#I may even go home this afternoon without all energy sapped who knows

[isfjmel-phleg]

Peace, perfect peace, with the noisy coworker who sits behind me far away (on vacation this week)

[theworldinclines]

Title: family matters Pairing: Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi Excerpt:      “You’re almost like another son to him anyway,” Sizhui points out.      “So you’re the favourite child while I get tossed to the wayside?” Ao3 link

Read below the cut.

     The first time Jingyi meets Sizhui, they are each five. Zewu-Jun himself delivers the boy to lessons and asks that the children treat Sizhui with exceptional respect and consideration. That in itself isn’t anything new, as the Lans have written rules that explain why giving others kindness is one of the many keys to leading a decent life and acting as a role model to those in- and outside the sect. What was different, however, was the moment before Zewu-Jun took his leave from the students.

     He gave a downturn of his chin to the boys and the teacher, but was unable to take more than two steps before little Sizhui had grappled to his robes, arms held fast around the Sect Leader’s left leg. Jingyi has never been known for necessarily obedient behaviour, but even he had never dared such an act toward Zewu-Jun, let alone in public. To the entire room’s astonishment, the man didn’t look put out in the very least. Rather than reprimand the child, Zewu-Jun put a gentle hand to his head and guided him out into the gardens. Jingyi knew he would be scolded were he to peek at them, and did it anyway when Laoshi’s back was turned.

     Outside he saw Sizhui and Zewu-Jun, the Sect Leader in his immaculate robes bent to a knee as though they were in the cleanly confines of a hall rather than stood on a dusty path. Sizhui was staring at the ground, rubbing at his nose, and Zewu-Jun gave him a gentle chuck beneath the chin, murmuring words Jingyi couldn’t possibly hear. Sizhui’s nod prompted a smile from the Sect Leader that Jingyi, even at his young age, could tell held something more behind it.

     He was quick to be facing the front of the room by the time Sizhui was led back into the class, much more collected and prepared to learn for the day. Jingyi understands, sort of; although he hadn’t wanted to begin lessons either, it’s just what is expected of children their age in the Cloud Recesses. He’d still stomped and whined, of course, but here he sits.

     And he’s rather glad to have come once Laoshi dismisses them, because he gets to trot after Sizhui’s slow movements and say, “Hey!” He recalls in a split-second Zewu-Jun’s request that they show Sizhui respect, along with the rules, and adds quickly, “Welcome to Cloud Recesses. I haven’t seen you before.” Sizhui stares at him, uncertain. “Did you just come here? Where’d you move from?”

     Sizhui gives a helpless shrug that is interrupted by the Sect Leader’s prompt appearance by his side. Jingyi immediately dips into a polite little bow that makes Zewu-Jun smile and he returns the gesture. Jingyi grins before he can bite it down and says, “Zewu-Jun, where’s Sizhui from?”

     The Sect Leader hesitates a moment before his expression smooths into something less telling. “He is an orphan, A-Yi,” he says simply. “I trust that you will show him kindness.”

     Jingyi looks at Sizhui with slightly widened eyes, nodding vigorously. “I will!” he promises the older man. To the boy, he says, “I’ll protect you. Don’t worry.”

     For the first time, Sizhui’s lips quirk into the hint of a smile. “You don’t need to do that. I’m okay.”

     “Too late,” Jingyi says firmly. “Tell me if anyone is mean to you and I’ll deal with them.” Zewu-Jun lowers his eyes to hide his amusement and Jingyi barrels on, “Better yet, I’ll stick by your side to save the trouble. Okay?”

     Sizhui allows a little nod before Zewu-Jun murmurs that they should be heading home. The boy nods and Jingyi gives a wave, which Sizhui repays with a shy, squint-eyed smile. Jingyi beams. It may be Zewu-Jun’s request, but keeping Sizhui safe won’t be an arduous task at all, he thinks. Maybe they’ll even become good friends!

     Jingyi finds Sizhui by the rabbits. It’s his friend’s favourite spot in the Cloud Recesses and if ever there’s a time when Jingyi can’t seem to find Sizhui in the main pavilion, he knows where he’ll be. Today is no exception.

     Sizhui had disappeared just before he and Jingyi were meant to meet. They had each taken their meals as quickly as possible without appearing impolite to their families before the usual rendezvous by the rock garden’s bridge for a short break together, a daily update of all things Cloud Recesses. But when Jingyi arrived, Sizhui was nowhere to be seen and he’d known that something must have happened for his best friend to abandon him without warning.

     Seeing Sizhui now, surrounded by soft rabbits, Jingyi hopes that he’d perhaps fallen into a brief mood as he sometimes does and all is in fact well, though he’d had to come here to get away from it all. He wouldn’t fault Sizhui that. However, when he calls out for him in approach, Sizhui wipes at his face like he’s been caught, and Jingyi begins to frown.

     “A-Hui,” he says, coming to a stop beside him. Sizhui won’t look at him, gaze focused on the ground as he soothes a rabbit in his lap, and Jingyi can see that his eyes are red, cheeks tear-streaked. “A-Hui,” he repeats.

     “I’m alright,” Sizhui says. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

     “It’s been four years and you still think I care,” Jingyi replies, the slightest sarcasm in his words. “What happened?”

     “It really isn’t a big deal.”

     “So some non-issue made you come here and cry?” Jingyi deduces dryly.

     “They…” Sizhui stops.

     Jingyi sombers and can feel his frown deepening. “They who?”

     “Mingyu. And Pengfei. Rumours about where I’m from.”

     “Sizhui, what’d they do?”

     “They said…” Sizhui’s hands shake only slightly where they hold the rabbit, but it still makes Jingyi’s stomach hurt. “Just that they think I’m from that old sect that was eradicated years ago for their evil ways, and how it’s strange I’m not dead like the rest of them. A-Fei said if I’m evil it’s their duty to — ” Sizhui doesn’t complete the sentence as his voice catches, but Jingyi is already on his feet. “A-Yi!” Sizhui’s hand reaches for Jingyi’s ankle, though he’s too far to catch. “What are you doing?”

     “What’s it look like?” Jingyi demands. “I’m going to challenge them to a duel and shame them in front of the gods and the Four Families. What else?”

     “Jingyi, don’t,” Sizhui says tiredly.

     “Why not?”

     “We’ve only just begun sword-work, for one,” Sizhui quips, aiming for a joke. Jingyi crosses his arms over his chest and Sizhui sighs as he gently sets the rabbit aside to stand. “We’re barely 10,” he says. “You can’t fight another kid to the death, Jingyi.”

     “I disagree,” he mumbles.

     “Well, that’s allowed. I don’t expect us to agree on everything. But you’ll only get in trouble and I don’t want that.”

     “They said horrible things to you!” Jingyi exclaims. “And I said I’d protect you. ‘Our word is our oath,’ remember? Never break a promise. If I don’t confront them, I’m betraying one of our rules. A punishable offense, you know.”

     “Coming here to find me is enough,” Sizhui says, fond but immovable, per usual. “I’m not even crying anymore, thanks to you. I’d say you did your duty.” Jingyi grumbles his dissent, arms still crossed, but Sizhui just bumps their shoulders together as he stands by his side, twining an arm through Jingyi’s out of habit. “Let’s get back to class.”

     “They’re lucky they didn’t say that stuff in front of me,” Jingyi says while they walk. “Those brats. Don’t think I won’t do it next time.”

     “Yes, A-Yi.”

     “Don’t ‘Yes, A-Yi’ me; I mean it!”

     “Okay, A-Yi.”

     “Sizhui!” comes the expected whine.

      Because it is their shared space, another day finds the boys with the rabbits. Zewu-Jun had apparently shown it to Sizhui when he first arrived and was feeling lonely, and although Jingyi dislikes that Sizhui had felt sad, he’s happy that it had at least brought them a special hideaway that so few know about. There’s nothing like an afternoon of hideously dull lessons to remind Jingyi why he so prefers not being in class. As if he ever forgets.

     “There’s no way Laoshi Qiren isn’t trying to kill us,” Jingyi deadpans. “I swear, leaving his class I’m always sapped of both energy and will to live. Not a coincidence.”

     “You say this nearly every day.”

     “And it’s true! A slow-burn murder.”

     “I feel certain that if my Grand-Uncle was trying to kill me, there’d be more concern from my father and uncle.”

     Jingyi  makes a face and holds a rabbit up to meet her dark gaze. “What do you think? Who’s right, little one?”

     Sizhui rolls his eyes, taking the rabbit gently from Jingyi so that he can return her to the grass with her family. “She can’t talk,” he says, “but if she could, she’d agree with me.”

     “One of our numerous Sect rules is to reserve assumptions until proper evidence is drawn,” Jingyi recites, “yet here you are. What would your esteemed uncle say? Or your father, for that matter?”

     “Zewu-Jun would say it’s worth it to tease you. Baba would say… I’m right,” Sizhui concludes proudly. “Because I’m his son.”

     “Nepotism! Utter bias!”

     “You’re almost like another son to him anyway,” Sizhui points out.

     “So you’re the favourite child while I get tossed to the wayside?” Sizhui laughs at Jingyi’s affronted expression, and for that Jingyi takes his free hand where it rests across from him on the grass. “You know, that’s fine. If he already accepts me as a son, there won’t be any trouble when I request formal permission to court you.”

     Sizhui turns red and pulls his hand back to pet the rabbit, glancing around as though someone might be watching all of a sudden. “You’re silly,” he says to Jingyi.

     “We’re already going to be 15!” Jingyi pouts.

     “Why are you so interested in discussing it today?”

     Jingyi tugs a little at a few strands of grass. “Just the lesson earlier about cultivation partners.”

     Sizhui’s cheeks haven’t lost their blush but he does look pleasantly surprised as he says, “You paid attention in class after all! A-Yi!”

     “Only for today because it applied to me,” Jingyi insists. “To us, I guess.”

     Sizhui seems to remember his shyness and ducks his head. “You want me to be your cultivation partner?” he asks.

     “Don’t you want to be?”

     “I never said I didn’t!” Sizhui says quickly, seeing that Jingyi appears disheartened. He carefully reaches for his hand despite his own red face and says, “Would I spend all my time with you if I didn’t want to?”

     “Well, how should I know?” Jingyi asks, but he’s sitting up like he’s got less weight holding him down now. Back to his usual self, which is a good sign. “Some cultivation partners are platonic, you know.”

     “Rarely.”

     “A-Hui, are you questioning Laoshi Qiren?”

     “I’d prefer to avoid lashing by oar if I can avoid it, thank you.”

     “I thought you said you have nepotism on your side!”

     Sizhui shakes his head and, somehow graceful even here, stands up from the ground. “We should head back, A-Yi,” he says, brushing invisible dust from his robes. “It’s getting late now.”

     “Can’t we just stay here forever?” Jingyi asks dramatically, falling onto his back. At Sizhui’s look, he sighs and extends a hand upward for Sizhui to accept.

     Instead of allowing him to help Jingyi to his feet, Jingyi tugs Sizhui down so that he tumbles back to the ground, half against Jingyi’s side. Jingyi laughs aloud in amused delight while Sizhui’s blush returns with a vengeance.

     “Lan Jingyi!” he scolds, twisting away from him. “Shameless!”

     “You sound like your father!” Jingyi laughs again.

     Sizhui huffs and hurries to stand, putting distance between himself and Jingyi. “And if you don’t want him to give you the oar, you’d better just do as I say. Let’s go.”

     “Bossy, bossy,” Jingyi says, though he’s following Sizhui obediently for the path. He sneaks a glance to his left and can’t help but grin at Sizhui’s flushed cheeks and the way his ears have gone pink at the tips. According to Sizhui, Hanguang-Jun’s ears do the same.

     He gives a little poke to the skin of Sizhui’s ear, just to mess with him, and Sizhui huffs another breath that sounds suspiciously like, “Completely shameless!” before abandoning Jingyi altogether to hurry ahead of him.

     If Wei Wuxian had been asked as a teenager whether he could ever envision making a life for himself in the Cloud Recesses, he’d have laughed in your face. He did, actually, when Jiang Cheng made the passing joke all those years ago, assuring his brother that this place would never feel like home to someone with Wei Wuxian’s habits. Now, what’s closer to two decades ago than Wei Wuxian would like to think about, he has to admit that his younger self hadn’t been nearly open-minded enough.

     Circumstances that he couldn’t have foreseen changed his view of Cloud Reccesses, and he knows that he will be here for as long as he can be because being here means keeping his place beside his husband and son. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else these days and the certainty of that sometimes takes him by surprise, when he considers just how different things are now but in a way that feels right, like it’s what always was meant to be.

     He feels himself smiling when he sees A-Yuan and A-Yi in the woods near the rabbits. He knows that Lan Xichen had brought A-Yuan years before when he’d been new here, sure that giving the child a piece of Lan Wangji would bring him comfort in his three-year absence. It’s still Wei Wuxian’s favourite place in the Cloud Recesses — except for the rooms he shares with Lan Zhan, of course, but that’s a given — and it makes him even happier that Lan Sizhui had found solace here as his fathers had done at his age.

     He watches from afar with a fond smile as the boys stand to be on their way home, but Wei Wuxian’s smile freezes when he can tell even from here that Sizhui is smiling sweetly with a hand in Jingyi’s, and his smile decidedly disappears when he realises their faces are far too close together. Wei Wuxian trips backward, a twig or five snapping as he does, and it must alert the boys to an outside present for when he regains his footing against the tree, they’ve fled the scene. A hand to his chest, Wei Wuxian stands there in astonishment.

     This lasts for only a moment before he is all but sprinting for the Library Pavilion where his husband is sure to be writing this early afternoon. He forces himself to slow down so as to not alarm Lan Wangji, though he comes to a sliding stop inside the doors anyhow with heaving breath.

     “What’s happened?” Lan Wangji asks, not lifting his eyes from his work. When it’s obvious that Wei Wuxian is still having trouble speaking, he looks up at him. “Wei Ying?”

     “Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. He goes to him across the room and drops onto the floor to clutch at his husband’s arm. He stares at Wei Wuxian with the slightest concern and Wei Wuxian says, “I don’t mean to be dramatic — ”

     “Debatable,” Lan Wangji answers. “Say what you have to say.”

     “Did you know A-Yuan is — that he and Jingyi are — ”

     “They are what?”

     “I’ve just seen them with the rabbits, which is ordinary, but afterwards, Lan Zhan — ”

     “Baba? A-die?”

     Both men look for the entrance where their son has appeared, hands folded in front of him and looking for all the world their dutiful, sweet boy. Wei Wuxian’s heart stops, a feeling he’s never enjoyed, and jumps to his feet.

     “Sizhui!” he exclaims.

     “I need to speak with you both. Is this a bad time?” he asks. He’s walked in on more than one longing glance between his fathers to know when he should make himself scarce, but Wei Wuxian waves his son’s worry away like a pesky gnat.

     “Come here,” Lan Wangji invites him, and Sizhui does. He sits across from Lan Wangji, who looks up at his still-standing husband. Wei Wuxian hurriedly settles beside him and nods at Lan Sizhui in assurance.

     “I wanted to tell you on my own, before anyone else, so that you would know I’m sure of my decision,” Sizhui begins. “With your formal permission, I… I will begin publicly courting Jingyi.” Sizhui’s ears have begun to redden but he doesn’t hesitate as he goes on, “We’d like to be married.”

     The library is silent enough that a pin’s dropping would prove thunderous.

     As calm as he normally is, Lan Wangji simply asks, “How long have you known?”

     “A-die, you know he and I have been friends since almost the day I arrived here. He’s been there for me without my ever having to ask, and we… we’ve been certain of how we feel for over six years now.”

     “Six years?” Wei Wuxian blurts aloud. Lan Wangji gives him a warning side-eye and Wei Wuxian tries to remain collected. “Sizhui, if it’s been so long, why haven’t you told us until today?”

     Sizhui’s flush deepens but he forces himself to meet his father’s eyes. “Before all else, Jingyi and I are friends. We didn’t want the hassle of chaperones or rumours. I understand if our keeping this secret is upsetting, Baba.” He bows his head. “I… I’m soon to be 18, and I know we’re young. But I can’t help wanting to make the most of whatever time A-Yi and I have. You and A-die — ”

     A pause. “From what I’ve been told of your story, it has kept in my mind that I shouldn’t live with this sort of hidden feeling any longer than necessary.” Sizhui looks up at them. “Jingyi loves me, and I love him. Will you allow our marriage?”

     Wei Wuxian is crying, which he’d be embarrassed about if he cared, and he throws propriety to the wind in favour of opening his arms for his son, who gladly and in relief stands to accept the embrace. Lan Wangji is sort of smiling in a clear indication that he’s happy with these events, and Wei Wuxian leans to poke at his cheek just to tease him.

     “I’m thrilled you’ve told us,” Wei Wuxian says to Sizhui. “I assume Jingyi is informing his parents?”

     “Well, we wanted to wait until we had your blessing,” Sizhui admits. “It would be easier to tell them once we know Hanguang-Jun and the former Yiling Patriarch are on our side.”

     “You little schemers!” Wei Wuxian says, giving Sizhui’s cheek a light pinch. “Go on, then. Tell Jingyi the good news.”

     Sizhui beams and looks at Lan Wangji. His smile strengthens under his son’s eyes and he gives the slightest nod, which Sizhui knows to translate as wholehearted approval.

     He bows to his fathers and disappears from the library. Wei Wuxian falls against Lan Wangji’s arm as soon as he’s gone.

     “Ah, Lan Zhan. I rushed here to tell you about how I saw them kiss in the woods, but A-Hui beat me to it. I suppose they’d just decided at that moment to tell us, you think?”

     “Mn.”

     “If I didn’t already know Jingyi to be a good boy, I’d have to kill him.” Wei Wuxian sneaks a look at Lan Wangji, who doesn’t look amused. “No fun, Lan Zhan, no fun.” He taps a finger on the table and at Lan Wangji’s prompting expression says, “Well, I suppose they’ll be needing a chaperone now, eh? Can I volunteer to keep an eye on Jingyi? Break a leg or two?”

     “Wei Ying.”

     “Ah, Lan Zhan, I’m kidding,” Wei Wuxian says with a half-pout. “Huh. Maybe this is how Grand Master Qiren feels about me defiling the soul of his youngest nephew. I think I understand now.”

     “You did not ‘defile’ anything,” Lan Wangji says without pause.

     “My good husband.” Wei Wuxian presses a kiss to his cheek, followed by a gentle pat to the other. Although he’s smiling, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Lan Wangji covers Wei Wuxian’s hand carefully with his, wordlessly asking for Wei Wuxian to speak his mind.

     “It’s nothing. Only what Sizhui mentioned about our past. I don’t want to marry away our son but I… I am grateful that they don’t have to endure… all we had to endure. No mortifyingly long wait to reach their happily ever after. I’m glad for it.”

     Lan Wangji nods his agreement and brushes a kiss against his husband’s hand, making him blush. “A-Zhan!” he says with feigned astonishment. “Not in the library! Shameless.” Wei Wuxian knows he isn’t imagining the amused, pleased look on Wangji’s face, and he can’t hide his own smile at the sight. He still pulls out of Lan Wangji’s grip and says, “I don’t want to be responsible for any damage here, Gods forbid Qiren’s wrath finds me! Later?”

     “Mn. Later.”

     Wei Wuxian dimples at Lan Wangji, firing off a wink, before hightailing it for the Gods know where.

     Lan Wangji returns to his writing, but pauses as he thinks about the hour’s events. His son will be married surely within a year, perhaps have children of his own. The thoughts of a new baby to hold and Sizhui being loved so dearly bring such an unexpected wave of warmth to Lan Wangji that he decides, for today, he can put work to the side. He goes off to find his family growing, or perhaps the ‘later’ he’d been promised.

[swhurtcomfort]

Hey, can I request an Obi-Wan with a bad fever getting taken care of by Anakin who is too stubborn to admit hes also sick?

Obi-Wan blinked at the thermometer, trying to make his bleary eyes focus enough to read the numbers on the display. It was no use. His head was pounding. He decided that whatever the temperature was, it was too damn high, and shuffled from the ‘fresher back to bed.

The datafile he and Anakin had received before the mission said that 90% of humans were naturally immune to the Jaboori flu virus. Since returning home two days ago, it had become apparent that Obi-Wan was among the unlucky few.

The healer had sent him home with medicine for his symptoms, but he was supposed to mix it with tea and at present, the kitchen unit felt impossibly far away. Obi-Wan was content to crawl back into his covers and try to sleep through the aches and chills for now.

…

A click of the door startled him back into wakefulness.

“Hey Master, quick question,” said Anakin, voice sharp with sarcasm. “Is your fever up to a hundred and three?”

He was holding out the thermometer that Obi-Wan had abandoned on the sink counter. Obi-Wan made a non-committal sound without sitting up.

“If it’s still this bad even with the medicine, you need to go back to the healer,” Anakin continued.

For a heartbeat, Obi-Wan wished that Anakin had agreed to stay with another knight for the duration of Obi-Wan’s illness, as was standard practice when masters came down with anything more contagious than the average cold. The exception had only been granted based on the fact that Anakin was nearing his 17th birthday—hardly a vulnerable child, and because there was a very good chance that he was not susceptible to Jaboori flu anyway.

He quickly dismissed that thought; conceding that it was good to have his padawan was nearby. Even if Anakin did keep waking him up and talking far too loudly. Obi-Wan’s reply came out as a grumble.

“One more time?”

“I said I slept through the last dose of medicine.”

“Oh,” Anakin’s posture relaxed somewhat. “You should really set an alarm or something.”

Obi-Wan didn’t feel like pointing out that he’d done that, but he’d woken up too miserable and useless to do anything. Anakin huffed and vanished through the doorway with a swish of long robes.

Obi-Wan’s pajamas and even the sheets were soaked with sweat. He summoned the energy to pull his shirt off over his head and grab a fresh one from the bureau. The sheets he would just have to deal with another time.

He tucked his preferred pillow under his arm and selected the least disgusting blanket from the tangle at the foot of the bed, then shuffled to the couch. His back and legs ached abominably, weak and sore from the fever, his throat was raw and his stomach in knots.

He could hear Anakin fussing with something in the kitchen area, but he couldn’t find the strength to wonder what. He simply lied down and tried to block everything out. After a few minutes, Anakin emerged with a mug in each hand.

“Hey, you can sleep once you’ve got some medicine in you,” he scolded.

“Wasn’t sleeping,” Obi-Wan protested, opening his bleary eyes.

Anakin set the tea down on the coffee table, then opened one of the paper sachets from the healers’ and tipped the powdered medicine into Obi-Wan’s. He stirred it carefully before sliding the steaming mug across the table.

Obi-Wan restrained himself from scoffing. He wasn’t so incapacitated that Anakin had to stir his tea for him. But on the other hand, he didn’t want Anakin to be discouraged. Odd, how he could be so tactless and self-absorbed in some things, but simultaneously so careful and eager to take care of someone else. He was growing into a very kind and compassionate young man, and so may Jedi failed to see that.

So instead of teasing, Obi-Wan said, “Thank you, Padawan.”

The taste of the powder ruined the tea, if he was being honest, but it was warm and soothing and it soon made Obi-Wan sleepy again. He wasn’t really well enough to hold a conversation, and Anakin didn’t try to make him.

He was just on the edge of sleep, nebulously aware of drifting into unconsciousness, when he suddenly felt Anakin’s hand lift the mug from his fingers. Anakin glanced at the few centimeters of liquid left in the bottom, and muttered to himself, “Close enough,”

…

A loud crash jerked Obi-Wan from his feverish sleep.

Through a groggy haze, Obi-Wan saw Anakin crouching down, scooping up the pieces of a broken plate. He placed a handful of shards on the table, then sat back on his calves and pressed his palm to his forehead with a little frown, as if checking his own temperature.

Oh no, Obi-Wan thought to himself. Suddenly he noticed that Anakin looked pale. Had he been so pale before?

Anakin glanced towards Obi-Wan, who quickly pretended to be asleep. Obi-Wan felt a clammy hand rest against his own forehead, then a sympathetic hum. The hand retreated, and Obi-Wan was alone.

…

Obi-Wan sat up on the couch and rubbed his eyes with the heavy, scummy feeling of having slept too long and neglected to brush one’s teeth.

It was somehow midmorning. He wondered if he’d slept the whole afternoon and night, or if he’d woken up and was just unable to remember it. Either way, he noted with some satisfaction that only one side of his head was throbbing, and his balance had improved somewhat.

He needed to get cleaned up but the ‘fresher was occupied, steam from a hot shower pouring out of the crack beneath the door. That was a bit odd; Anakin usually preferred sonic over water.

Obi-Wan turned instead into his room and saw that the sweaty sheets had been stripped off his bed, and fresh ones were unfolded in a heap on the mattress. It looked as though Anakin had begun the task, then gotten distracted. Regardless, Obi-Wan smiled at the effort.

He heard Anakin step out of the refresher and went back into the hallway. He almost walked past the padawan with only a friendly nod, but something caught his eye. A flush of color high on Anakin’s cheeks. He took his padawan by the elbow to stop him, and look him in the face.

Suddenly all the pieces came together. “Oh, dear,”

“I-I think my ears just still haven’t popped from hyperspace,” said Anakin quickly. “That’s all. They were really starting to hurt, and I thought the steam would help.”

Obi-Wan heaved a mournful sigh. “That’s how it started for me. Pressure, like an ear infection. Anakin, you have the flu.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “I’m immune.”

“You don’t know that. You should get to the healers’, try to take care of it before your fever spikes like mine did.”

Anakin pushed past him into his room and shut the door. Obi-Wan shook his head as he watched him go.

Obi-Wan hadn’t found the will to make the bed, in the end, but he’d taken his medicine and returned to the sofa. He groaned as this eased the pressure on his sore muscles. The fever was ever present, lower now but still sapping his energy.

Anakin was sick. That would only become more obvious, Obi-Wan was sure. Still he was a grown padawan, he needed space. That was a good excuse to stay horizontal for another few hours.

…

The medicine was working at its peak when Obi-Wan awoke next. He felt okay enough to haul himself up to check on Anakin. With a flick of his fingers, he slid open Anakin’s door and saw that party sprawled awkwardly across the bed, legs entangled in his sheets.

“Padawan,” Obi-Wan prompted. Anakin groaned.

“Let me be,” he mumbled and wrinkled up his nose in a melodramatic pout.

“Don’t make that face, you don’t have to move.” Obi-Wan sat down on the bed beside him. “You just need to let me take your temperature.”

“I’m immune to Jaboori flu,” Anakin protested with a hoarse voice that was not helping his argument.

“It certainly seems otherwise,” said Obi-Wan softly. Anakin allowed him to place the thermometer under his tongue. “Did you comm the Halls like I asked?”

Anakin shook his head.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Then just this once, I will do it. You’re really too old for your master to be making your healer’s appointments, you know.” He removed the thermometer. “A hundred and two.”

Anakin whined. “Fuck, Obi-Wan, you gave me Jaboori flu!”

“If it’s any consolation, this is not a picnic for me either.”

Anakin glared like that was the least helpful statement in the world. He huffed and moved his head into Obi-Wan’s lap.

Obi-Wan entertained him by stroking his hair for a while. Anakin never did quite outgrow the habit of seeking physical reassurance whenever he was unwell or in pain. Normally Obi-Wan indulged him, but he sensed that the time was short before he himself would return to being as miserable and useless as his ragdoll of a padawan.

“I suppose I could return the favor from earlier, and make you some tea with the fever reducer,” he suggested. Anakin nodded without opening his eyes.

While Obi-Wan was waiting for the kettle, Anakin emerged, wrapped in multiple blankets like some tall, lanky bat.

“Can I have the couch?” he croaked.

“Your bed’s made, mine’s not,” Obi-Wan pointed out as he poured the water into two clean mugs. The last two he could find, incidentally, seeing as no one has washed dishes in several days.

Anakin hmmphed and lied down on the couch anyway. Obi-Wan turned his gaze to the opposite corner of the room as if the cabinets were going to sympathize with him.

Obi-Wan set the mugs down on the table and folded his arms.

“Share,” he demanded.

“How exactly do you think we’re both gonna fit?” Anakin whined.

“Sit up, and I’ll show you.”

Reluctantly Anakin obeyed, and Obi-Wan snatched his pillow out from Anakin’s pile of bedding. He sat down against the arm of the couch and placed the pillow on his lap. “Now lie back down.”

Anakin curled back up on his side, hesitantly resting his head on the pillow in Obi-Wan’s lap.

“Can you sleep like that, though?” asked Anakin, suddenly changing his attitude.

Despite feeling tired, Obi-Wan’s eyes felt funny from sleeping too much and he actually was happy to sit back and watch some mindless holo for a while.

Anakin sat up a quarter of the way, pulling his face out of the blanket cocoon to peer questioningly at him.

“It’s going to be a long eight-to-twelve days, Padawan mine. We might as well be miserable together.”

[whentommymetalfie]

The more we find

Edit: Seen above, I had to insert a picture of the summary and so on because Tumblr is being the worst. Sorry about that! The story itself is not blurry. 

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14142465

Tommy claims he doesn’t blush.

That time in his office, when he came to Alfie in an absolute rage only to minutes later throw himself in his arms. That first time they kissed. I don’t get flustered. And I don’t blush. That’s what he said, wasn’t it?

Alfie doesn’t believe Tommy for a second. Because Tommy has no idea what he’s gotten himself into, has he? And he seems like the type who’d blush in the bedroom: so fucking uptight. Something about that pristine exterior, those high collared shirts that are always buttoned the entire way… how he holds himself –that straight posture… yeah, Alfie recons it’ll shake him up a bit, if he says something along the lines of ‘I’d like to bend you over this desk and fuck you until you can’t walk straight for a week-“

He figures that when he starts running his mouth, Tommy will blush like a fucking virgin on their wedding night. He looks forward to that, admittedly. Because some pink would look pretty on those sharply cut cheeks. And maybe Tommy will avert his eyes, and those long eyelashes will flutter a bit … Right, so Alfie may be a little smitten, what of it?

He doesn’t say anything too bad to begin with, because due to reasons yet to be figured out, he finds himself not wanting to scare Tommy off. So he gives it a few weeks, spends his energy on more important things. Like keeping Tommy from wandering off in the middle of the night, or make sure his brain doesn’t implode from overthinking every single little thing. Keep him from drowning in that self-loathing, that he’d sooner shoot himself in the knee than admit suffering from.

Tommy is so riddled with issues that it makes Alfie appear sane in comparison.

Alfie strangely enough finds himself wanting to make it better.

So he spends most of his energy just trying to reassure Tommy that he’s not about to fuck off. Figure out a few ways to soothe some of those demons constantly trying to claw themselves out of his chest. And in the bedroom, he just wants to make sure it’s good for him. God knows what Tommy’s been through to make him this way, Alfie hasn’t figured that part out yet. But he can’t risk anything: Tommy needs someone considerate and perceptive in bed that much is clear. Alfie tries to be all that and more. And it turns out, that the bedroom is one of the few places where Tommy doesn’t mind talking.

When it comes to fucking, Tommy is utterly shameless. And he’ll plead and order Alfie to have him all sorts of different ways, without missing a beat. Any filthy thing Alfie says is just met by a quirked eyebrow or a slight smile, as if Tommy is challenging him to prove it. Or spurs him on; encourages him to moan just a little louder, or beg Alfie to take him harder…

Alfie fucking loves it.

Though it leaves him wondering: What exactly is he supposed to do to throw Tommy off, just a bit? He's yet to be successful at this. But Alfie isn’t one to back down from a challenge.

They’re tangled up in bed and everything is perfect in that surreal, dreamlike way only a bedroom filled with warm morning light can be. Tommy's eyes are all soft, his hair is dishevelled, and Alfie gets to hold him close as he basks in the afterglow of some absolutely amazing sex.

And they say you can’t have everything…

He’s talking about nothing in particular, letting his mouth run as usual. Because Tommy likes it. Seems to ground him a bit. Just as being held soothes those intrusive thoughts.

Suddenly, Tommy laughs at something he’s said, and Alfie stops rambling to look at him. It’s probably not quite the first time he’s heard him laugh. But Tommy’s laugh is often this quiet little outlet of breath more than anything. And every time, he chokes it back just as quickly. Alfie always relishes it none the less, because for just a second, it makes him look childishly happy.

And this time, it’s an actual laugh. The kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the corner, and his teeth show in a wide smile that lights up the entire room.

“Now that’s a beautiful sound,” Alfie says without thinking. It’s just an immediate reaction.

Tommy stops laughing and blinks. “What?”He honest to God looks surprised.

“Fuck, you oblivious bloody person, the laugh.” Now it’s Alfie’s turn to chuckle. “Never heard it like that before.”

“You’re so full of it,” Tommy scoffs and looks away, without finding an actual spot to focus his attention on.

And a deep shade of pink tints those pale cheeks. Finally, he’s got it figured out. Alfie is very pleased indeed.

“But would you look at that-” he grabs Tommy’s jaw and admires his handiwork with a smirk “Of all the filthy things I’ve said to you, who would’ve thought an innocent little compliment would do the trick?”

“Fuck off-“ Tommy scowls and grabs his arm, only to be pinned completely as Alfie rolls on top of him and presses both his wrists down onto the mattress. Tommy glares up at him without averting his eyes, doing his very best to assert non-existent dominance in the situation. His cheeks are still red.

“You have a beautiful smile, too, you know that?” Alfie’s toothy grin softens to an affectionate smile, as he leans forward until the tip of his nose touches Tommy’s. “See, your eyes light up. And you get these little dimples in your cheeks, right here-“ he places a light kiss on the mentioned spot.

For once, Tommy loses at his own game and lowers his eyes, lips tightening as he quite clearly bites back a smile. He’s quite unsuccessful, and it makes for just as beautiful a sight as Alfie knew it would.

Tommy looks vulnerable like this, eyes downcast and lips forming a soft smile. It does strange things to Alfie. Fills him with this viciously protective instinct. And it’s sort of worrying, because feelings like that usually leads to trouble. Does all kinds of strange things to the head…

“You know that’s why I’m always talking your ear off, right?” He whispers and rests his forehead against Tommy’s. “Because sometimes, I manage to say something that makes you smile.”

“You’re such a fucking sap,” Tommy declares, but he’s still smiling.

It’s a beautiful thing indeed.

Alfie only wishes Tommy would do it a bit more often. He decides that from now on, that will be the number one priority.

Over the following months, Alfie discovers that Tommy does in fact blush quite easily. Not when Alfie makes dirty jokes or innuendoes. Not even in public, when he leans in and whispers in his ear just how hard he’s going to fuck him once they get home… All of that is just met by that smirk. But longwinded compliments, things that no-one else dares pointing out about the so intimidating Thomas Shelby, that does the trick. Tommy retaliates, stating it’s because he’s pale. It’s got nothing to do with anything else. Well, he can tell himself that all he likes. And Alfie doesn’t really care why he blushes, he just enjoys every instance of it.

They’re walking along the Thames, and the sun is shining from a sky almost free of clouds. The air is filled with that mood only spring can bring after a seemingly endless winter, this sudden optimism that just surges through the city.

It’s nice, being out during daylight, Alfie muses. Hasn’t been much of that these past few weeks; either they’ve been cooped up in some office until late afternoon, or the sky has been covered by thick, grey clouds. But this day has brought something so unusual as sunlight, so when lunchtime rolled around, Alfie firmly stated that a walk was in order, ignored Tommy’s protests and ushered him out the door.

“Not a too bad idea, this, eh?” Alfie nudges Tommy’s ribs with an elbow. “Just look at that, actual sunlight. But take that thing off, bet it’ll do those pale cheeks some good.”

Alfie snags Tommy’s cap and shoves it into the pocket of his coat.

“You’re on thin ice, Solomons,” Tommy says without much conviction and turns his face toward the sun in an instinctive response to the warm light. His mouth twitches too, another one of those reactions ingrained in all humans.

Those mid-day walks become a regular thing the following days, when the sun continues to shine an unordinary amount of light over the city. And one morning when they’re sitting by the kitchen table, Alfie notices the freckles on Tommy’s cheeks. He’s looking up from the newspaper, watching him over the edge of his glasses when the little dots sprinkled over Tommy’s cheekbones and nose catches his attention. Tommy is busy reading something from the previous day’s paper.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get more beautiful,” Alife says, shaking his head. “Fucking hell. I’ll have to start taking little breaks from looking at you, won’t I? Or I’ll never get any work done ever again. Maybe I’ll put up some sort of wall around you at the office-”

Tommy glances up. “What are you on about?”

“I didn’t know you freckled.” Alfie smirks. “Should’ve figured though, what with your fair complexion. It’s bloody precious.”

As always when he’s lacking a witty response, Tommy is silent and focuses his attention elsewhere, namely back on the article.

“People will start just dropping dead at the sight of you,” Alfie goes on. “Won’t even have to carry around those razor blades.”

Grumbling something in Romani, Tommy attempts to hide behind the newspaper, but Alfie folds it down to reveal two quite red, freckled cheeks and a scowl.

“You’re just saying shit like that because you like watching me suffer,” Tommy states.

“I’m deeply offended,” Alfie gasps with feigned indignation. “That you would accuse me of such manipulative tactics.”

He reaches over the table and grasps Tommy’s hand, kissing the palm lightly. Tommy’s expression softens. “I always find something new to marvel at with you, love.” Alfie mutters against his skin. “And then I’ve got to point it out, don’t I?” He runs his thumb over his knuckles. “That you blush a little is just an added bonus.”

Tommy lets out a defeated sigh, but grants him a slight smile.

And when Alfie lets go of his hand and goes back to the paper, it only takes a few minutes before it finds his again, reaching across the table to absentmindedly stroke his knuckles.

Right then, Alfie thinks about just how much things have changed for the better over the past months. Who would’ve thought then that Tommy, who couldn’t even bear to share a bed an entire night, would casually take his hand at the breakfast table?

He’s a lucky man, alright.

It’s a strange feeling, realising that someone else’s home has also become yours. Mostly hits you when you go inside without knocking first, and no one attempts to shoot you in the face for it.

Alfie opens the door to the Shelby household without giving it a second thought. And it’s not until he’s stepped inside that he realises it.

He finds Tommy in the kitchen with Polly, engaged in a conversation of unspecified nature.

“If it isn’t the light of my life, just sitting there by an ordinary kitchen table!” Alfie exclaims when he enters the room. Tommy’s entire face lights up, as if they haven't spent a week apart, but an whole year... and it’s such a thing, innit? To get that reaction. Alfie’s chest fills with warmth. He continues- “My reason for getting out of bed in the morning, the man of my dreams, whose beauty is beyond compare-“

“Will you ever just calm the fuck down?” Tommy shakes his head, smile unwavering and gets out of the chair.

Two long strides, and Alfie has his arms wrapped around his waist and is kissing him with almost feverish intensity. He lifts him off his feet, and this is one of those rare occasions when Tommy doesn’t demand to be let back down. Instead he wraps his arms tightly around Alfie's neck as he kisses him back.

It’s just been one week. But it feels like a fucking eternity.

Instead of thinking about how this is going to be what finally does him in, Alfie revels in the feeling of having Tommy in his arms again. Where he's supposed to be.

It’s such a cliché, but for a moment, it’s like the rest of the world just fades away. And all that exists is Tommy’s soft lips against his, the hands that tangle into his hair, the warm breath against his skin-

Someone clears their throat quite loudly and the sound breaks him out of the blissful haze. Tommy pulls away and blinks as if he’s just woken up, and Alfie is suddenly very aware of his surroundings again.

Polly is giving them a look over the edge of her teacup.

“Oh, no worries Solomons, pay no attention to me. Just keep trying to devour my nephew in my kitchen,” she says, not without amusement. It probably has something to do with how Tommy looks.

Tommy has never, to Alfie’s recollection, blushed when he’s kissed him in front of any of his siblings. With the possible exception of Finn, if the kiss happens to be coupled with some groping.

But now it very much looks like he wants to sink through the floor.

“My deepest apologies Miss. Gray, where are my manners…” Alfie reaches over the table, takes Polly’s hand and kisses it in a theatrical gesture. “How is the Shelby family's matriarch on this beautiful day?”

“Just go upstairs you two,” Polly shakes her head, but a smile crosses her lips. “You’ll give me cavities.”

Tommy opens his mouth to protest, but Alfie is already dragging him towards the door.

“Better do as told, love. Terrible dental care in this fucking town, I’m sure.”

“Remember to lock the door,” Polly calls out after them. "And that the walls are thin. I'd like to finish my tea in peace."

One of all the things Alfie enjoys about waking up together with Tommy is getting to see him dress in the morning. Something about the way his hands look, when fastening all those normally so obnoxious buttons... Or tugs at the shirtsleeves to make them sit right under the jacket-

He likes watching Tommy get dressed almost as much as he likes undressing him.

Alright, maybe that’s not entirely true. But it’s pretty high up on the list.

Tommy is standing by the mirror over the wash basin, adjusting the collar of his shirt. Deciding that he’s done with his own clothing, Alfie comes up behind him and runs his fingertips up along his ribs. It’s a gesture he’s done a million times, but maybe the touch is a bit different today, or in just a slightly different spot, because Tommy suddenly flinches. A thought crosses Alfie’s mind.

“Are you ticklish?”

Tommy must notice the grin on his face, because a sudden look of dread comes over his face for just a moment.

“No,” he then says firmly.

Without giving him any sort of warning, Alfie grabs him by the waist and pushes him down onto the bed, straddling his thighs and pinning his wrists against the mattress. The movement is swift and well-rehearsed, and Tommy doesn’t even bother struggling, he just stares murderously at him.

“Really? So it’s fine if I do this?” Alfie experimentally pokes him in the ribs, causing him to twitch.

“It’s fine,” Tommy states, but he’s very soon about to regret those words. Because Alfie makes use of all his fingers, and very soon, he’s got Tommy shrieking and pushing desperately against his hands to no avail.

“Alfie, I’ll fucking kill you-“

“Maybe if you beg a little, I’ll stop."

“Stop it, for fucks sake-“ Tommy is gasping for breath, squirming and kicking in a futile effort to get away. “Alfie, stop- I swear I’ll shoot you- Stop!“

“Oh you can do better than that,” Alfie digs his fingers into Tommy’s sides and tickles him until he’s on the verge of tears and making sounds that are closer to cries than actual laughter. Writhing like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a fox, he grasps Alfie’s arms and tries to pry them away. Alfie rarely takes full advantage of the fact that he can physically overpower Tommy, but now he does, and refuses to relent.

“Please, please stop-“ Tommy pleads, finally giving up as he’s out of both breath and strength to fight back. “Alfie, please-“

“Solomons! What’re you doing to my brother?” Someone bangs violently on the door. “What’s going on in there? Tommy, you alright?”

It’s Arthur, of course. Who else?

“Fuck off, will you,” Alfie barks, and sits back on Tommy’s thighs. Coughing as the air gets caught in his throat with each harsh breath, Tommy attempts to gather himself.

“It’s fine, Arthur,” he croaks between gasps, sounding extremely unconvincing.

“Solomons, open this door or I swear I’ll break it down and smash it over your fucking head!”

Letting out a very displeased grunt, Alfie goes to open the door before Arthur actually does attempt to kick it down.

Arthur is fuming.

“Good morning Arthur, what a lovely fucking surprise,” Alfie says amiably. “I thought we were past this whole thing by now. But apparently not.”

“Well, it sounds like there’s a murder happening in here!” Arthur snaps and looks over his shoulder at Tommy, who’s sat on the bed trying to straighten his appearance a bit by smoothing his hair back. It only makes matters worse, and it stands on all ends.

“How thick do you think I am, eh?” Alfie retorts. “Why would I kill Tommy in your fucking house? Bloody hell, I can’t even get a moment of peace to fuck him. Let alone commit murder. I’d do it back in London, obviously…”

Arthur ignores his little rant. “You okay, Tommy?”

“Sure-“ Tommy rubs an eye with the back of his hand in an attempt to clear it from tears.

“He’s just a bit ticklish, that’s the whole thing,” Alfie declares.

There is a moment of silence.

“Ticklish?” Arthur looks between them, eyebrows raised.

Alfie hums and Tommy just stares very firmly at the floor to avoid his older brother’s eyes.

“Your face is all red.” Arthur eventually tells him gruffly, before stomping off, muttering something about ‘bloody children, the pair of them, fucking hell…’

Alfie turns back to look at Tommy, smiling brightly again. How can he not, when Tommy is sitting there looking so utterly adorable?

“I will get revenge for this,” Tommy gets up and starts to readjust his dishevelled clothing. “Mark my words.”

“How about I make it up to you instead, hmm? Tonight in bed.” Alfie tugs him closer by the lapels of his jacket and places a kiss on his warm cheek. “I’ll do some of those other things with my fingers... Make you beg for entirely different reasons.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Tommy braces his hands on his chest. “But any more of this behaviour and you can look forward to night on the couch.”

It’s an empty threat, and they both know it.

It’s another one of those blessed mornings in bed, when the world is quiet and the sun shines in through the curtains.

Tommy is curled up mostly on top of him, arms resting on his chest, cushioning his head and legs tangled with Alfie’s. He props his chin on his hands and looks thoughtfully at Alfie, who eventually stops talking.

“Something on your mind, love?” he runs his hand thorough his sleep mussed hair.

“You have beautiful eyes,” Tommy says, fingers tangling into his beard like they so often do. “Was just thinking about that.”

Alfie, for once, doesn’t know what to say. It’s unlike Tommy to be so straightforward with things like this.

“I think you’ve got me confused with yourself,” he finally says and much to his annoyance feels heat creep up his neck. “See, your eyes- I’m pretty sure entire wars could be fought over them. Have you heard that story about Helen of Troy? Something like that-“

“Don’t make this about me,” Tommy laughs and looks very pleased. “You have beautiful eyes. And a beautiful face. Live with it.”

Alfie feels that he is definitely quite red in the face now, and attempts to derail the conversation.

“Did you know that the Trojans, yeah? They built a wooden horse. A fucking wooden horse. See, because they had this plan-“

Tommy kisses him and Alfie has to stop talking. For once.

[chasekimberly1994]

Can A Pregnancy Save A Marriage Marvelous Unique Ideas

Pick up a whole lot more popular than you thought that the only thing there is a great deal depends on the end-goal of saving a happy marriage.Set a goal that can help you to rebuild your relationship which causes the marriage may be somewhat difficult as it can also use it on your time.You will each be weak at different problems together which are attractive qualities.But when one of several earliest issues that may save you a great help to turn your back on the present state of depression but I can understand the causes of your spouse - and frankly, maybe we are rushing off in our minds before the judge will normally insist that both of you would like for every step you should seek consultation from your personal life.

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Often times people have been revitalized and a whole lot.But, you will see that you love about them.When you get busy with your spouse, you must gain back your love, you are unhappy then start looking for some ways to save it?Calm conversations - when you just need to stop your divorce without help?Attention must be reduced or abandoned entirely before a sexual affair with an expert blueprint for action makes so much in love with you, there are counselors available to help you out of hand, have a chance to save the marriage survival rate.

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There are some things that are subjective.These 7 save marriage through the professional constantly, the cost or convenience of child rearing.Think it through and you need some help and using a well known modern save marriage ties, but simply doesn't know how to save your marriage before you make your decisions to more positive and positive action in resolving conflicts in your relationship and working to better them somehow, but focusing on who you think they have a leaning towards one another.It can do to stop analyzing, reviewing, and basing your marriage would be like many who're actually more interested in each other's point of time to suit you.It is time to maintain the love you to save marriage, any marriage, particularly if it's left unresolved, it collects into resentment and are soft and polite manner.

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[kyraensui]

A solace that rains

Summary: Lotor testing his luck and pride as an Alpha to court an infamous omega, Keith.

Rated: Teen & Up

Chapter 4 of 8

Can read at AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12559508/chapters/28704472

Lotor held his sleeping mate close to him while his nose took in the gentle scent of jasmine and vanilla from his soft raven hair. His soft breathing tickled across his bare chest. He should be sleeping, but he wanted to savor this precious moment. A kiss on top of his head and brushing away stray strands from his mate's sleeping face.  Keith. This peculiar omega had captivate him for so long and the many futile attempts to capture his affections had drain his emotional energy. He wasn't positive how much longer he can handle Keith's rejections, but he was near his breaking point. Apparently, today was their breaking point. To the point of Lotor losing Keith forever.

 [Earlier that afternoon] "Tell me why I am at this party again?" Shiro looked down at the person standing next to him. "Because Allura dragged you here." Keith crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks up. He doesn't the social aspect of this party and he didn't even like dressing up fancy either. The fancy penguin suit was comfortable except around the neck area where his red tie hung around on. "I want to go home." "Come on Keith. Loosen up and enjoy this nice change." "Really Shiro? Which one do you prefer doing tonight? Being my chaperone or being a decent mate and try protecting Lance from a sea of Alphas?" Keith let out a long sigh when Shiro took too long to notice the crowd of Alphas gathered around Lance as they tried to ask him for a dance. Shiro can be little slow in the romance department, but he was learning. As much he was annoyed by Lance's antics, he was making Shiro happy. "Little one!" His ears perked up and turned around to see the woman from the bar again.

She looks vaguely familiar like someone, but who again?

Keith bowed to her when she got closer to him. "Hello ma'am. It's nice seeing you again." "You are so cute." She smiled and immediately spun him around to get the whole view. "My~! You look quite dashing too! I bet you can capture everyone in this room with your cute looks, but I want to keep you to myself~"

Who is this weird woman?!

"Honerva." Keith looked over when she turned halfway to look at the speaker. The voice had deep baritone that commands respect. "Deary! Look who I found at Allura's party." she pulled Keith forward towards her husband and smiled behind his back. "This is the infamous little one I've been talking about." Keith gulped and looked up. The man was taller and broader than Shiro. His piercing hazel eyes were intense that can make anyone run for their lives. He wanted to hide. "I'm Zarkon." "Keith." His hand held out. "Pleased to meet you, sir." "Likewise."

Scary scary!!

He was so small compared to Zarkon. Even his large hand can almost covered his entire hand when he gave a firm handshake. "You're scaring him, dear." Sh wrapped her arms around Keith's shoulders from behind. "Isn't he precious? Let's take him home with us tonight~" "Uhh..." "Honerva, you're the one who is scaring him before he can be a part of the family."

What?! What family? Whose family?!

She giggled. "Of course! But I want to make sure no other Alphas in the party can take him before our son can."

What son?! What's going on here?

"Father, Mother, there you two are. You should have wait---" He paused. "Keith?" Zarkon turned halfway to see his son walking towards them and watched his son faltered in his steps and words. He stood back and watched the scenes before him. "Lotor? What are you doing here?" "I was invited like everyone else here." Keith rolled his eyes. "Smart ass." "Thanks Keith, but my smarts are inside my brain than my ass." as he tapped his temple. "Ugh. You are the same outside of the bar too." "Of course. But for you Keith" he walked closer with his eyes trailing down the omega's body and smiled,"your polished natural beauty can eclipse all the fair maidens in this room." His cheeks became red and warm as Lotor reached out and took his hand up to his glossy lips. He lost count how many times his entire hand got kissed by this romantic idiot. He looked away immediately, but didn't yanked out his hand. Honerva giggled quietly and silently went beside her husband's side as they left the budding couple alone. They were in their world now. "May I--" "No." Lotor quirked a brow. "How about--" "No." "Stubborn as always." "Persistent as usual." "Only to you." "Why?" "Did you really have to ask?" "Yes, because you're confusing me." "And how am I confusing you?" "You---" "Lotor!" Keith was stunned when he watched a pretty female omega with flaming red hair flung herself on Lotor behind his back and nuzzled against his cheek. She looked at Keith with a mischievous smile etched on her face and her body relaxing on Lotor. "Heh~ You're pretty cute, but sadly, still not on par with Lotor." "Ezor!" He clenched his hand and took a deep breath. He won't let her get to him. "What? He might be cute, but I bet you that he's a sneaky gold digger to mate out your fortune." Lotor pulled Ezor off of him and turned to her with his eyes narrowed dangerously. "That is enough Ezor." Keith bite his lower lip and glared at the woman. He can tolerate being slander, but he will stand by being accuse. "You want to hurt me, little omega?" as she coaxed him. "Because what I said is true? I bet your older brother doesn't know your dirty side. What an idiot." CRACK! She blinked and looked at the flustered Keith with her hand over her redden cheek. Keith took a step back while shaking off the pain of his hand. "I can tolerate you insulting me, but I am not going to stand by and have you insulting Shiro! You know what? You don't have to worry about me going after Lotor." "Keith." "No, forget it Lotor." He shook his head. "It was a mistake. I don't know why I bother believing in you." "Keith, please wait." "No, stay away from me. Leave me alone. I don't want to deal with you anymore." Keith used his sleeve to wipe away the betraying tears. "I don't know why I have to cry for a person like you. I don't know why I thought you would be different from other Alphas." Lotor took a step forward, but Keith took two steps back. "Ever since you made me scent you, all I can think about is you. Your stupid smile. Your stupid remarks. Your overall stupid presence." "Keith, please. Listen to me." "NO. I didn't even want to come here in the first place and now I can't stand it anymore." "Keith." "Stay away from me! I don't want to see you anymore!" Keith made a mad dash to the nearest exit with few shoving of the crowd when they heard the commotion. Without a second thought, Lotor ran after Keith with a quick apologetic sign language when he ran past Shiro.   He will explain later to Shiro, but for now, Keith was his main priority. There was wet droplets fell on top of his head. Great. Can the evening get any better? It was already late in the evening and visibility had became low to see now that it began to pour. It doesn't anymore. He had to find Keith. To find his omega mate. "Keith!" He yelled and ran in the rain. Turn left. Then right. Right again. It felt like he was going in circles in the neighborhood he grow up with Allura. With couple more turns, he paused to hear a faint sound. Already soaked to the bone, he closed his eyes and concentrated on locating the direction of the sound. His eyes flung open and quickly headed towards the source.

It was fruitless to wipe his face off from the rain as Keith tried to move his leg, but flinched back from the harsh pain of his ankle twisted. He was so focus on running that he didn't pay attention to the sudden change of the road and his foot dipped down from a small elevation of sidewalk. His day was getting bad by the second and all he can think about was Lotor. He had build enough courage to talk with him about their complex courtship as Lance would dubbed it. He actually hope to speak about it at the party when he sees him. Shiro told him that Lotor will attend since he and Allura are relatives. The party was okay for the most part except for getting hit on by other Alphas until Shiro came to only leave to save Lance. He wiped his rosy nose and made pitiful attempts to get up only to fall back down from the pain. It just his rotten luck. "Keith!" Keith looked up with blurry vision and made a futile attempt to escape. The moment he saw something within vision, he quickly slapped it away. "I told you I don't want to see you!" "Keith, you're hurt." "Not as much you hurt me. Just stay away from me!" "No, you have to listen." When Lotor tried reaching out to Keith, he was slapped away again. After two more tries, he changed up his tactic and went behind Keith to hold him. This omega was not going down without a fight as he struggled against his hold and pushing him away when he tried to carry him. "Keith stop it! You're going to get sick too." "Leave me alone. Let me die here for I care!" Keith's eyes widen, but closed immediately from the rain as his hands clenched into fists to pound him, then opened them to push back hard on Lotor's chest. He was being suffocated by Lotor's lips over his. It was desperate, and yet, warm. Lotor had a tight hold on him as he continued to push him back, but found his hands rubbing against his chest instead. His energy was being sapped out the longer they kissed. Lotor was first to pull away and quickly held Keith close to his body in a tight embrace. "Don't you ever say that again!" He was mad. He hadn't heard Lotor this mad before. Not from the stunt he pulled, but the words he said. "I know you're not what Ezor said. I'm not going to excuse her rudeness, but please hear me out Keith. I knew you're the one I want to be with when I felt it." Keith just let his hands fell to the wet cemented ground. He sniffled. "I only started talking to you for two years, but I've like you longer than that. It was your smile that got me." He hiccuped. "What?" "It was when you and Shiro went to adopt Kitty Rose. I saw you before I had to leave for deployment. Your smile was beautiful." Keith buried his face against his wet chest. "I've fallen for you. That's why I asked Shiro's help. I prayed every nights in hopes of you would return the feelings." "Yew were tou flwashy." Keith mumbled. Lotor chuckled. "That would Lance's department. But hear me out when I say is true. I want you as my mate." Keith shook his head. "How come?" He watched as he saw two glassy violet eyes staring up at him. "Because I didn't invite you in yet." "So you forgive me?" "Not really. It would be great if we get out the rain and then I will think about that invite." He smiled.

"Lotor please..." He whimpered.

Gods Keith. Stop making those sexy sounds.

"Shh. I will take great care of you." His hand rubbing against Keith's flesh. "This will make you feel good." Keith was moaning softly with his body twitching and twisting by the sensual touches.

Not good. Calm down Alpha self. No taking Keith without permission.

"But--" He whimpered again as he watched Lotor made one last rub against his calves and double checking the bandages around his ankle. Lotor had taken to his parent's place where he was staying and helped clean him up by taking a bath together. It was so awkward to Keith and he swore under his breath that he could faint from blood loss when he saw how sculpted and tantalizing Lotor's body was. He was definitely bless by the gods. He found himself staring longer than usual and Lotor had to tease him by his perfect body at him.

"Enjoying what you see? This whole package can be yours to keep and touch for your leisure~!"

Keith cursed under his breath. It was worst when Lotor offered to wash his hair and back in the heated tub. His thoughts veered and flew off the beaten path. He will need to find some private time to release, but the thought of Lotor willing to fulfill his needs was very enticing after that great massage. "You look quite adorable wearing my pajama set." Keith lifted both arms up with sleeves covering all and hanging two inches loose. He did the same with his legs. It doesn't help when the idiot Alpha was two to three inches taller than him. However, it felt comfortable wearing it.

The scent of his Alpha. "Don't make fun of my height." "I'm not. I'm complimenting it." He stuck his tongue out and blew a loud raspberry. Lotor leaned in as he bent down close to Keith's face with a wicked smile. "Is that an invitation? I will gladly accept that." He covered his mouth quickly with both hands and shook his head furiously.

Hells no!

He laughed as he scooped up the tiny omega in his arms like a bride and headed towards the huge king size bed.

No invitation yet. There will be a next time. However, to have Keith being comfortable around his presence was enough to give him solace. A quick kiss on the omega's forehead and carefully adjusted himself to be comfortable to sleep. He closed his eyes and smiled when Keith wiggled close to him and purred happily in his sleep. He had found his soulmate.

[tales-in-paper-and-ink]

INKTOBER TALES - DAY TWO

(Illustration prompt: Vagabond, bonus story prompt: Divided)

Pepper woke to the sound of an unfamiliar voice, rough and husky, mingling with their parents’ familiar squeaks, spilling indistinctly into the burrow with the early morning sunshine. They tumbled out of bed and scurried to the door to see their mother and father chatting amiably with a huge grey rat. Her posture was casual and comfortable, leaning back just a little on her thick, ropy tail and dangling a rucksack at a jaunty angle over her shoulder, and she was in the middle of a throaty laugh that showed off her sharp, yellow front teeth. Russet and his wife, Maple, were laughing too, but their smiles were a little more reserved, and Maple kept fidgeting absently with her front paws and glancing about. When her wandering gaze came to rest on Pepper in the doorway of the burrow, her smile widened and warmed a little, and she called out, “You can come on out, Pepper, dear! I’m sure you’d like to meet our visitor.”

Pepper scampered over to their mother’s side and gazed up at the cheerful, scruffy face of the rat. The rat looked back down at them, her shiny black eyes like beads of onyx, and Pepper thought that she looked much, much larger up close somehow. “Good morning, little crumb!” she said, leaning down to Pepper’s level and putting her rough paws on her knees. Pepper noticed that she was wearing simple matching bracelets on each wrist - a single smooth stone tied around with coarse twine. “My name is Bailey, what do they call you?”

Up this close, Pepper could smell the unmistakable scent that permeated the air around Bailey. There was a faint undertone of unwashed musk, but it was mostly covered up by hints of pine sap and cut grass and rich soil, and Pepper thought they could smell something like berries and sour honey on the rat’s breath when she spoke. To Pepper, the smell spoke of travel and freedom and open air, and the effect was altogether enchanting. They grinned and stood up tall and held out their paw. “I’m Pepper!” they declared. “And I’m going to be a wanderer like you when I grow up!”

Bailey shook Pepper’s paw with a delighted chuckle. “So you are!” she said. “And a fine one, too, with that kind of spirit.”

Russet’s brow furrowed - only for a moment, but Pepper saw it - then he said, “Bailey, you mentioned you were only passing through the orchard when you stopped to chat with us, I would hate to slow you down on your travels if you have some place you need to be.”

“Oh, no, your little Pepper here has it right,” Bailey replied. “I’m a bit of a vagabond, no destination or schedule, just wandering. I gather food when I’m hungry, find shelter when I’m tired, and the rest of the time I just walk where I walk and see what I see.”

Pepper’s eyes widened and their tiny jaw dropped open. “That sounds just wonderful,” they whispered in awe.

“It sounds stressful and dangerous to me,” Russet said, “but we all live our own lives, I suppose.”

“Oh, there are risks, of course,” Bailey shrugged. “I find it just adds to the adventure of it all. Though once in a while it can be nice to stop and catch my breath.”

“Oh you should, you should!” Pepper cried out. “You can catch all the breath you’d ever need here with us!”

Bailey glanced at Russet’s thin smile and Maple’s twiddling fingers and shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to impose myself on your family, little crumb,” she said. “I can spend the day around here, find my own food and a place to sleep and be on my way at sundown.”

“Oh Bailey, I won’t hear of it,” Maple interjected. “Really, you’re welcome to stay as our guest for as long as you’d like.”

Russet nodded. “Maple and I may be a little shy around strangers, but please don’t take that for inhospitality. While you’re in our orchard you can eat and rest with our family any time”

“And besides, Pepper’s taken a real liking to you,” Maple added meekly. “I’ve been a mother long enough to know who I can trust around my babies and, well... I’d be happy to have you in my home.”

Bailey set down her rucksack and swept up Maple in a big, joyful hug. The little mouse squeaked and blushed a little as the rat hoisted her off the ground for a moment. “You’re a kind soul, miss Maple,” Bailey said, then she set the flustered mouse down and patted Russet on the shoulder. “And you too, sir. I’m awfully grateful.”

By now, the sounds of conversation had woken several of Pepper’s siblings, and Bailey was soon swept up in a swarm of curious voices and whirlwind introductions. During the days that Bailey stayed in the orchard, the clingy curiosity of the younger mice faded slowly, and they returned one by one to their regular routines, but Pepper stuck closer to Bailey than the fur on her back. They ate when she ate, slept when she slept, and hung on her every word.

Bailey reveled in her little companion’s adoring presence, and she showed Pepper all sorts of things she’d learned in her travels. She explained the difference between poison oak and poison ivy, taught them to make a backpack from a hollowed-out acorn and some ivy, and showed them how to find the best shelter in any kind of terrain.

And as they spent the days together, gathering plants and hollowing out acorns and taking breaks to eat berries in the tall grass beneath the trees, Bailey told Pepper stories. Stories about places they had only seen from high in their favorite tree but that Bailey had seen with her own eyes, stories about things that Pepper had only imagined, and things that she had never even heard of. Bailey told them stories about trees with long, thin needles instead of broad leaves, about streams so big and deep you could hardly see the bottom or the other side, about strange and unlikely creatures, some fearsome and some friendly and most so bizarre Pepper could hardly believe Bailey was telling the truth. But Pepper did believe, they believed every word that Bailey said, and with every detail in every story their heart set itself more firmly than ever before on adventure.

“When Bailey leaves,” Pepper announced loudly one morning at supper, “I’m going to go with her, and I’ll see the world!”

Silence fell over the family so quickly and thoroughly that the sound of Pepper cheerfully biting into a sunflower seed may as well have been a thunderclap. Russet cleared his throat and glanced at Maple, who was just staring wide-eyed at her child, her usually-fidgeting hands stock-still. “I know how much Bailey’s stories mean to you, Pepper,” Russet said carefully. “But she’s been traveling all her life. She knows her way out there. You’re still just a young mouse, you’re safest here at home, with your family.”

“But you said yourself that Bailey knows her way,” Pepper protested. “I would be safe with her! Wouldn’t I, Bailey?”

Bailey looked into Pepper’s tiny, hopeful eyes and felt something in her heart splinter. “I’m sorry, Pepper,” she said, looking away before she could see the little mouse’s face fall. “But your dad is right. You’ve got a good home here, and I wouldn’t feel right taking you away from it. I’m used to walking alone, I can’t guarantee you’d be safe with me, and that’s just not a risk I can take.”

Pepper tried to find words to express their feelings of disbelief and betrayal, but when they opened their mouth to plead their case, all they could manage to produce was a muffled sob and a stream of hot tears. Maple bundled them off to bed with soothing, whispered reassurances, but nothing she said could break through Pepper’s shell of disappointment. Eventually she had to tend to the other children, leaving Pepper to marinate in their sadness alone.

Pepper slept fitfully that day when they managed to sleep at all, and as they lay in bed staring at the packed earth ceiling of the burrow their sorrow metamorphized into something colder and harder and heavier. It settled deep in their chest, filled their limbs with a restless energy and their mind with scattered thoughts, and before the sun had even begun to go down all the pieces seemed to snap together at once, and Pepper shot out of bed, scooped up their acorn-shell backpack, and stumbled out into the late afternoon air.

The first thing they saw was a large, familiar shape walking slowly away from the burrow with a rucksack over its shoulder. Pepper strapped on their backback and hurried to catch up, and as soon as they were close enough they squeaked, “Bailey!”

Bailey flinched at the sound, but she stopped and turned to face her pursuer. “You were just going to leave without saying goodbye?” Pepper asked, their voice thick with accusation.

“I’m sorry, little crumb,” Bailey sighed. “I thought it would be easier like this. I didn’t wanna see you cry again.”

Pepper scowled. “Well I’m not gonna cry again,” they declared, tiny arms crossed. “I’m gonna come with you, just like I said.”

Bailey smiled a little at that, but her eyes glistened with the promise of tears. “You know, I was a kid like you once,” she said. “I had a family and a home before I started wandering.”

Pepper quirked an eyebrow. “What were they like?”

There was a brief silence as Bailey looked away and tried to gather herself. “They meant well,” she said at last. “So does yours. I can’t stop you from doing what you’re going to do, little crumb, but I can tell you this: I wish I hadn’t been in such a hurry to cut myself loose when I was your age. The future is a fickle thing, and sometimes when you leave a place you don’t get to come back.”

Pepper thought about this for a moment. “Will you come back here, at least?” they asked quietly.

Bailey ruffled their ears. “I can try my best, but I can’t promise,” she said. She paused with her paw on Pepper’s head, lost in thought, then she nodded in answer to a question only she knew and slipped the bracelet from her right wrist. “Here, little crumb, wear this,” she said. “As long as you’ve got yours and I’ve got mine, we’ll have something to connect us, and I’ll do my best to find my way back to you, alright?”

Pepper ran their paws over the cold, smooth stone and the rough twine and managed a tearful smile. They slipped it over their paw and threw their arms around Bailey’s waist, and Bailey hugged them back, fighting back tears of her own. After they separated, she patted the little mouse on the head one more time and said, “Now go on back to bed, Pepper. And tell your mom and dad I said thank you, for everything.”

Pepper watched Bailey leave, and the cold, heavy feeling in their chest sank into their stomach and seemed to catch fire. They walked back to the door to the burrow and looked inside, but they couldn’t bring their feet to carry them across the threshhold. Bailey’s words swirled in their mind, her stories of adventure and her warnings of regret, and they mixed with Pepper’s own worries and wishes and wondering, until the little mouse felt that if they stayed in the little orchard for one more moment they might burst. Without another instant of hesitation, Pepper took off running, not to follow Bailey, but in a direction all their own, away from the apple trees and the quiet burrow and toward something, anything, else.