t want you to see her cry, so you held on till all her tears had dried.

********

You probably looked exactly how you felt- sleepless and exhausted. The first half of day one had gone smoothly with all introductions in place. Over two hundred and fifty alumni had RSVP’d for the event and forty two had agreed to speak or participate in panel discussions. You had been told this was one of the biggest turnouts ever. Instead of feeling like you had succeeded, you just felt more scared. Organised activity wasn’t your cup of tea. Right about then you were questioning how you even ended up heading this committee.

Everyone seemed to be asking for you, everyone had some or the other work with you and the tasks were never ending. The first time that you got a minute to sit was towards the end of lunch break. You dropped into the seat at the far end of the auditorium, head in your hands.

“Here!”

You turned your face to see Sam sitting next to you with a bottle of water in his hand. Unlike his usual self, he was dressed in a light knit grey sweater and jeans today. His glasses hung from the V-shaped neckline, revealing just enough for you to see the glint of his chain. You were so exhausted, all you wanted to do was fall against his shoulder and close your eyes for just two seconds. Sighing, you took the bottle from him and drank to your heart’s content.

“Maybe doing the late night shift at the library wasn’t the best idea, huh?”

You frowned. “How do you know?”

“The register,” He said. “I went to the library in the morning to return my book.”

“I thought you were avoiding the library like the plague.” The words slipped out before you could think them through. You hoped the bitter edge in them wasn’t very obvious. 

“I would come if I could, you know?”

“What’s stopping you?” You asked, belligerent, “Too scared to go back home in the dark?”

You knew it was unfair to put him in a spot like this. He had a home, his own bed. Why would he spend his nights at the library just because you worked there? Just because he hadn’t talked to you all that much lately, or given you his phone number, didn’t mean you had the right to be irritated at him. 

“Y/N-” he sighed, and before he could add on to that, he was interrupted. 

“There you are!” 

Chase Lincoln put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

You straightened your expression under the pretense of drinking more water, and handed the bottle back to Sam.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you said, standing up, “I must hurry back now. If you’ll excuse me.”

Sam stood up with you. The errant thought of resting against his shoulder made an appearance but you shoved it away violently. 

“Wait,” Sam put his hand out to block you. You looked around you to see if anyone else had noticed. No one but Chase.

“Let me introduce the two of you,” he said.

“Wait, I know you,” Chase interjected. “You work with Molly, right? And you’re heading the organising committee.” 

“Chase,” Sam said with gravity, making his friend focus, the green eyes sharpened on you.

Exhaling slowly, Sam turned to you. “This is Chase Lincoln. He works with me at Acton Griswold.” You heard the unsaid words- ‘He’s the one I was talking with that day in the coffee shop; my friend.”

“Chase.” Sam’s voice was heavy, the way Atlas’s might have sounded after a millennia of holding up the earth. There was defeat in it. “This- this is Y/N.”

Each time Sam uttered your name, a warmth settled in your chest. You suspected it was just your eternally besotted mind making up the idea that his voice grew softer when he said it. Apparently, that wasn’t the case, for Chase’s eyes narrowed as he took in the look on Sam’s face, then went wide in a split second. His head rapidly moved from you to Sam in a matter of moments, before his jaw dropped.

“S-... Your… “ Speech seemed to have temporarily evaded Chase. 

“No diamonds,” Sam murmured.

“Y/N!” Someone shouted for you from two rows down. “There’s a problem with the mic. You need to check it out.”

“Ex- Excuse me,” you mumbled, hurrying away from Chase’s astounded stare. Maybe he knew it all, that didn’t particularly surprise you. What did surprise you was how Sam had decidedly made the introduction- as if Chase had to know. 

As it turned out, the mic had only been disconnected. It was working absolutely fine. You were still grateful to have been removed from Chase’s presence, glad that you didn’t have to wait around to witness his judgement. 

The rest of the day flew by faster than you could have guessed. Most of the heavy panel discussions were scheduled for the first day itself. You were blown away by the immense knowledge and expertise of those people, which was a good thing because you desperately needed a distraction. 

You only saw Sam afterwards, once everything was over and the alumni were all catching up with each other, like old friends, reminiscing about the time they had spent together. Even though it was a lot of people there, your eyes kept going to Sam in his thin sweater, in a deep conversation with an aged man, who was laughing at something Sam had said.

“One down, two more days to go,” mumbled Madison. She was leaning against your back. “Can we just sleep here?”

“I told you to come home with me last night,” Rebecca stated, appearing out of nowhere. This time she had Lacey and Meredith with her. “Why did you have to stay up at the library?”

Usually Madison would’ve at least tried to answer. Today, her forehead and nose just dug deeper into your back. You pursed your lips so the smile wouldn’t spill over. She was taking a stand for how she deserved to be treated.

“Well, shit!” Lacey said. “Looks like I wasn’t wrong after all.”

Rebecca groaned. “Ugh she looks like an uptight bimbo.”

You didn’t pay attention to their conversation till Meredith said, “She’s definitely into professor Hotchester.”

Your head snapped up in Sam’s direction, but he was out of the straight line of your vision. Obscuring him was a girl, dressed in a pretty blue chiffon top and tight fitting pencil skirt. Her five inches long pumps caught the light of the setting sun and gleamed. She was tall and beautiful, statuesque in the way a swimsuit model is, her blonde hair fell to the middle of her back in perfect curls. 

As you watched, she threw her hands around Sam’s neck and hugged him tightly. He willingly embraced her, too. You chanced a glance of the smile on his face as she disentangled and laughed, touching Sam’s chest lightly with her hand. 

“Yeah, there’s something there,” Lacey whistled.

“Wonder who she is,” Madison whispered, so only you could hear.

You didn’t need to wonder who it was, you already knew. Jessica Moore. Sam’s Ex-girlfriend.

*******************

A/N 2: I kinda really like the next chapter. I think it speaks more about about the sort of writer and person that I am than most things I’ve written yet. Can’t wait to share it with y’all.

So any predictions? ;)

Thank you for all the reblogs and comments! Not gonna lie, life’s been kicking my butt a lot lately. Believe it or not, all of your love really helps <3

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[ti-bae-rius]

Rafael and Max QSA fic

Lightwood-Bane kids fic (mundane AU) – based loosely off @khaleesiofalicante‘malec parent-teacher meeting headcanons’. It’s also very queer-positive and I hope you enjoy. Also yes some ages are weird and yes I did totally manip some canon to make this work but eyyy all in the spirit of the AU. 

“Who was that guy with Max at the parent-teacher conference?”

Rafael looked up from his lunch quizzically. Frickin’ Capri Suns. Who designed those flimsy little straws?

“Huh?” he asked.

He and his friends had claimed a table in the cafeteria and, as ninth graders, none of the younger middle schoolers ever encroached on their territory. Beside him was his childhood best friend, Alex, but the other guys – Ethan and Zabi – he’d only met recently through soccer try-outs.

“My brother is in class with Max,” Zabi told him. “You know, Hakim? He said your dad was there with Max and a tall guy wearing loads of rings.”

“Oh,” Rafael said, understanding, and took a bite of his stir fry. Magnus made the best stir-fry, with broccoli and baby corn. He was pretty sure Max had spent the morning waiting for the lunch bell just like him. “That’s my papa.”

“What?” Zabi asked, looking jealously at Rafe’s lunch.

“So, like, you know my dad – he picks me up from soccer practise – and then there’s my papa and he works late but he’ll be at the game next weekend. You’ll meet him at our parent-teacher conference on Friday anyway.”

“He has two dads,” Alex clarified, not looking up from his comic book. He was on the last issue of The Vision and refused to be disturbed by trivialities like food, especially since he – like Zabi – had cafeteria lunch and today’s mac and cheese resembled neither of the titular ingredients.

“But your dad doesn’t look gay,” Ethan said and Rafe’s brows furrowed.

“How do you ‘look gay’?” he asked, making sarcastic air quotes with his fingers. “You can’t tell if someone’s gay by looking at them, dude.” While he was pre-occupied, Zabi’s hand shot out and Rafael batted it away. “Don’t even think about it. This stir fry is my life, Zee.”

“But, like, you play soccer,” Ethan said and Rafe stared at him in confusion.

“Yeah?”

“But your dads are gay.”

“Yeah?”

“So…they let you play sports? Like, you don’t have to do theatre or whatever.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know where to start with that. That was like you were trying to win a game of homophobia bingo.”

“It’s not homophobic,” Zabi protested. “You just don’t seem like the type to like guys.”

“I’m not gay,” Rafael explained, painstakingly slowly. “My parents are.”

“But they’ll probably make you gay too,” Zabi said, with a conviction Rafe almost admired in its boldness.

“Oh my God, is Alex the lucky guy?” Ethan laughed and Rafael stood up, packing up his food and pushing his chair back. “Hey,” Ethan called. “Where are you doing, man? We’re just kidding. Don’t be all dramatic.”

“I don’t want to talk to you guys right now,” Rafe said, sounding frustrated. “You’re being idiots. I’m gonna eat lunch someplace else. Alex?”

From behind his comic, Alex was flushed red and his eyes were wide and imploring behind their glasses. “Come on, Rafe,” he said quietly. “Sit back down.”

“Are you serious?” Rafael half-laughed, but Alex looked away sheepishly. “Whatever. And I have a lot of homework, so you can’t come over tonight after soccer.”

Shoving his juice in the garbage, Rafael began the task of scanning the cafeteria for his brother. Luckily, it wasn’t difficult.

Max was, Rafael believed, something of a disco ball; attention-grabbing, a hallmark of a good party, and sure to be a talking point wherever he went. This might have been at least in part due to his blue-dyed hair, that or his tendency to pull people along with him to partake in some kind of adventure. To Max, everything was an adventure and as much as Rafael pretended he was too cool to play games with his little brother, climbing fire escapes to snoop on college film classes to see movies for free was kind of badass. It was fun to be part of Max’s adventures, especially when they involved scaring themselves stupid watching slasher flicks through windows with the wind whistling behind them all the way home like the breath of the crazed killers in the movies.

Now, at lunch, Max was currently attempting to charm a girl from his class called Mina by clumsily juggling three apples. One fell and rolled under the table, disrupting his rhythm, and he surrendered with a grin of defeat. He ducked under the table to get the lost apple, laughing at himself along with Mina and his friends. He didn’t even see his older brother approach.

“Max, come over here.”

Max turned and glared at Rafael.

“I’m busy,” he said, before darting his gaze pointedly to Mina.

“Too bad, this is important,” Rafael responded. Max sighed and got to his feet, reaching his hands out to his friends dramatically as if grasping for help. Rafe rolled his eyes and beckoned Max over to a quiet corner of the lunch hall to talk. When he was satisfied they weren’t going to be overheard, Rafael started speaking.

“Did your friends say anything about Dad and Papa after your parent-teacher night?”

Max gave a puzzled look. “I…don’t think so? We haven’t talked about it really. Everyone has been talking about the fact Anjali’s parents bought her a macbook for passing the finals.”

“Jesus, maybe we should try and get adopted by them,” Rafael said, shaking his head. “What twelve year old needs a macbook?”

“Um, me hopefully?” Max said, and Rafe shushed him.

“That’s not the point. The point is that people are talking in my grade. Ethan is being a real jerk about it.”

Max wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Why?”

“I don’t know, but I want to find out if I just have bad taste in friends or if our school sucks generally. Try and find out whether your group has any issues.”

“What then?” Max asked, wide-eyed. “Are we gonna, like, beat them up?”

“What? No,” Rafe said, confused.

“Oh good, because I’m obviously very here for sticking up for Dad and Papa but I’m really more of a pacifist than…”

“Yeah, I got it,” Rafael interrupted. “I gotta go. I’ll meet you later to walk home.”

“Don’t you have soccer? You always walk with Alex after soccer.”

“Not today,” Rafael said grimly. He glanced over at the table where Max’s friends were sat. “That Mina?” he asked and Max nodded. “Good luck. Tell her she has cool shoes. They have Adventure Time characters on. Dredge up anything you remember from those clips I showed you.”

“I knew your YouTube spams would be good for something,” Max grinned.

“By the way, you have broccoli in your teeth.”

“What?” Max asked, sounding frantic. Rafael cracked up. “Are you messing with me? Gimme your phone!” Rafael held it up out of reach and Max snatched up a spoon from the table, inspecting his smile in the reflective surface. When he found nothing, he hit Rafe with it lightly. “You’re the worst.”

“Four o’clock, bike racks!” Rafe shouted and Max disappeared back to his table with a glare, making Rafe smile. That was, until he glanced back at his usual table and saw Alex looking at him over the top of his comic. Rafael’s smile faded and he walked out, ready to find a back corner of the library to start researching his ideas where no one would see him – especially not his asshole friends.

 “I think some of my friends suck too.”

Rafael looked across at Max. The two of them had come home early and let themselves into the apartment, but neither had spoken much on the way home. Max read a book on the subway home and Rafe had his earbuds in, both distracted. Now, sat on the floor of the apartment doing their homework, Max had finally decided to talk. It wasn’t quite what Rafael had wanted to hear though.

“Really?”

Max nodded, looking disappointed. “Some of them are cool. Mina thinks her brother might be bi. The guys were cool. A couple of the girls were weird about it though.”

“Weird how? Like…homophobic?”

Max shrugged uneasily. “I don’t know. They weren’t like, hating. If anything it was the other way. They were being all weird and squealy about it, saying how much they love gay people. They’ve never even met Dad and Papa. I guess that’s better? But it still feels…kind of bad. Plus, they were all ‘we could totally tell because your dad dresses so well’.” Max scowled.

“I assume they meant Papa,” Rafe grinned. “Dad’s sweaters look like he found them in a hedge and then let a rabid dog maul at them for good measure.”

Max laughed before falling serious again, closing his book, a ruler in the page to mark his place. “What should we do?”

“I have some ideas. Have you heard of a QSA?” When Max shook his head, Rafael continued. “So, it stands for Queer-Straight Alliance and it’s like a club where queer students and allies can meet and make friends. It’s about teaching people what queerness means and making people understand better. I think it’s a good idea. I’ve been researching it.”

Max was smiling, nodding. “I like it. Do you think the school would allow it?”

Rafe’s own grin was mischievous. “Who said we have to tell them? This would be underground, strictly invite-only. The teachers would never have to know. That’s the beauty of social media.”

Max gasped excitedly, punching Rafael on the arm in a gesture of respect. “Like Dumbledore’s Army? Oh my God, where’s our Room of Requirement going to be?”

“God, you’re such a little nerd,” Rafael sighed. “But…how about the old music room in the basement?”

Max grinned. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Oh, this is so cool!”

Rafael nodded. “I think it could be.”

When the door opened, admitting both their parents, who were laughing at the coincidence of them both coming home at the same time, the boys exchanged a look and fell silent. Rafael packed his stuff into his bag, and disappeared to his room, pulling his laptop out ready to do more research and send out mass-texts to relevant people.

 “Hey, get some sleep, blueberry.”

Max looked up to see Alec in the doorway, a hand hovering over the light switch.

“Max? Can I turn this off? Wanna switch your lamp on if you’re still reading?”

“What’s it like being gay?”

Alec made a surprised noise and then came into the room, sitting down on the end of Max’s bed.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, what would you want people to know? If you could talk to the people who didn’t get it, like those people with the signs at that parade we went to, what would you tell them?”

Alec pressed his lips together and crossed his legs on the bed, leaning on his elbows.

“That’s a good question,” he said, and hummed in thought. “I guess I’d ask them how they’d feel, if it was them, or if it was someone they loved. I just wonder if they’d think the same way if it was something about them that so many people were opposed to. Like if they’d spent years not being able to get married because they were blonde or whatever. You know?”

Max nodded and turned on his bedside lamp. “It isn’t fair.”

Alec shook his head, smiling wryly. “No, you’re right. It isn’t fair. But people can learn, if you’re kind enough to educate them. You just need to be patient, and honest, and open. Sometimes, it takes people being vulnerable for the people who disagree with them to see they’re human too.” Max smiled sadly and Alec put a hand on his son’s knee over the duvet. “Why do you ask? Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Max shook his head. “No, nothing. I just wanted to know.”

“Okay,” Alec said, standing up. “It’s a very thoughtful question. Thank you for asking me.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Max said, and flicked his bedside lamp off. “Actually, can you turn the light out? I’m kind of tired.”

“Sure thing. Papa will come and say goodnight in a second. Sleep well, blueberry.”

As the room plunged into darkness, Max pulled out his phone from where it was charging by his bedside. He pulled up Rafael’s text tab and started typing:

‘I have intel’

Rafael’s reply came quickly.

‘12. Music room. Tell your friends. I’ve snapped some others.’

Max liked the message and turned his phone over so any notifications wouldn’t wake him up. By the time Magnus came in to say goodnight, he was already fast asleep, huddled under the duvet as always, a small ball in the middle of the bed. Magnus folded the curtains so the morning light wouldn’t wake his son and closed the door softly behind him.

 “Well this isn’t quite the revolution I expected.”

Max kicked his friend Raja in the ankle and sighed. The two of them, Rafael, and a small group of trusted confidants were gathered outside Music Room 1 in the mostly-abandoned basement of the school, staring at the locked door in defeat. The lights weren’t even on down here anymore, all the lightbulbs long since dead and never replaced. The underlit chins of texting friends was almost eerie in the gloom. All that survived down here, like the aftermath of a nuclear war, was brooms and Windex, and the occasional scuttling cockroach. Internally, Max was a little disappointed. Mina had promised to be here, and she was nowhere to be seen. He sagged a little on his feet. However, on cue, footsteps ran down the stairs. The gathered group scattered behind alcoves and stacks of chairs. The footsteps stopped abruptly and there was the sound of breath catching.

“Um…hello?”

Max wriggled out of his hiding place at the voice. Mina.

“Hey!” he said, and cringed a little when his voice cracked. Ugh seventh grade fricking sucked. Mina didn’t seem to notice. She beamed when Max emerged. “We, um, we can’t get in. It’s locked,” Max admitted, and she waved a dismissive hand.

“Kit taught me how to pick locks. I can get us in.”

“Cool,” Max breathed. Behind him, Rafael snorted and Max blushed, pulling out his phone. “I’ll give you some light. Here.”

With the torch beam on, Max bent down by Mina, who was twisting one paper clip and holding the other in her free hand. Her tongue poked out of the side of her mouth as she worked and, bent so close, Max could smell her shampoo. When the door made a clicking noise, and she pushed it open, the whole group cheered and she flicked the light on inside, grinning proudly.

“Thanks for the torch,” she said and Max smiled, red-faced.

“It’s cool.”

“Right, so I kind of explained over text but I’ll tell you all properly what this is,” Rafael said. Everyone was finding seats where they could – atop amps and on the stools behind the drumkits or at the piano benches – but Rafael stood. Max had claimed a spot beside Mina on a table, her legs crossed and his pulled up to his chest. Before everyone, Rafael felt a little nervous. Max was the one who was good at talking to crowds, performing in front of people, not him. Nevertheless, this was important, so he continued. “Okay, so this is the New York Educational Institute Queer-Straight Alliance, or the NYEIQSA for short – well, not that short.” A smattering of laughter made him relax a little. “QSAs are really important. Max and I have two awesome dads but not everyone gets it. Some people feel bad for us because we don’t have a mom or assume stuff that isn’t true about our family. Sometimes…” He thought back to lunch the other day and sighed. “Sometimes people can be mean. A lot of the time, though, people say stuff that sounds bad because they don’t understand and that’s what we’re doing here. We want to educate each other. Maybe some of you have family who aren’t straight or cis, or maybe there are people in here who aren’t. We aren’t asking you to come out, and we don’t want you to out anyone else, but we do want to talk about it and make people understand. That way, we can tell other people about stuff and people maybe won’t be freaked out by stuff that’s different.”

“I was talking to my dad last night and I asked him what he would want people who didn’t like gay people to understand about being gay, and he said he wanted them to think about what it would be like if it was something they couldn’t choose that everyone got mad at,” Max put in, and stood up from his spot on the table. “Like, what if people hated you just because you had brown hair or green eyes or something. You’d think it was really stupid and unfair, but that’s just like being gay. Like, it isn’t fair to bully people for something they can’t control, and you can’t control whether or not you’re gay.”

“And if you have questions, we can answer them. Or someone else in the group can. And if none of us can answer we can ask our dads or someone we know. That way, we can all understand. What do you think?”

“That’s badass,” Mina grinned and some others nodded along.

“Show of hands who’s in?” Rafael asked and he and Max exchanged ecstatic looks when every arm went into the air.

 “So…when do you decide to be gay?”

“You don’t decide. You’re born gay, you just eventually come out – which is what it’s called when you tell people you’re gay or whatever. It can be any time. My Papa has been out forever but my Dad only came out when he met Papa and they started dating.”

Everyone was lounging around on random surfaces – the floor was covered with coats and sweaters being used as pillows – and asking questions. To their surprise, Max and Rafe weren’t the only ones answering. After the initial few questions, others started pitching in with their own answers.

“What’s the difference between polysexual and polyamorous?”

“Polysexual is being into many, but not all, genders,” someone said, who was googling terms at the back when a lapse of silence fell.

“My brother is polyamorous.”

A boy a little older than Rafael named Tavvy was sat with his legs out in front of him. When the room turned to him curiously, he sat forward.

“So, my brother Mark has a boyfriend called Kieran and a girlfriend called Cristina.”

“Do they know about each other?” someone asked and Tavvy laughed.

“Yeah, he’s not cheating on them. They’re all dating each other. It’s like…hang on.” He walked over to the whiteboard, where composition lines for music were written, and uncapped one of the pens on the windowsill nearby. He sketched a triangle with double-ended arrows for sides and marked them: M, K, C. “So, they’re all dating each other, see?”

Somewhere above them all, a bell rang and Rafael sighed. “That’s the final bell. We have to get to homeroom. This was really fun though. Ask your friends if they wanna come and keep this a secret from teachers and stuff.”

“When are we meeting again?” Tavvy asked and Rafael faltered.

“Um…”

“Thursday?” someone suggested, and a group mutter of assent went around the room. Two days. Rafael and Max exchanged looks. They hadn’t expected this to be such a hit, but they nodded.

“Thursday sounds good,” Rafael said, at the same time Max said, “I’ll make a group chat.”

The group dispersed and Rafael gave Max a grin. Maybe this whole group thing wouldn’t be so hard after all.

 By a couple of weeks in, a problem became obvious: the room just wasn’t big enough. The small music suite felt cramped and claustrophobic, and they’d slowly migrated into the neighbouring room; it was a bigger room that must’ve once been a classroom. Who knew how long it had been abandoned? It still had a chalkboard, so the chances of someone coming down here to find them was slim. Rafael, Max, and Mina had shown up early on their first session in the new room, rearranging furniture and covering the glass-front window with construction paper to mask any light. Eventually, into the amicable silence, Mina spoke.

“My brother came out.”

Rafael turned, smiling. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s bi and dating this guy. They’re really gross together. His boyfriend came over for dinner.”

“What’s he like?” Max asked.

“Kit’s boyfriend? Kind of weird, but in a good way. He’s a forensic psychologist so he uses really big words, but he’s also beat my mom at Trivial Pursuit, so I think he’s pretty cool.”

A knock at the door made them all turn. When Rafael saw who it was, he startled. He’d hardly seen his friends since their fight at lunch, had made only polite conversation. Now, here was Alex, looking shy and nervous, but hopeful.

“Um, hey. I…I wondered if I could join?”

“Sure, ah…” Rafael turned to Max. “You two go make sure the others know where we’re going. They’ll be here in five minutes.”

Max and Mina left, closing the door behind Alex, leaving the two boys staring at the floor instead of each other.

“I’m really sorry,” Alex said finally, pushing his round glasses up his nose.

“Why didn’t you come with me? Why did you stay with them when they said all that stuff?”

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. I…I didn’t want us to fight and I thought if I just stayed quiet maybe it would be okay.” He sat down on a table and looked at his hands. “I don’t know. I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Rafael nodded, sitting down beside him on the table. “My dads have missed you coming over for dinner after practise.” Alex huffed a laugh and smiled tightly. “Papa said your goal last Saturday was ‘better than a well-shaken cocktail’.” This time, Alex did laugh, but it sounded shaky. Rafe put an arm around him worriedly. “Hey, dude. It’s okay. I’m not mad anymore.”

“I’m just scared, Rafe.”

Rafael glanced across, saw Alex rub a hand under his glasses, and decided not to ask questions. He put his head against Alex’s shoulder and texted Max to keep the others in the hall until he said to let them in.

“You wanna come over for dinner tonight? Papa is making nasi uduk. It’ll taste amazing.”

Alex nodded, sniffing. “We’re still best friends, right?”

“Obviously.”

“What’s nasi uduk like?”

“Oh my God, it’s so good,” Rafael began, launching into an explanation. By the time he was done, Alex was feeling better, smiling. He gave Rafael a grateful nod, which Rafe returned. “Our adoring public awaits. You wanna stay for the meeting?”

Alex sighed, nodding. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

[amelia-blackshepherd]

Our Name

Apparently today is my 1 year anniversary with Tumblr. And to celebrate I wrote a story. Based on a prompt I received a few days ago. Set after Omelia gets married, Amelia changes her name on her lab coat.

On our honeymoon, which was really just us staying at our new house together having lots and lots of sex, anyway one night after Owen had fallen asleep, I had slipped out of bed and made a phone call. I had to be sneaky about it as I wanted it to be a surprise, we had discussed me taking his name well rather adding his name to mine. I was a successful doctor after all and the name Shepherd carries weight in the medical field, which can be both a pain in the ass and a blessing.

I hadn’t told Owen that I was officially adding his name, he thought I would remain Dr. Shepherd at the hospital, which was fine with him. But, I wanted to surprise him, so I made a call that night to Bailey to get me a new lab coat for my first day back.

After hanging up the phone, I grabbed a glass of water for rehydration in case Owen woke up again. I was just sliding back into my side of the bed when Owen’s gruff, sleepy voice sounded, “Where’d you go?” He cuddles up next to me, placing a few kisses on my shoulder as his arm slips around me and under my shirt.

I turn around, so I can be face to face with him, and wrap my arms around him, tugging gently at his red curls, “Water. Thought I should rehydrate.” I inform him with a happy smile tugging at my lips.

“Good thought.” Is all he says before his lips are back on mine and we are ready to continue our honeymooning.

Our first day back at work we drive in together, after another morning of mind-blowing honeymoon sex. I am so excited for Owen to see the surprise I have for him. When we get to the hospital, we ride the elevator together, he gets off on his floor and I continue up to the neuro floor. Or at least that is what I let him think, I actually get off on the next floor and then go back down to his floor, which is the same floor as the chief’s office.

I sneakily make my way to Bailey’s office, and knock once before letting myself in. I successfully make it there without Owen seeing me.

“Morning Shepherd.” Bailey says in a good mood as she takes a sip from her green health drink.

“Shepherd-Hunt.” I reply with a smile on my face. “And it is a good morning, this whole being married thing is great, makes everything seem better.”

She rolls her eyes at me, “Yeah, come talk to me after a few years when you don’t get any sleep because the baby keeps you awake.” She opens her desk drawer and pulls out my new lab coat, it is still wrapped in plastic when she tosses it to me.

I catch it with ease, of course, because of my quick neuro surgeon hands. “Thanks.” I say referring to the lab coat.

“No problem, Shepherd. And just so I know, you and hunt aren’t already at the baby stage, are you?”

Her question takes me by surprise, but to be fair Owen and I had started talking about marriage and kids and then two weeks later we were walking down the aisle. “No. No little Shepherd-Hunts.” I inform her and then just to tease her a little bit add, “Yet.”

I tried on my new coat and admired the name stamped on it, ‘Amelia Shepherd-Hunt M.D.’ I decide to head to trauma and show Owen my little surprise. I see him barking orders at the interns when I walk in, god I love a man in power, so I head over towards him sticking my chest out to draw attention to the name.

“Hey, Dr. Shepherd, looking fine as always.” Roy flirtatiously says in his usually way. Which only results in a small kind smile from me and Owen telling him to go lance an abscess in bed four.

Owen turns his attention to me, “Did you miss me already? It’s been what 30 minutes.” He teases as he pulls me closer to him.

“Well, that is a new record for us since we got married.” I play along moving closer to him, not caring how unprofessional this looks to anyone watching us.

Owens laughs and nods his head before lowering it so his hot breath dances across my ear. “Well we could fix that.” As tempting as that sounds, both our pagers go off, incoming trauma.

“Save that for later.” I tell him, patting his muscular chest as I head towards the ER doors to take care of our incoming trauma.

Roy runs over to walk with me towards the doors, he hands me a plastic cover and quietly says, “Thought you might want this, wouldn’t want your new lab coat to get covered in blood.” He throws me one of his arrogant smirks before he moves aside so Owen can take his place beside me.

Roy made a good call as our patient within minutes of getting her inside coughed blood all over me. Once it was clear she had no head trauma, I paged another surgeon to tag in and went to clean myself up.

Owen and I skipped lunch, instead we used the time to keep the honeymoon going. Afterwards, I started getting dressed, “What are you doing, Amelia? Stay.” Owen whines which only causes me to laugh at his pathetic attempt at persuading me to stay.

“I’m hungry Owen, let’s go get some food. You can show off your hot wife to everyone.” I say, moving closer to him as I put my lab coat on trying to subtly draw his attention to the name on it.

A smile spreads across Owen’s face, “Oh, I am hungry too, but not for food.” He says pulling me back on top of him.

“Owen, I am serious.”

“So am I. Now take off this lab coat and your clothes and then we can see about getting you some food.” He commands, pushing the lab coat off my shoulders so it falls on the floor. I am going to argue more, but then his lips are sucking on my neck and his hands a lighting a fire across my skin, and I lose all fight left inside me.

It had been a week since I got my new lab coat and so far, Owen was as clueless as an intern. “Hunt still hasn’t noticed the new name?” Alex asks entertained by the frustrated scowl that has been on my face for the duration of our conversation.

“No. And I am running out of ideas of how to get him to notice it.” I sigh. “I’ve tried talking to him, hinting at it, walking so the name is clearly showing, hell, I have even thrown it at him with the name facing him. And he still didn’t notice.” I rattle off some of the ways I had attempted to get Owen to notice it, so much for a romantic gesture.

“Wait, you threw it at him and he still didn’t notice?” Alex’s asks clearly confused how Owen could have missed that.

Meredith chuckles and gives Alex a light elbow and then fills him in, “She was probably taking off her clothes when she did it.”

“Oh. Yeah that might have been why he missed it.” Alex agrees.

“Well do either of you have any ideas?” I ask, slumping back in my chair.

Meredith shrugs her shoulders and steals a fry from Alex’s plate. But Alex offers an idea, “Have you tried wearing nothing expect the lab coat. Then he doesn’t have much else to think about.”

“Except what is underneath.” Meredith points out.

Alex’s nods as he pops a handful of fries into his mouth, “Yeah, well just don’t take it off till he notices.”

I think it over in my head, it might actually work, “Thanks Alex that isn’t a bad idea.”

Alex proudly puffs up his chest and then adds, “Or you could do it somewhere public. That way you know Hunt won’t take it off you right then. Like tomorrow at lunch in the cafeteria.”

Meredith gives him a light slap on his head. And I tell him, “And that is a bad idea.” On that note I get up and leave the table.

Owen is in surgery the rest of the day, which means I don’t have anymore chances to try and get him to notice the new name. I check in with him to see if he will be home for dinner tonight, he said he should be home by seven.

I head home after doing my final rounds, making sure to bring my lab coat home with me instead of leaving it in my locker. Once home, I decided I should cook something and taking Alex’s advise I decided to cook in nothing but my lab coat.

I decide on making us chicken alfredo, as pasta is my second-best dish behind waffles, and spaghetti would be way to messy to cook with my white lab coat. I don’t finish cooking the meal until Owen texts me to say he is on his way home, I didn’t want to make him eat cold food.

I hear the doorknob click as the door opens, revealing a very tired looking Owen. I am just stirring the sauce when he comes into the kitchen and stops short. I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips as I look at him, staring at me, eyes wide with his jacket half on half off as he had stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me, standing in the chicken cooking, with nothing back my lab coat on.

“Like what you see?” I quip, I already know he does. He still has not regained his speech skills, so he simply nods, his eyes don’t leave me as he runs them up and down my body.

After a minute he finds his voice, “The only thing that could make it better was if we got rid of this lab coat.” He has a wicked grin on his face as he moves towards me, grabbing the hem of the lab coat.

I feel his warm, strong hand on my leg, but I ignore it and take a step back, “Supper is just about ready.”

“It can wait.” He tries again moving closer to me, putting his hand on my lower back and holding me against him, to keep me from moving away this time.

“Later, Dr. Hunt.” I inform him, a little annoyed that yet again he didn’t notice my new name. I mean what else could I do, I literally took everything else away, he had to notice it this time. “I actually worked hard on this.” I say referring to the dinner, but a small part of me meant the display I put on for him, so he would notice the damn name change.

He smiles at me and loosens his grip, so I can move away. I go to the cupboard to grab plates for dinner, but I turn around when he says, “I know you did, Dr. Shepherd-Hunt.” He must have noticed the shocked look on my face as he explained with a hearty laugh, “What? You thought I hadn’t noticed the new lab coat with the new name. My name? Our name? I love it, Amelia.”

I hate him for playing this game with me, but the way he looks at me and the fact that he did notice makes my heart and other parts of my body ache for him. “How long have you known?” I ask.

“Oh, well let’s see.” He says coming closer to me again, “We came back from our honeymoon and you ‘secretly’ went to the chief’s office. And then came prancing into the ER with your new coat that just so happens to have my name on it.” He acts like it was no big deal, but I can see behind his goofy smile how glad he is I took his name.

I shake my head at him, how could he have pretended not to notice this whole time! “So, you knew this whole time? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because, I wanted to wait till I got this, before I told you I knew.” He says pulling a plastic wrapped lab coat out of a bag he had hid when he came in.

“And what exactly is that?” I ask.

In response he opens it up and puts on his new lab coat, he presses down on the name, and when he removes his hand I see written in little blue letters, ‘Owen Shepherd-Hunt M.D.’

I can’t control the smile that spreads across my face, “Did you really?”

“You aren’t the only one who can do romantic gestures.” He teases.

“You are right Dr. Shepherd Hunt, but I am the only one who can do this.” I say as I jump up and wrap my legs around his waist and pull him into a hot passionate kiss.

When we separate he looks over at the food and says, “What about supper?”.

“Screw supper.” I say with defiance in my tone.

“I’d rather screw you.” He says as he sets me down and slams my back into the kitchen cupboard, instantly ours mouths are back together.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Poison From Your Sweet, Sweet Lips

After hunting for thirty-plus years, it takes a lot to really send Dean into a downward spiral. But a recent case stirs up some desires he thought he left far in the past, and leaves him feeling shaken. But just what did he see, what does he want, and how can he recover from the shock and horror of what waits in the night?

(Set sometime after Jack and Mary get back from the Apocalypse World, where Michael and Lucifer were defeated, Gabriel runs Heaven, and Jack hunts with the Winchesters.) (ao3)

           He didn’t mean to break the skin. It just wouldn’t stop tingling, itching – burning. Dean wasn’t even sure how long he’d been scraping his nails up and down his arm, focusing on the sensation more than the words and images and feelings from earlier in the day. Pushing those thoughts and memories down further and further so they don’t rise and spill over from his throat and out his mouth. Now, instead of staring at his wall he’s mesmerized by his bloodstained nails, and how he can’t stop picking, and the trail seeping down his arm, over his pale, unblemished flesh.

           ‘It’s not there,’ he thinks, ‘It’s gone.’

           ‘But you miss it don’t you?’

           He shivers, eyes fluttering closed as his voice speaks up. It scrapes at the back of his mind, clawing its way back up. Sending shivers up his spine like the first hit after years of sobriety.

           ‘The power…’ he continues, ‘The freedom…’

           “Shut up,” Dean growls, digging deeper into his arm. The pain dulls the other’s voice somewhat, but it carries on like a bad song at a party. And no matter how far into the bathroom Dean tries to hide, how powerful the faucet water is, he can still hear it through the thin walls of his mind.

           He hadn’t thought about him in forever, but today’s events have proven that no matter how hard he tries to salt and burn the past, it’ll still be there to haunt him.

           “So what’s the story?”

           Dean leans against Baby, watching as Sam and Cas make their way over to him and Jack. The Nephilim distracts himself on his phone, only glancing up to smile at the two before continuing scrolling.

           Sam reaches them first. “Same as the witnesses,” he shrugs, “There’s no connection between any of the victims.”

           “What’s left of them anyway,” Cas says.

           Dean raises a brow, “…Left?”

           “We were able to see the victims’ bodies,” he explains, “Thankfully whoever did this didn’t take their identifications. Only because the police would never have been able to find out whose parts they found.”

           “Holy –” Dean huffs, stomach turning. It shouldn’t get to him, this many years into the job, but knowing what a half-there corpse means still makes his nerves fry and his knees knock together. “So,” he continues after a deep breath, “what are we thinking? Werewolves?”

           “There weren’t any hearts on the bodies,” Sam says, “But… the spread of the victims doesn’t match up with any lunar cycles.”

           “And we don’t have any reason to believe vampires either,” Cas adds, “At least two of the victims were reported missing early morning, and discovered before the sun had set.”

           “How does that rule out vampires?” Jack, phone away, blinks up at them. “I mean,” he continues, “Couldn’t they have had help? From my conversations with Alex, vampires were not above using humans as bait.”

           “Maybe,” Sam says, “But get this, when they swept the area for clues, one of the officers strayed from the pack.”

           “And?”

           “And they found her,” Cas pulls out the photo from his trench coat, handing it to Dean, “They didn’t hear a thing.” Dean forces himself to look at the grisly scene. The young woman, probably fresh from the academy, hangs from her own intestines. A once blue, pristine uniform was stained with her blood.

           “So,” Dean hands the picture back, “We’re looking for… what, exactly?” Sam and Cas share a look, one that doesn’t sit well with Dean.

           “We’re… not sure,” Sam starts, “Every new angle we get on this pulls us farther and farther away from anything we’re used to dealing with.”

           “So, what?” Dean asks, “We’re looking at something new here?”

           “I’m not sure…”

           Dean turns to Cas, now. The angel is looking at his feet, hands stuffed into his jacket. His face creases, and Dean watching the gears spinning as he tries to work through his thoughts.

           “What’re ya thinking, Cas?”

           “The bodies… I don’t know,” he says, words slow and unsteady, “When we were examining them, I sensed this – this energy. It was… familiar.”

           “So angels?” Dean asks, Jack and Sam leaning in with interest.

           “Not angels,” Cas shakes his head, “Demonic… with a little something extra.”

           “Demons would fit,” Sam says, “But there weren’t any signs – no weird weather patterns, cattle deaths. I even asked the sheriff if he smelt any sulfur! Not a thing.”

           “Still…”

           “Look,” Dean cuts in, clapping a hand on Cas’s shoulder, “We don’t have much to go on but that. I say, until we find anything else, we treat this as a demon hunt.” Cas smiles at him, causing his stomach to flip in an all-new way – a way he likes. He squeezes once more before dropping his hand back to his side.

           Sam waits a beat, but agrees with them. “So,” he says, “since we have an… idea of what we’re hunting, I think we should strike before anyone else gets hurt.”

           “Where would we begin?” Jack asks him, “All these people were taken in different parts of the city?”

           “But their remains were all found at the entrance of the woods,” Cas says, “They weren’t always consistent… but at least four of the victims were found near this stream on the East side.”

           “So we start there,” Dean says, “We should split up –“

           “Split up?” Sam splutters, “Are you serious?”

           “What?”

           “This… this thing –“

           “Probable demon.”

           “Demon, monster – whatever!” Sam barks, “It’s already got twenty-two bodies under its belt –“

           “Twenty-two?” Dean blinks, his throat suddenly dry, “We… why didn’t we get that in the report?”

           “A lot of them didn’t have enough left behind for identification,” Sam shrugged, sadly, “Police think the perp might have started in on homeless people or tourists – those that no one in the town might have noticed.”

           Dean wipes a hand down his face, sucking in a harsh breath between clenched teeth. “That’s just great,” he mutters, “Really freakin’ great… all those… all those people –“

           “It’s strong, whatever it is, Dean,” Sam continues, “we can’t be certain that splitting up won’t just make it easier for them to take us out.” Dean tries not to let his brother’s worry get to him, but he’s still focused on the number of people they were too late to save. He’s spiraling, but thankfully Cas clears his throat before he freefalls.

           “I’d agree with you, Sam,” Cas speaks up, drawing the brothers’ attention, “But I’m going to have to side with Dean on this one.”

           “Cas…”

           “Look at the time, Sam,” he says, “I think that by splitting up, we’d be able to cover more ground before the sun sets and by then numbers wouldn’t matter. The monster has better knowledge of the surroundings, so if we want to put an end to this now, we must act quickly.”

           Sam frowns, his cheeks dimpling in dissatisfaction. “Still…”

           “Jack and I will be in constant communication,” he adds, “That way, if Dean and I find anything, I can alert you and vice versa.” He looks at Dean, “Besides, I think we’ve handled enough crises together that as long as none of us face this threat alone, we’ll be alright.” Dean smirks the tiniest bit, looking at Sam. The look on his brother’s face is exasperated, but fond.

           “Alright,” Sam relents, “Jack? You good with this plan?”

           “I want to end this,” he says, “This seems like the best plan we have.”

           “Great!” Dean claps, drawing all eyes to him, “Let’s get moving, then. Cas, take shotgun – that way he doesn’t have to move when we drop you and Jack off, Sam.” The younger Winchester huffs something under his breath, rolling his eyes and stuffing his long frame into the backseat next to Jack.

           Cas opens the door, but pauses with one foot on the frame. Dean catches his eye, raising his brow in question. “Nothing,” Cas says, “Just… appreciating the power.”

           “Shotgun doesn’t hold much of a sway,” Dean scoffs, “I mean, you can’t pick the music.”

           “…Can’t I?”

           He quirks his own brow to match Dean’s – in challenge. Dean doesn’t want to be the first to turn. But the fierce intensity of Cas’s gaze is like coal under his feet, and he can’t handle the burn. He ducks his head in defeat, “…We’ll see.”

           Cas’s choices aren’t that bad.

           The sun is just starting to set over the horizon. Dean and Cas have been at this for hours, but after passing the same tree for the third time, he’s ready to call it quits. Pressing himself against the small carving, he whistles over to Cas, who has taken to the birds.

           “Yes, Dean?” he asks, trotting over the brush and thistles coating the ground, “Did you find anything?”

           “Only a pinecone in my boot,” Dean grumbles, “I think we’re barking up the wrong tree – pun intended. Whatever was lurking in these woods must only come out at night.”

           “I’m not sure,” Cas tells him, turning, “The energy here is… off. The animals feel it, and it has been throwing certain balances into upheaval.” Birdsong catches their ears, and Dean tries to quell the soft coo working its way up his throat at the sight of Cas, nodding along in conversation.

           He pushes himself off the tree, wiping his hands. “So,” he says, “Did the birds see where the monster went or what it looks like? You gonna make ‘em sing like a canary?”

           Cas looks at him, squinting and tilting his head. “…It’s not a canary, Dean,” he says, seriously, “It’s a blue jay.”

           Dean nearly snorts a chuckle, but someone beats him to it. Its raucous laugh rings out, bouncing against the trees, and startles the birds from their perch. The sound is followed with harsh ruffling and heavy steps.

           Dean meets Cas’s wide eyes, “Shit.” They give chase, Dean taking lead, knocking away heavy branches and jumping over fallen logs, Cas trailing behind. Dean can barely make out the creature, its shadowy figure darting just out of sight – always a few steps ahead of them.

           He’s rounding the bend when he hears it – the crack of wood caving in on itself. Dean looks to his left where a large oak hurdles towards him. He’s frozen, gaping up as the trunk comes closer and closer until –

           “Dean!”

           He’s pushed away, tumbling with the weight of someone else down a steep hill. They roll until they reach the bottom, curving into a barren field. Dean opens his eyes, ready to fight, only to be face to face with Cas. His blue eyes are flitting all across Dean’s face. He’s pinned him there, squeezing his wrists too tight to be comfortable or fun.

           “Are you okay?” Cas asks him.

           Dean sighs, “Yeah… yeah, you got me out of there at the last second.” He pushes up, forcing Cas to kneel between his legs. He scratches at his neck and looks back up at the hill, where the jagged remains of the tree sit ominously. “That was real close,” Dean says.

           “Too close,” Cas says, “I should let Jack and Sam know where we are.“

           “Why bother?” Dean huffs, standing. He holds a hand to Cas, pulling the angel up alongside him. “I mean,” he continues, “Not like we know where he went.”

           “He?”

           “I’m pretty sure,” Dean shrugs, “Height, build… didn’t get a good look at the face but that voice? It’s a dude.”

           “Very well,” Cas powers on, “Still, we should check in. It’s going to be dark soon, and I don’t believe we’ll be out of the woods when the sun sets. If we meet up, we will have more eyes.”

           Dean doesn’t want Sam to make his way over. He didn’t tell Cas, wasn’t sure how to bring it up, but he recognized the laugh. It cut clear through his heart, scraping like nails on chalk in his mind. Made his heart stop and throat close. The only problem is he couldn’t match the sound to a face or a name. His body had such a striking physical reaction, but for the love of him he couldn’t connect the dots. The string is hanging in the wind, dangling precariously over the dark chasm of his memories, reaching out. But either he can’t remember… or he doesn’t want to.

           And if it’s the latter, then it’s for a good reason – one that warrants Sam being far away from here.

           Snap.

           They turn to their right, where the sound came from. Dean pulls out his gun, finger perched on the trigger. From the gleam of silver Dean catches at the corner of his eye, he can tell Cas is ready with his blade. They take a tentative step forward, only to jump back when something flies out.

           Dean fires first, the gunshot echoing and scaring off even more animals.

           It didn’t even matter – all Dean did was waste a round. Lying at their feet was a dead bird – a blue jay. Probably not the one from earlier, but he couldn’t tell. Cas would know.

           Snap.

           “He’s playing with us,” Cas says, kneeling towards the creature. He scoops it into his hands and glares at it. After a few seconds, his concentrated frown deepens into annoyance.

           “Cas?”

           “My powers,” he whispers, going wide-eyed, “I can’t… I can’t heal him.” Dean looks towards the bush, where the monster snaps another twig, more impatient than before.

           “We’ll be walking into a trap, won’t we?”

           “Most likely,” Cas says, leaning back down to let the dead bird slip softly from his hands. He covers it with fallen leaves and offers a few words in Enochian. He stands at full height, the softness in his eyes shedding into a hard fury. “Whatever we’re facing… he’s powerful. And…”

           “And?”

           “Familiar,” Cas says, again, frustrated, “I can’t help but feel we’ve faced something like this before. It’s like hearing a song… but the melody is off, and the words are not quite the same… I’m sorry if I sound –“

           “No, no,” Dean assures him, “I… I get it. I feel the same way… sort of.” Cas tilts his head, as if to ask how, when another animal is thrown from the brush: a tawny rabbit, neck broken. Its lifeless eyes stare up at them, and cut their conversation short.

           “We shouldn’t keep him waiting,” Cas says instead, walking forward. He looks back at Dean, “Coming?”

           “Right behind you.”

           Dean brings up the rear – alert to whatever might come at them from the side. The angel doesn’t look anywhere but ahead. They follow a marked path, the monster slicing and slashing into tree bark, giving the wood an eerie smile. Dean brushes a few fingers against one and bites back a gasp, the electric shock firing up his hand and leaving fresh tingles in its wake.

           He keeps his hands to himself after that.

           Cas and Dean stop soon enough in another clearing. There’s no sign of life – creature, animal, or plant. The grass is dry and grey, crumbling underfoot wherever they step. There’re carcasses and bones littered everywhere, and Dean gags when he recognizes what looks like a femur. It’s too much, the smell of rotting flesh hitting his nose and sending his brain into overdrive. He searches for Cas, gripping his free hand.

           “Any,” he struggles, voice wavering, “Any word from Jack?”

           “I sent out a prayer,” Cas says, “It’s up to them to find us in time.”

           Snap!

           There’s a large cave a few yards away. Its smooth rock entrance is painted in blood, and the bones planted at its ground only serve to make the mouth look more terrifying.

           That’s where the sound came from.

           “I’ll take ‘Creepy Murder Hideouts’ for $2000, Alex,” Dean mumbles. Cas’s stare assures Dean his humor is not appreciated. He squeezes Cas’s hand in apology before letting it drop, re-centering himself, and tuning the horror around them out.

           “Well,” Dean says after a while, “It’ll be rude to keep him waiting.” He steps forward, leading the charge. Cas stays a few inches behind, trench coat fanned around him like a cape.

           Snap

           Snap

           Snap!

           Dean passes the ‘teeth’, stepping into the cave. There are a few tentative steps of darkness, but not for long. He pulls a flashlight from his pocket and flicks it on, letting them catch glimpse of the monster’s home.

           He wishes he didn’t.

           Where the blood around the cave was painted in chaos, its only purpose to serve as warning for anyone who came across it that they’ve found their doom. Inside, each stroke was made with intent. There are symbols and sigils streaked within, the dark red of dried blood shining whenever a beam of light catches it.

           Dean moves forward and away from Cas, pocketing his weapon to trace at one of the symbols.

           “You said there weren’t any angels involved, Cas,” Dean whispers, “Then how come there’re all these?”

           “I… I do not know,” Cas admits, voice warbling “It’s… These are… I…” Dean turns to him, watches as his eyes ping pong across the cave walls, taking it all in. “These symbols… I recognize a few… but not… haven’t seen –“

           “Cas?”

           “Don’t you feel them, Dean?” Cas turns to him, eyes glassy and distant, “Like black tendrils, gripping at you, trying to tear you apart? So many voices… like before but not… I don’t… I can’t…” He trails off, looking to his right, towards something Dean can’t see.

           “Cas…?” Dean reaches out, eyebrows drawn close together in worry, “Talk to me. Tell me you’re – oof!”

           Cas spins on his heel, knocking Dean back as he scurries deeper into the cave. “Cas!” Dean shouts, “Cas!” He chases after him, uncaring of who hears or not. It doesn’t matter to him what’s waiting inside knowing that Cas is vulnerable.

           He follows the heavy pounding of Cas’s footsteps, turning and twisting down the surprising length of the cave’s tunnel systems. Throughout it all he could barely see six inches in front of him. But the light at the end has him picking up his pace, uncaring to the way his lungs were burning.

           He slides into an opening, sagging against his knees in exhaustion, trying to catch his breath. When he feels he has a hold on it, he looks up – and loses it once more.

           The flashlight is pointless, as the room is engulfed in the bright light of the tear in the fabric of the universe. It glows and pulsates with that strange energy, larger than any rip Dean has seen before.

           And standing right in front of it is Cas, his back to Dean. He’s gazing up at it with hands in his pockets, his posture more loose and relaxed than before, frighteningly so.

           Dean is on high alert, taking careful steps towards his angel. “Cas?” he says, “Buddy, is that… we should probably step away. Wait until Jack –“ He loses his voice, unable to speak past the sheer terror and wrongness he feels when Cas turns around.

           It’s not him. It’s not his Cas. This Cas’s collar is flecked with blood, his hair is mussed and his eyes dark, and everywhere across his skin are black tendrils, goo flowing where blood should be. He’s grinning at him with sharpened teeth, predatorily, ready to snap.

           “Lev…” Dean croaks out, “Leviathan.”

           “Hello, Dean,” he says, then glances at something slightly to the left, “And hello, Dean.”

           “What –“

           Darkness. He slumps to the ground.

           “ – try and wake ‘em up… I’m bored!”

           “Patience, love, why must I keep reminding you of this?”

           “Because I’m a naughty piece of shit who loves your ‘reminders’.”

           Dean wakes with a silent groan, trying and failing to stretch his aching limbs. His arms are pulled tight behind him, around a jagged rock that pokes deeper the more he wriggles. His legs were left free, fanned out beneath him in an open ‘V’. There’s a weight pressed up against him, and he blinks to adjust to the tear’s light to see Cas, still knocked out. Dean shakes his shoulder, trying to jerk him awake. There’s a slight twitch behind Cas’s eyes, and Dean keeps going. “Cas,” he whispers, “Cas, come on. Cas –!”

           Rough, calloused hands grab his chin and pull his gaze forward, locking eyes with a recognizable pair of green eyes.

           “Well look here, baby,” the other Dean says, face dirty with sweat and blood, his grin feral, “I guess we can start playin’ after all.”

           Dean shudders involuntarily, backing himself further into the rock behind him. “What?” he asks, “Who are… what?”

           The other Dean lets go, leaning back in a fit of laughter, his arm clutching at his stomach. “Oh man, did I hit you too hard?” he wheezes, wiping an errant tear from his eye, “Don’t you recognize me… or, well – should I say you?”

           “Now don’t patronize him love,” Leviathan Cas growls as he stalks forward, wrapping his arm around Dean’s stomach, tangling their fingers together. Pressing up against other Dean’s back, he hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulder and scrapes his stubble against his. “This must be confusing,” he continues, “It’s not everyday you run into other versions of yourself.”

           Dean wants to make a comment: about how this isn’t the first doppelganger he’s come across, that even if it was he’s a big boy, or maybe even about the tender press of his twin’s lips against the bundle of creatures’ flesh suit. He wants to, but all his confidence and bravado shrivels when his Cas finally stirs awake.

           “…Dean?”

           “The gangs all here!” Dean crows, stepping out of the Leviathan’s hold, “Now we can really get this party started.”

           Cas’s eyes widen at the sight, turning to Dean. He doesn’t know what he can tell the angel, his mind still coming to terms with what he’s seeing.

           “Now come on, keep your eyes on me,” other Dean whines, “I take it personally if I feel ignored.”

           “So, what?” Dean finally finds his voice, “In your universe you’re a big baby? Not impressed, honestly.” Other Dean smirks at him.

           “You shouldn’t be impressed,” he says, eyes flicking black, “You should be scared.”

           And he is. The cloying, sick feeling has returned, choking him with the sheer sense of wrong. There’re no bodies littered about the cave floor, but Demon him reeks of rotted flesh and organs, his clothes as dirty as his face. A sneaking suspicion has him trekking his eyes away from his face and down his right arm, where the veins are red and bulging around scar tissue, and he’s swinging a jawbone blade in hand.

           “This doesn’t make any sense,” Cas says, “You weren’t… at no point should either of you have existed at the same time.”

           “Call it fate… destiny – I don’t care,” Demon Dean shrugs, “Where we come from, we played our cards exactly how we should have.”

           “And it was all happily ever after wasn’t it?” Dean chokes out, “All sunshine and rainbows?”

           “Those don’t exist where we come from,” Leviathan Cas tilts his head, cutting at Dean’s heart, “Not anymore. Our universe is… pure. No mess, no fuss, just survival – people stripped to their most base instincts and desires.”

           “So Purgatory,” Dean says, “you turned your universe into Purgatory?”

           “You’d be surprised how great it is when there’s nothing holding you back, Dean,” Demon him adds, rubbing his hand up and down Leviathan Cas’s cheek, “You get to do all the fun things Daddy tried to beat out of you.” Dean flinches, the words striking below the belt, just as they intended.

           “But the Leviathan,” Cas struggles to understand, “my vess… my body could not handle the strain it… it nearly killed me.”

           “Only because you let it,” Cas’s doppelganger points out, “The Leviathan are repelled by willpower. The stronger you’re beliefs, the harder it is for them to take control. I wasn’t swayed from my convictions… I managed to tame and absorb these creatures. They work for me – are a part of me. I reveled in their power. I stared into the abyss and didn’t blink.” Cas is forced into a stunned silence, eyes trained on his shoes, unable to meet the other Cas’s smug look.

           “And you?” Dean asks the other him, “Obviously why I got the Mark here won’t match with how you got the Mark there so…?”

           “With Cas all souped up on Leviathan juice, we needed something that could take him down,” Demon him shrugs, picking at his nails with the First Blade, “Crowley wasn’t feeling too good about being cut out on all that power, so he decided to ‘help’. Sam and I decided, what the hell, not like we have any aces up our sleeves. This one,” he jerks his thumb back at the Leviathan, the other Cas smirking softly, “wouldn’t listen to ‘reason’. So with Sam setting up base in Crowley’s, we went on a little trip to a bee farm.”

           “Cain wouldn’t budge, no matter how Crowley spun the situation,” he said, “So I challenged him to it. Winner keeps the Mark… loser gets – I think you can guess. It was exactly what we needed on our side. Who needs an army when you have a super-powered demon on your side am I right?”

           “It doesn’t look like you were fighting for long though,” Dean says, “How did you… you and he…”

           “Hook up?” Demon Dean chuckles, winking exaggeratedly at him, “After a while, I was starting to get pissed with Sammy. He was going on and on about the ‘dangerous effects of the Mark’ and ‘you’re losing your humanity, Dean’ blah blah blah blah blah. I was getting sick of it. So… during one battle, Cas managed to catch me alone. Put a deal on the table for me – offered me something I’ve been craving for a long time now.” He twines his free hand with the other Cas’s, grinning, “I’m sure you can guess what that was.”

           “I take it your Sam wasn’t happy with the team up?”

           “If he was, he didn’t put up a fight,” Demon him tosses out, “but when you’re stabbed through the back you don’t have much time to do those types of things.” Dean’s breath hitches at the cold way the Demon version of himself talked about his brother. Like he was just another of a long list of bodies he let hit the floor.

           “After that, there wasn’t really anything standing in our way of taking control,” Demon Dean carries on, “What with Cas sitting pretty on his perch up in Heaven as the new God and me overthrowing Crowley… we had everything we ever wanted.”

           “So why leave?” Cas demands, glaring at Dean’s evil copy, “Why step through the portal.”

           “Honestly we didn’t know we’d end up here when we touched it,” Demon him says, “Things like this don’t pop up everyday, especially in our bedroom.” Dean can see Cas flinch out of the corner of his eye, “And I don’t take kindly to things interrupting our special alone time, just when I was about to –“

           “Anyway,” Leviathan Cas speaks over him, “After… cleaning up, we investigated and landed here –“

           “Got a good look around, took some pictures, held up the Hollywood sign,” Dean rattles off, snarling, “So end your vacation and get out of here.”

           “I don’t think so,” Leviathan Cas says, walking towards him. He holds Dean’s cheek, grazing his thumb under his eye. Dean can feel his Cas’s glare even if he can’t see it. “Do you know how boring it is to have everything you want? When all challenges you’ve faced have been conquered?”

           “Sounds like paradise.”

           “Well it wasn’t,” Demon him says from behind the Leviathan Cas, arms folded across his chest in a huff, “We were just going through the motions for the longest of times. Every morning we’d walk throughout our world reminding our subjects who to fear; there’d be the occasional reminder being dragged forward once or twice to feel the smooth slide of my blade. Then we’d carry on to the afternoon where we would attend the daily gladiatorial battles, watching as humans, angels, demons, and monsters fought for their glory. And later in the evening they’d receive it – a five-minute head start before I hunted them down and skinned them for our collection. It was getting too… easy.”

           “So your little stay in our universe is just so you two can get your groove back?” Dean splutters, “Are you guys for real?”

           “They do say nothing spices up a relationship like returning to your roots,” Demon him says, “I think conquering your world will put us back on track to where we were before.”

           “Dean is right,” Leviathan Cas stands, turning to embrace his lover with a fire burning behind his eyes, “Our first night here was… glorious. We had stumbled upon a vagrant during our scouting, and I watched as Dean had pounced on him, slowly torturing the life from him. He flayed strips of skin from his body… pounded bone into dust… used his intestines to keep him from wriggling away as Dean pulled nail after nail, slicing one finger after the other. It was titillating. Making something spark inside me that hasn’t been lit in years. Soon hours had passed, Dean working his magic. I couldn’t control myself any longer and joined in the chaos. As I was reaching climax, I watched from behind Dean as the man’s eyes glazed over with death, his last sensation that of Dean spurting over his wounds as I came in Dean.” He pulls a string of teeth from his coat pocket, holding them up in the tear’s glow, “He made me a keepsake so we could remember the fun we had.”

           “Not like we could keep the skin,” Demon him had shrugged, “I fried that up for breakfast after we cuddled over the bloody corpse.” He winks at Dean, “Goes great with scrambled kidneys and hash brains.”

           Cas chokes beside him, dry heaving the bile that sits in his stomach, trying to keep it down. Dean can’t even begin to pick apart the story he heard. Each part a cacophony of terror and disgust that are fighting for dominance over which part this reflection of him, this thing that used to be him in another world, did that was the worst. The answer though was simple – Demon Dean himself was the worst part. Because he had done it, had found nothing wrong with doing it, and would do it again.

           “And the others?” Dean forced himself to ask, to focus on anything but the manic glee and arousal on full display, “They played a part in your weird sex games?”

           “A man’s gotta eat, Dean,” Demon Dean snarks, tapping at his stomach, “And chasing people through the woods really works up the appetite.”

           “And you?” Cas asks his copy, regaining control of himself, “Did you… hunt?”

           “It’d be no fun if I participated,” Leviathan Cas shrugs, “They’d be nothing but bones with the snap of my fingers. Besides… my interests are voyeuristic in nature.”

           “A regular ol’ Peeping Tom,” Demon Dean jokes, “But you gotta love him – flaws and all.”

           “From what I’m seein’ you two are nothin’ but flaws – hrrgn.”

           Demon him has pressed the First Blade right against his neck, and the teeth are tugging against his skin. Green eyes have blinked back to black, and Demon Dean’s leaning in close. “Wanna say that again, pretty boy?” he threatens, “I’m not a fan of people who make fun of what’s mine.”

           Dean tries another comment, but the pressure chokes and strangles any word that tries to escape.

           “Down, love,” Leviathan Cas places a hand on his Dean’s shoulder – the shoulder, “Don’t take it out on them. They’re just misguided and… well, weak.”

           Cas speaks for the both of them as Dean splutters for breath, “…Excuse me?”

           “From what we can tell, it seems you two have had ultimate power at the tips of your fingers,” Leviathan Cas explains, “And wasted it. Letting it go because of some misplaced sense of morality. Always doing what you expect is right,” his gaze flitters between the two, “Not because of what you want.”

           “Put it simply you two are nothin’ but wet blankets,” Demon Dean mocks, “Probably spend your days twiddlin’ your thumbs and holding back. Because if you’re happy than somethin’ must be wrong, am I right? I mean, Heaven forbid you feel good about yourselves.” He points between him and his lover, “We feel good. This is good.”

           “What you two share is nothing more than an addiction,” Cas hits back, his words biting into Dean’s heart, “You push each other deeper and darker into depravity, feeding off your worst impulses. No wonder there’s nothing left in your world – you two are toxic.”

           “But isn’t that just love, angel?” Demon Dean asks, gripping Cas’s hair and pulling him close, “I can take the poison as long as it comes from your sweet, sweet lips.” He springs forward, shoving his tongue down Cas’s mouth, battling him into submission. Cas’s legs kick out underneath, eyes open and glaring with such power Dean cowers at the sight.

           Demon him lets go, wiping at his spit-slick lips. “Feisty,” he says, “But not as good as the original.”

           “He is the original, you sick monster –“

           “Now Dean,” Leviathan Cas cuts him off, “Is that any way to talk about yourself?”

           “He’s probably jealous,” Demon him purrs, leaning against the other Cas’s shoulder, “Thinks I’ve probably tainted his widdle angel –“

           “Shut up!”

           “Why don’t you make me?” the other him says, plopping onto Dean’s lap with a giddy laugh. He grinds against Dean’s groin, and Dean wants to vomit feeling how hard the demon is. “It’d be fun,” Demon him taunts, “Didn’t you ever wonder? Oh I know… you have. No one knows your body like yourself, and I can show you a few places you might not have even thought about.” He leans in to whisper at Dean’s ear, “Normally I’d be on the other end, but I’m feeling charitable.” Then he slides his tongue across Dean’s cheek and dives into his mouth.

           Dean can’t move. Demon Dean takes his pliant body underhand and keeps moving up against him, rutting and touching. Blood flecks fly off him and onto Dean, staining his clothes, imprinting him with the stench of his copy. It’s dirty, disgusting, and immoral… but the worst feeling – the one that is niggling at the base of his brain – is that it feels right.

           Through the press of their mouths Dean can feel the Mark singing to him, filling all the cracks in his soul with the promise of being complete. He thought he would never have to hear Amara’s voice again, but that universe’s Darkness is still trapped in the Mark, and knows exactly which buttons to press to mess with Dean’s head. Make him crave the release he thought he didn’t need. He’s flexing his hands against his binds, searching for something he can’t name.

           “Like that?” Demon Dean asks, nibbling at his lips, trailing kisses down his neck. Dean can’t focus, his mind dizzy in a haze. “You know,” the other him continues, “if you want… I can share it with you. I can see it in your eyes… you miss it. Miss this feeling. Like strings being cut – getting the power to do what you want when you want it. It’s intoxicating… such a rush –“

           “Dean, no!” His Cas says, cutting through the fog the Mark emits, “Fight it! You’ve been able to resist it before, you can do it again!”

           “You say that now,” Leviathan Cas snickers, leaning towards Cas, “But are either of you really strong enough?” He clutches at Cas’s trench coat, dragging him forward, “He’s not the only one who can have a second chance, you know? I can teach you how to tame them, give you the ultimate power. Make you useful again.” The Other Cas’s hand starts glowing with a dark energy, and the power leaks out.

           Cas’s eyes go wide, and he tries to lean away. He’s muttering in Enochian, pressing himself against Dean.

           Demon Dean has his own hand held up, the Mark glowing an even brighter red than before. “What do you say, Dean?” he asks, “Want to be the best you that you can be?”

           They’re inching closer and closer, ready to mold them into the same warped versions from their world. Dean doesn’t see a way out, so he focuses all he can on the warm weight of Cas next to him – hopefully they can resist long enough they would die before they turned.

           He doesn’t want this. Doesn’t want this Cas.

           He never wanted them to happen like this.

           Demon Dean’s hand is hovering over his wrist, the intense heat he gives off scalding. His fingers are about to touch his skin and –

           Boom!

           They didn’t have the radio on the entire drive back. Sam tried to find something, but a rough ‘Turn it off, Sammy’ from him kept all hands and minds away from music. Dean didn’t look away from the window the entire time, his hand cradling his right arm.

           He got out of there unscathed, as did Cas.

           Jack and Sam had found them with little time to spare. The nephilim had reacted without thought, extending his powers to push the doppelgangers off of them and towards the cave walls. Sam rushed to check on Dean and Cas, but faltered when he noticed just whom they were facing.

           “Shifters?” Sam had asked. Dean shook his head and pointed weakly to the rift.

           It was two versus two; Dean and Cas too weak from shock to even stand properly. Demon him had taunted Sam, talking about his own brother and how they had handled his corpse: propped above their marital bed, eyes sewn open. Leviathan Cas tried to strike after that – but Jack was more powerful.

           He didn’t kill them – he couldn’t kill them. Their deaths would release only another can of worms they couldn’t face again.

           But Jack could weaken them. He started with one – pulling a small tendril of goo from under the other Cas’s skin and grinding it into nothing. Then another, repeating the process the longer they stayed in the wrong universe.

           It hurt to see the tender way Demon him had cradled his Cas, carrying him over towards the rift. Demon Dean had looked back, speaking directly to him. “We’ll find a way back,” he promised, “If we’re two things, it’s immortal and stubborn. Nothing can stop us.”

           He vanished, as well as the rift moments later.

           Jack caused a cave-in just to be sure.

           When they get back to the Bunker at daybreak, having driven all throughout the night, Dean doesn’t wait for Sam to take the keys out before he’s running off to his room, head ducked down in shame.

           “Dean, your arm!”

           He looks up towards Cas, the angel watching him from the open door. ‘Didn’t I lock it?’ He wasn’t sure how much Cas had seen, or how long he’d been there, and all he can do is make a soft, low pitying sound from deep in his chest.

           Cas gives him a fond look, and steps in. He reaches out to Dean, “Please, allow me –“

           “No!” Dean flinches, hating himself even more as Cas’s face drops into something sadder. “N-no…” he says again, quieter, “I… I need it.”

           Cas sits at the edge of Dean’s bed, giving him distance. “What do you need it for?”

           “It helps,” Dean says, breathing harshly through his nose, “Keeps m’focused. Grounded. From thinking about… wanting…”

           “They’re gone, Dean,” Cas says, “There’s no chance of them coming back.”

           “How do you know?” he hisses, “How can you be sure?”

           “I…” Cas looks away, clenching and unclenching his fingers in thought. Dean thinks he sees dark swirls spinning out from them, but blinks away the illusion.

           “I can’t,” he finally says, turning to Dean, “But I won’t let their threats hang over me. And neither should you.”

           Dean wants to believe, having spent the entire ride back arguing with himself about what’s next. The bloodstains on his sheets clearly show who won there. When Chuck and Amara disappeared, he thought they had taken any lingering influences the Mark might have had on him.

           He was a fool to hope. The curse still held power over him, whether it was from his universe or any else’s. There could be thousands of places where he still has the Mark, and any one of them could break through next and offer Dean the same thing the other version of him had promised.

           And he doesn’t think he’d be able to fight it.

           “I’m just like they said,” Dean says aloud, “Weak…”

           “What?”

           “I’m weak,” Dean repeats, eyes brimming with unshed tears, “I was gonna say yes – again. I forgot how… forgot how good it felt with it – the power. I knew what would happen, knew who was waiting behind the scar, but I still… I still felt I was gonna say yes. Even if it would turn me into him,” A tear slips past, “I’m weak.” His chest is wracked with a loud sob, and he moves to bury his chin in his chest. He hiccups, trying to reign himself in – but once the floodgates were breached there was no stopping him.

           “Dean,” Cas says, grabbing for his hand, “Dean look at me.” He shakes his head, but Cas just puts a finger under his chin and pulls him forward. He’s looking right into Dean’s eyes, shining with a fierce conviction that makes him shudder. “You are one of the strongest people I know. You would have fought the Mark – would have been nothing like him.”

           “You don’t –“

           “Today was nothing more then a bad day,” Cas assures him, “You didn’t expect to face them, didn’t think that you’d ever be offered the Mark again. I could feel your determination to resist near the end, using it to strengthen my own fortitude. You weren’t going to say yes… you were going to fight, even if it was for naught.” He uses his other hand to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, giving him something to focus on other than the pain. Dean’s sobs start to weaken, breaths coming out nicer and more even.

           “They weren’t right,” Cas whispers, “They aren’t strong… we are. We knew that all that power was wrong, and we fought against it. I tried to send the Leviathan back, worked with you even when all I wanted to do was stay in the safety of my insanity. And whereas I took that power to further some selfish, ill-conceived plot, you only bore the mantle of Cain to save the world. You struggled to keep your humanity, and saved the world not through violence but through love. Your ability to care has stopped countless battles, saved millions of people. You’re stronger than that other Dean. You’re… you’re stronger than me.”

           Dean shakes his head. “N-nuh-uh Cas,” he says, “You’re the strong one. I don’t… I don’t know how many times you’ve been knocked on your ass, but you just keep going. You power through all the drama and fight to protect us even though there’s no reason for you to. You could have checked out at any time – after Lucifer was caged, after Purgatory, Metatron, Amara, every day you can just walk away and live your life but you don’t. You stay and you work to help people because you care. Even now, you faced the same crap I did and you’re here comforting me! If I had gone through even half the stuff you’ve been through… I don’t know if I’d be able to…”

           Cas smiles, sliding his hand down from Dean’s hair to his cheek reverently. “To me all of that is but a blink in my existence, Dean. You’ve faced a lifetime of hardships, yet are still as bright and pure as the day you were born. That takes strength.”

           The finality in Cas’s voice erodes any other argument Dean might have. He just lets Cas pad his thumb over his cheek, wiping away any traces of their cracked reflections.

           “Some days,” Dean says, finding his voice, “It hurts holding back. To not go for what I want. It… it sucks not giving in. Things I want that I… I don’t think I can have.”

           Cas tilts his head, “What makes you think you can’t have them?”

           “S’like what they said,” Dean admits, “If I have them… then I’m happy. I don’t get to be happy.”

           Cas smiles at him, sadly. “You, more than anyone, deserve happiness, Dean.”

           “And you?”

           He freezes, startled by the question. “Um,” he blushes, looking away, “What about me?”

           “Don’t you deserve happiness?”

           “I am,” Cas tries, forcing the words out, “I am content as I am now.” He doesn’t dare meet Dean’s eyes, pulling his hands away towards his lap, leaving Dean with cold skin and an empty heart.

           “Well I’m not,” Dean whispers. Cas whips towards him, eyes wide. Dean presses further, “I want more. This… this… whatever we are isn’t enough for me. I don’t want a day to pass where you don’t know you’re special and kind and needed but I can’t… I can’t get the words out right, no matter how I try. But if you’re happy where you are then I… I should learn to be, too. Because my happiness kinda hinges on your-mmph!”

           Cas surged forward, capturing Dean’s lips with his. He squeezes Dean’s cheeks, scratching blunt crescent-shapes into his skin. Dean has barely any time to react, for as soon as Cas was on him, he’s pulling away, focused on a spot beside Dean’s head.

           “I’m… sorry, if that was a bit forward,” Cas says, voice raw with thick emotion, “But I… there were no words I could think of that could… could communicate the sheer joy I felt when you said those words.”

           A huge grin breaks out on Dean’s face. Now he’s reaching out, taking Cas’s chin in his hand. “I don’t mind,” he says, “I’ll never mind. We’ve wasted too much time not doing that.”

           “I agree,” Cas says. He looks down at Dean’s arm, gingerly prodding the area around his wound. “Do you mind if I…?”

           “Yeah,” he says, “But could you… do you mind if you…?”

           “Yes?”

           “Stay, after,” Dean looks away, feeling as his cheeks start to flush. “I feel better, but there’s still… I still –“

           “You don’t have to explain, Dean,” Cas tells him, “I’ll stay.” Dean’s grin softens around the edges, and he presses a dry kiss to Cas’s cheek as he mends the skin on Dean’s arm.

           They don’t take anything off – Dean already knowing he’ll have to wash his sheets in the morning, the dirt from their captivity already staining the clean linen. Cas presses himself on the pillows, and Dean to Cas. He’s twined his arms around Cas’s waist, and looks up through his lashes.

           “You think you could…”

           “I won’t let go,” Cas promises, his embrace tight and warm and right.

           Dean wiggles closer, pressing his face into Cas’s chest, trying to burrow in. Their legs are tangled, and the trench coat is surprisingly soft where it rubs against Dean’s skin. It’s childish and silly, he knows, to try and use Cas as a security blanket. But after today, nothing sounds better then curling up with his angel as Cas’s warm body chases away all the nasty thoughts just waiting for Dean to let his guard down.

           “We’ll never be like them, right?” Dean has to ask, waiting for the answer that’ll either pull him back from the precipice of sleep or push him deeper into unconsciousness.

           Cas gives it to him. “Never.”

           Coming from Cas’s lips, Dean almost believes it. But their lives are lived one day at a time – never knowing what will happen next. Dean might go on his last hunt, Cas could use up his final life, or even their universe could suffer from one last tear, collapsing in on itself. Their past and the actions that led them to where they are never truly fade away. They’re etched under the skin, leaving their marks and surging to life every now and then.

           But being in Cas’s arms, Dean feels that facing those ghosts won’t be as hard next time.

[thegrimllama]

she just stopped...

Lena likes the idea of having another baby. Between her and Kara and the amazing support network that they have, it would be an easy decision to make.

Kara is stoked when Lena brings it up.  They're curled up in bed, staring out across the city lights, basking in the early morning calm. “Do you think will have time, Eden has had a rough few weeks with the cold weather…?”  “I'll talk to her in the morning and maybe see if she can make some time.”

Alexwas almost giddy with excitement when Kara asked her to assist them.  She was going to have another niece!  Ella and Atlas were going to be big sisters again.  She calls Lena into the lab to administer the FSH, and perform an ultrasound just to make sure that she was physically capable of carrying another baby.  Of course Maggie made Kara relay everything via phone since she and Eden were in isolation at the children's ward again.

The implantation goes well and a month late Lena is feeling sick.  Really sick.

So she takes a pregnancy test at the office, it barely takes fifteen seconds for a positive reading.  Lena hasn't felt this much excitement in a long time, how was she going to tell Kara?  Her wife was going to be over the moon…. And the girls? Ella and Atlas would be stoked.  She doesn't even wait to call Maggie, sobbing, “It worked!” into the phone.  Maggie leaves work early, and heads straight to Lena's office and they spend the afternoon discussing different ways to tell Kara about the new baby.  They scroll through pinterest looking at cute announcement ideas, settling on ordering a cute shirt for Ella and Atlas, one that reads, I’m gonna be a big sister again! And another that says, I'm finally a big sister!  

Of course, Ella thinks the idea is completely uncool because she is fourteen now, “Can't you just tell her Momma?”

Ella, at first, wasn't keen on the idea of another sibling, she already had Atlas, and she was annoying enough as an eleven year old.  But a new sister…? Babies cry and they poop and they smell.  Heck, Lena wasn't even going to tell Ella until the day the shirts arrived, but Ella and her damn kryptonian hearing noticed the heartbeat the second the baby developed one.  The first time Ella puts her ear to her moms stomach, she's a goner.  She knows she's going to protect that little girl with every power she has, just like she does for Atlas.

Two weeks pass and Scorps and Lena are having fun with their little secret, making sly jokes that Kara just keeps missing.  

Atlas is at James and Lucy’s, helping Jamaal with their science fair project, so Lena was loving being able to sneak little quips about number three while Atlas and her overly clever brain was in earshot.

Kara loves seeing Lena and Ella interact.  Especially when they're cooking.  Kara can't cook to save herself, she tries, but she just sucks... Tonight, her wife and eldest daughter were in a silly mood, tossing stir fry veggies and noodles across the kitchen as they went.

She heard Lena's heart race a little, as though she'd hurt herself, "You okay Momma?"  Clearly Scorps had heard it too...

Kara couldn't pinpoint the look on Ella's face at the moment.  Equal parts scared and sad as she reached for Lena's arm.  "Kara, call Alex."

Kara nodded and grabs her phone, hitting Alex's speed dial.  Ella was crying.  Why was she crying?

Lena's face was still impassive, not giving away any clues until she heard Alex sob into the phone, and shouting to Maggie that she needed to leave.

"Tell her not to rush, Kara."  

It was no more than a whisper, but it was enough for Kara to relay the message to Alex.  She put the phone down, and made her way over to Lena who now had her arms around Ella.

"Are you sure, Scorps?"  Kara watched Ella nod as Lena whispered into her hair, "Okay... Honey, I need you to listen to me...  I will be fine."

"But Momma... the..." Ella's sentence was broken by tears and cut short by a sob from Lena, who tugged Kara into them.

Lena looked up at her wife, tears streaming down her cheeks, leaving poor confused Kara, still completely in the dark about the entire situation.  "Kara, we were pregnant again."

Realisation hit Kara like a wall of Kryptonite.  Were.

"Are you sure?"

Ella nodded again, her voice rough and low, "I was listening to her.  I always listened and… She just stopped.”

Kara didn't know what to feel.  Numb, was the only word fitting.  But she had a crying wife, and a daughter that had just heard her sisters last heartbeat.

She needed to be Supergirl tonight.  At least until they were both asleep.