#Do not make him be part of the team. During a crisis he might grab his sword and pitch in but I don't think it should be expected of him. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ak8shi · 4 years

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FWB HQ Boys: In which you beat the player at his own game!

warnings: Time skip spoilers, mentions of sex(all characters are 18+), alcohol, stupid people in love

a/n: ahh I’m sorry I’ve been a little MIA!!! But I’m back with this pls enjoy ! I think the fandom really make germaphobia his only personality trait sometimes which makes me sad because I think he’s actually a quirky/classy dude and very functional in social situations,, I hate to say it but ya’ll would get played by him… sorry.

━Sakusa Kiyoomi

Some of you may be like ???? Omi fucks around ?? how ?? BUT he definitely does in his own way

He probably doesn’t do much in high school to be honest, he’s mostly focused on improving as a volleyball player and achieving his goals

Once he reaches pro level though,,, it’s a different story lmfao

I can see him being picky as hell about his hookups, but just because he’s a bit of a germaphobe doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel attraction or doesn’t have needs…

….He’s so hot too… girl

His hook-ups are always taken seriously though… like he’s the type that feels like he has a professional image to upkeep, so he always arranges things beforehand; he’s definitely not messy about it and sets clear boundaries

I think what makes him kind of a player is how standoffish he can be…and he doesn’t really give anyone a chance because he doesn’t think they what it takes to deal with his lifestyle lmao

He’s just like, its easier to call the uber right after, get into the shower, and wait until he can hear the front door of his apartment shut I’m screamingg

Sakusa also isn’t one to kiss and tell, even with the boys… he doesn’t think its tasteful and would rather not have Atsumu up his ass about his flings

ANYWAYS,, let’s get into this, so you know Atsumu through mutual friends and met during college, and the two of you just instantly clicked since you also were a part of the same sports medicine program as him

Atsumu signed with MSBY and you were so happy for him, but you were bummed because you were busy with PT graduate school and couldn’t really attend any of his games

A year passed and you found yourself texting Tsumu to see if he could meet up and grab coffee since you were on winter break!!

You: hey I’m back in town wanna grab coffee sometime?

Him: who is this

You: I see you haven’t changed ❤️

LMFAO, so you catch up with Atsumu and he talks about his new career and his teammates, he seems so happy :(( we love to see that!!

He invites you to MSBY’s game the following weekend, and you’re pumped to go!! Tsumu got you great seats, and he meets you before warmups to make sure you’re okay finding your way around

Atsumu: don’t take yer eyes off me <3

You:

He’s so…

You’re enjoying the match and you even go to grab Onigiri from Osamu’s stand, but you can’t seem to look away from number 15 on Atsumu’s team

He’s .., scrumptious to say the least 🥴

Like he’s so composed and calculated on the court, and you find it so funny how he rolls his eyes whenever Tsumu says something to him and how Tsumu gets so heated about it 💀

The match ends and you go down to meet Atsumu near the lockers, showing the security your family/friend pass 😌

You walk through the halls trying to locate the setter, but you can’t seem to figure out where he is

The only person in the hall is the tall, dark haired man that caught your eye earlier; he is already walking towards the exit with a mask covering his face, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, sweats embroidered with “Sakusa” adorning his body we’re all looking..... respectfully

He’s truly so intimidating but you’re like….highkey lost… so you don’t really have another option

You catch up with him, poking his shoulder gently; he turns around and his attention on you is almost STARTLING.. like his eyes are SO dark

Him: can I help you

You: sir… if you don’t rail me, I’m gonna have to intervene‼️😈😹

After getting over your initial shock, you hear multiple footsteps rumbling down the hallway towards the both of you

Sakusa lets out an annoyed sigh, muttering about how he has to go, but before he can escape you hear Atsumu’s loud voice LMFAO

“OMIIII, where are you goin’? Its team karaoke night remember?”

Tsumu sees you and slings an arm around your shoulders, “Oh-? So I see you’ve met our outside hitter Omi?”

You glance over at Sakusa, his expressionless eyes glued to your face, then slowly trailing down to analyze the way Atsumu casually has you tucked under his arm

Atsumu nudges him, and he grumbles that he’ll meet them after changing at home before walking off in the direction of the private parking garage

You meet the rest of the MSBY boys in the uber, and find them super friendly and welcoming; Bokuto and Hinata buy the first round of drinks at the karaoke bar, but you only have one because you have work to finish the next day WE STAN

Atsumu already has a pink glow setting into his cheeks when you see the boys turn their attention to Sakusa walking through the front door, looking as handsome as ever in his dress pants and fitted white t shirt

They all shout out incoherent hello’s, and he takes the only open seat next to you with a glass of gin and tonic in his hand he smells so good god

You’re unsure what comes over you, but you find yourself turning towards him, and you just start asking him about himself and his career, and surprisingly he’s very polite and much more animated than you previously thought

His voice is like…so alluring and he never looks away from you when you talk, its like he’s absorbing every word

Meanwhile, Atsumu is stumbling over the stage with Bokuto belting Love by Keisha Cole LMFAOO😭

Tsumu kind of ‘warned’ you in the car ride over that Sakusa was a germaphobe, but you know that Atsumu tends to invade people’s personal space sometimes and it probably wasn’t as dramatic as he made it out to be

However, you weren’t expecting the outside hitter to lean over from his seat after checking the time on his phone, whispering in your ear, asking you if you wanted to meet him at his place later than night WHEW

Girl I would be sweating… and you say yes ofc because who’s going to pass up this type of opportunity-

He gives you a charming smile and is like,, okay cool, I’ll see you later then 😊 I’m dead

Ya’ll exchange phone numbers and he’s like if you need any help with my idiot teammates let me know before he takes off

You don’t tell Tsumu about your little… entanglement plans dsnjaknda but honestly he wouldn’t even remember based on the way he’s slumped against you in the uber he owes you big time

You get home after dropping off Tsumu at Osamu’s, and operation dick appointment with the professional volleyball player is put into action 😈

He sends an uber over to get you ladies do not settle for less please, and you’re BIG nervous but in a good way as in you know this dick is about to be bomb af

SO you’re standing in front of his apartment door, and when he opens it, he’s still in the clothes he wore to the bar and its like 1 am he’s so powerful

Um I feel like he would get straight to it honestly, probably starts with a little convo on the couch and then…

YOU WEREN’T AWARE HE WAS SO DIRTY,,, it was SO good too like after getting home that night you’re going through a crisis… like you had so much chemistry together for having just met, and you wonder if he feels the same way🥺

You caught yourself in sleepless states some nights, kept awake by the thoughts of the way his hands felt against your skin, the way his five o’clock shadow gently rubbed against your face when you kissed, and how he would hold you(only after a thorough shower together of course)

As it happens more and more, he lets you into his life little by little, and you notice and remember small facts about him and he often remembers a lot of the things you tell him about you, its really enjoyable for both of you

Its weirdly domestic to a point but that’s why its so good for both of you???it adds a bit of spice ??

Sakusa: can you come over tonight

You: sorry the retainer is in already <3 no dick sucking for me tonight <3

Him: I bought pastries from that cafe you like

You: say less✈️ I’m coming💃

AND he HAS jokes okay, like he’s funny as hell and very witty when his true self comes out; but he’s also a HUGE tease and he’ll say something completely straight-faced that someone else might take offense to like “you look ugly,” but you just know he’s kidding from being around him long enough and from seeing the little glint in his dark eyes

It becomes a routine thing while you’re home honestly, and you try your best to hide it from Atsumu because you just KNOW you would never hear the end of it; for all he knows, you met him that one time at the bar and that was that

Everything is going smoothly until you slip up at one of their games

You were sitting in the waiting area with the team (mostly talking to Atsumu), when he just says something that makes your short circuit

Atsumu: what kind of animal do ya think omi would be? An octopus maybe?

You: yeah I mean with those flexible wrists it makes sense

Atsumu: what the fawk🤠

He’s like… how do you even know about his flexible wrists IT TOOK ME 6 MONTHS TO GET TO THAT STAGE WITH HIM-

Oops, lmfao so you kind of tell him about everything and he’s literally shocked for you, mostly because he doesn’t want you to get hurt :(

Atsumu: So I see he’s just sleeping with ANYONE anyone

LMAO noo he definitely thinks you’re too good for him and he kind of lectures you, telling you that he had a hunch that he messes around with girls like that, but also you’re an adult and you can take care of yourself, and it isn’t like it’s a serious thing!!

Meanwhile, Omi is like going through a bit of a crisis all alone because everything around him reminds him of you or something you said when you were together

He got with people who were compatible sexually often, but he never had the urge to have them stay over after the deed; he usually immediately called them an uber and wouldn’t speak to them again

He found himself thinking about seeing you in the stands at his games, wishing you were there to cheer for him only, and he adored the way you respected his boundaries unlike many of his hookups

Atsumu probably notices something is off with him at practice

Atsumu: hey…if ya ever want to talk about somethin’-

Sakusa: no

Girl… he doesn’t disclose any of this to anyone

Its nearing the end of your break, and you head over to sakusa’s for probably the last time before you go back to school

You’re kind of at the point where you don’t think anything will happen and you know you shouldn’t get your hopes up, and it goes how it usually goes? Except he kind of hugs you goodbye and your heart goes: 🦋🦋🦋

You go back to school, occasionally texting Tsumu about your graduate program, and before you know it, like 5 months pass by and you’re back for summer!

Tsumu texts you and is like… sorry but I’m forcing you to be my plus-one tonight for this dinner thing I have to go to

So you dress up and he comes to pick you up, and you’re really not sure why you were surprised to see Kiyoomi sitting at the table when you arrive you give Atsumu a nice smack on the back of the head for not warning you

You sit down at the table after greeting everyone, trying your best to not act awkward when you shoot sakusa a small smile that he returns politely (but you don’t see it because of his mask)

Atsumu sits weirdly close to you the entire dinner with his arm around the back of your chair, and he’s just acting strange in general??? Like he’s bragging about your degree program and about your accomplishments, you just know he’s trying something funny; but you don’t really say anything because you don’t want to disrespect him in front of the team’s staff as a guest

You almost choke on your wine and you catch on when Bokuto starts making comments after Atsumu says something,

Atsumu: …so yeah, pretty much she should be our next president in my humble opinion

Bokuto: 🙈WOAH. WHAT?😍 HOW COULD SHE GET ANY BETTER⁉️🙄 OR HOTTER⁉️💪🏼💋

You, sitting there: 🧍‍♀️

He’s so bad at acting I’m crying..,, it becomes so obvious that they’re trying to make Kiyoomi jealous

(the boys plotted beforehand, trying to get Omi to ask you out officially; after you left, he literally would never shut up about you whenever Atsumu mentioned you, and it was just obvious he was in his feels when it came to you)

Atsumu: she’s studying at a café tonight for finals

Sakusa: Yeah so I’m glad you brought it up, because I’ve been thinking about it for days. Fine I guess I’ll say it. Her favorite coffee blend is French roast and she only likes a dash of sugar with a lot of cream, but it has to be hazelnut creamer or else she doesn’t like any-

Everyone in the gym: 🗿

LMAO ANYWAYS ITS LOWKEY WORKING you look over at him and his face is like stone.. girl..

The dinner is almost over and Atsumu gets up to go to the restroom with a wink I hate him, and you get up to catch a breath of fresh air outside

You sit on a bench for a minute, calming yourself down after the eventful dinner, but then you see the door to the restaurant swing open, Sakusa looking around the corner before spotting you

Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks over and asks if he can join you, inspecting the bench before sitting down, pulling his mask down as well

He eases into a conversation by just asking you how you’re doing, basic stuff, but then in the middle of you going off on a tangent about your stupid professor, he stops you

“I missed you.”

He crosses his legs, not looking at you as he takes your hand, intertwines it with his, and places it in his lap

You gaze at him, taken back at his confession, noticing the slight pinkness tinging his pale cheeks

You say you missed him too, and then he’s asking you if you would like to go on an actual date with him

You: wait are you asking me out officially?

Him: Yes. No I’m not. Yes I am❤️

SKSLD Please he’s awkward help him a little, you agree and then you hear a tap on the window behind you, you turn around to see Tsumu, Bokuto and Adriah behind you with big grins on their faces LMFAO 🤡

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the small upturn of the corners of his lips as he hears Bokuto happily scream through the glass

#dont even get me started w this i dont want to look at it anymore ❤️#JUST TAKE IT LMFAOOOO #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyu headcanons #hq #sakusa kiyoomi x you #haikyuu x reader

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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Miles Between Us Chapter 14 ~The Element of Surprise ~

WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in The Reunion

They fitted perfectly, her softness cradling his boneless heap, making him hard as steel again. Some part of his brain must have still been functioning because he jerked and reached out for her bra to cover her when his doorbell rang. Christ! Forcing his body to move with marginal success, he yanked her up and pulled up his jeans.

Claire slid off the table and grabbed her clothes. "Who could that be?"

"That better not be yer uncle or ..." Jamie trailed off, muttering curses under his breath, annoyed at the disturbance as he was just revving up for part two of their lovemaking. When he opened the door, a sense of deja vu hit him when he saw Mrs Fitz standing there with what seemed like a plate of a lemon meringue pie. What the fuck?

"Mrs Fitz!"

The older woman didn't bother to hide her curiosity this time as her eyes tried to peer past his shoulders. "Heard ye have company, lad, and I havenae seen Miss Claire the last couple of days."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

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Six Days Later

Claire's heavy eyelids fluttered open, her brain still addled by sleep. It took her a while to gather her thoughts and remember how she'd made it to bed last night. She shifted slightly in bed, but there's a two-hundred-fifty pound of hard-muscled, naked male restricting her movement. Jamie's arm was draped across her waist, securing her against his chest, her legs confined under his heavier ones. She could feel his soft, steady breathing blowing warm air on top of her head, reminding her how well he'd been sleeping the last few nights. There had been no night terrors or unpleasant dreams interrupting his sleep, and she put it down to his workload during the day and their physical activities between the sheets at night.

Today was Friday, and the realisation caused a huge smile to spread across her face. Last night she'd worked late until past ten, and Jamie had found her fallen asleep in front of her laptop in her studio shed. He'd scooped her up in his arms and helped her get ready for bed, and just before sleep claimed her, he'd whispered he had a surprise for her today.

She wondered what the surprise was and guess it would probably be a long lie-in for them and breakfast in bed. Looking back, the past few days had flown by in a blur, packed with work and catching up with her uncle Lamb during nights. Ever since her emotional reunion with Jamie, her work-related things had gone from a shamble of mess to running smoothly. It's as if the universe had decided to grant her reprieve as everyone went out their way to appease her. Even her boss John seemed to have given her space and was allowing her to work in peace. Somehow, deep down, she had a sneaking suspicion Jamie had something to do with it.

It had all began at the start of the week when Jamie had been at work. Tom had stopped by the cottage to hand her a signed contract agreeing to his book's publication. By the time she'd told John the good news, he'd been in his element detailing his main point plan for getting the word out and announcing the book deal to Tom's adoring followers. She'd thought her boss would demand to get her and Tom on the next plane to London, but instead, John had told her he'd arranged a team to fly to Inverness for a formal meeting with their new author. As if that wasn't enough, two days later, Mary had produced enough drafts for Claire to work on and promised there would be more on the way. Her uncle, sensing work was piling, would occasionally stop by either to whip up something to eat or bring food while she'd been ensconced in her studio shed. Not that it was unusual for her uncle to perform domesticated pursuits; however, it's still surprising that he was going the extra mile to help around the house when he had the Highlands at disposal for his adventures being an outdoor person that he was.

It's becoming clear this week was proving to be a period of many turning points. She had no idea what the future had in store for her and Jamie, but she knew something had shifted in their relationship, and it was definitely for the better. Though she's still the same girl who's still trying to find her place in the world and fit in, she knew she'd changed, too. A few months ago, she would have probably backed down from any forms of conflicts, citing life as complicated enough without adding more complications. But she'd learned how to respond, choose fights that are worth fighting for and cast aside that wasn't deserving of her peace of mind. She'd also learned that once in a while, it's good for her sanity to give propriety and rules the middle finger when a situation called for it.

It's hard to believe she's planning her life in the Highlands, the place where her parents had met and found love in each other. In her quest to get to know them more, she'd spent her holidays here to be closer to their memories and live that adventure they'd so craved. Now, she was involved with a man tormented with demons. If her parents were still alive today, she wondered how they would receive Jamie. Would they have been like Jenny or her uncle, suspicious and sceptical of their relationship? Or would they have been happy with her choice just like Willie, Brian, and Ellen have been with Jamie's?

Deep in her heart, she knew that her parents would have taken one look at them and understood that Jamie was special and meant to be her life adventure. From what Claire had surmised from uncle Lamb's stories, her parents have been that kind of people, magnanimous of spirit and always saw the best in others. Jamie was like that too. He'd taken a gamble with her despite their differences and the geographical challenges ahead. Though it seemed she was helping him with his condition, unbeknownst to Jamie, he too was helping her heal the part of her that became an orphan. In some invisible way, he was repairing something in the fabric of her world that had been torn down the middle when her parents passed away. She absorbed that thought and was reminded of what Uncle Lamb once told her, that her father always had a peculiar sense of humour. With that in mind, she'd like to think that just maybe her father had sent Jamie her way on purpose. His way of telling her to let go of the past, not over-think, embrace the Highlands as much as he had and just love.

Lying next to Jamie in bed, she felt totally at peace. They might have had a crisis of faith, but she was confident they'll find their way through whatever path was laid before them. Their love wasn't and probably never going to be easy, given their journey had been emotional, tangled with roadblocks, denials and self-preservation. Still, she wanted to find her way with him. She'd just discovered this strength she didn't realise she had, and Jamie continued to surprise her with his single-mindedness purpose to be cured. Someone once said there's no fulfilment without a bit of struggle. Just like in the stories she hoped to publish one day, the heroes had to break down first and bleed before earning their happy ending. Well, if that's the rule, she couldn't envision facing life's trials and tests with any other person to stand beside her other than Jamie.

Her smile was still in place when her thoughts were suspended by a rush of heat as Jamie's hand coasted over her hip to disappear between her thighs. A sudden thrill shot through her, making her breath catch in her lungs. He shifted the leg holding her thighs down and deftly opened her to his touch, stroking the sensitive flesh in between. She felt his shaft stir against her bottom as she scooted closer to him, eliciting a guttural sound to escape his lips.

"I can practically hear the cogs turning in yer head, Sassenach," he muttered thickly, his breathing turning shallow at the back of her neck. He nipped her earlobe between his teeth and tugged. "What's going on in that mind of yers?"

"Oh, this and that and how you've been sleeping soundly ...these last few nights." She gasped out loud when he rubbed her nub with a calloused thumb. She tilted her head back to look at his face, and her lips were met by a long-drawn, possessive kiss. By the time their mouths parted, she was panting for air and squirming against him mindlessly.

"Christ, ye're ready for me. Why did ye no' wake me up?" He thrust his finger deep inside her, fondling the spot he knew drove her wild and frantic. "Next time ye want me, wake me up."

"I-I couldn't. You were sleeping so peacefully."

He paused his ministrations. "That's no' the answer I was hoping to hear."

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! "Y-yes, next time, I'll wake you up!"

"That's my lass." He sank another finger into her entrance. But as she tried to clench around him, his fingers slid out, using her wetness to coat her nub and gently rub her aching flesh. She wanted to scream at him for teasing her, but he only softly chuckled against her neck. At that moment, she needed to come more than she needed air. She hoarsely whispered his name in a plea for release. "Ach, no' yet, Sassenach ... ye listen better when I'm touching ye." She yelped when he suddenly yanked the covers away and flipped her on her stomach, the crisp morning air caressing her heated skin. "Let me see first that beautiful arse of yers." He shoved a pillow beneath her hips, putting her in a highly arousing position, her face mushed against the mattress and her bottom in the air. "Such a beautiful bum."

"Jamie ..."

He kneaded the curves of her buttocks as he let out a frustrated male groan. "Let us talk first. This is the only time I'm pretty sure ye're no' gonnae argue with me with what I'm about to say. Ye listening?"

"Yes, yes ...get on with it, damn it!"

He laughed out loud just before his lips travelled along the path of her spine, kissing and nibbling her flesh. One hand slid around her belly and down the apex of her thighs, slipping blunt fingers into her folds as his mouth moved to her neck. He lingered there, biting hard and then soothing the sting with a lick of his tongue. Anticipation pulsated within her body, and goosebumps erupted on her skin as the weight of his erection slid against her upturned bottom, and Jamie positioned himself behind her. When he hefted her higher with his forearm, she let out a squeak. "Ye'll no' be working this weekend."

"Jamie," she whimpered. "B-but I can't."

"Oh yes, ye can." Skilled fingers stroke her sensitive nub, and with one thrust of his hips, he completely filled her, taking her by surprise. She nearly screamed, pressing her mouth against the mattress, suddenly mindful of nosey neighbours. She remembered what Jamie had told her about Mrs Fitz and muffled her moans on the covers of the bed.

"Oh, God, this is not fair," she breathed on an uneven exhale.

"I told ye last night, I have a wee surprise for ye. Ye've worked long enough this week. Ye're taking a wee break this weekend." When she didn't respond, he stilled his hips and took out his fingers from inside her. "You need a break, Sassenach. Now, for the love of God, just say yes, Jamie."

When Jamie drew out his hardness and plunged deeply back into her, heart-stopping sensations coursed through her whole body. Something about how he positioned her, the fluid, smooth drives of his movement made her mad with need. She wanted to urge him to go faster, but she clamped her mouth shut. He was deliberately torturing her and forcing her to agree with him. So she decided she was going to get her own back. Contracting her inner walls, she clenched around him. From experience, she knew the more he had to work to push into her, the wilder he would become. Just when she thought she finally got the upper hand, he paused and dropped his weight, stopping just short of squashing her. "No, no, no! Please don't stop!" she wailed.

"Oh, aye." He pushed his lower body tight to her bottom, his erection throbbing inside her. When she tried to wriggle her bum to urge him to start moving again, he firmly gripped her hips in place. "Ah, I ken what ye're up to," he whispered hotly in her ears. "I'm no' taking no for an answer. Ye owe this break to yourself."

"You don't play fair."

"Neither do ye."

Thinking she could compromise later after spending the whole morning with him, she finally conceded. "Fine. Just keep moving, for God's sake!" she hissed.

He let out a pained laugh and pressed his lips on the crook of her neck. "Good lass, ye ken it makes sense." Then cursing under his breath, he moved all the way out in one smooth slide before deliciously gliding deep back. "Christ, I can feel ye want to come, but ye're going to stay with me a little longer. Ye fell asleep on me last night, leaving me with a painful cockstand."

"Jesus, Jamie."

"Aye," he rasped hoarsely into her hair. "I said the same thing when ye wriggled that pert arse against me and fell asleep immediately."

The way his thickness was invading her from an angle almost sent her hurtling over the edge. And it gave her a new appreciation for math. The thought almost made her laughed out loud if it wasn't for the pulsing pleasure between her legs.

"Christ ...look at ye," Jamie gritted, his voice sounding raw and almost severe. "So bloody perfect."

He nudged her legs wider and changed his movements to short, strong strokes, increasing his pace with primitive energy that left her gasping for breath. With the sound of their slapping bodies, the earthy scent of arousal, the sweaty slide of skin, her belly began to tighten and coil.

"I just want to make ye happy, Sassenach," he groaned, bearing down his upper body more, his hips relentlessly pounding into hers. "So just say yes to my wee surprise, aye?"

"Yes, yes, yes." Their voices sounded so far away, and her initial hesitation about taking a break from work almost forgotten. Not entirely, though. She tried to grasp that mental note about emails to be sent, but the hand gripping her hips moved, and fingers slid to rub her nub, stroking and pushing her further towards her peak. She gave in and widened her thighs to let him fill her more. But it left her no time to prepare for the release that shattered her apart, her love for him and the physical pleasure fusing to intensify the sensations blasting through her. It threatened to overwhelm her, but Jamie's presence anchored her as he followed her over, groaning her name, gripping her hips with a fierceness as he claimed her for his.

Moments later, he pulled her boneless body in his arms and tucked her into his chest, tugging the covers over them and curving his front to her back. He held her tightly as the morning light streamed through the windows.

Battling to keep her eyes open, thoughts of work slithered in, but it kept flittering away with her consciousness before she could dwell on it. Maybe just for a minute, she thought. But Jamie smelled so good, and his tender strokes enticed a hazy sleep to claim her muscles, dragging her down into the dark. Just one minute.

As she eased into sleep, his whisper drifted toward her unconscious. "It's still early, Sassenach. Sleep a wee bit more. Your wee surprise will come soon enough."

..........

Claire woke for the second time that morning with an unladylike shriek when the mattress dipped and moved. Muddled, she jackknifed into a sitting position, eyes scanning wildly around the curtain-dimmed room for a trespasser. Claire knew someone was there, her gut instinct telling her it wasn't Jamie. Summoning her eyes to refocus, she collapsed with relief when she realised who it was sat at the foot of the bed.

"Surprise!" Annalise squealed, clapping her hands.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" She swiped her bedraggled hair out of her face. "You scared me bloody witless."

"Bloody hell, you're jumpy." Annalise shifted a hip on the bed. "Jamie's bad dreams rubbing off on you now, are they?"

"That's not something to joke about," she glowered at her friend, pulling the covers up to her chin.

Annalise' smile waned a bit. "Hey, what's up? I'm not making fun of Jamie's nightmares, and you know that." Her shoulders slumped. "In case you don't know, bad dreams can happen to anyone. In fact, I had a bad dream a few days ago. I was being chased by a pirate."

Suddenly feeling bad for snapping at her friend, she mentally dispersed the sleep fog in her brain and gave Annalise an apologetic smile. So this was her surprise, she thought. Not that Claire wasn't happy to see her friend, but she'd expected Jamie's surprise to be a romantic weekend with him. She let out a sigh. "Chased by a pirate, huh? Let me guess ...sunken chest and no booty?"

Annalise perked up at Claire's feeble attempt to sound less grumpy. "Har de har har! I didn't realise you could be funny before coffee. A total package for a marauding pirate if I may say so."

"Tell that to Captain Beard," she mumbled, getting out of bed.

"Aye, matey!" Annalise mischievously winked. "That's if he happens to be in Isle of Harris this weekend. Which is where, by the way, we're going, as in, now! So get packing!"

Claire stilled and shook her head. "Wot?" She began to shake her head, tugging the covers around her as she made her way to the dresser. "Oh no, no, no! I'm not leaving this place for any man or woman, including you, blondie! I've got a pile of work to do. You know I have deadlines."

"Oh no, you don't. You stop right there, missy! Have you forgotten you agreed with Jamie to take a weekend break?"

Claire's eyes widened. "Oh, did he also tell you how he got me to agree?"

"No. But you can tell me later on the plane."

"Plane?" Claire dropped her face in her hands. "Oh, God, I can't believe I agreed to this. Jamie never told me anything."

Annalise stood up from where she was sitting and crossed her arms across her chest. "Hmmm, you don't look too happy to be spending time with me."

She puffed out a breath. "It's not that ..."

"We haven't had girly time in ages, Claire. Jamie thought it would do you a world of good to have a bit of fun."

"So now what? You and Jamie plotting and ganging up on me behind my back, is that it?" Claire accused. "What about Willie? Surely, you miss him more than me. When was the last time you saw him?"

Annalise grinned. "Don't worry about Willie. We have been doing a lot of catching up all night last night, and you want to know what he did?"

Claire's face crumpled in disgust as she held up a hand. "Oh, gross! Too much information. I don't want to hear about your sex life."

Annalise laughed out loud. "Fine, I won't discuss our sex life if you start packing now. Besides, you wouldn't want to waste the tickets Jamie worked so hard for, now, do you?"

Oh dear Lord, save me from well-meaning friends! She didn't really want to leave, but if Jamie had spent money organising this trip, she wasn't about to let it go to waste. But ... "How about uncle Lamb? He came to see me, and I can't just leave him."

"He knows all about the trip, and I've been told he's got a few excursions planned around the Highlands."

"Oh, well ...if that's the case, I need to call Mary and John and let them know what I'm up to this weekend."

Annalise grinned. "Jamie's sorted it already."

"Wot?" she exclaimed with disbelief, her hands landing onto her hips. "Jamie's been planning this with you all along, hasn't he?" She shook her head. "I-I can't believe it!"

"You better believe it."

Claire blew out a breath of exasperation. "Fine! Grab my suitcase. It's in the airing cupboard."

"Yay!" Annalise whirled on her feet and pumped her fist in the air. Claire couldn't help but smile as enthusiasm began to wiggle its way through her system. Maybe Jamie was right. She owed it to herself to have a break, and probably a change of scenery was what she needed. After Mary had delivered the goods, Claire had worked herself to the bone all week and sometimes into the wee hours of the morning. She was already in her second round of edits on the extensive manuscripts Mary had submitted and must admit they were indeed making progress. As for Tom, her job with him was done, and the team organised by John should be arriving next week. It was definitely time for a bit of fun.

On second thoughts, though it was generous of Jamie to arrange the trip, it would have been nice if he could come along too. But the idea of Jamie's condition worsening with something as simple as weekend trips away brought a feeling of melancholy to descend upon her. She had no doubt Jamie would be cured, and they'd be able to travel together one day, so she forced herself to shake off the momentary bout of wistfulness when Annalise came bounding back with her small suitcase.

"So ...you talked to Jamie. Where is he, by the way?" she asked, grabbing clothes from the dresser and throwing them in the bed. "He left early this morning."

"Oh! Jamie said he needed to be somewhere important, and he'll see you when we return. Willie will be driving us to the airport." When Claire frowned, Annalise came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, we'll only be away for two days, and you'll see him again Sunday night."

It was apparent to Claire she'd been at a disadvantage waking up to the news of the weekend trip because if Jamie had suggested it a few days ago, she would have definitely put her foot down and refused. Unfortunately, Annalise and Jamie knew her too well; hence they'd planned this trip in secrecy.

Claire absorbed that for a few heartbeats and felt a tad of guilt. It had been a while she'd spent time with Annalise, and once her job was done in London, she'd be living with Jamie. Plus, who knew when she'd have another chance to hang out with her best friend ...just the two of them and in the Isle of Harris at that. Besides, they always had a great time together. There was no sense in spoiling their spontaneous weekend with her stubbornness. She might as well make the most of it.

Claire turned to face her friend and smiled. "Do I have time to shower?"

"Plenty of time," Annalise beamed. "While you get ready, I'll make some coffee. I know what you're like without your cuppa first thing." And with that, she danced out of the room, whistling, leaving Claire to shake her head in amusement.

Later that morning, as they drove past the motorway exit for the airport, Claire shifted restlessly in the backseat of Willie's car, watching the familiar structure pass by in a blur outside her window. She frowned. Willie must have forgotten to take the turn. Uh oh! But before she could say anything, Willie veered to a different dual-carriageway. She tried to relax back into her seat, thinking there was probably a different route to the airport she didn't know of.

Eventually, they pulled to a stop in front of a building that didn't resemble a terminal, but there was an airfield and a charter plane coming out of the hangar. When Willie stepped out of the car, a man with worn jeans, a black leather jacket and a pair of aviators waved. He looked kind of familiar, but Claire was unsure.

"Who is that?" Claire asked quietly.

Annalise followed her line of vision. "Oh, I thought you knew that guy." She frowned when Claire shook her head and squinted to get a better look. "I was told the guy flying our plane was the soon to be famous Highlands' ultimate guide to Scotland." As if on cue, the man removed his aviators and started walking towards their car, a smile plastered to his unshaven face. When he waved at them, Annalise giggled, and Claire's eyes widened in confusion. "You probably can't recognise him from afar ...it's your author, Tom Christie," Annalise announced with a satisfied smile and to her utmost shock. "He's flying us to Stornoway."

What the bloody hell? Jamie arranged this?

Dear Readers,

Thank you all for your readership and the feedback from the previous chapter. I'm super thrilled a lot of you enjoyed it after what I put you all through with Jamie and Claire's roller-coaster journey. I hope it was worth it all in the end.

Speaking of the end, the next chapter will be the last for this arc, and after taking a break, I will start arc three of the WONDERWALL series. I'll keep you updated here. Meanwhile, feel free to speculate what the next chapter will be. Until my next update, wishing you all good health and vibes. X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #claire beauchamp/jamie fraser #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #outlanderfanfic

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spunky-89 · 3 years

Text

When it Rains it Pours

A/N: I’m back again, who knows for how long, but what matters is that I made a thing and I get to share it with you all.

WARNING I made a self fulfilling fic during a dark time so it might be triggering to those with depression and I do talk very briefly about self harm....so yeah

WC: 3k

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Life was wearing you down. It felt like everything was going wrong. You were failing two classes, your car was totaled, your mom was sick, you weren’t sleeping, your parents were arguing all the time now, and that was just scratching the surface of your problems. Not to mention the fact that your mental health was plummeting. The only good thing you felt you had left was your boyfriend, Stiles. He was always so supportive and he was there whenever you needed him. But soon enough, you knew you would lose him too.

It was late in the evening, lacrosse practice had just ended and you were waiting by Stiles’ jeep. It was cold and dark and you were beyond tired. But as soon as you heard him approach you slapped your fake smile on and pretended everything was fine. And apparently, you were a good actress cause he never noticed. He went on and on about practice and coach and the latest supernatural crisis. It actually made you calmer, hearing him ramble. Somethings never change and you were glad for that. Like your tradition of always stopping to grab a bite to eat after Friday practices. You desperately wanted to go, but you weren’t sure how long you could hold this facade of being okay. So with a heavy heart, you asked him to just drop you at home, making the excuse your mom needed something from you. Like the wonderful boyfriend he was, he offered to help and you could just order in. But you declined, promising to call him first thing in the morning. As you opened your front door you could hear your parents arguing again, but you kept your smile up and turned to wave at Stiles. As soon as the door was closed you let out a deep breath, dropping the fake smile and trudging to your room. You threw your bag on your desk chair and headed straight for your bed. You just laid there thinking as you tried to muffle the sounds of your parents arguing with a pillow over your head. You woke up hours later, somewhere around 2 a.m., and realized you fell asleep in your clothes. You quickly changed into something comfier, climbing right back into bed. You decided to start working on your upcoming english essay, but you struggled to come up with any words. Or better yet, you had the ideas in your head, the problem was getting those thoughts on paper. You barely realized you’d been up all night, the only reason you did was you noticed the sunlight beginning to filter into your room. You sighed and put your books and laptop away and tried to grab a few hours more sleep. You didn’t really succeed, falling asleep around 8 and waking back up at 9:30. You sent a quick message to Stiles to let him know you were staying home to study and to call if anything life-threatening was occurring. He asked if you wanted company but you denied. Not thinking you’d be able to put on a fake smile today. So you went to the kitchen to grab some food before you locked yourself in your room, determined not to do anything but study and do homework. You got so absorbed in your work you didn’t notice your phone blowing up with texts and calls. You didn’t notice that lunch came and went without you eating anything. You didn’t notice your severe dehydration, nor your hunger. You were numb to everything. So much so you ended up falling asleep at your desk to the sounds of your parents’ screaming match.

You kept this pattern up for about 3 weeks. You slapped on your fake smile at school and pretended you were fine. If someone asked you just said you were anxious about school and grades. Everyone bought it.

With each day you were becoming more tired and drained. A part of you told you to tell someone, to get help, but the other, louder, part said no. So you kept it all in. It was starting to show. Your grades were slipping more, you were gaunt (luckily makeup kept anyone from seeing that), and you only wore baggy clothes to hide the obvious weight loss from not eating. It almost hurt that no one noticed your terrible state, but you didn’t blame them. How could they if you acted like everything was fine? What they did notice, was you pulling away from the pack. You didn’t show up to pack meetings, and the ones you did come to you never stayed for chit-chat. And worst of all, you hadn’t been alone with Stiles in weeks. You knew he would figure you out, he always could. But you didn’t want him to. He was already dealing with enough, he didn’t need to be worrying about you too. The pack would try and corner you at school but you learned to be slippery, learned to evade the wolves, other supernatural creatures, and the humans.

You could tell you were hurting Stiles, and that killed you, but you thought maybe distance would be good. He could focus on other things and not have to deal with you. Yes, you decided, he was better without you. They all were. So you made a plan. You would break up with Stiles by saying you didn’t like him anymore and you were sick of the pack. That way it was kind of breaking up with everyone. Then you would have your mom pull you out of school and you could take online classes instead, limiting your chance of seeing the pack.

It was a Wednesday, after school. It was pouring outside but you knew Coach would still make the team practice. This was your opportunity. You sat in your car in the driveway of your home and called Stiles. You prayed he wouldn’t answer, as that would make things harder. When you heard his voicemail pick up, you took a deep shaky breath.

“Hey Stiles, um look, I know it’s kinda shitty to do this over the phone but uh, I don’t think we should be together anymore. I just don’t feel the same way I did, and I know it was wrong of me to drag this out and make it worse by distancing myself first, but I thought it would help lessen the pain. I’m sorry, I wish you the best.” As soon as you hung up your sobs were echoing through the car, meshing well with the sounds of the downpour. You didn’t do what you’d wanted, which was to sound like you were just uninterested and over the pack. Instead, your voice was shaky from holding back tears. You hoped Stiles wouldn’t notice and it would be enough to cut ties with the whole pack.

It took you about half an hour before you were able to get out of your car and start to head inside. By the time you got to the door, you were soaked. Your hands shook as you tried to get the key into the lock, but between the anxiety and the freezing rain, you had no luck. Then you heard the familiar rumble of Roscoe and you tried twice as hard to open the door, but you couldn’t so you just cursed as tears started to mix with the rain, hindering your vision. You could hear his feet slapping against the pavement as he ran to you. You tried to take a deep breath and focus but it was impossible.

He shouted your name but you ignored him, almost cheering when you got the door unlocked. You tried to enter and close the door before he got to it but you weren’t quite fast enough. As you were rushing to slam the door he put his hand out and shoved against it, keeping you from closing the door.

“Stop fighting me and just talk to me!” He exclaimed.

“Just go away!”

“No, I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell is going on,” he grunted as he shoved hard and managed to slide in before you managed to push back.

He grabbed your arm to try and turn you to face him but you chose to walk past him out the door, just trying to get away from him, knowing you would just take back everything you said, just to feel his arms around you one last time.

“Where are you-” He started to call after you but ended up giving chase instead.

So you started to run. You didn’t know where you were running, you just knew you couldn’t stop. Unfortunately, with the torrential downpour, you were having a hard time seeing and ended up tripping over a pothole and falling to the ground. Your body ached and your skin stung at the contact with the street, but you ignored it and tried to push on. Unfortunately, your fall gave Stiles enough time to catch up to you. He grabbed your arms and helped you up, never once letting go of you.

“Let me go Stiles.”

“No. Not until you explain yourself.” He shouted over the rain.

“Just go home!” You cried out.

He just shook his head and stared at you, standing in the middle of the street, the rain still pouring.

“Why? Why follow me? Why bother?” You asked finally, having to shout to be heard over the rain.

“Because I will follow you anywhere! Even into the middle of the street during a massive storm.” He called back.

“Why?”

“Because I love you!” He yelled, his voice letting out hints of frustration.

It was your turn to just stare at him, tears mixing with the rain as it flowed down your cheeks. You still felt numb, felt like none of this made sense, that he should be happy to be rid of a burden like yourself. You lost all sense of self and felt your legs give out from underneath you, though you were lucky enough to not hit the ground again as Stiles was there to catch you and swiftly lift you into his arms.

Slowly he walked the two of you back to your house, but you barely noticed, too stuck in your head. You didn’t even notice how hard you were clinging to him. He carried you into your room and sat down on the end of your bed and just held you as you cried. You occasionally babbled something like an apology, but he would just shush you and continue to rock you gently.

When the tears slowed slightly and you were able to make complete sentences, you decided to just come clean about everything and if he left you, you would understand.

“Listen Stiles, I-”

“Nope, stop right there. Before we talk about this, we need to get into some warm, dry clothes before one of us ends up sick.” He said with finality. As he said it you finally realized some of the numbness you felt was because you were cold and wet. You nodded as you went to fetch some dry towels and clothes for both you and Stiles. You had stolen enough of his clothes and he had left so much that half his wardrobe seemed to be at your house. The two of you dried off and changed in silence. You were shaking the whole time and once you had finished toweling off your hair, you suddenly were terrified to face him. So you kept your back to him and fiddled with the towel in your hands. The tears had stopped, but when you thought about the boy standing behind you, they started to well up again.

You felt his arms slip around you and take the towel gently from your hands, putting it on the dresser before he tightened his arms around you and just held you. When he laid a kiss on the side of your head the tears started to flow once more. When the first sob bubbled out, he turned you around and just stroked the back of your head in a soothing manner.

“Why are you still here?” you managed to ask between sobs. He sighed and led you back towards your bed, pulling back the covers and slipping under them before opening his arms and inviting you in. You climbed into his arms like so many times before, but what used to feel like heaven only made your heart clench in fear, terrified you were going to lose the one good thing you had left in your life.

“So what’s going on with you, what happened?” He asked gently, laying on his back as you curled into his side.

“Does it matter?” you spoke quietly.

“It does to me.” He said grabbing your one hand and holding it tightly before laying a kiss on it.

You sigh as you try desperately to find words that describe the awful feelings you were feeling. He waited patiently, playing with your fingers absentmindedly.

“I guess I-I just give up. I feel so numb now because like I’ve given all I can and it’s never enough, so why bother trying right?” You spoke slowly. You felt him go rigid as he turned your hand over to look at your wrists then pulled you to sit up and took your face in his hands, his eyes darting around your face.

“Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it does.” He spoke with fear in his voice.

“What do you…” you trailed off as you cocked your head a little bit, trying desperately to decipher his question/statement.

“Please tell me you haven’t been- been hurting yourself.” He all but begged, his voice breaking as he did.

Oh. Your brain paused for a moment, registering the look on his face as he watched every twitch on yours. The real fear and worry you saw on his face stopped you, you knew he cared but you didn’t think that it was enough to cause this reaction to his query.

You shook your head in response, still at a loss for words.

“Promise me you aren’t lying. Please, just be straight with me.”

“I’m not lying,” You recoiled at his seeming distrust of your answer, pretty much saying he didn’t believe you. His hands dropped from your face as you tried to move away. But a hand pulling you back kept you from going too far.

“Hey, hey, hey, please don’t do this. I’m just trying to be sure because if you are then I-I-I don’t know what I’d do but I’m just worried and you’ve shut me out for weeks and now this- I just want to know what’s wrong so I can try to fix it.”

“You can’t fix it, Stiles, I’m broken and in pieces, I am not your jeep that you can just duct tape back together.” You spoke, a harshness peaking out, covering all the other emotions. You heard him sigh as he tried to get you to look at him but you refused.

“Of course I know that. But I’m not going to just sit here and let you- let you suffer and deteriorate. I can’t do that.” He said.

“Why? Why not? Why won’t you just let me rot away in my room, huh? Why don’t you just leave? Be thankful to be free of me.” You all but yelled.

“Why? Are you serious?” He said softly, “Do you really think that low of yourself that you forgot all that we’ve been through together, the moments we had, the love we shared.” His voice felt like knives as he added, “Or at least the love I thought we shared.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your heart breaking at the implications of his statement. You had gotten off the bed at this point and had backed towards the corner of your room, holding your arms tight across your stomach as you tried to curl in on yourself. They were right, the voices in your head were right. All you did was end up hurting him, now he hates you. Well, it’s not like you’re surprised, you weren’t worthy of his love, but hate, maybe you deserved that.

He groaned as he ran his hands down his face in frustration.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, stop doing that! Stop trying to hold onto me! Let me go, I’m not worth this.” You said aggravatedly, tears once again pouring from your eyes. This was it you thought, this was the end. You wanted to sigh of relief but you were too devastated to do so.

“Who decided that huh? Who decided you weren’t worthy? Cause to me I’m the one not worthy of you.” He said and you scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re kind and selfless, and so many other wonderful things. And I’m just a spazzy kid who brings nothing but trouble. Who has almost gotten you killed multiple times.”

You just shook your head feverishly as he advanced towards you. You tried to shrink back but you could only go so far and when he reached you he took your face in his hands and he kissed you. He kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever do so. And of course, you melted into it. He was the love of your life and nothing compared to the love you felt in that moment. His hands moved to wrap tightly around you, holding you impossibly closer.

“Don’t push me away, let me help you.” He murmured against your lips. Your eyes stayed closed as you rested your forehead against his.

“I don’t know how,” you almost whimpered,

“We’ll figure this out, together.” He promised. You just nodded and let him hold you. And at that moment, you had hope again.

#stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf one shot #teen wolf fanfiction #angst #but happy ending

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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 24 - If You Want Me...

Masterlist; Chapter 23

Summary: Tension reaches its boiling point when you overhear an unfortunate conversation. With unexpected allies, you attempt to break the impasse once and for all.

Warnings: ANGST (still but... well you’ll see ;)); at few points R! is being a little dramatic which can be triggering if you’ve been dealing with intrusive thoughts (nothing too bad though); swearing.

Author’s Notes: Finally! It’s been a wild ride... and god am I happy i’ve managed. This part took a lot of effort but I quite like what I came up with... even if sometimes it gets too angsty. Can’t wait for what’s coming next, however... :)))) Hope you enjoy and all feedback is always appreciated! <3

The shooting range on the icebreaker was a strange place. It occupied a large proportion of the deck floor in the accommodation part of the ship, next to the turnstile and sparring grounds. With darkness swallowing every corner that was not lit up by the blinking fluorescents, it was a perfect place to hide. Soon it became your go-to solace when things got difficult, and the only other idea you could come up with involved going outside without the oxygen mask attached. You did not want to go that far. Yet. Target practice became your favourite occupation. It was simple and did not involve talking to people that could give you worrying looks or comment on the dark circles underneath your eyes. Sleep was no longer a thing, with you catching three-hour-long naps at best, in between never-ending worrying and staring at the ceiling, reminiscing the past. The constant headaches were something you soldiered through, accepting them as a part of reality. The worst part of that new life was the fact that you and Neil stopped talking to each other altogether. Not even empty pleasantries could get through the stone-cold awkwardness and tension capable of killing you before the heartache would. After a day of near-misses and horrifying mistakes that culminated with you accidentally spilling boiling water all over the sweater when Neil entered the galley, you both mastered the art of hiding. You only saw him once afterwards, sitting at the table in the corner of the canteen. That was almost two days ago, and you were thankful.

Once you went through the assigned daily rounds, you moved onto the task of cleaning the guns and rifles. Polishing the metal cases and arranging the bullets was as close to therapy as it could get. With the repetitive action occupying your brain, there was no time to get emotional over things you could not change. Only at the shooting range, you did not feel so utterly hopeless. So terribly unloved. A sudden noise by the airlock made you look up. Conveniently the air in the range was sealed so that you need not to worry about oxygen masks during the target practice. It also meant you got approximately five seconds warning to check the identity of the intruder. This time you were surprised.

“Hi, Y/N. Thought I’d find you here” TP’s dark gaze slid over you cautiously.

Taking off the mask, he joined you at the makeshift table, looking at the arsenal you have spread over the surface. You eyed him with curiosity. That was unexpected. So far, he has never interacted with you outside of the meetings. And every time he did, you could not stop thinking about how much he knew. Who did he see when he looked at you?

“Afternoon” shaking off the reverie, you offered him a tight smile, “Is it afternoon?” glancing at the watch, you grimaced, “Oh,”

The last time you checked, it was 3 pm. The blue numbers on your wrist were mercilessly ticking away. 8:30 pm. How the fuck. TP caught your silent crisis as he asked:

“How long have you been down here?” looking up, you encountered a glimmer of worry in his eyes.

Interesting.

“Umm, five hours?” it felt like the best estimate.

It was probably longer. But he need not know that.

“Jesus,” wincing, he directed his taxing gaze back onto you, “When was the last time you had food?” tone strictly business.

The truth was that you did not remember. With everything falling apart and losing meaning, food became an afterthought. Half the time you would realise you only had one meal around 1 am, forcing you to tiptoe to the kitchen and grab something from the cupboard. A hungry stomach was nothing compared to all the other issues. It could be ignored.

“Breakfast. I’m not hungry though,” brushing off the concern you chose defiance, “Is this an interrogation?” you arched one eyebrow and cocked the gun you have wiped clean.

TP snorted at your comedic timing.

“No, I come here in peace” he raised his hands in defeat and added, “To see if you’re… alright” the hesitation made you scoff.

“You know that I’m not. Because things are generally far from alright,” letting annoyance slip into the sentence, you let go of the tools and met his gaze with coldness.

The deepening frown was concerning. You were being unfair. After all, it was not him who has caused all this pain. Remorse nipped at your heart as you sighed heavily.

“Sorry, that was unnecessary,” he accepted your apologetic smile with a nod, giving the courage to continue, “And I’m also sorry that you all have to witness that mess in the meetings. I’d rather it stayed between him and me... but he seems to disagree” you shrugged.

Sometimes you did wonder why Neil seemed so intent on making your arguments a public spectacle. Whether that was a part of the intricate plan to make you look like an idiot or a result of his emotions boiling over. Not that it mattered. Everyone on the team knew what the deal was anyway. A poor, naïve you, desperately in love with someone who could not care less. Nothing out of the ordinary. Judging by TP’s passing frown, for him too the topic was rather uncomfortable. He took a long moment to respond, looking for answers in the rows of bullets you have arranged on the table.

“Not going to lie, it’s awkward, but at least I know what’s going on, and I can offer to listen” he met your gaze with newly found determination.

Okay… Confiding in TP was quite low on the list of things you expected to have the opportunity of doing. But then so was having to convince Neil not to get himself killed for the sake of the operation. Anything goes.

“Aren’t you taking a side?” that suspicious voice in your head was difficult to get rid of, “Agreeing with him that I’m stupid, emotional, and overall a burden?” you recited the memorized litany of epithets with a stone-cold expression.

The words have lost their meanings after you have put them apart in the quiet of your mind. Now they were just sounds, incapable of inflicting pain. It was the least that could be done.

“He went too far with that” TP winced, his eyes expressing traces of disapproval, “I might not know you well, but you’re none of these things,” a sympathetic smile softening the tone.

An open hand. An olive branch. Why not? Taking a deep breath, you got ready to open up before the most unexpecting of allies.

“In a way, he was right though…” you looked down, trying to find the needed strength, “I am stupid because I have allowed myself to care too much for him” there it is, “And now I’m paying for it” when you met his eyes again, you found nothing but thoughtfulness.

It was something you thought about often as well. The fact that Neil was right, you did care, and that it was perhaps the reason for your demise. But who could blame you for falling for the bastard looking like the devil? And equally charming too.

“Maybe it’s a little too forward, but-” TP’s tentative tone made you grin.

In moments like this, you acutely remembered that he was still a rookie. Not used to the half-truths and strange tenets you accepted as your credo. His innocence was adorable even.

“In this profession, a it’s sometimes nice to say the truth. Shoot away” you waved your hand dismissively, anticipating the question.

There is a first time for everything.

“Fair point” he mirrored your smile before asking, “Do you love him?”

Plain and simple. Ignoring the panic, you took a moment to ponder the answer. It was… obvious. You told Neil as much twice before, and no amount of pretending and lies could ever undo it. The words were his. Just as you were. Unfortunately.

“I’d want to say no, that I got over it, but… Yes, I do,” you offered the answer with a helpless frown, “Think any idiot can see it” noticing a hint of embarrassment briefly you patted TP’s shoulder, “No matter how much he hurts me, I always find myself wishing things could be… like they once were”

Whatever that meant. In truth, you wanted more. You wanted to wake up next to him every morning. You wanted affirmations of love every day as you tasted his coffee-stained lips. You wanted to lie in his embrace, feeling desired and loved. But most of all, you wanted to be able to lace up your fingers with his, following the instincts that became your second nature. To card your fingers through his silky golden strands and to give him everything he would desire. You wanted to be his. He was supposed to be yours. Or was the universe wrong?

Thoughts of that kind could be lethal. Shaking yourself awake, you met TP’s eyes. Apart from the lack of surprise at your admission, you noticed something strange. A passing realization. As though he has heard something similar before but was afraid to speak up. Once again, you found yourself wondering what Neil told him. What did he mean by ‘things you and I should explain to each other’? For a moment, you wanted to jump head in and ask. But what good would knowing the truth be when you could not act on it? As though aware of your increasing dilemma, the man spoke up again.

“I’m sorry for Oslo” your eyes widened at the reminder.

“Why?” blurting out the question, you eyed him cautiously.

The deepening discomfort radiating off him confirmed your assumptions. That was it. He knew what nearly happened that night. And he was flustered about his role in it. That was not the conversation you ever expected to have.

“I can’t help but think that maybe if I hadn’t… interrupted you, it would’ve-” he stumbled over the sentence somewhat endearingly.

Perhaps it was the lack of care that made you say the next words. Or maybe just the fact that nothing mattered anymore, and so who could judge you for the purest form of honesty.

“Doubt it,” interrupting him with a sour smile, you added, “Maybe it’s good you knocked then… Least he doesn’t have absolutely everything” noticing the alarm painted on TP’s face, you blushed.

Yep, too far. Still true, however.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t have to know that much” you brushed off the sudden awkwardness with a sincere apology.

“I can pretend I’ve never heard it” it was his turn to give a reassuring shoulder squeeze.

You could feel the strange companionship forming. Sure you did not mind. Relaxing back in the chair, you spoke up:

“Thanks,” as TP also visibly reclined, you brought up the thought that was not letting go of your mind, “I don’t know how much he has told you about… this,” gesturing vaguely, you bit your lip.

Somehow you knew that he would not betray Neil by sharing with you everything that has been said. But even crumbs would do…

“Quite a bit,” you watched him closely, intrigued by the hesitation, “Enough for me to know that you’re someone I can trust and that he had reasons to be acting that happy in Tallinn before the action” oh.

That painful pang in your heart was heart to ignore. You winced, feeling the steady gaze fixed on your face. The analysis was mutual. Neil, happy, back in Tallinn. Because of you. You have lost too much.

“What do you mean?” treading carefully, you asked the safest of questions.

A small smile on his face showed you just how obvious you were. Lovesick idiot.

“Hours he has spent texting someone, phone calls he would pick up instantly and then come back grinning like a madman” TP offered you examples with a glimmer in his eyes “It only clicked when we were inverting, and I asked him about you” the blush on your cheeks deepened under his taxing gaze “Suddenly all of that made sense if you were in Estonia with us” he shrugged, finishing the thought.

Oh my god. While you experienced it all firsthand during those chaotic yet hopeful days in the safehouse when everything seemed to have infinite potential, hearing about it from someone else’s perspective felt strange. Almost like a slap in the face. Because it only confirmed what you knew – he once loved you. Once.

“Well, it seems like he has changed his mind…” you muttered, feeling the resentment settle in.

You wondered whether one day it would stop hurting. If you could ever get over this and find someone else. That darkest part of your brain knew the answer well enough. Nothing could come close. And nothing ever would.

“Or he’s just an idiot” the cheeriness felt forced.

But judging by the way TP was staring at you, you could tell it was his attempt at dispersing the sudden melancholy. It was strange to see him worried about you of all people. Perhaps your shit attempts at diverting everyone’s attention from your declining mentality were failing. And that was a reason to be concerned.

“That too,” plastering on an unconvincing smile, you stifled a yawn.

That caught his attention.

“You should get some rest” upon further thought, he added, “And food,”

The intensity of his look was stifling. You hated being the centre of attention. Especially in moments like this when you felt vulnerable, an object of pity and unease. Stupid, weak, and useless. The sabotaging voice came out in full force, making you want nothing but to curl up in bed and disappear. Not yet, however.

“Yes, sir” you raised your hand in mock salute.

Your face fell when instead of a laugh, you got a frown in response. Oopsie.

“I’m serious” TP seemed to consider something quickly before placing his hand on your forearm, “I’m… I’ve been a little worried about you” he met your eyes with a clear purpose.

Shit. That is exactly what you wanted to avoid. Being seen as pathetic and a burden. Internally, you cursed yourself for not being strong enough. For letting anyone see the cracks. You would not let them see you shatter into pieces.

“I’m doing fine,” mustering the happiest of grins, you tried to mask the urgency.

Please buy the bullshit.

“Are you?” he didn’t. Before your brain could fully arrive at the panic station, his inquisitive expression softened. You held his gaze for a beat, hoping to convey everything. Hoping to convince him to let the conversation go. It worked for TP gave a final taxing look before backing off. You exhaled slowly, relaxing a little. Maybe the worst was over…

“Before we go… there’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about…” TP changed the subject, looking down at the table “The lock. You want to go with him”

It was not exactly a question, yet you knew he expected an answer. That one you could easily give him. It was obvious, even if you have never said it out loud. Up till now.

“Yes... Maybe it is an impulsive and stupid thing to do, but I can’t let him do it alone. I can’t let him get killed” the word felt foreign in your mouth.

As though ‘Neil’ and ‘death’ were two irrelevant concepts that did not fit together even in theory. They could not. You would not allow it. And you were willing to accept the worst of risks to make sure it would not happen. Hell, you would even fight against fate and time to assure that.

“I’d rather avoid that too” TP’s quiet comment made you look up, “He deserves so much more than…” there was something startling in his gaze.

As though he has stopped himself before saying too much. Much more than what? And why was he looking at you like that? Like you were missing something tragic, and his heart was breaking for your loss. You felt like going insane. TP cleared his throat awkwardly, resuming the conversation, not at all fluently:

“I don’t buy the whole ‘what’s happened, happened’. What does that even mean?” the irritation shining through his strange tone was distracting.

“Don’t ask me,” you shrugged, “I like to think there’s a different solution to this. One that doesn’t involve Neil sacrificing himself. And I need to be there with him because if it comes to it… I’d take that bullet for him” you did not know where the honesty came from.

Or why you would admit something that fundamental to TP. His response was just as anticipated – a gasp and widened eyes. Nibbling on your lower lip, you broke the eye contact and chose to stare at the forgotten gun lying on the table. It was the truth, so why did admitting it feel so… radical?

“Are you sure?” when he found his voice again, it was hoarse.

“It’s that kind of love,” you replied, still unable to meet his gaze.

You never expected to reveal yourself like that to TP. Wheeler? Maybe. Even Kat seemed like a probable option, but not the boss himself. And especially not at this stage of his story. Yet he was there, willing to listen, and that was enough. You would deal with the consequences later, in your mind that would undoubtedly rebel against such a display of fragility.

“I don’t want it to sound patronizing… but you’re still young. There might be someone else for you along the line if Neil-” his voice broke through your reverie as you interrupted him with a start.

“I know” finally, you raised your head again, showing the sincerity of expression, “But something tells me it’s him or nothing. Call it fate or insanity” biting back a dry chuckle, you felt a single tear form in the corner of your eye.

That was something you have spent most of the time thinking about. At the start, you desperately wanted to believe that you would get over this. That it was just another disappointment, and like before, eventually you would forget about those blue eyes and maniacal grin. But your heart knew better, constantly reminding you that it was not that simple. That Neil was not someone you just forget. Because how could you?

“Reality?” TP’s eyes were filled with thoughtfulness.

“Perhaps,” you cracked a smile, feeling heaviness in your heart lift by an inch.

Always something. Another yawn ended the delicate moment seconds later, making you scowl in annoyance. What was the point of tiredness when you could not even rest properly? TP laughed at your pained expression and got up:

“Now, you into the kitchen. And try to get some sleep” he offered you a hand which you took and stood up.

“I’ll try” a lie, “Thank you… for checking in and listening” sheepishly, you tried to find any words of gratitude.

“I owed you that after those hours in Oslo, filled with plans, coffees, and awful songs you’d sing to entertain us” the knowing smirk suggested that he did remember what you hoped would be forever forgotten.

MTV in Norwegian. Your knackered brain deciding that singing along to ‘Like a Virgin’ and ABBA was what had to be done to make everyone smile. Mistakes have been made.

“Don’t remind me,” TP laughed as you smacked him on the shoulder.

*** You did not sleep after you bid goodbye to TP. That night too was spent tossing and turning in bed, thinking about how everything could have crumbled so quickly. It has only been weeks since Tallinn. In fact, looking from the linear point of view, it has not even happened yet. The normal you have been enjoying the confusion of those days before Oslo when everything was difficult yet hopeful. Too good to be true, at times. Well, now you knew that those moments never lasted too long.

The next morning you quickly grabbed breakfast and sneaked into the sparring area, hoping to catch a few minutes with the punching bag before the troops would take over space. However, that day it was not meant to be.

You heard the voices as soon as you opened the airlock and entered the large room. It was divided into a few sections, each devoted to a different training exercise. To your advantage, each was also separated with a thin plastic screen. Cautiously, you approached the nearest divider, trying to determine whether your mind was not playing any tricks. After one second, you knew. TP and Neil were having a rather heated conversation on the other side of the screen. A sparring ground was the place you least expected to encounter them. And yet… You wanted to turn away and leave before more damage could be done, but the moment you heard the boss’s voice, you froze on the spot:

“Why are you so hard on her?” TP’s question rung out clear in the highly domed room “The only crime she has committed was falling in love with you. I don’t think that’s worth all that pain you’re inflicting”

There was no doubt as to who he meant. Your heart sank. Oh my god. On one hand, it was encouraging to know someone was fighting for your side and pointing out the unnecessary torture Neil was so keen on. But the fact that they were discussing the nature of your feelings was terrifying. Listening on felt wrong, yet you could not move away.

“It would be better for her if she hadn’t” Neil’s cold tone made your blood turn to ice.

There was something frightening in how distant he sounded. As though he was nothing like the man you fell in love with, only a cold impostor that borrowed his face and voice. He was right.

“Why? You told me that you love-” TP’s voice rose, incredulity tinging every single word.

Neil told him his feelings. You expected that, and it still felt like a punch. You leaned on the wall for support.

“It doesn’t matter what I said” the biting edge to Neil’s voice was new, “Or how I feel. The sooner she gets over it, the better for all of us” he threw it without caution, as though he was done with your bullshit.

With the fact that you were stupid enough to love him. He did not want your love. Never did. The crushing weight on your chest would not give way.

“You’re cruel” TP was surprised, as though he could not believe what he was hearing.

“That’s mercy” Neil was begging for the conversation to be over, “Cruelty would be letting her entertain the idea that we can...” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Christ. All those nights spent wishing for answers, and when they came you wanted to forget you ever heard it. It was foolish to believe anything could ever happen between you.

“But why? Neil, you are in love with her” TP raised his voice yet again, utterly done with whatever the blonde bastard was doing.

You could not care less. Nothing mattered anymore. But you did not expect the very next punch. Or the pain you would feel.

“I’m not” clear-cut rejection; nothing to interpret “I don’t love her. There’s no need to look at me like I’m a monster”

Enough. You heard enough. The pain was as bad as ever as you walked away. Your mind set on one simple thing - tea. Yes, that would solve it.

*** Going to the galley felt as though you were stuck within a dream you could not shake off. Half-aware of your surroundings, you nearly walked into Dominic, whose survival instincts kept him off your path. Muttering apologies, you undid the zip lock and sauntered into the kitchen without a care in the world. With a start, you noticed Kat sat at the table. She gave you a welcoming half-smile as she sipped the tea from the metal cup. Your autopilot stuttered, overwhelmed by the company. Blocking off any attempts at thinking, you followed the muscle memory. Setting the kettle on. Putting teabag into the mug. Earl Grey because it reminded you of those morning kisses in London. No. Wrong memory. You shook your head, waiting for the water to boil. The fridge was too loud, the buzz making thoughts appear. Sighing, you leaned on the counter. Your eyes were burning, the sensation increasing with every single blink. It was alright. So why did it feel like the world was ending?

The kettle switched off. Without sparing a single thought to the reality, you poured the water in, watching with fascination as the teabag floated up. Kat’s spoon let out a clink as she placed it on the edge of the plate. You jumped up, startled. That was enough to break through your carefully woven barrier. The thoughts came rushing in. Neil didn’t love you. Your chest tightened as the next breath came out strained. The air was gone. Your hands shook as you tried to take out the teabag. Fuck. Everything was over. A single gasp was all you could manage before you shattered. The tears fell down your cheeks in a steady stream, blurring everything with tragedy. Choked sobs shook your frame as you desperately tried to hold on. To sanity. To reality. Anything to make the pain go away. But it would not disappear, only getting stronger. As though through the glass, you could hear someone say your name. Voice tinted with worry and urgency. But you did not care. The sobs turned into a howl as you slid down to the floor. The sounds coming from your throat sounded foreign and harsh, tearing at your vocal cords mercilessly. Oh my god. That was the break you always feared. There was no end to tears falling down your cheeks onto the floor and beneath your shirt. Slowly breathing became almost impossible, forcing out those pathetic half sniffles that only made everything worse. You wanted to do something. Anything. To make it stop. To forget. To lose the ability to feel things. Your fingers clawed at nothingness, barely losing against the desire to make all that internal pain physical. By any means necessary. Because then at least you could blame it on something concrete. And not just heartbreak. A word you despised because it sounded weak. Stupid. Easily avoidable for everyone but not you. A lost cause. A failure.

“Hey…” warm fingers gently touched your shoulder.

You raised your head. The pounding headache and lack of oxygen, making everything seem twice as difficult. Kat’s blue eyes bore into yours with concern. You have made quite the show. Self-preservation told you to get up and leave, save yourself some shame. But you would not even know where to go. Or what to do. You did not trust yourself to make reasonable choices.

“Are you alright?” Kat’s voice brought you back to the present moment.

An anchor. Maybe this could work… She was still eyeing you closely, unsure about how to act but wanting to be helpful.

“Mmmm no,” you sent her a broken smile, grateful for the handkerchief she handed, “But it’s okay. Sorry about this. I didn’t mean to-” you gestured vaguely, knowing she would catch on.

Tears were still flowing steady, threatening with dehydration should this continue. But at least the wailing subsided to quiet sobs interrupting your sentence every few words.

“Don’t apologise, we all break sometimes,” Kat squeezed your shoulder, joining you on the floor, “Do you want to talk about it?”

It was tempting. Even if terrifying. But you felt like maybe she could be the listener you needed. Someone objective enough, without any ties to Neil or you. Someone safe to confide in that would keep your secrets in safekeeping. But…

“What if someone comes in?” grasping the most idiotic of excuses, you glanced at the airlock with apprehension.

You could just about imagine what would have happened should Neil walk in during your conversation. Your heart would not take it.

“We’ll just tell them to leave,” Kat’s cheeky tone made you turn to her, “I think they’re all a little afraid of me for some reason,” she added, with a small smirk.

She crossed her long legs and sat next to you with both your backs supported by the cupboard doors.

“As they should be,” you replied, feeling strangely at ease, considering everything.

That spark in her eyes was worth the stress over being too forward for someone you barely knew.

“So…” she nudged you with her shoulder as further encouragement.

There was no more escaping it. You took a deep breath, urging your heart to stay strong. Words started spilling out without sense or order.

“Is just... the world is potentially ending in a few days, and here I am crying over the fact that someone doesn’t love me” your throat contracted upon the word as though it was forbidden “I should’ve known better. He never could want someone like me because why would he” more tears as you realised the ultimate truth “I’m not extraordinary. It all feels so stupid, pathetic. But I can’t get over it because I still love him. And I don’t know how to stop” you finished the rant on a sob that forced you to cover your face with your hands.

There it was. Out in the open. You wondered how you could have ever been naïve enough to think your feelings could be reciprocated. For him, it was just a crush. Amplified by the troubles you had to face and the recent difficulties. Nothing more. You were conveniently there when he needed someone to lean on. But if it came to it, he would never choose you.

“It’s about Neil, isn’t it?” something in her voice made you meet her gaze.

You were that obvious, huh? A panicked thought convinced you that everyone on the bloody ship knew about your weakness for the blonde bastard. Yes, even that mess sergeant that always gave you a sorry smile when you approached the counter at mealtimes. Before you could spiral down another wretched rabbit hole, you asked the most innocent of questions:

“How do you know?”

There was no point in trying to convince Kat she got it wrong. She seemed to consider something for a moment before she looked at you with newly found resilience:

“Let me tell you a story,”

You quirked your eyebrow, confused and intrigued. Might as well… Nodding at her silent question, you rested your head against the cupboard. Dried tears tinged your chapped lips with salt.

“When we were in Oslo, staying in a hotel for two nights, TP went out, and Neil stayed with me” she set up the scene with a neutral tone, “We talked a lot about everything really. He asked me about Andrei...” you glanced at Kat, noticing a passing grimace, “Normally I would shut off, but there was that calm curiosity about him, and I didn’t mind saying too much” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

You knew the feeling well, always telling Neil too much because he was such an excellent listener. Confiding even the darkest of secrets and thoughts never felt like anything significant when he reacted with that same confidence and acceptance. That was one of the reasons why the fall was unavoidable.

“Neil has that sort of effect on people,” you returned her smile, shrugging slightly.

Kat patted your hand gently, noting the look on your face. The infatuation and yearning you could not get rid of whenever you did as much as spare a thought towards him.

“I can tell... the point is that he mentioned you, as well” your eyes widened as she paused, “His friend, as he referred to you but not without stumbling over the word a little” she grinned upon your struck expression, “He told me about your role in this. That you’re an asset, excellent sharpshooter, brave as hell and equally reckless at times” my god

You blushed, feeling Kat’s taxing gaze. Friend? Suppose that’s one way of introducing you to people. It was fascinating to know that even after the mess of Tallinn, Neil valued your contributions to the mission. That he would mention you to anyone. Favourably, at that.

“Sounds about right,” frowning, you pondered the implications of her words, “So you knew who I was that morning on the bridge?” the sudden realisation felt refreshing.

That explained her looks directed at you and Neil back then. The visible consternation about the matter of your relationship.

“Yes, it clicked pretty quickly” upon your perplexed gaze, she picked up the story, “I could tell that there was more underneath all the praise. There was that longing in his eyes and a spark that lit up only for you,” Kat added, smiling as you gasped, “I asked whether love was allowed in your line of business” there was boldness in her eyes that made your heart clench. Something important was coming, “He said yes, but it’s dangerous and best avoided. Only that’s not always possible. Sometimes it gets you, and before you realise you can’t breathe another word without missing that one essential person. Your heart doesn’t belong to you anymore, and nothing can be done” oh my god.

You stared at the floor as her words sunk in. It felt surreal, as though you have wandered into a dream. A good one. But dreams could only last so long… Shaking off the haze, you glanced at the woman sat next to you. She was observing you with an enigmatic smirk gracing her features.

“He said that?” your voice came out raspy.

Just a clarification. In case you have misunderstood. But Kat was not surprised.

“Yes,” she nodded, that same sympathetic expression on her face, “Considering what I’ve seen with you and him... there’s only one person he could’ve meant” your heart dropped, as though unused to the idea “I understood it that morning on the bridge when despite the awkwardness, he was willing to defy everyone else for your sake”

Your mind wandered back. Neil’s constant presence by your side, his hand touching the small of your back and then staying there for longer than necessary. His support and trust placed in your hands without hesitation. Right now, even something that insignificant felt unattainable. But it did happen. Could it be that he meant you? Unable to withstand the whirlwind of emotions, you stood up. Pacing in the tiny room, a protest came up, spilling out of your mouth:

“But I just heard him tell TP that he doesn’t love me” you swallowed hard as the reminder of the reality hit.

It was one thing to know it. Another to put it into words once again. You felt like screaming, demanding answers from the main culprit of this whole mess. But it was too dangerous. Another heartbreak could be lethal in its consequences.

“Sometimes we lie to ourselves to save the pain” the quiet certainty of Kat’s voice kept you grounded.

It felt risky to believe that he was pushing you away out of fear. But what if… No. You met her inquisitive gaze, hoping to convey the confusion and desperation. She must have understood for she added:

“He’s still coming to check up on me every evening, and the last two days he’s been a little… strange” the meaningful pause felt like bait.

One that you did not hesitate to take.

“How do you mean?” stopping mindless trotting, you sat down on the stool.

“Quiet, wistful, as though something was troubling him, threatening to spill out if he wasn’t too careful” a long taxing look; it sounded familiar, “Trust me, I don’t mean to give you false hope, I just thought you should know that before deciding on any further action” Kat got up and approached you.

Placing a hand on your shoulder, she squeezed it. You felt immensely grateful. Even if a little speechless… Because all of that was a lot to take in. You desperately needed a long afternoon spent in bed, staring at the ceiling and processing the eventful morning. Was it still morning?

“It means a lot, I’m not sure how I could repay you” finding the words again, you gave her a helpless smile.

“Just try to be happy. And don’t give up on things that seem too good to be true. Sometimes those are most worth keeping around” the depth of melancholy in her eyes was startling, “What will you do now?” the tentative tone assured you of the intent behind the question.

It was Kat’s way of saying: don’t do anything stupid. You could not promise that to anyone. The wounds were too fresh; emotions barely kept under control. Anything could happen. But you did not want to alarm her.

“I’m not sure. Think, probably” an unconvincing nonchalance had to do, as unprecedented honesty took voice “But I’m beginning to realise that if I won’t be able to… have him… I’ll just let him be. He deserves the best more than anybody else” you finished the thought and met her eyes.

A passing shock you found there was intriguing. As though your words reminded her of something, and she needed an additional moment to recover. God knows what sort of secrets everybody held on this god-forsaken ship… If the weight of the past and the unsaid could sink boats, it would have been long over. For everyone.

*** You thanked the gods (and Ives) for letting the topic of the lock wait out a little longer. Instead, the next morning’s meeting concerned the splinter unit, the who, and the how. As a result for once, no voice has been raised throughout the two hours spent on the bridge. Nothing much has been decided, but you did not mind. The burden of the last few days rested on your shoulders, preventing sleep or any form of relaxation. The word ‘tired’ did not even begin to describe it. But duties had to be put ahead of any personal issues and so you took part in the confab as usual. Seeing Neil after everything felt like a stab straight in the heart. His silence and the complete lack of acknowledgment of your existence were the added twist of the hilt.

The moment the meeting was over, you bolted out of the door in desperate need of fresh air. It was bound to rain later as the entire deck was covered in strange puddles that formed out of nothing. Perks of inversion and all that. Lost in thoughts concerning the locks, blonde bastards, and the torture of love as a concept and a feeling, you forgot about the golden rule of inverted rainfalls in the making – caution upon stepping on the wet surfaces. Turning around the corner, your foot slipped. Fuck. All you could do was flail your hands helplessly while praying that the fall will not be painful and that it will not detach the oxygen tank. Suffocation was not the death of your choice.

Suddenly the fall was interrupted with a strong grip on your waist. Hands pulling you upright, back to standing. The hold felt familiar. And forbidden. Turning to face the saviour, you were struck by the sight of the blue eyes that haunted your every waking hour. Every dream too. He was close, with hands wrapped around your waist securely. Somehow this felt worse than the fall. You half expected Neil to let go any second now, step away and yell at you for being clumsy. Or maybe just for existing. But he was still there. One of his hands slipped down onto your hip. Speechless, you kept on gazing into his eyes, trying to understand what was going on. All you could see was increasing the confusion. Desire. The boundless depths were drawing you in. Neil pulled you closer. Something in his face made you believe that if it was not for the oxygen masks, he would have kissed you. His gaze roamed across your features, intense, relentless, as though he could never have enough of you. It felt like being stripped bare, left exposed and vulnerable. Despite trying, you were unable to put up a guard, showing him all that he was not supposed to know instead. Everything you tried to hide and deny, bury deep inside so it could be forgotten. Well not anymore… Whatever Neil saw in your eyes woke him up. You noticed a passing frown, replaced with increasing shock. And then horror. What the hell. Before you could even process what happened, he let go and took a hasty step back. He looked sick, pale with fear and panic. Then, just as you tried to find any relevant words, Neil spoke:

“Be more careful next time,” cold and curt as though nothing happened.

He walked off briskly, disappearing into the darkness of the training grounds. What the fuck? A single drop flew up from the deck, splashing onto your chin. The rain has begun. You felt strange. Suddenly mourning the fact that you have been saved from suffocation. It would have been simpler. Less painful. Less terrifying.

*** No matter the hours passing by, or the thousands of different grounding techniques you have attempted, nothing was helping. Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, you wanted a multitude of things. To get blackout drunk in the hope of forgetting this morning ever happened. (You checked the galley, utterly disappointed to have found nothing with the necessary voltage). You wanted to talk to someone, briefly considering visiting Kat further down the corridor. But that would have meant being even more vulnerable. And a burden. So nope. At one point, you once again considered marching outside without the mask, letting the inverted lung membranes and fucked up rain do the rest. But you did not want to end the life itself. That was not all that bad. You liked your job, the various people you have met along the way. It was only that the current predicament was… unbearable. There had to be a different option.

Then mindless pacing replaced the stillness of lying down. Window, door, and back again. To be repeated for at least an hour. Your thoughts swirling around everything that has been said. Everything that happened. Kat’s story. The look in Neil’s eyes. What if… what if? The unknowns kept multiplying in your head, driving you insane with the extent of what you did not understand. You always hated those moments of suspense. Unsure whether to give up, let go and try to move on, or to keep trying, hoping. Your heart could never process them well without breaking and shattering into millions of pieces. Fuck.

There was one way out of it. One that you tried to push to the back of your head for the few past hours because it was too terrifying. But you were slowly running out of alternatives. One look out of the window told you that you had spent at least six hours like this. It would not do. It was either him or nothing. But you could not survive the insufferable without knowing which one it was. Taking a deep breath, you stopped in the middle of the cabin. This is it. You knew what had to be done. You put on the sweater as though in a trance, making sure to repeat silly affirmations in the quiet of your mind. It had to be alright. If it wasn’t, there were always the seals left…

The walk down the short corridor felt like ascending the steps to the guillotine. Only whatever might happen could be worse than beheading. Your hand shook as you rapped on the door to Neil’s cabin. The sound felt like the worst mistake you ever made. It was too late to turn back. After a very long moment, you heard shuffling inside. When the door opened, you were shocked by a few observations all at once. Neil’s eyes were reddened, hair in absolute disarray. When he realised that you were the intruder, his hands automatically went to smooth the strands in some way. Making even more mess in the process. In any different situation, you would have found that endearing. But your heart was too heavy. You eyed him instantaneously, gaze slipping over the fitting black thermal shirt and the joggers with narrowed cuffs. Not helpful. As you glanced back at his face, you noticed the intensifying confusion. That was the chance to speak…

“Can I come in?” a tentative start to make him more likely to agree.

The shock in his blue eyes slowly changed into careful curiosity. Neil gave you a once-over before opening the door wider and stepping back.

“Of course. Friends are allowed to visit each other” a hint of impatience as though he already had enough.

But that was not the most infuriating bit…

“Friends?” you crossed the threshold and met his eyes with the face of stone, “Sure, that’s one way of looking at what we are” the lack of reaction was inspiring, “Or were” you took a look around his room.

Equally small cabin, littered with a few personal objects. His was phone abandoned on the bedside table, a change of clothes on the floor. A naïve idiot would have taken a moment to consider the fact that maybe he was not as well as you thought. But you were past that, desperate to get answers. A reaction. An end to this madness. With resolve ever-increasing, you sat down on the edge of Neil’s bed, ready for the battle ahead. Meeting his perplexed gaze, you let the penny drop:

“I wonder with how many friends have you been kissing on the bed for two hours” a flash of recognition and then a frown.

As expected. But it still hurt.

That moment from the afternoon before the morning plane to Tallinn was one you often replayed in those desperate hours when nothing seemed to help. You were lying in bed in your room back in London, enjoying each other’s company, exchanging kisses like compliments every few minutes. Sometimes Neil would let his hands become more daring in their caress, causing goosebumps all over your skin. Bringing out sighs and making your heart overflow with love and hope that you finally found what you have been looking for. You felt wanted. You talked a lot about the future, sharing different ridiculous plans for how it could play out. Neil promised to visit your prospective farm with the sheep and dogs. Back then, judging by the look in his eyes, you dared dream that perhaps he would want to be a part of those days still to come. Now, looking at the blonde man awkwardly perching on the chair in front of you, nothing made sense. He stayed for the night then, allowing you to hug him close until the morning. You woke up first, watching him for a few minutes. The steady rise and fall of his chest. Relaxed face with hair sticking up. Calm and content. The warmth spreading from your heart inspired you to press a kiss to his lips as a means of wake up. The sight of Neil sleepy-eyed, peering up at you with a fond smile gracing his features was worth much. Maybe even the current tortures…

Facing him now, you could see the frown deepen.

“Painful memory?” you countered, watching him closely for any hints.

A mask was put on well. But there were flashes of something there. A potential… A possibility of getting burned too.

“In a way,” Neil grimaced, avoiding your piercing gaze.

He was uncomfortable, mindlessly picking on the skin around his nails and tapping his foot. That was the signal to keep on pushing. Until he would be forced to be honest.

“That’s a shame. It’s one of my favourite ones” as he looked up, you offered a deadpan smile, “Just like Oslo,” a shrug complemented with a quick scan of his body, “Though I’m not sure about that… ending,” feigning thoughtfulness you ended the harsh scrutiny.

The point was to back him up against the wall without making him throw you out. That tiny voice at the back of your head told you that he would have done that already if you were not in any way important. That voice was too confident.

“What is your point?” Neil bit back, betraying the level of annoyance you have brought with the innocent reminder.

You knew there was no more skirting around the issue. Now or never.

“Why did you do that earlier? Why did you hold me like...” you trailed off, unable to put into words what it felt like.

Like what? Like a lover. Like someone you actually cared about and not just an irritation. Like someone you could want in your life. But you could never say that to him.

“I was being a gentleman” Neil glanced at you with painfully fake indifference, “Women tend to appreciate that,” a shrug that could not fool you.

Women. The spark of jealousy burned bright. Because what if you were just another distraction. Nothing special. But then the things he said to Kat suggested otherwise. You held onto that thought and squared your shoulders. The game was on.

“...Right,” a sceptical glance in his direction before you continued, “Was that look gentlemanly too? Because last time I checked, gentlemen didn’t tend to look at women as though they wanted to…” trailing off, you awaited the response.

That would mean he took the bait. And the case was not yet lost.

“What?” the lazy tone made you meet Neil’s gaze.

He looked… off. As though before you knocked, he was not exactly fine. It was that nervousness and unkempt appearance that betrayed him. On its own accord, your heart gave out a painful thump, anticipating the fact that Neil too might have been hurting. But why? Ignoring the distraction, you found the needed words and dropped them carelessly.

“Devour them” you held his gaze confidently.

The verb felt right. As though Neil was not trusting his instincts, he looked down, breaking the contact. Putting up further guards. Bingo. He scoffed, throwing in cruelty to the mix:

“And here I was thinking you’re over… this” a vague hand gesture to show what this meant.

You. And him. That something that both was there and was not. Or rather, he wanted it to cease to exist. Only it was not that easy.

“I never said that” putting on the necessary emphasis, you kept on staring at him until he looked up.

Mouth open for another quip. That same steel-blue eyes and clenched jaw. Whatever you have been doing was working. Slowly aggravating him to the point of discomfort. You had to keep the upper hand. Neil seemed to consider something, restlessly fiddling with a pen he picked up from the bedside table. After a beat, he spoke up:

“Why are you here?” weariness in his eyes as he gave out a long exhale.

Easy question… right?

“Because I want answers” it could not be any simpler.

He flinched, letting you see the extent of panic hidden underneath the annoyance and casualness.

“What makes you think I’ve got them?” an arched eyebrow adding the mocking intonation.

The meter of space between you felt like an ocean. He was close enough for you to brush away the strand that has fallen into his eye if you only leaned in. And yet so far that you felt alone, alienated by the cold scrutiny. You had to keep going, tearing at the carefully build up armour hiding him away from you.

“Because you always have words. An abundance of them” you waited till he looked at you again before pressing on “Be it things you probably wish I have forgotten that you have once whispered between kisses” a pause, noticing the boundless unease in the blue eyes “Or all those lovely adjectives you have given me the last couple of days” using the moment of hesitation, you added, “But maybe you were right, and I am stupid, emotional-”

You could give him the whole litany. Your legacy. Exactly how much you were worth in Neil’s eyes. Unless it was a lie…? Before you could begin, Neil raised his hand, interrupting sharply:

“Okay, I get your point” no pride in that frown, almost as though he regretted it, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” the apology took you by surprise.

As did the sudden change in his face. Neil held your gaze with unusual sheepishness. As if even the act of looking at you was dangerous. Tearing the skin from his lower lip, he was the epitome of insecurity. There was no time to falter.

“Everything?” you prodded, mindful of the poker face you had to maintain.

You could not lose him now. Neil hesitated for a short moment before responding:

“Yes,” another second of eye contact, and he got up, impatiently touching the doorknob “If this is all you wanted, then I’d rather be alone-”

No. You leaped up, reaching out before he could finish the sentence. As your hand landed on his forearm, his eyes snapped to you in shock. He was not expecting you to breach the touch barrier. But there was no other choice. With heart hammering in your chest, you felt your throat tighten. Please not now…

“No,” emotions exposed in the tiny voice crack, “Neil, I’m tired of this, of you not making any fucking sense and expecting me to accept it” pleading, you let your fingers wrap around his wrist.

That had to do. Judging by the terror in his eyes, it was already too much. You could feel your resolve waning. Terrified of the consequences if this backfired. Of what you would have to do if he rejected you once and for good. Of the pain you would have to face then. But you had to be brave. He swallowed hard. You wondered what caused the goosebumps on his skin.

“If this is about earlier, then you’re blowing it out of proportion. Be more reasonable” there was a raw edge to his voice that was new.

You were close now. Enough to force Neil to stare at the ground to avoid looking at you. You noticed those dark circles under his eyes. And the tension spilling out in waves. He was scared of you. And that was a horrifying discovery. Your eyes were burning as you begged your heart to hold on. You had to survive this.

“It’s not just that” betraying the nerves, you took a greedy inhale, “It’s what you told Kat in Oslo. It’s how you look at me” following potentially disastrous instincts, you tipped his chin to meet his eye, “It’s all those sudden switches when you seem so cold and calculating and yet so separated from the real you” running out of breath, you could only stare at Neil.

The widened eyes and parted lips told you exactly how shocked he was. You did feel bad for bringing Kat into it. The argument was too strong to let it go. And it worked if his silent panic was anything to go by. He was desperately searching for words, unable to tear his eyes away from yours as though what you said was a binding charm.

“Why do you think you know the real me?” finally, Neil settled upon the question.

One last attempt at making you forgo this madness. Only there was nothing convincing in his delivery. Eyes hazed, showing you fear and uncertainty. A blood droplet on the lower lip where he tore through the skin. Ignoring the most innate of desires to wipe it off, you cupped his cheek. Neil gasped, frozen in the spot. Could it be working? Sliding your hand down, you interlocked your fingers with his. Everything felt surreal. As if you were not a part of the scene. But you had to persist. To finish what you started.

“Because you once told me that you’ve never lied to me. That I’m very important. Your everything, even” your voice broke again on the last sentence as you tightened your hold over Neil’s hand, “And I understand that you could have changed your mind, but…” you hesitated, feeling him shudder.

Oh my god. Your heart broke for the umpteenth time as the fact dawned on you. Neil was shivering slightly as though he was cold. But there was no draft. Nothing to cause it apart from your presence, words, and the physical touch. A choked sob built up in your throat.

“…why are you trembling when all I’m doing is holding your hand? Am I that revolting?” the questions were interrupted by a sniff you could not hold back any longer; there was time for honesty, “The last few days have been awful, making me want to stupid things just to feel something different than heartbreak. I’m not saying that to get your pity, but if I got it all so wrong then tell me now. Because I’m not sure I can survive much longer like this” after finishing the speech, the tears trailed down your cheeks uninvited.

It was all there for him. Nothing to add. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears. For a second, you felt suspended in time, unable to do anything but stare at Neil, who seemed utterly speechless. And then his face fell. Eyes fell shut as he let out a heart-shattering whimper. Tears started falling down his face as you tried to brush them away. You have not seen him that broken since the aftermath of TP’s death. He tugged his hand out of your hold to cover his face, turning away. Christ… The searing pain was back, this time making your heart bleed for Neil. You did not know what to do, powerless and paralyzed with a multitude of thoughts and feelings. After a minute which felt like an eternity, Neil faced you again with red-rimmed eyes and tragedy in his gaze. That was the needed wake-up. Stepping back into action, you placed your hand on his chest. Just over the beating heart. A gentle encouragement.

“I can’t… I can’t tell you that it’s over because I still…” the breathless words tinged with panic and struggle as he fought for every gust of air, “I can’t keep on…” another sob, shaking his whole body “You’re…” a sharp intake followed by instant defeat.

Immeasurable anguish in Neil’s eyes was another reason to find the strength you did not know you had. Maybe it was worth it.

“What? I’m here with you and willing to listen. To do anything but please just make me understand” holding back more tears, you made sure he saw the determination painted on your face.

Slowly you were coming to terms with the reality. You would do anything for him. Anything he asked.

“I don’t know how to…” Neil trailed off, looking for answers all over the floor and ceiling, “I’m tired of having to pretend when you’re all I…” a moment of hesitation as his eyes widened.

He did not intend to say that much. You’re all I… what? Before you could find ways of pressing on, he turned away again and sat down on the bed. A frown etched deep into his forehead. Eyebrows furrowed. Eyes glistening with unshed tears. This was bad. Awkwardly, you shifted from one foot to another. Words were escaping you both.

“Then don’t. I won’t bite” your useless quip was received with an ill-disguised dry chuckle, “Call it naïve, but I don’t think it’s anything we can’t fix if we…” shit.

You knew what was there on the tip of your tongue. It was too early. Fuck knows if he even… But he had to. There was no other force in the universe that could cause this much pain.

“If what?” Neil caught your mistake with strange emotion in his eyes.

As though he wanted you to spell it out. You could not give in. Some words had the potential to destroy, and it was too fragile. A freshly opened wound you still had to mend somehow.

“Don’t make me say it again” a whisper to make him understand your actions.

After a beat, Neil nodded. He seemed exhausted, slouching and staring at the floor unseeingly. That feeling of helplessness threatened to come back with force as you were running out of ideas to make it work. To get him back somehow. Then his voice broke the tense silence:

“Christ…” a long exhale before he looked at you again, “I don’t even know where to begin, but…” resignation passed through his face.

You felt a strange spark of hope flicker in the depths of your heart. It did not look like rejection. It did not look like anything you have ever experienced, and yet it made so much sense. Because after everything you have been through, there was no way this could be easy. Kindling that building fire, you cautiously took a step forward, maintaining the eye contact:

“Yes?” the most neutral of tones, holding the emotions at bay.

Everything not to scare him off. You made it so close. You could give up now. A hint of a sad smile upon Neil’s lips was encouraging…

“Come closer. I want to…” he reached out a hand you gladly took, letting him pull you nearer.

It did not matter what he wanted. Only that you could give it to him. Anything. Everything. Upon the sudden surge of courage, you covered the remaining inches of space and straddled his lap in one smooth movement. Another gasp as Neil glanced at you with obvious amazement. Then, as though he worried that even this was too much, he looked down at where his hands tentatively settled on your hips. This position was familiar. And yet, you felt different, unable to make sense of the myriad of emotions and thoughts occupying your mind. All that mattered was Neil. His hesitant but intimate hold. The hair falling into his eyes. Shallow breaths escaping through the parted lips.

“It’s alright, look at me,” gently you lifted his chin so that you could meet his gaze.

Blue eyes full of longing. For you. Exhaling sharply, you knew well enough what to do. You wound your hands around his waist, drawing him into a tight embrace. That too felt natural. After a second, Neil relaxed, melting into your hug as if that was exactly what was missing. At that moment, with head resting in the crook of his neck, at last feeling as though there was a point in all this, your eyes welled up. No matter the suffering, this had to be it. Your everything. Neil breathed you in, warm puffs of air causing shivers all over your body. There was no point in pretending.

“Please come back to me,” you whispered against his skin, letting tears trail onto his shirt.

Neil tightened his hold, hands roaming over your back, pulling you even closer. All it took was a kiss he pressed onto the exposed skin of your collarbone to make you tremble.

“I never left,” the hesitancy told you he did not believe it either.

“You did. But maybe… I’ll do anything to have you back” the urgency in your voice causing Neil to lean back.

He wiped the stray tears from your cheeks, taking an additional moment to caress your neck with tenderness. You could only lean into his touch, feeling as though whatever might happen has already been decided. There was no way you could let this go. Neil seemed to consider something quickly before he spoke:

“All those words… they fail me when I’m trying to explain what I was doing” his voice was raspy with the weight of emotions, “Or why. Because I’m scared of making it come true. It’s as if once I say it… it might…” he paused, searching for words in your eyes.

“Become real?” you offered, running your fingers through his unruly hair.

You were right. It was all an act. The elation was restrained by worry and love. It didn’t matter.

“Yeah…” Neil swallowed hard, “And then there’s all this mess in my head… The thoughts that just won’t shut up. I’m so fucking tired of… of-” the familiarity of his words causing another flash of pain within your heart “I can’t ask you to-” he cut himself off as though the idea was unspeakable.

You caught a sight of something darker within his gaze. They always said that actions speak louder than words…

“Neil, I said I’ll do anything. I mean it. What do you need?” you met his panicked eyes with resilience.

It took him a longer minute to stop staring at you. To wake up. And then, as simple as it can be:

“You. I need you,” touching his forehead to yours his breath ghosted your lips, “But after everything I did, I wouldn’t expect you to want me… like that” the depth of remorse was heart-breaking.

You already knew what the answer would be. Nothing else mattered. Regrets, worries, and fears had to be abandoned for the sake of this.

“The trouble with the heart is that it doesn’t care what you’ve done. Only that this is you,” smiling lightly, you cupped his cheek, “Just… kiss me. Like you mean it. Like you could love me. And then we’ll see if we can make it work,” unsure where the words came from, you faltered.

But before any vicious doubts could step in, Neil closed the gap. His lips slowly glided over yours, reminding you what it felt like. It did not take much persuading for you to open your mouth, deepening the kiss. It felt like coming home after a long time away. Like that first step over the threshold when one is unsure what they will find. Only to realise that everything is in the right place. That they should have never left. You tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him even closer. He groaned upon the sensation, teeth grazing over your bottom lip. A sigh escaped your throat as Neil’s hands ventured underneath the sweater. For the first time in a while, everything made sense. You tugged at his shirt just for the sake of it as a means of showing him how wrong he was. You wanted him more than before if that was possible. The kiss consuming you both with its intensity and force. Your tongues participating in their dance, brushing against each other, increasing the intimacy of the moment. It finally felt right. Slow, unhurried, but desperate. Unforgettable.

You did not even know when it ended. One moment you were willing to give up breath if only to make it last longer. The next Neil had you pinned to the bed, breathless and shocked. When you met his gaze, the depth of expression told you what it meant. Finally.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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nitewrighter · 3 years

Note

Does Hanzo ever find out what Genji went through/what he was like during Blackwatch? If so, how does he react?

I think he does eventually, like... Genji lets him know that he was in a very difficult physical and emotional place with Blackwatch, and Hanzo’s able to pick up from Mercy that “Okay no, I don’t think you understand, it was really bad”--but she’s also fairly light on the details mostly for Genji’s sake like “Hey, I’m not going to tell you any more than Genji was comfortable with telling you.” And Zenyatta hangs back for the same reasons, and also he wasn’t there so he doesn’t want to distort the details from what Genji’s told him. So the one person Hanzo can actually get the full story from... is McCree.

Also this fic references the first meeting fic so yeah!

----

“Well?” Hanzo had one elbow resting on the bar. Music was faintly playing but it blended in with the humming murmur of the other patrons. Snowflakes were buffeting the glass of the windowpanes just outside and both of them had shrugged off their heavier coats. The bar itself had a homey, lived-in quality to it. Not dirty, but with a definite age to it that seemed to lend a further brightness to the bodies gliding through it and chatting. The icy Andean wind had heightened the redness of Hanzo’s nose and cheeks well before any alcohol had. It contrasted against the cold discernment of his dark brown eyes.

“I’m gonna answer your question with a question--” McCree started.

“Which isn’t an answer--”

McCree leaned back in his bar seat, folding his arms across himself. He almost looked sagely. “Are you asking this because you genuinely think it will help you get a gauge on your shit and move forward, or are you freaking out because things are going more okay than you think you deserve and feel a need to kick yourself square in the Rocky Mountain oysters?”

“Rocky Mountain--?”

“It’s this fried--I’m talking about--” McCree sighed and sipped his whiskey, “I’m saying you’re doing... you’re doing really well, Hanzo. You’re touching base with the team, reachin’ out, you seem to be sleeping and eating better, hell, you’re clutch on missions, but now you’re asking about this, and it worries me.”

“Why should it worry you?” Hanzo’s eyes narrowed.

“Because--y’know... I care about you. You’re a part of this team and I care about you... in a..” McCree cleared his throat, “Team-y way. And... you were stuck in a dark lonely place and I ain’t itchin’ to give you the means to go back there. ”

“But you can understand that the fact that I don’t have the full story distresses me more, can you not?” said Hanzo, “As well as the fact that knowing the more the truth of it is obscured with me, the worse I can assume the situation was.”

McCree scratched at his beard, frowning. “Yeah... yeah I can understand it--but I can also understand Mercy and Zen not spillin’ the beans on Genji’s account.”

“Mm...” Hanzo glanced off and sipped his own drink.

McCree twisted his glass slowly, “Then again, sometimes I think Reyes brought me on the team to begin with because I have a pretty high success rate with the whole, ‘Beg forgiveness before asking permission’ rate.”

Ana called you a charmer, the words almost slipped out of Hanzo but he wasn’t sure how they would land, so he held them in. Instead, Hanzo only mildly gestured at the bartender to refill McCree’s glass.

“Don’t think you’re getting it just because you’re gettin’ me drunk. It ain’t exactly a pretty story,” said McCree.

“I’m prepared,” said Hanzo.

McCree studied him a few moments longer, one hand still wrapped around his glass and one corner of his mouth pulled up with indecision before he closed his eyes and exhaled. “All right,” he said, “If only to keep you from kicking your own ass over what you don’t know.”

“I want you to start at the beginning,” said Hanzo, his stare steady.

“Well t’be fair, Blackwatch was casin’ Hanamura for months, even before your old man passed--er---my condolences--”

Hanzo snorted a little. “It’s... fine,” he said a bit awkwardly. He was more disarmed than really upset at the idea that McCree may have been far better versed in the activities of the Shimada Clan than he had really anticipated.

“Gérard, that is, our UN Attaché, had this whole thing about ‘pulling everything out to the light,’---And the fella was good at it. Could sniff out paper trails and track down dirty money like no other. The initial plan was to get Genji on possession charges and drag the whole clan out behind him. Your old man’s passin’--again, condolences--threw the whole schedule off though. And then we received additional intel that the Shimada dragons might be more.... uh... what’s the word for ‘unusual’ but it’s like... more business-y unusual?”

Hanzo shrugged.

“Un... Im... Uhhh.... Anomalous! That’s the word! Might be more anomalous than we thought and ‘warranting further investigation’ or whatever,” McCree seemed to be easing into the story now, plucking up details from debriefings, “SEP and all its affiliates had been more or less shut down post-Crisis, but there were still worries about human experimentation... strange abilities, and the like. And the dragon stories had been floating around your family for decades, but only when things got destabilized did we consider they might be more than stories. Then we got word that the wheels had been set in motion that the clan would kill Genji before we could get our hands on him--Arrest mission became extraction mission, and extraction mission became rescue mission. The time frame was so sudden we had to bring the Doc along because we thought she would be our best chance at saving him--She wasn’t in Blackwatch, you understand. Wasn’t too keen on undermining the Japanese government either. But... it turns out bringing her along was the right choice.”

Hanzo seemed to be maintaining a veneer of calm, but there was an unmistakeable new undercurrent of tension in his movements and expression as he sipped his own drink.

“You know what he looked like when you left him,” said McCree, “Do you really want me to go into the details there?”

“Yes,” said Hanzo.

McCree huffed and took another gulp of whiskey. The burn of alcohol rasped the first few words of his next sentence. “So it was me, Reyes, the Doc, and a handful of Blackwatch extraction medics touching down in Hanamura that night. Apparently the Shimada clan’s forces were decentralized from the castle. We infiltrated the castle grounds. Found a handful of your security already dead. Took out one more... left his body with the others. Didn’t have time to run a full investigation, or lock anything down. Finding Genji was the top priority. And we found him. Three limbs gone. Puddle of his own blood. Looked midway between... someone had dropped him in a garbage disposal but at the same time... not right--just... gone. The limbs were gone. The wounds were too clean but still bleedin’ out.”

Hanzo’s knuckles curled in, white and shaking as he took a steadying breath. “Consumed,” Hanzo said quietly, “The dragon consumed them.”

“I can stop--” McCree started.

“Finish what you start, Cowboy,” Hanzo’s voice was steady.

McCree swallowed. “I’d seen some fucked up shit under Reyes, but this... yeah, it was new. I kind of froze up, not quite scared, but just trying to make sense of it. But then I snapped out of it as the Doc rushed to him first. I had a vantage point in case other castle security showed up. Reyes was at the opening to that big-ass balcony so he could flag down our evac. So uh, what you need to understand here is that we uh... we actually had very little solid intel as to what the Shimada dragons were capable of.”

“...but I had left the scene well before this,” said Hanzo, trying to puzzle out the timeline of his own fleeing the castle grounds.

“Yeah it... wasn’t your dragon we saw,” said McCree, “See, the Doc, she had to do this... staff... defibrillation thing? I didn’t get a good look at it but Genji, he uh...started thrashin’ and this light sprang out of him. Bright green. Never seen anything like it. He was screaming. Next thing I know he’s grabbing Mercy’s neck.”

Hanzo flinched with some alertness. “What?”

“I mean--first instinct, I’m saying to Reyes, ‘Boss, I got a shot’--like, I know the mission was asset acquisition, but light show or not I wasn’t about to let him kill Angela, but then she hollers out ‘Don’t shoot him!’ And I’m stuck there looking to Reyes like, ‘You’re gonna override that, right?’ And... and Reyes was so calm... I--I could see him doing the math. Breaking people down to resources... breaking their deaths down to trade-offs...”

“You... thought you had to shoot Genji--” Hanzo’s brow was crinkling.

“If Reyes gave me the word,” McCree shrugged, then itched at the brim of his hat, “I never thought someone would hesitate on saving the doc like he was doing right there, though. But.... then she said something to Genji. Never asked what it was, but it seemed to calm him down before he passed out.”

“And you’re saying he grabbed her neck when they first met,” Hanzo’s eyes were narrowed, “But they’re...”

“Well, he was only half-conscious and in this full-on survival mode and she had just... jammed a huge amount of biotic-whatever into his chest. He didn’t know if she was helping or trying to... y’know it was like those times you nearly punched me in the face when I was trying to wake you up from those night terrors.”

“I’m sorry for that,” said Hanzo.

“Psh. If I had a nickel for every time someone took a swing at me out of some kind of traumatic reflex...” he smiled to try and make this seem more lighthearted than it actually was, but Hanzo seemed to still be processing everything, so McCree cleared his throat. “Word of advice, though, don’t make any ‘I guess you’re into that’ jokes with the doc,” he said with a nervous laugh, “No it uh... it took them both a while. I mean, there was this thing there, definitely, but yeah, they were both neck-deep in a whole bunch of shit for a while before they really acknowledged anything.”

“Did Genji take a swing at you?” asked Hanzo.

“Not outside of a Blackwatch sparring ring,” said McCree, “But Jesus, he was scary on the training floor. Still is, sometimes.” McCree paused for a few seconds. “He was obsessed with killing you, y’know. Taking down the whole clan and killing you. Every mission where he got a sniff of you, every mission he thought you might be there and you weren’t, he’d come back snarling.”

Hanzo blinked a few times and glanced down. He knew it made sense, given the idea of justice their family had ingrained in them, but there was still an odd sting to the idea. But I’m his brother, he thought, but then he thought, But that didn’t stop me.

McCree seemed to take Hanzo’s silence as permission to go on. “ I’d try to distract him... try to get his head out of his ass sometimes, but a lot of the time... you see any living thing in a state like that, all you can do is give it space. Genji did give us a decent amount of intel on the Shimada clan’s bigger operations... but when it came to actually getting in there... he was always the first one on the ground. As you can imagine, it was personal for him. There were a handful of bullshit ‘stakeouts’ in Japan where Genji would ditch me... I knew Reyes wasn’t telling me the whole story, then again, it wasn’t my job to know the whole story.” McCree sipped his drink. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t know what he was doing, though.”

“...killing heads of the clan,” Hanzo said quietly.

“Can’t exactly confirm or deny that but... yeah,” said McCree. A prickle of alarm seemed to go through him. “Look, I don’t want to kick off any more brother-killing fuckery--”

“You’re not, Jesse,” Hanzo’s voice was subdued, “I was the right hand of the clan... and the destruction wrought by Genji was, if anything, a product of my own actions.”

“Also his actions--He was fucking nightmare--I mean I liked him, but he was a fucking nightmare, sometimes. Lashed out--like... you didn’t really think of him as giving a shit about you with all that seething over the Shimada clan--- but then he’d know how to say something that hurts, and he knows exactly how it hurts, and you wouldn’t know if he learned how to hurt that bad from your family or just because he was hurtin’ that bad and---” McCree seemed to catch the alarmed look in Hanzo’s eyes, then took a steadying breath before sipping his drink again, “Look... this stuff... it’s all in the past. And he is a lot better now. And he is one of my best friends. Kind of wild how someone who hurt you that deeply can be a best friend like that, but... that’s kind of how life works. Kind of how this shit works when you don’t know if you’re coming back from that next mission. We’re all fucked up here. It’s about learning to take the fucked up parts of yourself and trying to make it into something that helps the people that mean something to you. ”

“The people that mean something to me...” Hanzo repeated quietly. He remembered McCree’s words from his second night on the watchpoint. ‘We’re all just background noise to you. You’re just here so you can stop kicking your own ass after Genji.’ Then he remembered Genji’s words. ‘Well... you’ve been traveling the world for a decade... has there... been anyone? Anyone special? Anyone you loved?’

“...I feel like I’ve let that part of me atrophy,” Hanzo said quietly. Answering Genji’s question, not McCree’s words.

“Atrophy?” McCree repeated.

“When you don’t use a muscle for a long time and... it ceases to be able to functi--”

“I know what ‘Atrophy’ means--” McCree wasn’t making eye contact, “You let... caring about other people... atrophy,” he parsed, trying to trace out Hanzo’s thought process.

“Mm,” Hanzo took a sip of his own drink, “So while I was wandering in grief, Genji was consumed by pain and rage.”

“Which... he’s told you,” said McCree.

“Well, yes, but he didn’t go into details,” said Hanzo, “I know, this might be difficult or painful to talk about, but I really do appreciate getting a more complete picture of what happened to him after my actions.”

McCree tilted his own glass back and forth on the bar counter, letting the whiskey rock around the interior.“I know, but...don’t heap all this on yourself. Reyes always said he wanted the cockroach motherfuckers, and he was more than happy to let Genji snap and swear and lash out and burn the house down because that suited Blackwatch’s agenda better than, I dunno, therapy? Only when we got benched after the Venice incident did he yank in Genji’s leash, because hey, it turned out having a PTSD cyborg tearin’ around the base cussin’ people out wasn’t a good look for Blackwatch.”

Hanzo huffed a little. There was an odd comfort in that. But then he paused, running over the course of McCree’s words in his mind. “...you keep bringing up Reyes,” Hanzo said, fixing his eyes on McCree.

“Sorry--I--I know this should be about Genji,” said McCree.

“No it... it gives some perspective,” said Hanzo, “You trusted Reyes, didn’t you?”

McCree’s mouth tightened for a few seconds before he drew in a short breath through his nostrils. “Yeah... yeah, I did. He just... I mean I’d keep telling myself I was my own person, that I did things with my own style, but so did he. So like... whether it’s ‘your own style’ from fuckin’ Santa Fe or Los Angeles... is there really that much of a difference? If you still picture yourself in their boots, give or take a decade or so?”

“Hm,” Hanzo was thoughtful at this, “I imagined myself in my father’s position so long that when everything came apart and I found myself wandering the world, dodging the clan’s assassins I felt... like a stranger.”

“Kind of liked being a stranger,” said McCree with slight shrug, “Stranger’s from nowhere. Got nothing to prove.... guess it probably hits different if you got a whole... magical crime lord prince destiny thing, huh?”

“The dragon is not magical,” said Hanzo flatly, but a smile was tugging at his lips.

“Debatable,” said McCree, “First of all: It’s a dragon.”

Hanzo snorted and a quiet pause passed between them. Not uncomfortable, but definitely tired, letting McCree’s words and all the pain and memory that came with them drift and dissipate into the warm air of the bar.

“...I could tell you more if you want,” said McCree, after a few beats. “I do have funnier stories... wasn’t all... ‘he was fucked up.’ And--Genji did seem to be getting better-ish towards the end there, once they put him on Tracer’s strike team... but by then Overwatch itself was coming apart.” He snorted. “I guess that’s kind of a running theme with this stuff.”

“I appreciate the offer,” said Hanzo with a slight chuckle. He paused. “Tracer’s strike team?”

“Well, she and Winston probably got more stories there than I do,” said McCree, “And maybe the doc, if it’s in good faith.” He sipped his drink. “You’re welcome to run off to try and ask them about it.”

“I think... this is enough for now,” said Hanzo. After a few beats he said, “You’re not... all background noise to me.”

“What?” said McCree.

“That... you said that on the second night,” said Hanzo, “It’s... it’s not that I don’t value life, or other people--I’m just... it’s been a very long time since I’ve worked with other people, since I’ve talked to other people on a regular basis like this, since I’ve stayed in one place this long, and...” he trailed off, then took a sip of his own drink with some resolve, “I’m afraid,” he said, letting those words sit in the air for a few seconds, “I’m afraid of lending my abilities to another organization that’s used people to hurt other people and then tossed them aside. When your only connection to other people for most of your life was this twisted blood loyalty...” Hanzo trailed off.

“I’m scared of makin’ the same mistakes too, for what it’s worth,” said McCree, “I don’t think fear like that ever goes away.”

“Redemption’s a bitch?” said Hanzo with a slight smile.

McCree broke into chuckles. “You should swear more often. I feel like that’ll help.”

“You’ve sworn plenty for the both of us, tonight,” said Hanzo crisply, sipping his own drink.

“Still, I’m gonna make it a mission to get a ‘fuck’ out of you,” said McCree and Hanzo choked and sputtered. “I didn’t mean it like that! You know what I mean!” McCree was laughing as Hanzo’s attention was split between choking and laughing and desperately looking around for a napkin after spitting his drink. The bartender swooped by with a napkin and the laughs boiled down into chuckles as Hanzo cleaned up a bit. There was another pause then, that same settling of understanding.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said after a few beats.

“You already thanked me--don’t know what’s worth thanking about saying ‘hey your brother was fucked up and so were we.’”

“Honesty. I appreciate honesty.”

McCree smiled and then shrugged.“Hey--y’know, for all the shit I give you,” McCree started and trailed off, “What I said that night about... all of us being background noise... I know that.. that wasn’t really fair. You really didn’t know any of us and, y’know, as far as the general public is concerned, we’re a whole bunch of mercenary weirdoes doing vigilante shit.”

“And Genji was the only person here I knew, and was really...” Hanzo sighed, “I suppose, I fixed him in my mind to be my last chance at humanity--and made myself out to be a monster to all of you in pursuing that.”

“Well... you’re doing better, I can tell you that much. And... y’know folks are warming up to you.”

“Except Angela,” said Hanzo, with a weary smile.

“She needs time on that... I wouldn’t try to force it,” said McCree, “Baby steps and all that.”

Hanzo huffed a little.

“Hey,” McCree lifted his glass, “To baby steps and runnin’ the hell away from all our old role models.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo clinked his glass against Genji’s. Both sipped their drinks and another pause passed over them. Hanzo felt McCree’s eyes on him and looked over at him.l

“Hey just so we’re clear,” McCree’s chin was in his hand, “I didn’t accidentally kick off some huge new bloody vengeance thing by telling you all this, right?”

“You did not,” said Hanzo with a wry smile.

“Oh thank god.”

#mchanzo #gency

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the-modernmary · 4 years

Text

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (ch. 4)

Chapter summary: The BAU makes it's plan to get inside your law firm, and you reflect on your previous relationship with Aaron — the good and the bad.

A/N: i'm baaaaack! this is a little bit of a filler with a hell of a lot of introspection + background on the past relationship with hotch

masterlist || read on ao3

'Cause the love that you gave that we made

Wasn't able to make it enough for you

To be open wide, no

-Alanis Morissette, “You Oughta Know”

~~~~~~~

The plan was simple enough. They had a warrant to bug the office, but lawyers are naturally suspicious, so they needed somebody who already had a rapport with partners to place the bugs. That’s where you came in. They were going to give you pens and other random office supplies with covert listening devices in them, and you just needed to leave them around. You were also going to wear an earpiece so that they could talk you through it every step of the way. Easy enough.

Aaron stood at the front of the room, his hands resting on his hips and his face stone cold. You had seen Aaron on television a few times when he had to speak to the media, but that was the extent of your knowledge of his FBI persona. You had never given much thought to his work life, and the only times he even talked about it was in passing. Watching him completely command the attention of the room was really a site to behold. Suddenly, you understood all of Aaron’s career changes and his unbridled ambition- he was made to be FBI Director.

You nodded slowly as you listened to their plans, trying to ignore the side of your brain that was screaming danger. You looked over at Aaron, hoping that he would understand your unspoken question and would give you an honest answer. When he met your eyes, he gave you a subtle nod, as if to say You’ll be fine, we’ll be right there with you. That was the only confirmation you really needed. Aaron looked so confident that it was almost infectious. Besides, a dead civilian wouldn’t look very good on Aaron’s FBI record, so you had to believe that it really was going to be that simple.

You took a deep breath. “Okay, I can do all that. I’m scheduled to go in this afternoon,” you told the room, avoiding everybody else’s eyes on you. You could tell that some of them weren’t totally sold on the idea yet.

“Good, that gives us just enough time to get everything set up. I want you all to go over the office blueprints with Y/N and set up a concrete plan. I don’t want anything left up to chance. While you do that, I will head down to intelligence with Garcia so that we can grab the coverts and prepare them,” Aaron said firmly, and you found yourself nodding along, as if you were a member of his team.

The way he gave orders was almost hypnotic because it was so different from the way he gave orders during sex. When he was with you, there was always a hint of affection and reverence in every word he said. Here and talking to his coworkers, it was almost paternal, like he was assigning weekly chores. You were getting a more full picture of who Aaron Hotchner was, and it was exciting, if not a little overwhelming.

You were torn from your thoughts at the sound of ruffling papers as Reid spread out the floor plans to the office across the table. The next hour and a half was spent going back and forth with the group of profilers to see what the best course of action was. You let them take the lead considering you had zero experience in this particular field, but you were pleasantly surprised when they asked for your opinions, asking you whether or not anybody ever went in certain areas in the building. Working with them was easy, even with David Rossi clearly psychoanalyzing every move you made, probably trying to figure out how the hell you and Aaron fit together.

After figuring out the best excuses to get in each of the partner’s offices, the team had decided that you were prepped and ready. “You’re welcome to grab some lunch in the cafeteria on the second floor,” Reid told you as the rest of the team was slowly filing out of the conference room. “But the food’s not great, to be honest. The only people who ever really eat there are tourists and kids on field trips.”

You raised an eyebrow at him as you shouldered your purse. “With all that security, the FBI has tour guides?” you asked amusedly.

Reid nodded eagerly as he finished folding up the blueprints. “The FBI has actually had a tour component since 1937, even before it settled here in the Hoover building. After 9/11, they stopped the tours and closed the building to the public and didn’t reopen until 2008 when the FBI made the Education Center. It closed and was redesigned multiple times since then, and now it’s known as the FBI Experience. You have to contact your congressman to request a tour at least four weeks in advance so that the FBI can do a background check,” he said quickly, his hands doing half of the talking for him.

You laughed as the two of you made your way to the door. Aaron had mentioned something about the genius Dr. Reid in passing, and he was just as amusing and endearing as Aaron said he was. “That sounds like a lot of work. If that’s the case, then I might have better luck just asking one of you to give me a tour after this whole thing is done. You sound like you know more than the tour guides anyways.”

Reid stood up a little taller at the compliment, but your focus was immediately drawn to Aaron’s office. Specifically, Aaron, in his office, alone, with the blinds shut and the door wide open. You had promised to be on your best behavior, but the temptation was almost too much. You wanted to see more of Hotch, the FBI agent. “Excuse me for a second, Doctor,” you mumbled, flashing him an innocent smile.

Spencer gave you a small wave as you walked off, headed straight for Aaron’s office, your heels clicking rhythmically on the floor. As if sensing your presence, Aaron’s head shot up the second you stepped into his office, his face void of all emotions. You shut the door slowly behind you, having to hide your smile when you saw him shift in his seat nervously. “Y/N, this isn’t the place-”

You held both of your hands up as you made your way towards his desk. “Don’t worry, Agent. I didn’t come here with the intention to seduce you in front of all your coworkers,” you promised. “Although that can always be arranged.”

You were rewarded with a small grin from Aaron and something that was close to laughter, although it just sounded more like an exhale. “How can I help you?” he asked, unable to mask the lightheartedness in his words.

You sat on the edge of his desk. “Well, I’m going to be rubbing shoulders with a potential serial killer for the rest of the day. Don’t I get a kiss for good luck? Doesn’t even have to be a kiss on the mouth,” you teased. Aaron tensed up. That was the wrong thing to say, apparently. Maybe he remembered that he was at work, and there was no room for playfulness in the FBI. Or maybe he realized that you would be the second woman he’s been with that he’s sending into a dangerous situation.

This was all new territory for the two of you. Previously, there were so many unspoken rules for the relationship, and that’s what made it work. It kept everything easy and fun and none of you had to sift through any baggage.

He didn’t talk about cases he was on and you didn’t mention Jack or Haley- not that you would even want to. He would order dinner for the two of you, but it couldn’t be from anywhere he used to take Haley. So that took away their Chinese place and their pizza place and, God forbid, their Italian place they went to for anniversaries- you preferred Indian anyways. Every once in a while, you’d meet up in hotels that were way too nice and expensive for a fling, but it was always somewhere out of the city, like Baltimore or Fredericksburg, because between the two of you, somebody in DC was bound to recognize one of you.

But there you were, sitting on his desk in the middle of the FBI headquarters, completely thrown off your game. Part of you wondered why he had wanted to continue this thing with you. It wasn’t some midlife crisis- he was too composed for that- and it wasn’t to help heal heartbreak the way it was two years ago. You weren’t complaining about it, though. There was something addictive about Aaron, something that made you think about him even when you hadn’t seen or heard from him in months, and a nagging voice in the back of your head told you that he probably thought the same thing about you. At least, you hoped he did.

You were so entranced in your thoughts that you didn’t even realize he was talking to you. You refocused your eyes and snapped your head back in his direction, where he was looking at you with worry in his eyes. “Hm?” you questioned.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed, like he was trying to read your mind. “I asked if you were sure that you’re ready for this? You all came up with a plan faster than I expected.”

You put on a practiced smile as you slid off his desk, careful not to rustle any of the precariously stacked files next to you. “What can I say, I’m a fast learner. Plus, I went through a major James Bond phase in 7th grade, so this is like a dream come true for me,” you joked, and that seemed to satisfy him.

His face softened, and you once again found yourself fascinated by how much younger he looked when he let himself relax for even half a second. “It’s going to be fine, and I’m going to be talking to you through the earpiece the whole time,” he said. It surprised you just how comforting that single sentiment was, but something about Aaron walking you through the whole process made it less daunting.

Casual flirting with him had worked at the beginning of the conversation, so you decided to try that again. “It’ll be like you’re whispering in my ear all day,” you mused, batting your eyelashes. “That’s kind of sexy, in an exhibitionist kind of way.”

Aaron chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Behave,” he told you firmly, but there was the slightest hint of playfulness.

You made your way towards his office door, throwing a wink his way as you did. “No promises,” you sang. “But I’ll do my best.”

After grabbing something to eat at the cafeteria- Reid was right, the food was terrible- it was time for you to head to the weirdest internship shift you’ve ever had. Most of the team would be in an undercover van outside of the building so that they could listen to everything. You were able to get a ride from Morgan in one of the FBI SUVs, which would drop you off a few blocks away so it didn’t look suspicious. The two of you made some small talk on the way, asking about school and life at the FBI, all very surface level stuff, but nice nonetheless. It helped calm your nerves.

After a while, he pulled over and handed you a bag from the backseat. It was a simple black satchel, not very different from the usual one you would bring to work. “Okay, here is everything you’ll need. You remember the plan, right?”

You nodded quickly as you put in the earpiece, trying to hide any signs of nervousness. “Yup,” you said, popping the ‘P’. “Honestly, this isn’t even the worst thing I’ve done while working.”

Derek chuckled, maybe despite himself. “Remember, we’ll be right outside of the building. Just treat it like a normal day.”

You didn’t think that was even going to be possible, but luckily, you were proven wrong the moment you stepped into the elevator.

“Woah, hold the door for me!”

You stuck your hand out quickly just before the elevator doors closed, and your friend Chris came barreling through. He was a third year when you were a first year at George Washington and the two of you met in your tax law class. You quickly became fast friends, and you met most of your law school friends through him. When he got hired as a staff attorney at the same firm you were interning at, you couldn’t have been more excited.

You clutched the satchel a little tighter, knowing full well that the entire BAU was about to hear this conversation. “Hey,” you said, your voice light.

Chris just raised an eyebrow at you. “Hey?” he asked incredulously. “That’s it? What the hell happened to you last night? We were all supposed to go out and you didn’t show up. No phone call, nothing. And then the only response we got from you was three hours later when you just said ‘Sorry, something came up, next time!’”

You sighed and reached over to press the button for the third floor. It was crazy to think that the interrogation had been less than 24 hours ago- it felt like a lifetime to you. Aaron’s voice came through the earpiece. You can’t tell anybody about the investigation. Make an excuse and change the subject.

“Sorry, mom,” you huffed, staring at the elevator doors. “I got busy, and I’m not attached to my phone all the time like a certain newlywed. How are you and Sam, by the way?” You looked at Chris pointedly with that comment and, like expected, he was frantically shoving his phone back in his pocket. Chris had gotten married two months ago and was still very much in the honeymoon phase.

Good job, Aaron said into the earpiece, and it made you smile despite yourself.

Which, unfortunately, did not go unnoticed by Chris. He narrowed his eyes at you for a few seconds before gasping. “You’re deflecting! And I know that smile.” He thought about it for a second before his eyes went wide. “Oh my god, you ditched us last night because you were getting railed.”

Your friends knew you way too well. You rolled your eyes at Chris. “Wow, that is a reach if I’ve ever seen one.”

The elevator doors opened and you all but sprinted out of there. “You’re not denying it!” Chris accused and you had to bite back a groan of annoyance. You loved your friends, but you did not want to have this conversation right now. “Come on, spill. What is their name?”

You heard Aaron take a sharp intake of breath. You weren’t going to tell Chris, even if you weren’t currently wired where all of Aaron’s coworkers could hear. You never told your friends about Aaron because you were worried about their reaction. They would have worried about his age, or if he was taking advantage of you, or if you were in any danger because of his job. They would have pressured you to pursue more of a “true” relationship with Aaron, and you weren’t going to pretend like that was even a possibility.

You liked Aaron, and it really seemed like Aaron genuinely liked you, too, just not in a way that would make sense to people, especially not your friends. Aaron was always nice to you. He treated you like an equal, not just some random college girl he was sleeping with. He was interesting, and being around him was easy. Aaron would invite you over sometimes and the two of you would just do your work while eating take out before you would have sex. Sometimes, you’d ask him for help with your homework, because there really wasn’t any better tutor, and he was happy to give it. At the time when you first met, the two of you were just kind of lonely, and it was nice to have somebody around who just got it.

You also liked the version of you that Aaron brought out- smarter, wittier, and even a little bit more put together. Definitely much more ambitious. And if seeing him at work was indicative of anything, you thought that he liked the version of himself that you seemed to bring out- more easygoing and playful, like he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

And also, yeah, the sex was really fucking good.

You sped up your steps, but Chris was right at your heels. “You’re such a chismoso, but fine. His first name is nunya, last name business.”

You heard him groan behind you, and you turned around so that you were walking backwards. “Y/N, you suck so bad. This is going in the group chat, and we are going to find out who you’re sleeping with.”

You laughed, finally feeling relaxed and calm for the first time since you heard about this plan. “Mhm, good luck with that,” you called to him. “Now if you don’t mind, I have to get to work. Not all of us get paid to sit around and look pretty.”

“Yeah, you just get college credit for it,” he snorted and you just turned back around. You were sure you were going to get so much shit from your friends later, but the bag on your shoulder was getting heavier every second.

Placing the listening devices was as easy as they told you it was going to be. You were able to go throughout your shift fairly normally, sitting through meetings and writing emails, mostly. If you needed to get into somebody’s office, you would just tell them that they needed to sign something or ask them if they wanted any more coffee. The only times Aaron would say something into the earpiece was if they couldn’t get a signal on the device and you needed to move it slightly.

When it was time for your break, you flipped your phone over in your hands a few times, debating on whether or not you should text Aaron. You wanted to see him again. You wanted to hear him moan in your ear while his hands roamed every inch of you. You desperately wanted his mouth on you, his head in between your thighs. You could imagine Aaron on top of you, brushing your hair from your face, and telling you how pretty you were. Maybe you’d text Aaron later, when he wasn’t in a cramped van.

“Y/N?” You snapped your head up to see a woman you knew to be Julian DuPont’s assistant. DuPont owned the law firm, and he came from a very rich and powerful DC family. He was the whole reason that the FBI couldn’t just sneak in and bug the office themselves- he would be suspicious about anybody he didn’t personally know. Even having been an intern at the law firm for almost an entire year, you had only spoken to him one-on-one a handful of times. Sure, they were all positive experiences, but you knew he could lie to almost anybody.

“Yes?” you asked cautiously.

She gave you a sweet smile. “Mr. DuPont has asked to see you in his office right away.”

Your mouth instantly dried up and your heart started to beat so fast that you would have sworn everybody could hear it. “Uh… Yeah, of course, um… Did he happen to say what it was about?” you stuttered out. He was the first office you had placed the bug in. Maybe he found out and was about to fire you in front of everybody. Or worse, your brain supplied unhelpfully.

The assistant shook her head and guided you wordlessly to DuPont’s office. Stay calm, came Aaron’s voice through the earpiece. I will tell you everything you need to say if you get stuck, but you’ll be fine.

When you got to the office, the assistant close the door behind you, leaving you alone in the office with Mr. DuPont himself. He gave you a warm smile, which should have comforted you, but you didn’t think you had ever seen him smile for anything not related to winning a case or getting money. “Sit, please,” he ordered, gesturing lazily to the chair in front of his desk.

You tried to keep your breathing even as you sat down quickly, rubbing your hands on the tops of your thighs. It felt like you were in the principal’s office. You stayed silent so that he could have the first word.

“As you may know, I’ve been watching your progress very closely, both here and with your professors,” he stated, leaning forwards in his chair. “You’re very intelligent, and I think you have a bright career in front of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said, trying to put as much confidence in your words as possible. There was a ‘but’ coming, you felt it. You could vaguely make out mumbling in your earpiece, like the BAU were trying to profile what Julian was going to say half a second before he said it.

DuPont straightened out a pen on his desk- to be specific, the pen with the listening device in it. Your breath caught in your throat. “I would like to capitalize on that potential and have you work here after you’ve graduated, but I need to see how you do in an actual courtroom. Law students are allowed to practice law under the supervision of an attorney, which would be me. If you do well, and you pass the bar, you’ll have a job here as an associate right after graduation. Think of it as a trial run, or a try-before-you-buy program.”

You let out a sigh of relief, not even caring how dramatic it may have looked to Julian, and you closed your eyes for a second just to ground yourself. He didn’t know, it was just a job offer. The secret was safe. The earpiece went silent again. “Sir- I… Thank you so much. I would love to, of course. It would be an absolute honor.”

DuPont nodded and leaned back in his chair. “That’s good to hear. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend to. We will discuss this more at a later date.”

You shook his hand quickly before exiting, your heart pounding. You were going to need a drink, or five, tonight. Maybe it was stupid, but part of you wanted to hear something from your earpiece. It didn’t even need to be Aaron speaking, but you wanted somebody from the BAU to remind you that everything was okay.

Ignoring the questioning look from Chris, you sat down at your desk, attempting to process everything that just happened. Once the adrenaline went down, you let yourself get excited. A job offer, and a nice one at that, at a fancy private firm with a nice salary. You were set.

You grabbed your phone so that you could send the news to your friends, but a notification caught your eye.

From: Aaron Hotchner

Congratulations, associate. I told you that you’d make a wonderful lawyer someday.

To: Aaron Hotchner

Thank you :) You know this means I’m going to practice my opening statements on you all the time, right??

From: Aaron Hotchner

I’m looking forward to it.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #my best habit #my writing

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19red · 4 years

Text

hello, this is me trying to strong-arm my brain into stopping the constant tweaking and re-tweaking of the same stinking 3k so I can write on and get to the good parts of this project namely p and j having all the sex thank you very much

The day after Patrick and Jonny bang a chick together, Patrick wakes to the weight of an alien limb squashing his bladder. The alien limb belongs to a furnace-hot, tentacular mass plastered all along his back. The mass smells oddly familiar, kind of citrusy—as if it stole Jonny’s body wash.

Patrick squints his eyes open. A blade of sunlight filters through the half-drawn curtains and stabs him in the face. Right under the window, Jonny’s suitcase dribbles clothes onto the floor.

It shouldn’t be hard to put two and two together, but Patrick’s really dumb first thing in the morning. Plus, he needs to pee. Bad. Which is pretty distracting.

He paws at the tentacle swung over his waist, fingers catching on—a beaded string. Did the alien mass steal Jonny’s bracelet too? Patrick struggles to lift his head. He wants to see.

The alien mass stole Jonny’s whole arm. What--?

A growl spills in a damp, ticklish huff into the crook of Patrick’s neck as the mass coils itself closer. Something hard pokes Patrick’s ass. His nostrils fill with a waft of scent his hindbrain understands as so viscerally Jonny that recognition smacks him dizzy.

The mass is Jonny. Last night, he and Patrick banged a chick together. That thing wedged between them, growing firmer by the second? That thing is Jonny’s—

Patrick’s heart plummets straight to his dick.

It’s okay. It’s whatever. Patrick isn’t gonna freak over a physiological response. Bodies are also really dumb first thing in the morning.

“Jonny,” he says, wriggling to catch Jonny’s attention. Jonny has always been his go-to guy in a crisis. Except, in this instance, he is also the crisis itself. Jonny’s hips buck forward once, twice—Patrick stops breathing for the handful of seconds it takes Jonny’s sleep-drenched, horny-ass body to lose interest and stutter back into relative stillness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks. Visions of impending awkwardness swarm his brain. If Jonny were to wake up right now, full-mast boner pressed to Patrick’s ass, and discover the tent pitched in the front of Patrick’s sweats, he might rush to conclusions. Their ability to make direct eye contact would definitely endure permanent damage. They’d have to restructure their life with the aim of reciprocal avoidance. Patrick would have to request a trade. Jonny would probably drop out of the NHL. He’d forsake hockey and society at large and end up trampled to death by a giant moose while he hides from Patrick in the Canadian wilderness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks again. When a whole minute drips away and Jonny doesn’t stir, he thanks the hockey gods. With very little, very slow movements, he dislodges the arm pinning him to the mattress. By the times he’s free, the light slanting in from the window changed the angle of its assault to his pupils. Still careful, he slides the covers off himself, sits up, swings his legs off the bed. His feet land on the floor just as a variation in the pattern of Jonny’s breathing alerts him it’s all been for nothing. Jonny is awake. Or, like, as close to awake as Jonny manages to be coffee-free and before noon. Which is not much, thank fuck.

“It’s early,” Patrick reassures him. Jonny gets real pissy when he doesn’t get his full eight hours. Patrick doesn’t want to get stuck with Captain seriously cranky and his legitimately lethal death glare on the flight back to Chicago.

Jonny hums, lids fluttering open and back closed immediately, dark lashes kissing the top of his cheekbones. Patrick expects him to just roll over and sink back deep into snoring, the man is easy like that, instead he plumps an arm over the empty space next to him and mumbles, “Come back,” so low Patrick feels the vibration of it in his belly more than with his ears. Jonny must think Patrick’s some chick, maybe his ex or the one from last night.

“Dude,” Patrick chuckles to clear his throat. This is prime chirp material. Jonny’s such a clingy loser. “It’s just me.”

The side of Jonny’s mouth that isn’t squashed into the pillow tugs up in a smile, then his eyes tremble open, searching the space in front of them for Patrick’s, as if he knew where to find him, as if he weren’t surprised. It’s a bit like being punched but with weird, devastating gentleness. Patrick’s left breathless and dazed, a slow ache spreading below his ribs. “Sorry,” he says, legs moving on their own accord. “Sorry, gotta piss.”

Jonny flops onto his belly and sprawls across Patrick’s side of the bed. With a sigh, he hugs Patrick’s pillow to his face. “Be quick,” he whines—or maybe not. It’s muffled and Patrick is already halfway out the door so he can’t be sure. It doesn’t really matter.

***

“Where’s Tazer?” Duncs asks in lieu of good morning when Patrick shows up at breakfast almost two hours later, no captain in tow.

Patrick chomps on a hunk of strawberry toast and shrugs. Contrary to popular belief, no clause in his contract bids him constant awareness of Jonny’s whereabouts.

Duncs squints, clearly feeling entitled to a degree of eloquence involving efforts of the verbal variety and resenting their lack.

“Don’t tell me he’s sick,” Shawzy says.

The legs of Stromer’s chair screech against the floor as he scoots away from Patrick. He ends up almost in Brinsky’s lap. “It better not be catching.”

“Oh my god,” Patrick puffs the words fat with annoyance. “He’s sleeping. I mean, I guess he...” He is for sure. No chance Jonny is still waiting. If Patrick barged back into his room right now, Jonny would laugh, would tell him to stop trying to make things weird. Patrick knows this rationally. Yet some spiked grip squeezes his insides with the same vicious strength of an anaconda trying to crush itself a snack.

People can’t die from upset conscience, can they? Especially not if the upset is unquestionably misplaced, right?

“I mean,” Patrick snaps after a second, “the fuck do I know.”

Duncs eyebrows shoot halfway across his forehead.

“Whoa,” Stromer gasps.

“Wait,” Shawzy says. “Are mum and dad fighting?”

Patrick grinds his molars. Everyone’s so fucking pressed. It’s not like Jonny is a regular at team breakfasts. In fact, unless attendance is mandatory, Jonny prefers to limit the number of people upon which he inflicts the ghastly spectacle of his slow de-zombification to a minimum.

Patrick casts his mind back to the last time the two of them didn’t resort to room-service during game trips. He dredges up both no recollection of that happening in years and the stomach-sinking hunch that maybe this is weird. Maybe he should have gone back. Maybe that would have been the normal thing to do.

“Shut up,” he says, to the voice in his head and everyone else. He grabs a pitcher of coffee and fills his cup until it brims. “Don’t talk to me. I’m waking up.”

“He’s rubbed off on you,” Shawzy appraises.

He’s more right than he’d probably care to know—nope. Patrick yanks his thoughts away before they can trip over that precipice and splat into the phantom embrace of Jonny’s body and its heft, its warmth, its neediness.

“Shut up,” he repeats, and with big emphatic motions designed to put a period on the conversation, he whips out his phone. He trusts the mindless scrolling will work its time-warping, mind-numbing magic and when he’ll look up next, all the weird will have been purged from this day.

Between sips of coffee, he pores through the stats for the last game, skims the emails in his inbox and rage-reads a review trashing the new Twilight book. He considers sending the link to Erica so he can vent about the snobby assholes who think they’re smarter than everyone else just because all the books they read are boring as fuck, but she’s probably at work already. He scrolls through his contacts. The one of the chick from last night jumps out. Her name’s Chelsea, which is pretty lucky. She was hot, Patrick recons, and thinking that feels normal. Feels safe. Feels like something Patrick would love to feel more of, thank you very much.

Hi, he types, riding the spur of the moment. This is Patrick from last night.

Stupid and risky, his inner Jonny warns. Never give your number to one night stands. Patrick ignores him and for the sake of clarity and glory, adds, The one who made you see god with his tongue.

“Look who’s joining us,” Shawzy’s voice announces just then.

Patrick’s gaze springs up, landing squarely across Jonny’s chest. Patrick knows it’s Jonny’s chest even though he doesn’t let his gaze climb up to the face attached to it for confirmation. The chest is sailing across the breakfast hall toward Patrick. Well, not toward Patrick specifically. Toward Patrick and the rest of the guys.

“Morning,” Jonny mumbles, dropping his scrambled eggs on the table and his ass between Seabs and Crow.

Patrick’s phone chimes.

well hello patrick 😜

“Slept well?” Shawzy probes, feigning innocence. Patrick’s hackles rise.

“I guess,” Jonny says.

Patrick allows himself another quick glance. Jonny looks good, which means like his usual self, which means nothing like a dude who went through the transformative experience of witnessing his best friend o-face. It’s kind of annoying, actually. Patrick’s nerves are all fried. He’s half-convinced in the right light anybody could look at him and simply—tell. Patrick Kane got off with another dude in the room and enjoyed it. For a blink he’s fourteen and trying to fight a guy almost double his size who called him a cocksucker, that slammed him against the boards and told him not to bother standing up since everyone knows he does his best work from his knees.

His phone chimes again.

“Tell me the truth.”

totally hit me up again next time ur back here

“What?”

Patrick’s heart rate spikes. Would Jonny even be up for it?

Won’t be for the rest of the season :(, he types.

Maybe things feel weird because threeways are a novelty, maybe they just have to work up an immunity. People have threeways all the time and afterward their lives go on undisrupted. But if you’re ever in Chicago… his fingers are so clammy they smudge the screen when he hits send. He reaches for his cup.

“Did you keep our Kaner up all night?”

Patrick’s head jerks up.

“What?” Jonny says, flat.

For the first time since Patrick sneaked out on him, they make direct eye contact.

Shawzy drones on in the background, “Saw you trying to score that hot--”

It last precisely long enough for a sip of coffee to get its lanes mixed as it plunges down Patrick’s throat and somehow u-turn its way out of his body through the nostrils.

Patrick’s lungs try their best to turn inside out.

“Dude,” Shawzy says.

Stromer slaps Patrick’s back a couple of times, hard.

Duncs throws a handful of paper napkins in his general direction and winces in open disgust as Patrick snatches one mid-air and uses it to dab at the liquid leaking out of him. “Gross.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Patrick informs them tartly between fits of coughing. Some treacherous asshole on his right is fucking cackling. He sweeps the table with an encompassing glare and catches Jonny’s eyes again, all dark with concern. The back of Patrick’s neck prickles with embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he repeats, steadier, and Jonny looks away so Patrick does too, hurriedly withdrawing like from the touch of something scalding.

He zeros in on Chelsea’s new message.

might fly in for a couple of weeks around christmas actually

Patrick latches on to the conversation, blocking out his surroundings, trying his hardest to look busy. Fuck everyone and Jonny too.

We could catch up then if you have time ;)

totally 👅🔥🍆🔥, she texts. And after a moment, say hi to porn dick from me btw

Who?

🙄

Patrick bristles. For some reason, the thought of this random stranger sitting around with her head full of pictures of Jonny’s dick makes him hitch. His chest riots with some misguided protective instinct. Jonny would be insufferably smug if he knew, no doubt about it. It’s not that big.

it is! 100% porn worthy

You don’t know what you’re talking about

???

I’m just saying, are chicks even into that? he writes, just to be an asshole but also because he’s pretty sure chicks hate porn. It’s supposed to be a feminism thing. Erica once made him a whole speech about it or whatever.

big dicks? They are

Haha

their also into porn btw this aint the middle ages AND they have way better taste in it then men

Can you prove it? he asks, hoping it sounds flirty and not confrontational. He wants this chick to bang him again but not over the head with a blunt instrument.

maybe if u stop trying to outdick ur bf with ur personality ill send you some recs

“Who are you texting?”

Patrick elbows his cup off the table and scrambles to catch it before it crashes against the floor. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his coffee-soaked hand.

Jonny laughs and at the sound, Patrick’s heart stumbles, then sprints up his throat. “You’re a mess,” Jonny says. He stole Stromer chair.

“Yeah, no, fuck off.”

Stromer is nowhere to be found. He and the rest of the guys must have migrated to the lobby. Patrick picks up the phone from where he abandoned it to make the save and shoves it deep into his pocket just as it pings.

Jonny quirks an eyebrow. He’s smiling.

It feels like Patrick trudged around all morning with a lead rib-cage before the universe caught the glitch. The sudden slack from gravity makes him giddy. “Don’t be nosy.”

“I’m not!” Jonny protests, all put upon outrage. He flicks Patrick on the hand. “Just saying, team’s gonna suffer if you sprain a thumb.”

A laugh bubbles up Patrick’s chest, loud and easy, and just a little embarrassing.

For a moment, Jonny looks impossibly pleased but then he catches himself. “Everything alright, yeah?” he asks, turning bashful. His eyes drift to the small heap of crumbs he’s sweeping together with his pinkie.

Patrick nudges his thumb against the back of Jonny’s hand. “Yeah. You?”

Jonny’s lips curl up at the corners. “Of course,” he says, looking up, gaze dark and soft.

Of course, of course, of course. Jonny would never let anything happen to them. Patrick stomach flutters. “Okay,” he smiles, dimples out, and Jonny beams back. Time goes fuzzy as they stare at each other in silence—until the ping of an incoming text makes them both startle.

“Again?” Jonny bitches. A moment later, his forehead creases and he puts his serious face on, “Everything okay with your sisters?”

“Yeah, no. It’s not--” Jonny’s eyes flicks to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick hadn’t realized he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He stops and it tingles, his own breath turning chilly enough to sting as it laps over the bite. “Just-- the chick from last night,” Patrick’s tongue says forgoing any input from his brain. It’s fine. It’s whatever.

“Oh,” Jonny says.

The world keeps rolling. Unfortunately, so does Patrick’s tongue, “Yeah. She’s cool. She was fun.”

“She was okay.”

Patrick can’t believe the understatement. “Okay? Just that? You’ve got some tough standards, man. She was--” as he searches for the right adjective, it suddenly hits him that Jonny has more experience, at least when it comes to threeways. It’s fucking unfair, but entirely possible, the mind-blowingest sex of Patrick’s life would barely chart as okay for Jonny. While he was dating Lindsay, the two of them got up to some kinky shit, Patrick’s pretty sure. Not that he spent any time thinking about it. He licks his lips. “It was hot, right?”

Jonny scoffs. What an asshole.

“Fuck you.”

“It was hot,” he grants. His cheeks are turning pink. He means it.

It feels like scoring the game-winner in the Stanley Cup final. The rush of triumph makes him cocky. “Hotter than the one you had with Lindsay?”

Jonny scoffs again, to Patrick infinite delight. “It was!” Patrick surmises.

“Lindsay’s hotter than her.”

“No way,” he is so offended on Chelsea’s behalf, he barely registers the deflection. Lindsay dumped Jonny. No matter how she looks, her insides must be rotten. Patrick hates that Jonnys is still hung up on her. He kicks Jonny’s foot to make sure he has his attention. “Maybe we should try again. Chelsea’s coming to Chicago around Christmas.”

“Is she?” Jonny kicks him back. “You two move fast.”

“She’s got family there, I think.”

“Sure,” he sounds skeptical. He admitted it was hot, why wouldn't he want a rematch? He and Patrick and some hot chick, she doesn’t even have to be Chelsea, she can be whoever. Small and blonde, like Jonny likes.

“Or we could find someone else,” Patrick says, growing more committed to the idea each second it lives in his brain. “Just go out and see what happens.”

“You think that’s smart?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I think you’re boring.” He goes in for the kill, “Captain serious.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d even let you pick, I don’t care.”

“Starting to sound a bit desperate there, Kaner,” Jonny flashes his most punchable smirk, the one that’s a little lopsided and always makes Patrick squirm.

Patrick starts a mental list of ways to wipe it off his face. Maybe if he shoved two fingers up Jonny’s nose… “What?” he asks, kind of distracted.

“I’m just saying, If you want to see me naked that bad, you only have to--”

“Fuck you,” Patrick sputters. “I was being generous. Bros before hoes or whatever.”

“I’m telling Erica you said that.”

The thought is terrifying. “Don’t,” Patrick shrieks, so loud people in their proximity stop mid-munching to give them the stink eye.

It’s their cue to clear off, a pretty timely one, considering they barely make it on the bus. They’d probably be yelled at, if they weren’t Kane and Toews.

Jonny saunters past Colliton’s glare and flops down next to Seabs. Patrick takes the two seats right behind, stretching out until he’s almost horizontal.

He checks his phone. Chelsea sent him a text and a link. The texts says, one of them looks a bit like your boy. you’re welcome. The link-- Patrick slaps the phone face down on his thigh.

“You okay there, Kaner?” Jonny asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Patrick feels his ears burn redder than the Hawks home jersey. “Yeah, no. Real peachy.”

#belle #i KNOW i have a tag for my writing #but rn i'm blanking #??????#stuff i wrote

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fancyfade · 3 years

Text

so ive been debating editing chapter 3 on my fanfic to make 1 scene line up more from canon. (chapter 3 is this one, where the characters deal with the aftermath of battle for the cowl, Tim finds out Damian’s Robin, and Dick and Damian move to the penthouse)

I’m debating making the Tim finding out Damian’s Robin scene a little more canon compliant along what happened in Red Robin (link) for a few reasons, the main of which is in the scenes that I’m writing next (like... chapter 47 lol), Tim and Dick do have to talk about what transpired when Dick made Damian Robin. Potential reasons for change

In my fic Tim kind of just left on his own without a push, but I’m not sure if Tim would have left on such bad terms if there wasn’t the complication of Damian antagonizing him and him feeling as if Dick was picking Damian over him (even though in the comic we saw Dick trying to de-escalate and get Tim’s back, it still felt that way to Tim)

I dislike the way some of this was handled in the comic and I can’t really comment on it in my fic if I just retcon it out

it seems fair-er I guess if Tim is allowed to have flaws just like Cass and Damian and Dick all have flaws in this fic. i know many tim stans think otherwise, but punching a ten-year-old victim of child abuse in the face out of anger is wrong.

the con side is obviously this involves Damian getting hit and that kid has been through so much already. I’m really trying to figure out how it works with character dynamics vs like. give the poor kid a break-ness.

anyway if I did decide to replace the current chapter 3, this is what it would be replaced with (only the first scene, the second would be the same). If you are a reader of the fic feel free to leave your comments. I would do an “oh and I edited chapter 3″ note before the relevant stuff was mentioned if I go through with this, I wouldn’t like expect everyone to know what happened. Some of the dialogue is not like exactly like in canon (cuz thats boring and also to match with what I wrote the first time) but the feeling/ beats should be similar

Gotham’s finally had a bit of lull in the violence, and Dick is just wondering how he’s going to do this.

He’s accepted that Damian’s his responsibility – seeing the kid shot in the chest made that perfectly clear, as much as he would’ve liked it to be otherwise. He felt like he was way too young to be watching out for a kid in any capacity other than cool older brother, especially a kid who’s as difficult to get along with as Damian. He was a great fighter, of course, and he knew it – Dick’s not sure he’s ever heard the kid be humble about anything. To make things worse, Dick feels like he’s constantly stuck in the middle between Damian and the kid he actually views as his younger brother – Tim, who Damian tried to kill. Evidence in point:

“Robin?!” Tim asks once he’s gotten back on his feet and Dick's explained his plan – away from Damian, who's still recovering from surgery.

“You made Damian Robin?!” Tim asks again.

Dick sighs. He’s in the cave, in a Batman costume he feels doesn’t fit right at all with the cowl off, and Tim’s still in his regular clothes. He has no idea how to explain this to Tim – no idea how to make him feel like he’s not being replaced. Dick never wanted to be the one doing the replacing – he remembers how much it hurt to find out that Jason was Robin from the papers, and that was after he officially stopped being Robin. Tim never quit – and Dick’s not about to make him – but he has to come home to the guy who tried to kill him getting his name.

“Tim, I know this looks bad, but Damian needs this.”

“Remember when we thought Bruce was going to retire after Crisis?” Tim asks. “Batman and Robin was supposed to be us. You and me. Not you and the psychopath that tried to kill me.”

“Tim, you’re not my sidekick, you’re my partner – ” Dick takes a step towards Tim with his hand out, prepared to offer sympathy, but Tim shakes him off angrily.

“Obviously not!”

“And Damian needs me way more than you do. If we don’t keep an eye on him, he’s going to kill again.”

Tim scowls intensely. “That should really not be an endorsement for being Robin, Dick! He’s a killer! He belongs in jail!” Tim swallows a little and then lowers his voice out of shouting range. “Dick, he didn’t try to kill me because he for some reason thought it was the only way to stop me from doing something bad, as far as I can tell he just wanted to replace me. We’re talking about someone with absolutely no sense of right or wrong.”

“Of course he doesn’t have a sense of right or wrong. He’s a ten-year-old child who was raised as an assassin from birth!”

“Lots of our villains have really sad or sympathetic reasons for doing crime, that doesn’t mean we team up with them.”

“Are you serious?” Dick asks. “This isn’t the same, Tim.”

“How not?”

“Well for one,” calls Damian's voice from the stairs, and Dick can't help but cringe and think not now – “I'm a lot better than them.”

Dick's cringe only intensifies when he turns around to see what Damian is wearing. His new Robin costume.

Tim's hands clench into fists the instant he sees Damian. Dick knows he has to de-escalate things quick before Tim and Damian have another fight.

“Damian,” Dick says, trying to keep himself carefully neutral-sounding. “Shouldn't you be resting?”

Damian lifts his head up slightly so his nose is in the air, and walks down the stairs almost normally. There's only a little hesitation in the twist of his torso, a little stiffness of his right arm.

Either he's zoned out of his mind on painkillers or depressingly good at masking his pain for a ten-year-old.

“Please,” Damian says. “I was trained in the League of Shadows. Do you really think an over-the-hill ex-Robin could put me down?”

Tim's fist clenches further, and so Dick says, letting a bit more urgency slip into his voice, “Damian, shut up. Now.”

Damian puts his left hand on his hips and looks intentionally at Tim. He adds, “I'm not Drake – ”

He's barely got the word out before Tim leaps forward and punches him in the face. Dick's out of his seat, grabbing Tim to hold him back, who is still distressingly struggling against him, like he wants to keep up the assault despite the fact that Damian fell to the floor.

“My name is Tim Wayne!” Tim shouts as Dick is still holding him back.

Damian gingerly sits up. Dick prepares to release Tim, prepares to stop Damian if he has to, if he decides to get revenge. But he doesn't. He just briefly braces his right side with his left hand before wiping the blood off his face.

“I let you get that shot in, Drake,” Damian says, again dropping intentional emphasis on Tim's original last name.

As he does, Tim struggles forward.

“Tim, back off!” Dick says, because Tim still isn't cooling down –

“I want you to feel good about yourself,” Damian continues.

Tim seems to relax his stance slightly, so Dick, possibly in an error of judgment, lets Tim go. But Tim doesn't try to attack Damian again, he just shakes Dick off and starts stomping away. “You want me to back off? Fine.”

He's going for the exit.

If he leaves –

Dick can't chase him. He's not sure that he can leave Damian alone –

“Tim, wait!” Dick says, taking a step forward. “Bruce is gone. But I still need you.”

“For what?” asks Damian and damn it is there anything this kid isn't going to try to ruin?

“Shut up, Damian,” Dick says again, even though as far as he knows he's just going to wind up pushing Damian away too –

And Tim leaves.

Dick turns to look at Damian. The kid's already back to his feet, like nothing happened, and Dick takes a step forward to inspect the injury – though he's really more worried about the gunshot wound than Tim's punch. Both Tim and Damian had wound up injured pretty badly during the chaos that gripped Gotham in the rumors of Batman’s death. As his new and not-improved version of Batman, Jason had tried to kill them both, which Dick is way less than pleased about. He’d been kind of hoping that they could talk Jason down, but this seems like a line he doesn’t know if Jason can ever un-cross. He shot a ten year old in the chest.

Damian grabs Dick's wrist as he reaches out.

“Are you all right?” Dick asks.

Damian scoffs. “You're worried about Drake? I've been hit harder sparring my mother.”

“I was thinking about the gunshot.” Alfred had said the primary damage was blood loss and a punctured lung (well, traumatic pneumothorax, but Dick knew what he meant) and given the kid a minimum of four weeks downtime to heal.

It's hard to tell due to the domino mask, but Damian adopts the position of a kid who's rolling their eyes, head slightly tilted to the side with a loll. “It's not enough to impersonate Batman, now you want to impersonate my mother?”

Dick doesn't know how to approach the mother thing, so he doesn't even try. He just explains the logic for being Batman – (and there is logic behind it. It's not like he wanted this). “Someone has to step up and convince Gotham things can get back to normal,” Dick says. “And serial killer Batman wasn't going to cut it.”

“Did you at least take care of him?” Damian asks.

Dick knows that Damian isn't actually worried about Jason's wellbeing, so he says, “Do you mean 'did I kill him'?”

“Tt. Obviously.”

“Obviously not.”

Damian presses his lips together in a thin line.

Dick might as well get this out of the way now. He's going to have to sometime. “Alfred wants you out of the field for four weeks.”

“That's preposterous!” Damian shouts, and as he shouts, he coughs. He rubs his chest quickly and then glowers at Dick when he sees him staring.

“Damian, you could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

Jeez, doesn’t this kid have any sense of his own mortality? Though, Dick supposes, growing up around Lazarus Pits and a centuries old grandfather might make that impossible.

“I’m not a fool, Grayson, I know I’m not capable of healing instantaneously. I’ll take a break for one week,” he offers, like it’s a huge concession on his part.

“Four weeks,” Dick says.

“What about you?” Damian asks. “Didn’t you get injured?”

“Not as badly.”

“Are you taking a break?”

“Someone needs to convince Gotham that Batman’s not dead,” Dick says. Also, he doesn’t want to take a break. He doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. Losing Bruce. Failing Tim.

“Tt. Then I don’t need one either. I’m younger. I heal faster.”

Dick actually has no clue whether that’s true, because he’s not a doctor, but he knows that people usually say kids heal faster.

Dick swings his arms a little, trying to feel them out. They’re still stiff, and as they move, a jolt of pain shoots through him. Even when he’s not moving, his shoulder is still sore. He knows that he might get injured going into the field like this and that it’s not a smart decision – last time he went into the field while still healing, he wound up blowing his secret identity to Blockbuster.

He decides that at least if he’s going into the field, he won’t tell Barbara and Alfred about it. Okay, so that’s probably not the smartest of his plans. Most plans that you have to hide from people who care about you aren't smart.

“I’ll take a week long break with you,” Dick concedes. “And we can see how fast you’re healing.” The second part is a lie, of course. He's not going to supersede Alfred's orders on medical matters.

Dick sighs a little. He figures that while they’re both on bed-rest duty, though, he can try to figure out how to set things up so they can operate effectively once they get a clean bill of health.

“How do you feel about not living in the manor?” Dick asks.

“Kicking me out already?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I wouldn’t be living here either,” Dick says. It’s true. He’d rather not feel like he’s living in all of Bruce’s old places, wearing Bruce’s old costume, … replacing him, essentially. He needs a place he can clear his head.

“Where would you live then?” Damian asks skeptically.

Dick shrugs. “The penthouse, maybe. Bruce already made a bunker nearby, so we could operate out of there pretty easily.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “Why do you keep saying ‘we’?”

Because you are ten and not ready to live on your own. But Dick just says, “Well, you’re Robin now, right? That means you’re pretty much obligated to team up with Batman.”

“Batman isn’t here, Grayson. He never will be again, no matter how much you play dress-up.”

Charming kid. Like Dick didn’t already know that.

“You know I operate effectively alone, right?” Damian continues. “I don’t need to be hand-held and babysat like all of Father’s previous partners.”

Dick figures that it’d be a jerk move to remind Damian he just almost died and therefore really shouldn’t be on his own. Instead, he says, “Well, Alfred’s staying with me, so unless you want to get all your food and clean the house by yourself, you have to put up with me.”

“Tt . I don’t need a servant. I’ll just eat at restaurants.”

“On who’s money?”

“In the event of his death, my father’s assets should have transferred to me. His blood son.”

Oh boy. Dick rubs his face. “Does this have to be a thing, Damian? No one’s doubting your capacity to take care of yourself but I think it’d really be easier if we were operating out of the same building. “

A long silence on Damian’s part. “Fine,” he says eventually. “I’ll allow you to stay at my penthouse.”

My penthouse. Of course. But Dick takes it. “All right,” he says. “Let’s move in.”

#idk even #to my followers #my fanfic #dc comics #dc fanfic #tim drake #damian wayne #dick grayson

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openheart12 · 3 years

Text

A New Beginning

Summary: Tony and Michelle are once again thrown back into the chaos that is CTU. The same place that tore their family apart, is the same place where they get their second chance at a life.

WC: 4,441

Michelle never thought she would be standing in front of him in the same place that tore them apart, but here they were. She hadn’t seen him in six months and even though this is the hardest thing she’s had to endure, it was better this way.

Especially since he was the one who asked her to leave.

Her heart ached at the memory she tried to bury deep within her but it always found a way to bubble up to the surface.

They locked eyes and she noticed how much different he looked compared to six months ago, hope fluttered in her chest that maybe he finally cleaned himself up.

If not for her, then for Avery. She deserved to have her father in her life.

Michelle had found out she was pregnant just less than a year after they had gotten married. Both of them were beyond ecstatic although nervous.

Tony had ensured that Michelle stayed out of the field and he only went as a last resort. When they found out they were having a baby girl, a mini Michelle, Tony had been adamant on her name much to Michelle’s dismay.

But when Avery Michelle Almeida made her entrance into the world, during a national security crisis nonetheless, she was deemed perfect and healthy. At six pounds and seven ounces, and nineteen inches long, she already had her parents wrapped around her little finger.

Michelle recalled the moment, remembering how Chapelle was pissed that he had to come in as their replacements, but neither of them had cared in that moment. She remembered all the congratulations they received from their friends, how happy everyone was for them.

CTU had played a big part in the course of their relationship. It was where they met, where they shared their first kiss, where he actually ended up proposing, where they had to come in the middle of their honeymoon, and now the place where their baby was born.

And it was going to be the place where they reunited, unbeknownst to them.

Almost everyone knew of their history so they were inclined to see how the day would go. The people they worked with before knew about their daughter, but the newest employees had no idea. Most of them knew that this was the first time they’ve seen each other in a while since the divorce.

Almost all eyes were on them when she made her way through the bullpen and into the center next to Secretary Heller.

Secretary Heller asked Tony to bring her up to speed and he told her of the events at McLennan-Forrester and Jack and Paul. After he finished, he started to walk away as she called after him.

“Tony, I need the access codes for CTU and Division.”

He nodded and handed them to her, their fingers brushed against each other for a brief second. She thanked him and as she turned around to go, he asked her, “what do you want me to do?”

“Division’s sending over a supplemental list of terrorists who supposedly had contacts with Habib Marwan. Check any names that have been flagged by other agencies, including overseas.”

“Given what’s happening right now, it doesn’t seem like the best use of my time.”

“It has to be done and I’d like you to do it.” She started to walk away when he reached out and gently grabbed her arm.

“Michelle, Jack and Paul have information that could be vital to ending this crisis. I should be helping us find them, Michelle!”

“The last time I saw you, you couldn’t stay sober long enough to keep a job.”

“That was six months ago.”

“This is what I need you to do. If you don’t like it, you can resign.”

He let out a sigh, scratching the side of his cheek. “I’m gonna need a security clearance,” he relented.

“I’ll make sure you get a level three.”

“Level three?” He scoffed. “I used to have a six.”

“Right now, all you need is three,” she turned on her heel and walked into the situation room where a woman was sitting. She was looking through the files in front of her when the woman started speaking to her.

“Is there a problem with Agent Almeida?”

“Not at all.”

“It’s just that Secretary Heller is very sensitive to personal conflicts on the job. I know your history. I know that you guys were married and that he sacrificed his career to save your life, but if this is gonna be a problem-”

Who the hell was this woman, parading around like she knew anything about her and Tony’s relationship. “His being here will not affect my work. I won’t let it. Now, if Secretary Heller wants to speak to me about it, I’ll be more than glad to,” she said, signaling the end of this conversation.

With Sarah gone and Chloe back in play, the two of them found a way to put their personal problems aside and work as a team again. Michelle regretted not listening to Tony’s insight about Jack, knowing that he knew Jack and his tactics better than she did. But she couldn’t tell if she did it out of spite or not and that bothered her because she never let anything interfere with her work.

She tried apologizing, saying that she valued his input, which she did, but the damage had been done and the worst of it was yet to come.

Bill Buchanan strode through CTU and Michelle quickly introduced him to everyone else there. Her and Tony were standing close together talking after their failed attempt at capturing Marwan when Bill walked up next to them.

“Did you secure Marwan yet?”

“No, he must’ve slipped through the perimeter,” Michele explained.

“How the hell could you let that happen?” Bill accused, taking Michelle by surprise.

“It doesn't matter how it happened,” Tony defended. “What matters is that he’s gone and we’re doing everything we can to find him.” He and Michelle might not be together anymore, but he’d be damned if he let anyone talk to her like that, especially since it was a situation out of her control.

“What exactly are you doing to find him?” Bill asked, turning his attention to Michelle.

“We widened the perimeter, set up a search grid, state police and LAPD are conducting a sweep,” she answered as they were interrupted.

A few minutes later, Bill walked up to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, um, I’m sorry if I snapped.”

“It’s okay, we’re all under a lot of pressure.”

“You holding up?” He asked softly.

“I’m fine,” she smiled, hoping to convince him and herself of that.

Michelle wasn’t aware that Tony had seen their interaction. Tony knew something had probably transpired between the two and wanted to know the extent of it so he made his way towards Chloe.

“How long has Buchanan been at Division?” He asked her.

“Well, it took awhile to fill Chapelle’s position… six months.”

That’s how long ago she left, he thought. That wasn’t fair and he knew it since he told her to leave. “Where was he before that?”

“Seattle, I think.”

“Seattle?”

“Yeah, that’s where Michelle was posted while you were in jail, right?” Chloe asked, piecing it together. She was one of the few who didn’t know what had happened between Michelle and Tony, it wasn’t her business so she stayed out of it.

“Yeah… thanks.”

Tony had debated on confronting her about it or not and his curiosity ended up getting the better of him. “Michelle,” he called to get her attention, “when were you planning on telling me?”

“About what?”

“About you and Buchanan.”

She immediately became defensive, already knowing she wasn’t going to like where this conversation was headed. “Never because it’s none of your business.”

“Michelle, before you worked with him at Division, you worked with him at Homeland Security restructuring, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We were still married then.”

“Legally… yes.”

“Did you sleep with him while we were married?”

She stared at him in disbelief. “No, I didn’t.”

“But you are now?”

“Like I said, it’s none of your business. You know, it’s not like I have time to do anything between work and raising my daughter,” she retorted.

That jab took him by surprise and he hung his head low and walked away. She felt guilty, but he accused her of cheating on him while they were still married. She couldn’t even look at another man, even now, she was still completely and utterly in love with Tony.

Hours had passed by since their encounter and he wanted to clear the air between them, the tension was at an all time high.

“Michelle,” he began, “I was out of line a couple hours ago about you and Bill. It’s your life and I’ve got no right to judge you.”

“I appreciate that,” she said sincerely.

“And whatever tension there is between us, I would like to apologize for my part in it. I’d like it if we could just let it go so we can do our jobs. Leave the past in the past,” he finished. “And if it would be okay with you, I’d like to be in Avery’s life and I know I don’t deserve it, but she’s all I have left,” he added, sadness lacing his words.

“That sounds good,” she lied with a smile. “I know Ave would love to see you. She misses her daddy.” I miss him too, she thought to herself. Not to mention that she wasn’t ready to let go of their past just yet, she may never be ready to.

“We can talk about it later,” he said before going back to work and she did the same thing.

Both of them seemed to be working together better after their conversation, just like they used to. They became one again, putting their time and effort into the crisis at hand.

“Anything new?”

“Yeah, White House just authorized adding Iowa army reserve units to the ground search.”

“Have they widened the perimeter?”

“Yeah, they locked down a 60-mile radius around the area where the warhead was stolen, but I’m concerned Marwan’s people might’ve managed to sneak it outside that perimeter.”

“Well, we closed all major roads and air traffic immediately, but there is a chance they got it through.”

“Homeland Security’s faxing over casualty projections based on that possibility,” he said just as the fax started to ring.

“That’s probably them right now.”

“Yeah, I’ll get it.”

Another phone started to ring and she answered it, “CTU.”

“I’m calling for Tony Almeida. Who’s this?”

“This is Michelle Dessler, a colleague of his. May I ask who’s calling?”

“The woman he happens to be living with. Is he there?”

She felt as if she had just gotten kicked in the stomach. “Yeah, hold on. It’s for you,” she said, handing him the phone.

“Who is it?”

“The woman you’re living with.” She answered, hurt was evident in her eyes.

“Jen,” he answered with a sigh.

“I’ve been calling everyone we know going crazy looking for you. Then finally I thought maybe Jack Bauer took you back there. God, do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I should’ve called earlier. I’ve been very busy.”

“Really busy with Michelle Dessler?”

“I’m working, Jen.”

“Oh, for CTU?”

“On a provisional basis, yeah.”

“I thought you hated that place.”

“Things have changed a little.”

“Yeah, I guess they have.”

“Look, Jen, we can talk about this later. Right now, I gotta go. All right?”

“Tony, what’s your ex-wife doing there?”

“Jen, I’m sorry, but I gotta go,” he said before hanging up. He rubbed his face, knowing how big of a jackass he had been earlier. “Michelle, um, I’m sorry you had to find out like that.”

“It’s really none of my business.”

“Yeah, it is,” he countered. She started to walk away and he followed after her. “I should’ve told you I was living with someone else.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now.”

“Yeah, well, I do. Listen to me,” he gently grabbed her arm, turned her around, and backed her into the wall. “When you left, everything fell apart. Jen happened to be there for me.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for your relationship.”

“I’m not making excuses. I’m just telling you how it is.”

“Do you love her?” She asked, afraid of his answer.

He didn’t hesitate before answering. “No.”

“Ms. Dessler, the new protocols from DOD just came in. Should I send them to your screen?” Edgar told him, quite aware that he was interrupting something.

“Send them to station sixteen,” she answered and with one last look at him, she walked past him.

She didn’t know how much time had passed since Jen called and she hadn’t talked to Tony since and truth be told, she had been avoiding him to try to sort out her feelings.

Her phone started to ring and she answered automatically, “Dessler?”

“Hey, Michelle, it’s Allison.”

Allison was Avery’s babysitter and panic immediately started to set in after seeing what time it was. “Is Avery okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. She just misses you and wants to talk to you. I tried to tell her you were at work, but you know how stubborn she is.”

Michelle smiled for the first real time today, leave it to her daughter to be the reason. “Let me talk to her, I have a few minutes.”

“Momma?” She heard her daughter's tinge voice say.

“Hey, sweetheart. What are you still doing up?”

“I miss you a bunch. When are you coming home?”

“Not for another couple hours, but what if I told you I have a surprise for you when I get home?”

“Ooohhh, what is it?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?” She laughed at her excitement. “But you have to go to sleep to get it.”

“Okay, okay. I love you, momma.”

“I love you too, baby. I’ll see you soon.” She reluctantly hung up. She swore she had to have the easiest five year old who actually listened to her.

“Everything okay?” She turned around to see Tony’s worried expression.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. That was Avery.”

“Is she okay?” He asked as worry started to set in.

“Yeah, she just wanted to talk.”

“Leave it to our kid to be awake way past her bedtime,” he joked.

“I wonder who she gets that from,” she teased back with an easy smile.

“Hey, my sleeping habits have gotten a lot better,” he defended himself with a laugh. “At least I don’t take up half of the bed when I sleep.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, Almeida,” she shot back. They were treading into dangerous territory by bringing up the past but before either of them could say anything, Michelle was called away and she gave him an apologetic smile.

After the news of the attack on the Chinese Consulate circulated through CTU, it only made finding the warhead a bigger priority and it didn’t help that Cheng Zhi demanded to come to CTU to get some answers.

Michelle was just getting off the phone when Tony walked into her office. “This situation with the Consulate is dragging us down. We shouldn’t be diverting resources away from finding that warhead.”

She was amazed at how they were thinking the same thing. “Well, hopefully this is just a formality and we can get rid of him quickly. If we don’t get information from Lee, Audrey’s husband would’ve died for nothing,” she said, leaning against her desk.

“What is she still doing here?” Tony asked, staring down at her through the glass panel.

“I think she wants to stay busy so she doesn’t have to think about it,” she answered softly. She was familiar with the concept herself.

“It’s funny, when I met Audrey this afternoon, it seemed she and Jack were totally together… a few hours later and everything has changed.” Just like it had with them. He turned to look at her before speaking again. “Michelle, I hate being without you,” he said softly.

“I never wanted it to be this way,” she answered honestly. “And Avery… she deserves to have her dad around.”

The phone rang telling them that Chang had arrived and just like that, they were back in work mode.

Later, they were up in her office once again. “Tactical is at Richard’s house, they’re going through his things right now.”

“What about Jack?” Tony asked.

“Jack and Curtis are on their way back right now.”

“Someone has to tell Audrey that Jack is going to be interrogating her brother.”

“Audrey’s not going to want Jack near her brother,” Tony pointed out.

“Can’t be helped… I mean if Richard knows something about that missile…” she trailed off.

“It’s funny, this morning Jack and Audrey were planning their future, now he’s responsible for her husband's death and he may have to torture her brother.”

“Yet, every move he’s made has been the right one.” She went over and sat down on the couch.

“Not if he wanted to be with her.” He took a seat beside her. “Look, Michelle, everything that’s happened today, it’s been hard going through it with you again.”

“It’s been hard for me too.”

“I look at what this job does to people in our positions and I realize,” he met her eyes, “I want us to be together again, but it’s gotta be away from all this. We shouldn’t have to put our country over our family.”

Getting back together didn’t come as a surprise to her, she had been expecting it, but leaving the job completely took her off guard.

“You want us to leave our jobs?” He nodded. “We’ve spent the last twelve years of our lives doing this. Where would we go? What would we do?”

“I don’t care… Look, people start over every day if it’s important to them and you are important to me and so is Avery. I want my family back, Michelle.”

“You’re asking me to leave the only thing I’ve ever done?”

“Yes, I am,” he answered. She turned her head away from him, her thoughts scrambling all over the place.

He went to walk out her door when she stopped him. “Why did you want me to leave?”

“I thought it was for the best and plus, Ave didn’t need to see me like that. I wasn’t the husband or father that I needed to be and I was humiliated and ashamed of myself. I thought I was helping you and that you would eventually figure out that you deserved so much more than I could offer you. Prison was the worst time of my life and I just, I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me like I was of myself.”

“Do you ever regret it,” she asked hesitantly. “Saving me, I mean.”

“Michelle, I never once regretted my decision to save you. If I had to, I would do it again because I love you. If it hadn’t been for you, I never would’ve had the best three years of my life. Our girl wouldn’t be here either if it wasn’t for you. The only thing I regret is telling you to leave, thinking that it would help both of us when it only made things worse.”

“But look where we are now because of me.”

“Exactly, Michelle, Avery has both of her parents. I’m willing to fix us, if you are. I love you more than my life itself and I love our little girl. Nothing is ever going to change that fact. This job isn’t worth it anymore, it’s not more important than you or Avery.”

“Okay,” she smiled, tears in her eyes.

“Okay?” He mirrored her smile.

“I’m ready to leave here. I’m ready to go with you.”

He swiftly walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Are you sure? Because I’m not letting go of you again.”

“I can’t spend another day without you,” she confirmed and that was all he needed to seal his lips over hers. It had been six months since he saw her, six months since he last touched her and even longer since he last kissed her. The kiss spoke more than words could ever say.

After a minute, he pulled back, both of them breathless with huge grins on their faces. Stupid love drunk grins.

“I love you from now until forever,” he told her.

“I will love you always,” she choked out. He knew repeating part of their vows would make her emotional, but he wanted her to know that he was serious about trying again.

This is forever.

“Come on, let’s get back to work so we can go home.”

Home. It sounded too good to be true, but nonetheless, she was ready to start fresh. A new beginning was exactly what they needed.

Hours passed by, Marwan was dead, the missile had been destroyed, and they had just helped Jack fake his death with the help of Chloe and President Palmer.

Dropping Jack off for the last time was hard for both of them, but Michelle could see the toll it took on Tony. They were friends for years and had come to trust each other like brothers.

She covered his hand with hers and he intertwined their fingers together.

“Let’s go home.”

“Let’s go home,” she repeated with a smile. She gave him the directions to her apartment and they arrived twenty minutes later. Looking over at him, she could tell he was nervous. “Come on,” she nudged him slightly.

The afternoon sun bathed the building in a golden glow with white clouds drifting lazily in the breeze. It was a beautiful day in California.

They got out of the SUV and Michelle led him up the stairs to her front door. “It’ll be okay,” she reassured him.

The keys turned the lock, a soft click was heard before she opened the door. A woman who Tony didn’t recognize was seated in the kitchen.

She nodded in acknowledgment before turning her attention to Michelle.

“Avery’s in her room playing and we did all of her homework, she hasn’t eaten lunch yet because she wanted to wait to eat with you,” she laughed softly. “Are you going to need me tomorrow?” She asked, looking between her and Tony.

“Probably not, but I’ll give you a call if that changes. We’re supposed to have a couple days off,” Michelle explained. “Thank you, Allison.” They bid their goodbyes and Tony wandered over to the living room, where the pictures of Avery caught his eye.

“I can’t believe I let things get this bad,” he said, choking back tears.

“Oh, Tony.” Michelle strided over towards him, wrapping her arms around him as he clung to her.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating.

“Shh,” she soothed him gently, rubbing small circles across his back.

“Momma?” A tiny voice asked and she felt Tony tense in her arms.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she greeted, turning around to face her daughter. Her little eyes were trained on the person behind her who was now trying to stifle his sobs.

“Daddy’s home?” She asked, a hint of hope in her voice.

“Daddy’s home,” Michelle smiled as her eyes filled with tears.

Avery tentatively walked up behind him and placed her arms around his legs. Tony stood there for a few seconds, soaking in the feeling of being home before squatting down to her level.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he greeted with a smile, placing a kiss on her cheek.

“I missed you,” she cried out, throwing her small arms around his neck.

“I missed you so much.” He told her.

Michelle watched the two of them, her heart swelling with joy. Her family was together again, her perfect little family.

“Can we watch The Little Mermaid?” She asked after a few minutes, making her parents laugh.

“I see not that much has changed,” he teased, referencing Avery’s favorite movie since she was a year old. Avery led Tony over to the couch where they plopped down on it together, her talking animatedly about anything and everything that came to her mind and Tony listened intently.

These were the moments she missed the most, just the three of them together. She watched them for a few more minutes until she headed towards the kitchen to make some popcorn.

She didn’t even know Tony was in there until she felt his arms wrap around her and his chin resting on her shoulder. “Are you already tired of me? It’s only been a day, Michelle.”

“What?”

“You’re making popcorn… ya know, it requires using the microwave, right? Are you trying to kill me already?” He teased her.

“I think I can handle a microwave.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I recall a time where you almost set our house on fire when you heated up that Chinese food without taking it out the box.”

“Shut up!” She laughed, turning around in his arms. “I’ve gotten better since then because-” she stopped, her smile faltering. She learned how to cook, to the best of her ability, after leaving Tony so that her and Avery wouldn’t have to survive off of takeout for three meals a day.

“I know,” was all he said.

“We have to be able to talk about it instead of just pushing it aside. Not like what we did last time.”

“And we will, but now, we have a movie to watch. We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.”

“Okay,” she relented with an easy smile, her cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling she had done within the past couple of hours.

They heard Avery come back to the living room, calling for Tony and the two of them together grabbed the popcorn and snacks and sat down on the couch with Avery between them. She was dressed in her The Little Mermaid pajamas to match the movie.

As the movie started, Michelle stole one last glance at them and smiled yet again. This is what their life was going to start looking like from now on once they left CTU, the place where this all became possible, but the same place that could take it all away in a split second.

This was their second chance, their new beginning, and she wasn’t going to waste it.

#tony x michelle #tony almeida #24 fanfiction #24 the show #24 #tony almeida x michelle dessler #michelle dessler

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jacksgreysays · 4 years

Note

Could/Should/Did- team seven meeting in modern au

A/N: So I am mega late on this, but I was getting very strong Friendship Is A (Mutual) Con vibes and it doesn’t quite go with the ask box event’s premise but I thought it was fun anyway? Ahhhh, I am so rusty in writing D:

---

it could have gone like this:

Shikako scans the crowd with a furrowed brow, seeking without finding. She's not frowning just yet, but she looks close to it, and that's not exactly a good look for a party with as many important people as this.

"What's wrong?" Ino asks her in a low murmur and hidden behind a perfect smile because she, at least, knows the importance of maintaining appearances.

"I'm not sure," Shikako admits, she goes to pull on her braid--her go to for fidgeting--only to remember that her hair has been put in a fancier up do. She settles for interlacing her fingers in a brief moment of self comfort before she pulls them apart.

"Relax, Shikako," Ino assures her. She pulls two flutes of bubbly off a tray carried by a waiter--standard uniform barely making up for his wild blonde hair--and hands one over to Shikako. "This party is for you."

At this, Shikako frowns, but automatically takes a drink. "No, it's for my security system. Which defeats the purpose of making a security system or at the very least makes whatever it's protecting a lot less secure." After all, the best way to keep something safe from thieves is if nobody knows it even exists. Having a party celebrating a security system is practically the same thing as having neon signs pointing at a safe saying 'Valuables In Here!'

Not to mention giving all these random people access? Anyone could sneak in during this event and make an attempt.

Ino rolls her eyes. "Don't be so paranoid, Shikako. You should be networking now. If these people are wealthy enough to be invited, you know they're wealthy enough to have secrets that need to be protected."

"And I'm the one who should be protecting those secrets?" Shikako asks dryly even as her eyes scan and scan and scan the crowd. She doesn't even know what she's looking for, who she's looking for, just that she feels like something is wrong.

"Or their wealth, at least," Ino says, before her eyes catch on a vaguely familiar figure. "Ooh, looks like the Uchiha family could send someone after all. If you'll excuse me," she adds before abandoning Shikako for a beautiful boy.

This isn't the first time it's happened so Shikako stays put, awkwardly drinking the champagne, certain something will happen but not what or how.

---

it should have gone like this:

Usually, Sasuke tries not to bring his family into his... occupation.

Inferiority complex aside, it's not exactly difficult. His parents are absurdly proud of Itachi, one of the world's top medical diagnosticians, for all that it doesn't relate directly to taking over running the Uchiha's various businesses and ventures. They weren't exactly pleased when Sasuke ran off to join the military, but their closed mouth smiles in public meant he could get away with it.

And in the after, when he waves off their inquiries with words like 'crisis consultant' and 'NDA' and 'international incidents', they continued their closed mouth smiles and nodded and looked away.

So for the most part, yes, Sasuke keeps his family away from the realities of his job. But that doesn't mean the family name isn't occasionally useful for said job.

Getting into an exclusive party for the elite of the city at the last second being one such convenient occasion.

Or, at least, it would be convenient if it weren't for the--what feels like--hundreds of random people swarming him. Someone or other keeps asking him questions, people laughing no matter how bland his answers, and a drink somehow manages to find its way into his hands no matter how quickly he tries to discretely get rid of it without actually drinking it. Some scruffy asshole of a waiter, glee sparkling in his blue eyes, hands an entire tray of drinks over to the eager mob thus prolonging Sasuke's suffering.

By the time he extricates himself--without any violence, otherwise it would have gone much faster--a woman in a green dress is fiddling with her phone in front of the vault's access panel. Sasuke weighs the pros and cons of engaging her in conversation. Flirting might get her to do what he wants, but it may also give her the wrong idea and backfire on him horribly. Intimidation would probably be more effective, but who knows how important she might be? It's why, yet again, his usual method of controlled violence won't work here.

He approaches her, mouth open to say--

The lights go out.

---

but it actually went like this:

By the time Naruto manages to ditch the tray of champagne flutes and the basic uniform of the caterers staff that got him into this fancy shindig, he's almost seven whole minutes behind on getting into the vault.

No problem, he'll wing it.

He slips into the vents easily, line dropping him from the party floor all the way down to the building's foundations. There's something weird about the building, he could sense it even when he was doing recon last week, the dimensions of the hallways and rooms just slightly off.

The vault isn't a vault. Or, at least, it isn't just a vault.

Popping out of one ventilation system, he scrambles over to the other--the one that isn't connected to the rest of the building. The one that leads to the bunker which the vault doubles as.

This ventilation shaft is a little harder to maneuver--motion sensors every four feet, how paranoid--but Naruto's not the best at what he does by giving up!

The lights going out don't really stop him, there's only one direction he can go at this point, but as he unscrews the grate into the bunker they flash back on, blinding him for a moment.

It's enough to distract him, enough to delay him--he's a little too slow to shuffle backwards into the vent. He's not the only one in the bunker-vault and the lady in green meets his eyes with a confused almost smile on her face. Not so much of a set back, maybe.

The sudden arm reaching in, grabbing him by the harness, and bodily yanking him out? That's the bigger problem.

"You," says the rich asshole that Naruto turned into his distraction.

"Me," Naruto says back, grin wide and obnoxious.

"We," the lady in green cuts in, emphasizing the word, "Are all in trouble."

"What do you mean?" Naruto asks, unfortunately at the same time as the rich asshole who still has an iron grip on his climbing harness. He is a master escape artist, but the climbing harness is designed to stay on no matter what extreme acrobatics he puts it through.

"Someone else got here before we did."

---

and what happened elsewhere:

Kakashi's grin is hidden, but it shows in his eye. "Amateurs," he says, fond, watching the feed of the three kids, "How adorable."

#jacksgreyson #cadalie #prompt response #writing #fanfiction #could should actually fic #dreaming of sunshine #naruto #friendship is a (mutual) con #shikako nara #ino yamanaka #sasuke uchiha #naruto uzumaki #kakashi hatake

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black-dragon1998 · 4 years

Text

First day back at the office

part 8 ‘Out of the box wat of starting a family’

summary: Lena has to go back to the office but Kara has a Supergirl emergency so Lydia has to go with her.

part 1 Beginning a family

part 2 Meeting the rest of the family

part 3 Going shopping

part 4 Waiting for Supergirl

part 5 Sick

part 6 Game night part 1/2

part 7 Game night part 2/2

Lena had imagined her first day back to work a little different. Kara and her had agreed on taking turns on staying home and taking care of Lydia. Kara’s job as a reporter gave her a little more leniency about her work hours and place. Lena had to eventually go back to the office, even how good Sam did a job as a CFO L-Corp didn’t run without her signature. She did however hoped it would be a little smoother.

Of course, their life couldn’t be that easy. The day Lena was support to go back to work, she really couldn’t put it off anymore. Alex called in Supergirl for some alien crisis, forcing Lena to come up with a new strategy. Lena woke up a grumpy Lydia, trying to explain why she had to go with her to the office. Luckily Lydia took her baths in the evening and only needed a fresh pair of clothes.

Putting her in her highchair Lena gave her an easy breakfast that she couldn’t smear out over herself, while she gathered everything to take with them. Next to two different outfits she also packed a couple of toys, Lydia’s favorite color book and crayons, her noise-cancelling headphones and a couple of soothers.

Forty-five minutes later Lena had both of them strapped in the car and was driving toward L-corp. Lydia had back asleep.

It still being early in the morning L-Corp wasn’t as busy as it usually was, so Lena could move Lydia to her office without her little girl being scared by all the noises. Lena installed Lydia on the couch so she could sleep for another couple of hours. She didn’t have any meetings planned for today, so she could become up to date with all the paperwork she had missed. This also mend she could keep a close eye on Lydia, not quite ready to let the girl be alone.

It was close to 11 o’clock when Lena saw the mountain of blankets on the couch start to move. Lena signed the paper in front of her and got up from her desk to go see her.

“sleep well a chroi.” Lena crouched down in front of the couch and started stroking Lydia’s head to help and ground the little girl. Waking up in unfamiliar places was hard for the little girl, evident when she woke up at Alex and Sam’s house when they had laid her down for a short nap. Seeing her mother made the girl relax, preventing an meltdown.

“Mommy! Mama?” the little crinkle in the little girl's forehead reminded her so much of herself and couldn’t help but smile.

“mama is with aunt Alex, they are helping people.” Explaining to a two-year-old that your mother is a superhero is one thing trying to explain what the entails are on a whole other level.

Seeing the familiar object Lydia dropped her thump and opened her mouth for her mother to put in the soother. Putting in the soother Lena strokes Lydia’s cheek with her other hand for comfort.

“do you know where you are Angeal?” Lydia nodded, still whining for her mama. Lena and Kara had noticed Lydia had taken on the habit of sucking on her thump while feeling fussy so Lena searched Lydia’s bag for her ‘Supergirl’ themed soother, a gods gift to keep the girl calm in hard moments. If only had they had it the first couple of weeks.

Lena stood up, getting back to work hopping Lydia would sleep for just a little while longer. No such luck, because like every time Lydia woke up she craved human contact when she just woke up.

“Mommy!” Lydia makes grabby hands at Lena, the young mother knew she shouldn’t give in so fast or her little girl would get spoiled. Thinking back at her times with the Luthor’s. She couldn’t remember if Lillian has ever hugged her, makes the decision very quickly.

Lena picked up her daughter and walked back to her desk to continue working. During her time at home, Lena had learned how-to work with a little human attached to her hip or on her lap.

A couple of hours had passed when Lydia started squirming on Lena’s lap. Looking down Lena saw Lydia looking up at her.

“Mommy, potty.” Reacting quickly Lena lifted Lydia and puts a hand under her to feel it heavier than before.

“Okay little one, let’s get you cleaned up.” Lena got up from her desk. Putting Lydia on the ground to grab her bag with clean cloths. The little girl started to get fussy when putting down and Lena had to act fast.

“just a moment Angeal, I’m just grabbing your bag and clean cloths.” Slinging the bag over her shoulder she grabs Lydia’s hand and leads her toward the restroom, the on the hall and not in her office because the one in her office didn’t have enough room for her to help Lydia let alone changer her. Nobody used it beside her and Jess so nobody could see her being soft and ruin her reputation.

Exiting the restroom Lydia was walking next to her, full woken up and was animatedly talking about her dream. Lena was listening intently while they were walking back. The talking instantly stopped when the little girl noticed the woman standing in front of Jesses desk, who was out on her lunch break.

The woman looked very agitated her foot tapping rapidly on the floor and her arms were crossed over her chest, huffing every few seconds to let people know she wasn’t getting what she wanted.

“mommy wo that?” Lydia talking seemed to draw the woman’s attention, she spun around on her high heels and levelled them with a glare. Lena was unaffected by this but Lydia hid behind Lena.

“ah finely, somebody to assist me. I have to say this is one of the worst welcomes I have had in a long time.” The tone in the woman implied that Lena should feld bad for this, which she didn’t. All Lena could do was stare at the woman. Who was she? What was she doing here and more importantly how did she get up here?

Lena felled a extensive talk with her security team coming up.

“what can I do for you, ma’am.” Lena didn’t show any emotion on her face. She knew the woman wasn’t here for an appointment because she didn’t have any today and had told Jess to redirect everybody that wanted to make one to another date.

the woman sends her another glare, looking very annoyed.

“well because of your tardiness ‘I’ am late for my appointment.” Lena couldn’t help but look at the woman with a questionable look. What was this entitled woman talking about, what nonsense was she spouting. It also seemed she didn’t know who she was talking about and that Lena was the secretary.

Lydia didn’t like this woman. She was mean snarky and not in the bubbly way her mommy could be with her mama and auntie Alex. She made her feel uncomfortable. The little girl pulled on Lena’s pants to get her attention.

Looking down Lena saw her daughter outstretched, silently making fists at her. Lena picked her up and put her on her hip, stroking her back to soothe he, sensing she was feeling uncomfortable.

Seeing Lydia seemed to double the woman glaring, making the little girl shrink back into Lena.

“if you weren’t so busy slacking off at your job maybe you could let the CEO know I am here.” Lena was getting fed up with this woman and her making her daughter uncomfortable was the last straw.

“Sorry to disappoint you but are no meetings plant for today, so if you would be so pleased to leave before I’m forced to call security.” Lean fired back, stepping behind Jesses desk ready to call security.

Not giving up that easy the woman started spouting other lies while calling Lena names.

“that is impossible I know the CEO and he is expecting me, so if you would be so nice as to go and get him you and that runt of your can go back to doing nothing. Let me guess you want to sell the kid as he don’t you, making him pay for your expenses.”

“I’m sure you know the CEO, but she doesn’t know you and is asking you to leave.” Lena fires back, picking up the phone and call security. Hearing Lena call security the woman loses it completely, razing her voice while spouting insults and pointing an accusing finger at Lena saying that she was lying. Lydia buried herself further into Lena, not liking the loud noises.

“I don’t know if you think you are funny but I demand to speak to your superior!” keeping a calm face Lena walks into her office, leaving the woman behind screaming.

She placed Lydia on the couch stroking her cheek, calming her down.

“you okay a chroi?” Lena asked looking wordily at her daughter. Lydia didn’t say anything but did give a little nod. Lena decided to leave Lydia in the office while she dealt with the raging woman and after that, she thinks it might be best to go home for the day, maybe stop for lunch. Giving her a final kiss on the forehead Lena walks back outside the office.

Lena had informed her security team of a code yellow, trespassing without violence. So they should be here soon. She closed the door behind her so Lydia wouldn't see or hear anything that would happen. The woman was still where she left her and attacked Lena the moment she saw her exiting the office.

“I thought you were going to get your superior and where did you leave the brat.” That was the last straw for Lena, nobody called her kid a brat.

“I don’t have to go and get anybody because in this company there is no one higher than me. What I did do was notify security and they should be here any moment to escort you out.” The grave mistake she seemed to have made settled on the woman’s face. The ‘simple’ secretary she thought she was harassing turned out to be the CEO of the company she wanted to get an appointment with.

Behind the woman, Lena saw the elevator doors open. Stepping out were Jess and her security team. If this was something Jess had to deal with on the daily the woman deserved a raze.

“the next couple of minutes will determine whether or not I press charges for trespassing or not.” Lena watched on in amusement how the woman’s face flushed with rage but held her breath. Informing Jess over what happened and trusting she will handle everything with security Lean stepped back into the office to check on her daughter.

Lydia had retreated to one of the corners of the couch, knees pulled up to her chest and plush wolf squeezed tightly between her arms and legs. Lena sat down next to her, not touching her to not startle the girl even more. It took a minute for Lydia to notice her mother had reentered the room.

“mommy! Woman gone?” Lena pulled Lydia on her lap and started stroking her hair. Seeing the state her daughter was in Lena did have to have a firm word with her security team, so things like this never happened again.

“it’s okay now little one. The mean lady is gone.” Lydia visibly relaxed into Lena and hugged her mother closer.

“Why don’t we pack up and go home, we can stop for lunch and maybe mama is done with her work already and can join us.” Lydia nods in the crook of Lena’s neck. Lean picked up the things she needed, the rest she would leave at the office for if Lydia stayed over again. Before leaving the office Lena put on Lydia’s noise-cancelling headphones and picket her up.

She took the elevator straight to the underground parking where her driver was waiting for her. On their way home, they stopped for Kara’s and Lydia favourite lunch at Noonan’s. sending Kara a quick text to tell her where they were and how things where going moments later she got a text back from Kara saying she would join them at home for lunch.

When Kara entered the apartment for lunch Lydia’s mood had gone back up again and she was telling Kara about the day she had at the office. Kara was a little confused when Lydia started talking about a monster that had yelled at her mommy, but with Lena clarifying Kara was listening intently.

food devoured Kara played with Lydia for a little while, letting Lena put on the final touches on the papers she started in the office before laying the little girl down for her afternoon nap. While the little girl slept Kara finished the article she had to finish before cuddling with Lena on the couch to listen to how her girlfriend was feeling. She knew Lena was good at bottling up her feelings and prioritizing other people over herself. It didn’t take long before all the stresses of the day were released and Lena snuggled into Kara to take her own midday nap.

The first day back to work had certainly interesting, but Lena if she had Kara and Lydia coming home to she could do it forever.

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#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #kara danvers x lena luthor #kara danvers x reader #mom kara danvers #lena luthor x reader #protective lena luthor #mom lena luthor #Kara Danvers x Daughter OC #oc daughter #protective Kara

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syms-things-5 · 4 years

Text

Clear The Area - Chapter Seventeen

Previous Chapter Here

Warnings: Strong language and an air of discomfort.

Notes: I hope this reads OK as it’s quite dialogue-heavy.

Tags: @kelbabyblue @jennmurawski13

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The night shifts weren’t all bad. From time to time, they were even as good as “pretty straight forward”. They proved especially useful when trying to finish patient notes and random admin that always got left to the very end of the shift. Perhaps they’d endure a tidy-out of the stock cupboards if the crew was feeling generous. Since O’Brien had taken up his post at the hospital years earlier, he had insisted upon mandatory training updates for the ER units every three to four months (the national average was about once a year) so the team were regularly reminded not to set fire to their computers and not to leave boxes in places people could trip over. You’d be surprised how often both those things happened in an emerging crisis.

“I swear he thinks we’re idiots half the time.” Complained Jack, his head now glued to the palm of his hand. Jack was hurtling towards an early retirement thanks to an ever-increasing distrust of the corporate environment ER departments found themselves in. We trained to save lives, he’d say, not file stat reports. He was so right, it hurt.

The crew was sat round the reception desk. The ER was empty except for a local homeless man the team allowed in from time to time to sleep off his latest drunken adventures.

“Who doesn’t know how to bend their knees when lifting something heavy?” Jack asked again.

“Ryan for one.” Sarah joked, pointing her cold cup of tea towards the fellow nurse in question. Ryan was a tall and skinny guy, not dissimilar to Alexander Skarsgard in the right light but with less charm although he had left a few of the interns swooning of late. Shanna quite liked him, too.

“One time, Sarah. One time and I suffered for it greatly.” Ryan remarked, spinning a full 360 in his swivel chair. “Did you tick ‘agree’ or ‘strongly agree’ for question eleven?”

“Oh, if you don’t tick ‘strongly agree’ even if you only ‘agree’, they mark you down a couple of percentage points.” Entered Audrey, slamming down a pile of files on the desk beside Sarah. Their nightly routine just got more interesting. “Just get it over with. It’s not worth the effort. It’s just O’Brien being obsessed with stats again. He turns everything into a competition. I swear it’s unhealthy.”

Ryan looked momentarily confused before returning to face his computer screen. He re-read the question for the fifth time and rubbed his eyes in resignation. Something about 3am made this far too complicated.

“When did you even find time to do this, Aud?” Jack asked, turning back to Sarah and Audrey in time to witness their shared look self-satisfaction. “I’ve been sat here for half an hour and am still only part way through the first section.”

“I logged in at home earlier.” she responded before catching Sarah’s quizzical look. “Well, Michael did most of it for me.”

“Fucking hell!” exclaimed Jack, chucking his pen on the table, giving up. “Got no chance then, have I? Michael’s a bloody genius. Hey, how much for him to do mine?”

“Normally I’d say $100 but he’s pretty cheap these days.” shrugged Audrey. “Probably a fancy cigar would do.”

“He still grumpy about the you-know-what?” whispered Sarah to her friend when the guys started joshing between themselves.

Audrey leaned back on the desk beside her and took the mug from Sarah’s hands to take a sip, grimacing slightly at the sweetness. For some reason, Sarah had to have at least three sugars in her tea if she was drinking it post-midnight. It helped to keep her more alert apparently. She didn’t drink it like that at any other time of the day. “No more than usual. Seems like we’re both unlucky in that department at the moment.”

Sarah smiled at her in acknowledgement, lips thin before biting the inside of her cheek.

Following their last meet-up, Chris had been decidedly quiet. Too quiet almost. It was weird. He hadn’t messaged her. He hadn’t called or visited their apartment except to collect a parcel he had left. Sarah has been out for a run at the time and had felt silently glad to have missed him. He hadn’t updated his twitter and there had been multiple sports events occurring that would have guaranteed a humblebrag or five. Shanna had pledged to buy rib-eye steaks for a Saturday night meal during a Celtics game and he had cancelled at the last minute citing an interview he had conveniently forgotten. Even Audrey thought it was weird. If anything was guaranteed to get his attention and bring him out of whatever funk he was in, it was the promise of sports and a ‘Grade A’ barbeque.

Shanna merely put it down to his laziness or him having something better turn up. Scott had started replacing Chris around their apartment, wanting to get some of his own distance from the tricky Zach situation and it helped her feel better knowing he was at least in touch with him if Shanna wasn’t. He was evidently still alive.

Sarah decided to swap a couple of daytime stints to partner up with Audrey for the nights. She needed the comfort of working with a good friend to calm her down from whatever ledge her anxiety had placed her on.

“You know that he’ll come back, right?” Audrey interrupted her thoughts. Maybe Sarah spoke too soon. “Haven’t you got that birthday thing for Lisa coming up?”

That trip was a couple of weeks away yet. She was trying to bank some reasonable excuses but everything sounded lame in the cold light of day and Lisa was never going to accept her not coming as well. Surely things would have smoothed themselves out by then?

“This won’t just fix itself, hun, you’ll need to speak to him eventually. And the sooner the better.”

It was like Audrey had a hotline straight into Sarah’s psyche. It was unnerving at the best of times. Sarah knew she was right of course. It’s just, a little bit of distance would be a good thing, right? Even Chris himself had offered that advice from time to time, and stressing herself out at this point almost seemed counterintuitive.

“I reckon you could go in an hour or so if you wanted.” Audrey offered, nudging her friend with her elbow to bring her back into the room. “It’s dead out there.”

“I hope not.” Sarah joked, trying to lighten the mood. “We’d be shit at our jobs if that was the case.”

Audrey laughed for the first time since Sarah could remember that day. It was moments like this that reminded her of why she enjoyed working alongside her so much, and why she didn’t mind if it resulted in overtime.

“You wanna take patient referrals while I take the EPRs?”

“How can I refuse an offer like that?” Sarah picked up the dozen or so documents sat in front of her and grabbed the nearest chair. Audrey told her she’d put the kettle on and nudged the guys still glued to their screens. Ryan had pretty much given up logical thinking and was now ticking random boxes. Jack was cursing under his breath. O’Brien was going to be in for a real treat when he could finally tabulate the responses.

It was nearing 6.20am when Sarah and Audrey finally packed up to go. Matt and Stephanie had just arrived to take over for the morning, bringing a fresh perspective for the day. There wasn’t much for them to catch up on so it should be a smooth few hours at least. Sarah even ran a mop through the staff locker room as an added gift – Steph was a notorious clean freak – nearly tripping Greg up in the process.

He’d been on leave for the past fortnight and his hair was a little longer than she remembered. A five o’clock shadow graced the lower part of his face and it suited him more than she thought it would. He had kept up with the informal tie-less attire and he seemed to be, dare she it, enjoying himself.

“God, I’m so sorry.” She held her hands up in a mock mea culpa. “I was just gonna put it away before heading out. It was a stupid place to leave it.”

“Did you not take the Health and Safety refresher?” he joked, rebalancing himself and trying to play down the redness creeping into his cheeks from the embarrassment of temporarily losing his footing in front of her.

“You gonna rat me out to O’Brien? ‘Cos you know as well as I do that he doesn’t need yet another reason to know he’s right.” She shifted the mop and bucket and placed them back in the supply closet before reaching for her bag again.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He moved passed her before turning to face her again. “Tell you the truth, I ghosted the last couple of tabs myself. Who knew there were so many ways to ask questions about standing in elevators?”

Sarah rolled her eyes in acknowledgement. “Yeh. I can’t wait to have the team meeting when he realises we’ve all pretty much done the same thing. That’s gonna be fun. I might finally take some of my holiday.”

“Yeh, good plan. Hey listen,” His words stopped her in her tracks, feet from the exit. “Um, I know it’s been a while but I was wondering if you might want to reschedule that tennis match some time? Or if not, we could get some dinner or something? There’s that new sushi place on Reagan Street. It’s meant to be really good if you fancy it?”

She was indeed familiar with that very restaurant thanks to the glowing reviews she had been unable to avoid since it opened. Audrey had only mentioned it a mere thousand times in her presence. Word was that bookings were now months in advance so she wasn’t sure how Greg was hoping to find a table unless he wanted to make plans with her in November. Given the number of commitments he always appeared to have going on, it wouldn’t be completely outside the realm of possibility.

“Wow, I thought that place was fully booked?”

“Yeh, it is, but I went to college with one of the investors and he’s promised me a one-off.”

Of course he did. Sarah bit her bottom lip to stop herself from chuckling out loud, imagining Audrey’s face when she would inevitably find out. To be honest, she was genuinely surprised he was still showing a minor interest in her. When she finally made eye contact with him, his earnestness was practically shining. Had he always had perfect skin?

“Um…” That was a good start, she thought.

“Honestly, it’s not a big deal if you’d rather not.” He helpfully pre-empted her awkward rejection but she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “I’ve been meaning to go is all and I knew you liked sushi and figured it might be fun? They have live Jazz on Sunday nights.”

When did he find out she liked sushi? And live Jazz? Just how much had Audrey told him about her?

Realising she probably looked perplexed, she shuffled her shoulder strap back up onto her shoulder and tried to relax the awkwardness setting in between them. It was still quiet and no one was within earshot that she could figure out of her peripheral vision.

“It’s not you, Greg, I promise. It’s just, I’m not really looking to get into anything right now. With anyone. Plus, we work together and…I’m sorry. I hope that’s OK?”

“Hey, look, I promise it won’t be awkward. There’s absolutely no expectations from me and if you change your mind, just let me know, yeh? I literally know no one else who likes Sashimi so I can’t waste my only chance to get a table.” He chuckled and she felt more at ease.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m a pretty crap date.” She smiled at him as she edged herself down the hall, putting space between them both literally and figuratively. “You wouldn’t be missing out.”

“Oh, I doubt that somehow.” He returned her smile. “I’m serious, though. Just let me know. Anytime. No expiration date.”

And with that, she had been left dumbfounded by two men in the space of a single week.

It would have been easier to get the early morning bus home at this time, as tired as she was starting to feel. She hadn’t slept well in the last few days and she had a creeping nausea from the lack of proper rest. The walk and crisp, fresh air might do her some good. It was practically full daylight even at this hour, and it was sometimes fun to watch people on their own way to work, huffing along, trying not to drop their coffees.

The out-of-town school bus passed her a few minutes out from her apartment and as she rounded the corner, she got this weird sense that someone was watching her. Another corner turned and she could see her building in the near distance. Still, she couldn’t shake it. She stopped, pretending to fumble for her phone in her pocket and turned around swiftly to see a sweaty Chris stop a few steps behind her.

It took her a moment to register it was in fact him, his beard fuller and a Red Sox cap pulled down low over his eyes. He had sweats and sneakers on and looked like he was on a run. Honestly, if someone else had spotted him from this distance, they would have worried he was going to attack her.

“Hey,” she said, turning to fully face him. “What are you doing out at this time?”

He didn’t respond at first. He shuffled from one foot to the other before grounding himself and taking a couple of steps towards her. Again, he shuffled back a step like he was rethinking his move. She didn’t appreciate seeing him like this, so unsure of himself.

“Five months out from filming some pre-shoots so figured I’d make a start.” He finally spoke. Not a really a smile but he at least sounded OK.

“Cool.” She said, nodding back at him. “Um, I’m not sure if Shanna is awake yet but do you want to come inside for some water or coffee?”

“Yeh, that’d be great. Thanks.”

She turned to continue walking on. For a few long moments, he stayed walking slightly behind her. A couple more strides and he had decided to catch up. The last time it had taken this long to walk this same street, she had been so drunk she had narrowly avoided falling into her neighbour’s front garden.

“Five months? You’re not that out of shape.” She tried to make a joke. It was the only thing she could think of. Audrey would be eye-rolling like a champ if she could see them now.

Chris knew she was trying to make small talk now so he decided to indulge her. It was a fair response, he thought - he was doing OK - as he followed her up the stairs deliberately keeping two or three behind her in an effort to keep it casual.

“Oh, y’know. I fluctuate pretty easily. A few pizzas here and there and it’s game over.”

They walked into her kitchen and she had been right in assuming Shanna was still asleep. Unless she had awoken really early but that was highly unlikely, unless there was a sale at Ted Baker she didn’t know about.

He lingered in the doorway while she searched the fridge for a bottle of water. Grabbing one from the back, she turned to hand it to him expecting him to be within an arm’s reach from her but he had been distracted by something down the hall before turning back to her. Gratefully, he accepted it and walked into the kitchen to take up his usual spot leaning against the counter.

“Sorry, did you say you wanted a coffee?” She offered.

“Nah, I’m good. Can’t really take caffeine until this afternoon.”

“Sorry. I always forget how strict it is.” She apologised, offering him a sympathetic smile.

He took a long swig from the bottle, not breaking eye contact from her. “No need to apologise. You OK? Night shift?”

“Yeh. Pretty quiet, thankfully.”

“I’ve always meant to ask but what is it like, a night shift? I can’t work out if it would be worse or not.”

She understood what he meant and laughed. “It can go either way to be honest but it’s been quiet the last few nights. Nothing crazy. I caught up with some paperwork, so…” She shrugged again, acutely aware of how boring she must sound.

He nodded at her. “Aren’t people supposed to be crazier in the summertime?”

“Well, kids are around more and families tend to spend more time together, so…”

The apartment was unnervingly quiet now which was weird. She could hear the uptake in traffic outside which provided some relief that perhaps he couldn’t hear her heart beating out of her chest. She could make out some small sweat patches on his hoodie and it did something to her that she wasn’t expecting. Shaking the thought from her head, she turned to switch the kettle off.

“What?” He asked.

She jerked her head back around to face him. “Huh?”

“You were thinking of something. Your neck just went red.” He smiled, tilting his head at her and relishing the look of surprise making its way over her features, knowing he’d caught her out.

That was news to her. She knew she had “tells” but a red neck was not usually one of them. How come no one had ever told her about this?

“I can’t tell if you’re joking with me or not.” She inquired, playfully narrowing her eyes at him in an effort to lighten the mood.

He shrugged a shoulder at her, a smirk starting to cross his fine features. Joshing with her was good. She’d take that. A small step in the right direction.

“Sometimes, it’s really obvious. You get it when you’re embarrassed about something, or when you try to lie. I’d never really noticed it before, but...” He paused. His expression started to turn more thoughtful and she wished he’d just continue to make fun of her instead.

“Guess I won’t be playing poker anytime soon.” She finished the thought for him.

“Yeh, no, you’d be rubbish at that. Just terrible.” He took another swig from his bottle and waited for her to throw something at him.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The room went quiet again. She stirred her mug of coffee and offered him another chance at one which he politely refused although his discipline was waning slightly now he could smell it.

“So this is fine.” He said after a couple of minutes, nodding in a slightly exaggerated manner. He looked out of the kitchen window. “We can do this, right? No awkwardness. No embarrassment. Just normal, everyday conversation.”

“’Course,” she nodded in agreement.

“Start as we mean to go on, right?”

She nodded again. This felt like a trap and she couldn’t put her finger on why. Chris had a knack for saying and doing two different things at the same time, an intimidating ability that often put people on edge if he thought it would serve his purpose, whatever that may be. Probably the actor in him. When you called him out, he would aggressively defend himself which only served to prove the point you were making in the first place.

Scott was the only one, truly, who knew when it was happening. It had taken Sarah years to get to a similar position but now, she wasn’t sure she was remotely close to it.

“It’s as good a starting point as any, I guess.” She shrugged again, sipping from her cup.

“So there’s no need to ignore me then.”

“I haven’t been ignoring you, have I?”

“You tell me. I’m just pre-empting it is all. I’m just saying we can still interact, you and me, if we need to. Like, it doesn’t always have to be in social settings with other people around.” He took a final drink from his bottle and turned to locate the recycling pot stashed away in the corner. Even with a mundane task, he always looked cool doing it.

“So don’t worry about it.”

“Alright then. That’s good to know.” She shot him a raised eyebrow which he caught and returned with a sly smirk. “I’m just trying to be sensible. We have to get this right or else there’s no point.”

“I know, I get that, too.” If he wasn’t attempting to be serious before, he was now. He had a hand on his hip and seemed to have grown a few inches in height. “What do you think I’m trying to say?”

“I…think I’m on the backfoot again and it’s weird.” She held a hand up in defence.

“Hey, I’m just doing what we agreed, OK? I’m just following your rules.”

“They’re not rules.” She struggled to regulate the volume in her voice in case she disturbed Shanna. “And you’re making it sound like I’m controlling the situation when I’m not. We both agreed on this. There’s no point being difficult about it.”

Was he being difficult? Yes. Obviously, he was. He wasn’t happy. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling but happy definitely wasn’t it. Things were out of sorts and he hadn’t been able to eat carbs or sugar for four days so the withdrawal symptoms certainly weren’t helping. He should go easier on her. She was doing the thinking for the both of them. He should learn to be more grateful for that.

He scratched the back of his head and let out an audible sigh in frustration. “I’ll try harder, I promise. We’ve got that cabin thing coming up with Mom, so…I promise I’ll be good.”

He imitated the scout salute and she smiled at him, a smile not quite reaching her eyes.

Another night shift and Audrey and was starting to get suspicious. No one willingly switched for a night shift. For one thing, there was a disproportionate amount of recovery time. A couple of night shifts often took in excess of a week to recover from; a week that a nurse definitely did not have to spare.

“He been buggin’ you?” she asked, finally growing tired of the silence.

“Who?” Sarah looked up from the cabinet. “No, not really. We haven’t really spoken.”

“So why are you ignoring him?”

“I’m not ignoring him! Why does everyone think that?”

“Who’s everyone?”

Crap. Audrey had her there. Sarah open and closed her mouth without a sound coming out. She took a breath. “He’s not bugging me. He’s not. I’m just trying to limit the times we’re in the same place at the same time.”

“Huh, you’d think he would at least allow you to have peace in your own home.”

“Well, to be fair, he hasn’t been around all that much, but…at least I don’t have to worry about him showing up unannounced. It’s stupid but I feel way more awkward about him than I thought I would. It’s like I can’t even stand to be under his gaze.”

Audrey glanced at her friend, wishing she could offer some words of comfort. Even for someone as verbose as she normally was, she was finding it a struggle. Sarah wasn’t much looking for words of comfort at the given time either. She was all too aware of the predicament she was in and how much responsibility laid at her feet. In her mind, waiting it out was the only logical solution she could come up with. The only logical solution that didn’t require more conversations with someone who could feasibly run rings around her “theory” that if they just stayed apart for a little while, they would suddenly and magically forget about the past couple of months.

They stayed filing documents in silence again, the air seemingly getting thicker.

“You ever spoken with someone and it’s like they’re thinking the complete opposite of what’s coming out of their mouth?” Sarah huffed while shoving the cabinet drawer closed.

“Not really. That person’s usually me.”

“But why?” she asked. “Why can’t you just be normal?”

“I mean, it’s not my go-to response of course. It’s normally reserved for occasions when I am trying to indulge someone because I know they’re talking bullshit. Like, when I know Mike has been gambling but he tries to deny it? It’s just easier to figure him out that way.”

Sarah froze to the spot, looking at her friend. She breathed a heavy sigh and turned to lean back on the table behind her and crossed her arms. She stared at her shoes for a second.

“Chris is a smart guy. I’ll give him that.” Audrey muttered loudly so she was sure Sarah could hear.

“Give me something! I’m your friend here.” She implored her before chuckling to herself at Audrey’s face and her own apparent lack of self-awareness.

“You know what I think? You’ve probably got withdrawal symptoms from the all the amazing sex you’ve had and now you’re sulking. I think you should get back on that horse and let him fuck you again. That’s what this is.”

Sarah eyed her friend again. For once, she would love to hear someone tell her that she was right. “That’s really not helping, y’know.”

“And this is?!” Audrey’s shriller tone cut through the dry air, smacking Sarah right in the face. “Honey, this isn’t healthy. You hiding out in the hospital and treating it like your own solace is not healthy at all. I love you but you are your own worst enemy.”

“Alright, thank you. Thank you very much. Thank you for your unswerving efforts to be honest with me at all times and not, like a normal pal, be comforting in any way.” Sarah comically bowed to her friend before considering leaving the office. She would have followed through with the idea as well if it wasn’t for the cosy warmth of O’Brien’s office versus the coldness of the ER department thanks to a leaking pipe. “It’s difficult. I’m sorry. I don’t wanna fall out with you, Audrey.”

Audrey just smiled at her. “I don’t know why you think you have to be the beacon of morality all the time, Sarah. Take a look around. No one else is. We all out here just trying to live our lives as best we can and a part of that is taking advantage of moments of happiness when we find them.”

Something about what Audrey was saying did resonate with her but comparing two months of happiness with Chris to ten years with Shanna was not something she could in good conscience do. Shanna was her security blanket. She provided a comfort of living with someone with shared life experience, of knowing how little you thought about yourself because you were given up as a baby. Honestly, from the very first day they had met, Sarah felt lucky to know her.

Yes, Shanna could be immature at times. Maybe a little selfish. She would often get carried away with trivial things and wasn’t the most reliable person, but what Sarah got in return was worth that and more. Her family enjoyed highlighting the maternal care Sarah would have to provide to someone who was seven months older than she was, but honestly it didn’t matter.

Maybe this was one of the rare occasions where Audrey was wrong.

Chris was a fling at best, Sarah told herself, when she was lying in bed struggling to fall asleep. When she was cold and missing his arms around her. They were both having shitty times and they both got something out of it. That was what Chris had said himself at the very beginning.

Chris 08.15am: You home? Shanna said you were working late again

It was like he knew she would be thinking about him.

Chris 08.17am: I really dont want u ignoring me all the time. This is hard for me right now as well

Fuck.

Sarah 08.21am: I kno. I’m so sorry I made you feel like that :(

He didn’t respond. She thought she saw the tell-tale three dots of him writing something but nothing appeared. Giving up on sleep, she got up and headed into the kitchen. Shanna had left her some bacon in the fridge and a fresh bread bun on the side so she turned on the grill and set about making some coffee.

She felt strangely awake for this time and the apartment was nice and warm from the bright sunshine streaming in from all corners. Maybe a run would help. Or a cold shower.

Chris 08.44am: I wanna be honest with u but I dont think u want that

Chris 08.45am: so what do i do??

Fuck knows.

Chris 08.51am: Can I come over?

Sarah 08.54am: that’s not a good idea

Chris 08.55am: cos you know what will happen?

Chris 08.56am: what does that tell you??

She was sure he was nursing some kind of hangover or, quite possibly, he was still a little bit drunk. There were two responses she could give, she figured. The first would be her usual denial and perhaps an excuse that she was busy or working later than planned. The second, and ultimately the one she opted for, was to agree with him.

Sarah 09.05am: I know what it tells me. That’s why I’m saying you shouldn’t come over

Another three dots followed. There was only so many times they could go around and around in circles and as much as Audrey’s words made sense to her, it felt like she had to make the effort to regain some normality.

He didn’t respond. She stared at her phone for an age but nothing came through. Maybe he got the message? Maybe he had fallen asleep. She was both relieved and suspicious; Chris wasn’t someone who backed down from an argument when he thought he was right. He had said as much himself.

She turned the grill off, having lost her appetite. A run might make more sense and could help clear her head.

She couldn’t sit around waiting for Chris to make his next move.

#Chris evans #chris evans fic #evans fic #fanfiction #clear the area #sarah bernette #chris evans x original female character

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letsgofoletsgo · 5 years

Text

A Wander Through the Weald

(Heyo! I’ve wanted to write a Postwickshipping fic for awhile now, so I hope you like it! <3)

It had been one month since Gloria defeated the “Unbeatable Champion” Leon. The greatest champion Galar ever seen had been dethroned Sometimes Gloria couldn't believe it herself. It seemed like just yesterday that he had given her and his younger brother, Hop, a Pokemon in Postwick. Gloria remembered the journey alongside her next-door rival fondly, challenging each other and exploring the region.

While she relished in her victory in the semifinals, part of her heart ached when she remembered Hop’s face. He appeared to take the loss in stride, yet she couldn't help but notice the sorrow in his eyes. He did end up somewhat confiding in her about his new sense of misdirection in a battle of all things. However, he did find a new path after aiding in the Dynamax crisis; Sonia offered for him to study and help her in the Pokemon Lab, which he accepted. Gloria was happy for her friend, and was eager to see what discoveries he might make.

The new Champion hadn’t seen her friend in weeks, and was missing him quite a bit. So she decided to drop in for a visit one warm, spring day.

“Hop! You have a visitor!”

The boy looked up from his desk. He had a textbook open and was in the middle of jotting something down. He placed down his pencil and turned around to see Gloria enter his room with a bright smile.

“Gloria!” Hop’s own face lit up as he rose and hugged her. “It’s so great to see you!”

“Likewise!” The two let go. “I haven’t seen you in forever, so I thought I’d pay you a little visit.”

“Heh, you’re right, guess you’re busy with all your fancy champion business,” he teased.

“Well, it’s more like I’ve been training to take on the battle tower for the last few weeks, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh yeah! I remember you telling me about that. You recon you’re almost ready?”

“I think so. Gotta smooth the edges a bit with my team, but I’m pretty sure we’re nearly set.”

“Sweet! Well, I wish you luck!” He smiled.

“Thanks, mate. So, since I’m not doing anything today, do you think I could pull you away from your studies for a couple hours and go for a walk maybe?”

“Oh, uh, I’d really like to, but I kinda still have some work left-”

“Don’t worry about it Hop, you’ve been working pretty hard and I think you deserve a break,” Sonia chimed in, grabbing a notebook from a shelf.

“Er- Really? Awesome, thanks!”

“Hehe, well then, it’s a date!” Gloria said cheerfully.

Hop’s heart briefly skipped a beat when she said that, and a brief blush spread across his face. He caught Sonia giving him a brief smirk before heading upstairs.

“So, you ready?”

“Y-Yeah! Totally, let’s go!” He stuttered a bit, resisting the urge to facepalm.

The two headed South from the lab, walking down Route 1. The sun shone gently along the grass and leaves, which rustled from an occasional skittering Skwovet or fluttering Rookidee. There were scattered clouds in the sky, casting long, misshapen shadows across the distant rolling hills. Wooloo were peacefully grazing or sleeping in the surrounding pens, and the two made a game of trying to count them all. As they approached Postwick, Hop began to explain what sort of things he and Sonia were studying; the key differences between Dynamax and Gigantimax, what causes a Pokemon to change form during the latter, etc. They had formed a theory that it may be related to Mega Evolution in the Kalos region. He was about to go into the genetic specifics that he knew of, when they realized they reached the gate in front of Gloria’s house.

“Ah, seems we have reached the entrance to thy Slumbering Weald,” Gloria commented poshly, to which Hop giggled. “If you think about it, our journey kinda started here, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, you’re right; remember when we saw Zacian for the first time? And you tried to fight it?”

“I do! And we were knocked out for like, ten minutes. Imagine if your brother found us like that!” She laughed.

He laughed too, yet remembered how close his face was to hers when he awoke, and could feel a pink tint return to his face again.

“So… What do you say we take a stroll through the woods again? For old times sake?” Gloria suggested.

“Sure, fine with me.”

With that, she swung open the gate and proceeded through. She then skipped on ahead of Hop, then turned back to him near the entrance, looking at him with that familiar, glowing smile.

He wished he could tell her how wonderful that smile made him feel.

“Gloria, wait up!” He stopped a moment. “Woah, where did all the fog go?”

“I guess it lifted? It does feel weird being able to see farther than five feet in here.”

To their surprise, the thick fog that normally enveloped the Slumbering Weald had disappeared a fair amount. There was still a thin layer on the ground and rolling along the tiny hills, but it allowed the sun to shine through the leaves and reflected across the dew hanging on the foliage.

“Cmon, lets see what sort of things we can spot here now that it’s clear,” Gloria piped in.

“Hey, I bet I can find more cool things that you,” He challenged with a smirk.

“Oh, you think so? How ‘bout we see then?”

The two rivals proceeded to wander about the Weald, pointing out weirdly crooked trees, large rocks that jutted out of the ground, oddly-colored plants and berries, the like. While having fun with their little expedition, Hop found his eyes on Gloria several times. He saw how face eyes lit up as she found a pretty leaf, or how she laughed as she poked a cluster of funny-looking mushrooms. He noticed how her eyes marveled in wonder as she looked inside a split tree or turned over a rock. Seeing her having fun and exploring the world around her brought a genuine smile to his face. The sun beaming onto her pale complexion also happened to complement her face wonderfully, and he couldn’t help but stare...

“Yo! Earth to Hop!”

The boy snapped out of his trance with a dumbfounded look. She rolled her eyes slightly before walking up to him.

“I wanted you to see this rock I found,” she presented a stone about the size of her palm; it has a typically craggy surface, but upon her turning it around, showed an almost rainbow-colored crystallization inside.

“Wow, that’s one heck of a geode there!” He exclaimed, admiring the hues.

“You got anything else cool yet?”

“Uhh, yeah,” Hop quickly scanned over his shoulder and dove for the nearest thing to him.

“Check out this leaf!” He brought a decaying, frail leaf to her face, and in the process half of it flaked off. The ensuing silence felt like a jab in the gut.

Gloria’s face scrunched a bit and she giggled. “You’re such a dork, you know that?” She said as she lightly hit him on the arm. “C’mon, if I’m right, I think we’re pretty close to the center of the Weald.” She turned and proceeded down the shady path.

Hop processed that moment for a second before following- caught between the fluttery feeling of hearing her laugh and mentally kicking himself for his stupidity.

After turning the bend on the faded path, he was pleasantly reminded of the splendid beauty of the hero’s shrine. The ancient structure stood in front of a still lake, only occasionally rippling gently when a wild Pokemon would take a drink. The sunbeams swayed through the leaves, rustling ever so slightly.

“You know, no matter how many times I come here, I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful this place is,” Gloria stepped onto the shrine, looking over the lake.

As much as he agreed with her, Hop found himself more entranced with the girl in front of him. Her body looked illuminated against the lake, almost as if she was a legendary herself. The boy was speechless at her hauntingly ethereal appearance, yet wanted nothing more than to tell her how absolutely, stunningly gorgeous she was.

“Hey, how about we sit for awhile?” She sat down on the side of the shrine facing the lake, hunching over a bit to look into the depths of the lake.

He snapped out of his daze once again, following her and sitting next to her. He saw how the water reflected on her hazel eyes, creating a blueish projection onto her pupils.

“Hop, is there something on your mind?” She asked bluntly. “You’ve been rather tense all afternoon.”

“Have I?” He would usually deflect with an “I’m fine”, but something felt different. He felt like this was the moment to tell her. He felt like he could tell her.

“Well, there is something I’ve been thinking about,” he began. “I know you’ve heard this from me a million times, but all my life I’ve wanted to prove I could live up to my brother, that I could be something more than him. Even after I became a trainer for real, everyone always saw me as Leon’s younger brother, the kid who aimed to beat the unbeatable champion.”

He sighed, and turned his face to hers. “But you always saw me as me. Not the champion’s little brother, not just another rival, but as me. As Hop.”

She gave him an endearing smile. “Hop, you’re one of the most fun-loving, caring, zestful people I’ve ever met. You never let anything stop you, and you greet challenge and adversary with a smile. Even when things are looking down, you don’t give up and you keep going. I’ve admired that about you for as long as I’ve known you, how could I not?”

“Heh. For the longest time, I was wondering how anyone ever could.” He admitted with a slightly sorrowful tone. “What I’m trying to get at Gloria, is… Well, I won’t lie; You’re one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”

Gloria stared at him in shock. Hop just fixed his sight into the water, afraid to meet her gaze.

“Hop, I… I don’t know what to say, I’m…” A bit impulsively, she leaned against him, causing the boy to tense a bit.

“You know, our journey across Galar, I have a lot of fond memories of it. From meeting so many amazing people, learning things about Pokemon I never would have guessed, to building and training my team, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. That journey helped me see who I am and what I want. But, thing is, you were one of my favorite parts of it too. We always helped each other, and you wouldn’t turn your back on me no matter what. You were always so excited to hurry to the next town or challenge me to a battle. You made it all so much fun. And because of that, I’d say you’re one of the best things to happen to me too.”

Hop couldn’t quite describe the feeling in his chest. It was a mix of disbelief, anxiety, wonder- but mostly pure joy. He didn’t say anything, rather just wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She returned the embrace, and sighed contentedly against his shoulder. He placed his head atop hers, nudging her green hat a bit and nestling into the scent of her soft, brunette hair.

The two remained at the shrine until the moonlight glistened across the lake, neither wanting the moment to end.

#postwickshipping #postwick #trainer hop #trainer gloria #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon SWSH #sonia #hopxgloria #gloriaxhop #hop x gloria #gloria x hop

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myheartrevealedocs · 4 years

Text

Untouchable Ch 19: True Night (S3E10)

Warnings: murder, swearing, graphic injuries, mentions of psychotic break, gang references

Ch 18 | Ch 20

~ ~ ~

“No!” Lydia exclaimed, trying to push Spencer’s hand out of the direction of the cashier. They’d decided to go out to lunch together on his day off. Lydia had just passed her gun qualifications test, which meant that soon enough she’d be back in the field and Spencer wanted to celebrate. “You can’t pay again!”

“You just finished graduate school and I work a fulltime job,” he argued. “I’m paying.”

The woman behind the counter laughed slightly and grabbed Spencer’s credit card before Lydia could push it aside again. “I gotta agree with him, hun. Little things like lunches add up when you’re trying to pay off student debt.”

“But what of my ‘Spencer’ debt?” she replied.

The woman just giggled. “You two are adorable, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Lydia smiled at her and ran off to find a table, leaving Spencer to mumble an awkward ‘thank you’ before following her. He wanted to appreciate the compliment more, but it threw him for a loop. He’d recently been thinking a lot about how he and Lydia acted around others and, more importantly, the team.

Spencer never imagined being a part of such a strong relationship. He’d never thought he’d be so comfortable with another person that they’d tease each other at a cafe or that strangers would find their behavior adorable. And after his first date with Lydia, he knew he’d do anything to get to this point.

Not telling the team was an attempt to protect his fragile heart. It had already gone against his common sense by falling for Lydia in the first place. But now… he loved her so much. He would let her break his heart into a million pieces, then leave it on the floor for the team to step on as they walked past. He would happily let the whole world know if it meant he could hold her hand on the jet. He might even consider letting the Bureau fire him for keeping secrets from them, just so long as the two of them were together.

But was it fair to ask of her? After she spent so long protecting their secret for his sake?

“What’s up, Spencer?” Lydia asked. He’d just reached the table, but had yet to sit down with her, instead looking out the window with unwavering concentration.

“Hm…?” he responded, still not processing her concern, so she grabbed one of his hands and pulled him into his seat.

“Tell me what’s got you distracted,” she demanded.

His eyes went from the window, to her, to the window again, trying to make up his mind.

“I can’t stand this secrecy thing!” he finally blurted out. “I thought it’d be fine because I’m a great liar and- Why are you laughing?!”

She tried to hide her smile behind her hand, but it wasn’t exactly easy to play off a laugh. “Sorry. I just think you’re so modest,” she replied, sarcastically. “Please, continue though. You’re a ‘great liar’ and…”

He was clearly not expecting this reaction from her. “And… And well, I just… don’t want to lie about this anymore,” he admitted. “I want to be able to talk to you in the office without raising suspicions. And I want to hug you and hold your hand without worrying that someone we know will see us.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“...okay?” He blinked. “You aren’t upset that I’m the one to-?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re okay with us just-?”

“Yep.”

Wow… he really hadn’t expected this reaction from her.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“Spencer, I honestly don’t care. But are you sure? Because having a girlfriend is going to open you up to a lot of teasing from the team,” she warned him.

He waved an arm dismissively. “I can take them.”

She raised an eyebrow, watching him relax back into his normal self. It’s silly, she thought, the things that make him anxious. But she was relieved it wasn't anything serious. The thing with Spencer was sometimes the little things seemed huge and the big things he thought he could handle alone.

“So, we’re going to do this?” he confirmed.

“We’ll start with Hotch,” she reasoned. “And see what sort of agreements we’d have to make to be in an office relationship. Then, we can decide how to announce it to the rest of the team.”

He agreed, a smile spreading across his features. “It’s stupid, but I feel like I won’t be able to wait that long. Even after all the time we’ve already spent pretending there was nothing between us. I feel like I’m going to see you in the bullpen one day and just kiss you in front of everyone.”

She rolled her eyes jokingly. “You’ll be fine. If I see you going in for a kiss I’ll dodge.”

The image of her ducking away from his affection in the middle of the office had them both cracking up and they had to recover quickly so they wouldn’t get kicked out of the place.

~ ~ ~

They had planned on telling Hotch Friday morning, but Lydia ended up being called into the office for a case before that could happen. And it happened to be so severe that she was on a flight to Los Angeles before she really knew what had happened.

“You should have listened to me,” Spencer argued as Morgan, Lydia, and him got out of the SUV and onto the street. As she walked, her arm hit the holster on her belt multiple times, not used to having the bulky object at her hip.

“It wouldn’t have saved that much time, Reid,” Morgan snapped. “Let it go.”

“The interchange between the 405 and the 101 freeways is consistently rated the worst interchange in the entire world.”

Morgan took in a large breath. “Why do you know that?!” he accused.

“It’s a government report.”

Lydia burst out laughing.

“So, what?” Morgan cried.

“So, you work for the government,” Reid continued. “What, you don’t read the reports?”

As they argued, the three of them walked underneath the tape and onto the scene itself.

“On traffic patterns in a city 2500 miles from where I live?”

“2295 miles-”

“Don’t make me smack you in front of all these people.”

“Derek, you know not to estimate around Reid,” Lydia teased. “He doesn’t understand anything but the specifics.”

“I understand th-”

“I’m Brady, LAPD,” a man said, cutting Spencer off from defending himself.

“Derek Morgan,” the older man greeted, shaking his hand, then pointing to the other two. “Dr. Reid and Dr. Ambers. The rest of the team is in an SUV behind us.”

“Yeah. Stuck in traffic,” Reid snapped, looking at Morgan before realizing now wasn’t the time. “Uh, so you had two more victims last night?”

“They were discovered a little after 3:30 by a cleaning crew finishing up in the building,” Brady explained.

“So that’s seven victims over the past two weeks,” Morgan said and the detective nodded.

“Bodies are in the alley. What’s left of them.”

“Same victimology?” Spencer asked as Lydia stepped past them, pulling out a pair of gloves.

All they could determine about the kill method was that their unsub was using a bladed weapon. Something long, like a machete or sword, which wasn’t very common. During the flight, they’d determined they were looking for one guy, suffering from a psychotic break. It was the only way to explain the overkill, the locations, and the weapon. But it was hard to look at the victims and imagine one guy could have done this.

Both men were mutilated. Their chests had been sliced through multiple times, making their torsos look almost hollow. One’s arm was multiple feet from the body. The other had almost been separated at the waist.

Blood was splattered across the buildings surrounding them and it flowed from the bodies into a nearby sewer grate. At this point, both men were practically dried up.

“What do you see?” Morgan asked as he stepped up behind her.

“Same type of victim. It’s either gang retaliation or someone who wants to clean up the streets.”

“That’s too organized,” he argued. “Unsubs that are going through psychotic breaks don’t plan like that.”

“Well, clearly there’s a pattern here,” she argued, pointing to their hoodies, tattoos, chains, and clothing. “He’s not killing businessmen or waitresses or anything in between. He’s got vengeance on his mind.”

~ ~ ~

“Not good,” Lydia mumbled as she walked onto the next scene the following day.

The unsub had actually gone to the house of the gang leader, Glen Hill. There were 6 bodies, each more brutal than the last.

She stepped around the scene carefully, the blood pooling around the victims like auras.

“T.S.K.?” Hotch asked, pointing to the graffitied letters on the walls.

“Twenty-third street killers,” Brady informed them.

Rossi picked up a gun. “Looks like they tried to fight back.”

“They failed,” Spencer said.

It was hard to differentiate the blood with the spray paint splattered against the walls, but Lydia did her best to analyze the drops and determine where the victims had been standing when they were hit.

“So, what do we do now?” the detective demanded.

“We’re already doing it,” Rossi informed him.

“An unsub in a psychotic rage stands out,” Spencer explained.

“Agent Jareau’s got the media playing the press conference every hour,” Hotch continued. “She’s putting the profile out to the public. Someone in this man’s world knows he’s in crisis. Hopefully, they'll recognize the description.”

“Hotch,” Emily called from the next room. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Lydia was on his tail, following Prentiss out back, where a small trail of blood was leading from the door, to the side gate, then disappearing on the sidewalk. From the marks in the grass, it looked like a body had been dragged. Not only were they looking at 6 murders, but a kidnapping as well.

~ ~ ~

By that afternoon, they were bringing a suspect into custody. A man named Jon McHale. He was a graphic novelist, who’d been attacked by Glen Hill’s gang a few months ago, resulting in the death of his girlfriend.

A few people had shown up to the station to explain situations they’d been in with him over the past few days. His manager was concerned for his health, saying that he kept calling Vickie, his dead girlfriend. Some of his fans had watched him flip out when he showed up to a book signing. And one dude hit him with his car when he ran out into the middle of the road and when the man went to check if he was okay, Jon almost choked him to death.

As they took him into the station, Lydia helped Hotch and Rossi bag items from his apartment to be used as evidence. He had all sorts of violent storyboards, some which reflected their crime scenes to a T. There wasn’t a doubt in their minds that they’d found their guy.

“Can you go get the mugshot of Glen Hill?” Hotch asked Emily as they got back to the station.

“Yeah,” she replied, dropping the boxes of drawings on a nearby desk and disappearing.

Hotch turned on her. “Lydia, did Gideon talk to you about speaking to unsubs undergoing a psychotic break?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I want you running point with him. Command his presence like Frank. Keep him on track. We’ll get answers.”

Hotch left to explain the plan to the detective, leaving her to prepare herself for the interview. Gideon warned her that it was difficult to talk to unsubs like Jonny. His trauma was causing him to do things he’d otherwise be disgusted by. Before all of this, he was a good person and without the mental fracturing, he still would be. But the only way to get answers from him would be to put him under complete stress.

Lydia handed her weapon to Spencer, giving him a small wave goodbye. He looked nervous, but she didn’t dwell on it. Her only concern now was speaking with Jonny.

She led in the group, dropping the mug shot of Glen Hill that Emily had printed in front of the young man, then sitting across from him at the table. “Hello, Jonny. My name’s Lydia,” she said, curtly. “Do you know who that is?”

He shook his head. “Why does this have anything to do with me?”

“That’s Glen Hill,” Hotch said to her left.

Rossi took the right. “He’s missing.”

“You think I know where he is?” Jonny demanded.

Emily walked in, setting one of the boxes from his apartment down in front of Lydia.

“Six months ago, he and his gang victimized you and your girlfriend, right?” Brady asked.

Jonny’s head dashed wildly between everyone in the room, trying to keep track of them. “What?”

Lydia snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Jonny, look at me.”

“They attacked you on the street,” Emily continued, grabbing his attention once more.

“No.”

“And you couldn’t identify any of them after you got out of the hospital,” Brady said.

“Look at me,” Lydia insisted once more. She knew that the feeling of being surrounded was freaking him out enough. With everyone making accusations, if she made it seem like he wasn’t allowed to answer them, it would drive him even more insane. “Don’t worry about him.”

“This is crazy,” he said, looking at the photos in front of him. She could hear his handcuffs rustling against the table. He was trying to break away from her.

“I believe you're suffering from a post-traumatic form of a psychotic break,” Hotch told him, setting his hands on the table to lean over him and feel imposing.

“Psychotic?”

“And you have been for weeks.”

“Come on.”

“It’s possible you don’t even know,” Rossi said, once again forcing Jonny to turn fully around and look at him.

“How could I not know?”

Emily set down a storyboard in front of him. It showed two figures, mutilated in an alleyway, their killer standing above them with a sword. The whole scene was black and white, except for the pure red blood that ran down the gutters and towards the sidewalk.

“That’s a page from something I’m working on,” he told them.

“We know,” Lydia said, letting Emily drop another picture in front of him, this time an above shot from the scene she’d arrived on yesterday. “This is a murder scene from two nights ago.” She pointed between the bodies, both laid out in the same fashion. “Are you seeing any similarities?”

“You were there,” Rossi claimed. “Yesterday. I talked to you.”

“We have photos of you,” Emily continued.

He shook his head, pointing at the picture with his free hand. “Wait. This is real?”

“These are members of the twenty-third street killers,” Brady said. “Glen Hill’s gang.”

Emily continued setting out photos, one of Hill’s house, the other a matching drawing of McHale’s.

“And there were six gang members murdered in that house last night,” Hotch explained.

“No. No, this can’t be. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“This house belongs to Glen Hill. There was a trail of blood leading out the back door. We believe that you took Mr. Hill with you when you left.”

“These are just drawing-- my imagination,” Jonny argued.

Rossi sighed. “Severe PTSD is not uncommon for victims of violent crimes.”

“Victims?”

“You’re bleeding,” Emily noticed, pointing to a spot on the left side of his ribcage.

“It looks like a grazing gunshot wound,” Rossi accused

Hotch leaned over him threateningly. “Did they shoot you last night?”

“Look, stop it! I would know if I’d been… a victim!”

“Do you remember being in the hospital?”

“I was never-” The sound of his handcuffs got louder as his stress level increased. He was pulling away from them.

Rossi threw down a file in front of him, flipping through it as he talked. “That’s your medical report. They cut you open, Mr. McHale! You were nearly eviscerated.” He lifted up the boy's shirt to reveal a long scar through his abdomen. “They said it was a miracle you lived.”

“Miracle?” he demanded. “You think living was a miracle?”

He was breaking. Put some more pressure on him, and they’d get their answers. Hotch and Rossi took over, throwing questions around back and forth.

“All your drawings reflect actual crime scenes. All of them but one.”

“Where is this crime scene, Jonny?”

“Is this Glen Hill?”

“Where is he? Where’s Glen Hill?”

“Jonny, look at me!” Lydia insisted one more time.

“No!”

At his scream, Jonny finally ripped his right arm away from the table, splintering the bar the handcuffs were attached too. Noticing his escape, the whole room jumped to subdue him, but not fast enough. He got in a solid swing across Lydia’s face, knocking her back, her hands covering her cheek protectively.

“No! No!” he kept yelling. “You don’t know what’s out there! No one knows about the night!”

Hotch and Brady got ahold of Jonny’s arms, Emily pushing him back into the chair.

“We don’t want to hurt you, Jonny.”

“It’s okay, son,” Rossi tried to calm him. “It’s okay.”

They’d done it. He was remembering what had happened to him, what he’d done. But it didn’t make watching him any easier.

“Lydia,” Hotch called, not turning away from their suspect, “are you okay?”

“Yes, sir.” She stepped up, standing over Jonny, so that he could see her blotchy cheek and come to terms with what he’d done. “Jonny, you aren’t healthy.”

His eyes scanned her face, before he shut them tightly and started to sob. “I couldn’t help her.” He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. He was talking about Vickie, his girlfriend. “They made me watch.”

“I can help you,” Rossi said. “If we can tell the court that you told us where Glen Hill is-”

“They made me watch!”

“I know. I know. They’re animals.”

“You were sick,” Hotch told him. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”

The memory of his confrontation with Glen Hill was too much for Jonny. He could barely speak.

“Where’s Glen Hill, Jonny?”

He sobbed, his body shaking for several minutes, before he broke, giving the address to the group. Emily dashed outside to find Glen Hill, but they all knew he was dead. There was no way Jonny would have been able to stop himself from completing his revenge.

Brady started to recuff Jonny, taking him out of the interrogation room and into a holding cell, Hotch on his tail. Rossi stayed behind to help Lydia pack up all the evidence they’d used during the interview.

“You’re good,” he complimented. “Sorry you got the short end of the stick today.”

“It’s fine.” Lydia rubbed her jaw, sorely. “I deserved it.”

“For what?”

She shrugged, grabbing the box and starting to leave. “I know we had to break him. But no one deserves to relive traumatic events against their will.”

“You sound as if you speak from experience.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “It’s not really fair to profile someone who can’t profile you back, hm?” Then, she stepped outside and came face to face with Spencer.

“What did he do to you?” Spencer demanded, his hand already reaching for her swelling cheek.

“It’s fine,” she breezed, hearing Rossi exit the room behind her. “He had a mean right hook. I antagonized him.”

“I’ll get you some ice,” he said, leaving before she could argue.

“Maybe it isn’t fair,” Rossi mumbled from behind her. “But you make it so easy.”

Lydia just laughed at him.

~ ~ ~

“You found one of Jonny McHale’s books?” Lydia asked as she sat across from Spencer on the jet. She still had an ice pack pressed against her cheek at his insistence and the whole side of her face was starting to feel numb.

He looked up from his graphic novel. “Yeah! It’s called Blue. It’s about a girl who thinks she’s a real human being, right? But it turns out she’s a robot that was built by her uncle.”

“So it’s Pinocchio,” JJ reasoned as she passed the two of them.

“Yeah, it is like Pinocchio,” he laughed. “Only, uh, it’s set in a high school in outer space.”

She made an amused face and kept going, sitting with Rossi and Emily.

Spencer turned back to her, that special sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, did you know that Carlo Lorenzini, the guy that wrote Pinocchio, was said to be obsessed with the human nose? As a matter of fact, Pinocchio wasn’t even the first character of his to feature a large nose- How’s your cheek doing?”

She chuckled, having seen his sudden change in topic from a mile away. “It’s fine. It will probably be nice and swollen by the time we get back.” She pulled the ice pack away to reveal a splotchy pink and purple mess. “What’s your analysis, doctor?”

He leaned forward, examining it teasingly. “Hm… Looks like quite the injury. You must be very brave, doctor.”

They laughed until they heard Morgan walking past, talking irritably into his phone. “Just leave it alone until I get there. Hey. Hey! Hard-head! Don’t make me spank you when I get back.”

Spencer, who had already stuck his nose back into the graphic novel, immediately spoke up so that the person on the other line could hear him. “Don’t listen to him, Garcia. He’s all talk.”

Instinctively, Morgan smacked him across the back of the head and kept walking.

“Ow!” Spencer cried over Lydia’s laughs. “Stop laughing! He just hit me.”

Lydia handed him the ice pack. “Poor baby,” she cooed. “Why don’t you put some ice on it and it will feel better?”

“I hate you,” he grumbled.

~ ~ ~

Once they were back at headquarters, Lydia told Spencer it was now or never. Nodding her head, she ran up the catwalk to Hotch’s office, slipping inside casually.

“Lydia? How may I help you?”

She held up a finger and they stood there silently until Spencer also walked through the door, shutting it behind him awkwardly.

“Reid? What’s this about?”

Lydia stood in front of his desk, clasping her hands behind her back. “This is where we tell you something you already know and you act surprised about it.”

“Got it.”

“...We’re dating.”

“I’m shocked,” he responded, completely deadpanned.

“Is there some kind of office relationship… whatever that we need to fill out?”

“You don’t work in this office, Lydia, so not exactly. But you do work for the Bureau which means they have to know. I’ll do some research into it and get back to you. My best guess is Garcia will have to put it into our system and you might be required to agree to certain terms. At worst, they might have someone come in to question you and determine whether or not your relationship will affect your ability to work together, but I doubt it, seeing as Lydia isn’t an agent.”

“Thank you,” Lydia breathed. “I was worried this would be a big mess.”

“I think Reid here was ten times more nervous.”

She smirked at her abnormally silent boyfriend. He was completely frozen, staring at Hotch with a pale face. “I believe he was.”

“I should warn you,” Hotch continued, “that if this had been going on for much longer than two weeks, you could get in trouble for hiding pertinent information from the Bureau.”

“Two weeks, then,” Lydia said.

“Two weeks,” Spencer repeated.

“Good.” Hotch looked down at the file on his desk. There was silence. Then, he furled his eyebrow, glancing back up at the two of them. “You’re free to go.”

“Right,” Spencer squeaked, grabbing Lydia’s hand and pulling her to the door, as if Hotch would change his mind if they stayed any longer. “Going.”

Tags: @kris-stuff, @wooya1224, @arthurmorrgans, @anotherr-fine-mess, @eddysocs

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