#I accidentally saw something on tumblr which like fair never check tags before

[amandasgeekblog]

I found half the treasures in TUNIC but now I'm pretty lost. Can I be smart, that's the question

[agust28]

love in the grocery store 2

pairing jaehyun x reader WC ? tags fluff Notes Sorry for the parts I didn't want to but Tumblr had a limit :( Also I literally rewrote the plot like 5 times and have at least 7 drafts In my notes. I wasn’t sure how to link part 2 on the part 1 post sorry again :(

Not even 2 weeks later you find yourself going back. Okay, to be fair, prices were getting outrageously high! You couldn’t keep convincing yourself that splurging on the groceries was better than going back to the forbidden store. Your mind constantly being reminded of the cute employee might have also played a part in the decision, but you’ll never admit that. You had to prep yourself in the car for about 20 minutes before actually entering the store. It sadly didn’t work because as soon as you walk in you wanted to walk out. Think about the prices, think about the prices, think about— “Excuse me,” an annoyed customer shoves you aside. “Sorry,” you squeak out, already embarrassing yourself, and you haven’t walked 5 feet into the store! You exhale before grabbing a cart, which did not fight this time, and head in. You look around trying to spot the cute employee from last time but no luck. You don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. Shaking your head, you remember why you’re here, and that’s to get groceries and head out. No detours! Most of your list has been crossed off except for the milk. It was a bit difficult to navigate since you were so used to your old grocery store. You're about to turn the aisle when you accidentally bump into someone. “Sorry! I—” you look up, and it’s like déjà vu. Before your mind can melt into a puddle, he speaks. “Oh hey! You’re the girl who fell into the carts!” His face of surprise morphs into concern. “Are you okay now? You didn’t look too good last time.” Speak, woman, speak! “Yes! I’m okay!” You say a bit loudly, startling him from your enthusiasm. Please universe, just let me shop in peace! “Ah, that’s good! You ran out before I could get a good look.” You look away from embarrassment, hoping this interaction would just end. “Yeah, uh, sorry, it was kind of embarrassing.” He smiles, watching your cheeks blush. “No worries, I totally understand! Well, I’ll let you get back to shopping.” He turns to walk away when you suddenly remember that you still need milk. “Wait! Where can I find the milk?” He turns around and tells you which aisle it’s in. “Or I could just show you? If you’d like.” He rushes the last sentence as if he expects you to turn him down. You nod your head yes, and he smiles widely at that. “Ok, follow me!” You follow next to him as he leads you both to the dairy section. You’re walking side by side when he takes a look into your cart. “You’ve got a cat? I love cats!” You smile brightly at that. Cute and an animal lover? You could melt. “Yeah, one cat and one dog,” you say, pointing to the dog shirt that’s also in your cart. You both continue to share your love for animals before he stops. “Well, this is the milk,” he points towards the wall of milk. You thank him and grab a gallon. From the corner of your eye, you still see the cute clerk standing near you, looking as if he has something to say. As you contemplate whether you should ask if something was wrong, he taps you on your shoulder. “Hi, I probably shouldn’t be doing this but um—” he stops to look around a little uneasy “sorry, I thought I saw my manager.” He breathes out and continues, “I was just wondering if I could have your number?” You’re taken aback because this is the last thing you imagined coming out of his mouth. He takes your surprise as disgust and immediately starts to backtrack. “Sorry! I just thought you were cute! And wanted to have your number to check up on you!” Now you're laughing. “Check up on me?” He sees your smile and visibly relaxes. “Yeah, you know that fall looked really hard. It'd be good to have my number just in case.” You smirk. “In case of what? I fall on your very dangerous carts again?” “Exactly!” He pulls out his phone and hands it over to you, hoping you'd agree to exchanging numbers. And of course, you do! You'd be crazy not to. The two of you exchange numbers and names and bid farewell. You step out with groceries that will no longer cost a leg and a new contact that you'll hopefully keep in touch with.

[emsylcatac]

[Posting it in a separate post because Tumblr still hates us with asks and read more aha]

Tagging you here so you know I answered: @fightyspidey​

Aaaah i remember telling you I’d get down to your ask in a while and well, it’s been indeed a whole while haha! But here it is!!! Hope you’ll like it!!

* * * * *

Chat Noir was frustrating. Adrien was frustrating. She never imagined she would catch herself thinking that one day.

And yet...

“You’ll be safe here,” he said,

sweetly.

“I’m so sorry this akuma has decided to target you, Marinette,” he put her down,

sweetly.

“I’ll come and check up on you afterwards, I promise,” he added while smiling,

sweetly.

Marinette sighed, watching him vault away towards the akuma before calling on her own transformation and running after him.

And she couldn’t really blame him—she had fallen for his sweetness, after all. For Adrien’s sweetness. And it was Chat Noir’s sweetness that, despite what her head always claimed, had made her heart beat a little faster and her cheeks a little redden that faithful evening on the rooftop. If only she had known at the time.

But now, right now, it wasn’t Adrien’s sweetness that she wanted to see in her partner. Well, that wasn't exactly true. She loved it and she wanted it. But she also wanted the banter and the stupid puns and the over-dramatic acting and—

Marinette released her transformation and groaned into her hands. She had headed straight back where Chat Noir had left civilian-her after the akuma, hoping to arrive before him.

Oh, yes, Chat Noir had been as in shape as ever, bouncing and smirking and laughing at the akuma. But Chat Noir didn’t know that Ladybug was Marinette, and Chat Noir didn’t know that Ladybug knew that he was Adrien. It was a mess.

Marinette was a mess. And even more of a blushing and stammering fool with him now, her brain very usefully supplied.

Maybe it was why he was acting so sweet with her, even as Chat Noir now that she knew his identity. Maybe she only had herself to blame, really.

“Hey, I’m back, just as promised,” a voice startled her thoughts.

She was met with Chat Noir’s kind smile. “Was everything alright for you? I hope that I wasn’t too long, I had to take care of the victim after the fight.”

“Oh no, you’re fine—I mean!—it’s fine! Not that you’re not fine, just—ugh, kill me now.”

He chuckled, almost politely, the kind of refrained laugh she now knew to associate with Adrien. Adrien in public. Adrien surrounded by people.

Not Adrien when he had been alone with her and had handed her his umbrella. Not Adrien when he was Chat Noir and—just not Adrien when he was Chat Noir.

He was frustrating.

“Don’t worry, Marinette, I understood what you said. Do you want a ride home? I know that you can walk, but we could be faster!” And he was smiling at her, expectantly. Sweetly, again.

Where was the wink? The borderline cocky smile? The puns and the dramatic tone? The “Oh, what would you say about a ride home with its city’s finest super-hero, Mademoiselle?” followed by a wiggle of his eyebrows?

She must have pulled a face or have taken too long to answer because his smile slowly became shy and uncertain.

“Why do you act like that?”, she blurted out, and oh god Marinette, not like this!

Adrien blinked, clearly not expecting this. “Sorry, like what?”

“Like that. Like...like Adrien.”

He frowned. “Hum, because I am Adrien?”

She sighed. “I know! I mean—all shy and nice and... Not that you’re not nice as Chat Noir, just...”

She was making no sense and was probably being mean, wasn’t she?

“Marinette,” he said, clearly not getting her point, “I don’t understand... I’m just as much Adrien as I’m Chat Noir...” He had his brows furrowed now.

“I know that’s not what I wanted to imply or—”. She groaned. “Look, what I mean is: ever since I found out your identity, you have been acting all shy and kind with me—which isn’t a bad thing! It’s just that...you tend to be, you know, more outgoing. As Chat Noir, at least.”

She looked up to see his face. A small “oh” was pulling at his lips.

“I mean, not that we never had awkward encounters while you were wearing the suit before,” she cringed at the memory, “but...you were also more...inclined to pun or act a little bit more...silly,” she ended with a grimace, not sure she had found the right words.

Adrien stayed silent, absorbing this information. She waited nervously, hoping that she hadn’t been too blunt or that he hadn’t taken it too badly.

He bit his lip, and she saw his expression slowly morphing into a sad one. And it was one thing to see Adrien pulling this face—it had already broken her heart more than once. But seeing it on Chat Noir, who was almost always cheerful, her support, her partner...it was something else. It was heart-wrecking. She suddenly felt awful for being the one to have put it here.

“It...it’s just that...It’s just that I’m not really used to someone knowing my identity, I think. And we’re friends but...I guess, because we know each other when I’m not Chat Noir, I would feel a little bit awkward or...I don’t know, you also said that you didn’t really like my jokes so maybe I was afraid that you would think I’m weird...” He sighed, before meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

Marinette couldn’t take it anymore. She threw her arms around him and gripped him tightly. She heard him yelp in surprise but didn’t pay it any mind.

“If you’re a mess,” she said in his ear, “then we’re both idiot messes. I know..I know we’re not as close as you and Nino are,” and she knew it was a lie but she couldn’t exactly say that to him, “but you can...you can make as many jokes with me as you want, understand?”

She felt him nod just as he wrapped his arms awkwardly around her. “You can act dumb with me and I’ll be stupid with you. I’m stupid, you know? I’m the silliest person you’ll ever meet!”, she assured; she felt him chuckled, and it almost sounded like a sob. Was he crying? She was sure that she was starting to, by now.

“A-and you can pretend your ego is as big as a whale who just swallowed a pachyderm, if you want—”

His teary laugh cut her ramblings. “Hey, that’s not nice for either of the whale or the pachyderm.”

She chuckled but went on as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “—even if I know it’s not true, but you can pretend it is and you can be dramatic. I want to be dramatic with you, too. I mean, you know I can be theatrical, right?”

“Right,” he laughed. Probably remembering this awful episode that she tried so hard to forget at Musée Grévin, but who was after all a part of their story now. Maybe she shouldn’t have made an allusion to it. But in this instant, she didn’t regret it.

“Good.”

They slowly untangled themselves and looked into each other’s eyes. His were still slightly teary and it was making her even more emotional to see it. Hers must not have been much better.

“Thank you,” he said after a while. “For talking to me about it. And for what you said. You’re amazing, you know that?”

She was sure that she was blushing furiously now, but she didn’t really care. She smiled widely at him and mustered the bit of courage she had left. “Of course! And...you’re amazing too, you know?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed at the praise. “Hum, thanks. Weeeeell,” he clapped his hands together in front of him, “how about I get you home by the highest ranked transport in all of Paris, young and fair Lady?”, he said still a bit awkwardly, but she appreciated the effort.

“Why why, thank you, oh mighty hero,” and oh god she sounded just as awkward, “I would love if you did!”

“Then hold on tight, and enjoy the ride!” And with that, he lifted her up and vaulted in the direction of her house.

Maybe getting such closure with him would lead to her accidentally spilling her own identity; maybe he would simply recognise her as their friendship would blossom and slowly venture into banter territory. But Marinette couldn’t really find it in herself to mind.

(spoiler: Marinette’s identity didn’t even last two days after that—her reactions to his teasing were too familiar, from what Adrien said).

[freebooter4ever]

i’ve seen the discussion going back and forth on boundaries and sexual objectification, and i don’t have much to add to the conversation other than to say everyone is allowed to determine their OWN ‘lines’ and just because we don’t vocalize them doesn’t make them any less valid. but here’s the limits i set for my blog if anyone feels it is important for them to know (<3):

personally I consider ‘characters’ fair game for anything goes, with ‘public personas’ a little more iffy. ‘RPF’ isn’t new - it just takes on a new more accessible/visible form nowadays. i remember reading my first fic about a ‘real person’ back in my LOTR fandom days - it was a story in first person perspective about the main character meeting orlando bloom on a plane before he was ‘famous’. like a lot of these types of stories, it wasnt so much about the person as it was about the meet cute. the actor was just a convenient placeholder with a handsome face and some personality quirks thrown in to make the romance/dialogue more specific. i personally dont read much xReader fic nowadays, but mostly only cause i’m an old fart who can’t relate to the ‘you’ format. i miss the good old days when people actually created OC’s and then inserted them into things LOL. but also LOL if you think i’ve gone an entire year of quarantine without some imagined personal fantasies of joe mazzello (or steve aoki in the years before)(ramilicious can attest to this. she can also attest to most of these fantasies ending in friendship rather than anything explicit cause that’s just how i roll these days lol). the line i draw is i would never post these types of fics in a place where the subject could accidentally find them - you have to go looking for this stuff on tumblr, most fics are given explicit ratings and under read-mores. with the blacklist tags it’s pretty easy to filter things out. its even easier to add filters to ao3 searches. i am NOT going to do something like message steve aoki and say ‘yeah i watched that movie Ibiza like five times, here is my 1k fic where you’re the dj and i’m the one night stand’. but obviously people still enjoy imagining scenarios like these otherwise movies like Ibiza wouldn’t exist?

for art, i consider anything already on display up for grabs, we all know a certain person’s ass is all over the place...all you have to do is google ‘need for speed’ and rami’s name. HOWEVER, in the case of actors i personally would not draw anything more explicit than what’s already there. i’m not gonna draw full frontal nudity for rami (unless he gifts us with it in a movie, i suppose) or anyone. this is 100% a personal choice for me. 

i was a sophomore or junior in college when i volunteered as a figure drawing monitor where i’d time the nude model’s poses and help them set up the stage and lighting and such. there was this one guy in his mid forties probably, a regular who came every week, and i always thought of him fondly till one day (the day after i ran into my Hot Programming TA during dinner and later sent him an email begging him to go on a date with me because i was desperate for kissing experience)(and Hot Programming TA emailed me back within minutes saying yes) this artist guy who i saw all the time and thought i knew fairly well, decided to draw me instead of the model. which would have been fine except he drew me naked. i was NOT naked at the time, i was wearing a shirt, and a bra, and a full prairie skirt with alternating calico and floral patterns. he drew what he imagined was underneath all that. he came up to me after the figure drawing session and showed me his drawings and told me i had been ‘glowing’ and my response was to laugh it off awkwardly and get the hell out of there as soon as i gave the model their pay check. but inwardly i was thinking a) i was NOT glowing for this creepy man twice my age and b) i did NOT give him consent to sexualize my body under my clothes and then SHOW me that objectification. i never said anything to him or anything else, i continued to be the monitor, and i continued to field off creepy advances from him including multiple job offers, but when i finally realized i could just...stop..and i passed the student volunteer monitor job on to my friend naeem, i also realized that what that older male artist did was NOT ok in my book. and it was probably not something he would do while naeem was monitoring.

nowadays im working in an industry that regularly objectifies female bodies. in the past year alone i have had to deal with requests to make breasts bigger, i have been given character rigs that in addition to the usual elbow, knee, and spine joints also have ‘nipple’ joints but ONLY for the women (to make them jiggle for animation), every time i send out a female pose i get it back with notes that push it further into the sexy type of body language reserved for women (twist the spine more! sway the back more! give it ‘energy!’), i have been told to erase wrinkles and fat and pores but ONLY for the women (men you ADD pores bc realism! and manliness!) and this is all me working for a company that is actually fairly progressive in terms of sexism compared to OTHER studios.

like it or not, sexual objectification is a huge part of specifically women’s lives and how we react to that is our business. for me, turning the tables and putting men on display feels like fair’s fair. i cant stop the men from doing it, so if i want to enjoy sexualizing male bodies, damn it im gonna! like dang it, boy do i want to send steve aoki a thank you note every time he posts a video of himself doing those ice baths during the sunset golden hour bc holy shit gorgeous or working out in his gym wearing VERY little clothes, but i dont because i know what its like when someone imposes their personal fantasies on the subject. or, god, there was that time i had to unfollow nicole’s insta for a while bc i had a very explicit dream about her and realized, shit, i need to take a break and get my emotions under control before i can refollow. and god some of the stuff i see dudes sending her during her live videos on mental illness/meditation is TOTALLY gross and not something they should be confronting her with. and she’s not even ‘famous’ famous. or how some fans send their idols explicit direct messages without consent. THAT feels inappropriate to me.

a part of me feels like i shouldn’t have to defend this. men don’t. they’re even encouraged in mass media to sexualize women. but i also recognize the importance of talking about consent. the importance of recognizing that a celebrity deserves to have their boundaries respected. these are my lines in fandom. other people have different lines they won’t cross, and that’s okay to me. i block or blacklist any blogs or tags i think go over the top.

heck, even in fandom-only spaces i still try to keep my own more sexual fantasies off this blog and only in private messages with my friends and mutuals, and i feel like that might come across as unintentionally prudish or judgmental sometimes. i’m not ‘horny on main’ very often. but like...every time i reblog that particular ‘washing machine’ gif of joe mazzello am i thinking about him naked and thinking about how he’s got very loooooong feet, and ‘gee i wonder if that means /other/ things are Too Big for my tastes’ but also ‘gosh wouldnt that make a pretty picture to draw’???? hell yeah.

i dont know who is gonna actually read this essay but yolo i guess :)

[erin-epica]

Woop-de-doo, it's Lord Scarlet stuff part 2

This was a post I planned on making WAY sooner, but I accidentally lost the original draft so I didn't even bother to try doing it gain until recently. And just now something happened that changed everything; and I mean what both DID and DIDN'T automatically give me the right to post this. I almost deleted my first post at that, and here's why:

In the first post, I mentioned that when I initially found out Vic was lying to me, I was quiet about it and just stopped talking to her out of fear, and then when I asked for help on what to do I was told to leave without a word. I don't think that was entirely the right thing to do in the long run, because it may have been the easiest way out but I'm better off with proper closure.

And the thoughts she left me scarred with never left my head. Time and time again, I'd find myself crying myself to sleep again at the thought of Brock forced to hide romantic feelings for Master Frown and not know who he was anymore while Frown was left unaware and in love with someone else, even if it wasn't Lord Scarlet.

And the pain sometimes came with a want to confront Vic one last time and open up to her about how I wasn't blind anymore, and how much she really hurt me. But I, again, wass scared she wouldn't care and would cut me off.

So when the pain got worse, I did what any coward would do: tell everyone else about my pain.

Now I DID tell friends of mine other than the Unikitty Amino staff about what happened, and they were all sympathetic and understanding about it. But then I told almost everyone, and then made my vent post on here (as well as Wattpad). As much as I wouldn't want to call them call out posts, they might as well have been. I didn't want people to harass Vic and make her mad...but at the same time I kinda did. I was too scared to face her that I was hoping that someone would do it for me. I even tagged accounts of Vic's. Not cool of me at all.

Now the Tumblr and Wattpad posts got me pretty much more of the same: sympathy, and acceptance that I had moved on. No one came after Vic but we could still agree that none of her actions were justified (I even got @careeningle's attention...sorry about the aneurysm)

Now comes the next important thing that happened, because I mentioned @friffinx kinda being responsible for me getting back to the Lord Scarlet Amino to write the message that I did. In it, I said that after I sent the message I did I would leave the Amino again & for good.

Well...I lied. I still checked in every day for the same reason I started venting: I kinda wanted Vic to see my message. Even if she'd ban me, I wanted to see if she'd ever notice my message. And that would've been the end of it if it wasn't for Brook.

I briefly mentioned Brook in the last post. She was another OC of Vic's, and was exactly to Brock what Lord Scarlet was to Master Frown; a carbon copy love interest. Except Lord Scarlet was far more developed and drawn & written about more. Brook didn't even really have a distinct personality, she was a girl Brock and that was it. But with reptilian overlord eyes. (To be fair, Vic drew Brock like that sometimes too)

(I didn't include Vic's art unless it was in chat bgs or whatever in the last post, but for the sake of referencing/proving a point, this is what Brook looks like)

No one really paid attention to her for the longest time. She was there in the fanfics because according to Vic, "Scarlet needed a friend." And like I said in the first post, Brook wasn't said to be canon so I never found a reason to really care for her. Plus I can only recall someone giving Vic fanart with her, and it was with Scarlet (@plastic-papercuts made it, go follow her she's gr8).

But then one day, for some reason, something in me clicked. I actually thought of a story idea for her. Somehow this bland cutout of a character had potential in my eyes, and I weirdly started liking her because of it. She suddenly felt...more real. I got pretty invested in my idea and newfound interpretation of Brook, and describing it would make this post way longer than it is so if anyone asks about it, I'll probably make a whole other post about it.

Anyway, I came up with a little plan: draw out this idea in the form of a comic and post it to the Lord Scarlet Amino. And see if Vic gets suspicious and checks out my profile and then maybe bans me. It felt a bit better than total silence and she'd probably see that someone gave a crap about Brook after all.

So I started a new chat called "It's Brook" to share my progress with the other members of the Amino, which there weren't too many of but we had fun in it. It was basically me, @friffinx , @soapycocacola, @plastic-papercuts, and a few others who aren't on Tumblr (or at least don't think are) chatting about how awful Vic was and calling out her lazy art tactics like tracing and using assets/clips right from the show. And of course me sharing the comic progress I was making. Again, this doesn't make anything we did right but it felt good getting everything off our chests. We were like a secret rebellion against an absentee dictator. One time Vic came online as we were chatting and even viewed my profile, but nothing happened. And it stayed that way until I opened Amino up one morning. For those of you who don't have it, the menu shows all the communities you're in when you open the app, and all of mine were there except for the Lord Scarlet Amino. I assumed I must've been banned overnight. But I wasn't banned from Vic's other Amino so I commented on her wall on that one. For Vic's sake, I won't show how the conversation went (and I'll explain why at the end) but here's how it went:

Me: Did you ban me from the LS Amino?

Her: There was drama in one of the chat rooms and I'm not having it. I didn't want to do it and it's not a big deal It's just an amino and you're still on this one AM I RIGHT?

Me: Yes, but I assume you read my updated bio. As I hoped you would.

Her: Nope.

Me: Oh. But you know what? Ban me from here too for all I care, I feel like you deserve to know why I left and came back: *insert me finally telling her how I know she lied, that she hurt me, and what I did was wrong here*

Her: Lol ok be that person but keep in mind that I'm one of those people that doesn't gibe a fuck lol

And then she banned me from that Amino too before I could type and submit a fitting farewell reply.

At least I finally got all the built-up emotional pain out of me, but it did help me realize something important: we never really were friends. I wanted more of her content despite all her red flags as a person so I tried enduring them, thinking it'd be worth it, and she only kinda cared about me when I was being a yes man. She never kept any promises and didn't respect me the same way I did her. So I could at least feel confident knowing she most likely didn't care at all when I first left.

@friffinx and the others didn't get banned, though, and Friff even started another chat on the LS Amino called "It's Brook 2" where they talked more about Vic being a terrible person. And it didn't take long for her to shut that chat down too and ban everyone from it that time. Friff sent me screenshots of what happened next (which again, I'm not gonna show), where Vic basically had a meltdown. She changed her username to "Little Miss Guillotine", and made a post about her being "finished with the bushit". In it, she announced that she didn't even like Unikitty! anymore but was still gonna keep/use Lord Scarlet because she wanted to. The part that made my blood almost boil wasn't her views on the show, she's free to have her opinion and I couldn't care less about it. What DID was that she acknowledged that she lied the whole time because "she didn't care anymore" and said that it was "our faults for believing it in the first place" and that "we needed to grow up"/"stop brining it up"

Ooooh boy, victim blaming, my favortie...

Since then she changed the Lord Scarlet Amino's theme to make it about The Penguins of Madagacar (again, fine with me). Either way she was still a narcissist and I thought she'd, sadly, likely never change. And my friends and I all thought that was the end of it.

Until a few hours ago...

I was browsing the Unikitty Amino and saw a new member named BlueCat. Didn't think anything else of it until the user PMed me. And this is what happened:

I didn't know what to think other than "I thought this day would never come", I was that shaken. This was so left field-ish that what else could I do but believe her? It didn't even seem suspicious or like she was trying to be a suck up, that wasn't Vic at all.

But the one thing I knew I had to do was ban her because even if she meant well and did it for the right(?) reasons, but I still asked if I should in the staff chat. @girly-glorious (also amazing so pls check her out :D) told me that yes, it was ban evasion so since I'm a leader too now I could to it on my own. But I knew I had to message Vic first and Girly told me to be careful, so this is what I sent:

And then I banned her, the end (not really)

Now I don't understand how or why this sudden behavior change happened but I don't know if I should question it in case it's personal. But again, I at least want to believe that she's really being genuine and had a change of heart because never in a million years could I imagine her being this mature. Again, she didn't demand that I forgive me or probably even expect me to. But the message still does leave me feeling sorry for her.

Now I thought that was the real end of it until I see the Penguins of Madagascar/old Lord Scarlet Amino on my sideboard.

She unbanned me.

Now I don't know where we'll go from here, if anywhere. I'm not too sure if I can really let my guard down around someone who hurt me so badly just in case she does it again. So I may not talk to her again, but if she really asks something from me, I might try and build up courage to ask her more about how she came to apologizing to me. Plus she followed me on Wattpad too.

But this is why I didn't show our conversation right before my ban or her "f.u." posts. Because I don't want people seeing more of Vic's past behavior and possibly embarrassing her about it if she ever sees this. But that's kinda why I felt like it was 100% necessary to finally make a sequel post in the end; I'm hoping people at least acknowledge Vic has changed and don't keep thinking about based on what I shared out of attempts to gain sympathy like a crybaby.

So before I go: PLEASE, DON'T GO AFTER OR HARASS VIC. I KNOW YOU PROBABLY WON'T, BUT THIS IS SERIOUS. ALL THE PROBLEMATIC LORD SCARLET DRAMA IS STUFF OF THE PAST AND NEITHER OF US WANT TO KEEP LOOKING BACK ON IT.

I hope this helps whoever's reading as much as it did me.

[neon-junkie]

Love Will Tear Us Apart

Summary: Ted comes out of the restrooms to see his best friend making out with a random guy. Why does Ted feel so upset over this? His best friend just managed to pull, he should be happy for him. But he's not.

Pairing: Ted “Theodore” Logan/Bill S. Preston Esq.

Word Count: 3580

Rating: SFW

Tags: Drinking, Alcohol, Nightclubs, Angst, Hurt, Crying, Friends to lovers, Slushies, Circle K, Drunken confessions, First kiss. 

Notes: Love how this was gonna be just a short drabble and became a 3.5k fic!! Figured I’d upload to tumblr :^) Read on AO3

A good night out was something that Bill and Ted always did, whether it was going to a concert, going to the fair, going bowling, etc. However, the pair had recently turned 21 and began diving into the vast and sticky ocean of alcohol. They had drunk before, but something about drinking legally in public totally hits different.

On tonight's agenda was a few beers and drinking games in their apartment, before going into town to try this new club Bill had heard a lot about. They had recently started trying to dress a bit 'nicer' when heading out, which just meant changing from t-shirts to button-up shirts. They continued to wear jeans or shorts and sneakers but would wear some kind of funky patterned shirt, whether it be something simple like a neutral colour or stripes, to bolder things like Hawaiian shirts. They were most definitely dressed to impress, and even if others didn't enjoy their style, they did, so they didn't really care.

Bill and Ted were currently stood in the entrance queue, a good few beers and shots deep. They were at a comfortable level, a bit wavey, but not too waved else they'd be turned away at the door. Bill had explained to Ted that he'd heard a few classmates go on about this club and how it's good to 'pick up a partner' there. The two of them were lacking in the babes department, so figured 'why not?' and even if they didn't pull, at least they had another good night out. The two got in with ease, showing their ID's and paying the cheap entrance fee.

The club was very cramped, packed with a wide variety of young men dressed in outfits that they were clearly comfortable and confident in. The air was musky, slightly damp and hot. The duo had already begun sweating out, and in sync, they undid a button on their shirts and rolled up their sleeves.

"Drinks?" Bill asked. Ted nodded, looking a bit parched as his tongue licked over his lips.

Bill led the way as the two wove their way between people, using their manners to slowly reach the bar.

"Bill?" Ted asked.

"Yeah, dude?" Bill replied, looking over his shoulder every now and again.

"These dudes are.." Ted said, his thoughts and eyes trailing around the room.

"...are?" Bill questioned.

"Well... I don't think they're into babes, dude," Ted replied under his breath, barely loud enough for Bill to hear.

"Yeah, I don't think so." Bill paused for a long moment. "Do you.. like.. feel uncomfortable?" Bill asked as they lent up against the bar.

"What? No! No. Dude, I'm fine," Ted panicked, wavings his hands in front of him to try and show Bill that he was most definitely comfortable being here. "I am most supportive of humans being into whatever they wanna be into," Ted took a pause. "I guess I just never thought I'd find myself in this situation." Ted shrugged.

Bill ordered the first round before turning back to Ted.

"Dude, I promise, I had no idea this place was.. you know... that kinda place." Ted wasn't sure if Bills cheeks were red from the heat, or him blushing.

"Whatever," Ted shrugged again. "We're here now, we might as well make the most of it," he grinned, his hair brushing over his eyes, giving his head a gentle shake to move the hair away.

"Excellent," Bill grinned. The two of them cheers'd before having a shot and washing it down with their drinks.

Our most excellent duo found their ways to the crowded dancefloor and began doing some funky moves. They weren't as full-on as usual, the two had agreed to 'tone it down' when out and about. This was a public place, not their rooms where they'd jump on the bed seeing who can do the highest air guitar. The club was playing a mix of songs. It felt like the DJ was just going through the list of what was currently in the charts, but Bill and Ted didn't mind as every now and again a metal song would come on. Plus, they could dance to anything, tho obviously metal was their favourite.

Both Bill and Ted had felt someone's presence watching over them from the minute they walked into the club. Bill hadn't noticed, but Ted noticed a guy checking out Bill as he ordered at the bar. The same guy had now found himself a few meters away from them with his own friends, though kept glancing over to check Bill out.

"Dude, that guy is totally checking you out," Ted said, discreetly pointing to a group of dancers nearby.

Bill looked over his shoulder and accidentally made eye contact with said guy. Bill looked away very quickly, eyes wide and facing the ground for a moment.

Ted only pointed it out because he thought the two could laugh it off, but Bill's reaction made him regret his decision. Bill looked.. off. He was definitely flustered, and for some reason this made Ted feel sick. He suddenly felt protective over his best friend. Well, he was always protective cause that's what best friends do, but he felt disgusted that someone was looking at his best friend in such that way.

His confused anger was put to one side as the call for the restroom came over his body.

"Dude, I gotta use the restroom. Where shall I meet you?" Ted asked.

"Uhh, I'll wait over by the bar," Bill replied.

"Excellent, I'll be quick," Ted said, and the two departed.

Ted was not quick. There was a hefty queue but Ted made it in time. He walked out, wiping his hands on his shirt as the noise the hand dryer made always scared him. His eyes searched the club as he began looking around for Bill, enjoying the Joy Division track that blared throughout the room.

Bill was at the end of the bar, his back facing Ted. Ted could always spot him in a crowd from that soft curly hair of his. He began making his way through the crowd of people, looking down to make sure he didn't stand on anybody's toes. Ted looked up and stood in his tracks, he had felt his heart drop. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.. well, he could believe it, he just never thought he'd see Bill doing it.

Bill's hand was cupping that other guy's cheek as their faces were pulled together. Ted couldn't help but watch the way Bills' head tilted as they deepened their kiss. The guy's hands were tightly around Bill's waist, one hand rubbing the small of Bills back, fingertips going underneath the hem of his shirt. Ted's eyes saddened as he saw Bills' other hand hold firmly onto the stranger's hip, and he could have sworn he saw Bill pull the guy against him more.

Ted felt sick. Ted felt angry.

Ted quickly turned around and rushed out of the club, he wanted to get away from that sight as quickly as possible. He walked. Ted didn't care where he was going, he just wanted to get away. But no matter where he went, or how fast he went, he just couldn't get away from what he'd just seen.

Why was he feeling like this? His best friend had gotten lucky but for some reason that infuriated him. He'd seen Bill get with people before. No, not people.. girls. He'd seen Bill get with girls before, short relationships in high school, managing to get a number when they'd been out, he'd even seen Bill kiss a girl before. But for some reason, the fact that it was a guy made Ted sick to his stomach.

He questioned if he was homophobic but quickly shook that off. He never had been. Sure, his dad was a total homophobe and had tried to raise him to be one, but Ted just couldn't see what was so wrong with it. People can love whoever they want, right? But if that was the case, then surely Bill can too?

Ted turned and stopped down a quiet street. He sat on the curb for a while, one hand on his knee, his head leaning on it as the other rested on his lap. He probably just looked drunk to the odd person that passed by, but for the first time, Ted was feeling a range of sickly negative emotions that he'd never felt before, and didn't know how to handle them.

They shared an apartment, they shared a room! What if Ted got home to find Bill already there with that guy? Or what if Ted got home and was woken up to see Bill bringing that guy home? He was sure Bill would never do such a thing, at least not without asking him first. But what if he did? What if he started dating this guy and Ted had to see him every single day? He didn't want to feel like this forever. He didn't want to feel like this at all.

Ted brushed the hair off his face to stop it from sticking to his skin as tears began rolling over his cheeks. He wiped his eyes before looking forward, staring off into the darkness as his thoughts continued to be fueled by rage. Ted just couldn't figure out why this made him so angry.

His mind went blank for a moment, all he could feel was raw emotion, no thoughts.

When he snapped back into reality, the first thing he thought of was 'what if I was that guy?' Ted seemed taken aback at his own thought, but realized this wasn't the first time he'd questioned how he viewed Bill and their friendship.

Well, what if that guy was him? Ted had sometimes caught himself thinking about Bill, but not in that usual best friend's way. He'd caught himself thinking about things like the way Bill's eyes lit up every time he looked at Ted. Or how he felt the first time he saw Bill in a crop top. Or how any time they'd made accidental skin contact, the feeling would linger on Ted's skin for hours.

Ted thought about that one time where Bill had fallen asleep during a film and accidentally rested his head on Ted's shoulder. He thought about how Bill's hair felt so soft against his neck, and how softly Bill snored. He thought about how calm he felt at the time, how warm his stomach went. He had felt that warm stomach feeling a few times before, but only ever around Bill. He'd read in many books that that's what love felt like, a warm fluttery mess in your stomach, sometimes so strong it can make you feel sick.

Ted could feel that now.

The more he thought about all the times he'd felt that around Bill, the more he could feel it as he sat on the curb staring off into the distance.

And then his mind just couldn't help but picture it. He couldn't help but swap out his memory of that guy with himself. Ted could see it so clearly; himself holding Bill by the waist, trailing his hand on his lower back, slowly moving his fingers underneath Bills shirt and feeling the warmth of his skin. Bill's hand would fit perfectly around the curve of his jawline, his fingertips brushing through the ends of his hair as he'd be pulled deeper into that kiss.

Ted could see it as clear as daylight, not just the image of them kissing, but the feelings he truly felt towards his best friend in the whole Universe.

Bill clearly had an interest in guys, but would he have an interest in Ted? If Ted were to make a move, would he be accepted? Or would that be it? Friendship over.

The millions of thoughts and questions in Ted's head were abruptly cut off as he heard footsteps of someone running towards him.

"Dude, there you are!"

Ted quickly wipes his eyes before looking over his shoulder, knowing the sound of his best friends voice from a mile away. Bills lightly jogging over to him, his crop top bouncing as he runs, though he doesn't seem to mind.

"Dude!" Bill says again as he comes to a halt, resting his hands on his hips and taking a deep breath. "Why'd you leave?" he asks Ted.

"Oh," Teds unsure of if he should tell the truth, but he can't lie to his best friend, can he? "I saw you with that guy," Ted tells him, noticing how Bills eyes go wide.

"Oh, yeah..." Bill rubs the back of his neck, avoiding Teds gaze as he stares at the floor.

"I don't mind, dude. I just didn't wanna get in the way," Ted tells him which is partially true. As much as Ted wishes it was him that Bill was kissing, he also doesn't want to prevent his best friend from enjoying some romance.

"Really?" Bill asks, his eyes coming to meet Teds.

"Really," Ted nods.

"I thought you... I dunno, might have been mad or something, cause.. you know," Bill waves his hand.

"Not at all, my dude. Love is love," Ted shrugs.

"Excellent," Bill grins. As much as the two of them would love to share an air guitar right now, the mood just isn't right. "So, you wanna come get a slushie with me or somethin'? Sit outside the Circle K for a while?" Bill offers.

"Yeah. Sure, dude," Ted agrees as he stands up.

The pair walk mostly in silence, the Circle K only being a few blocks away. It's their favourite comfort spot, they're not sure why, but the vibes there just always seem right. There's thick tension in the air, words and feelings left unspoken, nerves and guilt present on both of their faces.

Ted questions confessing everything to Bill - how he felt when he saw what he saw, how he ran away, how he wishes that stranger was him. Bill questions apologizing - he shouldn't have ditched Ted for a stranger, he should have told Bill about his feelings before jumping straight into it.

Ted pours their slushies whilst Bill pays, quickly giving the clerk his ID as Bill purchases a small bottle of vodka to pour into their drinks. They'd made this cocktail in their late teens but now they were both legal, they could enjoy it in the car park of the Circle K.

And that's where they're sat now, staring out into the emptiness of the road, the only light coming from the streetlamps and the shop behind them. Ted's about to speak, questioning Bill about how he knew he liked guys, wondering if he still likes babes, pondering on how he can figure out his own feelings towards men with the help of Bill and his advice. But Bill speaks first.

"Ted," Bill says as he turns to him, catching Ted's attention. "My dude, I must apologize to you on behalf of my behaviour. Ditching you in that club for a stranger was most bogus of me. It was wrong, and I'm sorry I did it," Bill sincerely apologizes.

"Bill, my most excellent friend, I accept your apology," Ted smiles at him, though that feeling in his stomach still eats at him, eager to find out more. Ted's known Bill for so long, so many years; he can talk to him about anything, so he might as well ask. He's sure it won't ruin their friendship, especially after tonight's turn of events.

"Bill, I have to ask... how did you know that you... you know?" Ted asks, watching Bills eyes drift from his, back out to the empty car park.

"Well..." Bill begins though his thoughts haven't caught up to his mouth yet. "I guess I always knew, I just didn't, if that makes any sense?"

"Kind of."

"Like, I always knew about my love for the babes, but for some reason, I also had that when I looked at dude. Not all of them!" Bill quickly adds, "just some," he shrugs.

"Oh," was all Ted could reply, taking a sip of his alcoholic slushie. "Have you kissed dudes before?"

"Once, yeah, a long time ago."

"Do I know them?" Ted asks, feeling sickly at the thought of someone he knows placing their lips on his precious friend.

"Nah, dude. This was years ago at that shitty summer camp that Dad and Missy sent me to," Bill laughs.

"Oh, I remember that! I'd never seen you look so happy to be back in San Dimas," Ted laughs along.

There's silence for a short while, the two of them sipping away as the liquor and chilliness of the slushie go to their brains. Bill breaks the silence again, but Ted wishes he hadn't.

"Why do you ask, Ted?" Bill questions, making Ted almost choke on his mouthful of the frozen treat.

"Huh?!"

"C'mon, dude, you know what I'm talking about," Bill laughs. "You can tell me... if you want."

"Errr..." Ted ponders. Despite Bill being open about his interest in men, Ted seems to struggle with his. But this is his best friend, his best friend in the whole wide world, and despite the fact that he's fine with telling Bill about his interest in men, he's worried the conversation will lead on to other confessions. Other confessions that Ted's certain Bill isn't going to like.

"I mean, yeah, I've thought about dudes in that way... but I've never done anything," Ted shrugs, his eyes focused on his slushie, fully aware of Bills gaze on him.

"Oh."

"Yeah..."

The pair go back to silence. Bill picks up on how high Teds barriers are, not wanting to even attempt at knocking them down. He's ready to let his best friend talk to him about this stuff whenever he's comfortable, if he even wants to! Bill understands that Ted might just want to keep this stuff to himself, he gets it, he used to feel like that too. And if Ted never even acts on this stuff then that's cool! Bill will be by his side no matter what, and Ted knows that.

"How's your slushie?" Ted asks as his head flicks over to Bill, catching him mid-drink.

"Excellent," Bill grins.

"Has my tongue gone blue yet, dude?" Ted asks, sticking his tongue out for Bill to see.

"Course it has! Has mine gone red?" Bill jokes, sticking his out in return.

"No, dude... it's green," Ted tells him as his face turns white.

"Wait, what?!" Bill yelps, trying to look down at his own tongue.

"I'm only kidding!" Ted giggles, playfully smacking Bills arm. "It's most definitely red," he reassures him.

"Ted!" Bill shakes his head. "You almost had me for a second," Bill says before taking another sip of his drink. "So, my tongue is most definitely red?" Bill asks as he sticks his tongue out again.

"Yeah, why?" Ted questions, tilting his head in confusion to the side, his floppy hair brushing over his eyes.

Bill's not sure if it's the alcohol in his system that has given him the confidence to do this, and he curses himself for using such a cheesy pickup line, but it's all he's god. The words spill out of his mouth.

"Do you wanna make purple?" Bill asks.

Ted looks at him blankly for a moment, the cogs turning in his head as he figures out exactly what his best friend just asked him. His eyes go wide and his mouth parts slightly, but he slowly replies "...sure."

Bill shuffles closer to him, bridging the tiny gap between their bodies as they always sat so close to each other. Their heads turn in unison, and although there's a slightly nervous pause, their lips finally meet each other.

It's a little weird at first, but Bill is the first one to deepen the kiss, Ted following the lead as he'd never done this with a guy before. For some reason, Ted thought it was different with dudes, but it seems the same, only it feels better.

The flavours of strawberry and blueberry finally mix, along with that tint of vodka. Their slushies were strong with alcohol, probably helping both of them gain the confidence to finally do this.

The two of them eventually break the kiss, looking at each other with hazy yet scared eyes, unsure of how the other felt.

"Well? How was it?" Bill asks him.

"That was excellent, Bill," Ted replies, his tone soft.

"You'd tell me if it wasn't though? Promise?" Bill asks.

"Of course, Bill. You're my best friend. I tell you everything," Ted replies with a smile.

Bill pauses. The sound of 'best friend' just doesn't feel right anymore. "I don't think we can be best friends anymore, Ted," Bill ponders.

"What?!" Ted almost screams. "Did I do something wrong, dude?"

"No, no! I mean, it just doesn't sound right... maybe..." Bill pauses, trying to find the words to say it.

"Boyfriends?" Ted nervously questions. The two stare at each other, checking for any signs of discomfort, but there are none.

"Yeah," Bill nods. "Boyfriends," he repeats.

Ted smiles the most adorable smile, and the two share a small air guitar, laughing along with each other. Their lips meet again, only this time there's a lot more certainty in the kiss, like they've finally found where they're both meant to be.

[wolfpawn]

Once Bitten Twice Shy Chapter 16

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary -  It's time for Marks wedding and Tom is Paige's date, but with the tension between them, they are finding it hard to work through things.

Tag, @wolfsmom1 @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @damalseer @nonsensicalobsessions  @standing-onthe-edge @hiddlesbitch1

anyone else who wishes to be added to the tags, just ask :)

a/n plese note that Tumblr has not been allowing my tags to inform those tagged that I h ave tagged them so you may have accidentally missed a chapter. 

Paige looked at the RSVPs in front of her. Marks wedding was just a few days away. She felt incredibly awkward. Tom was to be her date for it, as would be expected since they were supposedly dating, the only issue was, he was now going to be in a lot of the family photographs and with New York just around the corner, the deal would be coming to an end.

She tried to talk it over with Mark but he dismissed it all with a mere joke.

“You said you were considering paying someone to be your escort for the evening, this way, you save money,” He had jested.

“Mark, Mum will force him to be in some the photos.”

“What does it matter? No, really. He is not ugly, even I can see that as another guy, you like his company and it’s not like there’s going to be some big ugly break up in the end, right?”

In all honesty, she could not argue his logic. “Still…”

“What is the deal, Paigey, you are all bothered about this.” Mark eyed her carefully. “Is it more than you say it is?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is there actually something more to you and your ‘Rear of the Year’ ass candy? That’s what I am asking. Have you two gone past pretending you were just a one night stand that got blown farcically out of proportion and become an actual couple?”

“No, why would we?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you literally are completely in love with him, maybe, just a hunch.” Mark watched his sister’s reaction.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Paige, you have always been the worst liar. I say that with love.” She turned to walk away from him. “What is so wrong with admitting it?”

“There’s nothing to admit.”

“So you don’t love him?”

“He’s a great guy.”

“You know that’s not what I am talking about, Paige. What are you so frightened to admit, what is so terrifying about admitting it?”

“What if he does it too?”

Mark took a step back. He thought his sister was being foolish, trying to simply act as though it was not as serious as it was, but seeing her with tears in her eyes, her words all but yelled in sincerity, that startled him. “Paige…”

“I know he’s not Derek, I know it. I say it to myself over and over but my brain just goes back to that night, to that feeling of everything crashing to the ground again and I never want to feel that way again. I never want to allow myself feel that way again. I don’t. He sees beautiful women every day, throwing themselves at him at his play and everything. I can’t compete with that. It would be only a matter of time before someone better would come, then I would have wasted more time and be burnt again and for what?”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t want to know that. I rather not find out.”

“Then you risk never being happy.”

“I am happy.”

“Are you, Paige? Can you look me in the eye and tell me your dreams of a family have changed, that you feel like it doesn’t matter now?”

“Things change, Mark.”

“Not those things, not that much.” He shook his head. “He’s a great guy and he makes you happier than I have ever seen you. Stop pretending otherwise and enjoy his company. You clearly like him and he likes you so I really can’t see why you would beat around this when both of you have the potential to be happy together.”

“He doesn’t...”

“Yes, he does.” Mark insisted. “Look, I asked him already and he said he was coming, so if you want to cancel his invite, you can be the one to tell him, because I’m not going to, okay?” He got to his feet and looked sadly at his sister. “Paige, we don’t all get second chances, Dad was lucky. You are not going to find too many men that well suited to you, it’s not mathematically possible for them to all be in your age range, in this part of the world, and available so don’t waste this opportunity to make yourself happy. Learn from Dad’s lesson. I am not risking Fiona, she is the best thing in my life. You do the same. He is your Fiona and if you are too dumb to realise that, then someone else will come along and snap him up because as far as men go, he’s a great catch and where will that leave you?” He left the room, hoping to have gotten her to realise how well suited she and Tom were.

*

Tom checked his suit was tidied and not at risk of creasing on the hanger.

He didn’t know why Mark was so adamant he go to the wedding. Paige had barely mentioned it, but he could hardly decline with Mark asking him to be there. What was peculiar was Mark knew the truth, he knew it was all a charade yet he insisted on Tom going to not only the wedding but the family get-togethers before it. Paige had mentioned that she was none too pleased about it all, when he tried to speak to her about it, she simply stated that it was boring. He understood such sentiment, he felt that way during his sisters' weddings. When he stated such, she agreed and spoke to him about it more but said nothing of him joining her for it. Mark had mentioned it in front of their mother, which he suspected that even if he had declined Mark, he would never have been permitted to decline their mother.

This led to a more embarrassing situation. Paige’s family, under the impression their daughter was in a long-term committed relationship, booked them a room with only a double bed in it in the hotel for the wedding. When they entered, he and Paige looked at the bed for a moment before looking at one another.

“If you hog the covers, I’m going to kidney punch you,” Paige warned. “It won’t even be intentional. I apparently do it in my sleep.”

“Are you okay with sharing with me?” Tom checked.

“Yes, you?”

“Yes.”

In truth, Tom was uncertain. Since the night at the awards, since the kiss, he felt somewhat uncertain of things. That moment where she was about to tell him something, he was certain it was something pertaining to them, since then, he felt uncertain, as though they were teetering on the edge of something more. He thought that perhaps she was feeling something similar to him but since that moment, since Oscar interrupted them, she never referenced the situation again, so he had no idea.

“I promise I am not too bad.”

“I know. We did share a bed before, remember?”

Paige swallowed. “Yes, of course.” She did not want to look at him as she remembered the night that started all of this, waking beside him, curled against him, feeling his body against hers after a night of incredible sex. She had thought of that night a few times since. “It’s looking good for your kidneys so.”

Tom laughed at her comment. “That’s a relief.”

“I guess we better go to this dinner.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry my parents and brother dragged you into this.”

“Honestly, I don’t mind, you came to aunt Geraldines for me.”

“It’s not fair on you though.”

“Paige, do you know what is great about you?”

“My sheer lack of giving a shit?”

“Yes, actually.” Tom nodded. “You are entirely honest. Take meeting my father for lunch, you straight up said yes to meeting him on his visit down for the play, but then declined him for dinner because you were busy, so you planned lunch. There was no messing, no pretending you could then suddenly changing plans, you straight away said what you could and could not do.”

“It’s better to lay everything out like that, and it’s handy. When you say you’re busy then, no one seems to think to question you.”

“It’s a good way to be.” Tom commended.

“Perhaps.” Paige sometimes wondered if it was. “We better get ready to go to this meal.”

Tom could see her apprehension. “Is it me of the meal that’s the issue?”

Paige scoffed. “Tom, you will never be the issue. If I could choose this meal or you, you win. You’re far better company, you are a far nicer person than most everyone I have ever met, honestly. It’s not you.” Tom looked at her carefully. Paige’s eyes on his. “Tom…”

He was on the verge of leaning down and kissing her. He even licked his lips to do so when there was a knock on the door.

“Paige, are you two decent in there?”

Paige looked at Tom for a moment, unsure if she just imagined what just nearly happened before walking over to the door. “Yes, Dad?”

“Dinner time, get cleaned up as best you can. We wouldn’t want to be late.” He rolled his eyes.

Paige smiled at him. “We’ll get through it.”

“I love Fiona, you know I do, but that family of hers…I didn’t fight that damn disease to suffer fools.”

Paige smiled lovingly at her father, the memory of the sick man sitting in their living room when she got a lift to Oxford with a classmate one weekend coming to her again. “Dad…”

“Now, run along.” He walked off.

“He’s terrible.” She shook her head. “Mum gets so annoyed when he talks about the cancer like that. He maintains that since he survived it, he can speak anyway he wants about it.”

“Understandable. So Fiona’s family are not as liked as she is then?”

“Fiona’s family have this terrible medical condition, it’s sad really, it’s called pompous twat-itis.” Tom chuckled. “How Fiona is related to them confuses me no end.”

“Now I’m just curious,” Tom confessed. “Am I dressed alright?” He dressed casually in a dark sweater, his dark jeans and favourite pair of shoes.

Paige nodded. She always tried to remain stoic when she saw him in such a combination, but it was difficult because of how incredible he looked. She never knew how a man wearing something so casual look so sexy. “You look great.” She went into the bathroom and tidied herself a little before walking out again. “Ready?”

Tom, who had been in his own head after thinking of how he nearly kissed her, looked at her again with interest. She wore black boots with her black jeans, which very much showed her body, which he had enjoyed previously and could not stop thinking about since. The blouse she chose was elegant and sexy in one and he loved it. It was the same one she wore the night of Ben and Sophie’s. “Yes.”

“Good. I better apologise in advance for anything they say or do. I cannot guarantee they will be very nice or perhaps they will be overly nice, I don’t know which yet.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“Can’t say I didn’t tell you.” She smiled as they left the room.

[darks-ink]

Disinterred CH.14

Vlad Masters considered himself a patient man. He had, after all, waited a long 20 years before he ever acted on his plans of vengeance. He had spend the last 2 years carefully manipulating Daniel to become his son and half-ghost apprentice.

And he had waited a full week for Valerie Gray to catch her bounty.

(Tumblr hates links and I want this to appear in the tags so… for author notes/full fic summary/links to the other chapters/mirror links to AO3 and FFnet, click here)

Valerie hesitated briefly on the doorstep of FentonWorks. The day before had been her first time visiting the house, but she didn’t think it really counted. She had only been there to drop off Danielle, and she hadn’t even used the front door! Hell, she hadn’t even entered the damn house!

Finally she pressed the doorbell. A veritable explosion of noise came from the house, briefly startling Valerie. What was going on in there?

But before she could really think of anything the door swung open. The thundering footsteps she heard before stopped somewhere further in the house.

In the opening of the door stood a teenage boy. His hair was black as the night and his eyes icy blue. Just who she was looking for.

“Hey Val,” Danny greeted, stepping aside to let her in. “I hope dad didn’t startle you – he’s waiting for Jazz to arrive.”

“She’s coming over for the Summer vacation then?” she asked as she entered. Jack was lingering in the doorway to the living room, deflating a little when he saw her. Valerie tried not to feel offended.

Then the man seemed to realize that he didn’t know her, as he frowned at her.

Danny must’ve noticed too, because he promptly introduced her. “Dad, this is Valerie Gray. She’s a friend from school.”

Valerie smiled at the older man, offering him her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fenton.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of an explosion cut him off. He glanced in the direction of the kitchen for a moment before turning back to face them. “Right, nice to meet you too. Why…” He seemed to be struggling for a polite way to ask her why she was here. Or, more likely, why she was here now.

“I asked her to come over, dad.” Danny took mercy on his dad, and on her, too. She wasn’t exactly scrambling to explain that she already knew about Dani’s presence at FentonWorks. That, in turn, likely would force her to reveal her status as the Red Huntress. And besides the obvious fact that it was a secret identity for a reason, it was no secret that Red hated Phantom. She really didn’t want Jack Fenton to unleash his protective nature on her for threatening his son. Never mind that he had done the same. She highly doubted that he would listen to such reasoning.

Danny had grabbed her arm and started guiding her towards the stairs. “We’ll be in my room. Call if you need anything,” he yelled over his shoulder at his dad.

“Right,” Jack said, blinking somewhat surprised.

And then before she knew it she was standing in Danny’s bedroom. She considered looking around for a moment, but restrained herself to a quick glance. The room was almost entirely blue, with space-themed decoration scattered around the room. Quite fitting for a boy who had expressed an interest in space and becoming an astronaut.

But for now she needed to focus on the reason why she was here in the first place. After all, yesterday Danny had promised to tell her everything. And this morning he had texted her, telling her to come over so they could talk in private. Without the risk of anybody overhearing.

“Sooo,” she finally said when she felt like the silence had lingered too long, making sure to draw out to ‘o’. “You were going to tell me the whole story?”

“Right.” Danny glanced around the room before offering her a chair. She sat down while he sank down onto his bed. “It’s… a long story. And complicated.”

“I’ve got time.” She shot him a reassuring smile, and Danny visibly relaxed. His posture eased up, muscles unclenching. Valerie had a pretty good idea of how he felt. She had gone through her fair share of awkward conversations with her dad since she had become a ghost hunter.

“Okay, so… This whole mess started some 20 years ago, when my parents were in college.” Danny leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “They were part of this ghost hunting club. The two of them… and Vlad.”

Valerie nodded to show that she was following. Danny sighed and continued speaking.

“All three of them were close, I guess. I don’t know much. None of them like to talk about it. Anyway, the three of them somehow figured out that there was an alternate dimension where ghosts resided. They built a machine trying to get there. A Portal. A small one, especially compared to the one in the basement, but a Portal nonetheless.”

“And it didn’t work?” Valerie asked, now also leaning forward, intrigued. She figured that if that Portal had worked, ghosts would’ve been known way sooner. At the very least Danny’s parents would’ve been far more prepared for them – and Vlad Masters likely wouldn’t have hidden his ghost hunting past.

“Nope. It exploded in Vlad’s face. He got a horrible case of Ecto-Acne, and…” Danny paused for a moment before sighing again. “And he became the first known half-ghost. 20 years before I got my powers.”

“Oh,” she said. That was… unexpected. But then Danny had never told her how he had become half-ghost, either. Had he gone through something similar? “But wait. If you left behind a body when you became half-ghost, why didn’t Vlad?”

“I don’t know,” Danny admitted with a shrug. “I guess it might’ve been because he didn’t instantly become half-ghost. He suffered through that whole slow Ecto-Acne thing.”

“And I’m guessing that you become a half-ghost in a similar way?” she mused.

“Uh, yeah.” He made a face. “I never told you? When my parents first tried to turn on the Fenton Portal downstairs it didn’t work. Sam and Tucker talked me into checking it out, I tripped over a cable, and accidentally turned it on.”

Yeesh, that didn’t sound pleasant. She hissed through her teeth. “While you were still inside it huh?”

“Yup.” He shrugged. “It was only like a bazillion volts of electricity and ectoplasm, no biggie. It only hurt for a few infinitely long seconds.”

Then he shifted slightly before starting to talk again, clearly eager to change the topic. “Anyway, to get back to what we were talking about. Vlad became the first halfa. Then he cut all contact with my parents, and now blames them, saying that they cut him out of their lives. On top of that he still blames my dad for the accident and wants to kill him. And he wants my mom as his wife because he has been in love with her since college.”

“Jesus.” That was… a lot. And here she was, thinking that she was overwhelmed by all of this ghost business. She had nothing on Danny! No wonder that he always seemed so tired and exhausted in school. “And he wants you as his son, right? Because you’re half-ghost too.”

Danny nodded. “He’s been badgering me since he found out, which was a few months after the Accident. I told him off, since he kept asking me to renounce my dad and all that. I mean, he straight-up told me he wanted to kill my dad, and then asked me to join him!” He hissed something under his breath, which sounded somewhat like “fruitloop”. Then he spoke again in his previous volume. “I guess when that failed he went to acquire some other pawns instead.”

A pawn like… “Like me?”

Danny said nothing, he just nodded again. The grimace on his face told her enough, though.

“Of course.” She pressed her hands against her face and groaned. “I can’t believe I fell for that! Why didn’t I question someone who send a fucking 14-year old ghost hunting equipment! Of course there was something shady going on!” The best ghost hunter he knew, her ass! The most naive, maybe.

“Valerie, it’s okay. I don’t blame you.” His voice was soft, soothing. It reminded her of how badly she could’ve hurt him. Of what she wanted to do to him.

“That doesn’t make it okay, Danny!” she snapped, dragging her hands off of her face again. “He manipulated me. He wanted me to hunt you, knowing that you were… that you are human!”

She was breathing quickly, heavily. She wasn’t just upset, she was angry. She couldn’t believe what that slime of a human being had almost made her do!

“And then he asked me to track down your clone! Which he made! Who is, without a doubt, just as human as you!” she exclaimed with a growl.

And then she stopped in her track. She suddenly remembered the girl she had brought to the Fentons just the day before. The girl who looked like she had been on the verge of collapsing, of dying.

“Oh god, Danielle. I completely forgot about her!” She started to scramble up out of her chair, half-raised before Danny spoke.

“Shh,” Danny soothed, raising his hands placatingly. “She’s fine. We managed to stabilize her.”

“Good.” Valerie slumped back into the seat with a sigh. “What’s… What’s she gonna do next?”

“Well, mom and dad are really excited about the prospect of a new daughter.” He grinned, smile widening at her incredulous expression. “So we’re going to have to sort all of that out, but… She’s gonna stay with us.”

“Good, that’s… That’s good.” Valerie let herself relax into the chair a little further. “What… are we going to do about Vlad?”

“I don’t know,” Danny admitted. “I never really figured out how to deal with him, to be honest. For now Dani is more important.”

“But he’s going to want to know why I didn’t capture her,” Valerie pressed. “What am I supposed to tell him?” A little bit of frustration slipped through in her tone. But she had gotten herself into this mess, so she wouldn’t let Danny suffer for it. Not this time.

“Well,” Danny said with a bit of smirk. “Why don’t you tell him–”

Vlad Masters considered himself a patient man. He had, after all, waited a long 20 years before he ever acted on his plans of vengeance. He had spend the last 2 years carefully manipulating Daniel to become his son and half-ghost apprentice.

And he had waited a full week for Valerie Gray to catch her bounty.

Yet no ghost huntress came. Despite her previous successes, the girl had apparently failed to capture the pathetic should-be clone. It was rather disappointing, especially since she hadn’t even bothered to let him know. That’s what he got for relying on teenagers, he supposed.

He sneered and hit the call button. He would have to ask her about her failure in person.

Soon enough the teenage huntress appeared, retracting her board and landing on the floor in front of his desk. Her helmet retracted, her face neutral for once.

“Mr. Masters,” she greeted, voice rather emotionless.

“Miss Gray,” he allowed with a slight nod of his head. “I must inquire on the status of your hunt of the little Phantom. I’m afraid that I don’t quite feel safe, knowing that she might still be out there somewhere.”

“Right.” Valerie grimaced a little, apparently displeased by her lack of success. She turned away, looking at one of his walls instead of him. “Sorry, Mr. Masters. I… I failed.”

It was rather unlike her to admit failure. No, Valerie was persistent. She didn’t give up. So why had she?

“What happened, my dear girl?” he asked, voice smooth and purring.

“I, uh. I tracked her down, but she got away.” She turned to face him again, an apologetic look on her face. Frustration laced her voice, however. “Somehow Phantom, the regular Phantom, found out. He interfered before I could catch the girl ghost and escaped with her.” She shrugged. “I don’t know what happened after that, I haven’t seen either of them since then. I haven’t been able to pick them up on the scanner, either.”

Her being unable to find them made sense. If they shifted into their human forms Valerie’s scanners would fail to pick up on them. Even if their ghostly cores stayed in human form, they were dormant. Weak enough to avoid detection.

But importantly… How did Daniel find out about Danielle’s presence in the city? It made no sense. But Valerie wouldn’t lie to him, not about this. Her anger towards Daniel’s ghost form would blind her. She wouldn’t work together with him, not to save another ghost.

“How… unfortunate,” he told her. “You might understand, dear girl, that I can’t reward you for this?”

“No,” she sighed. “I understand, Mr. Masters.”

“Well, you better get going then, my dear.” He smiled at her, his smooth politician smile. He couldn’t afford to cast her out. Who knew when she might come in handy as pawn, even if she had failed this time. “And next time, please tell me sooner.”

“Yes Mr. Masters,” she said as her hoverboard reformed again. Her expression was stern, focused. Determined. “It won’t happen again.”

No, he was sure it wouldn’t. Next time he would take care of it himself, rather than trust a teenager like little miss Gray to take care of something this important. Or maybe he would send one of his ghostly pawns. Even if his vultures or Skulker weren’t much more successful in the past, at least they informed him when they failed.

For now though, he had another teenage ghost hunter to bother. If Daniel had interfered and grabbed Danielle like Valerie suggested, he still had her hidden somewhere. But he couldn’t have disappeared, not like she had suggested. He still had his human life, his family to fool.

So what Vlad needed to do was pay the boy a little visit. A quick stop by FentonWorks to speak with him. Yes, and either the boy would admit where Danielle was on his own… or Vlad could just stick a tracker on him.

Another infallible plan, truly.

The door to FentonWorks opened, and Vlad let loose one of his few heart-felt smiles. Because standing there in front of him is the ever-beautiful Maddie. Her clothes left something to wish for, that dreadful jumpsuit that Jack forced on her, but still. She was as gorgeous as always.

“Ah, Madeline–” he started to say, but she held up her hand and cut him off.

“Vlad.” Her tone was hard. Unfriendly. “Come in.”

He had to admit… he was confused. She didn’t seem very welcoming, perhaps something was going on? But then why would she let him come in? Unless it was him that she was annoyed with, but surely not? What could he have done to have angered her?

She walked into the living room, and Vlad trailed in right after her. The sight that greeted him, however, stopped him dead in his tracks.

Maddie did continue moving, however, as she sat down on the closest edge of the sectional couch. Next to her sat Jack, his large orange bulk taking up most of the remaining couch. He immediately laid his arm around Maddie’s shoulders, in a rather possessive manner. Vlad would’ve felt more angered at the display if it weren’t for the fact that the rest of the group was distracting him.

Next to Jack sat Jasmine. Her aqua eyes were set on him, cold and cutting. She had one of her arms wrapped around the person sitting next to her. Another girl, with sky-blue eyes and black hair bound back in a ponytail. Danielle. The girl had her arms wrapped around herself, looking uncertain but hopeful. What did she have to look hopeful about? What was she even doing here, among the rest of Daniel’s family?

On the furthest end sat Daniel himself, who also had an arm wrapped around the failed clone. His gaze was hard like his mother’s, but determined. For once the boy didn’t try to intimidate him with his ‘scary eyes’. Vlad would’ve complimented him, but he was sure that the boy was only refraining because he didn’t want the rest of his family to see.

“What’s this?” he finally uttered, turning to look at his should-be wife.

“This,” Daniel said, standing up from the couch and gesturing at it, “is a message, Vlad. You’ve gone too far. And we’re not gonna stand for it any longer.”

“’We’?” he repeated, quirking an eyebrow. Surely the boy hadn’t… He wouldn’t, right? Yes, he hadn’t been fantastic at upholding his end of their truce, but Daniel had been too afraid to reveal his secret. So, surely not?

“Yes, we,” the boy reiterated. “They know, Vlad. They know everything. Everything you’ve said, everything you’ve done, and…” Daniel grinned, a cocky smile usually seen on Phantom. “Everything we are.”

“You didn’t,” he hissed, a snarl forming. Ectoplasm surged, his core thrumming to life. But he repressed it. He had no need for flashy eyes, not like Daniel. The boy was bluffing, and he didn’t need to provide unnecessary evidence. He would be playing right into Daniel’s hand.

“He did.” Vlad turned to face Maddie again, watching as she uncrossed her arms and frowned at him. “And you, Vlad Masters, are a fucked-up mess of a human being.”

He flinched back at the harsh words of his love. Surely she didn’t mean it? Perhaps Daniel had lied, had embellished his stories a little?

“Maddie–”

“No!” she snapped. “You listen to me! You mess with me, fine! You act like a pathetic little man who can’t accept ‘no’ for an answer? Fine! But you know what you don’t do?” She pushed herself off of the couch, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. “You don’t mess with my children! Any of them!”

Then she leaned in even closer, teeth bared like an animal. “And you definitely don’t come here, pretending none of it ever happened!”

He flinched back another step. Maddie relaxed slightly, moving back as well. The rest of her family, including the pathetic clone, rose up as well. They grouped together, all staring down Vlad.

“Now listen here, V-Man.” Jack crossed his arms, an unusually serious look on his face. “I apologize for the accident in college, alright? And I’m sorry that we never knew how much we hurt you. It shouldn’t have happened, even if we weren’t the ones who cut the contact with you.”

“But that’s no excuse to hurt our children,” Maddie added, also crossing her arms. “To hurt us. If you had just talked to us, we would’ve apologized. Would’ve told you we were sorry. Because we are sorry about what happened to you in college.”

“Carrying a grudge like this isn’t healthy,” Jasmine contributed, speaking up for the first time since he had entered. “It’s not okay. Not for us, but definitely not for you. It’ll kill you, sooner or later.”

“But we’re willing to forgive you.” Daniel stared him down, a flicker of… hope, perhaps?… in his eyes. Vlad couldn’t quite place it, it didn’t make sense. Not in this situation. “Everybody deserves a second chance, even you.”

And then finally the little failure joined in. “But you gotta work for it. You have to apologize to everyone and correct your mistakes.”

He snarled, ectoplasm boiling up in answer to his emotions. His vision faded red, a clear sign of his eyes changing color. “The only mistake I’m correcting is you!” Pink ectoplasmic energy sparked around his hands.

The whole group, in answer, shifted into battle positions. The fists of both Daniel and Danielle lit up, coiling flares of ectoplasm, ready to be fired. The other three all pulled out various pieces of ecto-weaponry, hidden heavens know where.

“We’ve given you a choice, Vlad.” Daniel’s eyes lit up green. “Either you take it and apologize, or you get out.” The last words were growled, the threat more than clear.

Vlad took another look at the group assembled in front of him. Then he huffed, his eyes fading back to their normal blue. There was nothing to be won by fighting them. No, what he needed now was time to plan.

“Fine,” he drawled, flapping his hand in a faux casual gesture. “I will see all of you another time, then.”

And he turned around and walked off, not once looking at the people he was leaving behind.

[thewhiterabbit42]

Full Circle: Part 5

Full Circle Masterlist

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader

Warnings/Tags: Winchester sister!reader, angst, sarcasm, and a whole lot of ways to call someone a dick (among other things), violence  

Word Count: 7,826

Summary:  Gabriel isn’t the only thing from the past being brought back to life, and, once again, you find yourself smack dab in the middle of everything.  

Author’s note: This chapter is tied with The Best Laid Plans as the favorite thing I’ve ever written.  I had so much fun when I originally wrote it and, at the time, really got into the mind set. I actually didn’t end up changing much except for adding more names for Gabe to call Raphael, the conversations around which have made this chapter that much more precious to me.  

All tags are at the end.  If you have a line through your name, the tumblr Gods won’t let me tag you.

Special thanks to @sumara62, my wonderful beta who made it through 15 pages of dick references before being like, “Really?” and @blondecoffeecake for helping add to my repertoire of dick.  You guys are the best.

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission.  Giving credit does NOT count.  Reblogging is ok.***

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If Gabriel’s life were an autobiography, it would be called The Reason We Can't Have Nice Things: A Study in Daddy Issues or Why I Hope I’m Adopted.  Because right now?  There wasn't a single one of his family members he wasn't considering shanking, his father most of all.  

Great.  Fine.  Wonderful.  The man had brought him back.  Gabriel would be sure to send Him an edible fruit arrangement the next time He was in town.  Laced with the plague and made entirely of zombie fruit aka durian (aka what had his father been smoking when he decided anything consumable should naturally smell like rotting flesh?).

Why was Gabriel displeased one might ask?

It might have had something to do with being turned into shish kebab so his brothers could compare dick sizes. (If anything he should be the winner in that department since he was the only one with the cojones to stand up to them).

It might have had something to do with his father being unable to do anything other than stand around, dick in hand, while shit went sideways because He was, in fact, just standing around, dick in hand.  

Maybe it was because the only being who gave a damn about Gabriel was a mother loving human who should hate his very existence after what he did to you and your brothers.  (The father loather in both of you, however, had created quite the bonding experience).  

Or maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t help but suspect there was some underlying motive to his sudden and fortuitous resurrection… like the fact that the heaven bus was on fire again and a fair number of his divine family was ready to drive it into the side of the earth.  

Because it had worked out so well for the God squad the first time around.  

When he found the earth was not, in fact, one giant smoking battlefield or a rage infested zombie land, he was impressed.  He assumed your family had managed to put Lucifer back in time out, though he never would have guessed the how.  

He also never would have guessed who Luce would end up with for roommates. He had been impressed with the creativity until he caught the look on your face.  Heaviness clung to the darks of your eyes making them seem endless.  He knew how cleverness could be a burden and it was like staring at his own reflection, enduring loneliness included.  

He had initially hoped one of you had gotten a few good sac taps in on his behalf, but now he simply hoped you had for your own closure.  Preferably before his brother was wearing yours, but it wasn’t like the sasquatch was going to feel much other than suffocating in his own body.  

Gabriel made a mental note to avoid ever explaining that perk of being a vessel to you.  

Fact check: being a vessel was terrible for the first thousand days or so.  After that it just tickled.  

However, he did have a lot to explain.   

He knew he would end up here sooner or later.  Well, not here here.  He kind of understood his father having a blast from the past, considering the easiest way to pull his vessel to the present was to find the last place it had existed.  Being cockblocked and dropped right where Lucifer iced him, however, was an extra special touch of douchiness, and there was only one being left with that much power (and that much douche).

What he didn’t know is that you would end up here with him and that was what had him close to popping a vessel (literally and figuratively speaking).  It hadn’t been his choice to be resurrected in the middle of a shitstorm, but he had been the one to drag you into it.  All because he had been impulsive, reckless, and unable to look past his own selfish desires.  

There went his argument for being adopted.  

He should have stayed away from you.  Then again, if it was a cosmic coincidence you both showed up at the same place at the same time, he’d put himself in the cage with Lucifer, Michael, and the youngest Winchester and dance the lambada with all them.  The only reason he’d come back to this funhouse of memories was to seal off the doors and windows just in case the rip in the time space continuum was a little more wormy and less like the snapshot he’d initially assessed.  

The moment he spotted you, he should have just walked away.  He could have.  It wasn’t your grief that undid him.

Fact check: seeing your world bend beneath that weight did, however, do things to him he’d rather not think about.

He had only seen you this distraught on one other occasion.  Famine had sunk its influence so deep inside you there was nothing other than a blinding need.  For what, Gabriel had never found out. The urgency in your prayer (along with the fact it was just his name over and over again) suggested he might want to get his winged ass down there pronto.  When he arrived, you’d been so consumed he’d had to put you to sleep before seeing your pain began to consume him.    

Pain, though, was a timeless constant he could rationalize.  So long as there was life, there would be suffering.  What chance did he stand, however, against your guilt?   It pushed against the indifference he had tried to maintain, unknowingly slipping within his walls undetected, until it touched against his own guarded feelings of responsibility.  

Even then, Gabriel could have patched you up (emotionally), saw you out to your car, and went on to enjoy his limited existence at his own personal, completely conjured bunny ranch equipped with endless supplies of chocolate, whip cream, and other sensual sweets… along with eight different versions of what he called not yous.  Those were women who had enough of your features for him to pretend, but not actual carbon copies.

Having no shame and being a super creep were definitely two different things.  

Not to mention how creepy they were when he couldn’t get the personality traits down enough to not make a copy seem straight out of Invasion of the Body Snatchers… not that he’d ever tried or anything.

Fact check: Gabriel had tried once.  For science.

However any illusion of leaving had been shattered in one simple statement.  

Have that drink with me, Sheriff, and I will be.

Green had inked in around his vision and he didn’t have to read your thoughts to know what your plans were.  The two of you were kindred spirits, your personalities sharing several different aspects. The main one was you liked pleasure in many forms and you weren’t ashamed to take it.  Whether it was ordering every pie in the diner when caught in the time loop (and then watching Dean’s stomach explode when you made a pie eating contest out of it) or distracting yourself by seducing the local sheriff, you used your senses to feel good in the moment.  

This moment, however, was wrong.  You sought distraction in his absence, only he was standing right there, so close he had accidentally touched you when you stumbled back a bit (though he was still trying to figure out how that fluke had occurred considering he was pretty sure the only thing close enough had been his wing).

Fact check: the left one did tend to get a little handsy.  

But that was besides the point.  You were looking to get lost in a man from a generation whose idea of a good time was a cup of tea, an episode of Matlock, and a nap.  

Despite the sheriff being apprehensive, Gabriel saw the flash of loneliness that pushed through the man’s gaze.  It wouldn’t take much to get him to cave.  Even if he put up a good fight, you were young, pretty, and way too smart for your own good.  He wouldn’t stand a chance.

Neither did Gabriel when he began to imagine all the things the man would do to you, all the things you would let the sheriff do, and it would all be on his conscience, because it was technically his fault you went on grieving.  

At least, that’s what he told himself.  Admitting the first thing on his mind since getting a reboot was to make you his in every way he’d failed to before was a tad more insightful than he cared to be.  The whole thing was enough to drive him to drink.

Fact check: while there was no driving, there was a whole lot of drink.  The part about making the sheriff run circles and question his own sanity was just an added bonus.  

He needed something to calm the clamor in his head, except it had just made him sloppy if he had missed his brother’s presence slipping into town.  Regret and guilt weighed heavy on gold as he took in the mounting dread on your features.  His weakness had brought you here, and it was up to him to see it did not take you down with him.  

He wanted to tell you as much, but whether it was his own streak of daddy issues or the fact that even the most meaningful relationship he’d managed had ended with a good old-fashioned stabbing (thanks, Kali, always knew you were kind of a bitch), his words fell short as they tended to in these situations.  

Touch, however, was something he managed to do well.  Tips up knuckles drank in the skin along the side of your face, savoring the feel one last time.  He channeled what reassurance he could into the gesture, hoping to calm the panic he felt buzzing through you so you would hear him when he told you to run.  The command, however, became lost as his brother made his grand entrance, confirming he did, in fact, have the worst timing in the universe.  

“Gabriel,” a deep voice boomed over the lingering echoes of thunder as the the silhouette of a man manifested in the center of fading light.  

“Raphael,” Gabriel drawled, looking up at his brother.  “This is an awkward surprise.”  

“Someone’s clearly never heard of knocking,” you muttered, and he felt your relief in a momentary release of tension before everything tightened again.  You slid off his lap, and the absence of your body rang cold as the sudden chill in the room rushed in to take the place of your warmth.  He could see the gears in your mind turning, gaze appraising as you took in his brother’s stoic features.  

Gabriel stepped forward, subtly placing himself between you and the entity who should henceforth be known as the giant dick for being the the biggest cockblock in creation.

“I am disappointed, brother,” The meter-long man-dong said, eyes flicking to Gabriel in obvious dismissal of your presence.   “You must have heard what is happening.”

Oh, Gabriel had heard all right.  Angel radio was a complete cluster these days.  The last time it had been this chaotic was when he’d tricked Michael and Biggus Dickus into believing there was a demon incursion about to launch on heaven led by rogue angels… because was inciting the Crusades as a test of faith (and act of boredom) really necessary?

“Let me guess.  Thing’s not going so well for you, bro?” A glimmer of a sardonic grin flashed across his casual mask, tone pushing the fringe of disdain as he arched a brow.  

“No.  But you already knew that, and yet your first inclination is to dally with this human.”  

Apparently Gabriel wasn't the only one unimpressed with the situation.

“I get we’re a little behind the times right now, but what year are you stuck in?  1905?” He taunted.  

“Watch your tone,” Cock McBlockins warned and Gabriel nearly rolled his eyes.  He wondered if his father had meant to make all three of his brothers into prideful pricks with their own mini god complexes or if they had just naturally become those without anyone to challenge their authority.      

“Or what, you’ll shiv me too?” He demanded.  It wasn’t like he was bitter or anything, being put in this position again.  

Fact check: he was plenty bitter and uber pissed.

If anyone asked, however, the official story was he just didn’t think Raphael had it in him to be such an ass about it.  

“The only reason she continues drawing breath is because I will it,” the monstrous manpole informed him.  The older archangel’s wings flared slightly in warning, his presence pushing against Gabriel’s as it wrestled for dominance within the room.  The youngest pushed back, his own pride unwilling to back down so easily.  To do so would be to show weakness, and his weakness had put you in enough danger already today.  

Tips of fingers touched against his lower back, acting as pinpoints of pressure and shifting his focus back to you.  If he had to guess, instinct spurred your touch, and perhaps the need for reassurance.  There’s no way you could have perceived the pissing contest currently happening, but enough of something skittered across your radar to tip you off to the danger.

Or perhaps you were telling him to quit dicking around already and figure out an escape plan.

“What do you want?” Gabriel asked, backing down.  The degenerate disco stick eyed him as if it were a trick a moment before that dark, baleful gaze slipped over his shoulder and landed on you.  

“What is she to you?” Dickus Maximus demanded.

“I mean I was trying to have a bit of fun but somebody crashed that party,” he gave a dramatic look skyward as if asking if even his father could believe the nerve.  “But really, what are any of them to us in the long run?”

“An incessant nuisance,” the dickasaurus rex said flatly.

“I was thinking more like a beautiful distraction,” Gabriel replied smoothly though it felt like he had a mouth full of sand. “But just a distraction, nonetheless… no offense sweetheart.”  He turned, giving you a flashy-and completely false- apologetic smile for good measure.  

He didn’t mean it.  He might not be ready to admit you were more than a passing obsession, but on a visceral level he was hooked, his stomach suddenly a gymnastics Olympian as it somersaulted its way through a sudden bout of ire-tipped nerves.  

If the USS Douche Canoe ruined this for him, everybody’s ship was going down, starting with the dickhead in front of him and heading straight to the top, where all the bullshit started.  

“No offense, sweetheart, but I’m not looking to date a giant dick anytime soon,” sarcasm painted your words, streaking across lips in a smile you flashed that was just as insincere.  

Gabriel took it as a good sign you hadn’t missed a beat with your response.  Mostly because that was one less thing to worry about while he figured out how to get you out of there.  There’d be plenty of time for doubt later if he survived.  In fact, it was one of his favorite pastimes.

Fact check: it was nobody’s favorite pastime.

“Well, aren’t we just two peas in a pod,” he drawled, brows raising as he dropped his hands to his hips.  “Humans, I tell you.  Just when you think you’re the one using them, they’re actually using you.”

“I’ve asked myself many times what would I do should you choose deceit over honest discourse,” The dick with a dictionary began, his gaze drifting back to Gabriel’s.  “I think I have my answer.”  

The look in his eyes remained neutral, pushing beyond the fringes of weary into outright exhaustion, but it was that telltale half lift of lips, smirking smugly, that gave away the game plan.  Unfortunately, that plan looked to be you.  

With a snap, you disappeared from out of the side of Gabriel’s vision only to reappear in front of the increasingly annoying third wheel to the party.  The contrast of the dark fingers wrapped around your pale throat was startling.  Or, it could just be the fact his brother was definitely gripping that part of you quite snugly in warning.

“What weaknesses lay beneath, I wonder…” the wondrous one-eyed yogurt slinger mused, thumb dragging slowly across the surface of your throat.  The movement was callous, insinuating no more than the danger you were in.  Defiance darkened your eyes, your lips pulling back in silent snarl as if he’d touched you in a far different manner and it caught Gabriel off guard.

He looked more closely, peeling back the layers of atoms and energy until gossamer strands of grace glistened ethereal in the dim lighting.  You were surrounded by it, wisps of it ghosting over your upper body as if seeking some sort of entrance.  Anger crackled hot beneath his skin, causing his energy to spark slightly between the tips of his fingers.  

How dare Raphael touch you that way.

He had no right to touch you with his grace.  He had no business inside your mind, though by how he was concentrating on the area between your shoulders and waist he was after something much more integral.  

Why he’d want a peek at your soul was beyond Gabriel, but it was a whole lot of nothing good for you.  

“Stop,” He warned, clenching down hard and doing his best to reign in his temper.  He was aware that this might not be anything other than a test (which he was clearly failing).  If his brother was prodding for sore spots, boy had he found one, especially when Gabriel watched as the older archangel pushed his energy beneath your skin in a wholly ungentle way.

There was no stopping his fury as your features grew taut with pain, your torment pushing out your throat in a sudden cry as light emanated out from where the grace had entered. The ground beneath his feet began to tremble, tables and chairs beginning to clatter as they bounced around, skittering slowly across the floor.  

“I said stop,” he repeated, the rumble growing louder as the entire building began to sway.  Windows shattered around the room and Raphael was lucky he didn’t find himself on the receiving end of an incredibly angry smite.  His brother exhaled a long, heavy sigh through his nose, withdrawing all his energy in a single instant and letting you drop to the floor.  

“Who is she to you?”  Disappointment wove through the gigantic pork sword’s words and Gabriel held back a snort.  Like the asshat had any right to ask anything about you anymore.  

“None of your business,” Gabriel hissed.

It was the wrong answer.  

Apparently a good old fashioned ass kicking was next on the list, your body catching some serious air before it came slamming down on the top of the tables.  Wood snapped beneath the force and you continued to roll across the floor a few feet from the impact.  

Gabriel reached out with his grace, searching for the familiar, chaotic buzz that was often your mind.  It was a much dimmer, snarling mass of tangled thoughts at the moment.  Stay down he told you, hoping you were conscious enough to hear him.  

You were and, as usual, you were intent on doing just the opposite of what you should be.  You pushed yourself up, eyes flashing with determination as you appraised the situation.  Keep him occupied you prayed, silently pulling yourself to your feet before slowly edging your way toward the back exit.  

Good.  Maybe you could sneak out while he and his brother got down to business.

“Would you like to gamble on what strike three means for her?”

“All right, all right,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender.  “No need to pull a Lucifer and break everyone else’s toys when you don’t get your way.  Besides, we all know what happens when you start throwing temper tantrums with the Winchesters around.  Well, Michael does, anyway.”

He smiled widely, enjoying the way his remarks were beginning to get under Coitis Interruptis’ skin.

“But if you simply must know… she was the only one that gave two shits about me when everyone was trying to make me choose sides.  It wasn’t about tradition or the greater good.  It was about me.  She believed in me to make the right decision because I was good enough,” he began, past pushing against present as a familiar slow burning anger flared back to life.  

“So no.  She’s not a distraction.  She’s a friend.  A good one, and she’s a good person who doesn’t deserve to be caught up in our bullshit again.  So I’m asking you, as your brother, to leave her out of this.”

Three things became apparent as Gabriel stopped his rambling.  

First, this was probably the most genuine interaction he’d had with cocksmiter number three since his father had left.

Second, because it was sincere, it didn’t even register on his brother’s bullshit detector which, in turn, sent it flying off the charts by the look he received.  

Third, and most important, you had stopped.  You were now just standing.  In the middle of the room.  Staring.  Mouth parted slightly when really you needed to be moving - why the hell weren’t you still moving?

Gold snapped up to your gaze, flicking toward the door insistently.  Keep going he urged when you simply looked conflicted.  You hesitated another moment before continuing on.

Humans.

“I mean I know it’s a novel idea, but why don’t we try keeping the crazefest in the family, just this once?”  He continued, aware of his brother’s unwavering stare.  He was also aware of how close you were to the back door.  Your hand reached for the handle, movements silent as you gave a push… only for nothing to happen.  

Someone clearly had some control issues to work on.  

“I will never understand your loyalty to these creatures,” the disdain dripping from the colossal cockmuffin’s words was palpable.  “They are weak and flawed.”

“What did you say?” Gabriel demanded, eyes narrowing.  Lucifer had said those very words… how had his brother known?

“Despite our differences, Gabriel, I came here to talk,” the humongous spawn hammer implored.  “The rebel has gathered a surprising amount of support, though it is only a matter of time before he is defeated.”

“Well, sounds like you have it all figured out.  Best of luck to you,” he said, taking a few steps back toward the front entrance.  If he wasn't going to let you go, Gabriel could at least try and move the party.  Thunder echoed overhead and the room suddenly leapt to life with a gathering energy just before a bolt of lightning pierced the ceiling.  It struck right behind Gabriel’s back, stopping him in his tracks and scorching the floor.  

Apparently he wasn't the only one with a penchant for theatrics.  

“You’re either with me or against me.”  

Gabriel had been wrong.  His brother wasn't a giant dick.  He was a whole bag of them.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Gabriel jeered, taking a step forward.  “So, how do you want to do this?  Should I just whip mine out?  Do we compare sizes first?”  

A familiar smell drifted under his nose, carrying hints of metal and life in its purest form.  He glanced up to find you with your back against the door, hand obscured behind you and he had a fairly good idea what you were doing.  The problem was if he did, then so did the massive heat-seeking moisture missile.

If you both lived through this, he and you were going to have a long, snarky chat about the limitations of humans, and the nearly limitless power of archangels and why the former didn't need to worry about saving the latter.  

“Blood carries a very distinct smell,” Skippy McSexkiller announced, turning your way, dark eyes blazing bright against the insolence you were hastily painting across the door.  “Yours especially.”  

“It’s a wonder you’re not a hit with the ladies,” Gabriel taunted, trying to draw his attention.  It didn’t work.  “Hey, Raphie, can I call you Raphie?” That did the trick; the archangel paused momentarily, giving him a baleful look.  

“I tire of your games, brother, and theirs.”  Boy, did his brother look tired.  Not just the soul weary I’ve-been-alive-since-the-dawn-of-time exhaustion that timeless beings tended to get from time to time.  This was a whole other ballgame.  

Gabriel, tell me how to do this without hurting you.  

Apprehension filled your prayer as it floated to the forefront of his consciousness, and from the corner of his eyes he could see you were almost done.  He found it awfully touching you didn’t want to blast his hide when he knew that if your brothers were there, he’d have been rocketed halfway to Texas by now.  

Unfortunately, Scrote-totes MaGoo continued to designate the hotel as a no fly zone, leaving you both without a lot of options.

At least it would only hurt for a moment.  

Fact check: it was only for a moment, but it also was a whole lot of hurt.

Catch you on the flip side, sweetheart.

“Human idioms,” the gigantic tube steak sighed and the easygoing mask Gabriel kept in place began to slip.  “I’ll never understand your preference for them.  Or why you’d think me fool enough to fall for your little trap.”

Panic sparked in Gabriel’s chest, skating across the thickening tension in the air before slamming into your system.  You frantically finished the last symbol on the ward before bringing your hand down in the center.  He braced himself, only the blast never came.  He looked over to see the sigil had vanished.  

Oh sweet bearded man with bad teeth but good religious messages.  This was happening.  His brother was looking at you like he was going to split every atom in your body no matter what his younger brother wanted and last Gabriel checked, that was not on his agenda.  

“Hey douchebag,” he called out, pulling his blade from out of his jacket.  “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The other archangel didn’t even bat an eye.  He didn’t even give his younger sibling a courtesy snap.  The only reason Gabriel felt the smite coming was because the air always tasted like it was burning the moment before it hit.  

A bright, blinding light poured down through the ceiling.  Every hair stood on edge, stretching upward toward the concentration of energy before everything suddenly released and the blast had his brains pushing down through his nostrils.  

Fact check: Gabriel’s brain was not actually being forced out his nose, but it certainly felt like it.

The extreme downward pressure, however, was enough to immobilize his mind and force him down to his knees.

Apparently his brother was done dicking around.  

“Was the pain you suffered earlier not tangible enough?” Raphael’s voice managed to push through the mental haze.  “Perhaps you need a reminder of your own past.”  

Gabriel’s eyes fluttered open, details around him fuzzy as he struggled to bring the world back into focus.  

Your pain made for a great motivator.  

He heard your cry go up and the visceral response that tore through him was enough to help him gather his wits.  Your anguish was tangible even from across the room, tiny cuts and enlarged gashes singing in a discord of physical suffering that clashed with the previous chorus that rang from the very essence in your soul crying out.

He looked over to see you on your knees, red painting your torment in grisly splashes through your clothing.  There were streaks across your legs, your right thigh practically saturated.  It was harder to tell what was behind your sweater, but by the sheer smell of iron drifting across the room, there was a fair amount that had yet to show through.  You cradled your left arm closer to your body, droplets trickling out from beneath the cuff of your coat, sliding steadily off tips of fingers with a steady pat, pat, pat.   

“Is that why you brought me here?” Gabriel demanded, trying get the giant phallus turned back in his direction.  “Because you want to remind me what happens if I choose the right side?���

Pat, pat, pat.  

“There’s a certain symmetry.  Beginning where you ended.  Ending where you began,  should it come to that.”

Pat, pat, pat.

He should have seen it sooner.  After helping lock Auntie Amara away, the mammoth meat constrictor had been all about balance, about the universe having some sort of grand plan and synergy to it.  After their father left, however, things began to become a little less about cosmic harmony and a little more obsessive-compulsive.  

Pat, pat, pat.

“From where I’m standing?  More like a certain douchiness,” he turned, spitting out a mouthful of red from the blood that trickled down the back of his throat.  

“Enough!”  Raphael roared.  “I will not stand here and listen to your drivel while our home is under attack.”

Pat, pat, pat.  

Your heart began to slow, the change in pace nearly imperceptible at first.  For every beat you lost, his seemed to pick it up.  You were bleeding out and while you had a little time, you were going to be drier than a fruitcake in February if he couldn’t get to you soon.  

Good thing he had a trick or two up his sleeve.  

“Heaven is burning, brother.  Michael is locked away no different than Lucifer.  Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“It might if that was what this was really about, but we both know that’s not the case,” Gabriel said, slowly pulling himself to his feet.  

“Paradise was within our grasp... until you betrayed us to the Winchesters and told them how to put Lucifer back.”  

Fact check: the only betrayal being served was by Lucifer, who couldn’t help but turn everything into an ice cold fuckery of a dish.  

“Then kill me,” he said, tossing his blade aside.  Rather, his shadow twin did.  He wasn’t that stupid… and you were beginning to look awfully pale.  He appeared in front of you, crouching down until he was eye level with you.  You hadn’t moved.  He wasn’t sure you were able to by the number of wounds you had.  

“I’d rather have you by my side,” his brother continued from across the room.  He was vaguely aware his double had given one of the many pre-selected responses from his repertoire.  Besides the fact it made things easier, he’d rather be focusing on you anyway.  His hands tended to get a little less smitey when he did.    

He had to be careful, though.  If he released too much energy, Frodo Douchbaggins would be on him like nazgul on the one ring.  He idly wondered if that made him Aragorn in this situation.  Probably Eowyn.  She did have the most fabulous hair out of all of them.  

Fact check: Gabriel did have pretty fabulous hair.  

Your eyes met his with something too shrouded for him to read.  The pain was too prevalent and he wondered how much you were even able to think beyond it.  Your lips parted as if to speak, and he held a finger up for you to be quiet before his gaze dropped down to the pool of blood on the floor.  

This mess was as much his fault as the titanic flesh rod’s, and when this was all said and done,

Gabriel was going to go full Lorena Bobbitt and remove him from existence.

“This is your chance, Gabriel, to make up for your past indiscretions…”

The only thing he needed to make amends for was sitting right in front of him.  The longer things dragged out, however, the less likely he’d get the chance.  

Fact check:  the chances one of you were getting fucked tonight were looking pretty good.  

Bonus fact check: it wouldn’t nearly be as fun as either of you had planned.

Fingers drifted along the swollen contour of your cheek, tenderly stroking away the puffiness as he released his energy. He didn’t need to physically touch you in order to heal, but what did he have to lose anymore?  

Your gaze drifted sideways, widening slightly in surprise and doubt slipped in through the cracks in his armor.  Perhaps he’d been mistaken.  Perhaps things were more one sided than he realized.  Perhaps you had been the one with too much drink tonight.  

He tried to focus on his brother droning on in the background, clamping down on his rising disappointment.  Wank, wank, atonement.  Wank, wank, duty.  It was the same hackneyed setup where humanity became the punchline.  

His family really needed to add some new jokes to their lineup.

You released a slow breath and his attention shifted back to you as you tried to move.  The hand you raised was shaky, slowed by the damage he was still trying to undo.  It was obvious you were struggling to even raise it this far, but it was far enough.  Tips of fingers slipped beneath his coat, tentatively tracing along the partially undone line of buttons at the top of his shirt before settling your palm against his chest.  

Your eyes settled in the same spot, narrowing intently.  He’d seen you enough times to know it was the look you wore when ferreting out an answer in the middle of a clusterfuck of information.  What you were seeking and what you found, were simply beyond him in that moment.  You did find something, however, and it wasn’t the slow growing heaviness of finality Gabriel overtaking over him.  

Despite the snarling mass of emotions he felt within you, your eyes began to brighten, shaking off some of their former weight.  The intensity made him take a closer look.  A slow burning ire had sparked somewhere along the way, determination causing the edges of your gaze to grow hard, keeping the flames contained.  Your anger wasn’t surprising, but the fear that seemed to be fueling it was.  

He wanted to reassure you that things would be fine, but what would be the point of lying?  Besides, you’d just find something to break on him if he did.  Though he imagined with the way things were going there might not be anything left to break by the end of the night.

Your brows drew together suddenly, a frown tugging at your lips.  For a moment he thought Raphael might have caught on, but he could hear the prick yammering on while his shadow tossed well placed barbs and used misdirection to keep the conversation going.

Your eyes also never left Gabe’s, making the source of your displeasure rather clear.  Or rather unclear, considering he hadn’t a clue what he could have done considering he hadn’t had the chance to open his mouth yet.  

Then again, he had dragged you into this mess.  Perhaps you were finally getting on the same page as the rest of the world in realizing what a giant fuck up he was.

Your hand clenched around his shirt and while he was surprised at how quickly your strength had returned, he was completely thrown for a loop when you yanked him forward, lips demanding as they moved over his.  Passion won out over resignation as energy spiked down from your mouth straight into his chest, sparking outward back into your hand and continuing the loop.  

Apparently, you were of the mind set that neither one of you had died yet.  

You kept things brief because, unlike previous assumptions, you understood the importance of not dallying.  When he looked at you again, the fear had melted away to promise - so much promise for so many, many things burned wickedly in your gaze.  

If that wasn’t motivation to survive this disaster of a night, then he deserved to be put out of his misery.  

Fact check: he most certainly was not dead already from the waist down.

Show time he decided, giving you a reassuring smirk before taking the place of his double once again.  Not that he had a clue what to do still, but he did have a little hope, thanks to you.  

“Let’s stop beating around the bush, hmmm?” Gabriel suggested.  “I know what you’re really up to.  This isn’t about heaven.  This isn’t about family or atonement.  This is about you just wanting it to be done.  No matter the cost.”

“Yes,” his enormous deep-V-diver of a brother admitted.  “I am tired, brother.  So very tired and I know that you are, too.  This is our chance to go back to our real home.  If my cold heart still yearns for it, I know yours must as well.”

Ancient sentiments almost forgotten stirred deep beneath the surface and Gabriel’s confidence slipped.  If how he looked on the surface mirrored what was going on internally, he would have been running around the room, flailing wildly as he attempted to outrun an imaginary wildfire.  

These were not things he wanted to feel again.  Not tonight.  Not with Raphael.  Not ever.  

Fact check: he would rather douse himself with holy fire and do the hellfire rumba than go down that road again.

Keep him distracted.  

Your prayer rang out as a lifeline, drawing him back from uncertain waters before he became lost in the riptide.  He didn’t dare check to see what you were up to with how intently his brother’s stare was fixed upon him.

“Humans have a word for that you know,” he said, pity unknowingly softening his demeanor.  

The Herculean skin flute gave a heavy sigh, weariness returning and casting shadows on his face far darker than before.  “I am aware of it, and I suppose you’re right.  We cannot go back.  But we can still end this miserable existence for everyone.”  

Every time it seemed like they were about to have a moment, twizzletits had to go and open that big mouth of his.

Gabriel sincerely hoped this wasn’t how everyone felt about him.

Fact check: it kind of was.

I’m going to tell you the same thing I told that big bro of ours,” Gabriel announced.  “I love you, Raphael, you are my brother, but you are a great big bag of dicks.”  He gave a dramatic pause, watching as fury erupted from his brother’s gaze.  

“Actually, I lied.  You’re an even bigger one for trivializing all the sacrifices made to stop this madness, mine included, by starting it all over again.  What is it with all of you throwing a tantrum if you don’t get your way? For father’s sake, grow a pair! Sac up and move on! The world isn’t as terrible if you’d give it a chance to show you its beauty.”

“This world is no longer beautiful.  It is full of ugliness, disappointment, flawed intentions, but most of all, it is filled with suffering.  If you love them so much, would you not want their pain to end?”

Gabriel almost winced.  The more he listened, the less he was certain his brother was, in fact, a bag of dicks.  If anything, it sounded like the archangel needed to go out, drink a liquor store, get laid, then go on a world tour and take in the sights.  He knew serving under Michael was no picnic, but he never imagined it would actually suck the soul out of someone.    

“To live is to suffer,” Gabriel conceded, “But it’s also so much more than that.  Yes, they’re flawed.  They can be vicious and bloodthirsty, but how is that any different than us?  Why can’t any of you see how much good is also in them?  How much they try and more importantly forgive?”

Because forgiveness was not a staple at any of their Sunday dinners.

“I am tired of this life,” Raphael repeated, the lines suddenly evident across his vessel’s face.  “And so very tired of all these games.  I know where your heart truly lies.”

The part of Gabriel in question gave a stutter, past overlaying present in a terrifying way.  It wasn’t so much the echo of Lucifer’s words that disturbed him so much as the fact that you were there, right where he’d been, body crouched low as you slowly crept in for the kill.  

“I’m sorry.”  The older archangel meant it.  It didn’t make him any less of a fuck stick for what he was about to do.  

Fact check: Raphael was definitely a big ol’ bag of dicks.

Desperation forced Gabriel’s hand and he leapt forward.  Once again, his brother anticipated the move, deftly sidestepping the blade before grabbing him by the arm and throwing him into you.  You nearly filleted him by mistake, your weapon catching him across his shoulder as you scrambled to get it out of the way.  

So much for plan B.  

Gabriel felt the telltale gathering of energy over his head and he had just enough time to throw you back before heaven’s energy came barreling down upon him.  It didn't matter how old he got, he would never get used to the feeling of a smite.  Though that might have been his brother’s goal by how many were sent down upon him.  Wave after wave of energy crashed over him and he was certain this was it… until it suddenly wasn’t.    

By the time the world stopped spinning (and ringing… and twisting… and shouting…) Gabriel looked up to see his brother booting you across the floor like a soccer ball.  

“What will it take for you to realize how weak and unworthy they are?”  Raphael demanded, sending another burst down.  Something popped inside his skull, though it was likely just his brain falling in on itself.  There seemed to be enough of something leaking out his nose and down the back of his throat again.

There was another loud pop followed by more ringing in his ears, and for a minute he assumed he really had taken one too many smites to the head for his vessel to hold.  When the sound continued, he realized the noise wasn’t coming from inside him, but from across the room.  You had your gun drawn and trained on his brother as more shots peppered the silence, making the archangel’s vessel shake slightly with each bullet that pierced it.  

He’d said it before and he’d say it again: you had the most abysmal sense of self-preservation, even for a Winchester.  

Fact check: the above statement was completely true.  Though scrambled as Gabriel’s mind was, he had the wherewithal to realize what you were doing was solely to draw fire away from him.

He shook his head, pity pushing through the lingering pain.  How could his brother bear witness to this and still not be swayed?  

“From where I’m standing?  They’re more worthy than we are,” he said, smiling slightly as his eyes met yours. No one else was willing to step this far onto the wrong side of sane for him.  Not his family.  Not yours.  It only reaffirmed his stance that you all deserved better than what his father had originally planned.   

“She has ruined you,” Dickbag McFlaccidcock declared, tone insinuating if anyone were to be pitied, it should be Gabriel.  Unfortunately, there was a reason for that.  

Gabe watched as your hand began to shake, your eyes widening at the realization you were no longer in control of your weapon.  Slowly, you began to turn it on yourself, your other hand coming up to try and alter its course without much luck.  

He didn’t even get the chance to try and attack his brother before another blinding round of pain echoed through his skull.  

“You will watch this,” the patron saint of douchbaggery insisted.  “Because your foolishness is the reason she must die.”

A crushing weight bore down upon his shoulders, pinning him in place.  Desperation clawed viscerally through his stomach, his wings shooting out to full length as he tried to break free from his brother’s grasp.  The uber smiting he’d received, however, had stripped him of most of his strength.  He was essentially leashed and there was nothing worse than feeling caged and helpless.

Except maybe watching the one good thing in his life be destroyed because of him.  

“You want me to stand with you - fine.  I’ll be your right hand man.  The heavens will sing of our unstoppable duo - Gabriel and Raphael - or Raphael and Gabriel, whatever you prefer,” he begged, willing to say whatever his brother needed to hear if it meant buying you more time.  He could worry about the finer points of how to dig himself out later.    

“This is for your own good,” Raphael insisted.

It seemed his brother had half a brain after all, though his heart was clearly still AWOL.  

No no no no no.  Think, Gabriel, think, think, think...

Fuck, fuck, god damn, fucking fuck - think, y/n, think, think, think…

Your thoughts collided, bursting through the increasingly tense silence.  Your mounting panic pushed through his battered mind, allowing him to unintentionally pick up on what was flying through yours.  As usual, you were the only two in the room even remotely on the same page.

Fact check: that page was titled Now’s a Good Time to Panic.

The gun reached its destination against your temple, desperation hitting its peak as both your mantras came to a deafening halt.  

“It’s not your fault, Gabe,” you told him, doing your best to hide your fear and failing miserably at it.  

He nearly broke in that moment.  Here you were, about to die because of him, and your final thought was to pardon him.  It barely made a dent in his brother’s armor, and that’s when he realized just how lost the archangel had become.

Gabriel renewed his efforts, straining against his ethereal bonds.  He clenched down on his jaw, so hard he might have heard a few of his teeth crack.  It was the only way to keep his desperation from spilling out over his lips.  The last thing you needed to see was him reduced to a babbling mess.  

No, no, no, no, please, father, no…

“It’s ok,” you told him.

Fact check: things were so far from ok that Gabriel was certain no one would be leaving this room alive if you died.  

You closed your eyes, but he had no choice but to watch.  His heart hit a fever pitch, mirroring his own struggles to escape as it hammered away against his chest.  There was nothing he could do and he dropped to his knees, everything shattering as reality bore down upon him.  

He wasn’t strong enough.  He couldn’t save you.  You were going to die and it was all his fault.  

“I’m sorry,” his voice wavered, thick with emotion.  

Gabriel’s world came to a screeching halt as his brother forced you to pull the trigger.  

Next Chapter>>

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Full Circle:   @melodyhiddleston @gabe-crowley-trash

[hiraeth-doux]

Untouchable (2/8) 

Summary: A fresh-out-of-the-NAVY widower Owen Grady knows everything about the war. His own child? Not so much. He settles in his home town with his 5-year-old daughter in hopes of piecing their shattered lives back together. And then they meet Claire Dearing...

Okay so.... First of all, I’d like to thank everyone who checked out the first part! Posting it was rather nerve wracking, to say the least, and your kind words meant the world to me. I’m doing my best to make this story work - so, thank you! You’re the best! 

ETA: I think it stays in the tags even with the text added below now. Hopefully tumblr fixed its issues. Sorry for the inconvenience :)

Have fun, and let me know what you think!

AO3 | Fanfiction.net 

“Okay, man, what’s with the face?” Barry asked Owen a week later, giving him a curious look from under the car next to the one Owen was working on.

A dark-skinned man with smiling eyes, he served in the Air Force in Quebec several years ago. As fate would have it, he met a girl from the Midwest and moved to Wisconsin when his army contract came to an end. The relationship died eventually, but by then, Barry had managed to grow roots here, saying that the winters were just as bad in Madison as they were in Montreal, and the rest didn’t really matter. He wasn’t planning on going back to the Air Force, having had enough of that life, and this place was as good as any.

Sometime later, he opened an auto repair shop, choosing to be his own boss, but even though he had guys like Owen to take care of everything, he never shied away from getting his hands dirty because it made him feel useful. Besides, being stuck in the office all day, dealing with the paper work was driving him insane.

Before long, he and Owen bonded over their military past, their love for gingerbread cookies, and classic rock. It was an effortless friendship that involved grabbing a beer or two after work, running together now and then, or watching ball games while talking about nothing in particular. Harper adored him, fascinated by his accent, an endless array of jokes he had in store, and, if Owen was completely honest with himself, the way their small world wasn’t a shrine of grief when Barry was around, probably because he didn’t tiptoe around them like they were breakable.

“What’s wrong with it?” Owen reached automatically for his cheek. “Is there something on it?” They were permanently covered in grease, soot, and motor oil that seemed to have seeped into their skin, which apparently came with the territory – you could not possibly look clean and polished so long as you were buried under one hood or another for 8 hours every day.

“No, you look… what’s the word for it? Loopy.”

Owen snorted. “Loopy? Who says loopy?”

Barry flashed a smile at him. “Is this about a girl? Come on, spill!”

Owen picked up a wrench and returned to looking for loose fasteners he needed to tighten before his job here was done, his gaze skimming over the underbelly of a ’99 Chevrolet Malibu, following the curves and loops of tubes and hoses snaking before his eyes.

The shop was filled with a hollow sound of muffled voices, occasional clanking of metal on metal, and Bruce Springsteen singing on the radio, his voice fading in and out of the static in the concrete walls. Late afternoon sun was spilling through the windows tucked high near the ceiling, and the dust was dancing and swirling in the rays of light, not particularly bothered by the gravity, from the looks of it.

“As a matter of fact, it is,” Owen admitted after a moment or two, amused.

“That’s my man!” Barry let out a hearty laugh. “So, who’s she? What’s her name? Give me the deets.”

Owen chuckled. “Her name is Harper.”

“Dude, that’s your daughter’s name. That’s sick.”

“It is about my daughter, you nutcase.”

Barry huffed. “Okay, less fun, but I’m listening.”

Owen pulled his toolbox closer and rummaged through it, searching for a socket wrench. “I signed her up for some classes at that place where I do the VA work.  And, man, she’s actually talking, you know? Not just to me or Mrs. Carmichael, but to, like, that teacher of hers, and a bunch of kids who go there, too. I haven’t seen her do that since--” He cut off, his face scrunched in effort as he turned the wrench a few times.  

Since they stopped being a real family and turned into a Picasso painting of one, disproportionate and barely resembling the actual thing. All the required components were there, but they were not fitting the way they used to, or the way they should.

Instead of doing morning drills somewhere in Japan or the Middle East, he was working at Barry’s shop five and a half days a week. It wasn’t that bad a deal, though – in fact, Owen even liked it. There were rules to how engines worked, and he knew how to apply them to those that didn’t. For someone with a degree in Engineering and some experience with military jets, this kind of job was a piece of cake. He could do it in his sleep.

The VA wasn’t a planned gig, but one day several months ago, his current manager brought his old Ford to the shop for an annual check-up. They got to talking. One thing led to another, until Owen somehow found himself with a three-nights-a-week contract and his name on the goddamn poster, talking to the people who saw the world the same way he did. Much to his surprise, it sucked him right in. It was a relief to be back in his element again, except without sleeping in a tent and generally having a better quality of life, which made him feel more in balance somehow. Plus, he was allowed to use a gym and a pool whenever he wanted.

All in all, he had nothing to complain about. It just wasn’t what he’d ever imagined his life to be.

Barry stayed quiet for a long moment. “And that is why you look like you’ve won a lottery?”

“Sure feels like it.” Owen tugged at one of the gas hoses to check if it was attached properly, his gaze accidentally slipping to his watch. “Oh, shit, we’re gonna be late.” He wheeled himself quickly from under the car and grabbed an oil-stained rag that was resting on the hood to wipe the worst of grime from his skin. “She’s gonna kill me.”

Barry emerged from under a big blue SUV, his face streaked with the motor oil. “Harper? She’s two feet tall, man.”

“Three,” Owen muttered, tossing the rag into his toolbox and kicking it closed. “And no. Her teacher… ah, instructor. Whatever. She’d got this thing about tardiness.” He straightened up and started to reach for his hair to smooth it down, but reconsidered, desperately needing to wash his hands properly first, or better yet – take a shower.

“An old lady with principles, huh?” Barry smirked.

Owen offered him a crooked smile. “She’s got principles alright.”

There was no point in going any further here.

In the past few months, Barry joked a couple of times about getting Owen ‘back in the game’, but he quickly dropped the subject – either due to his manners, or because of the how Owen’s face contorted every time he brought it up. He didn’t know – couldn’t know – what it was like to be with someone for 14 years, feeling like he won a jackpot, and then watch them die. Watch them fade away day by day until there was nothing left but a shell of a person he used to know. All their memories, the good days and the bad ones, all the laughs and tears and longing – all gone like they were never there.

Owen asked Harper once what her favourite memory of her mother was, and she told him it was their tea parties. Gathering her dolls and stuffed toys around a small table in her room and pretending the two of them were princesses.

He wished sometimes it was all he could remember, too. Not the hospitals and Jenny’s pallid skin and her face scrunched with pain, or watching her sleep and wondering if she was going to wake up again, but their trips to the beach, and that time they took Harper to Disneyland for her 4th birthday. All the small moments bottled up for safekeeping.

This was not something one could get over in a blink of an eye and move on like nothing happened. Not that he wanted to, either. Keeping the memory of Jenny alive almost made him feel like she was still there, and the best way to do it was to hold on as tight as he could before it faded away. It frightened him. No, scratch that – it terrified him out of his mind. At this point, memories were all he had, and if they were gone – who would he even be in the end? There was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach, telling him that it would happen regardless, whether he wanted to or not, but Owen pushed that small voice away and pretended he could cheat his way out of forgetting.

Owen checked the time again and grabbed his jacket. “If Ned calls, tell him I’ll be finished by tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

“You got it.” A screwdriver clenched between his teeth, Barry slid back under the car. “Tell Harper I said hi.”

---

“I’m just saying it’s not fair,” Karen said, stirring her coffee vigorously. “Why do I get to do all the parenting and he still gets to spend half of the holidays with them?”

Recently divorced from her husband of nearly 20 years, she was trying to navigate the newly single-mom life with the grace and elegance of a bull in a china shop. All the simple things that neither she, nor Scott had to ever think about while they were living under the same roof suddenly turned into impossible problems. And the two boys caught in the crossfire didn’t find it enjoyable in the least.

“I thought this is what your divorce agreement was supposed to be for,” Claire reminded her sister, tearing a piece off her croissant and stuffing it into her mouth.

Karen glared at her. “I did not think it through, obviously.”

The coffee shop located stark in the middle between Karen’s office and Masrani Design where Claire was making the magic happen when she wasn’t teaching ice-skating tricks to preschoolers was busy at lunchtime, smelling heavenly of fresh bread, sweet pastries, and bitter, strong coffee. It was warm, too, which was her one and only condition in response to her sister’s invitation to have a quick bite together in a desperate need to vent about Scott’s demand to have their sons over for Easter after just celebrating New Year with them, which left Karen outraged. Understandably.

“I mean, he barely ever bothered to spend any time with them when we were living together, and now he’s suddenly a father of the year?” Karen huffed. “And it’s not like I can say no. We can discuss it, but he has the right…” She pursed her lips together and let out a frustrated huff.

“Come on, you know Scott loves them,” Claire told her.

Karen scowled at her. “Whose side are you on?”

“Well, can you do anything about it? Change the arrangement?”

“I could put a hit on him, maybe,” Karen grumbled under her breath.

“Thought so,” Claire nodded. “But! You can do something about that hideous couch of yours.”

“Don’t even start!”

“Honestly, Karen! I’m making other people’s houses look stylish, but I can’t help my only sister with a serious case of a very, very bad taste?”

“I swear to god, Claire--” She started with a warning.

And then someone shrieked, “Claire!” making a few heads turn. And the next moment, a small body slammed into her with enough force to nearly knock her chair over to the floor.

Claire’s arms closed instinctively around all forty-five pounds of pure excitement that was Harper Grady, purple backpack slung over her shoulders and heavy curls falling down her back.

“Harper!”

They all looked up to the sound of Owen’s voice booming over the lunchtime crowd to see him navigate his way between the tables with a takeout cup and a paper bag in his hand. He slowed down, the concerned lines creasing his face smoothing out when he saw Harper hanging from Claire’s neck.

“Oh, hey,” he said softer, his eyes darting quickly between Claire and Karen before settling on his daughter. “No running off, remember?”

The girl stepped back immediately, looking sheepish, but not particularly guilty. “I found Claire,” she announced, making it sound like she’d just unearthed the biggest treasure known to the humankind.

“I can see that,” Owen confirmed, turning properly to her at last.

They came back.

Claire wasn’t sure they would, even despite the fact that Owen Grady was working roughly a hundred feet away from her several nights a week. But they did, fifteen minutes before the next class, Harper basically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she watched Claire finish her warm-up over the barrier that was almost too tall for her to see over it. Pulled up on her toes, her hands gripping the railing, she followed each of Claire’s fluid moves, her expression utterly transfixed.

She said something to Owen – Claire couldn’t hear what it was from this far away and with the music playing – and he smiled and picked her up in his arms to help her see better.

Claire lurched into a wide backwards crossover, using it as a set-up for a flip jump and wrapping up her routine with a spin, delighted by the rush of air around her and the blur of the world that only felt real to her when it was slightly out of focus.

Later, Harper told her that she’d only seen things like that on TV.

Claire leaned closer to her, dropping her voice as if she was telling her a secret. “I’ve learned it from TV.”

“Really?” The girl’s eyes were wide as saucers now.

“Mostly,” she admitted, barely able to suppress her laughter.

They became a permanent fixture from then on. Three times a week, like clockwork, Owen and Harper Grady would walk through the doors. Sometimes, Owen would stay and watch the practice, other times he would wave his goodbye to Harper and come back in an hour, usually with a Cinnabon for his daughter, and once even with a cup of coffee for Claire. A simple gesture that she found beyond endearing – for its sincerity, if nothing else.

They never talked again after that Saturday evening, though, when he popped in after the gym with a heap of apologies, and he never once came by while she was practicing on the days when there were no classes. Not that Claire expected him to.

Owen Grady was an interesting man, witty and quick with smart comebacks, fun to talk to and, generally, very pleasant. Not to mention the whole dimples thing going on and the shoulders so broad he could probably carry the whole world on them without breaking a sweat. And tall too, his eyes smiling down at her from his generous height of 6’2”. But, at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. He was her student’s father. And on top of that, he also kept a pointed distance, and she had long learned not to mistaken politeness for something else.  

“Hi,” Claire beamed at him to compensate for the five seconds of territorial fear his daughter had caused him. Across the table from her, Karen cleared her throat, and Claire finally remembered she was there. “Oh, Owen, this is my sister, Karen. Karen, this is Owen Grady, we… um, work together. And Harper here,” she tapped the girl on the nose with her index finger, “comes to my classes.”

They exchanged quick handshakes and a few pleasantries before Owen was back in a business mode. “Sorry to cut this short, but we really have to go,” he said. “Here’s your chocolate.” The cup made its way from his hand into Harper’s.

“Yeah, speaking of which,” Claire nodded. “We should probably go, too.”

She dropped a few bills on the table to cover their check and rose from her seat, and so did Karen, both of them reaching for their coats.

“Wow,” Owen whistled under his breath, giving Claire an amused once-over. “You can walk.”

“Pardon me?” Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“It’s just,” he coughed, “I never saw you without your skates before. Kinda thought they were growing out of your legs or something.”

“You too, huh?” Karen hummed and Harper giggled as Claire’s jaw dropped.

“The world is full of surprises,” she deadpanned.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “So I see. You,” Owen pointed his finger at his daughter, “door. Now.” His phone started to ring somewhere in his pocket. “Excuse me, I really need to—“ He nudged Harper to the exit with a quick wave of goodbye over his shoulder. “Nice meeting you.”  

“Likewise,” Karen called after him, and turned to her sister, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous interest. “Okay, what was that?”

Claire pulled on her coat, struggling with thick, uncooperative buttons all designer items seemed to be so fond of and mentally swearing off everything that didn’t come from Sears from then on. “I told you, we work together.” Together, in the same building – same difference.

“No, you don’t,” Karen followed her to the door. “I know everyone you work with, and they’re all gay.”

“Not Lowery,” Claire protested, stepping out into a bright, chilly afternoon.

“Don’t get me started on Lowery,” Karen rolled her eyes as the door shut closed behind them. “He’s bald. And he has dinosaur figurines strewn all over his desk. And what kind of name is Lowery, anyway?”

“Ouch! Petty much?”

“Would you go out with him?” Karen demanded.

“Well, no,” Claire admitted.

“My point exactly, so stop changing the subject. What’s this guy’s deal?” Her sister looked up and down the street, searching for Owen and Harper among the other passers-by.

Claire tightened her scarf around her neck, squinting in the sunlight and kicking herself mentally for forgetting her gloves in the office. “You saw a wedding ring and a kid, right?” She asked, hesitant to go into the dead wife story for the reason she couldn’t quite explain even to herself.

It was bad enough Karen was on her case about ‘fixing’ her love life for years now, but dragging innocent bystanders into it felt plain cruel. Besides, the details didn’t matter – one look at Owen Grady was enough to see that he was still deeply and unapologetically married. To a ghost, to the memories, to whatever kept him going. If there was one thing Claire could understand better than anyone, it was holding on to the past.

She buried her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat and gave Karen a pointed look. “Now, can we please talk about your ex-husband some more?”

---

The nights were still the worst, their loud silence filling Owen’s head with the thoughts that threated to crack him open and turn him inside out. Sometimes he wondered how his mind could contain them all without exploding. And then he wondered if it was ever going to go away, this feeling that he was surviving instead of living.

Owen pulled a bottle of beer out of the fridge and flicked the cap off, his eyes trained on the window and the darkness outside, at his own reflection that looked nothing like anyone he could recognize.

None of this was supposed to be happening.

He was supposed to still be on active duty for another fourteen months, not stuck in a place he fought so hard to get away from – not because it was bad, but because the rest of the world always seemed so big to him it felt like a shame not to be trying to see it all. His daughter was not supposed to have gone for three months without talking, scaring the living hell out of him and a few therapists. There was a moment when Owen was convinced he’d never hear her voice again until he heard her singing her toys to sleep one night, a full month before she spoke to him again. She was not supposed to be crying because she missed her mother while he felt helpless and useless, a joke of a father.

His wife wasn’t supposed to be dead, period.

Harper loved him. He knew she did. Ever since she was old enough to recognize him, she would crawl, and then waddle, and then run to the door whenever he’d come back home from another tour. She would climb into his arms. She would fall asleep on his chest with her chubby fist closed over his shirt in the middle of telling him a story. She would rush to him to get away from the injustices her ‘evil’ mother would push on her – like brushing her teeth or picking up her toys, and his heart would swell in his chest every time with more love he ever thought he was capable of feeling.

But that was easy. That he knew how to do. The wrath of Harper Marie Lynn Grady over the wrong brand of cereal or her refusal to leave the house unless she was wearing the right skirt was something else entirely.

The one thing that no one mentioned to him before he got sucked into this big black hole was that parenting was considered a team sport for a reason. Before, it felt almost effortless. Like he and Jenny could make no mistake. Sure, there were some bumps in the road; they had their issues, no one was perfect – and so on, and so forth. Owen tended to be a good cop to Jenny’s bad one, sneaking an extra cookie to his kid and closing his eyes on her small mischiefs. Granted, it would’ve been hard to be anything else, what with him being gone a good half of a year, but he’d always found consolation in knowing that there would be time for everything else, that he’d have the rest of his life to catch up.

Man, was he wrong about that!

Now, he felt like he was trying to swim in the middle of the ocean with one arm locked behind his back. He knew how to diffuse a bomb and use just about any kind of firearms there was, but hell if he had any idea how to make his own child eat her vegetables, or how to braid her hair, or how to be both parents at the same time. He probably felt just as trapped as Harper who had no one else to turn to whenever Owen hit a brick wall.

They were both tired, and he couldn’t help but wonder sometimes if he was even cut out for this, for this whole parenting thing that he clearly wasn’t excelling at. And if he wasn’t – what was he supposed to do?

And then there was Claire Dearing.

It wasn’t anything personal. He knew little about her and, frankly, didn’t care much about the rest, but there was something almost meditative about her effortless routines that tended to soothe the storms raging in his mind. The way she was flying, weightless, barely touching the pale, cold surface beneath the sharp blades of her ice-skates…

Maybe he also needed help, Owen thought with dismay. Maybe he was losing it. Maybe this was the long overdue PTSD everyone at the meetings was talking about and that he foolishly believed he managed to avoid. His mother had suggested a few times that he maybe he should talk to someone, get another opinion, a different perspective. Nothing permanent, she stressed. Just something to help him get through the worst of it.

At the time, her offer seemed almost laughable – the worst of it? As opposed to what?

But what if she wasn’t that far off?

“Daddy?”

Startled, he turned around to find Harper standing in the doorway, her hands clasped around the toy bunny he’d gotten for her when she was born. Blinking in the bright light, she was rubbing her eyes, her dark curls falling down her pajama-clad shoulders.

“Hey, baby, what are you doing up so late?”

He put the bottle down and crouched in front of her.

“Bad dream.” Harper reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, the toy trapped between them.

“It’s just a dream.” Owen gathered her in his arms and kissed her hair, shocked once again by how big she was getting. Not by his stands maybe, but he still remembered the days when she could fit in the cupped palms of his hands, so tiny he was scared to break her. And then in just a blink of an eye they were suddenly here, and now he had no idea how it happened. “It’s not real. C’mon, let’s get you back to bed. You want me to read you something?”

She rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes already drooping sleepily. “Tell me a story.”

“About what?”

“Dragons.”

Owen nudged the door to her room open with his shoulder, careful not to trip on the toys scattered all over the floor and lowered her down, already asleep.

He pulled her blanket over her and tucked her in, wondering not without a twinge of terror in his stomach just how much of his daughter’s life and his own he was not seeing because he didn’t know where to look.

---

A couple of weeks later, Claire found Harper sitting on the bleachers after everyone else had already left, a book in her lap and a tip of a pencil in her mouth, her forehead creased in concentration.

“Hey, honey,” Claire stopped in front of the girl who looked up instantly. “Where’s your dad?”

Harper’s eyes darted toward the door. “Probably running later,” she answered, looking somewhat uncertain, although not particularly troubled. “He’s coming any moment now.”

“It’s okay,” Claire assured her, then folded her arms in front of her on the barrier between them. “What are you doing?”

“Homework,” Harper muttered, her face puckering with displeasure. And then she snapped her head up, her features lighting up momentarily. “Can you do the spin things for me?” She asked with the barely contained excitement she no longer tried to hold back.

Where was the gloomy little thing Owen first brought here back in January? It was quite incredible to watch her shed the layers of caution and distrust and step out of her shell, revealing a real gem of a truly delightful person underneath.  

There was so much life inside her, so much hunger and excitement for everything the world could offer.

Claire laughed and pushed the gate open, stepping off the ice. “I have a better idea.” She lowered down into the chair next to Harper. “Let’s finish your homework and then I’ll teach you how to do them. What do you say?”

When Owen burst through the doors half an hour later, Harper’s homework was done and was sitting in her backpack, and she was doing small, awkward twirls in the middle of the rink, right in the center of a pale spotlight, her hand clasped tightly around Claire’s and her laughter scattering around the cool room and echoing under the ceiling.

He stopped short, panting and relieved beyond measure, and so did they, turning to him at the same time, hands clasped together.

“Daddy!” Harper let go of Claire and moved toward him, breathless and grinning from ear to ear. “Have you seen my spins?”

“Sure did!” He ruffled her hair fondly, earning a stink eye from the girl for doing that. “I’m so sorry,” he said to Claire when she joined them. “I got caught up in—I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I swear.”

“Don’t be, it’s fine,” Claire promised him quickly. “We had fun.” She ran her hand over Harper’s head absently, smiling down at her. “Didn’t we?”

“Come on, champ, go get your boots,” Owen told his daughter, then sunk heavily against the barrier and ran his hand through his hair that was already sticking out in every direction from his trot from the parking lot and down a long corridor. “Thank you,” he mouthed to Claire, a smile coming through his voice.

“We did the homework, too,” she informed him conspiratorially.

He scoffed. “I hope she did at least some of it.”

By the time they were ready to leave, Claire had also gathered her things and was head for the exit, her hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail. Owen pushed the door open for her after she turned off the lights and scooped Harper in his arms while she locked up, shifting her bag from her left shoulder to the right and pocketing her keys.

She followed them to the exit and out into the cold night, the soles of her practical shoes lined with fur squeaking on the linoleum. Having to actually get used to walking after several hours on the ice never ceased to amaze Claire, the sensation almost as alien as having to move on all fours or upside down, making gliding feel more natural than anything else.

“Hey, you need a ride or anything?” Owen turned to Claire once they reached the parking lot and he stopped near his jeep.

“Thank you, Mr. Grady, but I’ve got a ride right here,” she nodded toward a silver Toyota parked two cars down from his and stuffed her hands deeper into the pockets of her overcoat, searching for the quickly dissipating warmth.

Harper giggled, wiggling in his arms to turn to Claire. “Why did you call daddy ‘Mr. Grady’?”

“It’s his name,” Claire looked up at her.

“Yes, but only for the work people, not friends,” the girl informed her with the air of utmost authority.

“Is that what we are, huh?” She asked Owen, her head tilted to her shoulder.

“You tell me, Ms. Dearing,” he told her, straightening up and holding her gaze for a second or two longer than necessary, and suddenly she was not amused anymore, her smile slipping off. “Well,” he coughed when the moment started to stretch, pulling his head a bit into his neck against the sharp gusts of wind. “Thanks, again, for watching Harper tonight. I really appreciate it.”

“It was no trouble at all,” she promised him and started toward her car, but then stopped and turned to him again just as he opened the door and positioned his daughter in her seat in the back. “Owen?”

“Yeah?” He straightened up.

Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it…

“It usually takes me about an hour to clean up a bit and, I don’t know, collect the forgotten gloves, finish some paperwork. Stuff like that.” She chewed on her lip for a few seconds, watching his expression in the dim light of streetlamps running along the perimeter of this small parking lot, his face streaked with shadows and almost completely unreadable. “If you need to be late again, for whatever reason, don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure that everything is okay with Harper.”

He stared at her for a long moment without saying a word, then tapped his fingers on the roof of his car and nodded slowly. “Thanks, I… I’ll try not to make a habit out of it,” he said in that weird voice that felt like a touch of velvet to her skin. “And, Claire?” A pause. “You’re something else. You know that, right?”

“So I’ve heard,” she brushed him off nonchalantly, more for her own benefit than his.

---

It started with a snowstorm that swept in fast and furious one day in late February. All week, the meteorologists swore their heads off, promising that it would move up north, heading toward Canada, barely even grazing Wisconsin. Instead, it seemingly decided to bury the whole state in one giant snowbank until it was tucked safely under a thick, white blanket.

By the time the weather channels finally issued an alert, warning everyone to stay at home or, at the very least, avoid driving, the world had turned into white chaos. Angry wind was throwing handfuls of snow at the windshield of Owen’s car, the wipers working at the top speed to no avail. He leaned over the steering wheel as if it could help him see better, but in the sea of head- and taillights, he was nothing but a dot on a map. Another car stuck in the middle of a massive traffic jam caused by multiple accidents somewhere ahead of him.

He turned on the radio, trying to find the updates, hoping to maybe make it to the next intersection and turn onto a side street and away from this mayhem, but words of the newscaster were fading in and out, the reception spotty and interrupted by the weather, and after a while he had no choice but to turn it off and hope for the best.

He tapped his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel, peering ahead at the swirls of white outside his car. He was late. He was late to pick up Harper, and it was probably only a matter of time before he hopped out of the goddamned car to go get her on foot. The only problem with that plan was that he didn’t think he’d cover one block before ending up buried in the snow. And that was not going to get his daughter home.

His eyebrows pulled together when the car in front of him eased forward, and he all but breathed a sigh of relief only to hit the brakes again not even ten feet later, causing the vehicle behind him to let out a honk of protest. “Right there with ya, buddy,” Owen muttered, glancing into the rearview mirror.

Sick with worry, he checked his watch

And that was when his phone began to ring.

---

The power went out just as Claire finished the class, and in the sudden darkness and silence, she could hear the wind howling in the vents, the tree branches scraping against the roof and the walls of the building. A short panic ensued among the kids and parents alike, and a few tears were shed before the situation got under control and Claire managed to see everybody out in the light of the cellphone flashlights.

Everybody except one.

Owen still wasn’t there, and the building manager was asking everyone to vacate the premises as it was dictated by the safety protocol. Power surges apparently rose the risk of fire – which Claire didn’t want to think of – and therefore extreme weather conditions required immediate evacuation, leaving her with a frightened Harper Grady on her hands.

There was nothing she could do but call Owen – he insisted she had his phone number after the last time he was late picking his daughter up – and tell him to come get Harper from Claire’s place, an old house a few blocks away from the Community Center. It used to belong to her parents and where she’d been living since they passed away five years ago, reluctant to sell it despite the fact that it was too big for just one person and required constant maintenance. Karen kept pestering her about it, pointing out that it was criminally impractical. But Claire liked it, she liked the vibe of it, and the memories its walls held, and all the small things in-between.

And at the moment, it was either taking Harper there, or waiting for him outside in her car, and quite frankly, that sounded downright dreadful. It was cold, the girl was probably tired, and if it was up to Claire, the decision would be a no brainer. But Owen was her father, and his had to be the final word.

“Owen?” There was a long pause on the line when Claire voiced her suggestion, interrupted by the static and honking on his end, and what she thought was a wail of an ambulance siren, and she could almost hear him think, weighing the pros and cons of her offer.

“Yeah, okay.” He cleared his throat. And then he asked her to text him the address.

When he appeared on Claire’s doorstep almost an hour later, smelling not unpleasantly of motor oil, his jacket unzipped and his hair dusted with the snow, Harper was happily snacking on chocolate chip cookies and humming some tune under her breath while she was drawing something that could be both a whale and a rabbit at the kitchen table. She threw herself at her father with a squeal, climbing into his arms and telling him about how Claire had ‘all the books’ and a real ‘grown-up drawing table’, referring to her stand-up drafting desk tucked in the corner of the living room where she worked now and then if she fell behind on her projects.

“Does she, really?” Owen asked, his eyes darting between his daughter and Claire who looked… homey in her leggings and oversized University of Wisconsin sweatshirt. “Why don’t you get your things, honey, and we’ll get going?” He set Harper down and turned to Claire. “Look, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t,” she stopped him, raising her hand. “It wasn’t your fault, and we were both kind of tired, so I did have some ulterior motives for bringing her here.” And then, “Although kidnapping wasn’t one of them.”

Owen chuckled, rubbing his forehead. “Yeah, I sorta figured that out. It’s just, um…” He shook his head, grimacing a little. “This never happened before. Not like that, and I thought she’d be mad because there was this one time I had to pick her up late from her Grandma’s and she wouldn’t talk to me until the next day, but… I kinda didn’t expect the storm to get this bad so fast.” He let out a long breath. “That doesn’t sound good, does it?”

Claire pushed her hair back from her face, her gaze softening. “Sounds okay,” she told him. They both glanced into the living-room where the girl was carefully putting her books and papers and a Winnie-the-Pooh pencil bag into her backpack. “I get it. It’s just the two of you, and it not easy. And I was glad to help.”

Owen’s features relaxed and he nodded, watching her closely as she watched his daughter, for some reason only now noticing a dusting of golden freckles sprinkled over Claire’s nose – the same shade as paler wisps of hair at her temples. And the vanilla scent—Owen first thought was that it was from a pie or something, but now he would bet his very soul on it coming from her skin, washing over him each time she moved, and his stomach clenched at the that thought in response to something he hadn’t felt in so long he didn’t think he still could.

Back a few months ago, when he first saw her at the Community Center, Claire was more of an oddity than a person, someone so different from everyone Owen had ever known he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that she was even real. Then she started working with Harper and once again, she was there but also not really, a fleeting presence he never bothered to actually register, too engrossed in his own life to pay proper attention to anything outside of it.

In a way, it was easy to convince himself he wasn’t really seeing her, if only because he wasn’t quite willing to admit even to himself that she wasn’t entirely unattractive. (Screw that, she was drop-dead gorgeous with that mane of copper-red hair that seemingly hated to be pulled into buns and braids, always struggling to break free, and the lively deep-green eyes – he was grieving, not blind.) And the realization stirred something inside him. Something he was not supposed or allowed to feel for a woman who was not his wife.

“The thing is, it’s like no matter how much time has passed, this whole single parent thing still feels like walking blindfold on a mine field,” he said in a whoosh of breath, if only to say something, do anything that wasn’t staring at Claire. “Half the time, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing well,” she assure him. “Trust me. Granted, I can’t speak from personal experience, but if everyone tried half as hard as you do, this world would be a better place.”

He laughed shakily at that. “Wow, that was profound.”

She shrugged, not at all perplexed by his reaction. “Yeah, well… I have multitudes.” And then added, “I also have a suggestion.” A pause. “I can watch Harper after her lessons if you need to work late.”

“Okay,” Owen drawled slowly, eyeing her with suspicion. “That sounds too good to be true. What’s the catch?”

Claire wrinkled her nose. “My car is all yours the next time it breaks down on me.”

He considered her words, still not convinced she was not joking. “Seriously, what’s the catch?” She cocked an eyebrow at him, and his expression turned grave. “Are you seriously offering to babysit my daughter?”

“I’m offering you a chance not to have to pull her out of the program even if it clashes with your work schedule,” she countered. That, and I’m probably losing my mind, she added in her head.

“I can’t ask that of you, Claire.”

“You’re not, it was my idea. You don’t have to say yes.” She watched a battle of emotions sweep across his face, and then it got impossible to hold his gaze, so she tore hers away, choosing to study the old wallpaper she kept promising herself to change every spring but never got around to doing it because what was that saying about cobbler’s children having no shoes? “It doesn’t make much difference to me, so unless you have other options…”

Crap, Owen thought. This was too much, wasn’t it?

The problem was, he didn’t have other options. Not really. His mother was not driving anymore – her eyesight had dropped significantly in the past couple of years and even though she remained fully functional otherwise, she decided to stop using her car for the sake of her own and everyone else’s safety. Mrs. Carmichael wasn’t driving, period. None of them would walk three miles in frigid weather to pick up Harper after her practice and take her home if he was late.

The girl had a few babysitters after Jenny had passed away but it never quite worked out for anyone – she wasn’t comfortable around strangers, drawing deeper into herself when forced to interact with them against her will, and Owen could tell it was causing her harm rather than helping either of them. And he simply couldn’t afford to let them both slip back into the time when she remained silent and withdrawn for so long he feared it would become permanent.

Claire was right. His only other choice would be to pull her out of ice-skating completely and simply have her stay with Mrs. Carmichael after school, but something told him that this would probably be the worst possible scenario. For some reason – well, for about a thousand of them, from where he was standing – Harper loved Claire Dearing, and Owen loved the way she was around his kid. Attentive but never patronizing, and comfortable too, without the extra layer of pity he’d noticed about some of Harper’s school teachers who were nearly tearing up at the sight of a poor motherless girl, setting his teeth on edge.  

He didn’t have to say yes, that was true. But he hardly could say no, either.

Finally, when the girl hauled her backpack and a handful of other stuff into the hallway, Owen reached for her coat and crouched down in front of his daughter to help her put it on.

“Honey, what do you think about staying with Claire here after your lessons sometimes?” He asked her, considering that it had to be her decision in the end as his fingers worked rather clumsily on a small zipper of her puffed parka. “You know, like today?”

Harper’s mouth dropped open, her gaze shifted to Claire first and then back to Owen. “Every time?” She asked, incredulous.

“No, not every time,” Owen responded quickly, and Claire had to cover her snort with a cough. “Not at all. Just… some days when I have to pick up extra work. What’s you say?”

The girl glanced at Claire again, chewing on her lip. (Like Claire did when she was thinking hard about something. Sweet Jesus, his daughter was already picking up her habits.) Then she lifted her arms to have Owen pick her up and looked seriously into his face when he complied, her eyebrows knitted together. “Can it be every time?”

He grinned, and so it was set.

---

The first time Owen saw not his wife’s chocolate brown eyes in his dream, but Claire’s green ones, he woke up with a start, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, his heart beating out of his chest. The dream was nothing but a smudge in his mind, the details of it erased from his memory the second he opened his eyes, but his stomach was in knots.  

He didn’t know where it came from, or what he was supposed to do about it, but it left him nauseous and disoriented, and worst of all, unable to summon up the image of Jenny without looking at her picture. Every time he closed his eyes, he’d see Claire’s smile.

To be continued....

[gabbygumswrites]

Dental Check Up - A Barry Allen/Leonard Snart Fanfiction

Dental Check Up

Fandom: The Flash (2014)

Rating: Gen

Tags: Dentists, Meet-Cute, First Meetings, Dentist!Len, Alternate Universe - No Powers

Words:3,969

Summary: When Barry Allen has his regular dental check up, he is NOT prepared for his new super cute dentist.

AO3 Link

You can read the fanfiction on AO3 (see link above), or you can read it below. Feel free to share it but please link back to either my AO3 account or my tumblr account . Enjoy!

Barry was shifting in his chair. He had always hated those uncomfortable dentist’s chairs. He was sure they were built to make you even more uncomfortable than you already were. He plucked at the paper napkin the nurse had put around his neck and sighed. He really hated going to the dentist.

Barry wasn’t afraid. He just didn’t relish the feeling of someone poking around in his mouth. When Barry had been small he had been that kind of child who cried and thrashed around during the whole check up. Most of the time his father had to hold him down, because, whether Barry wanted it or not, he was adamant that he got his teeth checked regularly. Barry had hated him during these moments. But he also understood that it wasn’t a punishment.

Later, when he went to live with Joe and Iris, Joe had been just as adamant that they both go to the dentist regularly. He still didn’t like it, but he thought better of it than fighting Joe over this. In the end, Joe had successfully inflicted the habit on him. But a habit didn’t mean that he liked it very much.

That day Barry had a very early appointment. There hadn’t been a lot of people in the waiting room, just a very tired looking woman with a child and a polished businessman. Barry didn’t like being here that early, as it was his free day, and he would have rather slept in and ate breakfast in bed somewhere around noon. But as he couldn’t reschedule, he had rolled out of bed and just jogged over to the doctor’s office without having a shower. He planned to fall straight into bed again later.

Barry shifted again and tried to find a better position to place his head on the headrest. Seriously, how could this thing poke into his neck regardless of how he lay on it? He had been waiting for at least ten minutes and he began to become restless. He just wanted to get out of here.

When he had got into the office and told the secretary he had an appointment, the lady had informed him that he would have a new dentist as his old one had retired. She mentioned the new doctor’s name, but Barry didn’t really care. If he was being honest, he couldn’t even recall his old dentist’s name.

Finally, Barry could hear the door behind him open and close again. He sat up a bit, relieved that he could finally get this over with. He turned his head – and gaped.

“Good morning Mr. Allen. I’m Doctor Snart. I see you are here for your regular check-up?”

Barry blinked. He was face to face with Dr Snart, who had sat down on a chair right next to him.

Barry wasn’t normally that fazed when confronted with a hot guy, but the fact that he absolutely didn’t expect this, and that his doctor – did he say Snart? Wasn’t that the name of the mayor of Central? – set a completely new standard for hotness, Barry temporarily lost all of his higher brain functions.

He absentmindedly shook Snart’s offered hand, taking in the man in front of him. His handsome face had the bluest eyes he had ever seen, framed by a heavy set of lashes. A professional friendly smile crinkled around his eyes, the right corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. Barry couldn’t shake the feeling that, even though Snart was smiling at him, there was something dark about him. His hair was trimmed short and peppered with grey, the only indication Barry got that Snart was probably older than he looked. And damn, he looked nice.

Suddenly, Barry was hyper aware of his worn LA Clippers t-shirt and his jeans which were a bit too big for him. And he didn’t have a shower this morning, damnit.

Dr Snart raised an eyebrow and looked down at their still entwined hands. Barry hastily released him and averted his gaze.

“Well?” he said.

Barry turned scarlet and stammered, “Yes, just a check-up.”

When Barry lay back down again he could hear Dr. Snart chuckle. Great. His life was just perfect. He had been in this room with this super hot guy for about a minute before he made an ass of himself.

Dr Snart rolled nearer with his chair and began to lower Barry’s chair. While Snart placed a mask on his face and grabbed some tools, Barry frantically tried to remember whether he had brushed his teeth or not. A lamp was pointed in his face, and he blinked, then the doctor was descending on him.

“Open, please,” he said, holding out his tools. Barry obeyed.

While Dr. Snart was having a closer look at his teeth, Barry was able to get a closer look at the doctor. As the mask covered Snart’s lower face, Barry was instantly drawn to his eyes. Really, these eyes were mesmerizing. They were icy blue, apart from the innermost ring, which was a shade darker. It was like looking into a crystal clear blue lake. And, ugh, did he actually just think that? He had written his fair share of cheesy poems as a teen, but actually thinking this? As a grown man?

But Snart did have mesmerizing eyes.

Barry also noticed how nice the man smelled. He couldn’t make out any aftershave, so he assumed this was just Snarts natural scent. It made Barry want to lean in closer.

“Well, Mr Allen, everything is perfectly fine,” Snart said and sat up. Barry immediately missed the warmth that had emanated from him. “Just a bit of scaling to do, I will send in my assistant to do that. Should not take that long.”

Barry sat up as well when Dr Snart held out his hand. He took it and it was only now that he noticed that Snarts hand was firm and cool, but not unpleasantly so. The corners of his eyes crinkled.

“I’ll see you for your next appointment then,” he said, shaking Barry’s hand, “Although I doubt that will be soon. You have very good teeth, Mr. Allen.” And he winked at him, released his hand and left the room. Barry blinked. Did he just imagine that?

He was still blinking and sitting upright when a nurse entered the room, smiling brightly at him.

“Good morning, Mr…” She looked at the file on the computer. “Allen! So I’m going to do some scaling for you.”

“Er, yes, please,” he said and lay down again. This was a really strange day.

*

It was a total coincidence that Barry was sitting in the dentist’s waiting room only three days later.

Barry had always been a bit clumsy. He walked into furniture on a daily basis, and he got so used to it he didn’t really notice it anymore and just went with it. The only reminders were the bruises up and down his legs and arms, but Barry didn’t really care. However, after he had met Dr. Snart, he had not really been himself. Barry had been even clumsier than usual. Additionally, his mind seemed to wander off every now and then; within two days he had managed to smash two plates, a bottle of beer, a vial, and he had run into at least four people. This had all been horribly embarrassing, but at least no one was harmed. At least not until Barry had accidentally walked into a recently polished hallway, slipped and fell face down on the floor. He hadn’t even had time to throw up his hands to catch himself, and so he had managed to chip his front tooth.

Barry didn’t consider himself a vain person, but he really didn’t want to walk around with one of his front teeth missing. Besides, his mouth hurt like hell, and he needed someone to check for further damage. That was the reason why he immediately went to see Dr. Snart. The nurse told him that he probably had to wait for a while, as the doctor was fully booked, but Barry didn’t care. He just wanted his tooth fixed.

But when he was called into the surgery and sat down, he remembered that Dr. Snart, cutest of all dentists was going to treat him. All of a sudden, Barry didn’t feel that sorry about chipping his tooth anymore.

“Mr. Allen, back so soon?” Snart came in, professional smile already in place, and offered his hand to Barry. He took it with a shaking hand. “I hear you have a chipped tooth?”

“Yes,” Barry said and offered Snart the part that broke off. Barry had picked it up even though he guessed that it wouldn’t be of any use anyway.

Dr. Snart looked at it, then sat down and lowered Barry’s chair. “I will have a look at it.”

While Dr. Snart was working away on his tooth, Barry had plenty of time to admire those eyes. Barry just couldn’t put a finger on it, but these eyes enthralled him, captured him. He never came across anyone who picked his interest like that – except maybe for Iris.

He loved Iris. He had loved her more than anyone in the world, once. She didn’t choose him, in the end, and that was okay. He knew that they wouldn’t fit together as perfectly as she did now with Eddie. This didn’t mean that he still didn’t wonder what would have happened if he had confessed to her, but he was happy for her nonetheless. And there were plenty of other fish in the sea.

Like Dr. Snart, for example.

Barry realised that his eyes were not as blue as he had thought on that first appointment. Whenever Snart turned to grab another tool, Barry saw that depending on how the light fell into his eyes, they were either pale green or greyish blue. And when he bowed down closer to Barry’s face to see exactly what he was doing, he could make out the different shades of rings around Snart’s irises. Barry was fascinated.

Then, Barry noticed that Snart had stopped what he was doing. He was looking down at Barry with a raised eyebrow. Barry flushed as he realized that his doctor had caught him starring. He quickly looked the other way, fighting the heat rising to his face back down again. He did, however, wonder why Snart hadn’t drawn back.

“So, Mr. Allen, everything is as good as new,” Snart said, sitting back and recalibrating Barry’s chair. Did Barry just imagine this or did his voice sound somewhat huskier? “I would advise you to refrain from eating anything for at least an hour.”

Barry shook himself. He didn’t realise how time had passed. Or that there was a nurse standing right next to him. She must have assisted Snart, but Barry totally blanked on her. He gave her an apologetic smile. She pursed her lips, the corners of her mouth twitching ever so slightly. Her eyes switched between him and Snart.

Snart raised one eyebrow and looked at him concerned when Barry didn’t respond. “Are you alright, Mr. Allen?”

“You seem a bit dazed,” the nurse piped up. “You haven’t given him too much anaesthetic, have you?” She drew nearer and looked Barry straight in the eyes.

“No, Lisa, I actually know what I’m doing,” Snart said and rose. “Please be careful from now on”

He offered Barry his hand again. Barry took it and said, “Yes, sir,” which made Snart chuckle. The nurse beside him snorted.

“You don’t have to be so formal,” Snart said, taking off his mask and giving Barry an amused smile. This time, Barry couldn’t help turning completely red.

After Snart had left the room, still chuckling to himself, Barry slapped his hand over his face.

“‘Sir’? Really Barry?” He heard someone laugh, and Barry was again amazed that he forgot that Lisa the nurse was still with him in the surgery, cleaning tools.

She turned around and put a hand on her hip, giving Barry a knowing look. “Don’t fret, sweetheart, my brother can be a bit…distracting.” She winked at him. Barry just wanted to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath him right here and now.

*

Barry was very proud to say that from that day on he took his dental care very seriously. He was now using dental floss and mouth rinse on a daily basis instead of occasionally when he knew an appointment was due. He also found it necessary to treat himself to a professional tooth cleaning, and he was amazed at how well a job Dr. Snart was doing.

After that, he realized that his gums were bleeding, and Snart assured him that it was normal and that he should just use another mouth wash. Barry also discovered that his teeth were aching like hell after he had eaten some apples, but Dr. Snart reassured him that there was nothing to worry about.

And before Barry knew it, he had been to see Dr. Snart more often than he had ever been to the dentist his whole life. He reasoned that he had never taken this as seriously as he should have in the past.

Joe gave him an odd look when Barry announced that he was going to the dentist again, and he asked, “Barry, are you sure you’re okay? I had a hard time dragging you to the dentist almost all your life and now you’re going voluntarily?”

Barry was putting on his shoes and just smiled at Joe. “Aren’t you happy I finally take this seriously?” He turned around and checked his hair in the mirror. He could see Joe in the reflection, putting down his cup of coffee. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Barry his I know something’s going on-look.

“Come on Bar, you can tell me,” he said, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. Then he grinned, like he had just come up with the most obvious solution. “Is it a pretty nurse?”

Barry whirled around, startled. “What?”

“I knew it!” Joe gave him a wide smile and stepped closer, grabbing Barry’s shoulder. “Did you finally find someone else? I mean, I knew you were pining away after Iris, but you really have to move on, you know?”

Barry just looked at Joe and stammered, “I don’t know what you mean. I have to go, see you later!” And he wriggled out of Joe’s grasp and fled out of the house.

The truth was, Barry knew he didn’t actually need to see Dr Snart that often. And he knew that he had a crush on him. But he also knew that he was a skinny, gangly man in his twenties, and he had absolutely no chance with a man like Snart, who was also probably old enough to be his father. Not that Barry would care about the age gap, but he also didn’t know if Snart was actually interested in men. And if so, how could he be possibly interested in Barry? Someone who couldn’t even form a complete sentence around Snart or stop ogling him like an idiot?

Barry pouted, kicking a can in front of him in frustration. Iris often told him that he underestimated the power of his big puppy dog eyes, but Barry had always been kind of a pessimist. At least when it came to romance.

He was so sure of Snart not being interested at all, but he just couldn’t stop seeing him. He felt addicted to those eyes. He had never seen eyes that could capture him like that.

Barry sighed. He knew that all of this was going nowhere. He knew he had to stop pretending at some point. Maybe this should be the last time today. Maybe he should try and move on. Maybe he should even just go and miss this appointment altogether? Rip the plaster off rather now than later?

No, Barry decided. Just this one last time.

He knew he was being overdramatic. But he didn’t care. No one knew, after all. Except maybe Lisa, but she didn’t seem like the vicious type to tell on him. Although, Barry did think that there was something mischievous about her smile every time he saw her.

Today Lisa was sitting at the reception and gave Barry a wide grin when he entered.

“Long time no see Mr. Allen. You can go through to number three, Dr. Snart will be with you in a minute.”

She winked at him, and Barry gave her a bashful smile. He liked Lisa. He hadn’t talked to her that much, but he liked her attitude. And she seemed totally okay with him coming for the most ridiculous reasons just to see her brother. Which, if he were honest with himself, gave him a little glimmer of hope.

Barry went into the surgery and sat down, waiting for Snart to enter. He nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He was amazed to realize that he wasn’t unnerved by the actual treatment anymore, but rather by the one who treated him.

He didn’t have to wait long before Dr. Snart entered the room. But this time, Snart didn’t offer his hand or greeted Barry as usual. He just closed the door, sat down on his usual chair and crossed his arms over his chest, giving Barry a calculating look.

Uh-oh. This wasn’t good. Barry’s heartbeat instantly picked up in speed.

“Mr. Allen,” Snart said, and Barry knew that tone was not a good one. “May I ask… what’s the matter with you?”

He cocked his head and gave Barry a hard look. Barry swallowed. “Wha-what do you mean?”

“What I mean is,” Snart started, crossing his legs, “that I have had a look at your file and you seem to be coming round more often than in recent years. And I must add that you never seem to have any serious ailment when I see you.”

Snart starred at him and said nothing. Barry thought that maybe he was supposed to say something at this point, but he really didn’t know what, so he kept his mouth shut.

Then Dr. Snart heaved a heavy sigh. “Maybe you’re not taking me seriously.”

He rolled his chair nearer to Barry, and all of a sudden Barry couldn’t take it. He sprang up from his chair, nearly falling over. One of Snart’s hands shot out to grab unto his arm to prevent him from falling. Barry’s skin started to pleasantly sting where Snart touched him. His face turned flaming red. He quickly looked away, shrugging out of the touch. He could hear Snart’s intake of breath, on the verge of saying something, but he quickly stammered a “Sorry” before he bolted out of the surgery and into the busy streets. In his panic, he had only vaguely registered Lisa calling after him.

Barry had, like every fucking time, screwed up big time. Not only that Snart found his frequent visits a bit dodgy, no, Barry had just acted like the biggest idiot in the whole universe. He wasn’t a teenage girl, for crying out loud!

Well, at least he could move on now. But he had to find another dentist. Great.

Barry realised that is feet were carrying him down the road straight to Jitters. After that encounter he really needed a hot drink. Preferably something with loads of mini marshmallows.

Just fifteen minutes later Barry was sitting at his favourite table with a big mug of hot cocoa. He didn’t care at all that it wasn’t the time for chocolaty beverages. He just needed some sugar now. Because, maybe, Barry just felt a bit like a stupid lovesick teenager who just needed to drown his sorrows in chocolate.

Barry looked gloomily into his mug, watching the marshmallows melt into one gooey blob. He sipped at his drink, shuddering when the hot liquid touched his tongue. Barry had always been particularly fond of hot chocolate, but the ones at Jitters had always been his favourite. He wondered what they put in them to make them so addictive.

Within a short period of time Barry had emptied his mug and felt slightly better, but he decided that he needed another one. He just wanted to get up to order another drink from the counter when he almost ran into someone just passing his table. “Sorry,” he said. But when he looked up, he froze.

“Mr. Allen?”

Dr. Snart was standing in front of him, take-away cup in one hand and phone in the other. He wasn’t wearing his usual doctor’s clothes, but instead was clad in casual black jeans and t-shirt, and he had donned a leather jacket. It gave him an edgy air, and Barry thought he looked unbelievably hot. It suited him far better than the blue and white combo.

Snart raised an eyebrow, then looked past his shoulder at his empty mug. “I don’t think any of these beverages here are good for your teeth. You should refrain from them.”

Barry gave Snart a puzzled look, then glanced at the cup in Snart’s hand. “Well, I don’t think that strawberry frappes are good for your teeth, either,” he said, pointing at his drink. He didn’t know where that sassy remark came from. Didn’t he just run away from this man’s surgery like a maniac?

Snart smirked. “I’m a dentist, I know what I’m doing,” he said and, as if to challenge Barry, he fixed him with his eyes and took a long sip. Barry could only stare at Snart, but then he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

Well, in for a dime, in for a dollar. He could play at the same game.

“So you’re one of those doctors who preach one thing and do the other? Then maybe I shouldn’t take everything you say at face value.”

“You should. I’m a professional. At least when it comes to my job.” Did Snart just wink at him? Maybe he just imagined it. Or it was a trick of the light or something. Anyway, Barry didn’t know what he wanted to say anymore. He did, however, keep his composure. He already lost his dignity once today, and that was quite enough.

“I think it was very rude of you to just run out of my surgery earlier today,” Snart continued, looking serious again.

Barry averted his eyes and looked at the floor. “I’m… sorry,” he said, not looking up. “I won’t bother you again, I promise.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Snart said. “I… well…”

Barry chanced to look up at Snart, startled by the hint of uncertainty in his voice. He was surprised to see Snart chewing awkwardly on his lower lip, looking at something on Barry’s right.

“My sister tried to explain everything to me when you bolted. It’s just…” He took a deep breath, then looked back at Barry, surer now, and with the same mischievous smile as Lisa’s tugging at his lips. “You didn’t come to the surgery because you actually had dental problems, did you?”

At that, Barry rubbed the back of his neck and looked bashfully at the floor again. He could feel his cheeks heat up. “Well, yes and no, to be honest. I really needed that cleaning, though”

Snart huffed a laugh. “Yes, you did. Your smile is more radiant now.” Barry looked up, biting his lips. He couldn’t believe it, but Snart was actually flirting with him. This must be a dream.

“Can I buy you a drink Mr. –”

“Barry,” he interrupted Snart. The other smiled.

“Barry,” he repeated, and Barry liked how his name sounded when Dr. Snart said it.

He gave him a wide smile. “Sure, doctor –“

“Please, call me Len.”