#I actually planned on taking a small break from drawing after finishing my comms but here we are

[artvaris]

Another character sketch

[damagedintellect]

Klance pulled from the Vault

💌 Can’t Break These Cuffs: Chapter 1 💌  

Summary: Takes place during S1 E8, Keith tries to unchain Lance from the tree but somehow cuffs themselves together and are stuck like that for three days or at least that’s what Rolo “said” but there’s something about the way Pidge and Allura are exchanging glances that say otherwise.

Notes: Someone might have done this by now but I’m still going to do it. I’ve been writing this for over a year and it would be a shame if I never posted it. -2017

Look I wrote this in 2016 and never finished it and here I am in 2023 finding it in the very back of my google doc. I remember laughing so hard when I thought of this idea but I was always scared of the fandom so I never posted any of my klance wips. Back when I started this I planned for 3 chapters. I would have to rewatch all of Voltron to finish this but if enough people scream at me to, I might. Although after proof reading this holy shit has my writing style changed over the years. I promised to drag a wip out of the vault for 200 followers so I did my part 07

💌 Word count: 7,990 💌  You are here | Next Chapter =>

“Keith! My man, I thought you were actually going to leave me here.” Lance cheered still laying on the ground chained to the tree. He was smiling like an idiot as Keith sighed, crossing his arms. He didn’t even want to know how Lance managed to get himself chained up in the first place, but he always found it amusing to see Lance end up in situations due to his own stupidity. This would be the perfect time to mess with him, like draw on his face or something. Keith really didn’t know why he felt the impulse to do something to Lance so he shook the feeling off.

“I thought about just leaving you but unfortunately we need your sorry ass.” Keith knelt down to look at the cuffs. “OOoou~ just my ass or my-” Keith tuned Lance out so he could concentrate because he had no idea what he was doing and he was not about to tell Lance that. He fiddled with the cuff until he heard a click and it released one of Lance’s wrists, retracting the yellow energy beam around the tree. Keith was about to start on the other cuff when it latched onto his wrist instead.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.” Keith tried clicking all the same buttons he did the last time but nothing was happening. He frowned, furiously clicking every button but still nothing happened.

“Keith what the heck are you doing! I’d rather be chained to the tree.” Lance started flailing his arm around trying his own way of getting it off. It didn’t work of course but he had to try, all it managed to do was irritate Keith “Would you stop that! It’s not helping.” Lance stopped flailing for a moment instead opting to glare at Keith before he started biting at the restraint like a wild animal. Lance was just being dramatic not actually thinking it would work.

 “Seriously?” Keith grumbled trying to pry the idiot from the metal contraption as Lance only shot him another glare, “Yes, because I’m out of ideas and it was worth a try.” Lance stopped and looked away from Keith folding his arms dragging Keith’s along with him. Keith pulled his arm back and stood up, “Look I’m sure Rolo and Nyma can tell us how to get this unlocked. We just have to deal with this for the time being.” Lance rolled his eyes and grabbed his helmet while Keith activated his comm, “Hey guys, we’ve got a small problem.” Keith pulled Lance in the direction of Red as they heard Shiro respond, “What is it now?” Keith sat down as Lance was forced to cram himself in the small cockpit and watch him pilot Red back to the castle. “Well-“

“Keith cuffed us together and can’t fix it!” Lance yelled out in frustration.

Lance pouts, of all people it had to be Keith, with his stupid smug grin and his oddly calming aura and his pretty but poorly styled hair and his beautiful purple eyes, like seriously how is that even a thing and his - wait why was he thinking about this again? Oh yeah because Keith has this weird way of pushing his buttons without even trying. Lance sighed glancing back at Keith, yeah I’m screwed.

Meanwhile Pidge and Allura turned off their comm’s and laughed, “I say we keep them like that until they can get along.” Allura suggested as Pidge just held their side snickering at the thought of that. “Please, I don’t even think they could last one day.” 

Shiro didn’t know what to say, it would definitely help the two grow. “Keith does need to learn how to bond and trust Lance and Lance does need to get over his stupid hate rivalry, but wouldn’t that be too, what’s the word, malicious? At the same time it would be beneficial to the team as a whole.” Shiro broke from his thoughts pausing his inner monologue to finally address the issue.

“Oh my god I’m actually considering this as an option” Shiro was shocked with himself and how he wasn’t opposed to the idea. Allura smiles “Hunk what do you think?” Hunk shrugs “I mean it couldn’t hurt but I say the moment they try to actually kill each other we stop.” Allura nods “So then it’s settled no one tell them the cuffs can be removed and we just let it play out.”

 Pidge stopped laughing now that it was actually happening “What if we need to form Voltron?” Allura thought for a moment “If things get that bad then we’ll take them off but I’m sure we’ll be fine. I also believe we shouldn’t have to rely on Voltron to solve all our problems unless necessary.” Which was true. 

Red landed shortly after their conversation ended, all of them in agreement that this was for the best and if they wanted to bond as a team Keith and Lance had to suck it up for the time being. Keith and Lance made their way to the group, both clearly annoyed at the situation at hand. The group was quiet just staring at them. 

“So how do we get this off?” Keith was the first one to speak but everyone continued to exchange glances as Shiro cleared his throat “How do I put this lightly.” Pidge rolled their eyes “You don’t, it’s time locked.” Pidge inwardly groaned there was no way they were going to buy that, like seriously? Time locked? What kind of bullshit would be able to stop them from getting it off.

Lance and Keith looked at each other than at Rolo, who wasn’t too sure what was happening but was willing to play along anyways “I’m surprised you even managed to take one off for a few seconds.” 

Lance threw his hands in the air “You mean we’re stuck like this!” Pidge walked up to them “inspecting” the cuff “Nyma originally set it for 3 hours but to me it looks like now it’s set for 3 days.” 

Keith's eyes widened “Pidge can’t you just take it off?” Hunk lifted his hand to contribute. “Rolo said if you try to take them off they will start to tighten and even if you do manage to cut them they’ll…they’ll combust.” Hunk hoped he sounded confident enough for them to believe it. He felt bad he would have to lie to his friends but if it would get them to stop hating each other then it was worth it. Keith and Lance swallowed hard and looked at each other, they were literally stuck like this for the next three days.

With everyone back at the castle Lance and Keith were sitting on the steps as they talked about how to save the Balmara “And yes blasting.” Keith said using his free hand to gesture to Hunk who looked concerned “Are you sure you guys can do this I mean what if we need to form Voltron?” Lance and Keith looked at each other and shrugged “Maybe it would be better if we waited. The castle’s defenses are still damaged from Sendak.” Shiro suggested but they both stood up

“If-“

“We-“

They were surprised they spoke in unison. They exchanged glances and Lance motioned for Keith to continue since he probably would word it better. “If we wait any longer they’ll know we’re coming and have time to prepare.” Keith looked back at Lance “Yeah, I was going to say that too.” It was silent again, they didn’t need to look up to know that everyone was looking at them.

“Dammit why did we have to get stuck together” Keith thought to himself. Shiro sighed “We’re not going to make you guys do anything you can’t handle. If you feel like you both could handle piloting and fighting as one unit-“

Lance laughed “I know I can, I don’t know about Keith though.” Keith shrugged “Well then whose lion are we taking?” Shiro looked to Allura “I think that’s something you both need to decide.”

“Red”

“Blue”

Their heads shot up and they stared each other down “Red.” “Blue!” they pressed their foreheads together “We are taking Red. Red’s faster and I have better control while piloting.” Lance rolled his eyes; he didn't deny that.

“Yeah but Red is smaller than Blue, we both could barely fit the last time and I’m not about to sit in your lap.” Keith pulled back, Lance was right. He would hate to just sit and watch Lance have all the fun piloting but he would also hate to make Lance practically sit in his lap. Wait, did he sit in his lap on the way back to the castle? Keith couldn’t remember he was too busy thinking about a way to get out of the cuffs. He didn’t want to make things awkward between them, Lance already hated him for some reason and he didn’t want to make things worse. “Fine, we'll take blue.” But Keith had a bad feeling about all of this.

Keith’s feeling was right, it sucked. He felt useless just sitting there watching Lance pilot but he felt even more useless in close combat. His freehand was his less dominant hand but somehow they managed to get through it without getting injured or killing each other. He’d also hate to admit it but Lance wasn’t half bad under pressure. He was actually really good with planning ahead, who would have thought. Keith also noted that he was a really good shot. It could be because he never really observed him during training but there was something about the way he looked when he lined up a shot that made Keith feel, um feel, there’s a word for this feeling but Keith couldn’t quite think of the word. It made him feel like he, uh, didn’t dislike him? Keith couldn’t put his finger on it. Admiration was close but maybe too sentimental? He wasn’t sure, but whatever the case it didn’t matter at the minute.

With the mission over everyone had some downtime before dinner. Lance and Keith started walking in opposite directions when they felt the tug on their arms and they both groaned “I was going to the training deck, where were you going?” 

Lance didn’t turn to face Keith but Keith could see his whole body slump “I was going to take a shower but I forgot we were still a package deal.” He forced a laugh and Keith felt bad. Lance hated him and now he was forced to be around him more than usual. “Well it has been a long day” He could actually go for a shower. For some reason he was sweating more than usual. A shower between teammates wasn’t awkward right? Like Lance wasn’t going to kill him for suggesting they actually do it right, shower that is. Why was Keith so flustered right now? He mentally slapped himself for dwelling on this more than he should have.

“Okay, we could do that.” 

Lance was shocked to say the least. He wiped his head around a red tint graced his cheeks “How!” Keith was taken aback “What do you mean “How” we both just-“ Lance stopped him right there “No like how are we supposed to get our clothes off, we’ll blow up!”

Meanwhile somewhere else in the castle Pidge, Hunk, Allura, Shiro and Coran were having a secret meeting. “So do you think they actually bought the whole “If you tamper with it, it will explode” act?” Obviously it wouldn’t but Hunk just kind of blurted it out. He didn’t like the idea of lying to his friends so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. He was still surprised that they went through a whole mission with little to no problems at the Balmara.

“Lance probably bought it, Keith might be skeptical but wouldn’t risk it.” Shiro said still in disbelief that this will work the way Allura assures him. He knew Keith had a thin patience not to mention they both had the inability to back down from a challenge. Yeah they are going to kill each other. 

“So we are really going to let them stay like that. What if they really needed to be separated for some reason?” The group heard footsteps down the hall before Keith and Lance burst through the door and in unison say “We need to get these things off, now!” Allura crossed her arms leaning back, she rolled her eyes and thought “Oh what is it now”

“We can’t get out of our uniforms if our hands are stuck together!” Lance very animatedly flailed about making Keith almost lose his balance. Everyone exchanged glances then looked to Pidge nervously “Ugh Fine, I’ll try but I’m not a miracle worker.” Pidge pretended to look at the cuffs and tamper with it. Rolo had already explained how it works, faking it wasn’t that hard. That was until she clicked something and it short circuited for a moment causing a small puff of smoke to seep out of the cuffs. Lance and Keith both jumped ever so slightly and Pidge wiped the sweat off of her forehead “I may have just added a day, but I think I got it to unlock for 5 minutes every two hours.” 

Lance hugged Pidge “Ooh you nerdy genius you!” He let her go and she fixed her glasses “Yeah yeah, it’s set to happen on the hour, but they will reattach after 5 minutes no matter how far apart you are. Don’t ask why because I don’t know.” They seemed to buy it and Lance asked “What time is it now?” Coran looked at the console “2 before the hour” The two nodded to each other before running off.

“Run faster or we won’t make it!”

“You’re the one lagging behind Mullet!”

As soon as they were out of earshot Pidge fell to the floor laughing “Oh my god they are both idiots! I can’t believe that worked. I can’t believe they bought it!” She grabbed her stomach because it started to hurt “Until we need to form Voltron I suggest we leave them to work it out themselves.” Allura concluded. Shiro just hoped she was right, maybe he would check on them later. With the meeting over and everyone seemingly on the same page, they left to do whatever it is they do in their free time.

Lance and Keith were still running down the hall “Whose room are we going too?” Lance said as they took a hard right. “Yours, it’s closer.” Lance sighed in relief he would be able to use his face scrubs to help him relax and distract him from the fact that he was going to shower with Keith. He wondered if Ke-

He was broken from his thoughts when he ended up running face first into his door. The cuffs were detached and Lance didn’t notice that Keith stopped running to wait for the door to open. “You okay?” Keith asked, he was inside the room already peeling himself out of the suite. Lance rubbed his nose “Yeah I’m fine.” He stood up glancing at Keith’s bare chest “Better now” he mumbled under his breath. His face was red from hitting the door but he could feel the blush rushing to his cheeks. Keith wasn’t built like Shiro, his muscles were lean and Lance thought that was just as sexy, shit why did he care. He should be getting out of the suit.

In the meantime, Keith was already starting the shower. He could not believe he was doing this. He was about to shower with Lance. What the hell did he do in his past life to deserve this? Was it because they weren’t on good terms since they had a fight the other day and the world has a sick sense of humor. Actually no, when were they not fighting or should he even call it fighting. Keith sighed at least the shower was big enough for two.

Lance put out clothes for him and Keith but it looks like they’re going to have to share a towel. Great sharing, probably the one thing about home he didn’t miss. Lance started daydreaming about home when he felt a strong tug on his wrist making him stumble over the armor on the floor. He was pulled into the shower face to face with Keith

“Oh, uh” They both looked down at the cuffs “I guess it’s been five minutes.” Lance coughed out trying to fight the urge to look Keith up and down. He wasn’t gay or anything but why waste the opportunity while it’s here. Lance tried to assure himself of this reasoning. That’s when Keith moved out of the way so that Lance got hit by water making him jump.

“What the hell! Why is the water so cold!” Lance forced himself to push through it to change the temperature. “Cold showers are better for your body, it helps with your metabolism. I don't see what the problem is?” Keith just shrugged running a hand through his wet hair 

“You’re supposed to start off with hot water to open your pores! Do you know nothing of skin care?” Keith just rolled his eyes as Lance splashed him with the now really hot water “Jesus Christ that burns!” Keith tried to cover his face but Lance splashed him again and grabbed it “Aren’t you supposed to be like the spirit of fire or something? Anyways do you ever wash your face, all I see is filth. Your pores are calling out to me to save them from this life.” Lance was only inches away from Keith, his eyes analyzing every nook of the barely shorter paladin's face.

“That’s the lion and I’m pretty sure if you poured hot water on anyone’s face they would react the same way.” Keith finally pushed Lance away attempting to grab the space soap but Lance swatted at his hand “What is it now Lance?” Keith said flatly as Lance smeared his face wash all over Keith before doing it to himself.

“My shower, my rules now scrub.” Keith rolled his eyes and did what he was told. He still couldn’t believe he got himself stuck to Lance and they successfully completed a mission stuck like this. This was real life and now they were showering together, this was thing that was actually happening. Keith continued rubbing the face wash in his face when Lance doused him with ice cold water.

“Oh so now you use cold water.” Keith grumbled he was not ready for the temperature change. He kind of liked the hot water, it was relaxing. “Yeah, we got the filth out of your pores now we close your pores to prevent filth from getting back in.” Lance said it so casually Keith was questioning who this guy was and what did he do to Lance. To Keith, Lance knowing something was a foreign concept all he ever saw the blue paladin do was flirt with most anything with legs 

“Why do you know this?” Keith thought out loud by accident.

Lance continued his face wash routine “I grew up with three sisters, don’t you have any siblings?”

“I-um, outside of Shiro, actually does Shiro even count, we're technically not blood related but he’s the closest thing I have to a sibling I guess.” Keith looks at Lance who was clearly lost “I’m an orphan.”

“Oh” was all Lance said. He didn’t know that, but somehow everything makes sense. Seriously this explained a lot about Keith. He was alone. This is why he’s so socially awkward. He never had a family to argue with, he never had to care for anyone other than himself especially when Shiro went missing. He never got the opportunity to be close to someone. Lance kind of feels bad. His family was everything to him and he couldn’t imagine a life without them.

... a life without them .

With Lance deep in thought neither of them spoke for the rest of the shower. Lance gave Keith the towel and started to get changed “I set some clothes out for you unless you want to head over to your room to get changed.” Keith thought about it for a moment and looked at the cuffs. “We still can’t put shirts on so there’s no point, I’ll just wear this.”

Lance grinned to himself the pajama pants. They were a little big on him and he was only an inch and a half taller than Keith so the hems were dragging on the floor but what he was really grinning at was the lion slippers. Man did he love those things because they can make anyone look cute.

While Lance was too busy standing there smiling like an idiot he didn’t notice Keith was staring at him too “Why are you looking at me like that?” Lance looked up “What, oh it’s nothing let's go get dinner.”

As they made their way to the dining room, it was pretty clear that everyone was staring at them and Keith was amazed that Lance didn’t make any comments about it. This was Lance we were talking about he always had something to say. It was weird having him be quite. Keith looked at everyone else. Something felt off to him, maybe it was because he was not used to everyone staring at him? He couldn’t put his finger on it and just ate his food goo with no trouble at all already adjusted to using his off hand.

He started hearing muffled snickering followed by faint laughter causing him to look up. Allura and Pidge were trying not to laugh because Lance was having a hard time using his less dominant hand. Lance continued trying although clearly frustrated with himself for being unable to handle a simple task, it made Keith smile. It was adorable and made Keith feel warm inside, wait did he just think that Lance was cute. Lance threw his spork down and started yelling at Pidge to stop laughing, he had some food goo on his cheek and Keith had half a mind to wipe it off for him. Half a mind, the other half was arguing with himself over such stupid thoughts but he did want to see Lance flustered more. Teasing Lance was everyone else's pastime. He should try it. He grabbed the spork and shoveled the food goo in Lance’s mouth forcefully.

“Some of us want to eat in peace.” 

Red tinted Lance’s cheeks as he pulled the spork out of his mouth. “Well some of us are having problems! Why aren’t you having issues with this? Isn’t that your non-dominant hand!” Lance flailed about trying to draw as much attention away from the blush on his cheeks as he could.  

Keith shrugged, “I don’t know, I guess I got used to it, it’s not that hard.” Lance’s eyes narrowed “Got used to it!” He opened his mouth to continue his rant but Keith shoved another spoonful causing the other to choke slightly. “Stop doing that!” Lance glared at Keith who tried to not to laugh at his pain. He made no attempt to hide his grin though.

“Stop complaining. It can’t be helped, so shut up and take your food goo.” Keith held another spoonful in front of his face while Lance just turned his head to the side “No, we are not doing this!” Allura and Pidge were having a field day finding it hard to contain their laughter. Shiro already left and Hunk was getting seconds paying no mind to what was going on.

“Lance come on, I just want to be done with this too but I can’t leave until you eat.”

Lance could not believe this was happening. Keith was feeding him. Keith, who never paid any mind to him at the Garrison, was currently willing to feed him. What kind of sick twisted dream was he having and why was he not waking up. Actually this whole day kind of seems like a sick twisted dream and Lance was torn, he wanted to wake up but a part of him hoped this was real. He kind of liked the attention and sure Lance had wanted Keith’s attention but not like this, or did he. His head is starting to hurt between trying to use his off hand, yelling at the girls and sneaking glances at Keith’s abs when he wasn’t looking. He couldn’t think straight.

Keith could not believe he was doing this, and he was what’s the word, enjoying it? He had no idea why he was enjoying it but he was. This was stupid but it made Keith smile. By now the girls had lost interest and everyone had left and it was just them.

Lance finally gave in. “Fine, feed me but never speak of this again.” Keith snickered “What about tomorrow? We’re stuck like this for what, 3-4 days?” Lance groaned “Don’t remind me.” This time Lance ate the spoonful “God this is embarrassing.” He mumbled more to himself as Keith shook his head “No, what’s embarrassing is accidentally chaining yourself up to someone you’re trying to free.” 

Lance grins and looks away “Not even, what’s embarrassing is getting yourself chained to a tree.” Keith laughs

“Yeah, you got me beat there.”

Lance stood up triumphantly “I finally beat you at something!”

“Are you really sure you should be proud of that?”

“Absolutely not but it’s the one thing I got.” Lance chuckled at their stupid game. 

Keith rolled his eyes “I’m cuffed to an idiot.” Lance playfully smiled “And it’s all your fault.”

Keith frowned standing up to clear away the plates “So now what?” Lance asked not really sure if he would even get an answer. He was right, he didn’t get an answer. Keith just started walking, dragging him along. Keith probably wanted to get a shirt Lance looked down. He forgot he didn’t have a shirt either. He was surprised he wasn’t cold, he wondered if Keith was cold. He looked at Keith’s bare skin, it looked really soft. A click echoed through the halls as they reached Lance’s door. Keith kept walking probably to go to his room.

Lance sighed, what was he thinking? All day he’s been thinking about his little rivalry attitude he had with Keith. Was it really a rivalry he felt towards Keith? Lance walked into his room and put his shirt on. It’s not that he hated Keith, far from it but he couldn’t explain it. He just assumed that since he craved his attention it was because he felt like he wanted to one up Keith but now he didn’t think that was the case. Was it ever the case? He laid down on his bed as he thought about it. He abruptly sat up when it finally dawned on him.

“OH SHIT!” Lance sprung to his feet pacing about his room. He was running his hands through his hair muttering something incoherent in Spanish.

“ No, no esto no puede ser. Esto no puede estar bien yo no, ¿verdad? Mierda cuando hizo este comienzo!” [No, no this can't be. This can't be right I don't, do I? Shit when did this start!]

Lance stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed Shiro in the doorway.

“How long have you been there?” he pinched the bridge of his nose as Shiro walked into the room to sit on his bed.

“Long enough to know that you are not okay.” Shiro softly patted the space beside him hoping Lance would sit down and talk about it.

Meanwhile Keith walked past his room for the third time, lost in thought. He cursed under his breath and finally walked into his room. He needed to put a shirt on before the cuffs locked again. He was still thinking about why he offered to feed Lance, was it really to shut him up? No, he got a kick out of seeing Lance flustered. What? No, no he didn’t! Keith threw his shirt on and grabbed his pillow. Once again his mind drifted to Lance. He shoved the pillow into his face shouting a string of fucks into it. He didn’t know why these thoughts were popping up. For the most part Keith could shrug these thoughts off because these feelings were just a hindrance to him but right now it was all he could think about.

“UGH STUPID LANCE AND YOUR STUPID FUCKING FACE!” Keith looked up from the pillow hoping it wasn’t as loud as he thought it was. He looked at his blanket contemplating whether or not he should take it with him. He did get cold at night even with the blanket but tonight he would be sleeping with Lance and he wasn’t sure what the protocol was when sleeping with another human being. Should he take it? He groaned, why was this situation so frustrating? He frowned and was about to go back to Lance’s room when Shiro appeared in the doorway.

“I went to check on you in Lance’s room but you weren’t there. Are you okay? It sounded like you were screaming.”

“Shiro, I’m perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine.” in the back of his head he was screaming about how he was not fine but he couldn’t let Shiro know that. He knows that would only make him worry and that was stress that he did not need. “Are you sure? You know you can confide in me for anything. Even something Lance related.” Keith crossed his arms “And just what is that supposed to mean. Why would it be Lance related?”

“All I’m saying is that you two are stuck together for 3 days there’s bound to be something bothering you and it’s likely to deal with Lance.” Shiro put a hand on Keith’s shoulder “I’m just tired Shiro. It’s been a long day and-” Keith felt the tug on his wrist and suddenly he was being dragged down the hall by the cuff until he crashed into Lance.

Lance grabbed at his head while Keith followed suit “Wow, Pidge was not kidding about reattaching no matter where we are.” Lance realized he was on top of Keith and stumbled to his feet avoiding eye contact.

Shiro was a few feet away still outside of Keith’s door. He smiled at the awkward scene in front of him and decided he should leave them be. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually.” He thought and walked to the training deck. At least now he didn’t have to worry about them killing each other.

They walked in silence back to Lance’s room. Neither of them wanted to be the first to say something but as they stood at the front of the bed. They kind of just looked at each other wordlessly.

“You didn’t bring your blanket?” Lance raised an eyebrow. He didn’t care one way or the other; he was just trying to start a conversation to get rid of this awkwardness. Keith threw his pillow down and grumbled “I didn’t exactly have time to grab it being pulled out of my room so suddenly.” In the back of his mind he thought “I knew I was supposed to bring it too! Damnit!”

“Well I mean it’s fine we can go back if you want.” Honestly Lance wanted him to say no because he didn’t want to run into anyone else.

 “Nah, I’m too tired. Let’s just sleep.” He nodded and they turned off the lights and went to bed.

Okay maybe it wasn’t that easy. Keith was lying on his back with his free hand behind his head while Lance was lying on his side facing Keith. Keith had his eyes closed and Lance tried really hard to keep his eyes closed. He really did but he couldn’t help it. This is part of the reason why he slept with an eye mask on. He’s always had a hard time falling asleep even when he was a kid. Lance was one of those people who stayed up thinking it happened as long as his eyes were open. It didn’t help that he didn’t have his music to drown out the thoughts either. He looks back at Keith, he looked so peaceful. Was he already asleep? Lance slowly raised his free hand to wave it in front of Keith’s face. No reaction.

“Lucky bastard.” Lance thought to himself as he looked at the cuffs. They were the weirdest piece of tech ever. You know what it’s space of course there was going to be advanced tech but these things were absolute bullshit. He tried to close his eyes again but his thoughts were flooded with the smiling faces he left behind on earth. His mom, father, his sisters and heck even his brothers, annoying as they were, he missed them. He missed home. He looked up at the ceiling. Lance could feel tears starting to well up in his eyes.

“Get it together Lance, you’ll wake up Keith.” He was pulled from his thoughts when he remembered “Oh yeah” He looked back at the sleeping form next to him and then passed him. His eye mask and headphones were on the nightstand. Lance could probably lean over Keith ever so slightly. His attention was once again on Keith.

 “Hey Keith” said softly and paused waiting for an answer. “Are you asleep?” He took the silence as a yes and took a deep breath. He was going to do it. Lance slowly shifted, repeating “Please don’t wake up.” To himself as he leaned over Keith’s unconscious body. He was almost about to grab the objects in sight when Keith shifted underneath him. Keith’s free arm found its way around Lance’s waist pulling him flush against the other. Lance was so close he could almost touch them if Keith would just let him go he’d be home free. Lance tried to push Keith away but that caused Keith to roll over nuzzling his face in the crook of Lance’s neck.

“K-Keith!” He squeaked having trouble breathing. Keith was a lot heavier than he looked. Lance was starting to panic. Keith was way too close and Lance’s neck was very sensitive. He bit his lip as Keith muttered something against his neck, still clearly asleep. The vibrations gave Lance chills. 

“P-Please, K-Keith you need to get on your side of the bed.” He said it kind of loud while still trying to push him away but it didn’t work. Lance was stuck and Keith seemed to be a heavy sleeper. Lance soon calmed down realizing Keith was not going to wake up. He was stuck in his arms but at least they were warm and comforting. Lance needed a hug anyways and as long as Keith wasn’t awake for it he could indulge in it as long as he wanted.

“Fuck it, I give up.” He stopped trying to push the other away and gave into the embrace wrapping his free arm around Keith. “It’s been a long day, I’m tired and if you try to kill me tomorrow it’s all your fault.” At least Keith wasn’t conscious because Lance would probably be freaking out more than he already was internally. All of that aside it was the best night of sleep he’s ever had.

By morning Keith slowly opened his eyes to wake up although he didn’t want to. He was so warm and comfortable. Opening his eyes was a bad idea so he immediately closed them.

“Please be a dream”

He opened his eyes again, nope it wasn’t a dream. He was in fact cuddling with Lance. Keith wanted to stay like this but what if Lance woke up. Things would be awkward, well more than they already were. He carefully detangled their limbs and looked Lance over, he slept with a soft smile on his lips. God did he want to kiss him. What? No, bad Keith, stop it! It’s too early to have these kinds of thoughts. Keith slowly leaned down but stopped.

Lance started to stir, about to wake up. On impulse Keith laid back in the position he remembered falling asleep in pretending he was still sleeping. Lance opened his eyes, rubbing them before he registered his surroundings. He shot up and choked out a frantic

“What-wait-how-but…I thought!” Lance growled to himself frustrated. Was last night all in his head, did he dream it?  No he didn’t even fall asleep until after the fact. He flopped back down making a disgruntled sigh as he hit the pillow, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure about anything anymore. “Was this even real life”

“Do you have to be so loud in the morning?”

Lance jolted back up “Oh so THAT, you heard!” referring to last night when he halfheartedly tried to wake the other up. Keith stretched, yawning “What are you talking about?” Lance groaned

“Never mind”

Day 2 seemed to be just as uneventful as the first. Thankfully they didn’t go on any missions but Coran had put together some stupid training simulators for them to run through. The simulators themselves were pretty cool; it was just the fact that Lance and Keith had to do it together as one unit that pissed them off. They probably would have done fine alone. They just couldn’t agree on anything. Each of them believed their plan was way better than the others.

 Everyone else had completed the first simulator with ease while Lance and Keith had to run it again for the third time. Shiro observed them closely on their first run and it was apparent that they were treating it as a competition to see who could take out the most enemies, not even focusing on the objective. Not to mention that neither of them were listening to the other. Shiro got an idea and turned to Coran, they were both in the control room overseeing yet another failed simulation.

“Coran, do you mind if I try something?” Coran motioned for him to step up to the control panel. 

“By all means, I’m sure you will be able to motivate them.” Shiro looked and sighed, they were fighting again over whose fault it was that the simulation ended. Shiro was surprised, they seemed to be doing well last night but for some reason this morning they had been at each other’s throats more than usual. Shiro only wondered what happened. Where did all this tension come from? Maybe chaining them up together was a bad idea. Shiro fiddled with the simulator, setting it up slightly different than it had been for everyone else, he only hoped that this would work.

“You guys are going to run the simulation one more time but this is how it’s going to go.” Shiro started off, hearing the two complain but he ignored it. “One of you will run through it blind with the other to be your eyes. You will have to depend on each other and listen to one another.”

Lance and Keith looked up to the control room both not too thrilled to run it again. “You can’t be serious, Shiro, please tell me you’re kidding.” Keith did not want to rely on Lance especially when his life could possibly be at stake. Even more so because Lance was the one who died in the last simulation. 

“We couldn’t even do it with our eyes open and you expect us to run it blind.” Lance was sure this was going to crash and burn.

“Keith, you will be blind first, so listen to Lance and Lance, Keith will only know what’s happening based on what you tell him so be specific. I’ll switch it halfway through but remember your partner’s well being is your top priority.” Shiro turned off the comm and started the simulation. Pidge and Hunk joined him in the control room “Do you think this will work?” Pidge questioned as Shiro rubbed his face “I sure hope so.”

The simulator was a simple game of capture the flag but on one of the Galra ships. First you had to figure out where the flag was, get it without being captured or heavily injured and take it to the rendezvous point. Simple enough right? When Pidge and Hunk ran through their sessions they were able to hack a few of the centuries to get access to one of the control rooms and found it that way. They had it easy. Not to mention that they both knew something about technology. Keith thought he did and well, you see where that got him. Tied to Lance. The first run they did Keith and Lance rushed nearly every room hoping to find it off of sheer dumb luck. It wasn’t the best idea but they almost immediately set off alarms and drew too much attention to themselves. They really had no choice but they were arguing about whose fault it was and why they couldn’t find it. Then Keith attacked everything in sight, much to Lance’s dismay, being that he had a range weapon and Keith needed to be up close and personal. Lance didn’t like how they bum rushed every sector just for them to be nowhere near the flag.

Back in the current simulation Keith’s visor went black, Lance was now his eyes. They were crouched behind a crate and Lance was peeking around the corner looking down the hall. “Lance what’s going on.” Lance put his hand over Keith’s mouth as a pair of Galra soldiers walked by. Lance leaned into Keith’s ear, or where his ear would be if he wasn’t wearing his helmet “Keep quiet and follow my lead. We’re going to tail these two guys.” Keith could barely hear him but he understood more or less what they were going to do “How am I supposed to follow your lead if I can’t see what you’re doing.”

 Lance looked at their cuffed hands and got an idea “Here.” He held Keith’s hand “One squeeze means right, two means left. Stay low and try to keep up, we're losing them.” Lance checked if the coast was clear and then pulled Keith down the hallway.

At first Keith thought it was really weird not being able to see anything but now he found it even weirder. Lance was holding his hand and he couldn’t even see what kind of expression he was making with his face. He couldn’t even make sure that it was in fact Lance that was holding his hand. Keith was frustrated because he secretly really wanted to hold the idiot's hand but he couldn’t think of how to go about it. This was partially the reason he was being reckless, attacking everything earlier. That way he could justify holding his hand with the excuse that the cuff was hurting his wrist when he fought, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually do it and that really frustrated him. Now here they are holding hands and Keith couldn’t even enjoy it because he wanted to be the one to initiate it. Lance squeezed his hand and Keith’s heart jumped, okay maybe he could enjoy it a little.

Lance was glad Keith couldn’t see, he was smiling because he was a genius. Ever since last night’s unexpected cuddle session, real or not, he thought about what holding Keith’s hand would feel like. It’s weird how something so small like holding hands could feel really pleasant. They turned the corner and Lance could see the two walk into a room. Lance slowed down making sure no one was around as they crept outside the door. Keith just stayed quiet seeing as there was not much he could do. All he could do was listen.

“Are you guarding the flag today?”

“Nah, it’s being transported to sector 7. I’m supposed to head to sector 4 after this file runs.”

Lance looked back down the hallway, the coast was clear. He pulled Keith along to try and figure out where the heck sector 7 was. They ran down the hallway to the left 

“We need to find sector 7 and I have no idea where that is.” Lance said as they turned another corner waiting for some centuries to pass by so they could make a clean getaway. “But I think we’re getting close because there are more guards, you should get your bayard out.” Lance kneeled down to peek around the corner as Keith materialized his bayard “You better have a good plan because we sure as hell can’t rush in this time.” 

Lance got his weapon out too “No idea, I’ll just try to make sure we’re at a distance. Get ready to run, I have to let go of your hand.” To aim his blaster, he needed both his hands. They haven’t drawn any attention to themselves so far but it looks like they can’t avoid it forever. The halls were getting busier and there were less areas to hide. It seemed like they were in sector 7 or at least he hoped so. “We’re going in, there's a small group ahead but I think I can take’em out before they get to us.”

 Lance ran in shooting, he hit several before his visor turned black “Shit!” He slowed down only to have Keith speed up sword at the ready “Lance two at three o’clock!” Keith was happy he was able to see now especially since combat was definitely his bread as butter. Lance shot blindly hoping he hit them he couldn’t tell. He heard metal hit the floor and was jerked forwards by his arm “Good now, run we got company!”

Hunk and Pidge were surprised it seemed to be going well. With how Lance was able to get the intel and Keith being able to give callouts while fighting they made a pretty good team and the best part was they weren’t arguing. Shiro smiled and he was pretty pleased with how things are going now that they were playing to their strengths. They were able to obtain the flag but they’ve accumulated quite the army after them.

“Just keep shooting behind you! We’re almost home free!” Keith yelled before his vision went black again “Dammit Shiro!” They both kept running and Lance grabbed Keith’s hand again. There was a at least 10 centuries blocking the way and they were aiming at them but not shooting. Lance didn’t want to fight his way through the barricade instead he smiled to himself. This reminded him of that one time in middle school when he played baseball, he knew exactly what to do “Run faster and get ready to dive and slide!” Keith grinned and picked up the pace waiting for the cue

 “Now!”

 This was probably the greatest thing that Lance had ever witnessed. He took a moment to committee this to memory as his eyes played everything in slow motion. It was like Galra bowling and they just got a strike straight into the rendezvous point. The simulation ended and Lance stood up double fisting the air.

“PLEASE TELL ME YOU GUYS SAW THAT!” He started jumping about completely forgetting that they were still holding hands. He paused, relaxing his arms down and he looked at their hands taking a moment to register. “Oh, uh” Lance reluctantly and very awkwardly let go of Keith’s hand painfully slow. With his free hand he scratched the back of his neck and looked away. “S-sorry, I uh- yeah.”

Shiro and the others walked up to them shortly after “See what happens when you listen to each other? Now why couldn’t you guys do that on the first run.” Shiro smiled and his plan actually worked. The handcuffs were actually bringing them together.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

now that I got it

Happy Christmas to my most wonderful girlfriend @spiky-lesbian who I just love absolutely to pieces. 

please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

Follows on from my Jupeter high school au fic!

-----

Nureyev is eager to take his relationship with Juno further, now that they're both out of high school and have their own place.

But for someone who prides himself on being the smartest, most well prepared person in the room, dealing with your first time having sex can be a challenge...

-----

It helped if he thought of it like a mission. Though Nureyev had to admit, he’d never had a mission that required this particular set of tools.

He planned it all out in his head, down to the moment, the way he’d been taught. Even in the weeks he’d had since that part of his life ended, he hadn’t lost the skills and they helped keep him calm now.

Not that he had any reason to be nervous. He didn’t.

First, the lights. He dimmed them as much as he could, relying heavily on the light from the street outside when he realised they really only had the one naked bulb overhead. But there were the battered old electric candles, left in a kitchen drawer when he’d moved in, clearly meant for the many nights when the power went out in Oldtown. Arranged nicely on the wardrobe and the bookcase and the nightstand, they did help fill the room with something approaching an atmospheric glow.

Next, the flower petals. He only had a loose handful, fair enough, gathered sneakily from the wilting bouquets outside of a flower shop from a nicer part of Hyperion. But when he spread them out sparingly enough, around their bed and leading up to the doorway, it did look romantic. More romantic than the socks and papers and balled up, half finished job applications that scattered the carpet previously had, anyway.

Then...well then there was everything else. He’d done plenty of research, of course, he wouldn’t attempt a mission without research. But still, when he’d found himself actually in the drugstore, looking at the rows and rows of products, he’d found himself grabbing the first things that seemed to fit his description and bolting.

Not that he had any reason to be nervous. And so he wasn’t. He told himself that as he arrayed the small bottle of lube that was supposed to smell like strawberries and the box of condoms on the nightstand.

And finally there was his outfit. When he imagined how he would like to dress for this, he only came up with things that definitely had not been part of his wardrobe when he’d packed for his undercover mission to Mars. It had all been very sparse and functional, nothing remotely silky or satiny or lacy. And he definitely did not have the funds to acquire anything like that.

But that had never stopped Peter Nureyev before.

Looking at himself in the mirror, the nerves that definitely weren’t there retreated slightly. He’d gone for red silk, thinking it would match his favourite colour of lipstick, black lace edging the hem. Now it was actually on him, he had to admit it was a little too big on him, slipping down further than he’d imagined it would, the straps always seeking to slide down the hard angles of his shoulder and collarbone. But he made himself stand as tall as he could, which was really quite far, put a hand on one skinny hip, flip back the feathery fall of his hair and give the mirror a sultry, cherry lipped smile.

And the nerves that weren’t there were less there.

Smiling a little now, the thudding of his heart now feeling like something more exciting, Nureyev crossed to the bed and tried to lie out across it in a tempting fashion. He tried a few, actually, cycling through some that felt suitably tempting, copying some streams he’d seen during his research. Not that he’d watched much of them before throwing his comms to the foot of the bed and hiding his burning face in his hands.

Finally he decided on sprawling across the pillows, leaning back on one hand, one leg bent. That felt salacious enough, though his hand would start to go dead if Juno didn’t walk through the door soon. Which he should do in approximately three minutes. Nureyev had worked in some time for rush hour traffic, which always seemed to be at its thickest when the Academy let out.

He could imagine Juno’s eyes, so tired after a day of training, lighting up when he saw him. He could imagine his jaw dropping and his eyes sparking with lust, his boyfriend pouncing on him in a fit of passion straight out of some classic Earth bodice ripper, making wild and passionate love to him. Precisely as planned.

Exactly when his thoughts turned muddy and formless, Nureyev didn’t know. All he did know was the next thing he was properly aware of which was Juno standing over him, smiling bemusedly and gently shaking his shoulder.

“Uh, hey babe,” he grinned, the electric emergency lights flickering on his teeth, “Did you mean to fall asleep?”

“Oh for crying out loud!” Nureyev bolted up with indignation, so quickly that if his boyfriend wasn’t as quick as he was, he’d have been in for a nasty headbutt, “This was not in the plan!”

“The plan?” Juno blinked, eyeing the now fairly wilted petals and the candles before his eyes snagged on what Nureyev was wearing and stuck there firmly, “Oh…”

Any confidence he’d once felt evaporated quickly, Nureyev pulled his knees to his chest quickly as his skin flamed, “Um...I...I had an idea...but I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep, it wasn’t supposed to happen…”

“An idea,” Juno repeated slowly, spying the condom and lube, the pieces visibly clicking into place inside his brain, “Ah. Right. I get it.”

Nureyev groaned, head falling into his hands, “I know you said we wouldn’t do it until I felt ready and now I’m eighteen and I did, I promise I did, but when I was getting everything ready and trying to make things good and nice, it all just felt so scary even though I was ready and then I tried to surprise you and I messed it all up even through I planned it out and now...now…”

Juno gave a rough chuckle, wrapping an arm around Nureyev’s shoulders, “Now you’re going to take a breath. Because jeez, babe…”

Nureyev did, inhaling deeply and giving a long, shaky exhale, “Juno, I’m sorry…”

“Hey, come on,” Juno shook his head firmly, “You don’t have anything to apologise for. And quit thinking of it like a mission!”

Nureyev pulled a face, “Perhaps not the healthiest…”

“If you were nervous you could have just told me,” Juno pressed a kiss to his cheek that tasted of bad coffee but was needed all the same.

“I just feel silly sometimes,” Nureyev groaned, “You’re so much more confident with this than I am, you know so much more than me and it’s the same for everyone else! I’m the one that's behind.”

Juno paused a moment, a smile tugging at his lips, “Well...I can’t rig up a disguise to pass completely unnoticed in a Saturnian ballroom. I can’t scale a sheer wall. I’ve never even travelled off planet, let alone across half the system by myself. I can’t knife fight a guard twice my age and win without breaking a sweat. I can’t break into an office in the dead of night and hack my way into a computer system.”

Nureyev shifted, smiling despite himself, “ And with a broken heart.”

“Yeah, that too,” Juno laughed guiltily, smiling crookedly, “So yeah, this is one thing you’re not as experience with. But you’ve been living a really different life to me so you’ve had different experiences. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I suppose...thank you, darling. That does make me feel better.”

“Good,” Juno grinned triumphantly, kissing him again, “So if you want to get changed into something comfy, just order take out and watch dumb cartoon streams in bed like every night then thats exactly what we’ll do. But if you want to have sex and you really, truly feel ready then we’ll do that. Because honestly...babe, you look ridiculously hot in that.”

Nureuev burst into giggles, “Really?”

“I mean, you do in pretty much everything. But yeah, in that? You’re a knockout.”

“Well…” Nureyev grinned, tucking some hair behind his ear coyly, “I...I did think I rather suited it.”

Juno smiled softly at that, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He was making something of a habit out of it.

“You know, why don’t we try something that’s not as...involved as what you were maybe planning. But something I still really think you’ll enjoy,” he murmured low in Nureyev’s ear.

“I like the sound of that,” he nodded, shoulders relaxing, eyes sparking with interest.

He allowed Juno to press him gently back against the bed so he was flat on his back, shivering happily as he moved quickly to swing a leg over his hips and cover him almost completely. He loved to have Juno so close, so the whole universe became his roughened hands on Nureyev’s shoulders as he slid the straps of the neglige down to bear the top of his chest, the warm breath of his kisses across his collarbone, the coffee and soft powder shampoo smell of him, his hips pressed against Nureyev’s own.

“Do you want to know what I’m gonna do?” Juno whispered against his skin, “Or do you want the surprise?”

“Surprise me,” Nureyev answered immediately, eagerly, always unable to resist any kind of gift anticipation.

Juno chuckled, “Just say if you want it to stop then…”

They’d made out before of course, Nureyev was familiar and comfortable with this. Hands had slipped down the front of trousers, mostly his own into Juno’s in a surprising application of his pickpocketing skills, there had been a few intense and breathtaking orgasms, a few tears he’d been mortified by at first until Juno had kissed them from his cheeks and promised everything was okay.

But Juno drawing back, moving down to settle between his legs, was new. Drawing him close by the thighs, sliding his long, pale legs over his broad shoulders, was new. Nureyev felt the skin down there prickle at the closeness, at Juno’s soft exhalations against him.

“Oh…” he gasped.

“Still okay?” Juno murmured, eyes soft in the low light. Nureyev didn’t doubt for a moment that he would stop if he asked. But stopping was the last thing he wanted right now.

“God, yes.”

Juno smiled before dipping down between his boyfriend’s spread thighs and, Nureyev could have sworn, was still smiling as he ran the very tip of his tongue between them. He felt his back arch and his thighs tighten around Juno’s head, his curls raising goosebumps.

“Oh fuck…” he whimpered, the only thing he could think to say as Juno began to eat him out in earnest.

The slightest flicker of his tongue wrought screams from Nureyev, the barest nudge of his nose against his cock made him clutch at the sheets under him hard enough to tear them. One arm thrown haphazardly over his face clenched tight into a fist that would leave little half moon indentations in his palms the next morning, his feet flexed and trembled with some frantic current borne entirely of Juno’s expert attention.

It wasn’t the most drawn out session in the world, Nureyev coming hard with little warning after only a minute or two, but it wasn’t as if either of them were keeping track. However long it was, it would never feel like long enough.

“Nureyev?” Juno panted, rising up on his elbows to grin smugly at his boyfriend, his chin shining with something slick that mortified and thrilled Nureyev in equal measures.

He didn’t answer, just dragged Juno up to kiss him hard, with all the surprising strength in his thin arms. Juno gave a half laugh against his lips, answering back with so much enthusiasm that it completed the ruin of his boyfriend’s lipstick.

“You know,” he murmured, when they were both too exhausted to do anything but lean nose to nose and catch their breath, “You didn’t need to do all this to make me want to have sex with you. I love you anyways. You know that, right?”

Nureyev curled up against him, threading his arms around his chest, “Yeah. I know. And I love you too.”

And he meant every word.

[willow-salix]

Here's this week's #FABFIVEFEB from the prompts by the awesome @gumnut-logic. This is all about the Scott, and I loved writing this. This bad boy topped out at 5,110 words, I don't know where they all came from apart from the fact that it was pancake day yesterday and that was all I need for the vision in my head. I used all the prompts somewhere (even if they are a little vague) except glow.

"Scott?" Alan whined from his position slumped over the kitchen table, his arm up to speak into his comm. "Can you make me some pancakes?" 

"No I can't, sorry, I'm just too busy, " Scott's distracted voice floated from Alan's wrist. 

"Oh come on, you make them the best."

"I don't have time."

"But Selene said it's pancake day in the UK, it's tradition."

"No, Alan, I'm waiting for Brains to finish that modification to Thunderbird One so I can test her out and make sure she's still operational for rescues as well as the Zero-XL."

"But he won't be done for ages…"

Scott declined to answer, cutting the call. 

Alan huffed, sat up and crossed his arms angrily. All he wanted was to spend some time with his brother like they used to. Scott made the best pancakes in the world, he could flip and land them perfectly, any shape, any size and they always came out golden brown and fluffy.

He'd been dreaming about those pancakes, remembering how their dad had patiently tried to teach them all how to mix up the perfect batter, how to test the heat of the pan and how to flip them just right. 

Virgil and Scott had mastered the batter instantly, seeming to have a knack for measuring by eye and mixing it with a hand whisk. John had taken his time, insisting on noting down the exact weight and measurements of each ingredient as Jeff had added them and then using the blender to make it as smooth as humanly possible. Gordon and Alan had shared a bowl, which has descended into chaos as they had both tried to add ingredients, ending up with a lumpy, eggy, sloppy mess. 

Virgil's pancakes had been nice enough, a little messy around the edges, a little abstract but edible and easily flipped with a spatula. John's had been perfectly formed equal little rounds of fluffy goodness, small enough to flip with a spatula and stack easily. Alan and Gordon had dropped many, burnt a few and had a couple still raw. But Scott's had been perfect. He had flipped them as if he had been doing it his whole life, an easy wiggle and flick of his wrist and up they had sailed, executed a perfect 180 and landed back in the pan with a gentle splat. He had experimented with different flavours, adding chocolate chips and different sauces to various degrees of success but always perfectly cooked. 

Over the years the duty of making pancakes for breakfast on a weekend had fallen to Scott and their dad, the two tag teaming, perfectly synchronised, Jeff mixing and plating them up, Scott pouring and flipping. If Scott was in a particularly good mood or had time to spare he would try to make the pancakes in simple shapes, a fish for Gordon, a rocket for Alan, a star for John. It didn't matter what the shape was, he always managed to flip and land it without trouble. 

After Jeff had disappeared Scott had continued to make them for any family that was home, it had been a tradition for so long that they had clung to it, it was familiar, it was comforting and they had needed that more than ever. 

Over the years as International Rescue had gotten busier, their days more unpredictable and their weekends almost non existent their breakfasts had trailed off and then stopped all together. 

Alan hadn't realised how much he missed them until he'd woken up with a craving for Scott's special toffee apple pancakes, made with applesauce and chunks of fresh apple mixed right into the batter and toffee sauce drizzled on top. He could practically taste them. 

They had all been so wrapped up in the Zero-XL building and the possibility of finding their dad that they had barely spent any time together, it felt like they were growing further apart rather than closer together as they should have been. They were about to reunite their family, to be complete for the first time in eight years but Alan couldn't help that he was a little worried. What if things changed? What if their dad wasn't the man they all remembered? It had been hard to lose him but they had all come to terms with it, had each learnt to accept it in their own way and now he didn't really know what to think. Their world was about to change all over again and, much as he hated to admit to himself, he was nervous. He craved something normal, something solid and dependable. He wanted his big brother. 

"What's up puddin'? Why the long face?" Selene wandered into the kitchen from who knew where, her face full of concern. "You OK, boo?" 

Alan nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. 

As always, Selene knew exactly when he needed a hug, even though he would never ask for one, and pulled him into her arms. 

"Talk to me, precious." 

He wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning his head against her shoulder, allowing her warm, comforting presence to surround him. She held him tight, not making any move to let go, something he loved about her. There was never any time limit to a Selene hug, none of that brief embrace then let go as soon as you could rubbish, she'd happily stand there for an hour if that was what you needed. More times than he cared to remember he'd found himself leaning against her on the couch, allowing her to wrap an arm around his shoulder and draw him into a cuddle that could last the entirety of a film. Selene he felt safe talking to, she never judged, he didn't feel like he had to be manly with her, to act mature or hide anything from fear of upsetting or angering her. 

"Scott won't make me any pancakes." Just saying it out loud sounded stupid, like all that was wrong was the fact that he was hungry and wasn't getting his own way. He didn't want to sound like a spoiled brat. "I mean, I wanted him to make them with me, like he used to, but he's too busy. He's right, I shouldn't have asked."

Selene sighed, hugging him tighter. "No he's not, darling. He's not too busy, he's hiding away. And you were right to ask." 

Alan lifted his head to look at her, confusion written all over his face. "Scott's hiding? What for? Scott doesn't hide, he faces everything." 

She shook her head. "No, he doesn't, that's just what he wants you all to think, especially you."

"Why me?" 

"Because you're his baby brother, he wants you to have someone you can look up to, someone dependable and in control, even if he doesn't always feel that way on the inside." 

Alan snorted. "I doubt Scott feels that way, he's so sure about everything. He has a one track mind, get the Zero-XL finished, find Dad and everything will be fine." He pulled out of her embrace and sat down on one of the kitchen stools.

"And are you not sure about his plans?" 

Alan scowled as she zeroed in on the problem with that uncanny ability of hers, not needing him to even voice it. She stared right back at him, face neutral, waiting for him to elaborate. He picked up a spoon that had been abandoned on the counter and fiddled with it, needing something to do with his hands. 

"I don't know." 

She waited some more, leaning patiently against the sink, giving him the time he needed to collect his thoughts and choose his words. 

"What if everything is different after? Not in a good way I mean. Everyone is so desperate to have Dad back and so sure that it'll be brilliant, and I think that too, but…" 

"But there's a little part of you that is scared and worried that he won't be how you all want him to be?" 

He nodded, relieved that she understood exactly what he meant. 

"No one else thinks that way. Just me. Because I'm the youngest and because I don't really remember him that well. It's like…"  he paused, unsure if he could say the words. But this was Selene he was talking to, she would get it. "It's like he's a character from a favourite film, one that's so familiar it's like they are part of your life, but they also seem so abstract, like you know that they aren't actually real. Does that make sense?" 

"Perfect sense. And believe me, you aren't the only one feeling this way. Scott's been in charge of this family for a long time, in charge of International Rescue and everything that comes with it, this is his baby as much as it was your dad's. And John, he is happy and content with his work in Five. You know he loves coordinating and bossing you all around, he loves to organise and prioritise each call that comes in. He told me that before your dad disappeared all he did was field the calls and relay them to base so your dad could make all the decisions. That's going to take some getting used to and some toes are going to get stepped on, there will probably be arguments and compromises will be needed. But it'll all come in time. I haven't spoken to Gordon or Virgil about it but I'm willing to bet they feel the same. You will all need to get to know one another again, you're all different people to how you were then, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing, sweetie."

Alan looked down at the spoon in his hands, now bent out of shape, the bowl twisted back to meet the handle."What if he doesn't like me? " His voice was small, so quiet she barely heard him. 

Oh gods, her heart was just breaking for him at that moment. Her poor little sweetheart. She crossed over and hugged him from behind, kissing the top of his head. 

"Baby, there isn't a single person in this world that wouldn't love you. You are perfect." 

"You have to say that, you're marrying my brother." 

She sighed, flicking his ear gently. "No I don't. And do you honestly think that I'm not shitting myself too?" 

Her rude words made him choke out a surprised laugh as he rubbed his abused ear. "Why would you be scared?" 

"I'm meeting your dad for the first time and I'm not exactly anyone's dream of a daughter in law. I'm a crazy witch that swears too much and moved into his house. He could hate me." 

It was Alan's turn to make her feel better. "He'll love you, because we all do, and there's no way he couldn't. You have made my brother the happiest he's ever been, you've made him better, and Dad will see that. You haven't just helped John, you don't just love John, you love us all." 

She smiled gratefully, hugging him tightly from behind, squishing him against her chest so he couldn't see the way her eyes were damp with unshed tears. "I got stuck with all of you, bloody package deal brothers."

He laughed, knowing she didn't mean it. 

"Give me your comm." 

"What? Why?" he lifted his arm up for her. 

She tapped the screen and waited for Scott to answer. 

"Yes, Alan?" 

"Scott," she wheedled. "You know you love me…will you come and make me some pancakes? " 

Alan muffled a laugh with his hand. His brother was silent for a few moments, then his long suffering sigh floated out. 

"Fine, I'm coming up." 

"How did you do that? How come he never says no to you?" 

"Witch magic." 

"That can't be your answer to everything, you know." 

"Say's who?" 

"Say's me," Scott answered as he entered the kitchen, ruffling Alan's hair affectionately as he passed. 

"Rude, you weren't included in this conversation."

Scott ignored her, knowing exactly what was going on. He felt bad that he'd said no to Alan's request, had wanted to drop everything the second his baby brother had asked, but a sense of duty had prevented it. How could it be right for him to stand around making pancakes when there was work to be done and what seemed like a million things to prepare for his dad's homecoming? Honestly, he was grateful that Selene had intervened, giving him an excuse to spend some time with his smallest brother. 

"What pancakes do you want, squirt?" 

"Toffee Apple," Alan answered immediately. 

"How did I know you'd say that?" Scott reached for a large mixing bowl and gestured to the store cupboard. 

"Because they are my favourites," Alan started taking out packages of flour and jars of applesauce without being asked, both of them falling back into their familiar routine. 

Selene took herself off to the side and sat down at the table, content to watch them work together. Alan helped Scott to measure out the ingredients and they both took turns whisking it into a smooth batter then added a sprinkling of chopped apple into the mix. 

Scott lined up three skillets and set the heat beneath them, letting them get nice and hot. Once they were to his liking he took a ladle and spooned out a big dollop into the middle of each pan. 

So impressive were his skills that he didn't even need to use a spatula to loosen the bottom as she would have done, no he just wiggled the pan and the pancake slid up the side like a well trained puppy, ready to be tossed. 

Scott wiggled the pan a bit more, playing up to the enthusiastic encouragement of Alan, then with a flick of his wrist the pancake soared upwards, turning in midair and coming down to land perfectly in the center of the pan, much to the appreciative cheering of Selene and Alan. 

He repeated the process in quick succession until a large stack of pancakes rested on the warming plate. 

"Can you call the others to come eat?" Scott requested and Alan scrambled to do his bidding. 

"Let's see if I've still got this," Scott muttered under his breath as he took a smaller spoon and dipped it in the remaining mixture, dribbling it into the pan, returning time and again for another dip, concentration etched on his face. 

Selene wandered over to watch over his shoulder, seeing the vague but recognisable shape of Thunderbird Three forming in the pan. Scott let it cook through until little air bubbles had formed all over the surface and then wiggled it up to the side. 

"Ready?" 

Both Selene and Alan nodded and with a deep breath, Scott launched the rocket skyward. It sailed up on its perfectly plotted path, dipped at the tip and turned end over end, hurtling back to the pan. Scott flailed comically for a second before he caught the little rocket, the only damage being a slight crease where the nose cone had hit the rim of the pan. 

Selene clapped, very impressed and Scott bowed theatrically, his face split in a wide smile as he returned it to the heat for another minute then carefully slid the lovingly made treat onto the plate Alan held out. 

"Pancakes!" Gordon cheered as he dashed in, heading straight to the stack. "We haven't had these in years!" He glanced over at the rocket that Alan was drenching in toffee sauce. "Hey! Where's my fishy? You always make me a fishy." 

"I'm working on it," Scott started his dip and dribble routine all over again, drawing an outline first and then filling in the center, all under Gordon's watchful eye. 

Virgil wandered in and retrieved a plate, helping himself to a few from the stack. Brains was next, and then Kayo, followed, slowly and somewhat hesitantly, by The Mechanic, who was still refusing to give anyone his real name. Selene was secretly convinced that it was either something mundane, like Dave, or very out there like Heathcliff and that he had been cursing his parents ever since. Either way, she called him Nic, shortened from Mechanic and he had learnt to do what everyone else in the family did and ignore her. 

A pair of warm arms slid around her middle, making her jump, John's evil chuckle muffled against her skin as he kissed her neck in greeting. 

"How did this happen?" 

Selene looked over at Scott as he caught the fish perfectly, pleased to see the way he had visibly loosened over the last half hour of so of fun with his youngest brother. 

"We wanted pancakes, it's traditional on Shrove Tuesday in Britain."

"Was that all, huh?"

She nodded, leaning back against his space suit clad chest, her fingers lacing through his. "Yep, that's it."

"A fish is easy to flip," Kayo taunted from her place at the table, a fork full of pancake halfway to her mouth.

"I'd like to see you do better," Scott challenged, already working on another, this time star shaped.

"Anyone could do it," Kayo shrugged.

"Yeah," John joined in, obviously in the mood to push some buttons. "It's simply a case of angle, height and force, physics, couldn't be simpler."

Selene grinned evilly. "You know what else is traditional in my country?"

"What?" Alan asked, his voice muffled, cheeks bulging like a hamster's.

"Pancake races."

***

Half an hour later saw them all outside on the beach. Selene and Grandma acting as judges and general rule keepers, while the brothers, Kayo and, after much persuasion, The Mechanic and Brains were all lined up ready to race.

"OK, remember, you can only run if you are flipping and catching and while the pancake is in the air, you can use both hands on the handle if you want to, but if you drop your pancake you have to stop and pick it up, place it back in your pan to flip again, you cannot throw it into the air and catch it. You have to complete one stationary toss and catch before you can pass the pan over. First team to cross the finish line wins. Got it?" They all nodded seriously.

"Ready team A?"

Gordon, Scott, Kayo and Brains cheered in response.

"Ready team B?"

John, Virgil, Alan and The Mechanic whooped in answer.

"Alright! On your marks! Get set…" Brains and The Mechanic readied themselves. "GO!"

Brains gripped the pan handle with both hands and hefted it upwards. The pancake barely lifted and did a very ungraceful belly flop back down but that counted and he managed to take a few steps forward.

The Mechanic had a little more strength and was a tad more coordinated and after a practice flip and catch, he got the hang of it and managed to make pretty good time.

Brains on the other hand, missed the pancake twice and had to retrieve it from the sand and toss it again before he could move. When he managed two flips and catches in succession his team mates cheered like crazy.

He passed the pan over to Kayo who flipped and took off, getting in three steps before she had to catch and flip again.

John took over from The Mechanic, taking his time to do an experimental flip, landing it well enough. He then tried again, leaning forward a bit and tossing at an angle rather than straight up, stretching to catch the flat disc.

"Come on, John, MOVE!" Alan yelled.

John ignored him, ignored the way Kayo was making steady progress down the beach, flipping, catching and running a few quick steps.

One more practice and he got his rhythm. With a wrist flick at the right angle, just the right spin, the right speed… He took off running, managing to toss the pancake ahead of him and catch it every time without slowing his pace once. Alan and Virgil burst into loud cheers, Alan bouncing on the spot eager to receive the pan for his lap.

"What the fu-" Kayo missed her pancake completely as John sailed past her effortlessly. She grabbed the pancake and put it back in the pan, tossed it hurriedly into the air, but over compensated and ended up running right past it and having to backtrack and pick it up again.

"Damn you, Tracy!"

John waved a casual hand behind him in acknowledgement, came to a gentle stop beside Alan, tossed and caught it one more time then handed over the pan much to Selene's supportive cheers.

"Hey! Favouritism from the Judge!" Gordon yelled as he waited impatiently for Kayo to reach him.

"Dude, he's running in a skin tight suit and didn't mess up once, I'm allowed to cheer!"

"Divided loyalties!"

John spread his hands in a what-can-I-say-the-truth-is-the-truth gesture, a smug smile on his face, not even out of breath.

The edge of Kayo's pan hit Gordon in the kidney as she nudged him to get his attention.

"Shit!" he grabbed the pan and tossed the sandy and now decidedly ragged pancake into the air, taking a couple of steps.

Alan was faring better and stopped mid step to stick his tongue out at Gordon. Splat! The pancake landed on his head as he turned back.

"That doesn't count as catching it!" Scott yelled at Grandma.

"He's right, Alan, toss it again, it has to be caught in the pan."

Alan slapped the pancake down into the pan and tossed it again as Gordon started to catch up.

Alan got in a few running steps before he caught the pancake.

Gordon threw the pancake into the air but didn't manage to land it right, one side flopping off the edge of the pan where it ripped, one half falling to the ground.

"Grab it!" Scott yelled.

Gordon fumbled but grabbed the lost half and deposited it into the pan. Tossing both halves was tricky but he managed it, catching both with a little extra effort.

Alan had stopped dead to laugh at Gordon's pancake disaster, allowing Gordon to pass him, but tossed and caught quickly, rushing to catch up.

"Ooof!" Alan landed on the sand as Gordon innocently pulled his foot back. "You tripped me!"

"Judges!" Virgil yelled.

"Two toss penalties for Gordon!" Grandma ruled, much to Gordon's disgust.

Alan made the most of his time advantage to get to his feet and hurry forward. He stopped, tossed and caught then passed the pan on to Virgil.

Gordon caught up and gave Scott the pan.

The two eldest and probably most competitive of the boys started their lap.

"You killed this pancake, Gordy!" Virgil complained as he tried to get the hang of flipping both halves.

"Blame Kayo, she started it! OWW! There was no need to hit me!"

Kayo rubbed her knuckles and grinned evilly.

Scott was, as predicted, making excellent time, tossing and catching with effortless ease while Virgil cursed, struggling to master the art of a double flip and catch. In the end he settled for smaller tosses of a higher frequency, the ragged halves barely lifting up but still clearing the pan and therefore counting, while he trotted along in a quick shuffling run.

The two teams cheered, bellowing encouragement and insults, having left their previous spots and converged on the finishing line.

"Come on, Scott!"

"Run, Virg!"

"Flip it!"

"Call that a toss? Pathetic!"

Scott glanced over his shoulder at his brother.

"Might as well give up now, you can't beat me!"

"In your dreams!" Virgil yelled back.

The finishing line was in sight and with a last burst of speed the racers edged closer.

Virgil, in a last ditch attempt to win, tossed the pancake halves towards the finish line -a beach towel laid out on the sand- and threw himself forward.

Scott, spotting what he was up to, did the same…

Virgil stretched out with the pan, ready to catch the falling food…

Scott dived, reaching out…

They landed in a tangle of arms and legs, Scott splayed out on top of Virgil, Virgil face down in the sand…

They all watched in horrified fascination as the pancakes seemed to hover suspended in mid air for a second before falling down to earth.

Scott flapped with his pan, Virgil flailed trying to push Scott off him, managing to get an arm free to stick out his pan.

PLOP! plop plop!

The two judges, along with the rest of the teams, rushed towards the two fallen racers.

"Seriously?"

"What are the odds?"

"What?" Scott pulled himself up off a complaining Virgil and looked into his pan.

Virgil sat up, doing the same.

In his pan sat Scott's still vaguely round pancake. And in Scott's, crumpled and creased, ripped and sandy, were the lumps of pancake that had belonged to Virgil.

"So who won?" Gordon asked.

***

"I saved you the last pancake," Scott came up behind Alan and offered him the plate.

"Thanks, Scott," Alan shifted over on the bench to make space for his brother and took the plate. "And thanks for today."

Scott sat down beside his brother, draping his arm around his shoulders. "You're welcome, and I'm sorry I didn't come straight away. I guess I've been a little preoccupied recently. I know that's not an excuse, but it did feel like a valid reason at the time."

"I shouldn't have asked, not really, you had more important things to do."

"No, you were right to ask, it's been a great afternoon and I think we all needed it. Thanks for forcing me to take a break."

Alan nodded, leaning closer to rest his head against his brother's shoulder.

"I just…I guess I feel like so much has changed so quickly and it's only going to change more. When Selene said it was pancake day I remembered how great it used to be to have fun and just spend time together. With everything that's been happening I didn't want that to be something that changed too."

Scott sighed, giving Alan's shoulder a squeeze.

"I'm sorry, I should have realised that. I should have noticed that you needed a bit more time than I've been giving you lately."

Alan scowled. "It's not your job to give me time, I'm not a baby, I'm big enough to look after myself now."

Scott chuckled. "Are any of us big enough to look after ourselves? Or is that why we all want Dad back so much?"

"Selene said that you weren't busy, you were hiding," Alan had zero issues with throwing her under the bus, knowing that Scott would never make her feel bad about it.

Scott was silent for a few moments before he spoke again. "She's not wrong, I guess, in a way, I have been hiding. I know I've been driving Brains and The Mechanic nuts with my constant attention. I'm just worried I think, worried that we'll be too late and we won't find Dad, worried that even if we do find him he won't be the man we remember."

"That's part of my problem, I don't remember him, not really. I just know that he was nice, and that everyone was less stressed when he was around."

"Yeah, dads always make things better and easier. Can I let you in on a secret?"

Alan nodded.

"I've been avoiding you guys a bit, especially you, because I don't want to let any of you down."

"Let us down? That's crazy! There's no way you could ever do that."

Scott closed his eyes, feeling so tired all of a sudden, the fun and relaxation of the last few hours fading away to be replaced with the bone deep exhaustion that was his constant companion.

"I'm having all these doubts, Allie. Doubts that I've been too stubborn to voice out loud."

Alans eyes opened wide. Selene had said that Scott was having the same fears he was, but he hadn't really believed her up until that point.

"What do you mean? What kind of doubts?"

Scott turned away to look out over the island to the sea below them, stretching out as far as the eye could see.

"I worry that he won't be alive when we get there, or that we won't even find him, but I also worry about what will happen if we do manage to bring him home. I want him home, of course I do, but things are going to change, and I'm just hoping that it won't be too hard on us all, especially Dad. We've been on our own, doing things our way with International Rescue for longer than we were doing them with him, and I worry that we're going to clash. Or even that Dad won't want to be here any longer, that he won't want to continue the way we are or even go out on rescues again. Can you imagine a world without International Rescue in it? One where we sit at home and don't help people? It was trying to save people that got Dad lost in the first place, and we've spent eight years saving others but left him alone. We didn't help him. What if he resents us for that? What if he blames us?" Scotts voice dropped lower, almost a whisper." What if he blames me? I'm the one that's in charge."

"I've thought all that too, apart from the bits about you, he would never blame you, none of us would."

Scott hugged his littlest brother tighter than ever, until Alan squeaked and squirmed to get away. He didn't know how he'd missed the fact that Alan himself had also been worried.

He was lucky to have his brothers and the friends that he counted as family. He felt his tight shoulders loosen a little. None of them knew what they would find when they got up there, or what would happen after, but no matter what, he'd have the support of everyone he held dear. That would be enough to get him through anything. 

"It'll be alright, Allie. We'll make sure of it. We'll do as we always do, we'll get through it together. Things have a way of working themselves out. We'll get up there, we'll find Dad and we'll bring him home. That's all that matters, that's all we need. Everything else is fixable in time."

Scott looked up towards the lounge windows where the sound of Virgil's piano filtered down to them, along with the indistinct rumble of conversation. 

"We're a family, Dad's part of us, and we'll make sure that he knows that."

[saltnhalo]

For @violetlyvanilla, the first place winner of my 1k fic giveaway!

Out on the very edges of the solar system, past the point where any civilian would dare to venture, Dean Winchester pilots the vessel 1MP4L4 towards one of the most notorious prisons in the galaxy.

Someone has to draw the short straw of doing the bi-monthly cargo run out to the prisoners and staff, and this time, that unlucky motherfucker is Dean. It’s a week-long trip in the old, slow spacecraft that the Alliance allocates to the lower-ranked corrections staff, and by now, Dean is so bored that he would give anything to be back at his desk filling out paperwork instead.

All it is is a routine cargo run.

At least, that’s what it was supposed to be.

Out of the emptiness of space, the prison slowly comes into view, a tiny speck that first blends in amongst the stars but finally solidifies itself as an actual structure. It’s remarkably unremarkable; dark metal against grey rock, built on a chunk of space debris orbiting an ancient moon. From looking at it, it’s almost impossible to discern that the prison houses only a small handful of the most dangerous enemies to the Alliance in the entire galaxy.

Dean knows better, though.

Once he’s almost in contacting distance, he settles himself into his pilot seat and buckles in, then prepares to engage the manual controls. Just an hour’s work of moving the cargo, and then he can begin the long trip back to civilisation. He rolls out his neck, reaches for the joystick, then flips the switch to engage his controls.

Nothing happens.

The ship doesn’t slow, doesn’t respond. The manual light doesn’t even turn on, so it’s not even pretending to be working. Instead, the 1MP4L4 continues to hurtle towards the prison at a speed suitable for interspace travel, but most certainly not ideal for approaching his destination, let alone a finicky docking routine.

“What the fuck,” Dean mutters, flicking the switch off and then on again. When it doesn’t work, he swears again, louder and more creatively. Dean reaches for the comms button and presses it with one hand, the other still frantically trying to engage the manual control. “Detainment Facility Delta, this is cargo envoy One-India-Miko-Four-Lima-Four, manual controls have failed and I cannot override the autopilot. I repeat, manual controls have failed and I cannot override the autopilot.” There’s no response, just crackling static from the prison’s end, but suddenly that becomes the least of Dean’s problems.

An error appears on his screen, and Dean’s eyes widen as he reads it.

Foreign control identified. Manual override unavailable.

“Mayday, mayday!” he shouts, trying every possible solution he knows as his ship hurtles towards the prison that is now growing rapidly larger in his front window. If he can’t shut it down, he’s royally fucked. This is not how he wanted to go—smashed into tiny pieces against the side of the most remote prison in the galaxy, just because his ship refused to obey him.

He’s frantic now, pressing any button that might even remotely help while shouting into his comms unit, but none of them help. In fact, none of them have any effect at all. Something else is in control of Dean’s ship now, and it’s all he can do to brace himself and hope that he makes it out alive.

The prison looms closer and closer, and the ship doesn’t stop, just keeps hurtling directly towards the prison wall. Dean watches as he passes through the outer shield, the gravity zone, the oxygen bubble. There’s no hope, now.

He braces himself against the control panel and closes his eyes—

The ship brakes at the very last second, just enough to lessen the impact slightly, but it’s far too late.

There’s a bang, and a split second where Dean feels all his forward momentum just stop, and then everything goes black.

~

The dust is slow to clear as Castiel Novak stands in the very back corner of his cell and uncovers his face to reveal the aftermath of the crash.

His little computer, cobbled together from reused tele-screen and cleaning robot parts, lies discarded in the corner, no longer of use. It served its purpose of hacking into both the mainframe of the cargo ship and in overriding the locking mechanism of his cell, and now freedom is within his grasp.

The dust from his half-destroyed cell wall settles to reveal the nose of the cargo ship where it intrudes into Castiel’s cell. The old ships are slow but sturdy, and Castiel had hoped that it would be enough to break through, but actually seeing his success is so much more invigorating than he could ever have planned.

The front window looks a little cracked, and he can see the silhouette of the pilot inside, slumped in his chair, but neither of those facts concern him right now. As long as everything holds together long enough for him to make it to the nearest port and disappear, he’ll be home scot-free.

Not wanting to waste any time before the wardens arrive at his cell and find that it can’t be unlocked, Cas clambers over the stones from the wall and hits the button for the ship’s hatch to open. For the first time in six months, he’s going to be free again, and he can’t wait.

He’s quick to make his way through to the cockpit, barely giving the pilot a second glance as he leans over the control panel and does a quick assessment of the damage. Cracked window, as he’d suspected, and a few failed shield-points, but nothing crucial to his escape. “You’re a sturdy lady,” he murmurs, then sets about priming the ship for take-off.

Now that Castiel’s device is no longer blocking communications, the warden’s voice and threats come crackling through the speakers, but he simply switches them off. He needs to focus, despite the satisfaction in hearing that he’s bested the Alliance once again.

The ship’s computer lights up, telling Castiel that he’s ready to depart, and he can’t keep the grin off his face as he wraps his fingers around the joystick. He’d told the wardens that they wouldn’t be able to hold him, and they’d laughed at him, but now…

Once again, all of space is his oyster.

Castiel pulls back on the joystick, settles into the controls of his stolen ship, and gives the prison a middle finger salute as he speeds away.

~

It’s only once he’s been flying for about an hour and put a decent amount of distance between himself and the prison that Castiel lets himself consider the man still strapped into the pilot’s seat behind him.

From the shallow rise and fall of his chest, it’s clear that he’s still alive, at least, but whether he was injured in the crash, Cas can’t be sure. There’s a cut on his forehead that’s been bleeding sluggishly, and he still hasn’t come to, but the longer he can stay unconscious, the better that is for Castiel.

Unfortunately, the guy doesn’t stay out for long.

Castiel has just finished tying his hands together behind the chair when he begins to stir, his head lolling and eyelashes fluttering. He’s pretty, Castiel had noticed earlier—skin dotted with freckles, nice cheekbones, full lips. And when his eyes open, slowly and hazed with confusion…

They’re a shade of green that Castiel hasn’t seen in so long that it takes his breath away.

“What th’ fuck…”

Castiel takes a sharp step back as the man’s bleary gaze focuses on him. The guy squints, his nose crinkling, and in that moment before the realisation kicks in, he’s truly beautiful.

And then his eyes widen, and he sucks in a quick breath.

“Castiel Novak.”

Castiel should have known that his reputation would precede him, especially among those who work for the Alliance. Hell, he’s been paid to kill so many of their corrupt administration so many times that he’d be surprised if he wasn’t mentioned in the training of new cadets as public enemy number one. But seeing this beautiful man close off before his eyes…

It stings a little.

“That’s me,” he says, lips quirking up in a quick, tight smile. “And you are?”

The man pulls against the ropes binding his hands—sluggishly, like he still isn’t fully conscious yet—and scowls. “Winchester,” he bites out after a few moments. Castiel raises his eyebrow and waits patiently for a handful more seconds, until the guy adds a reluctant;

“…Dean.”

“Well, Dean,” Castiel says, turning back towards the control panel. “Nice to meet you. I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances, but…” He shrugs one shoulder, tapping the computer screen and making a few adjustments to the autopilot’s trajectory. “Desperate times and all that. And now that you’re aiding and abetting my escape, I doubt you really want me to let you go. So I’m very sorry, but you’re stuck with me.”

The guy—Dean—blinks at him. Castiel hopes that it’s the concussion slowing his thought processes and not the fact that he’s been saddled with an idiot, otherwise he’s going to let him off at the nearest port, pretty face or not.

“You’re really that dangerous that the Alliance would rather kill me than accept me back into their ranks, huh?” Dean says quietly, leaning his head back against the chair and watching Castiel with an unreadable expression.

Castiel rolls his eyes and leans one hip against the control panel—he doesn’t miss the way Dean’s gaze follows the movement, or the way his eyes flick over his silver jumpsuit, to his lips, up to his eyes. Interesting. “Trust me, Dean,” he murmurs, “I’m more dangerous than anyone you’ve ever met. If you want to be let off at the next station and risk your luck with the Alliance, fine by me. But I’ve killed members of the Alliance, and I’ve killed for members of the Alliance, so you might want to listen when I tell you that you’re better off sticking with the interplanetary assassin than you are going back to your employers. Especially if they think you were even partly responsible for my escape.”

Dean stares at him, his thoughts clearly processing behind those pretty green eyes. It’s a lot to lay on someone all at once—and to be honest, Castiel isn’t even really sure why he’s giving the guy this option. He should just be getting rid of him, but there’s something about this man; whether it’s his attractiveness or the way he’s watching Castiel, thoughtfully, with an edge behind his eyes that suggests that he might be able to keep up with Cas instead of slowing him down.

Either way, he’s intrigued.

For a few long moments, the only sound between them is the humming of the ship’s engine and the quiet whirr of the control panel. Dean bounces his leg as he thinks, but his gaze never leaves Castiel’s face.

Finally, he nods. “Yeah,” he says, quietly at first, and then more decisively. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay with you at least until I see how the Alliance reacts to your escape—but if I change my mind, you’ll let me go, yeah?”

Castiel shrugs, allowing himself a pleased smile at Dean’s decision. “Of course. But—“

He cuts himself off as the computer screen flashes with an Alliance-issued emergency announcement. Two photos flash up: one of Castiel’s mugshot, and the other of Dean’s staff ID photograph. Dangerous fugitives, the text reads. Apprehend at all costs.

Dean pales slightly as he stares at his own photograph, whereas Castiel just chuckles. He pats Dean on the thigh as he circles around the chair, then pulls his knife out of his belt and slices through the ropes binding Dean’s hands.

“Would you look at that,” he murmurs next to Dean’s ear. “Looks like you’re an outlaw now.”

[matth1w]

Hey! Can you make a bucky x y/n story, around the time in CW, where Sam asked her to join their team, y/n has the same powers of Violet Parr, from the Incredibles lol, and Bucky is really impressed and everything is so cuTE, sorry I'm in need of a y/n that can be invisible and so badass, i love your stories, yoy have a really great future here in Tumblr, anyways thank u🥰🥰

Violet

Pairing: Bucky Barnes / The Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: With a fight between the Avengers brewing, Sam recruits a friend.

Warnings: None

Rating: Everyone

Word Count: 1,181

Note: I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting! Few bonus blurbs as my muse had other ideas about this couple.

As you were cleaning up the leftover plates and cups from the group, you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

You were surprised when you turned around to see Sam, a man you had come to befriend volunteering at the VA.

You gave him a smile and finished stacking up the unused plates.

“Hey Sam, haven’t seen you in a while.”

He chuckled as he walked over,

“Yeah, about that…”

You waved a hand before putting it in your back pocket,

“Nah, don’t worry about it.”

His smile slightly dropped as he looked into your eyes,

“Y/N, you remember how I told you I was a… pilot?”

His pointed look and emphasis on the word made you furrow your brows.

“Yeah…?”

Sam shifted on his feet, “Well, I’ve been helping out a friend and we could really use you.”

And there it was.

You looked at Sam with anger in your eyes for a moment. But you remembered he promised he would never ask for your help unless he truly needed it.

You closed your eyes for a second and sighed, trying to loosen the stress that was steadily growing on your shoulders.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Sam looking at you curiously, awaiting your answer.

“When do we start?”

~~

You watched the scene as the man who had introduced himself as Ant Man shook hands with Captain America. You would have to give Sam a talking to later, you would’ve appreciated knowing you were going to be partnering with some of the Avengers. And that the friend he had been helping was Captain America himself.

You squinted slightly at the man standing behind the comically small car. He looked like Bucky Barnes. THE Bucky Barnes from the Howling Commandos. You were going to kick Sam’s ass. He was friends with not one but two super soldiers?!

Being brought back to the present, you heard Steve clear his throat and look around.

“So, Sam,” he said with a very military commander voice, “I thought you said you were bringing someone.”

You almost laughed at how his disappointed look looked exactly like those cheesy PSA’s they showed on TV.

Sam shook his head and laughed, “I have a feeling she’ll come any second now.”

Taking that as your cue, you revealed yourself and sauntered over to the group. Their looks of surprise and awe boosted your ego. You especially liked the raised eyebrow you were receiving from Bucky.

Inside, of course, you felt a bit intimidated, but you kept your head held high as you made you way to the group.

You stood before them confidently and smiled, “Y/N. I figure Sam here told you about my powers?”

Steve spoke up, seeming to be a mix between amused and confused by the situation,

“No, actually, I don’t think he did.”

You looked over at your friend and rolled your eyes, well aware that he enjoyed dramatic entrances as much as you did.

~~

The team decided the best strategy would be to keep you hidden until you were needed. No one knew for sure, but they didn’t think the others would be able to sense you, especially if they didn’t think to look for you.

The plan was for you to stay atop the airport and Sam or Wanda would fly you in when the time was right. You had to say you didn’t mind it as you saw just who you were supposed to be fighting.

You watched as the Avengers clashed and tried to understand the powers and skills of each person. You couldn’t help but keep going back to watching Bucky. It made you nervous seeing how the man in the black suit kept chasing him. It seemed like he truly wanted to kill him.

You spoke into the comms,

“Sam, do you want me to go in? I can throw cat man off Bucky’s trail.”

Sam’s voice crackled in your ear, “You sure?”

Steve’s voice followed before you could reply, “Wait for Sam or Wanda to get you”.

Seeing as Bucky seemed to be having a harder and harder time fending off his foe, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“I’m going in”.

You took a step off the side of the building and surrounded yourself with your force field. As you ran towards Bucky, you noticed Natasha pause but before she could move towards you, her body was engulfed in red and thrown back.

You continued to run towards the pair and watched in horror as the shining silver claws extended and his arm started to swing at Bucky, who was cornered.

Bucky closed his eyes, accepting that T’Challa had finally caught him but his eyes flew open when he heard a ‘thunk’. Looking up, he saw T’Challa confused but ready to strike again.

Bucky stared in awe and watched in amazement as you slid in beside him and yelled, pushing your force field forward and throwing your opponent into the jet 50 feet behind him.

You revealed yourself and smiled at Bucky, breathing heavily from the exertion. He just looked back at you, mouth agape. Before you could say anything else, you heard Sam’s voice in your ear again,

“Y/N, stop your googly eyes and get out of there. Tony’s coming up on your six.”

Pausing to look at Bucky, you cocked your head and smiled, “See you around”.

With that, you went invisible again and started making your way towards Tony while Bucky ran towards Steve.

Thankfully, Sam distracted Tony, which gave you a chance to hide behind a container. You knew it wouldn’t cover you for long but you decided to stay put for the moment.

Bucky’s voice sounded in your ear, “We gotta go, that guy’s probably in Siberia by now.”

You were shocked, you didn’t even think you would have to go to a different location. How long and how far would this fight go?

Steve’s voice came in next, “We’ve got to draw out the flyers. I’ll take Vision, you get to the jet.”

Sam spoke up next, “No, you get to the jet, both of you.”

“I’ll cover with Sam, you two go!”, you shouted, already running towards them, ready to defend.

There was silence for a moment but then you heard Bucky’s voice.

“We’ll come back when we can. Finish these guys off then lay low.”

Sam fought back, “The rest of us aren’t getting out of here.”

You watched as Hawkeye drew his bow then spoke up, “As much as I hate to admit it, if we’re going to win this one, some of us might have to lose it.”

There as a pause before Steve spoke up, “Alright, what’s the plan, Sam?”

“We need a diversion, something big.”

Scott chimed in, “I got something big, but I’ll need Y/N to cover me.”

“Got it, I’m on my way to you,” you affirmed while you started taking off in his direction. Seeing Steve and Bucky still hesitating, you shouted at them, “You two, go!”

Bucky nodded and then spoke up, “Be safe.”

Bonus Blurbs

Go invisible with Bucky and/or Sam to prank your friends. Steve always thwarts.

—

Bucky sometimes pretends to not hear you sneaking up on him bc he loves seeing your face after you actually scare him. He’ll never admit he sometimes fakes it. And he’ll definitely never admit you actually did sneak up on him once.

—

You were enjoying the conversation between Scott and Steve. Full aware that Steve could hear you.

“So Y/N and Barnes… are they…”, Scott leaned in and tried to whisper, “You know…”.

You appeared, nonchalantly sitting on the stool and resting your elbow on the counter,

“Yeah”

“Ahh!” Scott jumped what seemed like five feet into the air.

Steve threw his torso back, shaking with rambunctious laughter.

Sam started chuckling too, “That’s revenge, mini man.”

—

“Sometimes I just want to hide. People see me and they start thinking they know me. I used to sit out here and think but nowadays people know my face. Usually it’s good but sometimes…”

You put your hand over his, “I think I can help with that.”

—

You stubbed your toe and dropped your phone. Instead of trying to catch it you flailed your arms around. Once it hit the floor with a thud, you sighed feeling defeated but at least no one saw you.

Hearing a laugh behind you, you looked over your shoulder to see Bucky coming towards you and watched in embarrassment as he stooped down to pick up your phone. As he stood back up and gave the phone back to you, you started turning invisible in embarrassment. He watched your finger tips begin to slowly disappear before he spoke up,

“Hey,” Bucky said softly.

You willed your eyes to meet his and couldn’t help but swoon with the sheer adoration that was visible in them.

—

You held your breath and stepped as slowly and quietly as you could. Remaining unseen, and unnoticed, was of the utmost importance and nothing could make you break your cover.

As you took your final step and got into position to attack, you took a slow, deep breath and —

“Doll, just because you’re invisible doesn’t mean I can’t hear you.”

You appeared before him and humphed. Being overdramatic you threw yourself onto the couch.

“Ugh! Bucky, you’re no fair!”

He chuckled at your whining and plopped down on the couch beside you.

“Yeah, but you love me”, he said with a whisper and a soft touch to your cheek.

You looked up from your fake woe and smiled, “Yeah, I do.”

[halfblood-fiend]

Star Trek Bingo 2020: Vertical Prompt 3

Chess/”Board” Games

Show: Voyager

Words: 1,841

Rating: General Audiences

Warning(s): shenanigans

Dungeons and Bandwagons

When Giana attempts to organize her first D&D campaign onboard the Voyager, it turns out to be a bit more complicated than she thought.

Read it on AO3

We’d been going around and around for most of our lunch break. I did not think that introducing twenty-third century people to D&D would be so difficult.

After another explanation, Harry Kim stared at me with his hands folded beneath his chin for too long a while. “I don’t get it,” he said finally, picking his fork back up to resume playing with his food. “How is that supposed to be better than a holodeck program?”

“Uhhh… it’s interactive and adaptable?”” I offered. “Your DM makes the story up for you as you go.”

“An adept programmer could make the holodeck function in the same manner,” Vorik chimed in from my right. I had to keep from rolling my eyes.

 “Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

He shrugged without looking at me. “I am on the side of logic.”

I ignored this, shaking my head and insisted to Harry, “There are scenarios you just can’t plan for.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like…”

God. Like deciding to bang the first NPC you meet. Why? Eh, just ‘cause. Like deciding as a group to put on a spur-of-the-moment chili cook off to grant the deed to the town’s tavern to the winner because, obviously a chilli cook-off is the most fair way to make decisions. Or like deciding to betray your entire party for your character’s freedom, and then betraying those new allies and running off alone. Or like solving every kidnapping or murder problem by rolling the unwanted body up in a rug, and then lying to so many people about your rug selling business that your party all decide to petition the city for an actual business license, thus derailing the campaign for weeks as you all turn in your paperwork and get in touch with a real estate agent within the fantasy city in order to find a place to house your Totally-Not-Fake Rug and Carpeting Business.

But how to explain all that?

“Man… you just gotta trust me,” I sighed. “There are way too many variables to be able to make a program that will adapt to all of them. You have no way of knowing what could happen during a D&D campaign. Trust me.”

“Eh, I’m down to try,” Lyssa Campbell said. When Harry gave her a doubtful look, she shrugged. “Hey, it’s gotta be better than that poker everyone is always playing. And as long as we’re all relaxing and talking and having fun, then it sounds like it’ll be just fine.”

“Sounds like a rip off of my Grendel program,” Harry muttered. “And not even as interesting because we aren’t fighting holographic monsters. We’re just—what? —imagining everything happening?”

“Aha! I got it,” I said with a snap of my fingers, cutting off whatever he was talking about. “Dice!”

Harry raised his eyebrows and Vorik said, “Explain.”

“You can’t roll dice on the holodeck.”

“So?”

“So! Rolling the dice to try and see how well you do things is the best part!”

“If you’re telling me that’s the best part of this game, I’m really doubting how much “fun” you claim it to be.”

“Aww, come on, Harry! Let’s just try it!”

He shook his head again, but a smile started pulling at his lips. “Fine, but I’m not going to have fun and I will complain the whole time.”

“Doubt that,” I replied with a wink. “But I’ll take it for now.”

“Giana! If you can spare a moment, I have an inquiry regarding your role-playing game.”

Similar sentiments had been asked of me by most of my friends and future players, but Vorik was the last person that I had expected to have any trouble with character building. Yet here Vorik was, appearing at my shoulder before I could enter the turbolift to leave Engineering.

“An inquiry? Now is that more or less important than a plain question?”

He gave me a puzzled look as we entered the lift together and I smiled.

“Nevermind. Shoot.”

“What?”

“Ask me the question. Deck two.”

The turbolift slid into motion and Vorik began, “I was looking over the documents you sent those of us who required characters for your Dungeons and Dragons—”

I smiled at his use of the name but nodded.

“—and I noticed that ‘Human’ is among the other more fantastical races that one can play. It gave me an idea that I wished to discuss with you.”

“Oh, yeah… I mean, I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s just an old Human-made game, remember? Don’t take it too seriously. I, like, literally never actually played a Human before. That would just be like playing myself and, sure, you always kinda do that but who wants to be so obvious about it?”

Vorik blinked. “I would.”

It was my turn to ask, “What?”

“If Humans can exist in this world, then I would like to role-play as a Vulcan.”

I chewed my lip, my heart sinking because I felt like Vorik was missing the point. Here I thought he was going to do something interesting when he asked to join the party. I was excited to see what he would come up with. But, then again, it wasn’t like he role-played very much when we played Skyrim together on the holodeck either. His inflexible and aloof attitude usually confused all the Nords until I stepped in to use the “proper” language. Made him useless at price haggling.

Since he wanted to play at all, I conceded to myself, that had to be close enough. I didn’t want to totally control his play. I never liked it when my DMs had done that in the past.

He a little confused, but he got the spirit.

“Okay,” I relented, “I’ll see what I can do about homebrewing a ‘Vulcan’ stat-block for you, just…promise me one thing?”

My Vulcan companion quirked an eyebrow at me. “Yes?”

The turbolift stopped and opened its doors. I could hear the sounds of soft chatter and laughter coming from the mess hall. Whatever Neelix was cooking wafted up the corridor and smelled really promising. My stomach grumbled in response.

“Just don’t play yourself,” I said as we both stepped off the lift and the doors slid closed behind us. “If you show up with a character named ‘Vorik,’ I’m going to kick you from the game. And then, literally kick you in the shins.”

“An extreme reaction, don’t you think?”

I put up my fists as if I was gonna fight him. “Oh, I can get more extreme.”

Looking at my poor guard dubiously, he said dryly, “I’m sure. Your Human penchant for hysterics?”

“Hysterics?! Oh! Well how about your high drama, mister??”

“I do not know to what you could be referring.”

The line at Neelix’s kitchen counter was somewhat long, which gave Vorik and I plenty of time to debate the “logic” of Vulcan fashion choices back and forth. I insisted they were dramatic for no reason and Vorik tried to act like real thought went into all the high collars and zig-zagged diagonal clasps. Neelix’s pasta dish actually did look as promising as it smelled, which was a nice surprise.

“Ah, Miss Giana, I almost forgot,” Neelix gasped as I turned away, drawing me back. “Ensigns Swinn and Jurot wanted to ask you about—ah—something called a ‘character sheet’?”

I thanked him with a smile and motioned for Vorik to help me pick them out of the crowded hall at dinner hour.

The day had come to start our campaign and not a moment too soon. I was excited as all hell. I’d hardly slept at all the night before, choosing instead to expand some NPC backstories and prepare a few more monsters. Just in case.

All of my players’ character sheets were checked and filed on my PADD for reference. I couldn’t help but laugh when Vorik sent me his and I saw the name at the top of the sheet. He had listened to me and wasn’t playing himself…but I was very curious to see how Surak the monk was going to handle my adventure. I was pretty pleased with everyone’s character concepts, actually. I had a pretty balanced group.

I’d decided some time ago that a grand total of six players was all that I could conceivably handle. But that hadn’t stopped everyone else from trying to ask for a spot. Dozens of requests had flooded my inbox from all corners of the ship (Neelix’s doing, I assumed) and I had spent a good chunk of time yesterday writing personal “sorry, maybe next times.”

Even Chakotay had sent me a note! Not to, like, join or anything, but still! He mentioned that he was familiar with the old game and wanted to tell me that he thought it would be good for morale and crew unity and other things commanders cared about.

I practically sprinted away the second my shift was over, bolting to the door before Lieutenant Carey had even said goodbye.

I was the last player on duty, and my group’s attitude towards D&D had changed dramatically once they’d built their characters. They all made me promise not to keep them waiting for too long.

And speak of the devil.

The communicator badge on my chest chirped before I’d made it halfway down the corridor. Harry’s voice crackled over the comm.

“Uhhh…Giana?”

I tapped the badge to answer. “Yeah, yeah, Harry. I’m on my way as fast as I can, okay?”

“Oh… No, no. It’s not that…”

Was I hearing things, or did I detect the hum of a lot of voices in the background?

“What is it?”

He sounded uncomfortable. “I think we need to find a different venue to play. Your quarters are going to be a little cramped…” Muted voices spoke rapidly but I couldn’t catch any words. “Meet us in the Lounge instead. Vorik says he has a code and he’d grab the PADD with your notes. I made him promise not to look.”

Nervous laughter bubbled from my mouth. “Uhh…why?”

Vorik’s voice resonated over Harry’s comm. “There are thirty-six other people who would like to spectate our game. At first it did not seem inconceivable to accommodate a few of them when they asked…”

“But all of us told a couple people that they could come and now there’s thirty-six of them,” Harry finished. “Sorry, Gee…”

Thirty-six… That’s forty-two people…

My jaw actually dropped.

“Okay,” I said in a small voice. “See… S-See you all there…” I killed the line by tapping on my badge again and wobbled.

I was shaking when I boarded the turbolift.

I’d never DM-ed a game before in my life, even though I’d talked about doing so on several occasions back home. So, without experience, or my old friends to ask for tips, I was already starting out nervous.

But now?

Holy shit.

What was I gonna do??

I blinked and the turbolift doors slipped shut on me, whisking me away to an uncertain fate.

[txtdiaries]

Momentum - Chapter Two

SUMMARY |  You don’t know what to expect during your first ever date with the boy of your dreams, but as the night goes on and things start to fall into place almost effortlessly, you realize one thing and one thing only about Choi Soobin - he is perfect for you.

PAIRING | Soobin X Reader

CATEGORY | college au, crush, slow burn, sports, date night, etc.

WORD COUNT | 7.9k

WARNINGS | swearing, fluff galore

SONG REC | Two More Minutes - Jaymes Young

PLAYLIST | momentum playlist

Preview / Chapter One / Chapter Two

Your eyes scan the football field, searching for the only jersey with the number 8 etched into the back of it as your feet carry you across the damp turf. You notice the group of players huddled up a few yards away as you get closer, and you make sure to skew from the coach’s line of sight  - not wanting to draw attention to yourself in the process.

Regardless of it being almost seven at night, the sun still hasn’t fully set, and the sky is radiating a slightly darkened blue color. You take a moment to skim over the players again, eyes finally focusing on one specifically when they find the tallest boy amid the group.

Soobin is always easy to find. 

He’s adorning his black and white football uniform, paired with his cleats and black knee socks, and a checkered sweatband is wrapped around his wrist to finish off his practice attire. You take note of the way your chest squeezes once he grins at something another one of his teammates says, and quickly shake your head to somehow shake the feeling off. 

You notice how Soobin’s helmet dangles from in between his fingers as you get closer - having been taken off only moments before - and how his black hair is matted down; clinging against his forehead and neck. His glasses are nowhere to be seen, and seeing him without them sends butterflies erupting in your stomach. The number on his back - Soobin’s famous number - beams proudly under the fluorescent lights dotted around the edges of the field, and you take a second to mull over the nickname he’s carried since freshman year to now. The unforgettable nickname that’s been his, and only his, since the first game of the season, two years ago.

The golden infinity, he had been labeled, since Soobin is supposedly the best in everyone’s eyes, and always will be. You can’t exactly blame them for thinking so. Soobin is the best of the best - you just can’t help but wonder if he sees himself this way too.

You know better than to think so.

After a few moments of shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you clear your throat; causing a few eyes to look your way. You don’t actually know that many of the boys on the football team. You only recognize a cute boy named Hyunjin, who has Math with you, and another boy named Mark.

You’re familiar with Mark. Not only because he’s popular and the football team’s star quarterback, but because he hit on you in English class last week. You avoid his burning stare instantly

“Yo, infinity,” Mark interrupts the coach’s light speal about the game-plan review for next week and looks over toward Soobin. He snaps his head in Mark’s direction at the mention of his name and his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Your girlfriend is here.”

Your heart lurches in your chest after the words are said, and you watch as Soobin’s cheeks burn suddenly when Mark motions towards you. He quickly looks over with a light chuckle before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes widen as they flash over Mark before meeting Soobin’s again. He only grins at this.

You don’t actually know how Mark knows you’re there for Soobin, but you quickly gather that he had to have told some of his friends he had a date. Teammates or not, word spreads fast amongst jocks. Soobin is clearly no exception.

The coach finishes his speech and the players all break, half of them barely paying attention anyway as he tries to keep everyone’s energy up for the next game. Soobin shoves Mark’s shoulder amidst the chaos, and then moves quickly to grab his bag and walk over to your spot near the bench, a shy grin adorning his face as he does so. You fight to hold one back as well.

“Hey, sorry for having you come all the way here. Practice ran over.”

You shrug lightheartedly, “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

His dimple carves it’s place into his cheek, and you feel yourself smile back at Soobin, heart rate accelerating. 

“Alright. We can head back to my dorm just so I can get out of these clothes and then we can head out, sound good?”

You nod as if you aren’t spiked with anxiety, because you’re really about to go to the Choi Soobin’s dorm room. You try not to overthink the situation, and then follow him off the field and onto the sidewalk, walking towards the student housing buildings quickly.

Soobin keeps you both occupied as you make your way east of the football field - asking you about your classes, how your day was going, and just about everything in between. You can sense his nerves as you two speak, but try to relax. After all, it is just Soobin. 

“My roommate shouldn’t be back yet, he had a test to study for.” Soobin explains once you two finally reach his dorm and stand in front of his room. He fishes a pair of keys from his black duffel bag and slides a small silver one into the lock, twisting lightly before pushing the door open. It’s one of the most mundane things ever - but it brings a blush to your cheeks. 

Get it together, you tell yourself. 

You walk in behind Soobin and watch as he carelessly tosses his items aside and onto the floor near his bed. You avert your eyes after he opens one of his dresser drawers, not wanting to seem nosy before your eyes start to wander around the room, studying it curiously.

Soobin’s roommate truly is nowhere to be seen, but his side of the room is so messy, you wouldn’t be surprised if he happened to be buried somewhere under all the laundry on the ground. His side of the room is far less organized, so you don’t pay much attention to it. 

Soobin’s half, on the other hand, is practically spotless. 

His bed is made, adorn with black bedsheets and matching pillows. He has a small bunny plushy propped up against one pillow, and you grin when you see it. Colorful throw pillows and even a small fluffy blanket are the only colorful items occupying the bed, making it look extremely comfortable along with welcoming. Your heart warms at Soobin’s possessions.

His laptop sits closed on his desk in the corner, and a pair of speakers sit on each side of it, turned off. Textbooks are lined up neatly on his long shelf just above, and his black backpack rests on the chair just next to it. Soobin doesn’t have a lot of space for his things, but from what you can see, everything on his side is just purely Soobin. From his bottled cologne resting on his shelf, or his glasses resting on the Algebra book laid open on his bed. Small details of him lie right in front of your eyes, and you take note of all of them.

The packet of unopened ramen noodles near his books, most likely for late night snacking. His pencil case shoved to the brim with different colored pens and highlighters for the hours he undoubtedly spends studying. Even the black journal you see peeking out from under his pillow, and the romance novel he strategically has shoved next to a science textbook on his desk, these small things hidden by others, almost as if he doesn’t want to be completely and fully exposed - even in his own bedroom. It all comes together perfectly.

You know right here and now - you really like Soobin. 

“I’m sorry it’s kinda messy.” Soobin speaks up as he pulls out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, leaning over to swipe his glasses of the book before looking down at you bashfully. 

You smile up at him, “You gotta stop apologizing so much. It’s not messy at all.” 

He chuckles lowly at this before shaking his head. 

“You can sit down if you want, I’ll just be a minute.”

You tuck some hair behind your ear and nod, moving to sit on his bed as he makes his way to the door again. Your stomach flips at the thought of being alone in Soobin’s room - almost like you shouldn’t be here at all. Like it’s his sacred place you shouldn’t have invaded in the first place. With your thoughts running and your eyes wandering again, Soobin steps out, closing the door behind him. 

Your phone buzzes instantly - almost as if it was waiting for him to leave. 

You pull it from your back pocket in confusion, eyes scanning over the text you see as soon as you do. 

HOW’S IT GOING? - Junie

The text sent in all caps stares back at you in all its glory, and you laugh at Yeonjun’s excitement. You thumb back a reply easily.

I’m literally in his dorm room right now - send help. 

You lock your screen and pocket the device again, fingers drumming against your knee in boredom. You don’t want to inspect every inch of the room, because that would be weird, so instead you stand and peer at Soobin’s book collection, trying to see if you have any of the same ones. 

You can’t remember if Soobin is a literature major or a communication major, and your memory flashes as you swiftly recall that he had switched from one to the other. The only reason you know this is because Yeonjun, ironically, had a mutual friend with Soobin, and they had seen him leaving the Advising Center one sunny day last semester. After his friend Beomgyu, Yeonjun had later filled you in on his name, saw him, they chatted for a bit with Yeonjun right there. Although he couldn’t remember any of the most pressing details - you were lucky, and a little shocked, to get any at all. Besides, Soobin was just a casual crush you had - a boy you blushed and hid from whenever you saw him crossing campus - it almost felt weird to be informed of these things when you didn’t really know him in the first place.

Until now. Now, you were getting there.

After your eyes scan over his Digital Communication book and his Human Relations book, you safely decide that he was in fact a COMM major. You can’t help as your mind starts to wander, filling with questions and wondering why he switched in the first place. Clearly he loved literature - that was obvious given his extensive collection of literary classics and, surprisingly, modern romance and sci-fi novels, stacked on his shelf. Maybe he had simply switched because it wasn’t for him. Or maybe he switched for an entirely different reason. You can only wonder. 

Soobin re-appears in no time, and you glance over as he walks in again, noticing how his hair is now styled and his outfit, changed. You smile at this before meeting his eyes.

“Ready?” He questions, a cute grin tugging at the corners of his lips. You nod swiftly and step forward, moving to walk out the doorway with him. 

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” You comment, noticing how Soobin’s shoulder brushes against yours as he reaches into his pocket for his keys again to lock the door, “You could be kidnapping me for all I know.”

Instead of giving you a clear answer, he chuckles and pulls you gently, excitedly by the wrist towards the exit, “Well it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

“You’re swinging too low!” You call to Soobin who stands behind a chain linked fence, baseball bat in hand and helmet on head, facing an automatic pitching machine.

Out of all the places Soobin could have taken you on a first date, he took you to a sports playground. And to make matters even better - he was losing.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a jock?” You tease, watching as Soobin swings aggressively again, missing the ball by a longshot. His shoulders shake with laughter at your comment before he yells back, fixing his stance again.

“I’m out of practice and you’re making me nervous!”

You nod even though he can’t see and tug your own helmet on, laughing at his final swing. Soobin ticks the ball and sends it flying to the left of him, travelling a few feet away before crashing into the fence. His eyes meet yours as you walk up to the gate entrance. 

“Well I could have done better than that.” You say.

Soobin laughs at you, and it warms something deep in the pit of your stomach, “I’ll school you at basketball later on, don’t worry. Just try getting a few swings in to warm up and then get ready to lose.”

He was overly enthusiastic when you two first arrived, hands covering your eyes so you wouldn’t peek and ruin the surprise. When he finally revealed the large sign outside reading Benny’s Sports Playground, he was grinning ear to ear. You should have known Soobin would take you to a place like this for your first date. It was perfect, and you were both eager to play some games.

First on the list was baseball, seeing as it was the first actual game to be seen as you both entered. It was secluded enough, through a small entrance and shielded by a chain fence linked around its perimeter. It was a good warm-up game, you and Soobin had both agreed on that. After baseball, though, it’s basketball. And after that, you don’t dare guess what Soobin has in mind.

“I won’t be the one losing.” You feign confidence, stepping onto the artificial field before making your way over.

“Okay,” He shrugs, voice raising a few octaves as he shrugs goofily, “Okay! Prove it then.” 

You laugh at his tone, walking over to take the bat from him. Soobin pulls back gently as soon as you reach for it, lifting it back and up so it’s just out of reach, and smirks at you. You frown now and grab at it, pulling after your fingers wrap around the handle.

You realize, just then, that you two are acting like a couple. To a complete stranger, it could be interpreted as shameless flirting, and the thought alone almost makes you blush. Because Soobin is flirting, and you are actually letting him.

“Okay, okay, let’s see what you’ve got.” Soobin finally releases the bat after your shared moment, and steps back to lean against the fence enclosing the two of you a few feet away. You know he shouldn’t be the distance away that he is while you’re batting, but you don’t mention it. The workers took their break as soon as the two of you arrived anyway, not seeing the need to watch over two adults. You just hope they don’t arrive back anytime soon.

“You’re gonna regret making fun of me, watch.” You giggle, widening your stance before lifting the bat up, squaring your eyes on the machine a few yards away.

“Focus on the ball, not on me.” Soobin teases you back, but it makes your stomach flip anyway. You clear your throat after his words hang in the empty air, finally taking a deep breath before preparing to swing.

“I can do both.” You admit, far too quickly than you’d like, and you feel your cheeks heat up right after. You hear Soobin let out a laugh again before you laugh along, finally focusing the majority of your attention on the machine.

You only just let out a full breathe before the white ball is shooting out from the pitching square and flying rapidly towards you. You can feel yourself react a few seconds too late, and the ball goes rushing past you and clashes harshly into the fence just right of you as you swing, body spinning as you lose your footing from your uneven swing.

Soobin is right by your side now, trying to hold back his giggles as you stumble.

“Oh my- are you okay?” He beams, trying not to tease you.

“I’m fine.” You huff, shrugging his hands off your shoulders nonchalantly from where they touched your skin, feeling it tingle from where his fingers came in contact. You pretend not to notice. You feel a bit embarrassed.

“You gotta swing a little earlier,” Soobin encourages you, backing up swiftly before finding his spot against the fence again, “Focus on swinging as soon as it leaves the pitch so you’ll knock it as soon as it gets to you.”

You nod at his words, stabilizing your footing again before looking straight ahead again. You take another deep breath and grip the bat in your hands tightly, trying to do exactly as he told you. A beat passes and another ball is being shot towards you, causing your nerves to spike as soon as it gets closer.

You swing too soon.

You whine a bit as the fence behind you shakes, the force of the ball setting it out of balance as the sound echoes off it. Soobin is laughing now, finally moving back towards you before the next ball comes.

“Okay,” He starts, hands suddenly on your arms. Every nerve springs to attention where he touches, hyper aware of how he feels against you. You let out a soft sigh, hoping he can’t hear it.

“So you need to hold the bat up more.” He explains, fingers enclosing around yours as his front meets your back just slightly, helping you get your grip right. He gently taps your shoe with his, causing you to spread your stance again with a small, “Oh.” 

“Now that your stance is good, twist your body. Not a lot, just slightly for your force.”

Soobin twists with you to the right, helping you stop just where you need to.

You wonder, suddenly, if he’s done this before. Not the baseball part, because obviously he has, but the flirting part. Helping other girls with their stances and so on. It’s a good move - practically a classic. You wouldn’t be that surprised if he’s done it before.

Soobin’s voice suddenly starts shaking, just slightly and almost unnoticed by you as his body comes in contact with yours a bit more when he speaks again, almost taken over by his nerves. The previous thought disappears instantly. 

You realize now - he hasn’t.

“I- okay.” He says softly, “When the ball comes, wait until you know you’ll swing and hit it. You have to time it perfectly.” Soobin is patient with you, hands hesitating on yours longer than they need to before he steps back, taking all his warmth and scent with him. You miss him as soon as he steps away, before catching yourself. You remember that you need to focus.

“Okay.” You say, determined to hit the ball this time. You take another breath, your third ball is the final one, and you know you can’t miss now.

Mercilessly, the ball shoots from the machine with no time to spare, and you force yourself to wait - to time it and not swing too soon or too late. You force yourself to get it perfectly.

Crack!

The ball flies opposite from the direction it came. You’re barely able to focus on that though, because along with the metal in your hands sending a painful vibrating feeling through your hands from the force, your body still hasn’t registered that the ball is far gone. It still moves along with your arms, sending your feet out of balance again as you tip to the left as your balance falters.

The bat falls to the ground with a repeated clanking sound, but you barely notice. You notice Soobin’s presence again, only just a second too late as you trip over your footing, sending him down with you as your body throws his balance off as well.

“Oh shi-” 

You’re unable to finish your sentence as you both slip, knees burning underneath you as your bodies come in contact with the artificial flooring and then each other, Soobin’s body already taking more of the impact than yours.

You can still feel his hands gripping your hips when the world stills, pain shooting through your left side intently. 

It all happens so fast it’s almost impossible to know it even happened until it’s over, your body throbbing in pain as you realize what happened. Both your helmets lay next to the two of you, flipped upside down.

“Oh god.” Soobin suddenly groans from underneath you, taking a shaky breath.

“I’m so so-”

You finally meet his eyes, heart dropping at your current position.

Soobin is underneath you, eyes no longer covered by his glasses but closed tightly as his head rests against the floor, only inches from yours. Your bodies are pressed against eachother’s, limbs intertwined messily due to your fall.

You’re level when he finally opens his eyes, meeting yours.

All the words you had planned on saying are wiped from your mind when Soobin looks up at you.

“I...” You try again, finally realizing the intensity of all of this.

You see emotion flash in Soobin’s eyes when he realizes too - but he doesn’t move. His hands keep their place on your hips as you both breathe heavily, staring into the other’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Soobin says softly, even though it wasn’t his fault. Your eyebrows furrow as his soft breaths splay over your cheeks in light puffs. Soobin smells of mint, and your stomach flips at the softness of his tone.

“It was my fault.” You retort, aware of the feeling of his large body against yours. Every single cell in your body is screaming at the feeling, but you try and act unaffected. Soobin, on the other hand, doesn’t try as hard.

His eyes trail down from your eyes to your lips before moving back up, head tilting just slightly. It’s almost like Soobin is curious - just to see how you react to him like this. You feel the crackle of excitement and nerves find place in your stomach, and your cheeks heat up with a blush you know Soobin sees.

It’s all on him, you think. It’s his move.

After all, you aren’t bold enough to make the first move with Soobin. You think he knows this.

“Maybe we...” Soobin hesitates, eyes flashing with emotion, “Um- maybe we should move on from baseball. We both suck at it.”

And just like that, the moment is gone.

“Ah, yeah.” You cut through the silence, clearing your throat before your hands plant themselves on his shoulders, lifting yourself up and off of him. Soobin lets out a sigh as you move farther away, almost looking less nervous, and you pretend you don’t notice. Your knee burns at it comes in contact with the floor, but you ignore it and push up off it, regain your footing steadily again.

Your nerves die down, the feeling of hope stamped down in a cloud of smoke as Soobin stands up, brushing his hands on his jeans lightly before he leans to grab the bat abandoned a few feet away along with his, luckily, unharmed glasses. You know that the machine times out after three balls each so theres no need to worry about it going off again. The only worry in your mind is Soobin and how the two of you will interact after what just happened.

You don’t want to make it awkward, so you try your hardest not to.

“I hit it.” You speak up, hoping Soobin accepts the transition easily.

Relief floods your veins when he smiles over at you from the bat rack.

“I know, you hit it pretty hard too. You should try out for softball next season.”

Things slip back into their own rhythm as you two laugh, the moment gone but not forgotten as you meet back up near the exit and leave the batting cages after putting everything away, walking back into the main junction of the building to choose a new game. Your heart feels better when Soobin gives you his best smile, calming you down.

“So, basketball?” He asks, reaching in his back pocket for the small map provided when you two first came in displaying the location of every activity the company provides.

“Ooh, yes. I’m actually decent at basketball.” You nod, skipping slightly out of excitement as Soobin maneuvers you both around other people, holding onto your wrist gently again as he does so, not wanting to lose you in the process.

“We’ll see about that,” The corners of Soobin’s lips tilt up, “I was the captain of the basketball team last season.”

“You were also one of the best baseball players last season, but look what happened there,” You tease, reffering to him barely hitting the ball.

Soobin presses a hand to his chest to feign offense as you two finally step onto the joined court surrounded by slightly padded high walls and beams, and it makes you laugh. After a moment, you look around at your surroundings. Dozens of basketballs occupy each rack set up near the entrance, all in different colors, and the baskets are high on their beams on each side of the court. You aren’t that confident in your sport abilities, but you hope you are actually decent when it comes to this. You can only imagine how cocky Soobin will be if he wins. The thought itself makes you want to laugh again.

“So should we have a fair game, or just do free throws?” Soobin questions softly, already grabbing a bright green ball from the rack.

“You realize you’re like six fucking feet tall, right?” You ask Soobin incredulously. He snorts and then covers his mouth at your small outburst.

You laugh and continue, “We aren’t playing against each other. Let’s just see who gets to three points first and then go eat something?”

Your suggestion is met with a competitive Soobin speaking up suddenly.

“Okay, loser buys dinner.”

“This is a date, Soobin”

Soobin pouts at your words, and you have to hold back from smiling too wide.

“I mean if you want me to pay for dinner,” You backtrack, watching as Soobin retracts the idea immediately. 

“Okay, nevermind, loser has to do rockclimbing and climb to the very top.”

You think about this for a moment before agreeing. 

“Fine, loser rock climbs.”

Soobin is happy with this as he starts dribbling the ball excitedly, standing in place as he warms up a bit. You follow suit.

“How long have you played basketball for?” You ask him, not only wanting to know what you’re up against but also being curious about Soobin in general. The small talk up until now has been fairly basic, and you were ready to be a bit bold and ask Soobin some questions that have been on your mind.

“Around ten years.” He answers honestly, lifting the ball to spin it on one finger.

“Jesus, I played for one.” You say back, trying to do the same but failing miserably. Soobin blushes as he watches you scramble to grab the ball again, dimple showing.

“I’ll go easy on you, then.” He says. The words register deep in your stomach and you scoff at him, trying to appear normal. Soobin moves back to finally start the game, gesturing to the basket with his free hand.

“You can go first.” He says. You nod and bend your knees a bit, rolling your shoulders slightly to loosen up before raising the ball, preparing to shoot.

Soobin’s hand flashes in front of your view, acting like he is going to stop the ball before it even leaves your hands

“No cheating!” You laugh at him, moving farther away. 

Soobin laughs loudly and it echoes off the gym walls, making you shake your head. You take a deep breath and sush him, going again.

The ball soars through the air and slams noisily against the backboard after you throw it with all the strength you can muster, but instead of going through the hoop it knocks off the rim and meets the court again, bouncing towards you. You grab it easily as a groan leaves your lips.

“I’m scared of heights.” You say to Soobin, hoping this gives him the idea to go easy on you. He shakes his head and hides the permanent grin that has been on his lips all night.

“Better get over that fear real soon, sweetheart.” Soobin throws the ball towards the basket, and it falls in easily after he does so. Soobin yells out what sounds like a mix of ‘woah’ and ‘yeah’, and raises his arms in triumph, almost as if he didn’t even expect himself to make it, before you’re protesting and moving to shove his arms down jokingly.

“That’s not even fair!” You’re laughing, shoving him with your shoulder as he pokes his finger against your ribcage. Soobin runs forward to grab his ball after it bounces closer, jogging over to be by your side again once he grabs it.

“This is a fair game.” Soobin chuckles before quieting himself down again.

You’re focusing on aiming when Soobin speaks up again.

“So can I ask you a question?” His voice is slightly more serious, and you shoot before answering, actually making a basket. You cheer loudly for yourself and run to get the ball, beaming at Soobin before you reply, “Yeah, what is it?”

“How come you’ve never talked to me before, except for that night in the library?” He asks carefully, curiosity lacing his words. 

You ponder this as Soobin shoots, the ball bouncing off the backboard and across the hoop, not going in. He sweeps it into his hand as it bounces back easily, starting to dribble it again. You step back up to shoot, deciding to just be honest with him.

“Well, I obviously had seen you around and wanted to talk to you, but the situation never really called for it.”

“Until your friend left us alone together?” He asks with a knowing smile.

“Until my friend left us alone together.” You agree without meaning to, shaking your head and throwing the ball to the basket again. It bounces against the rim and miraculously goes in, earning an excited yell from you. When you look back at Soobin he’s already looking at you.

“What about you?” You ask him, “How come you never talked to me?”

Soobin blinks at you, tilting his head gently. 

“I didn’t think you’d like someone like me.” He answers without hesitation before blindly throwing his shot, the ball going nowhere near the basket as it bounces off in the distance, loud against the wooden gym floor.

You open your mouth to speak as your brows furrow in confusion, but no words come out.

Soobin just gives you a soft smile, eyes never leaving yours.

“Looks like you win.”

Your leg bounces up and down anxiously as you sit at a small table in the food court, phone in hands as you await Yeonjun’s reply to the text you previously sent.

You know Soobin will be back with the food the he promised any minute now, and you took the chance to text Yeonjun as soon as he left, your nerves getting the better of you as soon as you had been left alone.

CALL ME ASAP. 911. 

You’ll admit that your text is fairly on the dramatic side, but this was an emegency. You needed your best friend’s advice.

You jump in your seat slightly as soon as your phone vibrates and a selfie you took with Yeonjun appears on your screen, signifying his call. You slide your thumb over the answer button and press it to your ear quickly.

“Who’s ass do I have to kick?” Yeonjun says before even saying hello, calming your nerves immediately. 

“No, dude, it’s nothing like that.” You speak down the speaker, looking around cautiously for Soobin. Yeonjun listens as you go on after a moment. 

“We had a moment.” You explain, brushing some hair behind your ear with your finger slightly, “Like, a moment moment.”

“Well yeah,” Yeonjun says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “You two have insane chemistry. I’d be worried if you didn’t have a moment.”

You roll your eyes, “Junie, I’m serious.”

“So am I!” He goes on, “You two are soulmates after all, what more can I say?”

You groan and cover your face with your hands, “I just feel like I’m fucking it all up, especially because we almost kissed-”

“Woah, back the fuck up?” Yeonjun stops you, “You two almost kissed? Like, actually almost kissed?”

“What do you think a moment is, dumbass?” You ask him.

“Like a holding hands moment or a cute flirty moment, I didn’t think he would try fucking making out with you on date number one!”

“It wasn’t like he meant to- oh my god I can’t explain this right now. Problem is, what if I ruin it all?”

“You won’t. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

This shuts you up.

“In the library he couldn’t stop staring at you. And on campus when you think he isn’t looking at you because you’re too busy hiding? Yeah, he is.”

“So you didn’t think to tell me this, oh I don’t know, before I was a complete blubbering idiot in front of him?”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference, if anything it would have made you even worse in front of him.” You can hear your friend cackling.

Soobin rounds the corner a few feet away, food in hands, and your heart suddenly leaps up in your throat.

“Oh fuck, I gotta go, he’s coming back.”

“Wait, Y/N,-”

“Bye!” You snap, ending the call and shoving your phone back into your pocket, trying to look natural as Soobin finally reaches the table you’re at.

“So,” He says instead of a greeting, “They had these really cool drinks with food in these small trays in the lid? I’ve never seen it before and thought you’d like it. Anyway, I got us some. I think they’re chicken nuggets.” You make an impressed face as Soobin sets your meal in front of you, noticing that he got you one of each sauce since he didn’t know your favorite yet. You hold back a full blown smile as he settles into the seat across from you.

“Very cool, thank you.” You say, giving him a grateful smile. He smiles back and tears open his own sauce packet, starting to eat. You do the same.

“Is this the part of our date where we ask our deep questions?” Soobin asks around a mouthful of chicken, cheeks full. You take a sip of your drink before raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, is it?” Soobin scrunches his nose up at your reply before giggling, and you swear it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“I think it’s gonna happen eventually. It may as well be now, since we have food here to comfort us if we make complete idiots out of ourselves.”

“You’re pretty confident in your idiocy.” You joke before taking a bite of your food, “But how do you know I’m the same?”

“You blush at a lot of the things I say.” Soobin answers, watching as your cheeks go red right after, “I know I’m able to make you nervous. And you’re like me, so when you get nervous you start rambling things out.”

You roll your eyes as if he’s wrong, but you know he’s spot on. 

“Yeah well your lisp gets worse when you’re nervous.” You say back, trying to one up him. His eyes widen in surprise at you.

“So does yours.”

“Shut up.” You laugh, “I barely have one anymore.”

“You have one, and it’s adorable.” He answers before dipping his head down to take another bite of his food, hiding from you. You want to compliment his back, but instead decide to change the subject.

“Okay okay, let’s get into these deep questions you had in mind. You start.”

“It was my idea.” Soobin pouts, making you whine playfully at him. You laugh and then speak again.

“Fine, I’ll start. Ummm...” You take second to think before a question pops into your head, “What’s your major and why?” 

Soobin perks up, “Not that deep but getting there. Was English but is now Communications. What’s yours?”

You were right about your assumption back in his dorm room and smile at his answer.

“Communications. Why’d you change from English?” You shoot back.

“Copycat,” He teases even though you had the major before him, “And I loved it, I just wanted a different type of job after awhile. I felt like English kind of restricted me to just one type of writing job, and I wanted to have a more creative career options in the future.”

You nod at his answer, agreeing completely. It seems you two were more alike than you thought.

“Okay your turn,” He says before taking another drink, awaiting your question. You make a face at him, “Uhhh no I already asked you.”

He shakes his head, “And I asked you your major.”

You glare, “You can’t bounce off my question and act like it’s yours too. Be creative, Soobin! Use those critical thinking skills of yours. Come on, wow me.” You’re teasing him, and he knows it. He’s shaking his head and chuckling as he thinks.

“Okay, fine. Tell me about one of your passions.”

You think about this for a second, eyes looking down at the table in thought before you answer, “Writing, probably. Reading doesn’t really count as a passion - it’s more of a hobby.”

Soobin looks pleased with your answer, nodding gently as you speak up again.

“Yours?”

“Nope, no bouncing off my question.” He says back smugly. You cover your face and laugh loudly, not even realizing your mistake.

“God, okay, tell me one of your hobbies.”

Soobin takes a drink and thinks about it for a few seconds.

“Maybe academics? I don’t know... I just... I like school,” He explains as he talks to you, “I just kind of do good because I’m a perfectionist. I have no choice there.” 

You nod, urgining him to continue. He adds to this quickly.

“My passion is dancing, I think.” He says this quietly, almost like he’s shy about it. You’re surprised at this.

“Dancing?” You ask, unsure if you actually heard him right.

He nods silently, a deep crimson powdering over his cheeks as he does. You’re surprised, but somehow, it totally makes sense. 

Soobin, although a jock, could be very unpredictable at times - and this was definitely one of those times. Dancing, you think. It’s impressive. 

“You didn’t strike me as a dancer.” You say honestly, “Considering you do sports most of the time.”

Soobin nods, “I’m not the only guy on the football team who does dance, which is really great and, like, super progressive, but I’m the only one who does it as a hobby and not seriously. I don’t know if I could do it seriously, or even professionally.”

The only other dancer on the team you know is Mark, but you don’t say anything. You keep on listening as he speaks, fully interested.

“I dance with my friend Beomgyu who’s, like, killer at it. We use the practice studio late at night when our classes are all done. He’s a dance major so he gets to practice whenever he wants which is really convenient for us.” 

You nod, “So how long have you been dancing?”

“Not long,” He answers honestly, “Maybe just over a year now. I don’t know, I’ve wanted to start for awhile but never did until just this year when I got the chance.”

“I think that’s really cool.” You smile at him finally, watching as his face lights up.

“Thank you, I try.”

You both talk for a little while longer, sharing dreams and hopes, and things you never thought you’d even tell eachother before finally finish your food and standing to throw away your trash. You can’t help but yawn a bit once you’re finally done, tiredness finally hitting you once you realize it’s well past 9 at night.

“Are you tired?” Soobin asks, hand suddenly running up and down your arm soothingly. You lean into him, nodding a bit, “It is getting late, but I still want to watch you do rock climbing.”

Soobin laughs, “I think it’s probably closed by now, but for one of our next dates we can come back and you can watch me break my leg while rock climbing.”

You ignore the way hope crawls up your body, knowing that Soobin wants a next time. You blush and nod softly, letting Soobin see that you’re fine with it before he leads you both to the exit, finally taking you back home.

The sky is clear as you both walk the short distance from Benny’s back to campus, and somehow, Soobin’s hand has entangled itself in yours as you two walk, gently rubbing circles on the outside of your palm as you two make small conversation. It feels so right - all of it. Your heart beats steadily in your chest as you walk through the cool night air with Soobin.

“-And that’s why I chose to move so far for college, I guess.” You finish what you were previously explaining, glancing over at a nodding Soobin.

“I think it’s brave that you moved so far away to achieve your goals. It’s admirable, really.” 

You laugh gently at this, appreciating his words.

“I feel like-” Soobin hesitates, “Well... I don’t know, I feel comfortable like this.” He speaks up, looking at you as you two walk. A slight breeze blows, sending your hair in front of your face gently.

Soobin doesn’t hesitate to reach up and brush the few strands behind your ear, lips tugging up at the corners after.

“Me too.” You agree softly, finally spotting your dorms a few yards away, “I’ll be honest, I was really nervous for tonight.”

Soobin laughs, almost not believing you.

“So was I, but you shouldn’t have been, it’s just me.”

“I know,” You nod as the two of you reach the dorm’s entrance, “I just couldn’t help it, I guess.”

Soobin nods a final time, showing he understands before stopping in front of you. Even though the two of you are done walking, his hand still holds yours lightly, causing goosebumps to spread over your skin. You try to shake the feeling but can’t.

“So next time I’ll kick your butt at baseball.” Soobin jokes, eyes crinkling up cutely as you laugh. 

“Okay, we’ll see about that.” You hide your face behind one hand, trying to cover up as you laugh at him. You don’t notice Soobin moving until your other hand is being pulled down away from your face, and is entwined in his.

“You’re pretty when you laugh.” Soobin says softly, sending butterflies loose in your stomach.

“I-,” He corrects himself, “I mean you’re pretty all the time, not just when you laugh.”

You giggle, “You’re pretty too.”

Soobin’s cheeks redden, like he’s never been praised for his looks before, and then his grin drops a bit.

His eyes are back to flashing down your face, to your lips, and you feel the tension start to rise again; the same feelings from earlier hitting you in what can only be described as a whirlwind of emotion.

You tilt your head just slightly, watching him. You don’t know what he’ll do next - or if he’ll even do anything - but part of you hope he does.

“I...” You start but your word hangs in the air as soon as Soobin steps closer, one hand loosening from yours to move up and cradle your face gently. His fingers are soft on your skin as you gaze into his soft eyes, breathing erratic. 

“Is this... is this okay?” Soobin whispers, words almost lost in the nighttime breeze as he dips his head down, moving that much closer to you. His lips are inches from yours now, and your senses are heightened.

You just manage to nod before Soobin does the same, his other hand which is holding yours starting to shake. You glance down to make sure it’s not just you shaking, but your eyes flash back up when you realize it’s not.

You make it a rule to not kiss guys on the first date - but for the first time ever, you think it would be okay to break that rule. 

Soobin’s breath is gentle on your skin as he lets out a soft sigh, voice coming out a few octaves deeper when he speaks again.

“Can I- would it be okay if I did something I should have done earlier?”

You’re nodding before you realize you are, and it’s like the whole world around you stops as Soobin nods in affirmation before slowly leaning in.

You feel the way your breath catches in your throat as soon as Soobin’s mouth slots against yours, and his soft lips press lightly against slightly parted ones. The kiss is gentle, and you two hardly move the whole time, scared that if one person does, the spell will be broken and real life will come crashing down around the two of you. 

You feel yourself sigh when he momentarily pulls away, but his hand pulls you closer afterwards, surprising you by looping around your waist and bringing you firmly against him.

This kiss is better than the first.

Soobin’s hand is steady against your hip, and his thumb strokes your jaw lightly as he kisses you, teeth grazing your bottom lip as it deepens, evoking a deep sigh from you. You want to be closer to him - ironically, since you’re already as close as you can get - and you know he feels the same. His chest is rising and falling when you two finally detach, and his cheeks are pink. Soobin’s hands are still shaking.

You laugh lightly, unable to do anything else. Soobin does the same, both of you buzzing with nerves.

“I... okay.” He struggles for words, stepping back slightly, giving you space.

“Thank you... for tonight.” You clarify, moving to grab your keys from your jacket pocket. Soobin is already nodding.

“It’s no problem. Thank you for going.” You nod back, smiling again.

“I’ll call you, I promise.” Soobin adds, dimples appearing on both of his cheeks. Your heart warms at the sight.

“I’m looking forward to it.” You say, biting your lip as Soobin steps even farther away.

“Okay, I’ll see you, Y/N.” Soobin says sweetly, hands burying in his hoodie pockets before he walks backwards towards the sidewalk again.

“See you, Soobin.” You smile before finally going inside, heart pounding.

You close the door behind you, and with your heart soaring and one of the brightest smiles ever adorning your face, you make your way to your bedroom, unable to hide the excitement you have for the next time you’ll be able to see him.

Because that’s what Soobin does - you suddenly realize.

He gets under people’s skin, and he brings light into them. 

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as you finally enter your room, closing the door behind you.

Soobin had gotten in just a little bit tonight, and had started to let some of the light into you. And after everything that had happened -  you were letting him.

[whitewolfbumble]

Expressions of Love -  Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You have the ability of physical attraction- more a curse than a power- that makes you a particular asset to the team. Distancing yourself for your own protection and while personally knowing nothing of love, you thought of yourself as somewhat of an expert on the topic when it came to the members of the team. All except Steve, who you were closest with and for some reason couldn’t keep away from.

Prompt: “I keep drawing you in my sketchbook because I’ve always found you to be beautiful and I’m longing to tell you how I feel, but one day you find it and you have questions”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: People get unwantedly handsy/gropey with you and there is low-grade recurring trauma from it (please don’t read if you think that in any way would bother/trigger you!), a fight breaks out, Reader is a bit touch-starved, kinda hurt/comfort?, Protective!Steve is protective, 

Word Count: 8k 

A/N: Somehow this is my first Steve Rogers x Reader fic??? And it happens to be for @stanclub’s 2.5 Writing Challenge! Hope you enjoy darling!

MY MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

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“We could use a distraction here,” Nat said lowly in the comm, crouched behind the safety of a large tree some distance away, blasts and gunshots ringing through the air. “This isn’t a cell group at all.”

“It’s a small army out here,” Bucky said, finishing her thought with the ratatat of his machine gun pinging off.

You were already off the quinjet at that point, boots softly crunching down on the thin and hard layer of snow that covered the forest. Without the sun for warmth on this blue-grey morning it wasn’t all too bad out, leaving you in a long-sleeved shirt, trimmed vest, and fingerless gloves that had you blending into the scenery. The elements weren’t what you needed to be hidden away from anyway, but a group of high-tech extremists whose base was a few hundred metres ahead.

The team was already engaging them, the fight starting off easy and as planned, but was fast devolving into something far more precarious and bloody.

“I’m making my way over, just tell me when,” you said.

“Y/N,” Steve responded. “We’ll manage here on our own, I don’t w-”

A yelp rang through the air, jarring and pained. The sound stopped you in your tracks, footsteps faltering. It lasted only a moment.

“Clint’s hit!” Nat said.

If the first sound caused you stop still, that one made you sprint into action, the crunch of footfalls hitting the ground hard as you took off sprinting. The deep of the woods did nothing to impede you, weaving through statuesque trees and bare brambles to get to your companions in the fray.

“It’s bad,” she continued after a moment, voice tight in her throat between your heavy puffs of air as you ran. “We need to get him out of here now.”

You soon saw the team up ahead, their figures muted through the hazy cold of the morning and coming in flashes of colour. Black for Nat and purple for Clint, huddled together and struggling to stand. Black and silver for Bucky, providing cover for the pair as his gun didn’t stop firing and determination didn’t falter a second. The deep blue of Steve, shield whipping out and back to his hand faster than you could track. A flash the red and gold for Tony, flying through the tops of the trees while dodging fiery blasts. Another shot of red was Thor, barreling on top of tanks and throwing down Mjolnir to crumble the metal below his feet.

But the dark green-clad figures of the enemy were everywhere and for every one the Avengers took down, it was like two more rose in their place. Often times on missions you were outmanned- that wasn’t anything new- but this was brutally so, and clearly here you were vastly out-gunned too.

“There aren’t too many, it’ll be fine,” you said between clenched teeth, looking out to the scene in front of you and trying not to let the gritty apprehension you felt settle into your bones. “Call it, Captain. I’ll be ready.”

You saw Steve fighting straight ahead, throwing punches as Tony whipped by him, momentarily clearing the way for him to speak.

“Alright, but we’ll be right here,” he assured, a concerned edge to his voice as there always was when you did this. He turned from his position if only briefly to try and spot you through the trees. For a second his eyes held yours. “We’ve got you, Y/N.”

You nodded as he turned back to the fight, somewhat encouraged by his words even if your hands were shaking just slightly. You sidestepped out from being half-hidden behind a tree trunk and into the small clearing in front of you.

You took several deep slow breaths, purposefully exhaling out your power into the space around you. It filled this morning winter scene, seeking out the enemies the Avengers were fighting against. In your mind you focused on the green-clad men, just focusing and breathing and letting your power trickle free, coming loose from some hidden place inside you.

“Look out team,” you said in warning, voice suddenly calm and smooth, matching the expression on your face as you kept your eyes closed.

Your hands weren’t shaking any more as one raised in front of you, holding it out as though reaching for something.

The gunshots suddenly stopping short was the first sign, and the second was the crunching of snow as innumerable footsteps began to move closer to you, slow and steady.

Cracking open your eyes as you felt a firm and steady handle on the power seeping from you, you saw them coming closer, emerging from the forest like the living dead. Their eyes were transfixed on you singularly and their hearts beat under their chest a mile a minute, a chorus flooding the forest with the sound of drums.

You were “calling” them to you in a sense and it set off a longing for you so deep in their souls and bodies that they lost sight of the fight, each other, and themselves in the process. The only thing they wanted in that moment was you and you alone. It was something primal and all-consuming.

And that was your ability; to have people desire you so deeply it consumed and clouded them from everything but you.

Nat and Clint, with the help of Vision, were well on their way to the quinjet and part of you hummed with ease at that. With the mob of people slowly making their way to you, the rest of the team worked to incapacitate them as fast as they could. Through training and focus your teammates could fight your abilities somewhat- and you did you best not to target them- but it was an unspoken struggle on both sides.

Still, the mass of dark-clad and faceless people kept coming in droves, despite how many the team were getting too. God, you should have started this farther back, you didn’t realize their numbers as they practically emerged from the woodwork to surround you.

You felt a hand grip your shoulder, wretching you back and trying to take hold of you. Without breaking concentration you took hold of their hand, ripping it off of you and half-turning your body to snap their wrist bone, sending the assailant to their knees. With a kick to the head they were out like a light and you were back to the matter at hand.

The facts were that you didn’t have super strength, you weren’t a super spy with super skills, and if you snapped the mob out of this before they got to you, there was no guarantee all of them would actually stop their insatiable want for you. You were trusting the team to incapacitate them in time, and they were trusting you to hold out long enough for them to do so.

Sometimes the longer you held people under your sway the more crazed they got, and sometimes the longer you held them the harder it was to keep it up. It just depended on the individual, and in a mob like this, you had to use a significant amount of your power to keep everyone under the same level of influence. Meaning you were now piling on the power to those who were already crazed enough.

Another hand, this time on your hip, gripped you. Before you could so much as move you saw someone appear from the side and grab you across your waist. Another wrapped their arms around you from behind, trying to rip you away from the other two.

Shit!

“Let go Y/N!” shouted someone, but frantically above the encroaching mob like a sea of dark green in front of you, you couldn’t tell who.

You swung out elbows and used just about every maneuver Clint, Nat, Bucky, and Steve had collectively taught you, but it was too much. Too many hands now began to cover your body, scratching at you and pulling your skin and your clothes and your hair. Your vest was torn in two, one boot ripped off, and you felt the heat of blood cooling fast all over as your skin was torn open under fingernails.

You pulled back your power like a rubber band, hoping that whoever of the mob was left would still be dazed enough for the team to take them down before they could start firing again.

In a rush you were pulled down to the ground with countless people falling on top of you, crushing and stealing the air from your lungs in a bone-rattling thud. You couldn’t breathe- could barely move- as people consumed and overwhelmed every sense you had.

As you felt yourself drowning in skin and pressure that made you want to scream, a sudden hit of cold air entered your lungs. It was the sweetest you had ever tasted, bodies being thrown off of you and the shining glimmer from a shield, a hammer, and a metal suit flashing somewhere through the crushing mob.

A deep navy-clad arm reached down by way of life raft and you scrambled to grip it through the horde covering you. The arm roughly pulled you up and out of the clutches of the mob, and you launched yourself towards the body it was attached too. You gripped the frame of Steve as he held you tightly, holding you firm to his body and sprinting from the mob as though you weighed nothing.

You were jostled hard for a few moments before you were carefully set down against a tree. Eyes closed, you breathed deep, shaking breathes of the cold, clear air. As you did, you felt the feather-light touches of his hands searching across the tattered, barely held together garments that hung from you. It was blissfully so unlike the hard, demanding gropes of countless hands that were just trying to tear you apart.

You wanted to commit that feeling to memory forever, to hold that feeling close to you in the dead of night when you woke up terrified from nightmares and gasping for freedom. You wanted those light, caring, deft fingertips and broad, warm, caressing hands on you always, to shake away every other horrible feeling of unwanted flesh groping yours.

Only after a moment of his studying your frame for serious injury did you open your eyes, looking up to the super soldier. His light blue eyes were a picture of concern, brimming with emotions rippling through his eyes too fast for you to decipher in your spent state. You felt the ghost of his fingers cradle your jaw, the other settling lightly on your hip to steady you.

“Tell me that helped,” you murmured shakily, grabbing onto his arm as though grounding yourself to the safe presence that was your dear friend. “Or at least lie to me if it wasn’t?”

“It helped,” he said, his light blue eyes shining again as though sunlight glinting off the ocean. Now you were aware enough to see a calm and relief spread through his muscles as you spoke and joked, signaling to him you were fine. “I don’t need to lie about that.”

You gripped him tighter, trying to move to get up, screwing your eyes shut against the sharp flashes and throbbing pulses of pain that moved through you.

“No, you’re done here,” he said, words firm and kind, keeping you from moving. When he spoke next it was into the comm. “Y/N’s okay, I’m getting her back to the jet. Let’s get this wrapped up.”

When he picked you up it was both fast and hesitant, and you couldn’t understand why, but then again, you never could. It was always Steve to get you, who pulled you from danger long before your stupidly self-sacrificing nature would allow. Always Steve who gently set you down and created a wall of protection with his own body. Always Steve who lightly touched you, checking for injury with those caressing fingers and under those caring eyes. Always Steve who picked you up and carried you back to the safety of the quinjet or a safehouse or home base.

It was always him, and you knew somewhere deep that it would only be him. Though it remained some unspoken, unacknowledged secret, neither of you would allow anyone else to.

So when he held you to his body, you found your favourite spot against him, head pressed gently into the crook of his neck, pain be damned, and focused on what could anchor you to him in this moment. His scent of sweat and adrenalin and clean soap filled your nose. The only thing you could see was him. The only feeling you focused on was his muscles under you and the cage of his arms, firm but gentle, hesitant but confident.

“I’m alright,” you whispered into his skin. Maybe to steady him, maybe to steady yourself. You didn’t know. “I’m okay… I’m okay.”

The words were punctuated with watery tears building, seeping from your eyes and down his neck. They formed and spilled as you felt this episode added to the black swirl of nightmares ever-churning at the back of your mind. You swallowed, trying to force down the whole thing from your mind but it didn’t work. It never did.

A venom and bitterness sprung up in your mouth as you pushed yourself closer to him, a loathing spreading through as it always did after using your ability.

You hated it. Hated using it. Manipulating people to “love” you and want you? It was sick and twisted and deplorable and you hated it. Far beyond just the injuries it caused you.

But the rational part of your mind reasoned, as it always did, that you saved your team members. It was a mantra that was getting old. They could have called in Bruce or you could have insisted they did, but the casualties would have been so much higher.

So you held on to Steve and he held you together.

______

A week later after the mission was done, the enemy rounded up and shipped to the Raft courtesy of Ross, things had eased back into the usual running of things, as it always did.

Through the afternoon, as was customary, the rest of the team had been getting ready and heading out for their respective Friday night plans. Even Clint was well enough now to head back home for some deserved rest and relaxation.

It left you and Steve at the kitchen island, him reading the newspaper and you sipping a cup of calming tea, while Bucky and Nat were grabbing a bottle of water post-training and pre-date night. The airy space seemed all the brighter and energetic with those two here.

“C’mon, Y/N,” called out Bucky to you, though his eyes remained on Natasha, a small mischievous smile on his face as she finished the water bottle. “I think it’s time you snapped me out of this already.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at the brunette super soldier, not seeming overly bothered as you turned back down to your tea warming your hands.

“I told you Buck,” you said, taking a sip as you watched the flirting couple, a sad tinge of envy nagging at you. “This is definitely not me.”

“Oh? So, you taught Nat your ways, did you?” he teased, following closely behind the redhead as she walked out of the kitchen, hand on her hip and satisfied curve on his lips.

She could lead him to the end of the world and he’d probably follow. You had yet to see the love they had for each other reach a limit yet.

Expressions of love across the team were as varied as the members themselves you had found since joining them.

It was impossible not to see Bucky’s smirk of adoration when he sat back and watched Nat train or kick ass or even just walked by him. She was more apt for soft teases in close quarters (which he was picking up on now too, apparently) or colding demolishing anyone on the battlefield that so much as looked at Bucky in a way she didn’t like. He loved sitting back and watching her be her, while her attitude was one of “I can toy with him but don’t you even think about it”.

Tony was devoted eternally and completely to Pepper. Sometimes his gestures for her sparked teasing discussions about what terrible or inconsiderate thing he had done this time. But guilt was never his motivation with her. His constant striving to do right by her filled his mind and thoughts constantly. He was astounded by her, talking a mile a minute to hide the fact that a hundred of his words would only equal one word spoken from her lips. She, on the other hand, was generally the level-headed, cooling, and calming presence to his genius, scattered life. She brought balance to him: joy when he was upset, calm when he was anxious, and a fiery spirit of challenge when he needed a kick in the pants.

Bruce had Betty, though that was hardly a traditional relationship. Distance was how he showed his love for her, refusing to allow himself even the possibility of hurting her. So not exactly a touchy-feeling situation, for obvious reasons. You hadn’t actually met her yet, only seeing pictures and hearing Bruce’s soft words of praise. A particular demure smile would follow whenever he mentioned her, usually followed by a fond-feeling silence.

Sam had a few relationships in your time here, with his smile wider, jokes lighter, and praises readily given to those around him when he found someone new that caught his eye. It was very easy to tell with him when were was someone new in his life, with joy positively beaming from him the moment he walked into a room.

Clint would talk of his acts of service when he returned back to the compound after seeing his family. How he put new flooring in the dining room because Laura’s sock got caught on a loose floorboard and almost made her trip with the newest family addition in her arms. Or that he took out a linen closet to add another walk-in closet for her, because the thought of asking her to purge some of her clothes didn’t even enter his mind. Anything she needed, he readily gave without her needing to ask.

Vision talked a lot to Wanda. He was constantly trying to find the right words to put a smile on her face or hear that twinkling laugh from her. While Wanda herself was more patient with him than anyone else, a happy gleam in her eyes and wry smile on her lips as Vision talked on (and on… and on…).

Now Steve? Well, you had yet to really pinpoint his defining characteristic yet. You could say he was gentlemanly, fair, considerate, fought endlessly for those he loved. But romantic love? You had yet to really see him in love or even in moderate like yet. Even with Natasha and the others offering up possible options for company on a Friday night, similar as they did with you. And like you, he always declined.

It sat like a stone brick in your stomach, thinking of the day when he would give in and say yes. To know someone else would get those light touches or breathe him in or spend your Friday night together as you had been, eating and talking and watching movies together.

But you had made it another week with him politely declining the offer for a blind date. Thank goodness. So once Nat and Bucky were out of the kitchen and the coast was clear, you hopped off your stool, walking around to roll up your sleeves and washed your hands.

“What’re we feeling tonight?” you asked, happily settling into the quiet of the evening and your usual Friday night routine with the only other single member of the team.

“Last week was fajitas?” Steve asked, setting down the paper mirroring your movements, sliding up beside you and washing his hands at the same time.

As usual, you felt the brush of his hip against yours. You smiled to yourself, happier than you had been in a week that he was still here with you and not off on some date with some woman.

“Yeah, I think we have chicken left in the freezer? I can quick thaw that and maybe we have something to make a casserole?”

Steve turned to the cupboard while you turned to the freezer, the two of you moving like a well-oiled machine. You pulled the chicken out of the freezer, popping it in the microwave while Steve rummaged through the cans and dry goods. You could picture the look slight concentration on his face and the bright blue of his eyes.

“Hmm, cream of broccoli?” he asked, throwing a can lightly over his shoulder.

You smiled, holding back a laugh as you caught it deftly, while the other one that immediately followed wasn’t so graceful.

“You’re getting good at that,” he noted, glancing your way with that winning grin of his as he pulled out a can opener.

“Well, this is what, the twenty-sixth Friday in a row?” Steve saddled up to you again, arm brushing against yours as he started cracking open those cans. Maybe you shouldn’t feel so contented by the feel of him so close, but he was about the only one you’d let touch you outside of hand-to-hand combat training…. And even then, that was still mostly only Steve, actually. “I should be the best at this point.”

“Rice is on the counter,” he said, nodding back behind him with his grin only increasing.

“And I heave a big sigh of relief you didn’t throw that,” you remarked cheekily, bumping your shoulder on his arm as you went to put on the rice.

You could almost sense the eye roll and feel the warmth of his smile.

“I’ll never be able to apologize enough for that one, huh.”

“Considering that was the fourth Friday? Probably not.”

And so it continued as it always did, with easy grins, light brushes of skin on skin, friendly chatter with your… well, you were sure what to call Steve, really.

“Teammate” was too distant a word. He might be your friend, but he probably wasn’t your best friend, since he had Bucky. Can you be best friends with someone if they weren’t best friends with you? You’d ask yourself this before, with still no real definitive answer.

Relationships weren’t exactly your forté, considering you had to distance yourself from anyone and everyone, and certainly all those from your past. When your power was developing, it had been out of necessity. You weren’t in control of powers when it first started developing when you were a young teenager. Suddenly having to fight or flee became your life as the people around you were drawn to you beyond their control or yours.

It had been a dark time in your life. You had forced yourself to run away, to be alone, to not risk getting close to anyone. Even after you did have more control over your abilities, there was a distance you kept from those around you. Because what if you slipped up and you couldn’t get away?

But light came back to your life once you found the Avengers. And things got every brighter when you got closer to Steve. When you found yourself able to touch another person again without fear. When you trusted him to not only be able to protect himself from you but protect you from others. When you found yourself able to have him touch you. When you started living for those brief moments.

So while learning everything you could about Sam’s new girl (an old friend from the military days) both of you were too wrapped up in conversation to notice his arm up against yours on the island counter. That little bit of warmth from his skin and the cooling calm of those blue eyes filled you with ease and relaxed each and every muscle down to your toes.

You both were also too wrapped up in each other that you didn’t remember the casserole until it was far, far too late.

Your face quirked, eyebrows pulled together and chin lifted up a bit. You looked around the kitchen, sensing something off but not quite able to pinpoint what. Steve lightly took your hand, eyes searching yours for a moment.

“Is something... burning?” you asked, turning back to him.

Realization hit you both at once, Steve rolling his eyes at his lack of awareness and you both shot off your stools at the same time, sprinting around the island towards the oven.

The moment Steve opened up the oven a plume of smoke billowed out and took over the whole kitchen, the grey swirls pooling in a massive cloud at the ceiling. Both of you were reduced to coughs and sputters, him looking a bit amused and you looking rather abysmal. You were starving at this point, your stomach growling at the exact moment Steve reached in and gingerly pulled out the almost comically blackened casserole.

Not a moment later, the fire alarm started beeping at its most intrusive, ear-shattering pitch.

Both of you took to fanning the room with tea towels, still sputtering in the grey haze though this was a bit of a lost cause and you both knew it.

“It’s like the fourth Friday all over again,” he said loudly over the alarm.

“I’m surprised after the disaster of that night we still kept doing this,” you pointed out, earning a smirk from him. “Alright Captain, call it.”

His smile stayed, looking rather silly with his large muscled body fanning the air with a tiny tea towel to just about no avail.

“Team decision,” he said as his eyebrows pulled together with the same mock seriousness as you, though he couldn’t manage to dash the smile from his face. “Pizza or Thai?”

“Pizza,” you nodded firmly though your eyes began to burn a bit. “You stay and clean, and I’ll pick it up?”

“Affirmative,” he agreed, coughing as he waved smoke in front of his face. You grabbed your sweater slung on the back of the stool and dashed out, smiling as you left the poor thing to this disaster.

_______

You announced yourself by way of a slamming door and hard footsteps booming through the compound. Steve knew something was wrong before you even walked in, hearing how angry and upset you were before you entered the cleaned and much less smoky kitchen.

You blew into the white open space, your eyes red and watery and mouth set into a hard, angry line.

“What is it?” he asked before catching a good look at you. Once he did see the state you were in his tone turned into the same one he had on missions: firmer and deeper. “Y/N, what happened? Are you alright?”

You were already bee-lining right for him but he was too quick and met you halfway, coming right up to you with concern flashing hard and deep in his eyes. He grabbed the pizza boxes from your hands and set them blindly down on the kitchen island behind him, eyes flitting between yours.

“Some assholes at the pizza place,” you commented, running your hand through your hair, anxiety still rocking through you. “Some upstate frat boys here for the weekend, thinking they’re the irresistible ones and I’m some dumb piece of ass that likes being threatened and grabbed.”

“What did they do?” It was less a question and more a threat of action from the soldier. His bright blue eyes became dark and stormy instantly and you saw his fists clench and unclench beside him.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat (unsuccessfully) and before you leaned into the man in front of you, seeking out your favourite spot between his shoulder and neck, you moved away. You passed the brick house of a man, heading for the fridge and one of Clint’s beers. You grabbed two, both for you.

“It’s fine Steve,” you said, still upset and eyes still a puffy, watery mess. “I’m alright.”

You took a swig of the beer, feeling that warm presence walking up behind you. You turned, leaning back against the edge of the counter and tried to keep those burning tears from spilling over.

“I’m okay,” you said once you put down the beer on the counter. It didn’t sound all too convincing though, and you looked up to Steve, wondering if for one he believed it.

You had to admit that look in his eyes, though intense, was familiar and comforting. You were close enough to breathe in that clean smell of his. Feel the pleasant heat radiating off of him. Compounded with your racing heart and longing to feel him and the security he gave, you gave in.

Sighing, you held your elbows and leaned forward, resting your forehead against Steve’s chest.

“I’m okay.”

You felt his hands come up your back, hovering above the thin fabric of your shirt before connecting, holding you lightly, then closely. He wrapped his arms around you, so familiar and comforting. The both of you moved together, body pressing together out of habit and clicking together like puzzle pieces. You felt his fingers thread lightly through the ends of your hair, his other hand splayed out warmly, helping to ease the light shivering he felt moving through your spine.

When he spoke it was soft, leaning down to your ear, that soothing protective tone washing through you.

“Y/N,” he said, low and smooth. “You left with a sweater on… Where is it?”

You screwed your eyes shut tighter, moving up to that spot between his shoulder and neck, breathing him in deeply.

“Those guys… It wasn’t even that bad,” you said, though it wasn’t too convincing and it wasn’t even the point. The act itself was shocking and unwelcome, but it was the trauma it brought up was the worst of it. It always was. “They just- well, one of them grabbed my arm. He wouldn’t let go and the other just wouldn’t back off. He practically pinned me against the counter…  so I just punched him. Hard. Then zipped off my sweater so the other guy would let go and got out of there.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, and usually he wasn’t at a loss for words. He was always ready to give hard and motivating speech when things got rough, or kind word to ease things over, or some snappy, biting remark to the enemy.

“Steve?” you swallowed, a feeling of guilt mixing in with the other twisting in your chest.

When he didn’t respond you felt your shoulders slag, sadness hitting you.

“I know, I’m an Avenger,” you rambled quickly, trying to fill the silence since he wouldn’t. You didn’t even look up to see what those blue eyes would tell you. “I know I shouldn’t have just punched the guy; I should have gotten out without going violent on him. But he wasn’t letting go and he was too close and you know I can’t handle that from anyone but you and yes I know how to get out of a hold like that but I wasn’t thinking I was just hurting and I’m sorry, alright?”

Your chest heaved against his, wrought with emotions and words tumbling too fast from our mouth to breathe.

“This isn’t your fault, Y/N,” Steve started, tone controlled but edged with something upset. Something hurting. You felt it. You knew that feeling. “I’m just angry. At them, that they touched you. I’m angry I wasn’t there to do something about it. I should have been there.”

At that he looked down to you but you didn’t meet his gaze, just wrapped your arms around his neck, breathing him in again.

“It’s just pizza,” you said after a moment, the shivering having stopped and emotions settling little by little at his words. “And it’s not that big a deal, I’m just… Well, I’m just me. I should expect this.”

“Don’t do that,” he said, firm tone coming out again as his head rested against yours. “This wasn’t you overreacting and it wasn’t your fault, Y/N.”

“Okay, but only if you don’t blame yourself for it either.”

You looked up then, seeing a twist to his lips that wasn’t quite a smile but certainly was confirmation of your assumption he’d somehow feel guilty over this. Although it wasn’t exactly accurate to say, still, leave it to Steve to feel upset over staying behind to clean up rather than getting pizza.

“No promises,” was his final verdict.

You closed your eyes, settling back into him. You probably should have backed away. You should have given him maybe what would have been a hollow but encouraging smile, something to show you were in fact okay. You would then make some remark about the pizza getting cold and grab some plates. The two of you would then sit at the kitchen, eating the cooled pizza and maybe eventually chatting. Maybe your arm would touch his again or your foot would move next to his or something. Neither of you would mention it, and that would be okay.

But you didn’t. You stayed, coiled up and wrapped up in him as you had done at the end of missions. But this time there had been no mission and there was no threat, no injury, no need for Steve to be the leader and take care of you like this. And yet there you were.

You wanted to say something to him, maybe to justify this connection or even try to make this last longer, but you couldn’t think of the words. Whatever Steve was thinking, maybe he couldn’t think of the words either.

He bent down a little, a noise of displeasure squeaking out of your throat without you meaning to, before his arm went to the top of your thighs, hoisting you up and carrying you in his arms. Your eyes went a bit wide but you certainly didn’t want to fight it or ask why and jinx it.

Steve paused a moment, handing you the opened beer bottle from the counter before you slowly took it from him. He then walked over to the edge of the counter and picked up pizza boxes with his free hand. He carried you in one arm and held your dinner in the other, as though neither weighed a thing. Admittedly, the pizza didn’t, but you were a different story.

Regardless you let the protest out of common decorum die in your throat as he walked you through the compound and to his room. You even reached out and opened the door as you got there.

Once the pair of your entered, you were greeted with the faintest smell that was Steve: sweat and soap and comfort. It was similar in style and configuration as most other bedrooms there were: a large bed on one wall with a door to the bathroom or closet on either side, and a couch, small table, and TV on the other half of the room. You had been Steve’s room a number of times- at least twenty-six times in fact- as was the second part to your usual Friday tradition.

Yes, Steve had a love for training and fitness and leading and strategizing. But the quieter side to him love the contemplation of certain activities like reading, or visiting museums, or listening to music. So along those lines the two of you began to watch films together on Fridays after dinner, picking one popular or critically acclaimed movie from each year since he went under the ice. It brought the modern world into view for him, caught him up perhaps on some things he missed, and you weren’t exactly a gym-buff yourself so this was a nice compromise for you too.

The two of you had just hit the seventies.

The pizza boxes hit the little coffee table with a satisfied thunk, but you were lowered to the couch a lot softer and certainly with more care. Steve sat with you, still holding on, though his grip loosened enough for you to lean back a little, showing him a soft smile.

There was a long moment where he didn’t move and neither did you. A thought was on the tip of Steve’s tongue, heavy and intent. But before he spoke his expression and tone shifted, coming lighter than you expected.

“Sam let me borrow tonight’s movie; want to eat and watch?” he said instead, giving you the feeling that it wasn’t what he had wanted to say.

“Sure,” you nodded, and it made you wondered if you have ever actually told him “no” before…

Steve got up with a smile, apparently choosing to put aside whatever it was on his mind and what had happened to you tonight. Of that last one you were thankful. You wanted him and pizza and a movie, the reality of everything else be damned.

“I thought Sam had given it to me,” he said, rummaging through the draw of the TV stand. “I thought I brought it back here…”

“Maybe he took it back?”

“Maybe,” he said, mulling it over but not convinced. “He gave it to me in the lounge. It might still be there, I’ll be right back.”

You watched him leave, debating as soon as he left whether to grab a slice of pizza. But your appetite wasn’t back yet really. Instead you brought your legs up to your chest, looking around the familiar room and waited.

Usually you would get into some comfy sweatpants post-dinner in your room, letting Steve clean up any unmentionables you doubted he actually left around his space. As you glanced around the room, that assumption seemed correct. Everything was tidy and neat, clearly the days in the army sticking with him as you had noted on occasion before.

After a minute you got up, spotting something on the nightstand that looked like a DVD case. It was tucked half under a large leather-bound book.

“I think I got it, Steve,” you shouted out, him probably not hearing you. You were about to call out again, but that leather book caught your eye. In all your time here, you couldn’t remember seeing it before.

Curiosity winning over any degree of boundaries, you put the DVD down and picked the book up.

You realized once you opened it that it was a sketchbook.

You flipped through wondering if this was something from his old days that Tony was able to dig up for him, but you noticed a drawing of the Avengers building, then the view of the lake from the compound. You were a bit surprised, considering how full this sketchbook seemed though never once had you spotted Steve sketching.

It was beautiful, Steve’s hands deft at bringing intricate details alive on the page. There were landscapes and architecture, all poised and full of life and realism, shadow and light. It was simply stunning.

But you frowned when you saw one of you.

It’s not that it wasn’t beautiful because it was, wonderfully so, and certainly a more flattering light than you thought you deserved. But you didn’t think you were worth taking up a space in a book so masterfully done as this was.

Flipping through you saw another one, this time you were holding a cup of coffee and looking out the kitchen window- nothing particularly special about it to note in a sketchbook- but the look you had was serene and joyful.

The next page was you asleep on the couch from this room.

The next was you again, this time with your eyes coloured in. It was the only colour in the book so far, everything else in charcoal grey.

You flipped the page over, and there you were, the colour in your eyes again but this time a better match than the last one.

As you turned page after page, they were all of you, the colour of your eyes the only colour on each page. The hues shifted slightly and changed as it went, but eventually you realized that he had been experimenting with it. Steve was clearly eventually able to find the exact right shade and intensity, and as you went through page after page after page, you saw that colour gleaming right off the page at you.

Steve had walked in so quietly you hadn’t realized, until a bit breathlessly you looked up, your eyes locked to his unreadable ones.

You held the book, not speaking for a moment as you looked at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you said, voice airy and shocked.

“The sketches they aren’t-” he began, not able to find the right words. “The sketches are just… I was just…”

“No, Steve,” you said quietly, knowing from the care and detail and sheer volume this wasn’t an exercise in practicing drawing a figure. These sketches spoke a thousand words and more. “Why didn’t you tell me about- about how you felt about me?”

Silence filled the room, getting heavier as his skin on his cheeks tinged redder.

Steve wasn’t one to back down from a confrontation or fight, and though this was neither, he didn’t back down now. It took a moment, but his gaze was steady as was his voice.

“I know you, Y/N,” he started. “I didn’t want to push you to something you didn’t want, and I didn’t want to lose you because of it. I couldn’t- I won’t be able to handle that.”

“You can handle anything,” you whispered, swallowing as you tried to move from shock to something useful in forming a proper thought.

“Not that,” he stated.

The words rung through the room clear and honest, and it made your lungs fill and deplete in rapid succession.

“I’ve never…” you spoke, words not coming strong enough for you to hear, so you tried again. “I’ve never done this before? I mean, I don’t…”

You felt your voice falter again and a pain hit in your chest. You had no doubt Steve could see it on your face, stepping closer reflexively before making himself stop short of reaching you, landing halfway through the room. Again, you saw emotions rippling through him too fast for you to decipher.

“I’ve never known if anything was- was real I guess,” you tried again. “How could I. And when I… the couple times I’ve told people about what I can do when I thought they genuinely... they’d think I was making this feel that way and… Well, it never went over well.”

“What I feel?” Steve started, leaning in with his head tilted just so to catch your eye. “That’s real, Y/N.”

He paused, again, letting those words sink into the space between you.

“This isn’t you manipulating me or making me feel this way,” he said before there was a tug at the corner of his mouth. “And I don’t have any real experience with this either.”

You nodded, crossing your arms in what you hoped was a casual way, trying to play this off while you were holding on the sketchbook with white knuckles. Because you weren’t convinced. You didn’t think there was a way you could be.

“This isn’t just attraction,” he said softly, in that way of his you liked so much. “This is love, Y/N.”

That stilled you where you stood, the words holding you motionless. You didn’t respond but simply stood there. Slowly Steve walked forward, stopping when he was toe-to-toe with you. Carefully he took the book from your hand, casting it aside on the bed.

You waited as his hands reach out, hovering just above your arms. You waited for him to connect his skin to yours, soft and warm and perfect. You waited for him to press that feather-light touch into you that made you feel and want and need.

But it didn’t come.

Steve went as far as dared, hovering just above your skin, so close and yet not close enough. He pushed as far as he could, and this was his limit.

His eyes were down, caught up in a thought he didn’t share before he snapped back to you with a gentle look on his face.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he said, doing his best to convince you of words that were somehow false. He was a bad liar and you saw through it to the cutting pain underneath. “It’s okay that you don’t… That you don’t feel the same. I’ll be okay. I’m okay.”

Those were the words you tried to use to convince him that you were okay. But it was a lie each and every time. And just like you did now, Steve always saw through those words. He didn’t challenge them though. Not once. He never challenged you, actually. The others he had no qualms about laying down the law when it needed to be done, but you realized never with you.

He used actions with you. Slow and steady and soothing. He held you or protected you or removed you, taking you somewhere where you could be at peace, be tranquil, be alone with him. He never tried to use those words against you or make you believe otherwise. He let you be, and he asked wordlessly that you let him be with you too.

And if he used action to combat those words, so you would too.

You felt your chest tighten and throat constrict, but you let it happen. You felt your mind pull up every bad experience, every horrible touch, every infliction of physical pain and you let it fall away. You stopped holding yourself back from this- from him- and put your hands on his chest.

You felt his eyes watch every movement with biting intensity, waiting and not hoping- doing anything but hoping- as you slowly leaned in. You tilted your head up to him, not seeing those quick flashes of heat and feeling behind that beautiful blue. Your eyes were on his lips, closing as softly as your lips touched his.

It was the briefest of connection, a simple brush of your skin to his. But it made your heart jump and electricity fill your veins. It made his breath come rapid and warm across your mouth. It made him tense his muscles and close his eyes, savouring that feel of your kiss as though it would be the last.

You swallowed, hands at his chest, gripping his shirt between your fingers. You tried not to shake but you did. You tried not to let the yelling in your head say that this wasn’t real have a voice, but it did. All the same, you carefully closed the distance again, gently capturing his lips with yours.

The second kiss was different. It was a breath of fresh, clean air and an exhale of relief. It wasn’t a test or a question or a hesitant challenge. It was a choice. Something that was wanted and yearned for.

You felt that heat Steve radiated increase tenfold as his lips cautiously then longingly moved against yours. You felt him, hands touching your arms then gliding along your back, try to hold back from deepening the kiss. From letting the unspoken, untended love for the past months overtake you both and drown you in the affection you wanted, but weren’t ready for.

All the same, your hands moved up across his chest and wrapped around him, pulling through his hair as he did the same to you. You had a hold on him as much as he had on you, and it was as quiet and compassionate as his embraces have always been. How could you not have known? How could not have seen and felt his love for all this time?

As you released your lips from his, settling into that space between his shoulder and neck, you went through every moment you had shared. For the first time you saw clearly ever gesture and expression of soft adoration.

With him you were safe. With him you were yourself and he could be his. With him you were happy and whole and calm and alive. And now could see and feel that love expressed in every touch, every movement, every glance, every word, every action, every sketch.

The nightmares that lived at the back of your mind didn’t stop. The pain of your power didn’t fade. Your history and past were unaltered and undiminished.

But that didn’t compare to the truth of this moment. The truth being that with him you were wholly and truly loved.

_______

A/N: This got away from me so hard I’m so sorry for the length of this novel.

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[moss-sauce]

owowowowo max comes across tin for the first time. have mercy on my soul

Maxis is still growing accustomed to her new life and its... adventures. Rewiring her brain to perceive former enemies that she’d shoot on sight as now allies she’d fight for was one of the trickier things. Between her and Hush, she still reflexively scoped in on any distant Grineer heads that meandered in front of her Argonak. But she never, ever pulled the trigger. Not anymore.

Rewiring her brain to perceive the Tenno as enemies, her former brothers and sisters under the Lotus, was harder. Formerly fighting alongside them and their Warframes, now targeting them in particular when on a mission. Hush, Trouvaille, and Maxis were the Hounds’ best bet against any interfering Tenno forces. 

Fortunately, so far that hasn’t been an issue. Corpus infiltrations were easy enough to do with Hush’s abilities, so even if a Tenno did show, they were usually finished with their task at hand before any others arrived.

“Maxis. Can you see the vault yet?” Her commander, Zus, grunted through her comm link.

“Not quite,” she whispers back from the spot they’d taken for now: under a set of stairs, squished behind crates and barrels of miscellaneous goods. “We need to proceed further down the hallway to the side, and it should be there.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Former Tenno ways of running rampant into Corpus facilities and ships granted Max the knowledge of the basic layouts of the buildings. Corpus seemed to be rather unimaginative in their architecture, at least in these cases. The same patterns repeated over and over; the same room layouts recycled for efficiency and savings, probably.

“You’re lucky I’m lenient,” Zus mutters. “You’re rather informal with your speaking.”

Max flushes under the cover of her facemask, but her eyes go wide. “Sorry,” she stammers quietly. “Uh, sir.”

“Cut that out. Get what you’re doing done; we can focus on mannerisms some other time.” The link beeps as the line is cut.

Hush peers at Max, still fidgeting nervously after the communication from her commander. Trouvaille swirls an ear to face her, but stays focused on the doorway nearest to them.

“It’s...nothin’,” Max whispers, brushing off Hush’s concern.

Hush doesn’t seem to believe her, but does look away.

Oh, great. This is, what, my third mission? And I’m already pissing the commander off.

She shakes her head to rattle the thoughts out. “Hush, you know the plan?” Her Ivara Warframe nods, rifling through her quiver for the correct arrows.

“Trouvaille.” The kubrow, snaps to attention, going stock-still. “Heel.” He slinks over to Max’s feet, and lies in wait. 

Hush cloaks herself in Prowl silently, then quickly tags an arrow onto Maxis and Trouvaille to render them unseen for a short period.

“Okay. Keep them distracted, yeah?” A nod from Hush. “Let’s roll.”

Max prides herself on how silently she could move when she wants to. It’s part of what convinced the Hounds to take her little trio in, under the guise of working for intelligence infiltrations. Hush is always silent, no matter what she did. Hush could fire off a deafening shotgun and enemies would still be left trying to figure out where the noise had come from. Trouvaille was surprisingly quiet as well, figuring out how to walk on the pads of his paws to stay silent. He also worked up a near-imperceptible series of noises to signal Maxis and Hush: a low growl, a quick huff, a muted grunt, a quiet whuff. 

Crewmen mill around in the hallway they slither through, oblivious that they’d been infiltrated in the first place. Still, Hush kept a noise arrow ready for use.

“There’s the vault,” Max whispers mostly to herself. Hush knew the fact. Trouvaille... doesn't care. Trouvaille just wants Max safe.

They sidle into the entrance to the vault, the outer door swishing shut behind them as the cloak arrows wear off and Hush comes out of Prowl.

“Uh…” Max stares at the console.

The screen is green.

The vault is unlocked. Why is it unlocked? Who’s in there?

Trouvaille’s fur bristles as he gives a warning snarl. Hush is on alert as well, Artemis Bow ready to harm rather than disguise.

“We don’t know who it is yet,” Max worries. “Just...keep your trigger-finger off the trigger for now.”

Hush nods warily, but cloaks her Operator and kubrow again.

“You keep an eye out for company. Trouvaille and I will go to the target console.”

Hush slips into the vault and goes one way, while Max and Trouvaille go the other. The vault is eerily silent and dormant. No guards wandered their patrol routes. No security cameras hummed as they scan the area. Even the laser grids seem to have been disabled.

Max is naive, but certainly not dumb.

A shape moves inside the tiny walled-off area the console is hidden in. Ah. There’s our company.

“Hush, they’re at the console. Distract them.”

Hush breaks open a vent grate, using the clattering of metal bars to jump in the vent unnoticed. The shape by the console freezes.

Still cloaked, Max and Trouvaille round a corner and enter the tiny room. The tension is damn near palpable with how close they all are. Hush purposefully rustles in the vents above them, the stranger--a Warframe? A Saryn Prime, by the looks of it--looking up to follow the noise.

Oh, no. Max’s stomach sinks and her heart chills. Please, no. Not now.

The Saryn Prime draws a Tiberon Prime, slowly raising it to aim at the grates above them with a few steps to the side.

Get in there. Max slinks up to the console, nimble fingers working quickly over the screen to unlock the data within. 

She’s just finishing up the hack when Trouvaille snarls, deep and guttural and threatening.

And then the Prime bodily runs in to the cloaked Operator.

“What the--?” A surprised female voice emanates from the Warframe as it swings its rifle in Max’s general direction. “Who’s there? Show yourself, now. We know you’re here.”

For crying out loud, this is just my luck, Max laments to herself. Of course it’s another Warframe, one that can melt their armor off in seconds. Of course it’s another Operator that’s mastered actual Transference, making the link between Warframe and Operator stronger and more flexible. 

Trouvaille is still bristling and growling as the cloak arrows wear off at the contact.

Max gawks at the Saryn Prime, finger on the trigger of her Argonak to at least provide cover if needed.

“You’re... what, a competitor?” The Saryn’s voice sounds like how a smirk looks.

Maxis says nothing, eyes narrowing suspiciously, finger still on the trigger.

“You are a Tenno, right?” 

Max doesn’t respond. 

“Where’s your Warframe, then?”

Max stays silent, glaring.

“You’re not very friendly, you know.” The Saryn declares as she holsters the Tiberon.

Max falters, eyebrows raising for a split second.

“Oh, that got you? Hurt your feelings?”

The Saryn Prime stands still, arms at her side, for a moment. Her Operator swiftly Transfers out of the Warframe, and stands proudly, arrogantly before the intruders, a full seven inches taller than Maxis. The Saryn crosses her arms as she stands behind the other Tenno, reinforcing the intimidating image.

“You gonna hand that data over?” She asks cockily.

Max glares again as Trouville growls.

“A little kubrow to watch your back instead of a Warframe, then?” The other Operator peers closer at the canine. “A Grineer patch…? You’re allied with the Grineer?” She asks incredulously. 

Max anxiously shifts her weight on her feet.

“You’ve got the patch too. You’re allied with them?”

Silence.

“Interesting... How about we strike a deal.” She says with faux-earnesty. “Give me that data from the console, and I’ll let you scamper back to your pack of dogs you’ve somehow managed to worm into.”

Maxis’ hand tightens around the small datamass with all the information on it. 

“I’ll admit, I admire your gall.” She steps closer, Trouvaille’s growl growing in volume. “Give it over. I’m trying to help you out, here. A scathing scolding from your superior would be preferable to death, no?”

Hush snaps out of the vent above them, slamming into the ground between the two Tenno. The Saryn Prime flinches, but readies herself, pulling her Operator back towards her to safety. Hush mimics the motion.

“An Ivara for a spy mission? Cliche, but smart, I suppose.”

A commotion raises from outside the vault. Voices and footsteps nearing quickly.

“Last chance, sweetheart. Hand it over.”

Hush seems damn near about to burst into flame at the anger radiating off of her form. Before she can act, the entrance door to the vault whooshes open, an unruly herd of Crewmen barging in and shouting.

“Lovely,” the Operator mutters as she Transfers back into her Saryn Prime. She looks curiously at Maxis when she doesn’t do the same with Hush. “You go on your own? That’s courageous, I’ll admit.”

Max ignores what the non-sensible part of her mind is spewing. Her looks. Say she looks nice. Ask if she wants to meet up in a different environment. Be her friend. Make a friend. Be nice. Just--

A firm huff of air clears her head. “Hush, get back to the vents and sleep arrow some of those Crewmen.” Hush obeys immediately, leaping back up to the displaced grate to round the vents and throw out a sleep arrow. The arrow hits the ground with a tunk, and the Crewmen in the immediate area slump over.

Involuntarily, Max throws a hand over her shoulder, ushering the Saryn Prime out.

“No need to tell me what to do,” the Operator’s voice rings out of the Warframe. “I can handle myself just fine.” She charges out of the vault, swinging a strange sword in strong backhanded strikes. The Warframe quickly infects a few unfortunate targets with spores that rapidly festered and strengthened as they spread.

But they did not affect Max, or Hush, or Trouvaille.

Be touched about the act of kindness later.

Hush flies down from the vent, clearing a path for the other spies to scamper through. 

To her surprise, the other Warframe and Operator didn’t simply blast ahead of them, knock over soldiers as they make their escape. Of course not; she still wants that data. 

“You guys coming or what?”

Hush grabs Max by the arm and drags her forward, Trouvaille scurrying along beside them. As they ran, more spores were spread, more Crewmen literally corroded away before Max’s eyes.

She shudders to herself. She was used to seeing and causing death, but it didn’t mean she was okay with it. And certainly not when it was this... gruesome.

“So, now that we’re here,” the Saryn Prime skids to a stop in an open room where Crewmen haven’t gathered yet. “Data? Now? Please? Pretty please?”

“Uh--” Maxis answers for the first time, before Hush picks her up bodily and runs.

“No worries, cutie, I’m sure we’ll meet again! You better hope I’m still in a good mood when we do!”

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about how she called you ‘cutie’ and ‘sweetheart’ and complimented you on being ‘courageous’.

“I see it’s gone loud in there.” Zus unamused voice remarks over the comm link. “Did it not go so well?”

“There, ah, there was,” Max stutters out as she’s jostled, “there was another Tenno in there. In the vault.”

“Did you get the data?”

“Yeah, that’s intact.”

“Perfect. Get back out here and we’ll pick you all up and head back.”

Oh, you’re in for it, one way or another, Maxis.

[mizmahlia]

Angst Prompt: You Broke Me

Taken from this list here. 

This was inspired by yet another play-through of Batman Arkham Knight. During the scene where Batman’s being hauled off to Arkham to confront Scarecrow, Alfred tells Bruce he’s being tracked through the city. Bruce insinuates that Jason is the one tracking him, and my brain went “WHAT IF JASON TRIED TO STOP THAT TRUCK TO TRY AND FOIL SCARECROW’S PLAN BECAUSE HE HAD A CHANGE OF HEART?”

And, well, now we have 4.4k words of angsty Jason Todd fic.

Spoilers for Batman Arkham Knight

I borrowed a few lines of dialog from the game, as I wanted to fix the ending. Because of reasons.

Warnings: Mentions of torture, some swearing, Jason does shoot some people, and there are some mental health issues depicted.

Jason ripped his helmet open and leaned against the fire escape, trying to catch his breath. The sensor on the building where Scarecrow demanded Batman turn himself over was tripped five minutes ago and he'd sprinted over the rooftops from halfway across Bristol. He knew he didn't have much time until the truck left, taking Batman to Arkham for his unmasking, but he knew he had to try to stop it.

He hoped Bruce noticed the red Bat symbol hastily painted on the building when he'd gone in. He climbed down the fire escape and crept across the street to a deserted SUV that somehow hadn't been vandalized yet, breaking the driver's side window. He got in, hot-wired the engine and brought up his gauntlet screen to check the GPS tracker. At the same time, he tapped into the audio feed from the back of the truck. He was already listening to the audio feed from Bruce's cowl and had been most of the night.

The red dot on the screen began to move and Jason put the SUV in gear and pulled out into the street after it. He heard Alfred tell Bruce the truck's movements were being tracked. Well, that was quick. What no one knew was that Jason installed the tracking device and microphone to make sure Scarecrow didn't double-cross him. He'd wanted his chance to end Bruce, after Scarecrow had his fun. But after their confrontation at the mall, Jason's mission objectives changed drastically and it went from being an assassination mission to a rescue op. Oh, the irony. So between the hacked comm feed and the microphones in the truck, he could hear both sides of the conversation. He rolled his eyes when Bruce replied. "I knew he would." He stomped his foot to the floor and took off after the truck, chasing it out of Kingston and over Mercy Bridge. He knew the fear toxin levels in the back of the truck were rising rapidly. He listened as Scarecrow taunted Batman, telling him the nightmare was almost over and his failure was almost complete. Jason's gut rolled at the thought he'd helped orchestrate this. He knew he had a lot of shit to work out now, but he couldn't allow Scarecrow to finish their plan. Not after what happened earlier. Not after he'd seen the look on Bruce's face. You can't fake that kind of shock, not even if you're Batman. He raced over the bridge and through the side streets of Bleake Island, the truck only a few blocks ahead of him. He just needed to stop the truck before it crossed onto the bridge to Arkham Island; if it reached the bridge, there was no cover and no way to get Batman hidden long enough for the fear toxin to work its way out of his system. As he rounded a corner, he spotted the truck at the next block. He needed to nudge the bumper with the SUV to force it off the road. He grit his teeth and gunned it through the intersection, ignoring the blaring horn from a car that had the right of way. The car clipped the rear passenger side of the SUV, sending him careening off course. "Fuck!" The SUV fishtailed as he tried to keep it from sideswiping a burned-out garbage truck. He cranked the wheel and caught up to the truck. "Brace yourself, Bruce," he muttered. Jason mashed his palm against the horn before colliding with the rear bumper, watching as the truck swerved and hit the curb, rolling into a vacant lot before coming to rest on its roof. He parked the SUV behind an empty school bus and climbed out, staying low and in the shadows as he crept toward the truck. In his ear piece, he heard Bruce groan, apparently still in the back of the truck in range of the microphone. "Mother, don't go. Please.." Jason froze and flattened himself against the side of a building, guilt and panic and fear churning in his stomach. He sank to his knees and clawed at his helmet, gulping in the cold night air when it opened. Bruce was reliving the night his parents died. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, trying to pull himself together. It had only been a few hours since their confrontation, since he'd learned Bruce actually believed the Joker had murdered him almost three years ago. Hours since he realized every single reason he had for planning this entire op was bullshit; that the Joker and Harley had beaten him and scrambled his brain until he honestly believed Batman would give up on Robin. That Bruce would give up on him. He scrubbed his hands over his face and choked back a sob when he realized how thoroughly fucked up this all was. He was furious with Batman for seemingly abandoning him, for letting this happen and replacing him. He'd been through absolute hell- the beatings from the Joker, the meds Harley forced down his throat, the days and weeks of isolation. While most of it blurred together, he remembered the day he broke with absolute clarity. The exact moment he knew he was never going to go home, when he wished they would just kill him. It was the day the Joker showed him the photo of Batman and Robin. A Robin that wasn't him. He felt sick all over again at the memory and leaned forward, his hands on his knees. When he was sure he wasn't going to vomit he sat back against the building. He was shaking. The Joker did terrible and sadistic things to him just to spite Batman, because he wanted Batman's attention. And after everything Joker did, no matter how horrific, Batman never did what was necessary to stop him. It was a vicious circle of murder, terror and nightmare-inducing behaviour that Jason got caught in the middle of and had paid the price for. But then Bruce had seen his face and he'd been genuinely surprised. That's when the small glimmer of hope, hope that Bruce hadn't really forgotten about him after all, took hold and royally screwed everything up. Anger replaced the fear and the panic and Jason laughed, and it sounded so, so wrong. Suffice to say his mental and physical well-being were treading on some pretty thin fucking ice at the moment. A groan from the overturned truck drew his attention and he turned, leaning around the corner. The driver pulled himself from the cab and crawled toward the back of the truck. One of his legs was clearly broken. Jason took several deep breaths to ground himself and he stood up, drawing his sidearm and securing the helmet in place once again. He stalked around the corner and stopped in front of the driver, cocking his head to the side. The driver looked up at him, relieved at the sight of the Arkham Knight standing in front of him. "Sir. We got run off the road, I didn't see who it was." He pulled himself into a sitting position and looked up at Jason, the grimace when he jostled his leg replaced by a confused frown. "We heard you split after your fight with the Bat- you okay?" Jason flicked the safety off his gun. No, I'm definitely not fucking okay. "I'm fine. Change of plans. I'm personally escorting Batman to the Asylum." The driver nodded and leaned against the side of the truck. "You sound so different without the voice modulator. So young." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting the last one and tossing the empty pack back toward the cab. "The guy in the cab is out cold and my leg's broke. Wish I could help you get the bastard to Arkham." The memory of Batman standing over him earlier, offering to help him, saying they could fix this, flashed through his mind and Jason flinched. "Your help won't be necessary." He fired a round into the driver's chest and he went still, the cigarette dropping to the asphalt next to him. Jason knelt behind the truck and pried the door open, revealing a semi-conscious Batman. He holstered the gun and reached in, dragging Batman out and clear of the truck. Jason knelt next to him and studied him. The suit was in tatters; in addition to the bullet he'd fired into Batman's abdomen hours ago that appeared to still be lodged there, there was now a new hole in the right side of the Bat symbol on his chest. The armor plating was scratched and filthy. The cowl was scuffed and dented, and Bruce’s nose was definitely broken underneath it. He had some nasty bruising forming along his jaw. The cape had holes in it and his gloves were coated in grime and blood. All to try and save a city that tried to kill him on a nightly basis. "You look like hell, B," Jason said quietly. "You just don't know when to quit." At the sound of his voice, Bruce's eyes opened and he looked up at Jason. His pupils were dilated, the blue of his irises almost non-existent; he was still deeply under the influence of the fear toxin. Before he realized what he was doing, Jason released the catch on his helmet and opened it again, allowing Bruce to see his face. His eyes widened and he reached a hand toward Jason. "It can't be..." "Yeah, it can be." Jason sighed and his chin dropped to his chest. "We've gotta get out of here; Scarecrow's going to realize the truck isn't on schedule. C'mon." He tugged on Bruce's arm to get him to stand, but he remained on his hands and knees. "You can't be him. I watched Joker shoot him." Bruce's voice went eerily quiet. "I watched Jason die." "I wish I had," Jason muttered. "But we don't have time for this." Bruce backed away from Jason and shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. "No. I failed him. I need to find him. He was right here the whole time and I..." His eyes darted frantically around the empty lot, no doubt searching for the car. "I need to tell him that I didn't know." His eyes met Jason's and the despair in them made Jason shiver. "I searched that asylum for weeks. How could I not have known he was there?" Jason bit his lip and closed the front of the helmet again before he lost control of his emotions. He's afraid he failed me? He heard the rumble of a large truck down the street. "We need to leave. Now." He pulled Bruce to his feet and led him toward the back of the lot, away from the street. There was a mechanic's garage the next block over that probably had a vehicle they could use to get Bruce back to the cave. As they walked, he looked back over his shoulder at Bruce. He was completely lost in his own head and unaware he was being led through Gotham by the man who'd helped orchestrate everything he'd been through. But considering he was allowing himself to be led around meant he didn't believe himself to be in any danger. Something no one (apart from Superman) could do was force Bruce to follow someone he didn't trust. Jason wanted to cry at the irony. He picked the lock on the door of the garage and pushed Bruce through before closing and locking it behind them. He steered Bruce toward a chair and he sat the moment the backs of his knees hit the seat. "Hang tight while I find us a ride." Jason started rifling through the rack of keys hanging above the counter, momentarily forgetting about Bruce until he started talking again. He froze and dropped the set of keys he was holding. "I'm still in control, Joker. You won't get the upper hand." Jason turned and leaned against the counter, his hands gripping the edge tightly. "What did you just say?" Bruce looked up at him and Jason swore his eyes were a neon shade of green. He backed away from Bruce, knocking over a canister of rusted bolts. The sound echoed loudly throughout the shop and Jason flinched at the noise. Bruce was looking right through him and spoke to whoever it was he saw. "You won't break me, Joker. You can't." Bruce looked down at the floor for a moment before glancing up at Jason. His gaze was still vacant, his mind was long gone at the moment, but at least his eyes were back to blue. "I'm already broken." Jason picked the keys up off the floor and glanced out the window, using the key fob to find the Chevy they would use to get Bruce back to Alfred. It was parked just across the lot from the door and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Come on, Batman. We need to get you back to your butler." He turned back to find Bruce watching him. And he was lucid. "He'd love to see you, you know." Jason crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. Despite Bruce not being able to see his face, his focused his gaze on the floor anyway, too embarrassed and ashamed to look him in the eye. "I highly doubt that, after everything that's happened tonight." Bruce stood, carefully making his way toward Jason. He stopped several feet away. "We all thought you were..." he trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. "I meant what I said, earlier." It's not too late. We can fix this... Together. Jason felt the anger rising again. "Not that simple. You have no idea what he did to me." The look on Bruce's face said otherwise. Jason narrowed his eyes, forgetting Bruce couldn't see it. "Based on what I saw in the video he sent me, I have an idea." Jason shook his head and turned toward a sedan with its tires missing. He punched the trunk, leaving a considerable dent. To hell with being quiet any longer. "That was five minutes, Bruce. He had me down there for OVER A YEAR!" Bruce, to his credit, said nothing. "You have no idea what they did to me," Jason continued, trying to keep from getting hysterical. "I held out for six months before I gave anything up. Six months! And do you know why I finally gave up, after everything they put me through?" He retrieved a photograph from his back pocket and flipped it at Bruce. He reached for it and turned it over, his face growing even paler. "Yeah. I found out I was replaced. So it turns out you deserve all the credit for this one, Batman," Jason said, his tone pure venom. "You broke me. Not the Joker, not Harley. Not the guards who took turns beating me. It was you." "I'm sorry about all of this, Jason. But you need to know there's more to it than that. Consider the source. Please." Bruce put the photograph on the chair behind him. "You know what the Joker was capable of." "I certainly do now." Bruce sighed deeply and his hand went to the wound on his abdomen when the muscles tensed painfully. He looked much older and wearier after the events of the night. He sat down again and reached for the medical pouch on his belt, before remembering he'd removed it. Jason reached into his own belt and fished out a small bottle of pills, tossing it to him. "Here. It's hydrocodone. Should take the edge off." Bruce nodded and took three of them. Before he could speak, half a dozen members of the militia stormed through the door. "Sir? You found him! We're here to bring Batman to the asylum. Scarecrow is waiting." Bruce looked at Jason and gave a subtle nod, a look of determination back on his face. I'll do it for you, if that's what it takes. Jason turned toward his men. "Get him there in one piece, or you'll all wind up like the driver. Are we clear?" "Sir, yes sir." "And don't tell Scarecrow I had to round him up. He's got enough to worry about." Bruce stepped in behind several of the militia and headed toward the door. He glanced behind him before he stepped outside in time to see Jason nod once. You won't have to. I'll get there.

Based on the radio chatter he was listening to, Scarecrow had indeed changed the plan. The militia were now under strict orders not to let the Arkham Knight anywhere near the Asylum. Their orders were to shoot him on sight and shoot to kill. It didn't bother Jason in the slightest. Considering the one man who'd been kicking their asses all over Gotham that night was the one who originally trained him in the art of covert ops? 

He'd take those odds any day of the week. But one thing he wasn't ready for was how he'd feel being back on that godforsaken island and staring at the Intensive Treatment building. It wasn't even where he was headed; Scarecrow was set up in the mansion to the east, but in making his way past armed guards and sentry guns, he had to go the long way around Intensive Treatment to get there.

He barely made it to cover behind an overgrown hedge of ivy before he was throwing up, once again feeling the sting of the cold water they poured over his face and the phantom pains of a crowbar, and hearing the sizzle of a branding iron as it was held to his cheek. Strangely enough, it was Robin's voice in his ear piece when he spoke to Batman that brought him back to the present. He forced himself to focus as Scarecrow and Batman started talking. He shook his head and climbed to his feet when Scarecrow bragged about robbing Gotham of hope. He'd been robbed of that, too, once. There was no way he could let Gotham be robbed of whatever hope it had left after tonight. He was only a few hundred yards from the mansion and there were five men between him and the front door. Jason changed the display in his helmet to night-vision and quietly assembled his sniper rifle, taking position on his belly. On his next exhale, the man closest to him went down, followed by his partner ten yards to the right. And when the other three came to investigate he hit them with a smoke grenade before coming up behind them, choking them out. As he was dragging them into the bushes, he heard Commissioner Gordon and Scarecrow arguing, followed by a gunshot he heard both through the ear piece and through a broken window of the main entrance hall of the mansion. Jason froze. Gordon and Bruce were talking now and neither of them sounded like they were in pain, which means Scarecrow likely just shot Robin. Something in Jason broke loose, something he hadn't felt in a long time. An urge to protect someone. He knew full well Tim Drake could hold his own in a fight and he'd tested that himself on several occasions. But the fact a Robin was just shot so someone could prove a point? He didn't care who it was- the son of a bitch would pay for that. Jason sprinted toward the mansion, taking the steps two a time and running a thermal scan of the entrance hall. There were only four people on the screen: Gordon, Bruce, Tim and Scarecrow. He was about the kick the door in when he heard Scarecrow's voice, full of surprise and amusement. "Wayne? Bruce Wayne?" He was too late; he hadn't made it in time to stop Scarecrow from broadcasting Batman's identity to the world. Had he not panicked when he'd seen the Intensive Treatment building, maybe... With an anguished groan, he slid down the door and buried his head in his hands. But he heard Bruce's voice in his head, from when he was much younger and worrying too much about things outside of his control. What-if's don't help people, Jay-lad. Focus on what you can control. He opened his eyes and stared at the Intensive Treatment building, resolve replacing the panic. He could still stop this- he could still stop Scarecrow from killing Bruce, Tim or Commissioner Gordon. Jason stood and brought up an old floor plan of the building in his HUD as Scarecrow continued talking. "Now the world can see you for what you truly are. A legend laid bare. Powerless. Human. Afraid." He heard Bruce moan in pain after the telltale hiss of Scarecrow's injection delivery system pumped him full of the liquid fear toxin. He had to get in there as soon as possible if he was going to get them out alive. But he couldn't barge in the front door and risk Scarecrow shooting any of them just because he could. There was an old service entrance to the kitchen around back that he could use to gain entrance. He made his way around back through a maze of tangled shrubs, broken shutters and fallen bricks, listening to Scarecrow drone on to his live audience about fear and how necessary it is, and how useless Batman was now that he'd been unmasked. No wonder he'd been so insistent on killing Batman before their plan really got off the ground- the man talked constantly. Jason broke the lock on the door and carefully made his way in, listening as Scarecrow continued taunting Bruce, this time about his friends being hunted down and killed for his actions as Batman. It wasn't Bruce's reply that made his blood run cold, but the laughter that followed it. That cackle, the way it made his skin crawl and the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It sounded just like the Joker. Jason rushed to the sink and retched, the sound of that laughter too much to bear. His heart pounding in his ears muffled the sound of Bruce being injected with another dose of toxin. He struggled to breathe normally, growing lightheaded as he began to hyperventilate. He could hear Scarecrow getting angry that Bruce wasn't playing along anymore and Jason knew he didn't have much time left to intervene. He turned and studied the floor plan, following the maze-like hallways until they opened up into the rear of the main entrance hall. He stuck to the shadows and made his way toward the light thrown off by the bank of television monitors mounted against the eastern wall. Bruce was strapped to a gurney that was tilted upright, Gordon knelt on the floor next to an unconscious Robin, and Scarecrow was grandstanding in front of a lone camera. Jason watched in horror as Scarecrow turned from the camera and injected Bruce a third time. He chambered a round in his rifle and lined up his shot, but hesitated when he heard Bruce speak. "I'm not afraid, Crane." Scarecrow stepped back as if he'd been slapped, drawing a gun from his waistband and holding the barrel against Bruce's forehead. Now or never, Jason. Show him you're still here. Jason shouldered the rifle and looked down the scope, the laser sight landing on the gun in Scarecrow's left hand. One shot sent the gun flying. The second shot broke the restraint holding Bruce's arm. Bruce grabbed Scarecrow's wrist as he was going to inject him again, wrenching it around and forcing the maximum dose into Scarecrow's chest. "What's wrong? Scared?" Bruce towered over Scarecrow as the toxin took effect and as he let him go, Jason could see the panic on Scarecrow's face even from his vantage point. Scarecrow stumbled backwards, right into Gordon's fist, and wound up unconscious on the floor. Bruce looked up from where the shots were fired, immediately finding Jason's position. Jason froze, not knowing what to do or say. All he could manage was a nod. I'm late, but I'm here. For everything he'd been through tonight, Bruce managed a small smile and a nod in return. I knew you would be. With that, Bruce crouched next to Gordon and Tim. As Jason turned to leave, he heard Gordon tell Bruce that Tim would be okay. He made his way back out the way he entered and stood at the fence, looking out into the bay and back at the lights of the city. The skies were clearing and he could see the first signs of dawn off in the distance. "Are you going to be alright?" He startled when Bruce's voice came through his ear piece. That meant he was wearing the cowl again. Jason chewed his lip for a moment. "I really don't know." There was a pause and Jason could hear the jet approaching the other side of the island. He turned and watched Batman grapple up into the cockpit. "When all of this settles, whenever that may be, I'd like to talk. If that's okay with you." Jason's eyes watered and he swallowed hard before he answered. The jet hovered over the north end of the island and Jason would be money Bruce was scanning to see where he was. "I.. I'll be around. You'll know where to reach me." The jet banked and headed off toward the Manor, not back into the city. "I left something for you in our usual spot." Jason turned and began the trek back across the island, giving the Intensive Treatment building a wide berth. "The keys to the Bentley?" He could feel Bruce's eye roll through the comm link. "Information. Resources. Something to help you settle into life again." Jason stopped next to his motorcycle and shook his head. "When the hell did you have time to do that?" Bruce answered without missing a beat. "I have a butler, remember?" The link clicked off and Jason got on his bike, heading back into the city. He had some things to take care of before he went back to his safe house, mainly rounding up straggling members of the militia for the GCPD. Then he'd make a stop by the Gotham Knights baseball stadium, where they used to watch ballgames every Saturday, and see what Bruce left for him. He had no idea what his future looked like or what it had in store for him, but the very fact he was planning for one meant he was headed in the right direction. For the second time that night, he allowed himself to hope. And that felt pretty good.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Impossible: Part 6

Summary: Prompt: ‘I’m a superhero and you’re my arch nemesis but we don’t know each other’s identities and we’re actually best friends’ You’re best friends with Bucky, although you know him as James Ranier. He’s your best friend, too, but he has no idea you’re actually Shade, a woman who plagues the reformed Winter Soldier’s life as his arch nemesis. The team is ready to save your brother, but your relationship with Bucky seems to get worse by the hour. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Mutant!Reader Warnings: Violence, Swearing (always), blood, angst Word Count: ~4,020 A/N: *technical jargon and pseudoscience intensifies* I don’t think this chapter is my best one so far, but I think it’s important because it really shows a shift in both the reader’s and Bucky’s views. I hope the length is made bearable by the action and team banter. This is for @bookybuns‘ ficfest! This Chapter was inspired by I Will Survive by Cake.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

He was bent over your bed in a flash, eyes alight with anger, fingers digging into the guard rails of the hospital bed. “Don’t you dare compare me to you! It’s exactly my past that makes me think you are beyond redemption!” he bellowed. The bed’s railings squealed as his metal hand crushed it. He released it suddenly, the metal warping dangerously before his fingers let go.

Your eyes didn’t leave Bucky’s, unwilling to back down. His gaze roamed your face as his chest heaved, adrenaline running through his veins. Without warning he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving you to dwell on his words.

Although the entire confrontation replayed itself in your head over and over again, one thought kept popping up.

Does he think himself beyond redemption? you wondered quietly, your only company the beeping of machines.

An hour later, Steve Rogers appeared in your room, carrying a tablet and a small communications device.

“We’re going to let you watch from here, on this. You know Shadow better than we do. If something’s wrong or if things go south, your information might be invaluable. Unless we’re in imminent danger, I hafta ask that you stay quiet. Your presence seems to... unhinge Bucky at the moment,” Steve said, voice yet again kinder than you expected. He moved the bed’s built in table so that it was over you and placed the tablet on top, propping it up by its built-in stand. It flickered to life immediately and showed different security feeds in and around the hospital. He placed the comm carefully into your ear and checked the tablet one last time before he spoke again. “The comm will turn on when we approach the hospital.”

You stared at him, studying him closely, before you responded. “Understood. I won’t do anything to put Gabe in danger,” you assured him. He nodded and moved to leave, but you made him pause. “And when you get back you’re going to tell me why you’re being so nice to me,” you said, tone strict.

He didn’t turn around. He simply nodded and kept walking out the door.

An hour later the comm came to life. From what you could understand, Natasha, Steve, Bucky, and Sam would be going in undercover with Tony on standby. Banner was present as a last resort and also as a doctor for Gabe if things went wrong. Tony would knock out the chip in Gabe’s brain with a precision short-range EMP, making it safe to transport Gabe without worrying about his brain exploding. It was a solid plan. The Iron Man would draw too much attention, but you knew the other four, especially Bucky and Natasha, could easily hide in plain sight. Apparently, the only thing Captain America needed to hide was a baseball cap and a worn-out jacket.

According to the clock on the wall, you had an hour before you absolutely had to check in with a Shadow agent. That meant you had an hour before Gabe’s grey matter was splattered on the walls.

“You better take care of Redwing,” you heard Sam say threateningly.

“Hey, look who you’re talking to,” came Tony’s voice over the comm.

“Yeah, you’re the picture of nurturing care and careful decision making,” Sam said smugly.

You sighed as you watched the video feeds, looking for any dangers they might miss. So far, it was quiet.

“Ow, my feelings,” Tony said sarcastically.

“Just hurry up, dude,” Sam said scathingly.

“Let’s stay focused,” Steve said sternly.

A chorus of “Yes, Captain”s came through the mic, followed by a very sardonic “Yessir, Capsicle, sir,” from Tony.

“There, finished. Do your thing, Tweety,” Tony said to Sam who had the good grace not to give him a scathing reply.

You watched as the door to one of the vans on the street opened and a tiny drone flew out. It flew up to the window of Gabe’s room and held steady. Movement on the other feeds caught your attention. It seemed Natasha, Steve, and Bucky were already on the move. Bucky walked in alone. It wouldn’t be suspicious for him to visit. He was even on Gabe’s approved visitor list. Steve and Natasha walked hand-in-hand, looking like the perfect couple. You nearly missed Sam deploying the EMP via Redwing because you were too focused on Bucky. What you didn’t miss, however, were the agents that seemed to immediately pop out of the woodwork and head straight towards the hospital.

Worse yet was that the team didn’t seem to notice them.

“You’ve got incoming. Shadow agents. At least eight, as far as I can tell. Please tell me that that EMP worked,” you said into the comm, suddenly wishing you were there, hole-y shoulder and all.

“Got it,” came Steve’s voice over the comm. He and Natasha picked up the pace as they got into the hospital. From what you could tell, Bucky was already on the third floor, but on the other side of the hospital from Gabe.

“Redwing’s not picking up any non-biological electrical impulses. I think it’s safe to say it’s been deactivated,” Tony said absently. There was a beat of silence, then, “Wait, was that that sassy little girl who tried to choke me with my own tie an hour ago?” Tony said, sounding alarmed and maybe slightly offended.

“They told you about that, Tony,” Bruce said quietly.

“I didn’t try to choke you. Just scare you a bit,” you said defensively. “And you have incoming on the third floor. Three agents are making a beeline for Gabe’s room,” you said, voice clinical.

“How do you know?” Steve asked quietly, looking around as surreptitiously as possible for the agents you’d mentioned. “I don’t see anything.”

“It’s the way they carry themselves. Years of Shadow training makes you carry yourself a certain way. There. That woman. The one with the flowers and dark blue jacket. About ten feet ahead of you,” you informed them. You watched as Natasha tasered her without breaking stride. Steve stopped for a moment to make a show of calling for doctors before he got up and continued with Natasha.

“Falcon, you have two headed towards the hospital entrance. Take them out before they make it in. The tall man in the orange sunglasses and the other man in that nice tailored black suit.

“You’re sure?” Sam asked as you watched him walk towards the people you’d mentioned.

“Oh, I’m sure. The one in the orange sunglasses got shot in my car a few days ago,” you said, glaring at the screen. “And the one in the suit always takes my coffee when I check in with him. He’s a right bastard,” you said venomously.

“Got it,” Sam said. They didn’t see him coming and were on the ground, incapacitated, in mere moments.

You spotted the agents before Bucky did. He was closing in on Gabe’s room, and they had, apparently, recognized him. Maybe sending him in hadn’t been such a good idea, after all. They pulled guns out of their jackets and took aim at him and your blood ran cold.

“James, duck! Now!” you yelled. He dropped immediately and rolled into a room just in time to dodge a spray of bullets which thankfully missed the few nurses and visitors that milled about the hallway. They ran screaming as soon as the agents had opened fire. Good. You didn’t want any of them getting hurt.

“They’re closing in on the room you went into. One’s against the wall. The other is about to-” your voice cut off and you jumped in surprise as Bucky thrust his metal fist through the wall and knocked the agent out with a single blow to the head. The other agent was still in shock when Bucky reached his other arm around the doorway and shot him without looking.

For the first time in your life you were thankful for the Winter Soldier’s skills.

“Third floor is clear for now. Five more agents are making their way up from the second floor. Hurry,” you said, watching as Sam took out yet another agent who’d been stupid enough to pull a gun on him.

“Were you under the impression we thought this was a lovely stroll in Central Park? We are hurrying,” Natasha said dryly.

You ignored her, choosing to instead keep an eye on the agents. “You’re closing in on Gabe’s room. Room 338. Left side,” you said, watching as Bucky turned a corner right as Steve and Natasha passed it. They nodded to each other in acknowledgement and made it the last hundred feet to Gabe’s room.

“I don’t have access to private room cameras, but I’ve been watching the door. There shouldn’t be anyone in there,” you informed them. Natasha stood with her back to the wall and Steve and Bucky took up point positions just in case there were enemies behind the door. Natasha wrenched the door open at Steve’s signal and you let out a sigh of relief when Steve said it was clear.

“Grab Gabe and the EMP and get out of there. They’re guaranteed to have reinforcements coming,” you said, eyes flicking between each of the camera feeds. You’d expected them to go out the way they came in, so it surprised you when the glass of Gabe’s room’s windows shattered and all three of them jumped out, Gabe slung over Bucky’s shoulder.

That was three stories down. Steve and Bucky might survive, but Natasha and Gabe-

You watched as Natasha deployed a grappling device which buried itself deep in the side of the building. She hooked it onto Steve’s belt and hung onto him for dear life. Bucky grabbed onto the rope itself with his metal hand, slowing his descent effectively. They all hit the ground gracefully, Natasha quickly disentangling herself from Steve’s arms.

Movement down the street caught your eye. “Get out of there now. They have backup coming. Lots of it,” you warned, watching a veritable horde of SUVs make its way towards the hospital.

“Not anymore, they don’t,” Tony said cheerfully. You were about to ask what he meant, but you didn’t have to. A second later almost all of the SUVs went up in flames. The explosions even caused the cameras to shake. “I would still hurry though. I don’t they’re going to be happy that we just blew up their agents,” Tony said affably.

“Really? I thought it’d be fun to just hang out until they turn us into Swiss cheese,” Sam said sarcastically as he made his way to one of the getaway cars they’d placed earlier. Natasha and Steve made it into the car with Sam while Bucky headed to the van with Bruce and Tony. The second the doors shut both cars were off and headed away from the hospital as quickly as they could go in busy New York traffic.

Once they were safely out of your cameras’ feeds you let some of the tension leave your body and slumped back onto the bed. “Good work,” you said faintly.

“Don’t forget your end of the bargain,” came Bucky’s voice over the comms. It was the first time he’d spoken since you’d joined their channel and you realized how much you’d missed his voice just then.

You frowned. “Understood, Soldier,” you said blandly. You didn’t wait for a response, and flicked your head to the side. The comm flew out of your ear and fell to the floor, safely out of your reach.

A half hour later Gabe was wheeled into your room, still unconscious, with Steve, Bruce, Bucky, and Tony following closely behind the doctors.

You narrowed your eyes at them all, gaze flicking between Gabe, the doctors, and the guys. “Why isn’t he awake?” you asked, suspicious.

“He’s going into surgery to remove the chip in his head. Didn’t seem to make sense to wake him up before that. It would probably just stress him out,” Bruce said solemnly.

You nodded in understanding. “Let me out of these restraints. We’re on the same side, here,” you said, absolutely tired of being unable to scratch your nose... or anything else, for that matter.

“How about we don’t do that, instead,” Tony said obstinately. “I don’t think my tie collection would survive letting you loose,” he joked, but his gaze was hard. Man, he really didn’t like you.

“I saved your lives back there,” you said, turning your gaze on Steve, who seemed the most likely to take your side from the interactions you had with him thus far.

Steve looked torn and threw a look to Bucky. They had a silent conversation, which apparently Steve won, because he nodded to you a moment later.

“Fine, but you’re still wearing handcuffs,” Bucky said, fishing the keys out of his pockets, and tossed them to Steve.

“Really? We’re letting the slimy murderer out of the restraints?” Tony asked, looking at the others as though they were crazy.

“Oh, we’re going there now, are we?” you asked, glaring at Tony.

“I’d just like to point out she tried to kill all of you less than twelve hours ago,” Tony protested.

Steve ignored him, unlocked your restraints, and undid the velcro straps.

“And I suppose we’re just ignoring the fact I could have killed them a few days ago, but didn’t?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at Tony.

“Not killing someone doesn’t make you a saint,” Tony said scathingly, as though he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “It makes you a normal person!” he argued.

Steve undid the last restraint and you sat up, rubbing your wrists. You pulled out your IV and stretched. You winced at the pain in your left shoulder and resolved not to move your left arm unless you had to.

“Please, Tony. Not a single person in this room is normal. And I never claimed to be a saint,” you said, standing slowly. Your legs were a little wobbly at first, but you quickly regained your footing and headed over to Gabe’s bed. A quick assessment revealed he was none worse for the wear.

Suddenly, it hit you. You were free. You had Gabe back. He was going to get that infernal chip out of his head and you’d be free. You wouldn’t have to hurt people ever again. You could go back to... being you.

You hadn’t realized you’d started crying until someone laid a hand gently on your shoulder. You jumped, startled, and were surprised to see Bruce Banner staring back at you, soft smile on his lips.

“It’s time for his procedure. You’re welcome to watch in the observation room, if you’d like,” he said softly. This kind man was the Hulk? The world really was a strange place.

You wanted to. Oh, how you wanted to. But you’d made a promise and you trusted Doctor Banner. You shook your head slowly as you wiped the tears from your eyes and stood a little taller. “No, I made a deal. We need to move now while Shadow is reeling,” you said, hating the words as they left your lips.

“Alright. We’ll take good care of him. I promise, Ms. (Y/L/N),” Bruce said, and you believed him. You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Let’s go, Shade.”

You turned to stare at Bucky and your heart constricted painfully. Steve appeared next to you, handcuffs in hand. You held out your arms, left shoulder protesting angrily at the movement. He looked apologetic as he put them on your wrists, tight enough that you wouldn’t be able to escape them (which would have been impossible for your right hand anyway, as it was now in a splint to keep you from moving your thumb).

You put on a bracing smile, though you knew it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Let’s go dismantle an evil organization, shall we?” you said, tone as light as you could make it.

You slumped in your chair and stared blankly at the screen. You’d spent the last several hours hacking into Shadow servers. They’d worked fast to try and boot you from the system, but you’d been faster, opening up new access points as soon as they’d closed the last one. You knew their coding better than they did and, after hours of digging, you were fairly sure you’d gotten nearly all information relevant to current and future dastardly endeavors.

Once Tony had assured them that he’d know immediately if you tried to pull anything, Bucky and Steve had left, realizing they were useless in this area. Steve had even convinced Bucky to let you free of the handcuffs. Even Tony had left after a while, saying he’d rather assess the information in the comfort of his own lab. You didn’t blame him. The tech lab you were in wasn’t exactly nicely furnished. It was cold and clinical, but it was better than being in the hospital room. At least you could stand up and move around.

You were so exhausted and engrossed in your work that you didn’t hear the door open, nor did you hear someone enter the room. In your defense, he was a trained assassin who was deceptively quiet for someone of his size.

“You’re still awake,” he said, as though he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

You let out a tiny squeak, completely startled. People didn’t usually get the jump on you. You stood suddenly, throwing yourself out of your chair and immediately regretted it. Your pain meds had worn off a while ago and using your left arm had sent a lance of pain through your body.

Bucky stared at you, eyes wide at your sudden movement. You realized he was slightly crouched, ready to defend himself. You willed yourself to relax. Your instincts screamed that he was a threat; they recognized him as The Soldier. You pointedly turned your back on him, putting yourself in a vulnerable position, and sat back down in your chair, hissing at the pain moving caused you.

“Yeah, I’m awake. What about it?” you asked, tone neutral and business-like as you tapped away at the keyboard.

“You’ve been in here for seven hours,” he said simply, taking a seat in the chair beside you. He was just out of reach and you could see him staring at you.

Your eyes widened and you peered at the clock in the corner of the screen. It really had been seven hours. You were suddenly aware of how hungry you were and how heavy your eyelids felt. Unless you counted being passed out as sleep, you hadn’t slept in twenty-one hours.

“Is he out of surgery yet?” you asked, glancing at Bucky out of the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, he got out a few hours ago. It went well. They’re keeping him in a medically induced coma for a while until they’re sure everything’s fine. He’s officially chip-free,” Bucky said quietly, watching you closely.

You nodded in acknowledgement. You froze a second later when the smell hit your nose.

“Ray’s?” you said, swiveling in your seat to look for the source, sniffing the air like a bloodhound. A pizza box sat a few feet away on a desk and you wheeled your chair over to it. You opened the box and inhaled the deep cheesy goodness. It was definitely fresh. Your stomach growled angrily and you didn’t pause to ask if you could have some before you tore off a slice and began devouring it. You were halfway through your second slice of heaven when you remembered you weren’t alone.

You spun in your chair, pizza slice hanging from your mouth, and stared wide-eyed at Bucky, who was watching you with something akin to amusement. As soon as your gazes locked the small smile he’d been wearing slid off his face.

You bit off the piece that was already in your mouth and chewed slowly before swallowing, eyeing him warily.

“Hey, you brought a pizza. Can I have some?” you asked, deadpan, before taking another bite.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “So your love for pizza wasn’t a lie. What else was true? How much of it was fake?” he asked as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

It was unfair how great he looked as he glared at you, icy blue eyes studying you closely.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” you said as you finished off the second slice and reached for a third.

“Try me,” he said, tone short. He tilted his head and you admired his long dark brown locks. You cursed yourself for getting distracted and let out a long sigh.

“Pretty much everything was true, minus what I did for a living,” you said. He let out a disbelieving laugh and you shrugged. “See, I told you you wouldn’t believe me,” you sighed.

“And why should I? You lied to me,” he said, shrugging.

You groaned and rubbed the bridge of your nose with your right hand. “You’ve seen the chip. I bet Banner’s done blood work by now to prove we’re siblings. You saw how they defended Gabe in an attempt to keep me under Shadow’s thumb. Are you really going to keep faulting me for keeping my family safe?” you asked, good arm thrown up in exasperation.

His jaw set and his eyes narrowed, glaring at you as he mulled your words over. You worked your way through the third slice of pizza, studying him just as closely.

“Steve says I should forgive you,” he said quietly.

You raised an eyebrow at him and leaned back in your chair, finishing the crust off before you spoke. “And we both know you suck at listening to other people’s advice. So, what are you gonna do?” you asked, morbidly curious about what his answer would be. If he decided he didn’t want anything to do with you you’d lose your first friend in a hundred years. If he decided to give you a second chance you knew nothing would ever be the same again; there was no going back to being James and (Y/N), normal people and best friends.

“You saved my life in the hospital today. I didn’t get a read on those agents. If you hadn’t warned me I might be dead right now,” he said slowly, expression unreadable. “You also had multiple opportunities to take me out, but you didn’t, even though you knew that if I stopped you it would result in Gabe’s death. And that was all before you knew I was the Winter Soldier,” he said, staring at you as though you were a particularly difficult puzzle. There was a pause, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, before he asked you a question. One simple question. “Why?”

You laughed. It was a humorless sound, full of pain. “Because I refused to be what they wanted me to be. I resolved to never become the monster they tried to force me to be,” you said quietly, gaze locked with his.

His eyes were a storm of emotion as he looked at you. “That’s all? That’s the only reason why you saved me today? To spite Shadow? To save your brother?” he asked quietly.

Something in his tone broke your heart all over again. It was James in front of you, not The Soldier or Bucky Barnes. Vulnerable, easy-going, kind James who didn’t have a checkered past. The man who stopped to pet every dog in central park and picked you up coffee so you wouldn’t have to drink the hospital’s terrible gruel. The man you called your best friend.

You knew that, deep down, they were all the same person. James was who Bucky Barnes would have become if he hadn’t had all those terrible things happen to him. They were two sides of the same coin, and you realized you wanted to know The Soldier, too.

You shook your head slowly. “No, it wasn’t,” you said simply.

Part 7

This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out  this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

☕ Buy Me a Coffee! ☕

[prepare4trouble]

Since I just watched a Red Dwarf episode with approximately this premise: the Ghost crew were in a potentially toxic area, and Chopper enjoys putting in quarantine procedures when they get back!

Um… What even is this story?

I might have gone a little overboard.

The problem is, I know that episode (and all Red Dwarf episodes) like really, really well.  As in I can almost quote it word for word.  And that is one of my favorites.  Honestly, I don’t think you wanted an entire retelling of Quarantine, but that’s kinda what you got.  I really did try not to take too much from the episode though (note the lack of Mr Flibble and Rimmer’s gingham dress – if the Ghost had a video link in the cargo bay, they might well have made an appearance though!  No luck virus here either, but who needs luck when you have the Force?

Also, to Rob Grant and Doug Naylor, you have my apologies!

Ezra wasn’t claustrophobic, not by a long shot.  The Ghost wasn’t exactly spacious, and his windowless quarters even less-so.  In the past, he had regularly relied on his ability to crawl through small spaces to escape or to hide, it had saved his life on occasion.  This, however, was very different.  They had entered the Ghost through the cargo bay doors, and found that they couldn’t get out into the rest of the ship.

There was something about being in a place that he couldn’t get out of that bothered him.

It wasn’t a completely unfounded discomfort, considering what had happened to his parents.  Or considering the lingering threat of an Imperial jail that had hung over his own head for so much of his life, and still did, if he should be unlucky enough to be captured.

He walked across the center of the cargo bay until he reached the wall, stopped, turned, and walked back again, trying to ignore the feeling of rising panic building inside him. “This is ridiculous!” he complained.  “We’ve been trapped in here forever.  There’s nothing wrong with us.  If we were going to get sick, surely we’d have done it by now!”

Kanan shook his head, a curious expression on his face.  “It’s only been half an hour,” he said.

Ezra forced out an exasperated sound and flopped down on the single bunk that Chopper had thought to provide in the cargo bay.  His knees and elbows hit an unexpectedly hard surface.

Well, that was just great.

“He does have a point though,” Zeb said.  “I mean, not the half hour thing, that’s ridiculous, but how long is Chopper going to keep us prisoner in here?”

“And,” Sabine added, “if one of us does have it, surely locking us all up in here is a great way to make sure we all get sick.

Hera frowned.  “Chopper said the incubation period is up to four days.  If we’re still healthy then, we’re okay to leave.”

“Great!”  Ezra sighed loudly.  Four days?  There was no way he was going to be able to do this.  “I’m fine,” he said.  “I don’t get sick.  Not often, anyway.  And if I was, surely I’d be able to feel it.  Nobody we spoke to on the planet was sick, nobody had even mentioned an illness going around.  Chopper’s probably just messing with us.”

Sabine glanced around, looking worried all of a sudden.  “You don’t think he might be right, do you?” she asked Hera.  “You know what Chopper’s like, if there’s any chance he’s just playing some kind of a joke on us…”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Hera promised.

“Yeah,” Zeb agreed.  “He knows what I’d do to him if he tried it!”

Kanan shrugged.  “Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t.  Either way, it’s going to be fine.”

“Hey,”

Ezra looked up from the space between his feet to see Kanan standing in front of him.

“You okay?” he asked.

Ezra nodded.  “Sure,” he said.  “Why wouldn’t I be?  After all, who doesn’t want to be locked in the cargo bay with four other people for a week, with a porta-fresher and only one bed?”

The corners of Kanan’s lips twitched in something that looked like amusement.  “We’ll talk to him about the sleeping situation the next time he checks in.”  He sat himself down on the bed next to Ezra, then frowned.  “Wait a minute,”  His hands explored the surface of the bunk.

“Yeah,” Ezra confirmed.  “He ‘forgot’ to put any padding on it too.”

Kanan sighed.  “We’ll talk to him about that too,” he said.  “It’s going to be fine.”

“Chopper?” Sabine said, arms folded and glaring at nothing, as they didn’t have any kind of a view screen installed in the cargo bay and were relying on audio only to communicate with the outside world.  “Here’s a thought.  Why do we have to stay in the cargo bay when the only other person on the ship is you?  You’re not organic; even if we did have this virus you wouldn’t be able to catch it.”

Chopper explained about the contamination of surfaces aboard the ship.  It didn’t sound very convincing.

“Chopper, if you’re lying to us, you’re going to be in real trouble,” she said, her eyes narrowing in frustration.

An indignant sound came over the comms, and Chopper cut out the signal.

“Great!” Sabine said, her voice tight with anger.

“Calm down,” Hera told her.  “We’ve just got to get through the next few days, then we can get out of here.  Why don’t you draw something, I’m sure I saw a sketchbook and crayons in the box of stuff he gave us.”

Zeb let out a derisive snort from the other side of the room, one that began to make a lot more sense when Sabine opened the box.  A brand new, crisp sketch pad, and a box of crayons, every single one broken down so far that they were useless, and no way to sharpen them.

“Damnit!” she shouted, and threw the box across the room in frustration.  “He did that on purpose!”

Hera, watching from the corner, glanced at the surveillance cameras through which she was sure Chopper would be watching them.  “I think you might be right,” she said.

“What else is there in there?” Kanan asked.

Sabine reached into the box.  “Oh, hours of entertainment,” she said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.  “A children’s board game with the pieces missing, a datapad that’s either broken or run out of power, I can’t tell which, and a holovid.”

“Well, at least that last thing isn’t so bad,” Kanan said.  “Not as much fun for me, but maybe you guys could narrate…”

“We don’t have a player,” Hera interrupted.

Kanan sighed.  “Right.”

“Think he’s gonna feed us?” Zeb asked.

Ezra shook his head.  “I wouldn’t count on it.  It’s Chopper.  Not like eating is a big priority for him, he’s probably forgotten that we even need food.”

“Well, he has one minute to remember, or I’m going out there and…”

“Going out there?” Sabine said.  “How are you planning on doing that?  Hera’s already tried every single code she could think of on the number lock he set on the door.  Do you see any tools around here to break out?  Do you see any lightsabers to cut through the door?  No.  Because the people of the planet insisted we go unarmed.  If we could just ‘go out there’ there wouldn’t even be a problem, would there?!”

“I’ll get out there somehow,” Zeb growled.  “Just you watch!”

“Guys,” Ezra said, placing his hands behind his head in an expression of nonchalance that he did not feel.  “Relax, okay?  It’s been five hours, I’ve gone without food for way longer than that, we’re not going to starve yet.  He’s given us water, we could easily survive four days with just that.  I’ve done it before.”

“Yeah, well we can’t all be as resilient as you, can we?” Sabine said with a scowl.  “Some of us need food!  And art supplies.  And somewhere to sleep at night!”

Zeb folded his arms.  “Don’t worry Sabine,” he said.  “We won’t really starve.  If it comes down to it, we can eat the kid.”

Hera folded her arms.  “Stop it!” she said.  “I’ll speak to Chopper.  In the meantime, sit down and be quiet, we’ve done nearly a day already, we’re getting there.”

Food, when it came, was five ration bars passed through a tiny airlock capsule that Ezra hadn’t even known about.  Hera took the box and distributed the food to everybody to prevent arguments.  “Sprout flavor,” she said, as she handed them out.

“All of them?”  Ezra hesitated before taking the bar.  He looked up, at the surveillance camera.  “Chopper, you know I can’t stand these, they literally make me throw up!”

Chopper’s voice came through the intercom.  No other flavor on board.

“Chopper, I know that’s not true!” Ezra insisted.

Incorrect.  All other flavors have been jettisoned due to possible contamination.

“Jettisoned?  Chopper, that makes no sense at all,” Hera insisted.  “Find something else for Ezra to eat.”

“Why bother?” asked Zeb.  “He said himself, he doesn’t need to eat.  Keep these coming.  They might be disgusting, but if he’s not eating there’s more food for us.”

Ezra rounded on him, only barely resisting the urge to give in to the dark side of the Force.  “Fine, if you like that idea so much, why don’t we take your waffle stash when we get out of here?  Share it out among everyone else.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t have a waffle stash,” Zeb said.  He tore open his ration bar and finished it in two gulps.  “This isn’t half bad actually, by the way.  A bit to eat really hits the spot.”

Ezra balled his hand into a fist and pulled it back ready to plant it in Zeb’s face.  Seeing this, Zeb’s expression spread into an amused grin as he prepared to retaliate.

“Stop it!”

Kanan’s voice from the other side of the room cut through the argument.  “That’s enough.  Ezra, sit on the bunk.  Zeb, over at the other side of the room, now!  It’s going to be fine, we just need to…”

All four other occupants of the room turned on him with one voice.  “Stop saying it’s going to be fine!”

Kanan backed off a step, and was just about to answer when Chopper switched on the intercom again.

Irritability is symptomatic of the virus.  Please stand by for room decontamination.

“Wait, what?” said Kanan.  “Irritability is symptomatic of being trapped in a room with four other people for a day with nothing to do and nothing to eat!”

Correct, however it is also symptomatic of the virus.  Further symptoms include irrationality and mental instability, followed by eventual system shutdown.  Preemptive system shutdown and reboot required for any chance of cure.  Stand by for decontamination.

“Reboot?  Full shutdown?” Ezra gulped as everything began to click into place.  He hadn’t seen anyone that was sick on the planet.  He also hadn’t seen any droids.  “Chopper, what kind of a virus was it you said they had on that planet?”

Irrelevant.  Stand by for decontamination.

Ezra stared wildly around the room.  “It’s a computer virus,” he said.  “And Chopper’s already got it.”

“Never mind that!” Kanan said.  “What does he mean by system shutdown?”

“Nothing good,” said Hera.  She was already by the panel at the door, the cover removed and her hands in among the wiring.  “I don’t think I can do anything without tools,” she said.

Ezra took a deep breath.  Was it his imagination; the panic returning, or was the air getting a little thin?  How exactly was Chopper planning on executing the ‘systems shutdown’? “Guys?  I think…”

“Don’t talk, save your breath.”

Okay, so they figured that one out already.

Hera’s fingers continued to work at the wires, but with no way of cutting them, even if it were possible it would take too long.  “I’ve already tried every numeric code that might mean something to Chopper.  I can’t access the wiring properly without my tools.  I don’t suppose the Force would help with this?”

Ezra stepped forward.  “I guess I could try to guess the number…”

“No, Ezra.”  Ezra turned to see Kanan behind him.  “I don’t think that’s what she means.”

Ezra turned back to Hera, eyes wide, questioning.  She nodded.  “Do it.  Use the bunk, maybe, that looks heavy enough.”

Standing side by side, Kanan and Ezra concentrated on the single bunk that Chopper had provided them, lifting it and driving it with as much force as they could into the door, again and again until the metal started to buckle and a gap appeared.  Air, recycled and stale, but full of precious oxygen, began to enter the room, and Ezra took a deep, thankful breath.

“Keep going,” Zeb called.  They pulled the bunk back again, and once again thrust it forward into the door.  The metal buckled further.

“I think I could get through there,” Sabine said.  “I’ll go find Chopper, make sure he doesn’t try anything else while you guys get everyone else out.”  Without waiting for a response, she headed for the door, dropped to her knees and began to squeeze through the small gap.

“Go easy on him,” Hera called as she disappeared.  “It’s not actually his fault, and he has told us the way to cure it.”  She stared at the damage to the door.  “I can’t believe he made us do this to my ship!”

At the other side of the door, Sabine turned and peered through incredulously.  “I’ll try not to hurt him too much,” she said.  “Well, at least until he’s back to his slightly less murderous self and we see what he has to say for himself.”  With that, she disappeared.

“Whatever she does to him, he deserves it,” Zeb said

Ezra thought about that  Actually, he wasn’t so sure.  If Chopper had been sick without realizing, and his sickness had made him paranoid enough to believe that a group of organics could be carrying a computer virus, then Hera was right, it wasn’t exactly his fault.  

Still, there was no way that Chopper wasn’t going to pay for this.

[reiouj]

i can’t believe i’m doing this

@potato-fan-girl managed to convince me to post my writing?? why do i let you talk me in to these things i hate u

ps @taylor-tut i finally wrote the thing

sick boy lance and some fluff under the cut

Lance held his head in his hands as it pounded, eyes squeezed shut while the alarm blared in his ears. He knew he should be getting up, getting his armor on, but he was having a hard time even keeping his eyes open with the headache he was sporting, let alone get up and actually move. After a few more rings of the alarm he finally managed to get himself up from his sheets and onto unsteady legs, tugging his armor on as quickly as he could while his body protested. He’d only been on his feet for a few minutes, yet every muscle in him ached for rest and relaxation, begged him to just lay back down.

‘No, I have to go down to the deck.’ He reminds himself, tugging on his helmet before sliding open his door and getting himself down to where the others were waiting for his presence in a half jogging manner. He only slowed once the rest of the team came into view, the lights bright in his eyes and making him wince in pain. “Nice of you to finally join us, sleeping beauty.” Keith snickers, earning a reprimanding glare from Shiro before they turned back to Allura to get the necessary information as to why the alarm went off. “Indeed. Lance, that was much too slow. Had that been an actual alarm, there would be some serious issues.”

“Lo siento, princessa.” He murmurs, feeling the way his brain seemed to throb behind his eyes with each word he spoke and sound he heard. “I have a really bad, uh.. Quiznak, what’s the word…” He felt his mind blanking as he tried to search for the proper term, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily before it finally came to him. “Headache, right, that’s it. My head hurts.”

He noticed Hunk and Shiro giving him looks of concern at the short lapse in memory, to which he returned a weak smile. More than anything he wanted to just go lay down and sleep it off, but he was sure he wasn’t the only person who’d had a headache before on this ship, so he elected to just push through it and get whatever they were doing done.

Allura didn’t pay any mind to the moment of forgetfulness, however, and merely nodded in response to his apology. “Alright, well.. Don’t let it happen again, it’s much less than okay.” She warns before turning to address the entirety of the group. “Today I’m sending you on a small and short practice mission. I’ve set up numerous bots down on the uninhabited planet below. You’ll be treating it like prison break mission, and trying to get all of the bots in the cage free without too much damage. Every prisoner who gets injured or dies in your hands is one punishment or penalty activity.” She explains carefully, pulling up what seemed to be satellite images– or rather, a video feed of the floating hunk of dirt where they would be practicing. “I’ll be watching you all from above, however I will not interfere unless absolutely necessary. I’m sure you all can handle a few bots each, yes?”

Each word Allura spoke felt like a stab to Lance’s head, each syllable twisting the knife around and making the pain worsen. By the time she had finished her explanation his headache had turned into a full blown migraine, pounding against the inside of his skull. No amount of caffeine would help at this point, though he didn’t have time to down a few cups of coffee anyways, or the means to use any of his normal methods. ‘Luckily it’s only a headache,’ He thought to himself as the group headed down to the hangars. 'If it was anything more, I don’t think I would be able to handle it.’

Perhaps he spoke too soon.

—

As they flew out in some sort of formation Lance could feel each twist and turn in the pit of his stomach, nausea bubbling up as it seemed to do flips every time his lion did. A small, acidic burp escaped him, burning the back of his throat and making his already weak stomach feel even weaker. The little he had eaten before they headed out and the dinner from the night before seemed to be threatening to come up all at once, forcing him to slow a bit as they were coming in to land on the planet.

“Hey Lance, you okay buddy?” Hunk’s voice came through the comm, clearly laced with concern for his friend as he saw the way the Cuban’s normally sun kissed face seemed to pale, and yet flush all at once. “You don’t look so good. Maybe you should head back to the castle?” He suggested after a momentary pause, only growing more concerned with Lance’s slow response time.

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m fine.” Lance waved the suggestion to return to the Castle off almost immediately once Hunk’s words had registered in his aching head, giving him a smile through the screen as they landed. “It’s just my head, I can deal with it.” It wasn’t a total lie, per se– though it wasn’t just his head, he could handle it just fine. He didn’t want to bother anyone with whining about feeling bad or anything, and a headache wasn’t anything to act childishly over! 'WWKD, what would Keith do?… He’d probably just work through it, right? Hell, he’d probably feel better after a workout since all he ever does is fight and train.’ Lance gently snickers to himself at this thought as he grabs his bayard and heads out of Blue to meet the others on the ground, managing to not upheave the entirety of his stomach onto the compact dirt beneath his feet.

“Alright. The cage seems to be in the center of that crudely built base.” Shiro explains once the team had gathered around him, bayards in hand and scowls on their faces for having to go on such a dumb mission. No one expressed this annoyance, however, and opted instead to just listen to Shiro’s spiel of the plan.

Lance, however, could barely focus on the task at hand while his heartbeat seemed to thrum wildly in his skull, blood rushing against his ears while his temples throbbed. His eyes squeezed shut momentarily as he bit back a groan of pain, trying his hardest to just focus, focus, focus–

“–nce? Lance, buddy?” Pidge’s voice rang through his muddled thoughts as clear as a bell, drawing him out of his mind. His fists released from their clenched forms, nails having been dug into his palms to try and quell some of the other pains in his body. “Hi, yeah, sorry, I’m listening.” He managed to rasp out, the words feeling like they clawed their way out of his throat. Since when had his voice gotten that bad?

Shiro shared a concerned glance with Keith and made note that Lance hadn’t tried to give himself any excuses for the zoned out expression he had been sporting just moments before. He then also took note of Lance’s features, paler than his usual tanned complexion, seemingly dull instead of warm, and his eyes had a glassy look to them. This was all extremely worrying, but Lance had only complained of a headache, so he assumed he was just overreacting like a mom. Then Shiro heard Lance’s voice and felt his worry return tenfold.

Lance, on the other hand, seemed to brush off the scratchiness of his voice and just laugh about it, clearing his throat after a moment. “Well, alright. Then me, Keith and Pidge will head in. You two hang back and pick off bots from a distance.” Shiro nods, heading to the makeshift bot base stealthily with the green and red paladins in pursuit. Lance merely nodded and allowed his bayard to form in his hand, feeling the hefty weight of the weapon tug against his arm. Hunk eyed the tanned boy cautiously as he set himself in a good position to take shots at the now swarming bots.

“Good job, paladins.” Allura hisses sarcastically in their ears, watching from above. “You’ve already tripped the alarm and alerted them. This was supposed to be a stealth mission.” Lance simply rolled his eyes at this, which then caused a sudden dizzy spell to come over him, legs going weak and forcing him to cling gently to the rock he stood by. “Lance, are you feeling okay?” Hunk asks, concern clear on his face along with his nervousness.

Lance turned his head to speak but shut his mouth when dark spots began to swirl in his vision, head swimming as he tried to force out a response. He felt his weapon slip from his fingers and clatter to the ground as he stumbled slightly against the rock, only increasing Hunk’s alarm. “Lance? Lance, buddy, talk to me..! Are you alright? What do you need?”

The Cuban felt extremely woozy as he stood on trembling legs, grip on the rock loosening as he realized he wouldn’t be able to make it through this without passing out in some capacity. He took a few shaky steps from the rock to prevent himself from hitting it before turning back to Hunk, a weak smile on his face– or was it a grimace? He couldn’t really tell.

“I don’t feel so good.. I’m really… Mareado…” He managed to choke out to his best friend before his gorgeous blue eyes rolled back into white and his body fell limp to the dirt, black overtaking his sight. The last thing he heard was Hunk calling out for him to stay awake before he completely passed out.

“Lance? Lance?! Stay awake, buddy, you can’t sleep right now. Hey, come on, wake up.. Lance, th-this isn’t funny…” He kneeled down to try and rouse the boy, his shaking and moving of his limp shoulders seeming to do nothing. By this point he was scared, really scared, and he quickly got onto the comms. “Uh, guys? Something’s wrong with Lance– I-I can’t– He won’t wake up, I don’t–”

Shiro heard Hunk’s panicked rambling in his ear and felt his heart drop in his chest, fear taking over as he mentally punched himself for letting the mission continue as it had when Lance was so clearly ill. He shouldn’t have ignored the signs like that, and just told Allura that they couldn’t do the mission, but… Lance seemed okay, and he seemed to want to push himself through whatever he was suffering.

“Hunk, stay calm, what happened?” He replies after a moment, unable to prevent the shake in his words as he starts to run back out to them with the 'prisoner’ bots and the other paladins in tow. “Did he get hit or anything?”

There was a moment of radio silence before Hunk came crackling back on, voice still sounding panicked, though less so, finally responding to the black paladin’s question. “N-No, he seems to be fine..” He mumbles into his comm as he carefully cradles Lance closer to his body in the most protective way possible.

“Alright, just hold on, we’ll be there soon.” Shiro orders, appearing a few minutes later with a worried Pidge and Keith in tow. “How is he? Has he woken up at all?” He questions, kneeling down on the other side of the still unconscious boy and carefully pulling off his helmet. Shiro hisses as his fingers brush against the back of his neck, feeling heat coming off of him in waves. “No, not at all. He’s been out since he dropped.”

Lance’s face was flush with heat, sweat beading up on his forehead while his body trembled with shivers, causing his features to contort slightly in discomfort, which only heightened Shiro’s concern. Quietly he pressed his hand back against his neck, brows knitting together. “He’s on fire.. His fever is really bad. We gotta get him back to the Castle. Allura,” He calls out to the Altean who was stationed above them, just watching silently. “Lance is sick. We’re coming back up.”

“Alright, I’ll let Coran know. We’ll prepare him some medicine. What are his symptoms?” She questions as Shiro carefully scoops Lance into his arms and brings him into the Black lion while Red and Yellow carry Blue back to the Castle ship. Shiro waited until he had the Cuban settled in his lap and he was on the way before replying. “He’s feverish, he seems to have a sore throat, and–”

As if on cue Lance began to cough wetly, bringing himself back to consciousness as he tried to loosen whatever was trapped in his lungs. “Shiro..? Did we free them?” He croaks, earning a sympathetic look from Shiro and a small smile. “Of course. And we couldn’t have done it without you.” He murmurs in response to Lance’s question, gently patting his back and frowning at the heat. How had he gotten this bad without anyone noticing?

As soon as they all landed in their hangars Shiro helped Lance out, one arm around his waist to support his weight while the other’s arm lay around his shoulders. He managed to help him stagger to the makeshift living room and lay him down on the couch while the team gathered pillows and blankets. “Shiro….” He murmurs, looking up at the older paladin with a weak smile. “I feel like shit.”

Shiro smiles gently at this and shakes his head a bit, patting his head as the others finally return and they start gathering on the couch with Lance, snuggling up to him beneath blankets and turning on a movie. “We’ll make sure to get you feeling like your old self soon, don’t you worry.”

“Feel better soon, okay?” Pidge chimes from next to him, looking up at him and tilting her head a little. “And next time don’t try to train while sick, you idiot! You worried us all!”

“Gracias, guys… You’re the best.”

[elletromil]

Goodbye Moon, goodbye Merlin, goodbye New Handler Guy John

So all day yesterday I wanted to write but couldn’t bring myself to touch my keyboard/pen. Then I saw the post about signal guy Fred and was hit by inspiration. I still went to bed and slept like a baby without writing a word, but this morning I just started writing the Merhartwin idea I had while reading the post and finished it in very little time.

It’s set in an alternative time-line where Eggsy did come to work at Kingsman but not as a Knight and where there is no Valentine and Chester isn’t a dick. At least so far. Don’t think I’ll write more in that particular verse but who knows.

It’s a very silly story and hopefully you’ll enjoy reading it ;) Also thanks to @insanereddragon​ for being a life saver by knowing exactly what post about Harry’s name I was talking about and sending me the link <3

Goodbye Moon, goodbye Merlin, goodbye New Handler Guy John

“I am about to board the plane, I’ll see you soon.”

“Alright, see you at the debrief.”

“Goodbye Merlin, goodbye New Handler Guy John.”

Only Merlin answers, but Harry hasn’t expected anything else.

None of the new handlers assigned to the careful watching of any live transmissions from the glasses in real time has ever replied to him. Harry doesn’t take it personally. They’re busy making sure the handler on case isn’t missing anything anything important or that could prove important for another mission while also making sure the agent and handler they’re watching over aren’t doing anything suspicious. It’s both a security measure and good practice for all the new handlers or punishment for the old ones that need to be put back into their places.

Considering the nature of his mission, dismantling a drug cartel, or in other word, a fun but low-risk mission, he’s pretty certain he’s been assigned one of the new guy. Harry might have no idea who, since even Merlin doesn’t know who it is. He might be head of the branch, but he still has to be accountable.

However, knowing who it is or not, Harry has always found that it doesn’t hurt to be polite.

The new handler is doing valuable work after all, even if it surely doesn’t look that way to him at the moment. Many a time, the analysts have cracked a case or been put on a new one thanks to the observations done by the silent handlers. They deserve the same respect as everyone at Kingsman.

They also have to put on with his flirting with Merlin. It doesn’t matter that Merlin rarely flirts back, damn his professionalism. They might find him amusing, but Harry and Merlin have been together for years. He’s self-aware enough to suspect he probably sound like the worst sap in love ever, teeth-rottingly sweet in not a good way.

They’re a good sport for not making gagging sound over the comm-line, unlike all the other Knights he goes on joint mission with.

So yes, even if wil never be able to greet them with their real names, going for the generic John, he’ll always acknowledge them.

~

Merlin isn’t on the tarmac when he comes back, which is disappointing but not surprising. He does try to come and meet him after every missions, but he’s also head of the handler department. Emergencies happen all the time.

He’s about to make his way to Arthur for his debrief nonetheless, when one of the many technicians comes running after him. He smiles when he realises exactly is making a fast approach toward him.

“Hello Eggsy.”

The young man waves in reply, too busy catching his breath. That means he probably ran all the way from his desk to here and Harry’s his with a wave of fondness. Silly boy.

“Hey Harry. Something’s happening on Caradoc’s mission, both Merlin and Arthur are busy with it.”

He’s grateful that Eggsy has caught up with him before he could take the train back to the shop uselessly, but he barely suppresses a snort when he realises Merlin must have sent him to warn Harry. His partner is getting soft in his old age. Not so long ago, Merlin would have purposefully make him lose his time just because he’s that kind of dick.

“What about you? Are you busy?”

“Nope, just finished my shift!”

“Heading home?” He would like to get some updates directly from Eggsy about his time at Kingsman, but he doesn’t want to keep him away from his mother and sister either.

“Actually, I was thinking of grabbing a bite.”

Harry can recognize an invitation when he hears one and he smiles warmly at the young man.

“A man after my own heart. Let’s go see what the Kitchens have for us.”

***

“Take the left Galahad, you should come to a door. The safe should be on he wall to the right, behind whatever painting Grobber will have thought fit to hide it.”

Harry doesn’t answer him with words, but he sees the hand gesture that means he’s acknowledging the direction he’s been given. It’s weird when Harry is in no position to answer him, but he’d rather have him silent than in a shoot-out because he’s been detected.

He’s not sure Harry shares his opinion, he does adore the sound of his own voice after all, maybe even more than he has survival instincts, but so far he’s behaving.

The rest of the mission is uneventful -- boring --and Merlin is keenly aware that he hasn’t seen a bed in three days, that the couch in his private office is still as uncomfortable as ever for a nap and that he would kill for a cup of tea.

Those are all things he mentions to Harry, among many others, in order to keep himself focused and not put Harry in danger. And also to fill the silence on the other side of the line. He’s lost enough agents to find it chilling to the marrow of his bones.

Harry doesn’t disconnect until he’s safe in his hotel room, after he’s made a sweep of the room to make sure there aren’t any bugs, and not until he’s stood in front of the mirror to let Merlin see with his own eyes that he is truly in one piece.

“Goodbye Merlin. Goodbye New Handler Guy John.” He raises his hand towards his glasses, but before it goes dark he gives Merlin a stern look via the reflection. “Go take that cup of tea now.”

~

It had been his intention to listen to Harry’s order, but the moment he had gotten up from his chair, Isolde had required his help in order to stop Percival from blowing up an entire district. A task made even more difficult when he had realised the agent’s motives. Human trafficking is always a sensitive subject, no matter how long you’ve been in the spy business.

Once everything has calmed down and the world finds himself with fewer human traffickers than an hour ago but with just as much buildings standing in one piece, he is dumbfounded to notice he’s got a cup of tea in hands.

It’s half-finished and still warm, which means he’s been given one while dealing with Percival’s situation, but he has no clear memory of it.

Thankfully for his paranoid mind, he doesn’t have to search for the culprit for long, Eggsy toasting him silently with his own cup and a wink from the other side of the room. He rolls his eyes at his antics, but doesn’t fight the fond smile that wants to break out.

He admits he had had some reservations about transferring him from the tailor branch to the handler branch at first, if only because nothing in his background had indicated he had what it took, but he’s grateful Dagonet had hounded on him until he had accepted. Had it been only Harry, he could have ignored him easily, but the old tailor had been like a mad dog with a bone as soon as Eggsy had picked up on the fact Kingsman was more than a simple tailor shop.

But the young man has proven resourceful and no one will deny he picks up on new tasks and challenges quickly and easily. Even Arthur has mellowed out about him, admitting that if his job as a tailor had been given to him as a favor to his dead father when Eggsy had called for help after his mother had gotten pregnant and his stepfather imprisoned, his ascension through the ranks is all on his own merits.

Of course, benefits from Harry's friend friendship as well as his own, but the same can be said of everyone at Kingsman. Maybe not their friendship specifically, but what makes Kingsman strong is the relationships they all share. A lone wolf would never last long.

He’s just put his empty cup down when he’s called over again, this time because Bors has found himself stuck in a kindergarten of all places. Merlin is still exhausted, but the tea has taken off his murderous edge at least.

He’ll have to find a way to thank Eggsy.

***

“Hello New Handler Guy John.”

Galahad’s feed pops open on his screen, meaning he’s made it to the gala in one piece and they are both in for a few hours of really boring surveillance. Usually, he enjoys looking into Harry’s missions, even the simple ones, because he gets a glimpse into Merlin and Harry’s relationship without feeling too guilty about it.

Unfortunately, tonight’s just about recon, about identifying the players without drawing attention.

He wishes he could talk with Harry, but he knows he would be a rather poor stand-in for Merlin. Sure they are friends, but he’s smart enough not to read too much into Harry’s flirtation and Merlin’s warm looks. He might be becoming a kick-ass Excalibur, but being a hard-worker won’t make anyone fall in love with him.

Though, it did earn him Arthur’s respect this way and it turns out that when the old man stops scowling, he’s actually pretty decent.

Still even if he knows that he has no chances, he cannot stop loving them.

It’s the main reason he’s volunteered to be the silent watcher on Galahad’s feed any time they need someone, even if he’s no longer a new guy, Vivian had raised an eyebrow, but thankfully said nothing. It’s already hard enough to get people to do it, she’s not about to discourage volunteers.

It’s pathetic, he cannot pretend otherwise, but it makes him feel like he’s part of something that way. They don’t know it of course, and he doesn’t plan on them ever finding out, but at least, that way he can take care of them in small ways.

Bringing food to Merlin, making sure Harry’s equipment gets checked up in priority, taking on more work so that they have just a tiny bit more time together...

They seem much more happy lately thanks to it, which in turn makes Eggsy happier, even if it’s kind of a double edge sword. Them being happier makes them even more tactile with him for some reason and it’s getting harder to remember that he’s not part of their relationship, not in the ways he wants it. He’s just their friend.

Harry’s next comment under his breath distracts him from his thoughts, but even if it’s whispered he can hear how the words are slurred, as if he’s drunk.

It puts Eggsy on high alert because Harry isn’t supposed to play up his inebriation and he’s still on his first glass of champagne.Judging by what he said, he’s not trying to catch the attention of whoever’s watching his feed. He’s acting as if nothing’s wrong, but now that Eggsy is looking for it, he can see a slight swaying motion of the feed.

At the same moment he sees a familiar face in the crowd and he curses loudly when he recognizes Grobber, the man looking awfully gleeful as he stares at Harry.

He might be wrong and if is he’ll get shit for it, but he prefers that to whatever will happen to Harry if he’s caught by Grobber’s men after being drugged.

“Galahad, Galahad do you copy?” He forces himself to keep calm, since he has no idea what effects the drugs will have on Harry.”

“New Handler Guy John?” Harry sounds very confused, but the fat he hasn’t recognizes Eggsy’s voice confirm his worst suspicions. He’s been drugged.

“It’s Excalibur actually.”

“Oh. Hello Excalibur,” the words are infused with a warmth that would give him butterflies if things weren’t so dire. “Something’s wrong... I think.”

“Yes, your cover has been compromised.”

“Shite. What do I do?”It’s only once he’s asked him that Eggsy realises that right now, he’s not just the silent handler over-looking a mission for extra precaution, but that he’s now the primary handler. He could give back the reins to Merlin, but bringing him up to date would cost them precious seconds they simply cannot waste.

“Can you walk to the buffet table?” Harry doesn’t reply vocally, but his feed show that he’s walking closer. Eggsy allows himself a moment of relief when he sees James Bond in the same spots as before, still looking like a sulking child.

MI-6 won’t be happy, but judging by how bored he looks, Bond isn’t on any high scale mission at the moment.

“Do you see Bond?”

At the name, Harry groans, but he still walks up to the other agent, without protesting. They might be too alike in some aspects to stand each other on social occasion, but they share a profound respect that allows them to work well together.

Bond doesn’t show his surprise for more than a quarter of a second and he must grasp the situation pretty quickly because he walks up to Harry with the smile of some greeting a very dear friend.

“Hardick, old friend, I never thought I’d see you here!”

If Harry wasn’t drugged and in need of assistance, Eggsy is sure Bond would have regretted calling him by his real first name, but given the circumstances, there’s not much Harry can do.

While they try to make small talk, something made difficult by Harry’s state, and giving Eggsy a view of the room, he realises he’s no longer alone at his desk.

“No Q, I don’t know what this is about, but I’m patching you through with the one who can answer.” It sounds kind of bad for him, but if Merlin looks closed off as he stared at the scereen, the hand on his shoulder is only comforting.

Eggsy barely hears the click of a connection establishing before Q sstarts talking.

“I don’t know who you are but, this better be good.” The voice is much younger than he expected, but this stresses him more than the opposite for some reason.

“Erm... I’m Excalibur, sir. Sorry to have interrupted you own op, but Galahad’s been compromised and this is the first thing I thought of.”

“Compromised by whom?”

“Edward Grobber.” He doesn’t dare say more, but he doesn’t have to wait long before Q makes a sound of understanding, most-likely having pulled up whatever file MI-6 has on the man.

“Right... Well 007 consider yourself lucky, You’re no longer grounded. Your new mission is to bring agent Galahad back to safety. Excalibur, can I entrust my agent to your care? I’ll make sure there are no nasty surprises waiting for them from any of Grobber’ associates.”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”

For a moment he thinks Merlin will take his place, but after a squeeze of his shoulder, he goes back to his own desk, undoubtedly to call an extraction team for the two agents.

“Do you copy Bond?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Right now, you’re both on your own, on what we’ll assume to be enemy territory. I need you to put as much distance between you and Grobber. Fat man in a white suit, looks like he’s been hit by a bus one time too many...”

~

He jumps when a cup of tea suddenly appears in front of him, not sure how long he’s been staring at his black screen for. He’s even more weirded out when Merlin sits on his desk, brows furrowed as if he’s pondering a particularly hard puzzle.

“You did good tonight. Debrief won’t be until tomorrow to let Harry shake off the effects of what he’s been given, but I didn’t want to wait before telling you.”

He feels something uncoil at the praise, but Merlin is still looking at him like he’s an enigma to solve.

“You were quick in recognizing something was wrong and you took the necessary actions to ensure our agent would come back in one piece.”

It’s nice to be appreciated, but he can’t help but shrug at that last bit. Bond’s the one who did all the hard work, Eggsy has just made sure they had a somewhat safe way to the taxi waiting for them.

“Harry sounded... wonky.” Compared to how it had been once they had been safe in the taxi, it had been nearly nothing, but Eggsy is more than used to his speech pattern after sitting on so many of his missions. “I’m used to how he talks on missions and that wasn’t it.”

As soon as he says it, he knows he’s said too much and that Merlin understands the implications behind his words. Understands that Eggsy has been New Handler Guy John more often than not lately.

It wouldn’t be incriminating, but Merlin’s a spy and a damn good one at that. Judging by the calculating look in his eyes, he must have put one and one together and realised just how much Eggsy’s has done for them in the last few months. Realised how much knowledge he’s gleaned on them.

It’s innocuous things really, like how Merlin prefers his tea or how Harry likes writing his report with a glass of scotch at hand that he won’t touch until he’s finished his paperwork, but it’s also intimate details.

He cannot have missed what use Eggsy has made of all that information and he’s probably drawing all the right conclusions about what it means.

He’s mortified and dearly wishes for the ground to open up and swallow him whole, ut he’s no coward. He’ll face the rejection head held high, won’t let himself be ashamed of his feelings.

Which means he’s looking at Merlin when the other man loses his calculating expression and his eyes become just as warm and fond as when he’s looking at Harry.

“Oh Eggsy...” There’s something husky in the way he says his name, something that makes him shiver pleasantly even if he’s berating himself for misunderstanding this for for something it’s most probably not. “Would you come home with me? I’m sure Harry will want to thank you properly after he’s slept it off... And so do I.”

There’s no mistaking that invitation and Eggsy nearly takes the hand Merlin offers him after standing up without questions. But, if he knows what he wants it to be, he’s not sure about Merlin, and certainly not about HArry.

“Is it... Is it just for tonight?”

“For as long as you want.” He’s never seen Merlin so sincere before and it takes the breath away from him.

And really, now’s not the time to have that talk, but that doesn’t stop Eggsy from smiling shyly when he answers what wasn’t really a question.

“That owuld be a very long time.”

“Good. Let’s go now. Harry’s bound to whine if he’s left alone too long.

And just like that, Merlin takes his hand and Eggsy follows him home.

[rockthecotswolds]

A Rocking Day in the Life: Betsy Benn

We meet Rocker and multi award-winning founder of the wonderful personalised prints, gifts and decorations company that is www.betsybenn.com

So Betsy, when did you set up the business and what were you doing beforehand?

We launched Betsy Benn in March 2010 and I’d kind of been doing a couple of things before that. My “big job” was as an events manager for Zurich in Swindon, but after I’d had my baby I really couldn’t figure out commuting from Cheltenham, and all the overnight stays and travelling involved in my role when my husband was also doing a lot of travelling. We’d waited a long time to start a family and I’d always planned to take a career break anyway so I was in the middle of that break when I realised I was surrounded by adorable babies pretty much all the time. 

I took my love of photography and launched a small baby portraiture business. It was doing okay, but my clever husband pointed out that there was a healthy gap between commissions and my photographic printer needed cleaning between each job and this wasted a lot of expensive ink. So I thought I’d design a few prints to sell in between commissions to keep the printer clean – and then the prints side literally exploded and the photography business was history!

Did you choose your office location for any particular reason?

Um – have you seen this door? Talk about kerb appeal. 

Before we moved into the Royal Crescent there were three full timers working in my house, and sometimes two part timers as well. We were literally falling over each other at some points and at Christmas time it was beyond daft to try and manage that. 

We’d already converted the loft and built a garden studio to maximise the house space, but when I walked into the building we are in now, I fell in love! So big, so spacious, it was more than we needed, but you know we have filled that to its limits and we need to think about how we take the next step and where that might be.

How many people do you work with and what do they do?

We have two full time Betsy helpers – Catherine, who is the office manager and basically makes sure the place doesn’t fall apart and reminds me to pay the bills whilst also giving excellent customer service and Rachel, our resident graphic designer who designs everything I ask for and also solves practical problems like “how will we engrave these aprons without unfolding them”. They were both off at the same time for a week once – I sort of enjoyed the challenge of being back hands on again, but the post only went out on time twice, there were large piles of things for them to look at when they got back and my wine consumption that week doubled. 

Then we have Stuart, a freelance graphic designer who helps us when we get uber busy and when we have techy questions about a particular issue. He and I have really similar music tastes so when it’s just the two of us in the studio I get to play very loud 1990s grunge! 

We have an open door it feels like when it comes to other floating helpers. We always get busy at Christmas and try to find some local graphic design students who want to earn a few bucks. And we offer internships in the summer when we are quiet and can spend some time sharing our skills and learning all about what’s new from the student’s perspective.

What’s a fairly typical day for you?

I drop the small one at the school bus stop at 7.20 so I’m normally in the studio by 7.30. If it’s not too busy at work I might sneak in a quick swim or gym session first and then rock up at 9 like a normal person. First I go through the new orders and see what the day’s workload looks like for me and everyone else. The beauty of a small team is that we all work so well and in harmony together and most things are understood by most people. 

There are some graphic design things that my office manager doesn’t get involved in, but that makes sense! We joke now that we work on a telepathic level and we don’t actually need to say most things out loud, and it’s kind of true. I might start a job and then get pulled away but Rachel or Catherine will seamlessly move in and finish it without me asking. The reverse happens too. I’m very lucky that my team love the jobs they have and are totally engaged in the success of the company. It makes working together very easy. 

I try not to get involved too much in the actual orders these days, I need and love to work on new designs and also the bigger strategy for the business, the comms plans, the commercial direction all of that. I get drawn back into the orders every Christmas which keeps my skills sharp and my finger on the pulse. So my day could involve writing blog posts, working out a social media plan for the months, developing new designs and products, reaching out to other creative businesses for the creative hub plan I have for the future (!) or even making and photographing new products.

How do you get to work?

It’s a quick drive. I wish I could do it another way a bit more regularly. On Fridays in the summer I will often walk in because I don’t have to do either end of the school run, but every other day I feel like I’m squeezing the absolute maximum amount of time in the office as I can before I have to head off and collect my son from school in Stroud. And even then I’m quite often late! 

Every spring I say that I will cycle in a bit – but (big secret here) I never actually learned to ride a bike when I was young and although I have a bike now, I’m still very much not in control of where it goes – so there’s some work to do there!

Where would you recommend to eat during your lunch break?

Star Bistro is right next door which can be both awesome and dangerous. We have a great relationship with them and they have been known to deliver sausage sandwiches to my desk. That takes some beating. Cheltenham is full of eateries though, we are very lucky. 

SO Wagamama on a Friday, Huffkins or Swallow bakeries for any day that needs soup and cake, Bottle of Sauce for a half price burger on a Monday, Gianni’s for anything with loads of garlic, Boston Tea Party if you haven’t had breakfast yet, The Stable for Pizza, Turtle Bay if you need heat or have a cold coming and I can’t wait to properly try out Kindness & Co – I’ve walked past a couple of times and it looks soooo good.

What’s been the most challenging and most rewarding part of Betsy Benn to date and why?

Wow, the answer to that will change on an almost daily basis. Challenges apparently help you to grow, right? Like forcing rhubarb? I’d say that launching and growing two businesses in a recession has been a fairly big challenge in and of itself, whilst still trying to find time to do other life stuff (tell me we all have days when we forget to eat, yes?).

But I think the biggest challenges are in keeping on creating new designs and collections that resonate with our ethos and our customers and then, of course, finding our customers – especially the new ones – and telling them about these great new products. We’ve had huge levels of success with notonthehighstreet.com and they have a great customer base, but we also need to be independent and support ourselves in that way.

I think the most rewarding stays the most constant and there are two biggies. It was a challenge to build the right team and get the right working environment, but we got there and we all really enjoy rocking up to the studio each day. 

We’ve all come through personal disasters the last few years and having each other on a daily basis has helped pull us through! The second huge reward is the feedback we get from our customers. The things we create are so personalised and really all about a person’s story and their relationship with the gift receiver. They make the best gifts and we are constantly hearing how a print made someone cry, or was the most loved present of all. It puts a massive smile on my face every day.

Any new products we should be looking out for this Christmas?

I am always guilty of falling a little bit in love with our latest products and actually (although that can be dangerous) I think that’s a good sign. If you don’t love your product, why would anyone else? And we really want to create products that people love and will carry on loving for a long time. 

So our latest products are our personalised denim aprons which have been flying out! Thankfully other folk love them too. They are these gorgeous hipster style dark denim aprons with a tan leather look pocket on the front that we can engrave with pretty much anything. They’re fabulous.  

In Christmas decorations we launched a new decoration called Lasso The Moon which was inspired by the film It’s A Wonderful Life. It was a labour of love to get the right materials and make it look the way I wanted, but I love it so much! 

And in prints we are just about to launch these amazing designs which look like typical vinyl record sleeve artworks, but they feature your own photographs, so you can be “the band”. Brilliant fun for any music fan!

What’s your most popular?  What’s your own personal favourite?

Well, see above, I love all my babies! But the one most dear to my heart will always be the bus blind destination print. It kind of launched my business and is still a classic best seller. We just made a video to promote it a bit more – wanna see? (click here). I just love the way you can tell a whole life story with this print, or just the highlights of one amazing year. 

And every year we sell out of our amazing Balloon Advent calendars that are actually sold by our sister company, Luna Studio Designs. We were on TV a couple of years ago on Kirstie’s Handmade Christmas with them and they were also on the front cover of the Notonthehighstreet.com Christmas Gift Guide, so they have taken on a bit of a cult status now. Very cool!

If you could recommend one place to go in the Cotswolds to a first time visitor where would it be?

JUST ONE?? Oh that’s hard. The Cotswolds is such a draw for so many different types of people that it’s hard to choose a one size fits all. Let’s see…. (my brain is exploding right now).

 Okay – you need to come to our house for a week whilst the Literature festival is on. That way we can show you the best bits of Cheltenham whilst it’s alive with clever types, we can treat you to a lunchtime steak at 131 and then a pint of Stowford Press at The Green Dragon which we will walk off all over Crickley Hill and marvel at the autumnal colours of the season. 

Followed by an evening spa at Cowley Manor. We’ll also take in a craft course at the New Brewery Arts centre and maybe even a day of cookery skills and a wood fired pizza at the Daylesford Organic Café whilst you’re here. 

You see – there’s too much to choose from!

How do you unwind after a day at work?

I’m sorry, UNW…..what? I’m not familiar with that concept. 

You might want to roll your eyes a little, but I’m one of those annoying people that lives up to that motivational quote print that you see in an insurance sales office “If you find a job that you love, you’ll never work a day in your life”. Newsflash – it’s kind of true. I’m answering these questions at midnight, with a glass of wine at hand, because I’m in “work” mode and enjoying it. 

The big thing that no-one ever really shares with you when you decide to work for yourself, and it’s kind of obvious, is that you’re in charge and you get to decide how busy you are. You might think I’m talking rubbish, because as a retail business you are dependent upon people placing orders with you and buying your things! And then of course you will be busy fulfilling those orders, but you have to wait for those orders to come to you? 

Running a successful creative business is not the online equivalent of having an honesty box on the side of the road for the apples you’ve just harvested from your garden trees and this can be where a lot of craft based businesses let themselves down. 

There is always something that you can do in this world to be telling people about your business, your products, your ethos, your story, your dreams – anything! And in that way I say you get to choose how busy you are – you get to choose your bus-y-ness! If you’ve told a great story and people are beating down your door to get your products, then you can be a little quiet for a while. 

But if that’s not the case, there a million ways to share what you are doing with your potential customers. And, like most entrepreneurs I’m sure, my mind is like a pinball machine on multiplay, with little silver balls hitting targets and lighting up lights right left and centre. 

I’m currently in the process of reaching out to every creative person in the county in the hopes of building an online creative forum where we can all support each other and chat about the things that are getting in our way, or the latest brilliant thing we have discovered that makes life easier. 

And maybe one day that online forum might lead to a physical cooperative work space – who knows – but get in touch if any of that sounds interesting!

Our tagline at Betsy Benn is "a design for every story". 

Well, here, we've collected together our little promotional pieces that tell the stories of our designs, how they are made, what our customers love about our products and their stories which we translate into our personalised prints and designs.

www.betsybenn.com

Betsy Benn’s Awards to date

Best New Product: notonthehighstreet.com Make Awards 2013 - Winners

Entrepreneur of the Year: notonthehighstreet.com Make Awards 2012 - Winners

Best Customer Service Award:notonthehighstreet.com Make Awards 2011 - Winners

Business of the Year 2014 - Gloucestershire Women in Business Awards - Winners

Rock the Cotswolds is a not-for-profit campaign created to promote the talent and creativity of the area.  

It is sponsored by Crowe Clark Whitehill in Cheltenham - their belief in what we’re doing and generous support helps keep the campaign alive and kicking!

www.rockthecotswolds.com