#I was only half paying attention cuz I’m listening to family discussion

[the-crimson]

I feel like Bad’s bed time story about one character destroying their only friend to achieve their goals alone then regretting it may have a deeper meaning guys… just a little bit O.O

[celosiaa]

Oh! And! What happens the time Jon inevitably faints in class? All the teachery Jon bits make me so happy cuz I am nothing if not a giant projector.

Hey guess what!! I wrote a lil fic about this instead of studying!

(big thanks to @taylortut who helped me work out the details and keep me informed!! you’re the bees knees <3)

Just as a reminder to everyone: in this AU, Jon is a professor, has EDS/POTS, a service dog named Iris, and a niece named Molly (Tim and Sasha’s adopted daughter). Molly happens to be a student in his class this semester. I hope you will enjoy <3

“Now, when we think about what’s coming next—as I assume you are all at least somewhat familiar with the story of Oedipus—you can clearly see this foreshadowing of the downfall played out in every line. This lends itself well into one of the elements of classical tragedy, as we’ve discussed: hubris—or in Ancient Greek, “ὕβρις.”  If you look back at the first antistrophe of chorus two it is quite clear—”

God, just slow down.

Pencil working furiously over her notepad, Molly’s frustration quickly grows as she listens to her Uncle Jon talking faster and faster, barely able to keep up with the page flipping and the hand raising and whatever infernal Greek word he’s written on the board now.

Should never have taken this class, she can’t help but think, reaching up for a moment to rub at her eyes beneath her glasses.  Some part of her had thought it might be fun, might serve as a fantastic opportunity to tease him at family dinners—but he talks so damned fast, she often cannot even look up to see if anything amusing is happening.

It’s very irritating.

Nearly lost in the scratching of her pencil and the endless drone of his voice, she barely catches the sound of Iris’s collar jingling as she stands and pads over to the center of the room, where Jon stands lecturing.

Can’t be good.

Notes instantly forgotten, Molly picks up her head to watch—seeing Iris lick his hand in what she knows is an alert for him to sit down at once.  Of course, as Uncle Jon tends to do, he remains too distracted by whatever passionate point he’s trying to make, simply continuing to motion fervently at the board.

Please sit down, please sit down, Molly thinks, her leg beginning to bounce with worry as Iris carries on licking and nipping at his hand, and he carries on ignoring her.

You’re going to fall.

And sure enough, after a few more moments of this, he cuts off his long monologue rather suddenly in favor of leaning against the wall, blinking rapidly as his knees start to wobble.

“Sit down, Uncle Jon,” Molly says loudly from her seat, wanting more than anything than to get up and lower him to the floor—but he had asked his students not to, and so she wants to respect his instructions. And save herself a chewing out.

But with every second that passes, he wavers more and more, and Iris barks at him—he doesn’t quite make it, half sliding down to sit against the wall—but really, more falling than anything.  

Damn it.  

As soon as he hits the ground, Iris is on top of him, lying across his chest as a way of bringing blood back up to his brain, helping him to regain consciousness more quickly.  Molly’s classmates immediately start up a low hum of commotion, mostly filled with gasps and expressions of worry—until one arsehole grabs his backpack, and ducks quickly out of the room now that the professor is on the floor.

Oh, I’ll kill him, Molly decides at once, such rage filling her as she glances between his fleeing back and where her uncle lies.  As she directs her focus back toward him, he awakens with a gasp—immediately grimacing and pressing a hand to the back of his head.

Damn it all.

Solemnly accepting that he might be beyond angry with her for it, she can’t help but go to him now that he’s clearly smacked his head on something.  She grabs her packed lunch along the way—ready to offer him either juice or ice.  Both, perhaps, if necessary.

“Hey, Uncle Jon,” she says as gently as she can, coming to crouch near him, where Iris still lies on top of him.  “Need some ice?”

“N-no, I—“ he rubs his hand over the back of his head one more time, as if to make sure.  “I think I’m alright.”

“That’s good.  I’ve got some juice you can have, if you can sit,” she says, pulling a bottle of apple juice from her bag and shaking it, twisting the lid open for him as he moves to sitting—and Iris moves to lie across his thighs instead.

“Thank you,” he mutters as she hands it to him, sipping at it slowly.  “You can go back to your seat now.”

“I’d like to see you get up first.”

The glare she receives in return may be nothing in comparison to many she has been on the receiving end of in the past, but it’s enough to tell her he is irritated, all the same.

“If that’s okay with you,” she adds quickly, hoping to deflate him a bit—and it seems she was successful, as he nods his assent, screwing the top back on the bottle.

Stepping back at once, she watches carefully as Jon directs Iris to sit near him, then braces against both her and the wall as he stands.  She does not move until she sees him cross the room to the chair at his desk, coming to sit cross-legged upon it to keep the blood from pooling in his legs again.

Satisfied, Molly returns to her seat—offering a glare to her classmates as she does, silently challenging any of them to say an errant word about it.

“Right,” Jon begins again from the front of the room, voice a bit thin, before starting again.  “Right.  Could someone please remind me of where we were?”

“The first antistrophe of chorus two, Professor.”

“Thank you, Rowan.  Allow me just a moment, please,” he says in his very best professional tone, causing Molly to roll her eyes at once as he slips back into his “annoying professor” mode.

Why the hell am I in this class?

“Alright.  Let’s pick back up there again—and please pay attention to the foreshadowing of hubris as we go.  Would you be so kind as to read for us, please, Anna?”

“Yes, sir.”

Thankful to at least have a moment’s reprieve from note-taking as her classmate reads, Molly takes the time to look back up at Jon—who is now drinking the juice she had offered readily, quite a bit less ashen than in the previous few minutes.  As if sensing her eyes on him, he turns to meet her gaze, and she suddenly fears his scowl as a rebuke for not paying attention—but he only offers her a soft smile, and a nod of silent thanks that she cannot help but return.

You know I’ve got you, she thinks—for once, hoping that he would read her mind and find it there.

She could never say such a dreadfully mushy thing aloud.

[calpalirwin]

Heart Wins

Summary: Single dad Michael hires a babysitter for his son.

A/N: Not the collab! Ha! Could you imagine?

Word Count: 2.4k

And away, and away we go!

__

“So, I would just need someone to watch him during the day so I can get some studio time in,” Michael told Maya. “I mean, he’s pretty lowkey. Likes to swim in the pool, watch cartoons, basic little kid stuff. I’ll try to keep my schedule as regular as possible, but there might be times I’ll ask you if you can stay later or even help me out on weekends if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem,” Maya smiled. “And the studio is where?”

“Here, mostly. We try to do what we can at our own places before paying out the ass for ‘professional’ studio time. And since I have Tidus, we usually work here. I just can’t be focused on working with them and watching Tidus at the same time. I mean, it’s not glorious or anything on your end. But, like I said, the kid’s pretty lowkey. And you’ll have the run of the place, so feel free to do whatever. But yeah… any, uh, questions?”

“Um, no I don’t- oh! What happens when you go off on tour?”

“I double your pay?” Michael laughed. “Honestly, I’m not too sure. I’m not set to leave anywhere for about another four months, so if you haven’t run for the hills for something better we can discuss it more then?”

Maya nodded, looking around the house wondering why on Earth she would ever want to give up a sweet ass job like this. “Works for me.”

“Alright,” Michael said, clapping his hands against his thighs and standing up. “I guess I’ll just show you where Tidus is, and leave you guys to it.”

She followed him through the house, up the stairs to a bedroom that had been converted into a playroom. A little boy of no more than 3 or 4 sat in the middle of a comfortable looking couch, his attention held by the cartoon playing on the large television. “Ti,” Michael got the boy’s attention. “This is Maya. She’s gonna watch you for a bit. Can you say hi?”

“Hi,”

“Hey, bud. Whatcha watchin’?” she asked, moving around to sit beside him.

“Pokemon!”

“Oh, cool! I love Pokemon. Who’s your favorite?”

“Pikachu.”

Michael smiled. “Alright, Ti. Maya’s the boss.”

“‘Kay.”

“I’ll be in the basement if you need me for anything,” Michael directed the statement at Maya. “Other than that, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you, Michael.”

~~~

“Maya,” a small voice whispered. “Psst… Maya!”

“Mmm? Wha?” Maya asked, yawning and opening her eyes to find a pair of light green eyes peering back at her under a cloud of soft yellow hair. “AAAHHHH!” She retreated to where her bed met the wall. “Tidus, are you tryin’ to kill me?!”

The six year old laughed. “Sorry… Dad said I wasn’t supposed to wake you…”

“But why would you do a silly thing like listen to your dad?” she questioned with her own laugh.

“Exactly! He’s not the boss of me. You are!”

“Nice save, kid.” She threw back the covers and sat up. “You want pancakes don’t ya?”

“Yes, please!”

“Alright. Your dad in the studio with your uncles?”

“They were there all night!” Tidus told her dramatically as they walked downstairs to the kitchen.

She frowned as she tried to remember what time her phone had said when she finally heard Michael’s footsteps on the stairs and the close of his door. Close to 2 am she was sure. And he’d probably only slept for a few hours before heading back down. He probably hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, too close to a break through with the newest album to focus on much else. “Do you think they’re hungry?” she asked the boy.

“We’re gonna have to make the whole box,” Tidus giggled.

“Then let’s make the whole box.”

“Can we make a bunch of different kinds?!”

“Of course we can!”

“Whoohoo!”

A half hour and at least six different types of pancakes later, Maya and Tidus made their way to the basement studio. Tidus carefully carried the stack of plates while Maya held the platter of assorted pancakes, a bottle of syrup tucked under her arm. “Knock knock!” they yelled loudly. “Special delivery!” Maya kept up with it as she let them into the room.

The four adult men turned their heads at the intrusion. “That’s a lot of pancakes,” Michael spoke first, stepping forward to help Tidus with the plates before he dropped them.

“Yeah, we went a little overboard,” Maya responded, setting down the platter on the little table in the room. “Figured you guys must be starving.”

“You figured right. Thanks.”

“Oh, I just made the food. Was Ti’s idea.”

“Ti…” Michael said sternly to his son. “I told you to let her sleep.”

“But you said Maya was the boss. You never said I had to listen to you, too.”

Ashton, Calum, Luke, and Maya snickered into their hands as Michael’s green eyes went wide for a second. “What are you? An elephant?”

Tidus put his arm against his nose like a trunk and made his best elephant noise.

“Well in the future, Elephant Boy, you should listen to me, too. I am your dad after all.”

“10-4, boss man!” the boy chirped.

“What in th-?” Michael chuckled, looking over at Maya.

“No idea, boss man,” Maya laughed back. “Well…” she gestured at all the food. “Dig in!”

~~~

“So,” Calum asked, wiping away the last traces of sticky syrup after Maya and Tidus made their way back upstairs. “How long has Maya been watching Ti?”

“Uh…” Michael thought quickly. “‘Bout two years.”

“Mhm… And how long has she lived here?”

“She moved in right after the first tour, so a little over a year.”

“And she’s good with Ti?”

“Oh, she’s great with him. I’d be lost without her.”

“So, you’ve known her for two years. She’s lived with you for one. And she’s great with your kid,” Calum recapped.

“Yeah… That’s what I just said.”

“What Cal’s trying to say,” Ashton cut in, “is have you slept with her yet? And if not, can he?”

“What the fuck?!” Michael screeched at the same time Calum shoved Ashton with a “That is not my question!”

“Is too! Maybe not the sleeping with her yourself part. But the first part’s true. We’re all wondering, mate,” Luke piped up.

“What the fuck?!” Michael repeated, looking at his friends, slack jawed. “What kinda question is that? No, I haven’t slept with her!”

“Why not?”

“She’s Ti’s babysitter!”

“So?”

“So I’m basically her boss, you nitwits! I’m not fuckin’ the babysitter,” he growled.

“Alright, alright,” the other three held up their hands in surrender.

“And neither are any of you lot!” Michael added.

~~~

“Hey, Maya?” Tidus asked as they watched cartoons.

“Yeah, bud?”

“My dad goes on dates, right? To find me a mom?”

She blinked. She had been expecting him to ask if they could go swimming,or play with Legos, not have the Mom conversation. “Uh… well… yeah, your dad goes on dates. But he’s not trying to replace your mom.”

“No, I know that. But like, he’s trying to find someone that would love us like a mom would. Right?”

“Right. He just wants someone who’s gonna love you as much as he does.”

“So, why doesn’t he take you out on a date?”

Maya choked. “Uh… it’s not that simple, bud.”

“Well, why not? I mean, you’re here. And you don’t get mad at me when I wake you up to make pancakes. And you take me swimming, and watch cartoons with me. And you help in my classroom like all the other moms. Is it cuz you don’t love me?”

“What?! Of course I love you, you goof!”

“So, why can’t you date Dad and be my mom?”

Maya sighed. “It’s not that simple, Ti. Your dad and I have a different relationship.”

“Oh… Will you still stay if I do get a mom?”

“Of course I’ll stay!” she told him, even though she really had no way of knowing. She supposed it would depend on what the new woman did for a living herself, and how comfortable she would be with Maya staying in the house.

“Cool. Cuz me and Dad really like you here.”

“Dad and I,” she corrected absentmindedly.

“Dad and I,” he repeated. “Do you like being with us?”

“No place I’d rather be,” she grinned at him.

~~~

Michael’s head swam with his conversation with his bandmates. Yes, him and Maya got along with each other. Yes, Michael had come to view the woman as not only an integral part of his life, but also as part of the family. Maya had been there for every moment him and Tidus had over the last two years. And she was pretty in a way that often left him breathless, whether she was in a tank top and pajama bottoms with her hair slightly ruffled from sleep, or totally dolled up in a way befitting of magazine covers. But this wasn’t some friendship that could handle a little awkwardness. There were so many ways things could go with too many options for how it could end, each one worse than the last. And to risk it all over a maybe crush? No. It was far better to keep his mouth shut.

Unbeknownst for Michael, Maya’s own head had been swimming with her own equally conflicted thoughts that matched his own. “Hey, Michael,” her soft voice greeted him in the dark hallway.

“Shit!” he whisper-screamed, hand flying to his chest. “Fuck… didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya…”

“Nah, it’s…” he shook his head. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” it was her turn to shake her head. “Was just about to turn in.”

“Oh… well, night then.”

“Night,” she murmured, feeling his body brush past hers. “Hey, Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“Um… can we talk a moment? Ti said something earlier that you should probably be aware of.”

“Yeah, course. C’mon, we can talk in here.” He led them both into his bedroom, flicking on the light. “Is everything alright?” he asked as he sat on the edge of his bed, patting the space next to him.

“Oh, it’s not bad! Just… curious,” she told him as she sat beside him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he mentioned you dating.”

“Aw, shit… I guess I didn’t explain that to him as well as I thought I did…”

“No, no,” Maya shook her head. “He understands. Well, as much as any six year old can anyway. It’s, uh… well he brought up something that I just can’t seem to shake.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… um… and I’m not asking to put you on the spot or anything. It’s just…”

“Curious?” he supplied.

“Yeah. Um… what happens when one of these women becomes your long-term girlfriend or wife? Like… what would that mean for me?”

Michael leaned back on his arms. “Shit… Tidus came up with that?”

“Well, he asked if I would stay. I sort of filled in the rest.”

Michael nodded. Then, “What would you do? If it weren’t for this, what would you be doing?”

She shrugged. “Probably teach. I don’t think I’d have it in me to get invested in another family like I am with you guys.”

He nodded again. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to see you go.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He smiled before laughing. “Aw shit. That explains a lot actually.” He kept laughing.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, not getting the joke.

“I’m the single dad with a live-in babysitter. No wonder all my dates end horribly.”

“Oh geez!” she laughed with him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. That’s just…”

“Utterly ridiculous?”

“That’s terrible. Like this is my job. Sorry it’s ruining your dates.”

“Nah, it’s not your fault. Guess some people are just immature. Like I couldn’t possibly resist the temptation of having a beautiful woman in my home.”

“Beautiful woman?” she blinked, turning her head to look at Michael with his flushed cheeks.

“I- I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushed. “I mean, you are. Beautiful. But I- no. I should stop talking now.”

“No. What were you gonna say?”

“Well… I mean I pay you to be here. It’s not like you’re here because you want to be. I mean, maybe you do now. I hope anyway. But, like you’re here because you’re doing a job. If I wasn’t paying you I doubt you’d stay.”

“Well I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t pay me because I already feel bad enough you let me live here rent free. Not because I don’t want to be here.”

“Well, I appreciate the sentiment. But, this is all hypothetical. I need to find a girl who won’t run away once she realizes what my life really entails first.”

Maya brought a finger to her lips in thought. “Hmm… yeah, good luck with that one.”

Michael laughed. “Yeah. So if you have any friends who are understanding like you, lemme know.”

She laughed with him. “Sorry. Just me, I’m afraid.”

“Bummer…”

“Ouch!” She swatted his arm playfully. “You’d be lucky to have me.”

“I am lucky to have you,” he corrected. “But… we…” he pointed back and forth between them. “It’d be stupid.”

“Terribly stupid,” she sighed in agreement. “Or at least that’s what I told Tidus when he asked. Well, I said it wasn’t simple. But same thing.”

Michael choked. “He asked you what?”

“He asked why you didn’t take me out. Since how you’re trying to find a woman that loves him as much as you do.”

“Shit… how’d that kid get so smart?”

“No idea,” she joked. “Must be his babysitter.”

“Can’t be me, that’s for damn sure. If I was smart, I’d know what to do right now.”

“What's your brain saying?”

“To shut up, go to bed, and to keep trying to make it work with other women the way it already works with you so I don’t fuck up a good thing.”

“And your heart?”

“To take the risk anyway because at least then maybe I’ll have a clear answer.”

“And which are you gonna listen to?”

“No idea.”

“That makes two of us.” Maya patted his leg as she stood up. “G’night, Michael.”

“Wait,” he said, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. “Two of us? You feel this way too?”

“Course I do. But that doesn’t matter. Does it?”

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself, tugging on her wrist so she fell down on his lap. “Heart wins.” His fingers stroked gently up her cheeks as he cradled her face in his hands, his lips brushing against hers.

She sighed into the kiss, tangling her own fingers in his soft hair, changing positions so she was straddling his lap. “Heart wins,” she agreed against his lips, as she started to pull away. “We can figure out the rest later.”

“Agreed,” he nodded frantically, green eyes shining brightly. “Fuck, c’mere.”

__

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[cherryblossomcheesecake]

Stop Kissing Boys in the Street - a nyxnoct oneshot

A/N: So like, this is major au, cuz a) no war for the sake of this thing working out so therefore ppl know what noct looks like, b) this pairing is au, and c) if this pairing was canon, daddy regis' reaction would not be this, but like i said, au and this is good song about growth and acceptance, so we're going with it. The nickname nyx calls noct (myshka) is used other writers for this pairing, so it isn’t my original idea, I just used it since everyone on this mircoship has sorta adopted it?  Anyways, I hope you enjoy cuz this became way bigger than I intended it to be lmao. Drop me an ask if you wanna see a specific type of fic from me, I’m open for requests.

Master List

Regis found out through the citadel grapevine. Servants gossiping during their shifts was nothing new, usually pertaining to the scandals of Insomnia celebrities, and rarely caught the attention of the king as he travelled from one meeting to the next. However, the passing of his son’s name from their lips made him pause in the hall, listening intently to what they had to say.

“Did you hear about the Crown Prince skulking about the city in the evening?” one servant tittered to her companion, receiving a gasp in response.

“No, you’re not saying that the prince was one of those two teenagers who were spotted kissing in the alley by the citadel?!”

“That’s what a guard told me.” the servants’ voices faded off into the distance as they continued on with their duties. The king adjusted his grip on his cane, continuing to walk onwards to his next meeting, disregarding the women's’ gossip. If his son was seeing a girl, he would know.

A mistake on his part.

The gossip reached his ears a second time, from a council advisor, who approached the king and his shield with a group of fellow nobles after a meeting.

“Your majesty, I’m not sure if you’re aware of the rumours surrounding your son, but perhaps you could clear it up for us.” the man questioned, arms folded tightly behind his back.

Regis turned towards him, shifting his weight from his bad leg before giving the advisor his full attention.

“There have been instances where an individual resembling the prince has been spotted out in the streets of Insomnia at night. More often than not, in the company and embrace of men.”

The king froze, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ as he thought back to the servants gossiping a few days ago. When they had mentioned two teens, they had meant two boys, something that Regis had not been anticipating.

Regis could only smile calmly, hiding his shock and anger beneath his mask. “Forgive me, councilor, but I don’t pay much attention to rumours as they rarely hold any truth to them.” the king replied, staring down at the advisor, who continued to stand his ground.

“Of course, but every rumour has a grain of truth to it, your majesty.” the man stated, offering a short bow before walking away, leaving Regis to process this new information.

Noctis hadn’t been expecting a confrontation at dinner, he hadn’t even been aware of the rumours surrounding him. When his father appeared in the private dining room for dinner, he could sense the calm before the storm. The prince kept quiet, knowing his father would speak when he was ready.

The king began calmly, as if he was discussing something as simple as the weather.

“There have been some interesting rumours circulating the citadel as of late, Noctis. Have you caught wind of them yet?”

Noctis tensed slightly, unsure of the direction this conversation was headed in.

“No, I haven’t. You always taught me rumours weren’t worth listening to unless someone brings it to your attention.” the dark-haired teen answered carefully, pushing his food around his plate.

“Well, this was interesting enough for a member of the council to speak to me about it, considering it had something to do with you and an unnamed boy.”

Noctis froze as the words fell from his father’s lips, staring down at his plate with wide eyes. Silence filled the room, the sound of the prince’s fork hitting his plate echoing in the high ceiling.

“I-uh….” Noctis scrambled for an answer, avoiding his father’s green eyes as he frantically tried to come up with an explanation.

Regis continued to speak in a calm tone of voice that oozed a deep disappointment and anger, a tone he rarely ever used with his son.

"Tell me, Noctis. How am I supposed to answer when the council tells me my son, my only heir, was kissing boys in the streets of Insomnia? Do you have any idea how this sort of behaviour reflects on the family?” the teen’s hands trembled, causing his fork to tumble from his finger tips. Blue eyes nervously stared across the table, fixing on a point just over the king’s shoulder.

“Your right as heir and next in line for the throne can be brought into question due to this sort of behaviour. It’s an embarrassment and makes our line look weak, son.” Regis tried to reason, hoping his son would tell him that it was only drunken tomfoolery and was likely to never happen again.

But Noctis merely took a deep breath, before looking into his father’s eyes.

“And what if ‘this sort of behaviour’ is who I really am? What if my romantic tastes are an embarrassment and reflect badly on our family?” the prince questioned defiantly, blue eyes boring into green. The silence was so deafening, you could hear a pin drop.

“You are part of this family; you’re my son. But this behaviour isn’t good for your health, Noctis. You need to move past this-this phase." the king stated, lacing his fingers together as he leaned against the table top.

“And if it isn’t a ‘phase’?” the dark-haired boy challenged, narrowing his eyes at Regis as he waited for an answer.

The king never replied, choosing to stand and leave, his silence enough of an answer for Noctis.

The seventeen year old prince began packing his essentials that evening, and left the citadel without a word, severing contact with his father and leaving his life as crown prince of Lucis behind.

Noctis shuffled across the apartment floor before collapsing onto the beaten up queen-sized mattress. He ended up half on top of his lover, drawing a groan from the man beneath him.

One ice blue eye opened as the raven-haired boy snuggled against the firm chest he was laying on, frowning lightly.

“Rough day at work?” Nyx questioned, his voice gravelly from sleep.

Getting a head shake in response, the glaive sighed, sitting up and pulling the younger man into his lap.

“If it’s not work, than what is it?” the Galahdian prodded, cradling his lover’s dark head against his shoulder. Noctis remained quiet for a few moments, sighing as he collected himself.

“Ignis came by today while I was at work.” he began, tucking himself under Nyx’s stubble-covered chin, “He said that the king is asking after me…”

“I thought you had severed all ties with him when you were 17..” the older man stated, waiting for his lover to clarify.

“Yeah, after he found out about...about my preferences, I moved out and we haven’t spoken since…” the prince explained, staring at a spot on the wall, “But Ignis says he’s been asking about me more often recently, and that his health is declining…” Noctis trailed off, lost for words as calloused fingers combed through thick black locks.

“What are you thinking, myshka?” Nyx whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of the twenty-year old’s head.

“What if he’s dying, Nyx? What if he’s dying, and I never go to see him..?” Noctis asked in a broken voice

The galahdian tightened his arms around the younger man, allowing him to cry into his chest.

“But if you go, you might be able to make amends. Then you can be there until his last moment…” the tattooed man reasoned, trying to soothe his lover as he cried.

Watery sapphire-blue eyes met ice coloured ones as Noctis pulled himself away from Nyx’s chest, sniffling as he wiped at the tear tracks covering his cheeks.

“Will you come with me?” the ex-prince begged him, blue eyes wide and pleading.

“I’ll never let you out of my sight, myshka, I promise you that…” the galahdian assured, drawing his younger lover into a tearful kiss.

“Thank you...” Noctis whispered against chapped lips, allowing Nyx to pull him back down onto the mattress, tucking himself against a muscled chest.

Noctis clung to Nyx’s hand as they were led through the familiar halls of the citadel, servants that lingered along the way gossiping and whispering at the appearance of the missing prince, hand-in-hand with an immigrant, and a much older man at that.

The pair silently followed Ignis towards the large double doors that hid the king away from everyone else, a familiar sight to the ex-prince as the doors eventually opened for them. The king’s chambers were kept warm by the fires that were lit in the massive fire places, fighting the chill that crept through the citadel stonework.

The fires were the only source of light as they moved further into the king’s chambers, Noctis freezing as the duo came face to face with the last set of doors that separated them from the king. Nyx placed a comforting hand on his lover’s shoulder, grounding the younger man as he took a deep breath before opening one of the doors and entering.

The room wasn’t as dark as the rest of the king’s quarters, bedside lamps aiding the roaring fire in bring light to the room. The king lay swaddled in the warmth of his blankets and the fire, tired green eyes turning slowly until they landed on the familiar form of his son.

“Noctis…” Regis called out, his voice betraying just how uncertain he was about the man before him actually being his son.

“Hey dad…” the raven-haired man replied, taking slow, tentative steps towards his father’s bed.

“Oh, Noctis… It’s been too long, come closer, son. And bring that fellow with you.” Regis said, gesturing for the pair to come over to his bedside, attempting to prop himself up against his pillows.

The younger man knelt at his father’s bedside, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as Regis grasped his pale hand gently.

“Let me get a good look at you…” the king whispered, clouded green eyes slowly scanning the twenty-year old’s face, taking in every change he noticed—from the way Noctis styled his hair, with little braids and beads woven among the long black locks, to the small freckles and scars that he had obtained from various job occupations. But most of all, hidden behind the obvious nervousness of being back at the citadel, Regis could tell his son was happy and felt free in his new life.

His green gaze moved upwards to his son’s companion, examining the older man carefully.

“Noctis, if you wouldn’t mind introducing us.” Regis requested, nodding up at the galahdian standing behind his son’s shoulder.

“Oh, dad, this is Nyx Ulric, my um...my boyfriend. Nyx, meet my dad, Regis.” Noctis introduced the two to each other, clearing his throat slightly as he forced to words out.

“I trust you’ve been taking care of my boy, Ulric. Bahamut knows I haven’t these last few years…” the king inquired, gazing tiredly at the couple before him.

“Of course, sir. I do my best to keep him comfortable and happy, your majesty.” Nyx assured the fragile monarch, receiving a soft nod in response.

“Good, good…” Regis trailed off, sighing heavily before locking eyes with Noctis once more, “While I’m glad you have been doing alright, I didn’t ask after you so I could interrogate you and your partner, Noctis.”

“Son, I hope you’ll forgive my behaviour over the last few years, especially the whole mess about your sexuality. There is no way to excuse my reaction or my behaviour over these last few years. I’m sorry that it took me four years and laying on my death bed to come to terms with who you are and accept you.” the king wheezed out, breaking into a rattling cough that made Noctis’ heart jump into his throat. He gripped Regis’ hand tightly, Nyx resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“And now knowing that you have a loving and caring life partner, I know that your feelings for him are as real as the love I had for your mother. My son, make sure you keep kissing that boy in the streets. Hell, when I’m gone and you’ve been crowned as king, kiss him on the citadel balcony. Don’t ever let anyone shame you as I have." Regis told him solemnly, gripping Noctis’ hand tightly as his green eyes stared into the blue of his son’s.

Noctis held back his tears, swallowing tightly as he smiled at his father.

“Sure thing, dad.” the younger man assured, a few tears escaping and sliding down his cheeks.

The king then turned his attention to Nyx, fixing him with as stern of a look as he could muster.

“Now, I expect you to do right by my son, and make an honest man of him, Nyx Ulric. I want to at least see an engagement ring on my son’s hand before I pass on.” Regis lectured, Noctis turning a deep red in embarrassment. Nyx chuckled, gently twirling a strand of his lover’s dark hair around his finger.

“Already on it, sir.” the galahdian promised, Noctis turning around quickly to look at his partner in shock as his blush deepened.

“Good. And please, call me Regis.” the king smiled lightly, watching the duo with a pleased gaze.

Nyx gazed adoringly down at the raven-haired man, while Noctis, even with his intense blush, glanced up lovingly at the elder man through his lashes.

If Noctis falling in love and being loved was the end result, his son should keep kissing that boy in the street.

[cj-jacobs]

No Kissing

(I took a brief intermission from working on my main fic to do a one-shot; I’ve seen a few people lately craving Bechloe married domestic fluff, and I’ve been feeling the same way, so I couldn’t resist the urge!)

Locking up her studio for the night, Beca pockets the key and heads across the back yard to the house.  She comes in through the kitchen, finding it empty and silent this late in the evening.  Checking the clock, she feels a slight twinge of guilt when she sees it’s past eight.  Usually, despite the temptation of her equipment just a few steps away on the same property, she doesn’t allow herself to go back to work after dinner.  (Or rather, Chloe doesn’t allow her to go back to work after dinner.)  But with so many deadlines looming this week she’s had to make some exceptions.

She crosses the back hallway and peeks into the family room.  Chloe is nowhere in evidence, but their daughter, Violet, is sitting on the plush area rug in the middle of the room, clutching her favorite blanket, staring at the TV and absorbed in what looks like a car insurance commercial featuring a talking monkey.  

Beca steps quietly through the doorway and sneaks up closer, then crouches down a few feet behind her, still unnoticed.  “Boo,” she says, but in a soft voice so as not to actually scare her.

Violet spins around, her face lighting up in surprise and an almost delirious joy.  “Mama!”  In one continuous motion she pulls herself up from the floor and throws herself at Beca, with as much passion as if days have passed since they’ve seen each other, instead of just hours.

Beca is knocked backwards off of her heels and onto her ass by the force of the impact.  “Oh my God,” she laughs.  

Violet hangs onto her through the stumble, her arms wrapped tightly around Beca’s neck.  Beca pulls her close, squeezing her tiny body hard against her as she shuts her eyes, inhaling her scent.  Her loose light red curls smell like baby shampoo and are still slightly damp from her bath, and she’s wearing soft cotton pajamas printed with moons and stars.

“Mmm, thank you,” Beca mumbles with real gratitude into her daughter’s small, warm shoulder.  She takes a deep breath and lets it out, impressed as always by the sheer restorative power of a toddler’s hug.  “I needed that.”

Violet finally detaches herself and pulls back, examining her face.  With Beca sitting on the floor, they’re about the same height.

“Did you finish?” Violet asks her solemnly.

“Finish what?”

“The layering.”

Beca looks at her in amazement.  Vocal layering is exactly what she’s been doing for the past twelve hours, with brief breaks for meals.  But how could her not-quite-yet three year old daughter know that?  It’s true, yesterday she and Cynthia-Rose had been discussing their options for a particular track while Violet scribbled in a coloring book on the floor of the studio, but she’d been singing quietly to herself and seemingly not paying any attention.  

“We did finish.  Were you listening when we were talking about that yesterday?” Beca asks her.

Violet nods.

“Wow.  I keep forgetting you’re, like, a little person now.”  It also makes her realize she’s going to have to start being more careful about the stuff that comes out of her mouth.  She knew this day would come eventually, but she’s not sure she’s ready for it.  “So,” she changes the subject.  “I hear we’re watching a movie tonight.”

“Yep,” Violet confirms with excitement.  “But only when Mommy comes down.  She’s putting on her...” She struggles to remember the exact words, squinting and twisting her mouth in a way that’s so precisely like Chloe that it’s disorienting.  “Comfy clothes,” she adds with a little nod, pleased with herself.

“Ugh, we have to wait for her?”  Beca makes a face.  “I say we just watch it without her.”

At this notion, Violet’s dark blue eyes widen in alarm.  Those eyes, along with her pale complexion, are her only notable physical legacies from Beca--or technically from Beca’s brother, which amounts to nearly the same thing, since they’re so similar in both looks and personality that they were often mistaken for twins as children, even though Chris is a year older.

“I don’t want to,” she pouts.

Beca grins at her.  “I’m just kidding.  You gotta to learn to read the room, kid.  So, what are we gonna watch?”

Fetching her chosen DVD from the nearby coffee table, Violet holds it up proudly.  “This one.”

“Ohhh,” Beca groans.  “Big Bird again, huh?”  Violet’s choice, as usual, is an obnoxious Sesame Street movie from the eighties, in which Big Bird is removed from his home by a social worker played by a lady in a giant finch costume… or something.  Beca’s never quite figured out the nonsense plot, despite the fact that she’s been forced to sit through it hundreds of times.  Or maybe not hundreds, but it feels that way.  Why can’t their child just watch Pixar like every other kid in America?

“It’s Aunt Aubrey’s movie,” Violet points out earnestly, as if reading her thoughts.  “From when she was little.”

“That’s right, Aunt Aubrey gave you that, didn’t she?  That was so generous of her.  She deserves a big thank-you for that,” Beca says wryly.  “Like, maybe some thank-you waterboarding.”

“Yep.  Cuz it was so nice,” Violet agrees, not batting an eye at the waterboarding mention.  From Chloe, she’s inherited a remarkable resistance to other people’s sarcasm.  This is a trait that comes in handy when dealing with Beca.

“So nice,” Beca echoes.  “But are you sure you don’t want to watch something else, just for a change?  Like, literally, anything else?” she pleads.

“Nope,” Violet says firmly.  “Big Bird.”

Beca knows it’s hopeless, but there’s time to kill before Chloe comes down, because somehow even changing into pajamas takes her forever, so she pulls her jacket off and kicks off her shoes, then crawls over and begins to shuffle through the DVDs in the storage bin that pulls out from the coffee table.  “Let’s see what else those freaks have left here over the years.  How about… a Monster Truck Rally?  Pretty sure that was Amy’s.  Want to watch big trucks crush things?” Beca teases her, tickling her at the same time.  “Hmm?”  

“No,” Violet wriggles away, smiling.

“No?  Something more sophisticated?”  Beca tries again.  “Dead Poets Society, maybe.”

“Mm-mm.”

“You are one tough customer.  Moulin Rouge?”

She shakes her head vigorously.

“Casablanca?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Violet says with strained patience.

“Yeah, me neither,” Beca admits.  “Um… Great Performances: Collegiate Acapella Edition?”

“No!”

“Jeez, okay,” Beca holds up her hands in defense.  “Actually, I’m with you on that one. How about… Silence of the Lambs?”

Violet seems intrigued by the mention of lambs.  She thinks about it, studying the DVD she’s still holding, weighing her loyalty to Big Bird.  But, finally, “No,” she decides.

“Thank God,” Beca says.  “Did not have a backup plan for that one.”

Even though she can’t possibly understand this joke, Violet finds it funny anyway.  The two of them are still laughing when Beca suddenly looks up and realizes Chloe is standing in the doorway, watching them with a half-smile.  She has the strangest look on her face, soft and wistful but somehow faraway, like she’s trying to remember something.  Beca gets the distinct impression she’s been standing there for a while.

“Hey, weirdo.  You spying on us?”

“Mommy, look!” Violet holds up the DVD to show her.

Coming out of her semi-trance, Chloe snaps right into mom mode.  “Oh my gosh, are we watching Big Bird?” she gushes, as if this is the most exciting news she’s heard all day.  Beca admires this skill, even if she still hasn’t mastered it herself.  “You want me to put it in?” Chloe asks, coming further into the room and picking up the remote control.

But Violet protests this immediately; she wants to do it herself.  “No, me!”  She stretches her arms up for the remote.  “I’ll do it.”

“You want to do it?  Go for it,”  Chloe gives her the remote and watches as she scampers across the room to the DVD player.  “Let me know if you need help.” 

“I could use some,” Beca says, holding out her hands.  

“Hey, you.”  Chloe smiles and helps pull her up from the floor, giving her a quick hello peck as she does.  “Did you get done?”

“Yeah, for the most part.  She’s still not totally happy with it, but what else is new.”

“She’ll love it when it’s all finished,” Chloe assures her, a hand on Beca’s lower back as they move over to the couch.  “She always does.”

They sit down, Chloe still monitoring the progress with the movie.  So far, Violet seems to know what she’s doing, although she’s progressing slowly, handling the disc with a careful reverence.

“It would be such a shame if anything ever happened to that movie,” Beca remarks casually.

“Don’t you dare,” Chloe warns her, trying not to laugh.

“Hey.”  Beca waits until Chloe looks over at her.  “So, what was that about?”

“What was what about?”

“A minute ago, when you were standing there,” she looks toward the doorway.  “You had this look on your face, like…” she trails off.  “I don’t know, it was weird.  I mean, weirder than usual.”

Chloe smiles.  But she doesn’t answer right away, and she seems to be considering what she wants to say.  “It’ll sound crazy.”

Now Beca’s intrigued.  “When has that ever stopped you?”

But Chloe’s focus is suddenly diverted by the fact that Violet has succeeded in starting the movie.  “Look at you!” she praises her.  “You did it all by yourself!”

Glowing with confidence, Violet adjusts the volume to her preferred too-loud level, then, apparently feeling herself the mistress of ceremonies, she crosses the room and dims the lights to their usual soft movie-watching glow, straining upward to reach the switch, which she just barely manages with the tips of her fingers.

“Nice job,” Beca comments.  “Now can you go make us some popcorn?”

“No!” Violet retorts, returning to the rug and plopping herself down on the floor to watch the movie.

“Thought it was worth a shot,” Beca says.  She turns her attention back to Chloe, lowering her voice so as not to distract their daughter.  “Well?  Still waiting, here.”

Again, Chloe’s quiet for a second.  When she finally speaks, her question isn’t what Beca was expecting at all.  “Do you remember the day we saw this house for the first time?”

Confused, Beca searches her memory.  “Yeah, I guess.  I remember you wouldn’t even tell me why we were in Topanga, until we were here.”

“I didn’t know if you’d come with me, otherwise.  We weren’t even together then.  Or at least… not officially.”

“Yeah.  I do recall that part,” Beca says, looking away, her expression a bit guilty.  Those days are far from her proudest memories.  “God, it felt like the tour lasted forever,” she adds dryly.  “That real estate agent hated me, dude.”

Chloe rolls her eyes, amused.  “She didn’t hate you.  But you weren’t exactly on your best behavior,” she chides her.

“I tried,” Beca insists, not very convincingly.  “What do you expect from me when someone uses the word nook in an un-ironic way?  I only have one setting when it comes to that stuff.”

Chloe shakes her head a little, but her affection for even Beca’s worst qualities is clear to see.  “Anyway.  When she was showing us the first floor, and we were leaving this room?  I remember I stopped and looked back for a second, and… okay, this is the crazy part.  It’s like I could see this.  And I forgot about it, until just now.  When I was coming in, and you guys were sitting on the floor like that?  It just came back to me, all of a sudden.  I remembered standing there, that day, and imagining,” she pauses.  “What it could be like.  If we were a couple.  And this was our house.  It was like, I could see it so clearly.  When I finally came back to reality, I remember you were looking at me like I’d gone off the deep end.”

“I was?” Beca winces a little.  She doesn’t have a clear memory of any of this, but the fact that she was being an ass doesn’t surprise her at all.  “Sorry.”

“No, I don’t blame you.  It must have looked strange.  But it’s like,” Chloe gazes around the room again now, “this is just what I was picturing, in my head.  How it would be.  How this room would look, if we lived here.  And you, and her,” she gestures at their daughter.  “Just, all of us.  All of this.  That’s what I wanted.  It’s all I ever wanted.  Sometimes I still can’t believe-- “ she breaks off, her voice suddenly catching.  Her eyes are sparkling with unshed tears, but as if she knows she’s being silly, she bites her bottom lip and laughs at herself a little, her expression suddenly flashing into a brilliant smile.

As is usually the case for her, Beca’s surprised by her own reaction, at how she unexpectedly feels everything inside her light up.  It’s the combination of the emotion and the smile that gets her every time, how Chloe can veer from one to the other within seconds, even mixing them together in unanticipated ways.  She tries to think of something to say, but then decides against it.  Words are never her strong suit, especially in moments like this.  

Instead, she shifts closer to her on the couch and, cupping Chloe’s face gently in her hands, draws her forward into a soft, lingering kiss.  Surprised by the gesture, Chloe becomes completely still, closing her eyes and melting into it, as if she’s trying to slow down time to make it last longer.  

“Don’t kiss!”  

They’re startled by the exasperated voice coming from just a few feet away.  Pulling apart, they find Violet standing in front of the couch, gazing at them in stern warning, hands on her tiny hips in a miniature approximation of the way Chloe used to look during a frustrating Bellas rehearsal.

Chloe gasps in exaggerated astonishment.  “Why can’t we kiss?”

“Because.  Now you missed it.”

“Oh no, did we miss the beginning?”

Beca says quickly, “That’s okay.”  But Violet has already moved back toward the TV, brandishing the remote control like a weapon.  “No, babe, it’s fine, you don’t have to--” she attempts.  Then she sighs.  “Yeah, she’s gonna start it over.”  She looks at Chloe, mouthing the words, “Damn it.”

Violet walks herself through the remote control buttons out loud.  “Push this one.  Then… this one.”  The fact that she hasn’t fully mastered her th-sounds yet means that it sounds more like “Den dis one.”  Even Beca is powerless to withstand the force of this cuteness.  

“Thank you, sweetie,” Chloe calls to her, after she succeeds in starting the movie again from the very beginning.  “That was so nice of you.”

She comes back toward them, repeating with emphasis, “Don’t.  Kiss.”  As if to offer them something in return for their obedience, she says, “You can kiss at the boring part.”

“At the boring part?” Beca says.  “Do we get to decide when that is, or-- ?”

“No,” Violet says.  “I’ll tell you.”

“Oh.  Okay,” Beca smiles.  “We’ll just wait, then.”

“We’ll be good, we promise,” Chloe tells her.

Violet seems skeptical, but she nevertheless settles herself onto her stomach in the middle of the rug, her favorite spot for watching TV, and turns her attention back to the screen.  They wait a few seconds until she seems to be fully absorbed in the movie.

“She’s so bossy,” Chloe whispers with something like pride.

“Yeah.  Wonder where she gets that from?”  

Chloe raises one hand to her chest in cartoonish innocence.  “I don’t have any idea what you mean.”  Then she transitions to pure ingenue, batting her eyelashes.

Grinning slyly, Beca nudges her leg with her foot.  Chloe nudges her back with her bare toes, suppressing a giggle.  Beca retaliates by sliding her foot slowly up Chloe’s calf, underneath her sweat pants.  Despite the fact that this is basic teen level flirtation, they’re now in full-on eye sex mode.  After another few minutes of this discreet PG-level canoodling, something causes Chloe’s attention to flit back to their daughter, and she freezes as a comically guilty expression crosses her features.  “Oh, no,” she laughs under her breath.  

Beca follows her gaze to see that Violet has pivoted around and is facing them, watching them with suspicion.

Chloe protests, “We didn’t do anything!”

“You were gonna kiss again.”

“You can’t prove that,” Beca argues.

Violet only stares at her, sulking.  She is not here for this bullshit.

Now Beca begs, “Please don’t start the movie again.”

To distract her, Chloe offers, “You want to come over here and sit with us?  So you can keep an eye on us better?”

She considers, then agrees. “Kay.”  Pulling herself up from the floor, she comes to them, and they each grasp one of her hands and hoist her up onto the sofa.  She nestles down in between them.  Pleased with her new position, she crows, “Now you can’t kiss anymore.”

Chloe seems to take this as a challenge.  “You better watch it, missy, or we’re gonna kiss you instead.”

“Uh-uh,” Violet shakes her head, already smiling.  “Not me.”  But it’s too late, and she’s soon convulsed in squealing, writhing laughter as they come at her from both sides, pinning her between them and covering her cheeks and both sides of her head with loud, theatrical smooches, with some tickling thrown in for good measure.  

After she survives this coordinated maternal attack, Violet takes a few seconds to recover, sprawled against the couch cushions and breathing hard.  Her face is pink and her eyes are shining with mirth, the occasional drunk-sounding chuckle still bubbling out of her.

“You didn’t pee yourself, did you?” Beca asks her.

Chloe’s mouth drops open in pretended offense on Violet’s behalf.  “Beca.  She’s a big girl.”

“I’m a big girl!” Violet repeats indignantly to Beca.

“My mistake,” Beca says.

“But…” Violet reflects, always honest.  “I maybe peed a little.”

Chloe smiles, reassuring her, “That’s okay, baby, that one was our fault.”  She straightens and smooths Violet’s pajama top, which has gotten twisted in all her squirming.  “You ready to watch the movie for real now?”

“Yes!” she agrees, turning her attention back to the screen.  But it’s clear as she rubs her eyes hard that a shift has taken place, and she’s heading into the sleepy zone.  Right on cue, she snuggles into Chloe’s side and her thumb goes into her mouth.  Beca may get the excited welcomes, but Chloe is the one she gravitates toward when she’s tired or just needs comforting.  Not hard to see why.

After another few minutes, Violet slides down even further, her head now in Chloe’s lap, her feet draped over Beca’s legs.  Watching her, Beca tries to gauge by her breathing just how close to sleep she is.  The more drowsy she gets, the younger she seems, and in the dim light, with Chloe stroking her hair back from her face and her eyelids getting heavy, she now strongly resembles the infant she was only, what, last week?  That’s what it feels like, anyway.  If they’re lucky, maybe she’ll pass out before the movie is halfway over and they can put something else on.  But another part of Beca, the greedy mom part, wants Violet to stay awake longer, especially after seeing so little of her today.

She glances up at Chloe and notices that she, too, is watching Violet, gazing down at her with a soft, rapt expression of wonder.  Looking at them both, Beca only now feels the full meaning of what Chloe was talking about, before.  As she takes in the vision of the two of them against the full sweep of the background--the room, the house, everything they have together--she thinks about what Chloe must have been seeing when she looked into this empty room years ago.  She thinks about how close she herself came, through her own stubbornness and denial, to rendering those images into an unfulfilled prophecy, a mirage that would have vanished like smoke.  How close she came to losing it all.

But she didn’t.  By some miracle that she still doesn’t fully understand, she didn’t.  It’s all real, and solid, and tangible.  Like Chloe almost said earlier before she stopped herself, the words as clear to Beca as if she’d spoken them out loud, it actually happened.  This is their real life.

She only realizes how long she’s been staring at her when Chloe glances over and catches her.  Awkwardly, Beca looks away, then gives it up and looks back, flashing her a sheepish smirk.  She can tell by the look on Chloe’s face that she hasn’t managed to hide anything at all.  By this point, Chloe knows how to read her emotions maybe better than she does herself.  

So she gives in to the moment and lets her guard down, something she’s still no expert at but which she’s managing with more frequency as the years go by.  Staring into Chloe’s eyes, she silently mouths the words I love you.

This time it’s Chloe who leans in toward her--carefully, trying not to catch Violet’s notice.  Beca meets her halfway.  Their lips join and mold together with the kind of perfectly choreographed and precise intimacy that can only develop between people who have kissed each other thousands of times before.  And yet somehow, even with their sixth wedding anniversary approaching soon, it still hasn’t gotten old.  Despite what the world has always conditioned them to believe, they’re both starting to suspect that maybe it never will.  Not for them.

Chloe breaks the kiss so gently that the transition is hardly noticed, her forehead pressed against Beca’s.  “I love you too,” she whispers against her lips, not making any sound.  

Nevertheless, despite their best efforts, they detect a subtle shift in Violet’s position, and they look down to find that they’ve been caught, for the third time.

She’s pulled her thumb out of her mouth and is gazing at them with indecision, so tired that she doesn’t know whether it’s worth it to protest.  

Then Chloe winks at her, including her in their secret, rather than leaving her on the outside of it.  This is all it takes, because, like Chloe herself, Violet’s moods can shift from one extreme to the other within seconds.  Like sun breaking through clouds, her eyes crinkle and she flashes them a complicit smile, forgiving them for their lapse.  Then she pops her thumb back into her mouth and rotates her head toward the glow of the TV, her eyelids almost immediately beginning to grow heavy again.

Now, Beca shifts herself closer to Chloe, smoothly transferring more of Violet’s lower body onto her own legs, moving near enough to allow Chloe the option to lean against her, an option she quickly perceives and takes.  As Chloe settles into her Beca presses her lips to her head for just a minute, lingering there, breathing her in.  She takes a deep, slow breath and lets it out, relaxing into the soft warmth of Chloe’s body, turning her eyes back to the TV and the inescapable Big Bird.  Maybe in a minute, she thinks, she’ll get up and make them some popcorn herself.  But not just yet.

For right now, she just wants to sit here, with her wife’s head nestled on her shoulder and their baby dozing off on their laps.

[megsblackfirewrites]

The Beginning of a Legacy: Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“Captain,” Malaha greeted as John and his group stepped into the briefing room.

“Major,” he greeted in return and saluted.

Everyone followed suit, except for Joel, who just tipped his hat like the typical Southern gentleman he tried to style himself as. The Major gave Joel a fond look before she shook her head. Leave it to Joel to charm everyone in high command into not caring if he saluted or not. He’d be charming them out of their wallets if they allowed it; he was good at getting what he wanted. John glanced past Malaha and took stock of the group assembled around the table. Young eyes stared at him, each one a little more nervous than the last.

“So, this is Overwatch?” John asked. “A motley bunch, if nothing else.”

“The best from around the world, Captain Morrison,” Malaha chuckled. “Don’t let their age fool you; they’re as dedicated to this cause as you are and just as qualified.”

“It’s not their dedication I worry about,” John replied as his eyes landed on an enormous young man with barely the beginnings of a beard on his chin. “Why the hell is there a teenager at my table?”

The boy in question grinned widely before he got to his feet, holding a massive hand out towards John. He was easily almost six and a half feet tall and by the looks of him, he wasn’t done growing yet. He wasn’t just tall, either; he was covered in thick muscles. Was it natural for a kid his age to be that ripped? It was sort of disquieting.

“Reinhardt Wilhelm at your service!” he boomed, making Laura squeak in surprise.

Kid had a good set of lungs on him too. At least someone’s voice was going to carry over the battlefield when orders needed to be shouted.

“Captain Morrison,” John replied as he shook the boy’s hand. “That doesn’t tell me why you’re here, kid.”

“Ah, I was nominated from my order,” Reinhardt beamed and puffed his chest out. “We Crusaders are the best that Germany has to offer!”

“Never heard of the group,” John said coldly. “And I question their motives for sending a child to me.”

“John,” Joel elbowed him in the side. “Ease up. I was runnin’ guns when I was his age.”

“Let’s not bring up your sordid past, Joel,” John shot him a look. “It is not a good example to use.”

“Why not? Best they know who they’re dealin’ with,” Joel smirked. “‘Sides, hard to call anyone that’s as big as Reinhardt a kid. Fuck, he’s bigger than I am and I ain’t a short-ass, unlike you, Snow White.”

“Snow White had ebony black hair; I’m more like Cinderella,” John shook his head. “Van is going to be so insulted that you didn’t pay attention to our discussion, Joel. And after she decided you were Robin Hood too.”

“Considerin’ the one she was talkin’ about was a fox, I’m sort of happy about forgettin’ it ‘til this moment,” he teased before winking at Reinhardt. “Little girls are usually pretty good at complimentin’ ya, but they’re just as fast to insult ya thinkin’ they’re being cute. She’d probably call you ‘Little John’ or Ballou cuz a yer size.”

Reinhardt grinned and puffed his chest out even more. Leave it to the kid to take being likened to a bear as a compliment. John did his best not to roll his eyes as Joel leaned on the table.

“How long you serve, Reinhardt?” Joel asked.

“A little over a year, sir,” Reinhardt smiled.

“Ah, don’t sir me; I ain’t the one with the shiny badge on my chest,” Joel laughed. “Just call me Joel. Or McCree; I’ll answer to both.”

“So they’re sending a private instead of an officer,” John growled. “They aren’t fighting their case very well.”

“John, breathe,” Joel shot him a smirk. “Decision’s already been made. Roll with it.”

“I could hit you,” John glared at him.

Joel smirked more and flipped him off. John reached out and cuffed the older man over the head, but all it got him was a gruff laugh and a hand in his hair ruffling it roughly.

“That’s ol’ Cap fer ya,” Joel crowed. “Cares too much fer his own good. Don’t worry, boys and girls, John’ll carry yer busted ass off the battlefield no matter how much he’s cussin’ you out.”

John reached up to try and fix his ruffled hair, glaring at Joel, but it softened at the man’s fond smile. Joel set his hands on his hips before he glanced around at the table.

“So, who else wants to introduce themselves?” he asked. “You know, before the Cap’ is forced to give his military spiel and we’re all reduced to numbers in some jackass’ book.”

A woman rose elegantly to her feet and bowed her head. “Shimada Miyu,” she said with a lighter Japanese accent than John was expecting. “It is an honour to serve with you, Morrison-sama.” She glanced up and smirked at him. “You can return the bow if you wish, just keep your head above mine.”

“I’ll settle for a handshake,” John replied.

“Thank Christ!” Miyu laughed as she reached across the table to shake his hand. “I hate having to deal with Americans that don’t know the first thing about proper bows.”

Joel cackled with glee at her comment and tipped his hat. “Ah, lil lady, I think we’re gunna get along just fine,” he teased.

“I should hope so,” she winked. “We ex-criminals have to stick together.”

“What?” Laura piped up.

Joel lifted his hat a little out of his eyes and squinted at Miyu. Miyu smirked and batted her eyelashes, shifting her shoulders back and forth. Joel threw his head back and laughed, reaching out to thump John’s chest.

“Well I’ll be,” he laughed. “If it ain’t the White Dragon of Hanamura! My, you grew up into a fine young lady, Miss Miyu. I didn’t recognize ya!”

“Care to fill the rest of us in?” John sighed.

“Deadlock and the Shimada clan had some dealin’s over the years,” Joel grinned. “Miyu’s the fine offspring of a powerful yakuza leader. ‘Though, I expect if yer here, that cousin of yers finally managed to wrench control from yer elders.”

“Exactly,” Miyu nodded. “I am here as a peace offering from the Shimada Clan to the Japanese Military.”

“So we’re working with criminals,” a man growled, glaring at Miyu and Joel. “Is this really the best the world has to offer?”

“Who the governments chose to send is out of my control, Sergeant,” Malaha said. “You will just have to deal with it.”

“You expect me to trust criminals to watch my back?” the Sergeant demanded, his dark eyes narrowing. “This is loco.”

“I have no reason to turn on you unless you give me a reason to, Reyes-san,” Miyu inclined her head.

Sergeant Reyes glared at her and said something in Spanish. John’s Spanish was horrible; he’d learned French in high school and the most he could say was “hello” and “where’s the bathroom”. Miyu smiled sweetly at the Sergeant before punching him across the face and knocking him flat on his ass. She gave her fist a shake and set a hand on her hip.

“You know what he said?” John asked as everyone shuffled closer to stare at the dazed man on the floor.

“Not a clue,” she shrugged. “But I know when I’ve been insulted.”

“Pretty sure I heard a puta in there,” Joel chuckled. “So he at least called you a ‘bitch’.”

“Typical,” Miyu smirked before looking at John. “So,” she smiled, “when do we leave?”

“So, you got anyone waiting for you at home, Captain?”

Joel glanced up. Sergeant Reyes still had a beautiful black eye from where Miyu had punched him, but the idiot had at least stopped insulting her when she was in hearing range. He had pitched a fit when John made it clear that Joel was his Second in Command over a “more qualified” military officer. Joel was still waiting for the right moment to pin the man to a wall and shake some sense into him. Now was not the time for his backwards, bro-military logic. They had a dangerous war to win.

“Kid,” John smiled. “Only seven.”

“Look like you or his mom?” Reyes asked.

“Him,” Laura smirked. “Damn near spitting image, if you ask me. Great big blue eyes and corn-gold blond hair. Such a little sweetie.”

“Thank you, Laura,” John shook his head. “I’m sure Jack will love that you said that. He’s always so scared people won’t know he’s my son.”

Laura grinned widely before she returned to listening to her iPod. Joel shook his head in amusement as Reyes lifted an eyebrow at Laura. He clearly didn’t approve of the scout being on the same team as him either. Whether because she was young or inexperienced with military protocol was something Joel still had to puzzle out. Reyes shook his head and turned back to John.

“So, what, you white boys just breed true or something?” he asked.

“Wow, asshole,” Joel called. “My kids look like me too.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Reyes smiled. “You know that, right, gringo?”

John shot him a look and shook his head. Just like the big boss to let insults slide so that no feathers were ruffled. Kid better not think Joel was that nice.

“What about you, Reyes? Who’s waiting at home for you?” John asked.

“Brother, sister-in-law, and their kids,” Reyes smirked.

“How sweet,” John said icily.

“Oh, come on, Cap; I’m just playing around,” Reyes said sweetly. “What’s the matter; can’t take a joke?”

“Jokes should be funny,” Miyu said as she walked over and dropped down between John and Reyes. “Not meant to make someone feel small over something as petty as living family members.”

“I’d listen to the lady,” Joel commented as he readjusted his hat. “Ain’t gunna get anywhere if we’re at each other’s throats over stupid shit like this.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to make small talk,” Reyes lifted his hands.

“Then speak of something else,” Miyu replied.

“Fine; what’s home to you?” Reyes demanded.

“A village on top of a hill,” Miyu smiled. “It’s old and swamped by tradition. Tokyo is not far from us, so at night you can see the lights in the sky. It’s beautiful in spring, full of warmth and sunshine. There are cherry blossoms floating everywhere. I miss it.”

“How long you been away, Miyu?” Joel asked.

“Two years,” Miyu looked down at her feet. “I have been protecting the rest of Asia from the omnics. I have not held my cousin’s son since he was born. My cousin tells me that he is expecting another child. I want to be there to hold them at least once.”

“Home’s a farm,” John sighed. “Corn plantations as far as the eye can see. Wide open spaces. Porch with a swing seat. Tire swing hanging from the old oak in the front yard. Chickens running around and pecking at everything. Dirt road all the way up to the highway. Sweet ice tea on a summer night.”

“Sounds like heaven,” Miyu smiled. “What happened to it?”

“Omnics,” John sighed. “Don’t know how much is left of the old farmstead. Could probably save something of it when this hell is done with. What about you, Joel?”

Joel smiled as he tipped his hat back. “Wild west is what I call home,” he chuckled. “Hot sun, sun-baked earth, not a tree fer miles in any direction. Just you, a gun, and whatever mode of transportation you prefer. Used to drive an ol’ pick-up, personally. But, home’s also a warm house filled with the laughter of children. Never thought I’d be much of a family man ‘til my little rugrats were born.”

“Apartment in Bloomington,” Laura said as she pulled an earbud out. “Not overly fancy, but it’s nice. Just me, Dad, and Tigger.”

“A village in Germany,” Reinhardt sighed softly from where he was sitting. “The cool breezes of summer wafting in out of the forest. Homemade bread filling the house. I will never see it again.”

“I’m sorry,” Joel murmured. “Omnics?”

“Ja,” Reinhardt nodded his head. “It is what spurred me into the army so young. There was nothing left of my home and I could not bear the thought of others suffering as I did. I swore I would protect all that I could. I do not plan on breaking that vow ever.”

“What about you, Reyes?” Joel asked. “What’s home to you?”

Reyes shifted uncomfortably and looked away. “A home in L.A,” he grumbled. “Nothing special about it. Just nice and full of people.”

“Any of them actually miss you?” Joel growled in Spanish. Reyes looked at him in surprise and Joel smiled. “What, you really think you’re the only one capable of knowing two languages?”

“Didn’t peg you as being Mexican,” Reyes said. “Little dark.”

“Not Mexican; Navajo,” Joel shrugged. “Learned Spanish in high school and kept at it since it was useful to know. Regardless, you’re a right arrogant bastard. You think only Mexicans can speak Spanish? A good chunk of the fucking world speaks Spanish, jackass.”

“You don’t talk like a white boy, that’s all.”

“And racist to boot,” Joel snorted, wishing he could spit. He was pretty sure the pilot would gut him if he spat in her plane. “Fuckers like you give the rest of us a bad name.”

“Rest of us?” Reyes demanded. “You’re nothing but a half-bred…”

“Oh, finish that sentence,” Joel snarled as he got to his feet, “I dare ya!”

“Joel,” John got to his feet. “I don’t know what you two are arguing about, but it’s not worth it.”

“Yes, listen to your slave driver,” Reyes smirked.

“John, I gotta lot of respect fer ya, but let me handle this,” Joel growled. “This shitstain needs to learn a lesson.”

John looked at him before he gently pulled Miyu to her feet. “You don’t want to be in his way,” he said at her indignant look. “Trust me.”

Joel waited until Miyu and John had moved to a different set of seats before he attacked. The shock in Reyes’ eyes was satisfying as Joel slammed him against the wall. He recovered fast, driving his knee up into Joel’s stomach to make him back off. He underestimated how fast Joel could recover, however, and wasted the few precious seconds to smirk.

Joel surged forward and grabbed Reyes by the head, wrenching him around. He smashed his head to the ground and got an elbow to the jaw during the maneuver. He bit the end of his tongue, filling his mouth with blood as he stumbled back. He grinned, letting Reyes see the gory sight, before he spat on the floor. He wasn’t exactly going to swallow it; he’d clean it up afterwards so the pilot didn’t kill him.

He saw the combat knife emerge from Reyes’ boot as he looked up. He blocked the blow, grinning as he twisted Reyes’ arm under his. He wrenched up, forcing Reyes’ hand open and making him drop the knife.

“Next time you pull a knife,” Joel growled before his machete came free of its sheath, “make sure your opponent doesn’t have a bigger one.” He pressed the blade against Reyes’ cheek and dragged it slowly down the curve of his jaw. “Now remember yer place or yer gunna find out why they call me ‘Coyote’. I ain’t the big boss. I ain’t nice to shits like you.”

He pulled away slowly, running the tip of his machete under Reyes’ trembling chin. He pulled it away swiftly, nicking the skin just enough to make a thin line of red appear. He slipped his machete back into its sheath before heading for the medical supply cupboard in search of something that would make his tongue stop bleeding. Reyes got the message loud and clear.