#I wouldn’t have gone this long without it except the pharmacy is only open when I’m at work

[lynx-tales]

God, I hope I can make it to the pharmacy tomorrow this withdrawal is hell

[killuwumi]

Exceptions

a/n: a fic that not a single soul asked for, nor is it my usual bsd content but since i've been so inactive i figured its better than nothing. genshin content from your local lesbian woop woop

Ningguang x Fem Reader

Warning | Slight possessiveness, mentions of injury  

It was late night when you decided to take a walk around the harbor, Liyue never exactly died down, the night life was equally as busy, just with a different crowd.

Tavern noises could be heard from all up and down the streets, it was a stress reliever for a lot of workers and even some merchants who were tired of the day to day.

Why you were walking alone at night? Ningguang could only guess you had a destination in mind as she looked at you from one of the many terraces overlooking the streets.

You seemed to be lost in thought, wandering and occasionally bumping into things or people. It peaked her curiosity. She gracefully walked, her hand gently skimming the red railing as she glided along.

Archons, exhaustion was finally starting to catch up with you. You held your stomach as you slide down, back to a wall. Recently you were sent on a quest that was long, and involved a lot of fighting and traveling. Before you eventually found yourself in Liyue, experiencing restless nights.

Normally Ningguang would be in bed by now, seeing as it was late and she always had a busy schedule. However, being a friend of yours, she had been wondering where you were these past few weeks. So when she asked around, naturally she found out that someone had sent you on a very long quest in exchange for a large amount of mora and supplies.

Ningguang scoffed at the thought of you putting yourself in danger for mora, don't you know she has plenty? Don't you know she would give it to you if you so much as mentioned it in a passing comment?

She didn't want to admit it to herself but she loved you. For a long time she thought herself to be incapable of love, her only sights being set on mora, and her only "love" being the Jade Chamber. Until you went and brought all her ideals crashing down.

Ningguang adored the idea of letting you stay with her, letting you get taken care of by the maids and living a nice, less dangerous lifestyle. But she knew you wouldn't stand for it. Still, it never stopped her from dreaming, and always requesting to see you whenever possible.

"Sweetheart, are you feeling unwell?" She finally decided to walk over and check up, when she snapped out of her daydream.

You recognized that voice instantly, as if it were your own. Ningguang, or as she always said, you could call her Ning. Honestly, the weeks you had been gone, you thought about sending back to Ning that you were okay, because you desperately wanted to hear from her again.

"Yea..yeah. I'm okay, thank you Ningguang." Your voice was rasp and Ningguang could tell. But you didn't see her small wince of disgust when you didn't call her Ning.

"Please don't lie to me dear. Come with me." She offered a hand to you, you looked so sweet tilting your head to look up at her. A gentle smile crossing your face.

Ningguang knew there was no words in any language to describe how she felt for you, love? No, something more. But she'll settle with the underwhelming definition of love for now.

With Ningguang helping you up, she never let go of your hand, you looked away to the side at the floor, you knew your face was red. She did too, but knew better than to mention such an embarrassing thing. Though she found it immeasurably cute.

As you walked through the streets of Liyue, you watched the way Ningguang's dress swung, and the way that people looked at the two of you. When people would wave, Ningguang always gave a friendly wave back, and a small smile.

You finally realized where you were going and the night only got darker when the two of you finally got to the Jade Chamber. Ningguang never brought guests up here, not even maids. She cleaned and tidied herself. Despite that, she would always entertain the idea of it being yours and hers.

"Here, I want you to stay here for the night." She finally let go of your hand, and opened the luxurious double doors of the Jade Chamber for you.

She was so straight forward, it was flustering. "Ning, I know what this place means to you, I really wouldn't want to inva-"

"Sweetheart please, rest your head here. It would be my pleasure to help you." You had no idea where to look when you entered, it was beautiful, exquisite and it clearly showed Ningguang's great taste.

You finally settled down in the prettiest room you've ever been in, Ningguang sat at the vanity doing her nightly routine. "Are you feeling any better? Do you need anything, love?"

Her nicknames for you were always so sweet and loving, it really didn't help your feelings for her. You really were in love with her.

"Yes I'm feeling great, I believe my wounds have settled down." You were too busy focusing on the fancy lounge wear Ning had given you to notice her scrunched face, shaped into a scowl.

"Why didn't you tell me you were wounded? Let me take care of you." Getting up from the vanity, she saw you holding your stomach.

"Ning it's fine, really I'm okay. Please don't go out of your wa-" She seemed to have a habit of cutting you off with her actions. It seemed that she was preoccupied with her thoughts.

In her hands she held a small box that she slipped out from underneath the bed, a first aid kit. With only the finest medicines from the pharmacy.

Without warning she pulled you toward the edge of the bed, and sat on the ground facing your stomach.

"May I?" A light question, in response you nod slowly, watching her hands.

She lightly lifted the top she gave you from her wardrobe, the soft silk on her hands looked heavenly.

Her hands danced around your torso as she wrapped the bandages around you. She applied medicine that should help kill some of the pain and help it heal faster.

Finally finishing the wrapping, she slid the box back under the bed, and got up, one hand on her knee.

"Y/N Goodnight, I will check up on you in the morning." She turned to leave but before her hand reached the door handle, Ningguang felt a hand on hers.

"Ning..can..can you stay please?" It was hard to ask her to stay after she had already done so much for you.

"Of course I can, love. Would you like to share the bed tonight. I believe it's big enough to suit the both of us." Her smile was so warm. It made your heart melt.

"Yes..please."

It was real and true bliss to be cuddled up with Ningguang. She thought the same thing about you. How peacefully you slept in her arms, like it was the only place you were ever meant to lay.

You could hear a soft whisper of "I love you" before your dreams began.

[kiras-sunshine]

Beside you in a blinding bliss

Tarlos. 4.4k

For: 911 couple’s retreat  (@911CouplesRetreat) day 1 “you have never looked more beautiful” + hurt/comfort

Summary:

He places it on the floor, near his shin. The fake flame flickers a little, but it is dim, and it certainly doesn’t illuminate the bathroom.

“Now it’s an anniversary,” TK remarks, softly, with a tiny sigh.

ao3

or

**

author’s note: this includes slight descriptions of puking

***

The room spins as Carlos attempts to move and he has to grab the edge of the bathtub to steady himself. He is already sitting on the floor, but even the smallest movement makes spots appear in the corner of his vision and he has to take a couple of deep breaths to get rid of them.

He feels ridiculously weak, and the bathroom smells awful. He cannot get rid of the reeking, even though he has flushed the toilet multiple times since puking his insides out, and he just wants to curl up in a ball and forget the whole day.

The nausea still wallows threateningly in the pit of his stomach, but he isn’t convinced that the guilt wouldn’t be overpowering the waves of nausea.

TK didn’t seem angry or disappointed when he found him puking in the bathroom. If anything, he was just concerned and worried about him. Carlos cannot really blame him, he would probably have the same reaction if it was the other way around, but Carlos cannot help but feel like he has let him down.

It’s their first anniversary, and they actually had plans. Nothing too fancy, but they had a dinner reservation to a place they have meant to try for ages, and he had done the reservation months ago. Sure, it is only a dinner, but it is more about the meaning the date holds rather than about the food.

TK deserves the world, he knows that much and it’s ridiculous and slightly stupid, but he just wanted to give him a nice, stress-free evening and celebrate their love, but apparently even that proved to be too difficult.  

Work was plain terrible. They were understaffed and the whole shift was filled with a call after a call, and he didn’t really have a time to sit down and eat lunch, so he grabbed a sandwich from a food truck and he knew it tasted funny, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the thought too long because the dispatch sent them to another scene.

With his luck, he ended up with a food poisoning.

At least, that is his best guess. He felt a little off when he left the precinct and by the time he got home, the nausea was too strong to keep bottled up inside, and since that he has spent most of the afternoon camping out at the bathroom floor.

Carlos sincerely hopes it is a food poisoning because it could mean he would feel better quicker and the last thing he wants to do is to pass on some stomach bug to TK. It would be a terrible gift as far as anniversary gifts go.

Carlos tries to suppress a yawn and for a moment, he ponders whether he could just lie down and fall asleep on the floor. It feels like every ounce of energy would have been drained out of him, and somehow, even sitting up seems to require too much currently.

His mind definitely feels a little hazy and he knows exhaustion is taking over, but he is almost sure he hears the front door open and close. Despite everything, it makes him smile. It helps to know that he isn’t alone.

A few moments pass before he hears the bathroom door crack open, and TK appears to the bathroom. He is carrying a grocery store plastic bag and Carlos is happy to see him again, but his stomach lurches with guilt as he sees the concern shining in his eyes.

“Your beloved car survived without a scratch,” TK tells him, in apparent form of greeting, as he sits right next to him on the floor without any hesitation. He leans against the bathtub and glances at him, but he presses a kiss on his temple.

Carlos flashes him a lopsided and quick smile.

TK’s driving skills are infamous among the 126, even if they let him drive the ambulance nowadays. Judd sent him a lot of pictures of the destroyed traffic cones when he tried to teach TK to drive the ladder truck. TK himself sent him pictures of the battered rear end of the truck.

Despite all of that, Carlos has always let him drive the Camaro when he has needed it, but still TK immediately took it as some sort of highest form of trust. Carlos does trust him, with everything and anything, so it is not unwarranted of him to think that way, but TK has developed the habit of declaring, after every time he has driven, that his car still remains un-crashed.

“And you?” Carlos asks, hoarsely.

“What?”

“I care a lot more if you survived without a scratch,” Carlos points out, kindly. It feels like an obvious thing to say, but he likes to remind him of it, anyway. He has to close his eyes for a moment because the room spins a little.

Any reluctance he might have towards letting him drive is because he only worries that TK will get himself hurt. But he has seen him drive, he isn’t that bad at it. He just has an unorthodox way of reversing.

“I did,” TK confirms with warm laughter, “I mean I only visited pharmacy and the supermarket.”

Carlos had every intention of texting TK that he wasn’t feeling well when he first got home, but he never got around to do it, and when TK arrived back to the apartment from his own shift, he gave him a full check-up before darting to buy some medicine that would make him feel better and stomach-friendly foods.

“You once got kidnapped from a parking lot,” he mumbles. Moving feels awful, but he rests his head against TK’s shoulder because holding his head up on his own feels impossibly tiring.

“True,” TK says, but his voice softens as he continues, “how are you feeling?”

“Like dying.”

It feels like an honest answer. It is only maybe a tiny bit of exaggeration, but he feels miserable. His stomach aches and cramps, and it is hard to focus on anything else except the nausea. Carlos lifts his hand a little, but as soon as he moves it, it starts to shake.

TK’s fingers immediately curl around his shaking hand and it almost makes it stop. He holds it firmly, but still gently and places their intertwined hands at Carlos’ lap.

Logically, he knows that handholding cannot cure nausea, but it almost feels like it. Feeling the touch of his skin helps him to focus on something else. His touch is almost like a concrete proof that he is not alone and that whatever he is feeling will pass, sooner or later.

TK lets out a sympathetic hum, and his hand feels almost too warm against his. “No dying on my watch, but you do look like crap.”

Carlos snorts. “I guess we’re officially out of the honeymoon stage.”

He means it as a joke, even though his voice comes out a little meek. In all honesty, he has no idea where the end or beginning of their honeymoon stage would lie. He still gets goddamn butterflies in his stomach when TK even as much as smiles at him, and he is probably more in love than ever.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful,” TK replies, and his voice is light and teasing, but it doesn’t sound like a complete joke to his ears, even though it must be.  

Carlos can imagine the way he is looking. He looked pale already in the locker room of the precinct and he knows he is drenched in sweat. Generally, he feels gross. It still feels like a small miracle that TK is willing to sit pressed next to him, kissing his head and holding his hand, without any complaints.

“That’s the spirit,” he manages to crook out before his stomach lurches and he has to puke again.

The sudden movement makes him dizzy and the taste in his mouth is bitter and awful. It sort of feels like he couldn’t breath properly and he is gasping for air, but TK is rubbing his shoulders in a soothing manner and it helps a little to keep the panic at the bay.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, “just breath. You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

He isn’t sure if he loathes more the feeling of sickness or the fact that TK has to be there to witness it. If there is ever anyone in front of whom he has allowed himself to feel weak, it is TK, but he still cannot shake the uneasiness of being so helpless and small in front of him. He is also willing to bet that TK sees a lot grosser things at work on weekly basis, but that doesn’t mean he should witness it from him.

Carlos doesn’t really trust his voice to answer, so he just nods. He wants to believe that and as he catches his breath, he, at least temporarily, feels slightly better.

TK is still stroking his back.  “Have you drunk anything?”

“No.”

He didn’t even manage to drink a gulp of water when he ate that damn sandwich before they were sent to another scene.

Carlos turns around again, placing himself back to the familiar spot against the bathtub. TK studies him with his gaze for a moment before he pulls a bottle of water out of the plastic bag. He hands it to him, and the bottle feels lukewarm in his hands.

“Try to drink a little bit, okay? If it feels bad or you cannot keep it down, I can hook you into an IV bag of saline. If you want to.”  

His voice is soft and sincere, and full of concern, and Carlos cannot tell exactly how serious he is with his offer. All he knows that his first-aid kit has gone through a proper upgrade since TK started at his new job and he wouldn’t be that surprised if they had the equipment for simple infusion, too.

“I don’t think a food poisoning requires a paramedic,” he replies, slightly tentatively because he doesn’t want him to take it the wrong way. He opens the water bottle with shaky hands and takes a small sip out of it.

“Too bad that you’re dating one,” he remarks, but he watches him like a hawk as he keeps slowly drinking the water. “If the water’s fine, then you can take some electrolyte pills with it. They should help too.”

He lets out a non-committal grunt. Carlos doesn’t exactly mind that he is taking care of him. He rather likes it, and it makes him feel loved, but he doesn’t want to burden him after the twenty-hour shift he has just pulled off. “No need to bring work to home.”

TK stares at him for a moment. He squints his eyes a little as he tilts his head to the side. He opens his mouth but abruptly closes it again. “You--,” he starts, but he ends up shaking his head. “I’m not taking care of you ‘cause of some oath I’ve taken at work. I want to take care of you ‘cause I love you, and that’s really not work.”

Carlos looks down on his own hands, a little abashedly. It’s nothing he wouldn’t know already, but it is still a different thing to hear him say it. He knows TK loves him, he tells him it often enough and he shows it, too. It is almost a tangible thing that he can feel, and his love surrounds him every day, and he had no real doubts he would be doing any of this out of anything else except love. But he has lived most of his adult life alone, and it is difficult to accept help when he is used to managing on his own. He wants to accept it, but he cannot silence the part of his mind that keeps insisting that he is asking for too much.

He bites his bottom lip as he looks back up to TK. “Yeah, okay. I know. I’m glad you’re here.”

TK gives him a small smile, but it is definitely genuine one. It makes a different kind of warmth to spread in his stomach.

“Are we in the realm of possibility of leaving the bathroom?”

“Not really,” Carlos breathes out. He wants to leave the hard and cold floor, and possibly crash into the bed, but all of that feels like a distant wish. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine,” TK reassures, sitting back right next to him. “Nothing wrong with a bathroom.”

“You don’t have to stay here,” he points out, softly. He is a grown adult, and he isn’t in any sort of mortal danger. There is no reason why he couldn’t deal with a food poisoning on his own. Knowing that TK is at home would be more than enough.  “This isn’t really how I imagined our anniversary to be.”

“There’s no way I’d leave you alone when you’re feeling this terrible,” he says, without missing a beat, and he sounds determined, “and I brought something.”

TK rummages through the plastic bag and pulls out something small that looks like plastic. He presses something at the bottom of it and orange light appears in the middle of it. Carlos wants to blame his exhausted and dehydrated brain for taking it so long to realise that TK is holding a led candle in the middle of his palm.

He places it on the floor, near his shin. The fake flame flickers a little, but it is dim, and it certainly doesn’t illuminate the bathroom.

“Now it’s an anniversary,” TK remarks, softly, with a tiny sigh.

Carlos is pretty sure his heart clenches with the love he is feeling. The candle itself is a pathetic sight, but it is the thought of it behind it that makes his heart feel too small for all the love it tries to contain.

“That’s—nice,” he says, little lamely, but he appreciates more than he can tell. His mind is still too foggy to form any more coherent sentences and his head suddenly feels a lot heavier than before.

“I had to improvise,” TK laughs, but he stops quickly when he looks at him. “You want to lay down?”

Carlos manages to nod, and suddenly TK’s hands are on his shoulders and he gently and slowly steers him into lying position, but he places his head on his lap. As soon as he settles there, TK’s fingers are already in his hair and he runs them along his scalp.

“You know, I don’t mind that much that our plans got cancelled,” TK says, softly, breaking the silence after a couple of quiet moments.

“You don’t have to try and make me feel better.”

He already feels miserable enough lying curled up on the bathroom floor and using his boyfriend’s thighs as a pillow. His self-pity is already covering all the pity he needs, and he knows he brought this on himself by eating the sandwich even when his instincts told there was something odd about it.

“I’m not just saying it to make you feel better,” TK huffs, almost amusedly, “of course I hope you’d be able to stand on your feet and not to puke everything out, but we can have dinner some other time.”

Carlos knows he is right. It is already a small miracle that both of them have the evening off, and he guesses the meaning and idea of the anniversary is more important than celebrating it on the actual day.

“Yeah.”

“It’s just a day,” TK says, almost casually.

It is ridiculous, but it breaks Carlos’ heart a little. He knows it is not TK’s fault if he isn’t bothered by the cancellation or if he doesn’t see their anniversary the same way as he does, but he cannot control the pang of hurt it creates.

Carlos knows he might come off as a reserved person, but he has always liked to make a big deal of any sort of celebrations he has shared with his loved ones. His sisters’ and friends’ birthdays. Their high school graduations. All the holidays. His parents’ anniversaries. TK’s one year of sobriety.

He likes making his loved ones happy and sharing happy moments with them and showing by that how much he loves and appreciates them, and just how proud he is of them. TK has always appreciated everything he has planned for him, and he had gone out and the above with Carlos’ birthday and with that horrendous tumour cake for his dad.

And it had been nice, that he had finally met someone who appreciated that side of him, and matched with him and made the similar effort for him, but he should have guessed that at some point, eventually, he and TK would clash on it, too.

He knows TK loves him, and it is not like he would be second-guessing his feelings or commitment, but it feels stupid and selfish to hope that the day that is supposed to be about the two of them would hold more significance for him.

That it wouldn’t be just a day among the rest of them.

If there is a silver lining, it is that his nonchalant reaction is easier to deal with than plain disappointment of their plans being cancelled.

“It is,” he lies, quietly.

TK lets out a heavy sigh. “That came out wrong.”

“It’s fine,” he rushes to murmur.

It is the truth. It feels worse than it actually is because he is already wallowing self-pity, and he knows it will be fine once he manages to sleep through the night and when he doesn’t feel like his stomach is plotting to kill him.

“It’s not fine,” TK insists, accompanied by another sigh, but it is a lot softer this time. “The anniversary, it’s a big deal. Of course it is and I want it to be a big deal. And I don’t want you thinking that it wouldn’t mean a lot to me, because it does.”

Carlos quietly hums as a response because it sounds like TK has something more to say.

“You mean a lot to me, and I’ve been so—happy during this year and so obviously I want to go all out on the celebrations, but just—all I wanted, really, was to spend the day with you, and while this,” he continues softly and vaguely gestures towards the bathroom “wasn’t the plan, I’m still not disappointed. I get to be with you, and I love you as much here as I’d in some fancy restaurant.”

Carlos is certain he is so dehydrated that there is no possible way for him to tear up, but still, as he listens to his quiet rambling, his eyes start to sting. It definitely awakes a whole another twirl of emotions inside of his heart, but this time it is just raw happiness, love and plain affection.

A tiny bit of embarrassment mixes in with it all, because he misinterpreted his words and demeanour, but he wants to blame that on his own insecurities and the food poisoning clouding his mind. But he is still a little bit of in awe because somehow TK knew exactly what he needed to hear, and all of it is just overwhelming.

“The restaurant would probably smell better,” Carlos ends up deadpanning, because he is still a little speechless.

A surprised laughter escapes from TK’s mouth and he shakes his head, but he scrunches his nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And it means a lot to me, too,” he adds with more serious tone.

Carlos has known since the beginning that they share a connection that is special and profound, somehow, and he has wanted him since he saw him, but he is still a little bit in awe that they have made it so far despite their rocky start.

He wants him to know it, too, even if his mind cannot come up with anything too eloquent.

“I know,” TK replies, simply, “and you’re in no shape to go to work tomorrow, so I took a day off too.”

He sounds almost delighted as he declares it.

“You didn’t really have to do that.”

It feels just a bit unfair that TK has to use one of his day offs to take care of him, and only because he ate something that had gone stale.

TK brushes his thumb across his forehead gently. “The twenty-minute trip to the store was nerve-wracking enough, I’m not going to leave you alone for twenty-something hours. And it hardly is your fault that you got food poisoning, babe. It’s just bad luck.”

“I’m not complaining if I get to have you all for myself,” he murmurs as he shifts a little on the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, but surprisingly the wave of nausea never comes. “I don’t know about the fault, but I cannot have that bad luck, I still ended up with you.”

TK laughs, and he is pleased because that is what he was aiming for. His laughter is beautiful, and he always wants to hear it, but right now it is the most soothing sound he could imagine.

“This has nothing do with luck,” TK says, gently, “but I sure feel lucky.”

Carlos just smiles at him.

“We could do new plans tomorrow,” he continues, running his fingertip along his collarbone. “I think we both have next Thursday off?”

Carlos knows that they have been together for a year and that it shouldn’t be too big of a surprise that TK knows his shifts by heart, but it still fills him with particularly fond warmth because they both have irregular shifts, so he has to learn his rooster, on top of his own, every week, and he does it every time.

“I guess we can celebrate our 371 days together too,” Carlos caves in, and through the exhaustion, he can feel the corner of his mouth twitching into a gradual but affectionate smile.

Carlos was never too caught up on the idea of celebrating the anniversary on the exact day, but it could have been nice. He guesses the anniversary is more about what they make it out to be, because after all, it is theirs. And knowing that TK is at least as much into the idea of it, warms his heart a lot.

“Exactly,” TK chuckles, “it will be the best 371-day anniversary you’ve ever had. And we can have dinner today, too, once you’re ready to depart the toilet. I’ll come up with something.”

“Trying to give me a double food poisoning? That’s cold.”

He tries his best not to smile, but it is impossible, and a grin breaks out on his face quickly. TK pretends to be shocked and offended, but his smile persistently stays visible, too, and the softness of his gaze never fades. He nudges him gently with his elbow.

“Hey, you’re on a strict stomach-friendly diet and just for that, I’ll mix the applesauce with the rice.”

Carlos frowns at the mere thought of that.

“The other option is bananas and toast. Mint tea is supposed to help, too.”

His stomach is wallowing still, but he is rather sure that all of that would sound unappetizing, even if he was feeling perfectly fine. He is also aware that he will at least try to eat whatever monstrosity TK comes up with because it is still made by him.

“Sounds—bland.”

“It’s supposed to be,” he remarks, “it won’t be a mind-blowing culinary experience, but when anything I’ve cooked for you would’ve been. The difference is that this time it’s going to help and make you feel better.”

“Thank you,” Carlos whispers, more seriously and sincerely than the situation probably calls for, especially when TK is cracking jokes about his own cooking skills, but he wants him to know he is grateful. More than those two little words can convey.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, “are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, a little,” he lets out a sound that only half-resembles a chuckle. “I’m still sorry I ruined tonight.”

TK might not blame him, and maybe, despite his own thinking that this would have been preventable, it is one of those uncontrollable things. Yet, he thinks he deserves an apology.

“Nothing’s ruined, really,” TK starts, “and this isn’t a terrible anniversary. Little unconventional for sure, but we’re together, in love and there’s candlelight, so I think we could’ve done a lot worse.”

“I know,” Carlos breathes out, “the candle really saved this.”

It sends TK laughing again. “And if we’re being completely honest, we have a tendency to mess up dinner plans. Especially the big ones.”

“True.”

“I’m willing to bet that if we ever get married, a natural disaster will strike,” TK jokes.

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Carlos feels how TK’s muscles tense up, and he goes a little still. His fingers stop moving in his hair, but at least he isn’t pulling his hand away.

Marriage isn’t something they have ever outright discussed. Obviously, they are both in it for the long haul, and he has always assumed that marriage is something they are slowly heading towards to. He knows TK has his own baggage about his failed proposal, but it makes him happier than he could say that TK can make jokes about marriage already.

Because Carlos can definitely imagine himself marrying him. He can more than imagine it, he wants to do it. He knows there is no rush, and that taking their time is a good thing, but he would marry him in a heartbeat or in ten years. Either way, he knows it would be something that will bring immense joy to him.

“Bold of you to assume it would be only one natural disaster,” he comments, a brilliant grin spreading on his face, “it will probably be at least two.”

TK immediately relaxes. He lets out a breath and continues to run his fingers through his hair. “There should be a safety manual for the whole thing.”

“Oh, definitely,” Carlos laughs, still little weakly, “evacuation plans and everything.”

After the active volcano, it feels like nothing that the universe throws at their way would surprise him anymore, and he knows they have had their fair share of weird and ridiculous calls, and that they have survived all of that so far, but a wedding would definitely be the biggest dinner possible, and it seems like tempting fate.

“We’ll send it with the invitations.”

He still feels weak and sick, but the feeling of pure happiness is starting to overpower both of them.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Carlos admits, quietly.

“Yeah, me neither.”  

[siempre-pedro]

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Pedro Pascal x Reader 

Summary: Everything is blissful when Pedro asks you to be his dance partner for a dance lesson he has to take for a new role, until you catch a contagious illness and have to cancel. Pedro finds a way to still dance with you and confess his feelings. 

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I’m obsessed with those songs but in another room videos/audio! I wrote this inspired by Paul Anka’s song...but in another room. I recommend listening to it while you read. 

Requests are OPEN

A gentle knock of your apartment door interrupted your glamorous dinner one Monday night. You folded the corner of your magazine and took one final bite of your Lucky Charms before getting up to answer it “Coming,” you shout, your mouth sill full of cereal.

Once you open the door, you swallow your food as fast as you can, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of your hot neighbor. You’d known Pedro for years, he had moved in next to you and sent over a plate of baked goods and a note apologizing in advance for any noise. Both of you were smitten since that day. “Did I interrupt you again?” Pedro asks, grimacing at his awful timing.

“Nah I only got to the who wore it best section this time,” you chuckle, leaning on the cold door frame and tugging your knit sweater up on your shoulder. Pedro ran his fingers through his messy brown hair and then cooly put it in his front pocket “What do you need?”

“A favor,” he responds simply, “when was the last time you danced?” You squint your Y/E/C colored eyes and your lips pucker in thought.

“Senior prom. Why?”

“I signed on to do a project, and I have to learn how to waltz,” he explains, a pink tint rising to his tanned skin. You smile softly and cross your arms over your chest, motioning him to continue. “I found a class on Friday in Midtown, will you please be my partner?”

“Why me?” you ask, trying to hide a giddy smile that was threatening to make an appearance. The man of your dreams was inviting you out and all you do was stand there and look like an idiot! He looked so nervous and precious, standing there fidgeting on his spot.

“You know I have two left feet, I trust you not to laugh at me too much,” he laughs. That was fair, he did, hen he invited you to a friends wedding you got to experience that first hand. “Please, Y/N. I need you,” he begs looks at you with pleading eyes.

“Fine, fine, fine,” you agree “Friday.”

He sighs in relief and pulls his hands from his pockets “You are my savior, Y/N. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll see pick you up at 5 and we’ll take the Subway, yeah?” He plans excitedly, almost bouncing. You bit back a girly laugh and did your best to keep your calm composure.

“I’ll see you then.”

Except you wouldn’t. Tuesday and come and gone and when Wednesday came you woke up with the worst headache of your life. Your neck was so stiff it felt like you were tied to a board, and after some back and forth with yourself, you made an appointment and thankfully, they were able to see you right away. Pedro was texting you nonstop for updates and made silly jokes to calm you. Some made you giggle and others made you groan from second-hand embarrassment.

Those jokes didn’t help when your doctor stood in front of you, his clipboard under his arm, and his eyes looking stern down at you. The older looking man takes a deep breath before giving you the diagnosis “Its meningitis,” he tells you bluntly.

You blink a couple of times, cocking your head as far as it could go without it hurting…which wasn’t that far at all “Meningitis?” you repeat confused, you’d never heard of that before.

The doctor leans against the old counter and uses his free hand to press against the back of his neck “You have an infection that’s causing swelling of the membrane covering your brain and spinal cord, ” he begins to explain, and this is where your daydreams came to a rough stop “It’s highly contagious and often deadly, seizures, brain damage, hearing loss.”

Your eyes widened at the amount of emphasis he used in ‘highly’ “Oh,” was all you could say. Fuck now you were afraid you were going to die! You couldn’t tell Pedro you liked him if you were dead. “H-how bad is my case?” you ask meekly, your eyebrows turning upwards in worry.

“Thankfully we caught it early and the infection is only bacterial, I’ll be giving you the best antibiotics I can and you should come out of this with no side effects,” he tells you, taking his clipboard from his arm to start writing down a prescription. Here comes another kicker “You need to be quarantined for at least a week, no face to face interaction with other people.”

“I have a date Friday,” you say without thinking about what you just blurted out. The doctor looks up from his clipboard and gave you a look that said ‘are you serious?’

“Do you want them to get infected?”

“No.”

He laughs “Then stay home and rest. I’ll supply you with a few masks to get home, then no going out. You go to the pharmacy and go home. Got it?”

You smile at him “I do. Thank you, Doc.”

Telling Pedro you couldn’t go dancing with him may have been the hardest thing you’d ever have to do. You imagined it was going to crush him as bad as it did you. You lean back in your seat on the train, passengers saw your blue medical mask and creating a bubble around you, at least you were alone-ish. Sliding your phone out of your pocket you begin to text him ‘I’m on my way back.’

He replies almost instantly ‘How’d it go? Are you ok?’

‘I have meningitis. A brain infection basically.’

‘Jesus Christ. Are you going to live???’

‘lol yeah. I have to be quarantined for at least a week. I’m HIGHLY contagious. I can’t go with you Friday, I’m so sorry Pedro.’

Pedro’s quick responses ceased. You were constantly checking your phone every few seconds to see if he texted back. You watched your screen intensely, no pop-up messages were appearing, and when it did it was just an Instagram notification that gave you false hope. It took the actor 7 minutes to finally respond.

‘Fuck. Please don’t worry Y/N, I just really want you to get better! I’ll go to that bodega down the street and get you a few things so you don’t starve and stuff.’

Fuck this guy for taking care of you, fuck him for being sweet and nice and everything you wanted him to be. Too bad you were breaking both your hearts, you think. No Pedro was fine you assumed, just helping out a friend.

When you got back to your apartment you found two grey plastic grocery bags filled with Gatorade, semi-healthy snacks, and Tylenol you assumed. On the bag was a neon yellow sticky note ‘I hope I got you everything you needed. I’ll see you in a few days : ) – Pedro’ it read. You smiled softly to yourself and picked up the bags, ready for the lonely week ahead.

Thursday you were in the worst pain of your life, it was like that scene if Ferris Beuller’s Day Off when Cameron was in bed telling Ferris that he was dying, unable to move. That was you, 80s music and all as you laid hopelessly in your bed, surrounded by clear bottles of Gatorade and snacks that Pedro provided. Pedro himself was only adding to your pain, his constant texts asking how you were and trying to make you feel somewhat better was backfiring, you still felt terrible about the dance class. In the evening Pedro would knock on your door, leaving your mail in front of the doorstep.  Too bad you couldn’t move to get it.

Friday you were able to accomplish getting out of bed and slowly moving around your apartment. You were leaning on your kitchen counter, chicken noodle soup near boil in a silver pot in front of you. You checked the clock on your microwave ‘4:58’ it read in glowing blue letters, Pedro would be leaving at any moment. That is if he was really going of course.

He was, the door to his apartment closed loudly and a light giggle rang through the walls. You stood stiff, that was a female voice. You rushed to grab a medical mask in the living room, tugging on your gray oversized sweater and a good excuse in your mind.

Your door opened in a rush and you stood in the hallway, the speed of everything got Pedro and the woman’s attention. God she was beautiful, tall and bronzed with silky long black hair, if they needed a new Miss Universe it would’ve been her. She was your foil, you were there in sweatpants and your hair greasy hair pulled up into a high bun, a blue medical mask covering your frown but they couldn’t conceal your dark bags. “Y/n,” Pedro speaks cautiously like a man in a relationship getting caught with another woman. The tall skyscraper of a woman scans you up and down disapprovingly and you didn’t miss her taking a step back when you coughed. “This is Katerina. Kat this is Y/n.”

“Hi,” she sighs, and you simply wave at her before crossing your arms over your chest defensively. Katerina, you hated the way he said her name with that accent of his. Your heart was shattered, would rather dance with her. Your mind quickly flashed to him leaning in to kiss her while they danced, their bodies pressed together.

“What are you doing outside?” he asks you with concern.

You bit your quivering lower lip and replied in a faltering tone “I just came to get my mail.”

Pedro’s dark brown eyes look at you sympathetically “Do you need it right now?”

The tears started to form in your eyes, she probably thought you were ridden with disease “N-no.”

“Please go rest, I promise to bring it to you tonight,” he pleads.

“Pedro we need to go, the Uber’s out front,” Katerina interjects.

You didn’t say anything as he offers a guilty smile before walking off with her. Once their figures disappear down the hall you take in a sharp breath, tears falling down your cheeks. Why did you have to get sick? Why did it have to be contagious? Why did he choose her? You were so angry and jealous and it going to the window in your bedroom to watch him help her into the Uber fueled the angry green fire in your soul.

Later that night you sat on your couch brooding, that night’s rerun of Entertainment Tonight providing background noise as you angrily flipped through Vogue. Pedro would be back any moment, and you were just waiting to hear Katerina’s obnoxious giggles. Soon enough Pedro’s front door opened and shut, no exchanges of words or laughter could be heard. Maybe he did come home alone and you were worrying for nothing.

Music started to play from the apartment next to you, the 50s song you recognized from your father's collection and that one all the kids were into these days. Why was he playing it this loud? You could hear Paul Anka’s voice over Kevin Frasiers on the tv, the bass gently thumping the wall behind you.

Your phone started to ring, Pedro’s name and goofy face popped up “Pedro you’re going to have to pay another fine if you keep it this loud,” you say playfully as you answer it.

“How are you feeling?” He asks lowly.

“Better.”

“Good, stand up,” he instructs.

“W-why?”

“Do his for me Y/N, please,” he sighs.

You shrug and oblige, putting your magazine to the side and standing up in the middle of your apartment “Now what?” you inquire.

“Can you hear the music?”

“How can I not… I’m sorry, yes, yes I can,” you laugh.

“Good, now close your eyes and imagine I’m with you…we’re dancing,” he tells you and you do what he says. You smile and start slowly swaying to the song “I really wish you were with me tonight.”

“You didn’t like what’s her name as a partner?”

Pedro chuckles and closes his eyes “No she was fine. I just wish it was you… my first choice.”

“First choice?” you question.

“You’re always my first choice, Y/N.”

‘put your head on my shoulder’ you cock your head to the side and imagine your putting your head in the crook of his neck, the smell of his cologne bringing a sense of comfort. “I didn’t mean to get sick,” you confess.

“I know, I know… I’m not upset at you or anything. I just had bigger plans for this evening,” he admits, a pink tint rising to his cheeks.

“Which are?” you hum.

“I wanted to tell you that I liked you. More than a friend.” Your eyes open and you snap out of the fantasy, your heart ready to burst from your chest.

“Pedro,” you breathed, wishing he could see the blissful smile. “I’ve liked you since you moved in.”

There’s a silence on both ends, the romantic song filling the void but soon he speaks “Once your better you’ll dance with me?” he wonders.

“I promise,” you say, and the fatigue sets in, “I-I’m getting tired, I did too much today”

Pedro hums in contentment “Go to sleep, I’ll bring your mail and slide it under the door. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Pedro,” you whisper. As you hang up the song ends, your eyes look at the wall that divided your apartments and smiled all the way to your bed.

[its-me-jessi]

Back To The History PT5

Pairing: Hvitserk X Reader

Summary: After arriving in king Harald’s kingdom everything is going to change.

A/N: At first, I want to apologize for taking so long writing this part, but I still hope you’ll enjoy this part as well. 🤗😇 As always, I’d appreciate any kind of feedback. Feel free to leave comments or reblog. 😊

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Before I knew it, I found myself sitting on the bottom of a viking ship. After I agreed to raid with them or rather was forced to, I didn’t have much time to prepare myself for this new kind of journey. Before dawn we had to leave the harbor and with it the town I finally got used to behind. I didn’t get much sleep. While Hvitserk was sleeping peacefully like a marmot beside me I couldn’t stop thinking about the raid. Soon there would be a battle in which again countless people will die and with it a dozen of families will experience a great loss. I thought about the people I got to know in the past month of me being there as well as Hvitserk who I unexpectedly fell deeply in love with. I loved him so much, I couldn’t stand him being hurt or even dead. Without him I had no one I could trust like I can trust him. There wouldn’t be anyone who would let me feel like home as he did. He was as important for me as my family and friends back in my timezone were.

One thought lead to another and now I was starring into the still not brightened sky and thought about all the things I missed about my old life. Will I ever see them again?  

“You should get some sleep. We got a long day ahead of us.”, Hvitserk said to me while adjusting the fur which was supposed to keep me warm in such a cold night. I thanked him before I shook my head. “I’m not really tired!”. 

As I looked at him, I noticed he was watching me in disbelief. “What is it really that keeps you from sleeping?”, He knew just by looking at me that something was wrong. “You’re worried, aren’t you? – Trust me, I’ll always be by your side and make sure you’re safe! I won’t let anything happen to you!”, he promised. 

“I know, but it’s not that. I’m more worried about you! I don't want anything to happen to you!”. He just pulled me into his arms and leaned his head on mine. The fur around my shoulders could never warm me up like he could warm up not only my body but also my heart. “Don’t worry so much about me, I’ll be fine. I have to be or else I would never get to do this again!”, he laid a hand on the back of my head and pulled me in a loving kiss.

_

“Now tell me, what else is it, you’re worried about?”, he asked me while pulling me back into his embrace. 

“I was just thinking about my family and friends. I’m already gone for a quite long time and I’m wondering how life’s going for them.”, I snuggled up to him while looking into the distance remembering my life how it was before. 

“Do you want to go back?”, as well lost in thought Hvitserk was staring down at me. He was worried I would actually leave him and all we had behind. His eyes reflected his worries for me to see as I looked up to him. “I would be lying if I said no but I wouldn’t leave if that meant I wouldn’t have you by my side. I want to go back, yes, but not without you!”, I looked at him intensely, “My family and friends are very important to me but so are you! I would never give you up! Don’t even think about it!”. 

“I’m glad you say that. We just found each other; I don’t want to let go of you.”, he emphasized. 

“You won’t need to besides I don’t even know if I’d ever have the chance to go back.”, I said watching my surroundings.  Ivar was watching us from behind and as I noticed I lowered my voice not wanting him to grow more suspicious: “I still don’t quite know how I got here and with it I have no clue how to go back.”.

_

It took quite a long time till we reached the port of our destination. I was glad to finally go off board and feel solid ground under my feet again. I was never a big fan of boat trips. That doesn’t mean I hate them I just don’t like the thought of being separated from land. “So that’s the kingdom of king Harald.”, I thought looking around while following king Haralds men. On our way we passed by people who were pulling a dead whale out of the water. As I was closely watching my surroundings, I understood that whaling was a peculiarity of that kingdom.

“So, you want me and my warriors to support you when you attack Kattegat?!”, king Harald was sitting on his throne talking to Ivar and Hvitserk. I was just standing behind them next to a very few of Ivars men. Even if I could I should not interfere in their plan. No matter how I thought of the plan, I wasn’t supposed to change the past and risk the future I know.

Quietly I just listened to their conversation until my name was mentioned. It was the first time Harald turned his attention to me and Ivar as well as Hvitserk turned around to look at me. Not quite sure what this was about I looked at them confused. “King Harald may I introduce this woman to you. That’s Y/N. One day she suddenly turned up in York and since then she’s with us.”, Ivar told him. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. Where are you from?”, Harald asked me. 

Here we go again. I struggled for words and as Ivar took notice of it, he laughed. “She won’t tell anyone! – Except for my brother. She might already have told him.”, Ivar leaned on his crutches and looked to his right to Hvitserk, “obviously you two are quite close.”. 

I looked at Hvitserk waiting for his reaction. “She didn’t tell me!”, Hvitserk lied convincingly and I tried my best not to seem relieved by his answer, because there were still people watching me. Ivar was already suspecting me and now Harald grew suspicious as well. That’s also the reason why they forbid me going to Kattegat with them much to Hvitserks relieve. He was worried something could happen to me. “You could get killed!”, he spoke to me. “I could get killed no matter where I am! I could die here as well as in battle!”, I answered. “You’ll be safe here! My men will protect you!”, Harald assured me. 

_

The next days I always had the feeling of somebody watching me, but I couldn’t tell whose pair of eyes it were which were watching me every step. I knew Harald and especially Ivar didn’t trust me, but would they send someone to spy on me? Possibly yes. So, knowing I was being watched I behaved just like anyone else. Even in conversations I had with Hvitserk I was wary of saying anything about my past life. If we did talk about the future, we had to do it extremely secretly.

“You won’t be gone by the time I come back, right?”, shortly before he had to leave, we were standing in the middle of our chamber embracing each other with the door closed behind us. He looked deeply into my eyes searching for assurance. 

“No, I won’t be gone! I will be right here thinking about you and waiting for you to safely return!”, I smiled up to him. He was already dressed in armor ready to fight. “Promise me to be careful! I don’t want you to get hurt!”. 

“I won’t, I promise! After all I’m planning to tell you something important when I come back!”, he kissed my forehead before looking out of the window to the harbor. “I have to go now.”, Hvitserk sighed before he took my face in his both hands and kissed me lovingly. 

“Promise me I’ll see you again!”, he pleaded me as if his life was depending on it. “I promise!”, I said before he went out. I would have never made that promise if I had known I couldn’t keep it. 

_

That night I didn’t sleep peacefully. The fact that there was a man outside of my chamber making sure I wouldn’t leave was definitely one possible reason for that as well as the full moon whose bright light was shining through the window, but the more decisive reason was the dream I had. I dreamed of my past life. It was a normal day at work. I served the last customer before I went into the cloakroom to take of my pharmacy smock and grab my bag. After I said goodbye to my co-worker, I left the pharmacy and hurried to the train station. My train would leave in exactly 13 minutes. I hurried along the streets until the loud sound of the church bells made me stop. The noise brought me to my knees, and I held my ears. The dream felt so real and the ringing of the bells were so loud as if they were directly next to me.  As I woke up from that dream the noise immediately fell silent and I sighed relieved. Thank god it stopped. As I opened my eyes, I realized the noise wasn’t the most shocking thing. It was the fact that I found myself standing in front of a modern church in the middle of a city I knew too well. I’m still dreaming. With my eyes wide open I looked around and to my surprise I recognized every single building I saw. Am I back?  I didn’t believe it until I got a message of a friend of mine. After I took out my phone and looked at the display I was startled. It was the exact same date I had seen my home for the last time. No wonder everything felt extremely familiar to me. I’m back.

Thank you so much for reading and stay healthy everyone!😇

Tagged: @alexa4040 @lordsexmachine

[rekutopia]

In which Shirayuki came home to a surprise (part 2)

A part of the Flatmate AU (one, two, three, four, five, in accidental order)

“So tell me, girl, what happened?”

Yuzuri gazed closely at her friend. Shirayuki still appeared rather distressed but at least she seemed warm sitting on her bed of thousand pillows while tucked comfortably under her fluffy blanket. She had on Yuzuri’s pink pyjamas and woollen socks in rainbow colours. In her hand, she was holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate. She had also taken a hot shower and Yuzuri had fed her with sweet pumpkin soup – from the can, but hey, she showed up at very short notice.

Her friend lifted her chin slightly up and looked her in the eyes. Yuzuri could almost see the gears turning inside her head, weighing whether and how to explain whatever it was that turned her from a very happy muffin to a sad, miserable one in a course of only a couple of hours. She inhaled deeply and opened her mouth.

“Obi was having sex with Aki when I got home so I panicked and decided I couldn’t stay and went to your place instead,” she said in one long breath.

Yuzuri blinked. “Um. Okay.”

Shirayuki sighed and placed the mug on the bedside table. Then she shifted and hugged both her knees, resting her head on them. “It’s fine, Yuzu, you can say it.”

“Say what?”

“‘I told you so’”.

There might have been a small pool of tears slowly forming on her friend’s lower lashes. Before Yuzuri could get a better look Shirayuki nuzzled her face on her own knees, wiping them away. “I’m so stupid, Yuzu. I know I can’t fall for him. And look at me now.”

Yuzuri scooted closer and pulled Shirayuki carefully into a tight hug. “Oh honey, you’re not stupid. No one can forbid you to fall in love with Obi, not even yourself.” She tried to free her friend’s wet face from a couple of loose red strands. “Besides, Obi’s such a lovely person, and you’ve been living together with him since what, 3 years? It’s no wonder you fell for him.”

“Only a stupid girl fell in love with her gay best friend,” snorted Shirayuki into Yuzuri’s shoulder.

“Well, yea, that is, like, one of the saddest things that could happen to a girl,” Yuzuri said and earned a pinch on her thigh.

“Thank you very much.” Shirayuki half glared at her and half wiping her tears.

“But girl, when we talked about this before I thought you said you were, what was it? Toughing up yourself and building a mental barrier against his charm? Whatever happened to that?”

Shirayuki looked at her friend sheepishly. “Mmh, it...didn’t really work, I suppose. The charm is too strong...”

Yuzuri raised an eyebrow and gave the other girl a suspicious look. “Yea, we both know how strong his charm is. Especially with all the special treatments you’ve been getting lately, what with the case and all.”

Though Yuzuri was slightly amused from how her senior pharmacist reacted, she couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her. It's not like you can stop yourself from falling in love. And it’s hard enough when the other person didn’t reciprocate your feelings, let alone when it was impossible from the beginning – unless they could somehow stay in platonic love. But knowing Shirayuki, she has already passed the platonic stage from the first year.

Yuzuri kissed the top of Shirayuki’s head fondly. “I’m so sorry, Yuki. I wish there’s anything I could say or do to make you feel better.”

Shirayuki shook her head. “I’m already feeling better, thank you, Yuzu. I’ll be alright soon.”

“Shall we go to sleep? You’ll feel much better in the morning.”

Shirayuki nodded and buried herself deeper between the pillows, curling into a ball. Beside her, Yuzuri crawled inside the blanket and turned off the light while wishing her good night.

----

The clock on the dresser showed its glowing cypher. It was already 02:11 but it didn't seem like sleep was coming to visit her anytime soon. Except for the clock the room was pitched black. Shirayuki was not used to sleep in a room without any lights at all. Despite her drawn curtains lights from outside her window could still seep in. Yuzuri’s flat has light-blocking blinds and she always let them fall completely.

The darkness was not the only thing that kept her awake. Her mind was playing the scenes that happened since she entered her flat over and over again.

The happiness when she smelled Obi’s cooking. The arousal when she heard Obi’s erotic moans. The dismay when she heard Aki’s voice. The way everything was like a blur before she arrived at Yuzuri’s place.

It was only after she took a shower and had dinner that she recovered from her daze. She could even pull herself together and texted Obi to let him know she was not coming home tonight. His answer was sweet, unmeddling but not without worry, as usual.

If it weren’t for Yuzuri lying beside her, Shirayuki would have groaned and smacked herself.

Stop thinking about Obi!

But she couldn’t. And if she could be truly honest with herself, she didn’t want to. In her mind, an invisible hand kept opening drawers after drawers of memories of him, from the ones still freshly filled to the ones she tried to lock up and forget.

It started by presenting her all the things they did together – all the things he did for her – from the moment he came into her life. It was all Yuzuri’s fault, now that she thought of it. If it wasn’t for her, she’d never met him. She would probably be living alone in a tiny apartment somewhere outside of Munich and she would have to commute to work but she would be happy instead of broken-hearted–

Shirayuki stopped her thought at that point. Considering her disastrous history with men, there was no guarantee that some other guy wouldn't break her heart then, if not worse. Besides, she was happy. Living with Obi was the best thing that could ever happen to her. He brought her out of her shell. He showed her things and took her to places she didn’t even realise existed – like that one LGBT bar in their neighbourhood. Yes, a very sexy girl with very little on had almost kissed her and she was trying not to freak out the whole time but they had a good laugh after that and it was another exciting experience Shirayuki could file in her book. A book she would probably not even possess if not for Obi.

She sighed inwardly. Some mental barrier I’ve been building. Might as well crumble it down.

And so Shirayuki gave up trying not to think about her flatmate. She allowed herself to feel the tightness on her chest with every bit of memory she pulled out of her mental drawers. She surrender herself willingly in the warmth and pain that came with them.

The way his smirk turned into a kind smile when he noticed her embarrassment after his teasing, and how he always stopped before they turn into something mean.

The way his tired eyes lighted up whenever he came home from a late shift and found she was still reading in the living room.

The way their legs were tangled together whenever they watched a movie on the couch, a popcorn bowl between their thighs.

The way his front touched her back lightly each time he reached for the cupboard above her while cooking, enveloping her with his scent even for just a few seconds.

The way he placed his chin on her shoulder when he demanded her to shift her attention from the screen to him–

–All those sweet little things did not belong to her. Not anymore. Maybe they had never been. 

And that was when Shirayuki forced herself to break her line of thought before her mind could show her even more of things that made her long for her best friend. Stupid, mundane things, such as the way drops of water fell from the tips of his dark hair to his tanned bare shoulders after a shower.

Shirayuki did not wish for Obi to be her boyfriend. She knew it was useless to wish for something impossible. But during the time they lived together, Obi had never been in any romantic relationships – at least none she was aware of. It gave her the illusion that he would never be in one. That he would always be her Obi, whatever that even meant.

She bit her lip and choked back the tears that were threatening to fall again. She should not make Yuzuri more worried. It’s not like there’s anything she could do about this. She just had to face the fact – she was in love with Obi. And Obi was with Aki. Hers was a love that was destined to wither before it had even the chance to bloom. She knew it from the start so there was no point in crying now.

Tonight. Only tonight she would allow herself to wallow in sorrow. Tomorrow she would lock her feelings away in the deepest corner of her heart. She would do her best to forget about her love for her flatmate. That Zen Wisteria had invited her for dinner to celebrate GG Pharmacy’s victory. Might as well be their first date. She couldn’t deny she was also curious about the guy and it would be a perfect reason to keep her mind off Obi.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be a new day.

*****

Aki wiped the small towel carefully over Obi’s back, taking extra care where beads of sweat had slightly pooled between his shoulder blades and on his venus dimples. The leaner guy was lying face down on the futon, spent. Though his breath was no longer laboured, he was still inhaling and exhaling deeply, trying to relax his muscles. 

“Feel better?”

Obi shifted gradually to a sitting position, moving his shoulders back and forth in circular motions, then twisting his upper body left and right to check his lower back. “Yea, the pain’s all gone.” He took a last deep breath, cracked his neck once, twice, and grinned at his friend. “You’re the best, Aki-chan, thanks.”

“No, thank you,” Aki grinned back mischievously, slapping the towel on Obi’s hip. “At least now I have an idea of how you’d sound in bed since you never gave me the opportunity to find out.”

Obi snorted and threw a cocky smirk at the other man. “I’ll let you know I’d sound much better then.”

“I’ll believe it when I hear it, love.”

Obi’s smirk dropped to a frown. “You should really stop calling me that.”

Aki sighed and held both hands up. “My bad. Hard habit to break,” he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “It’s just so easy to call you that, but I get it. Friends don’t call each other ‘love’,” he said in a mocking voice, making air quotes. Then he reached out to Obi and pinched the other man’s chin yearningly. “It was still the best two months of my life, though sex would’ve made it even more unforgettable.”

Obi huffed and yanked his head free. He was used to Aki’s teasing. He’s had a fair share of his own. When Obi met him at the beginning of the year he thought the guy could be someone compatible for him and admittedly, the time when they were together was fun, albeit short.

“Have you at least made a progress with the little redhead?” Aki’s voice startled him from his musings.

“What?” he squawked, not expecting the turn in the conversation. While Obi had taken his time to think about whether his relationship with Aki didn't fail because of his, apparently, inextinguishable pining for his flatmate, it had absolutely nothing to do with Shirayuki’s own feelings towards him. Which, in a romantic way, was simply non-existing.

“I told you she doesn’t like me that way,” Obi said, pulling his black, long-sleeved shirt back on while deliberately avoiding Aki’s gaze. “I’m just fulfilling my role as a supportive friend. She’s been having a hard time at work.” Then he looked up as he heard the other man’s scoff.

“Oh come on, have you never noticed the way she looks at you?” Aki groaned and his eyes rolled to the sky when he saw Obi’s blank expression. “And here I was hoping that my sacrifice would bring you golden-eyed, red-haired babies soon,” he mumbled disbelievingly.

Obi gave his friend a crooked smile. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you.” But my feelings are my own responsibility. He opted to change the subject instead. “Could I offer you dinner, as a thank-you for your service?”

Aki curled up his lips in anticipation. “Depends on the menu.”

“Obi’s special black pepper tofu”.

“...Tofu?” Aki wrinkled his nose. Then he grinned and leaned closer to the other man. “I’d rather have you instead.”

Obi yelped and jerked away as Aki went for his ear with his teeth.

----

Only after Aki had left did Obi concern himself with the fact that Shirayuki was not yet home. This was highly unusual. Did she have an emergency order? Did she say she would come home late and he just forgot? Obi checked his phone but only saw his mother’s orange tabby glaring back at him from the lock-screen. Nope, no new messages.

When his shift changed unexpectedly today, Obi decided to use his free time to surprise Shirayuki. The general temperature had dropped today and he thought Shirayuki might like to come home to a hot meal. He chose the only spicy dish in his repertoire that her tongue could take and even substituted the beef with tofu, for obvious reasons.

Making a mental note to call his flatmate, Obi went to the kitchen and started heating up his dinner. It was already past eight and his stomach was growling. He was about to dish the plate when his phone buzzed.

[Little Miss, 20:16] Hi Obi, I'm sorry I didn't text you sooner. Something came up at work. It’s going to take a while until we’re finished, so I’m gonna stay at Yuzuri’s place tonight. See you tomorrow.

Obi frowned. It must have something to do with that case again. And there he thought the matter was slowly coming to an end and that the pharmacy ladies could finally take a breather. Oh, well. He eyed the food in the wok ruefully.

[Me, 20:17] it’s ok sweetie *smile emoji*

[Me, 20:17] say hi to yuzuri *wave emoji*

[Me, 20:17] tell her to make you dinner *pasta emoji*

[Me, 20:17] too bad you miss my black pepp–

Obi paused for a moment, then hit the backspace and deleted the last one. No need to make the little miss feel guilty about his surprise.

[Me, 20:17] take care

[Me, 20:18] don’t work too hard *winking kiss emoji*

[team-science-mega-nerds]

Fictober Prompt: “You keep me warm”

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Alex x Sam

This isn’t her first choice. In fact, this isn’t even her last choice. Sam hadn’t really considered the idea at all until she’d heard that the vet’s office was all filled up on slots for the weekend and Sam would have to pay $75 more a night, just to board her pup at someplace fancier. It’s not that she doesn’t love her little guy more than anything in the world, but she barely had enough money to get home and go to her aunt’s funeral, she certainly couldn’t afford this. 

And then it hits her. Literally, as it turns out.

Her neighbor is heading toward the apartment right across the hall from Sam’s and bumps right into Sam’s side with a homf. “Ohmygod!” Sam’s eyes widen when she sees that her neighbor, Alex, is carrying a large 3D printer. “Sorry,” Alex mumbles as she struggles to open her door while also balancing the printer. 

“Oh. Hi. Do you need…?” Sam reaches for Alex’s keychain and sees that there are about fifty keys on the ring. “Jesus.”

“Yeah, I work in a lab. Lots of hush-hush stuff. It’s the small gold one,” Alex points out. Sam finds the key and opens the door for Alex. While Alex waddles her way into her apartment - which is a surprising mix of eclectic trinkets, bold colors, and three different coffee makers - Sam gets an idea. 

“Hey, are you busy today slash tomorrow?” Alex puts the printer in the corner of the room and turns toward Sam with something that resembles suspicion in her eyes. “I...so my aunt’s dead.”

“Oh god.”

“Her funeral is tomorrow and I need to...but then there’s my dog and I kinda need someone to…” Sam runs her fingers through her hair. “Do you mind watching him for two days? I’ll pay you and he’s really good. Like really good. But needy. Like mother like doggo,” Sam pauses for a laugh, Alex continues to look slightly confused. “I can pack up everything and write what he needs, it’s just-.”

“Say no more. I love dogs.” Sam doesn’t exactly know that she can trust Alex but she knows that Alex organizes game nights at the apartment complex. And that she seems to have a stable - probably very weird too - job. But Sam doesn’t have much of a choice. Alex is so eager and happy when Sam brings her dog over that she thinks it just might work. 

“Um, I should give you my number. Just in case. I mean...nothing will go wrong, obviously, but...just in case.” They exchange numbers while Sam’s dog walks around Alex’s apartment smelling everything. Sam gives Alex a warm smile, kisses her pup on the head, and gathers her things to go to the airport. 

Which leaves Alex, now, in a bind. Alex does the only thing she can think to do which is turn on her phone, hit her speed dial, and wait. Elated brown eyes stare at her, so Alex seeks out treats to toss his way. “Good boy, who’s a good boy.” Alex knows that this is how it’s done because she’s gone to a dog park with Kara. Gentle head rubs, a little scratch of the ears, and dogs are all yours. “You are so cute, aren’t you, Chewy?” The tail-wagging seems like a good sign so Alex keeps scratching and feeding the dog treats until she hears a loud knock at her door. “It’s open, come in!” 

“Are you on crack?” This is a totally normal thing for Lucy to say but the way her eyes are popping out of their sockets like she’s some kind of creepy rag doll unnerves Alex a little bit. “You got a dog?” Lucy flings her bag on Alex’s couch and walks over to survey the situation. “You’re allergic to dogs, you absolute moron.” 

“I know that!” Alex continues petting Chewy. “Ignore her, she’s rude,” She tells him. 

Lucy dramatically sniffs the air. “What is it that I smell? Is it the dog or…” Lucy gets really close to Alex and gives her a big whiff. “Is that the stench of you going out of your way for a hot girl?”

“I’m not going out of my way. I’m being friendly. Neighborly.” 

“Okay, Mr. Rogers.” 

“I called you because I need to go to CVS and get some allergy meds. Can you stay here for me?”

“Sure,” Lucy says, already laying on the floor and playing with Chewy. “What’s this big guy’s name?” 

“Chewy,” Alex tells her. Then she remembers, “It’s short for Chewbarka.” Alex can still hear Lucy laughing even as she’s outside of her apartment and walking down the street toward the pharmacy. Okay, Alex will admit it, she thinks Sam is hot. In fact, Alex had mentioned it to Kara as soon as Sam moved across the hall. They occasionally interacted but never to the extent of anything substantial. Until today. She supposes that’s why she jumped at the chance. She didn’t have anything to do this weekend except play with her new 3D printer and she really did like dogs, even if they made her sneeze and itch like crazy. 

Alex’s heart warms at the sight of Chewy getting his belly rubbed when she return. Just as Alex joins in on the action, “I’d stay but I have to get to work.” 

“All good. I’ll be fine here.” 

“Sureee…” Lucy grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder. “Exactly how hot is this woman?” Alex pulls up Sam’s Instagram and shows it to Lucy. “...don’t fuck it up with the dog and you might actually have a chance, Danvers.” 

Alex prepares herself for the worst. She sets up Chewy’s bed, makes sure she gets the exact measurements of food correct, gives him filtered water, and takes him on a long walk. Alex wonders if this is what it’s like to be a parent. Constantly thinking about someone other than yourself and being too stressed to function. Alex is shocked that all Chewy seems to want to do is cuddle up next to her and watch Netflix.

At one point, Chewy is sprawled out on top of Alex, leaving her hardly any room to breathe, but it’s so damn cute that Alex has to take a selfie. And then...she sends it to Sam. “Why did I do that?” She mumbles to herself, waking up Chewy just enough that he gives her a big lick on her cheek. “What do you wanna watch? Maybe we can find a dog movie?” Alex scrolls around her Netflix. “Dogs always die in movies though…” Alex’s eyes find her printer and she smiles. “I can make you a bunch of dog accessories?” Alex suggests and Chewy gives her another kiss. 

That’ll have to do. 

The thing that Alex realized a very young age was that once she starts a task, she tends to go overboard. Her intention was making a little dog tag for Chewy but what she ends up making is a dog tag, armor so he can be a knight for Halloween, bunny ears in case he wants a second costume, a food dispenser, and sixteen different toys he could play with. “Oh shit, that’s...a lot.” Alex’s phone buzzes and she sees that it’s a text from Sam. 

[SAM]: this is maybe the best picture I’ve ever received, you two look so cute!

Alex doesn’t dwell on the fact that Sam called her cute. There’s a dog involved, anyone is cute with a dog. “Chewy, what do I say?” Chewy doesn’t offer up anything but a nuzzle, so Alex simply likes the message and tries to move on with her life. Which is going really well until her heat cuts off at 11 PM. 

Normally, she’d survive it. It’s California and Alex has blankets, but tonight she’s actually shivering and thinks she might have to go over to Kara’s until Chewy climbs onto her bed and cuddles up next to her. “Thanks, buddy. You keep me warm and I’ll keep you warm.” Alex gets a cozy night's sleep for the first time in five years and wakes to the sound of her phone ringing. She answers without even looking to see who it is. “Hello?” Groggy mumbling would probably best describe Alex’s voice right now. The fact that she’d, apparently, slept until 3 PM makes her feel embarrassed and confused. 

“Wow, you sound adorable.” It’s Sam. Alex sits up and Chewy raises his head to see what’s going on. “I’m outside your door.” Alex climbs to her feet, sprints across her apartment, and flings the door open. “Wow, you’re…” Sam looks at Alex’s attire: sweatpants, fuzzy socks, a hoodie, and a wool hat. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, but...heat went out last night.” Chewy’s entire body wags as he rushes at Sam. “This guy was a really good heater.” 

“God, Alex, thank you so…” Sam takes in the sight of all the new dog toys and costumes. “...much.” 

“I might’ve gotten a little carried away.” Alex gathers the toys into a giant paper bag and holds them out toward Sam. “Also I love Chewbarka but my allergy meds are wearing off, so I should probably sneeze for a few hours.” Sam takes the bag with an awkward smile and then cocks her head to the side. 

“Wait...you’re allergic to dogs?”

“Um...yes?”

“Well, why did you take him? I wouldn’t have asked if I knew he was going to kill you.” 

“He didn’t kill me! The cold weather would’ve killed me. Chewy and I got along just fine, he’s a great Netflix buddy.” Alex scratches his head. 

“If you say so.” Sam smiles a little brighter now. “Maybe once I unpack and you take some allergy medication, I could come over and we could watch Netflix and...chill?” Sam says the word chill with a wink before taking Chewy and all his new toys back to his apartment. 

Alex closes her door and sneezes so hard that she nearly tumbles to the ground.

[joongzone-blog]

ateez reaction to you playing a viagra prank on them (m)

anon: omg love your writing. can i please request an ateez reaction to you playing a viagra prank on them and if you could please make it a little long. i just think that’ll be hilarious.

HONGJOONG:

he’d be in the hotel room next door to yours, sharing a room with yunho when he starts to feel it getting hard

he doesn’t know why it’s getting hard, he wasn’t thinking of anything besides wanting to go to sleep but it jolts him awake

luckily yunho left the room to go join san and wooyoung

u, on the other hand, are wondering if it had set in yet so u look it up and when u realise it should kick in by now

u facetime him just to mock him

he immediately picks up

u put on a smirk and ur suddenly more annoying than usual according to hongjoong

“hi joong. how’s it going?”

he tried to hide it but u know whats going on...he just...doesn’t know it was u

“nothing much” he says “just y’know...making beats on my laptop...haha!”

“oh? that must be hard to do huh?”

“not really, it comes naturally to me now. why are u still awake?”

“it’s just...so...hard...to fall asleep and it’s so frustrating...my temper just...keeps growing...because of it...”

“stop that...why are u talking like that u weirdo” 

ur laugh suddenly can’t be contained and u just burst out in cackles, throwing the phone on the bed 

“ya! why are u laughing at me!”

once u managed to get urself together u grabbed ur phone and told him the prank u pulled on him while u and the members went out to eat earlier

his face fumes!!!

“ya! was this u?” he angrily scoffs “why would u pick me as ur victim?!”

“ur easily deceived joong. plus i saw it at the pharmacy counter yesterday and thought it’d be funny”

“im gonna beat ur ass when i see u tomorrow”

“come to my room we’ll figure out what to do with it”

“it would get flaccid seeing u, no thanks”

and u start bickering back and forth for a good three mins before joong groans into his pillow

“ya! i hate u so much!!!”

SEONGHWA

omg this baby would be so shy about it

u gave it to him it in replace of headache relief pill...but he doesn’t know that bc seonghwa doesn’t check

he’ll be on a vlive with yeosang later on when it starts getting hard

ur watching their vlive from the other room and ur just waiting...for something to happen...

when it gets hard all of a sudden his face contorts

“omo...”

and he’d look down but then immediately look up bcos he’s realising on live broadcasting

yeosang b like “what? what’s wrong?”

and seonghwa would be so speechless he’d look back and forth from yeosang to the camera 

nobody can see it bc of the filter but he is blushing like crazy

“hyung, stop fooling around, what’s wrong?”

and u watch as seonghwa whispers something into his ear, u in ur room quietly laughing to urself but also thinking of how to apologise to seonghwa bc u know he doesn’t handle pranks like these well

yeosang then does the same as seonghwa and looks back and forth from him and the camera

yeosang be like “ok everyone we have to go! it’s getting late goodnight!”

but the time is only 8pm and u just laugh as u turn ur phone off

from ur room u can hear them panicking about what to do, and seonghwa yelling and yeosang yelling back

YUNHO

big baby would also be so shy!!!

this prank would be urs and wooyoung’s idea

u would be accompanying him and the members on the set of an mv filming

u would be watching yunho and wooyoung being goofy behind the scenes in front of the cameras

and then yunho’s face suddenly changes...like in the gif...god

and wooyoung is smirking and being touchy feely with him bc he knows whats up

“yunho, is everything ok? ur not feeling sick are u?” he teases

“get y/n...i need her...like now...wooyoung please...”

wooyoung laughs at him as he goes over to u and tell u that ur boyfriend wants u

“baby what’s wrong?” u say, acting like u dont know whats wrong

he looks around, his face blushing bright red, to make sure nobody is looking at him

“i...”

“yunho...tell me what’s wrong”

“babe i-i have a...b-boner...”

u cant help but laugh and he quickly covers up ur mouth while backing u up into somewhere secluded

“shhh!!! please!!!”

“how’d u manage that huh? what were u thinking of huh?”

“literally nothing! idk why i just got it...god it hurts...what do i do?”

u put ur hand between his thighs knowing u two are alone and u squeeze one of his thighs lightly

“we could help it a bit? there’s an unused room down the hall-”

but before u can even finish it yunho grabs ur arm and dashes through the hall with u

“please, i just want it gone, i cant be having a boner on an mv, i’d get clowned by atiny”

YEOSANG

i think he’d either be the most calm about it or be the complete opposite and freak out 

but let’s stick to the most calm since that’s more his personality

u would pull the same prank on him like u did with seonghwa, making him think it was a headache relief pill

he’ll be in the middle of dancing with the members when all of a sudden...

he’d be like: and i...OOP!

he’d try to get through a few minutes dancing with it bc he thinks he’s gotten a random hard-on and thinks if he focuses on something else then it will go away

but not with viagra

when he realises its not going down he’d excuse himself to the toilets 

he’ll sit in a cubicle and wait for someone in there to leave before taking off the lower half clothes and touching himself

he wants it to go away because he has no time to be embarrassed

he just wants it to go away and he’s panicking because he’s been touching himself for god knows how long and he cant feel himself getting close

so he texts you as a last resort

yeosang: babe

you: yes?

yeosang: i really need a big favor from you

you: hm...depends what it is...

yeosang: baby can you touch yourself and let me hear you?

you: oh? you’re horny?

yeosang: i wasn’t but i just got this hard-on and i went to touch myself but nothing...

yeosang: i know it’s late but i panicked, im sorry...oh god, you really don’t need to, it’s okay don’t worry

YOU are calling...

SAN

cute baby boy would so laugh the fact that you and yunho had plotted to pull this prank off so san wouldn’t sleep tonight

he’d just laugh at himself as he watches it get harder and harder in the shower

“oh my god! what is this!”

cackles and cackles, his cute laughs everywhere

yunho is sitting in their shared room on his phone and all he can hear is san yelling and cackling at himself in the shower

he knows what’s up

“yunho! i got a boner!”

yunho laughs so hard at how easy it is for san to just tell him these things

“pretty sure a little birdie and i slipped something in your americano this morning to get back at u for the shampoo prank but that’s none of my business!”

san laughs so hard he nearly slips but thankfully he’s okay

he’s just . looking down at himself . laughing

he isn;t surprised that yunho pulled this off but you? his own girlfriend? would betray him like this?

he peeks out from the shower curtain and grabs his phone thats sitting closeby and he starts to call you

when u pick up u are welcomed to the sound of san’s high pitched screaming

“ya! i can’t believe how much of a snake you are! do you know what you did to me? cause im staring at it right now and it hurts! it’s funny but what if this never comes down in the morning! how am i supposed to sleep on my stomach when this...thing...wants to sleep with me! ya! you’re dead tomorrow!”

san doesn’t talk about anything else for the rest of the night except for ways to get rid of his hard-on while yunho is fast asleep

MINGI

omg another big baby that would both be shy and be dramatic about it

u pranked him earlier and now u and mingi are baking something together for yeosang’s birthday that’s coming soon

he’s whirring mixture when it starts to get hard and he immediately shuts the machine off

he takes a big deep breath because he’s not sure just how on earth he has managed to get a boner in the middle of baking

he tries to push it down but that!!! hurts!!!

he shrieks and u ask him whats wrong

he ushers you away, telling u nothing is wrong

but u have a faint idea that maybe it’s the little viagra pill u slipped into his drink earlier

mingi can’t take it no more bc it gets harder and harder the more he tries to ignore it

he’s quiet, silently inching behind you before you feel it pressing against your back

hm, you think

“babe. i’m not sure what’s going on but it’s stressing me out.”

“but we’re baking”

“i know but if i keep going the others are bound to see it and i, for sure, know they’re going to clown me”

“the cupcakes are gonna burn baby, you’ll just have to wait”

but he’s a big baby and he just whines over and over, whimpering as it gets even harder and warms his stomach

it makes you laugh so hard but you enjoy toying with mingi 

you love seeing him be so helpless and under your control

“baby can’t we just pause the oven and resume it when we’re done?”

WOOYOUNG

i see him having the same reaction as san but more exaggerated except because of the situation, he’s more collected about it:

u thought it was funny to drop one in his coke while u were eating out with the members

on the drive home the members are all fast asleep in the van except for you and wooyoung

you because you were reading a really cool book and wooyoung...well because he’s been trying to hide his hard-on since it started getting hard

you’ve been noticing how often he’s been changing positions with his legs and it started to irk you a little now because you just want him to tell you that he’s hard without getting shy

“babe, if you’re going to keep hiding your hard-on from me you might aswell just sit with the driver so i can’t see”

“how...how did you know?”

you laugh to yourself putting your hand between his thighs and rubbing it 

wooyoung is hot and absolutely not collected but he stays quiet because he’s with his members and they’re all asleep

you unbutton his jeans and wooyoung gets even more hotter bc ur hand presses against his throbbing hard-on

you rub it, just to see his reaction and the way he closes his eyes pleases you

but then he opens them quickly, realising where he is

you laugh at him and punch him jokingly, “relax, i’m not going to jack you off while the others are here”

and wooyoung groans but he knows ur right and besides, it’s much more fun when u two are alone

JONGHO

omg what a sweet boy!

[all-hail-the-witcher]

one expensive can of easy cheese

crack head hours my kids

also inspired by a hot guy i saw at walgreens today

the walgreens chaos returns

______

ship: ralbert

genre: crackhead angst

words: who knows, not super long

warnings: mentions of a twine kink, easy cheese, concussions, walgreens, race thinks another guy is hot, uhhh, hot men in scrubs, minor bits of violence, new yorkers been new yorkers, albert is a dumbass, race is more of a dumbass

editing: nah

_____

Race was sat on top of the counter in his and Albert’s apartment, a piece of duct tape over his mouth and his hands tied together with kitchen twine. He sighed against his restraints, resigned to watch his boyfriend make their contribution to this year’s Thanksgiving gathering: mac and cheese.

Now, of course everyone and their mother knew that mac and cheese was not a Traditional Thanksgiving Food. But, Albert had won (best out of three) mario kart yesterday so he had gotten to decide what they would bring to Jack’s house. Had Race known that he had been planning to make mac and fucking cheese, maybe he would have tried a little harder.

Apparently, Albert was not pleased with Race’s reaction to his decision to make mac and cheese, and thought that Race might try to get in the way somehow (which he may or may not have fully intended to do). So he did what any loving boyfriend would: sat him on the counter, put duct tape over his mouth and tied his hands together so he wouldn’t interfere.

Race was beginning to wonder why he had agreed to move in with Albert in the first place.

With a violent shake of his head and one final spat, he was able to dislodge the duct tape.

“Albieeeeee,” he whined, laying down on the counter. “Can you pleaaaaaaaseee let me helllllllllp?”

Albert barely glanced up as he pulled the big wooden spoon out of the pot and gave it a thoughtful lick. “Hmmmmmmm. No.”

“But-!” He wriggled around to give Albert his best puppy dog eyes. “Can I make something else then? Ple-OW!” He glared at the spatula that had been hurled at his arm. “You apologize for that!”

“Nah.” He smirked and went back to stirring his wretched pasta. Well, actually Albert’s mac and cheese was quite good. Race was just salty that he was making it for Thanksgiving when it was very well known that he was the chef of the two and Jack was expecting something good not the mac and cheese Albert famously made at 2am in college when they were all high as hell.

“Can you at least untie me then?”

“No.” Albert even bother considering this time.

“Well.” If logic wasn't going to work on Albert he would have to try another method. “I know you know how to make a guy feel good Albie, but I never expected ropes to be a part of it. What’s next? Handcuffs? Whips? Chains?”

In two seconds flat Race was out of his kitchen twine bonds and flexing his sore wrists.

“Man Albie, who knew you had a twine kink.”

“You know,” Albert began loudly, as if thinking that his loudness would cover up his totally obvious twine kink, “if you want to do something that's actually useful, you could go to Walgreens and buy me another can of Easy Cheese.”

“Is that what you put in your fuckin mac and cheese?” Race swore he actually felt bile rise in the back of his throat when Albert nodded. “That’s it. I’m never eating your mac and cheese again.”

“But-!”

“I’ll eat you though,” Race winked, taking a moment to enjoy the startled, yet somehow pleased look on his boyfriend’s face.

“Not until after we’re done at Jack’s.” Albert said only half jokingly as he dug around in his pocket for a second before throwing a crumpled five at Race. “In the meantime though, be gone thot!”

Race barely managed to catch the bill without falling on the floor, but still blew a kiss to Albert before walking out of the apartment.

Who the fuck puts easy cheese in mac and cheese? He wondered for the millionth time as he stomped the three blocks to Walgreens. Albert claimed that he had chosen his apartment for its proximity to the store, but up until today Race had always assumed that he had been joking. The man did make a lot of mac and cheese and if Easy Cheese was an ingredient well….maybe there was some truth to that story after all.

Race pulled open the door to the Walgreens, pausing briefly to wonder why the absolute fuck it was open on literal Thanksgiving before remembering that it was a fucking Walgreens and why wouldn’t it be open to sell his dumbass boyfriend a can of fucking Easy Cheese.

In order to get to the Easy Cheese, or at least he assumed so because he had never bought a can of Easy Cheese in his whole glorious 25 years of life, Race had to walk past the Pharmacy section of the store. And, it just so happened that there was a guy sitting behind the counter at the Pharmacy. A very attractive guy. With a beard. In scrubs.

Now, of course Race loved Albert and nothing would ever change that, but he could appreciate an attractive man when he saw one. He thanked whatever deity was out there for the bit of man candy that he had been granted and went in search of his Easy Cheese.

“Mac and cheese, velveta cheese, microwaveable mac and cheese, where the fuck is the- oh thank fuck there we go.” He pulled a can of Easy Cheese off of the shelf, tossing it once and catching it before turning to go pay for the horrendous product, happy to finally be done with the whole ordeal when-

“Easy cheese? Really?”

Race whirled around to see Mr. Man Candy himself leaning against the opposite shelf. “Wh- who?”

“Oh,” he dusted his hand off on his scrubbs, “allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brett O’Hare. And you, sir, are a disgrace to society. The very reason why so many Americans are in poor health in this day and age.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The Easy Cheese!” Brett gestured wildly toward the can in Race’s hand. “Gosh do you even know how many preservatives are in that stuff? And all the cancers that it can cause? It’s terrible. We wouldn’t need free healthcare if people just stopped eating Easy Cheese!”

Race had lived in New York City his whole life, and he had seen some pretty strange things, but never had he seen a pharmacist in a Walgreens lecture anyone about the health benefits of Easy Cheese.

“So let me get this straight,” Race rubbed his head, trying to make sense of the situation. “You go around yelling at people about the ingredients in the things that they are purchasing?”

“Yeah.”

“You do realize that this is a Walgreens, right? Everything in here probably contains some kind of chemical.” New Yorkers never ceased to amaze him.

“All the more reason for me to inform them of their poor eating habits!” Brett pointed a finger at him. “And stop distracting me! You’re the one buying the freaking easy cheese here!”

“It’s not even for me!” Race shouted back. “It’s for my boyfriend’s fucking mac and cheese that he insisted on making for Thanksgiving even though everyone knows that mac and cheese is not a fucking Thanksgiving food and he’s only making it cause he knocked me off the goddamn rainbow road right before the fucking finish line!” Race was fuming but the time that he was done.

“Oh, man I’m so sorry, that's lousy.”

Race looked surprised. Of all the things that he thought he would get out of this Walgreens experience, a therapy session was indeed not on the list. But neither had been hearing a lecture about the preservatives in Easy Cheese from a pharmacist.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still buying Easy Cheese!” Between one second and the next, Brett had grabbed the can of Easy Cheese out of Race’s hand, wielding it like a brick. “Buy some fucking vegetables!”

And with that, he struck Race over the head with the can of Easy Cheese.

Now, Race had definitely done some questionable things during his life. Once he had slept on the roof of his dorm building in January for a week because he lost his dorm key, and another time he had been tricked into making an entire wedding cake using salt. However, being smacked over the head with a can of Easy Cheese by a health nut in scrubs on Thanksgiving put any and all other situations he had been in to shame.  

He opened his eyes, suddenly blinded by the lights, and reached for his phone, muttering curses about man candy and vegetables. Squinting so he didn’t have to look at the screen, he somehow managed to dial Albert.

“Racetrack Higgins, where is my Easy Cheese?”

Race pulled the phone away from his ear and winced at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. “Um, it may have been used to give me a concussion by a health nut in scrubs?”

Albert let out a loud sigh. “Ah man, did you run into Brett? That guy’s the worst.”

“Wait, you know him?”

“Race, I know every Walgreens employee in Manhattan, of course I know Brett.” There was the jangling of keys in the background. “I thought I told you to go to the one on 4th for this reason, ah, well. I’m on my way. I’ll take you to urgent care. Hang tight.”

Race’s head hurt too much to process what Albert had said except for the words ‘I’m on my way.’ “Okay,” he sighed.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” Race’s eyes focused on the dented can of Easy Cheese rolling on the floor. “And Al?”

“Yeah?”

“This is going to be one expensive can of Easy Cheese.”

______

that was a ride

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[dontdietwd]

Day 67, part 2

I had my eyes closed as I sat on a rocking chair on the porch of the farm house. Everything was silent now, except for my own ears ringing loudly in stress. I breathed in, allowing my head to rest on the back of the chair, and out, slowly, my feet nudging the wooden floor to rock the chair softly. Otis and Shane had left for the high school, Maggie was gone looking for Lori, and the others were around Carl. I was a quiet moment, which I highly valued. I had to cool down, allow my body to return to normal, allow my brain to stop screaming.

I knew it wouldn’t last long. It never did.

The door to the house creaked open to let out both Rick and Hershel, who joined me on the porch. Hershel sat on the chair by my side and Rick stood on the railing, looking outside.

“Your farm is beautiful, Mr. Greene,” I said in a low voice, as if scared to mess up with the rare peace of the moment. “I can see you take very good care of it.”

“It’s been in my family 160 years.”

“I can’t believe how serene it is,” Rick said looking out. “How untouched. You’re lucky.”

“We aren’t completely unscathed…” the old man disagreed from his chair. “We’ve lost friends, neighbors. The epidemic took my wife and my step son.”

I nodded looking down, “I’m sorry… It’s like there ain’t nobody alive who ain’t lost someone these days.”

“It sure is, but my daughters were spared. I’m thankful to God for that. These people here? All we got left is each other.”

“Yeah… We know how it is. We, our group… We’re also al we got.”

“Let’s hope we can ride it out in peace until there is a cure.”

Rick looked back into the porch and his eyes met mine, we both thinking the same. Rick looked down and out to the field again as I tried to choose my words.

“Mr. Greene… We’ve been on the road for a while now. We tried shelter in different places. One of them was at the CDC, in Atlanta. The most important place nearby that’d be working on a cure,” I paused, making Hershel look at me, waiting for me to finish. “It’s destroyed. Blew up to pieces, we all nearly blew up with it. They had no cure.”

Surprisingly, he smiled. “I don’t believe it. When aids came along everyone panicked. One boy in town came down with that and some parents pulled their children from school so they didn’t have to sit in the same room.”

“This is a whole other thing…” Rick said shaking his head and he turned to face us in the chairs, leaning against the rail.

“This is what we always say, ‘this one’s different’. Mankind have been fighting plagues from the start. We get our behinds kicked for a while. And then we bounce back,” with a serene smile, he looked from me to Rick and back. “It’s nature correcting itself, restoring some balance.”

We exchanged a look again and Rick lowered his head, his disbelief in the man’s words clear.

“Well,” I started carefully, “I don’t believe it, Mr. Greene. I really don’t… But I’ll be more than happy to be wrong about it. I hope we’re wrong about it.”

Maggie came back on the horse with Lori by then, galloping across the same field I had run just a short while ago, the sunset painting a beautiful picture that ended up unobserved. I stood on the porch with Hershel as Rick went to meet his wife on the garden in front of the house, telling her what happened and holding her as she cried, and then leading her inside. I sat back down on the rocking chair, my throat painful at the sight of the mother’s desperation.

“Delivered your message,” Maggie told me as she climbed the steps. “You were right; he did not trust me.”

I gave her a little smile, “He was protecting the group… Takes his job very seriously.”

“He your guy?”

I huffed, “What? No… It’s – I don’t, he’s…” and I paused to get in control, and finally shook my head. “No.”

With a knowing smile, Maggie dropped it, “Did you eat already?”

“Just a glass of juice… Don’t know if I can stomach much more.”

Rick gave Carl blood once again and could barely walk after that, his face pale and sweaty, but still refused to sit when he and Lori joined Hershel and I in the dining room, so Lori could understand better what was about to happen. Later, I sat once again on a bench outside on the porch, under the shadow of the house. Maggie joined me, quietly taking a seat by my side. Sun had come down and still Shane and Otis had not returned with the equipment, the emotions at the house growing tense by the minute. Everybody knew what they might be facing out there and everything that could go wrong, but an unspoken agreement made us not mention it, and simply wait.

Going over everything that had happened today, so far, I felt like I’d been awake for days already. So much had happened! Improvised breakfast at the road, Andrea’s drama, the search on the woods, the corpse on the tent, the church bell and the hope it arose, the disappointment, the deer, Otis and the shot, the run and the farm and, finally, just minutes ago, realizing Mr. Greene was actually a veterinarian.

Craziest and longest day ever.

I smiled for a moment before starting to laugh, quietly, my shoulders increasingly shaking. Maggie turned to look at me, eyes a little wide, gob smacked.

“Sorry! It’s crazy, it’s just…” and I kept laughing. “It’s just that, you know, feels like a week ago but just a couple of hours ago, Otis –” and I paused to laugh a little more. “Otis said ‘go to Hershel, he’s a vet, he’ll help!’ and we were all like ok, well, a veteran!” I laughed more, just a little louder, and Maggie started laughing with me, understanding the line of thought. “We never thought vet meant veterinarian!”

We were still laughing softly together when a car appeared at the far, the low ruffle of the motor disturbing the silence of the farm.

“Is it them?” Maggie asked.

I stretched my neck to see over the railing, “Not all of them, we got more cars,” and I got up, squinting to try and see who was driving but the lights made it impossible. I wondered why just one car, where was everybody else, what had happened, and in a second a thousand scenarios crossed my mind, how unaware of things I was now and how uncomfortable that felt. Where was Daryl?

Glenn and Theodore hopped out of the car looking curious but calm and I sighed in relief. Seemed like everything was fine. Except for Theodore himself, who was wrapped in a blanket even though the evening was nearly as hot as the day had been and looked nearly white on his paleness. I stood on top of the stairs, waiting for them to approach.

“Holy shit, T,” I said as a hello. “You look like hell.”

He laughed and sounded high, “Gee, thanks!”

“He’s got a fever,” Glenn explained as they stopped there. “Cut’s infected. Daryl gave him a few of Merle’s pills, some antibiotic I guess.”

“Okay, come on, let’s take a look at it,” I gestured them to come up.

“You okay?” Glenn asked me as he came up and pointed at my eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah, just a twig, was nothing.”

“Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?” Maggie asked them from where she was still sitting and both Glenn and Theodore looked past me at her, only now noticing there was someone else there.

“Uh, hi,” Glenn raised a hand lamely. “Yes, we closed it. Did the latch and everything. Hello. Nice to see you again, we met before, briefly.”

“This is Maggie,” I told them as the girl got up from the bench. “Maggie, Glenn and Theodore.”

Theo just nodded, his eyes nearly closed as if asleep, and Glenn waved again.

“Where are the others? Why only you two came?”

“Daryl decided they should stay one more night. Says he’s gonna put a sign for Sophia in case she comes back to let her know we’re looking and to wait there. Set some supplies too. They’ll all come in the morning.”

I nodded, the sense of pride I’d been feeling for Daryl showing it’s face once again.

“Look, we came to help,” Glenn kept talking. “Is there anything we can do? We got some antibiotics and painkillers, if Carl needs it.”

“Come in inside. I’ll make something to eat. You too Sam, is your stomach settled enough, you think?”

“Yes, it’s definitely better.”

We followed Maggie inside and she went straight to the kitchen. I gestured them both to follow me and stopped at the bedroom’s threshold, pointing inside. Glenn and Theo solemnly entered, their faces betraying the distress in seeing Carl lying there like that. Inside, Rick and Lori saw them and nodded their greetings.

“Uh… We’re here, okay?” Glenn told them nearly in a whisper. Whatever you need.”

Glenn was a sweetheart. Not for the first time I felt a wave of tenderness towards him. He was a gentle man, not much more than a teenager actually, he had to be what, nineteen, twenty tops? I felt like if I’d ever had a brother, I wanted him to be just like Glenn, if life had given me one.

Patricia came to stitch Theo’s arm, poor woman, I could see the worry in her eyes, her heart must have been aching right now, and she had to just do something as she waited for her husband to come back. I hoped he did, both he and Shane. I sat at the table with them and Glenn just paced nervously around us, because Theo was getting stitches, and many of them, with no anesthesia at all and man, that had to hurt. On the table, the sort of medication Daryl had found in Merle’s bag.

Damn, the man was a walking pharmacy! I wondered how he was coping without them now; withdrawal must be kicking his ass. Been through it, didn’t want to be on his shoes right now. And where the hell was he, anyway? Without a hand!

“Merle Dixon,” I heard Patricia say as is reading my thoughts. “Is that your friend with the antibiotics?”

Uh, tough subject. Glenn looked at me and we exchanged a second. He must have known it was hard to me to talk about it.

“No, ma’am,” he answered instead. “Merle’s no longer with us. Daryl gave us those… His brother.”

“Not sure I’d call him a friend,” Theo was able to groan out though his pain with the stitches.

“I would,” I said immediately and Theo looked at me, kind of an unreadable expression. “Merle was my friend, all things considered,” I paused for a moment to gain some drama and moved on, “Horrible person! The one you’d want away from you. But ended up being my friend after all.”

“Well, horrible person or not,” Patricia looked from me to Theo, “he is your friend today. This doxycycline might have just saved your life.”

“You know what Merle was taking it for?” Maggie asked as she held Theo’s arm in place.

“The clap,” Glenn answered quickly and caught himself. Every one of us was looking at him and I fought the urge to laugh at his awkwardness. “Uh… Venereal disease. That’s what Daryl said.”

“I’d say Merle Dixon’s clap was the best thing that happened to you,” Patricia declared and this time I did laugh, out loud, just a Maggie did.

“I’m really trying not to think about that!” Theo suffered just a bit more.

Glenn left the room then, apparently unable to take Theo’s pain and the needles and his own awkwardness anymore. Poor guy, this instant crush on Maggie was palpable. She really was very pretty, and nice. I liked her a lot. I was glad to see her follow him out just a minute later, as soon as Theo’s stitches were done and she could let his arm go.

“Your turn,” Patricia told me after Theo thanked her and stumbled out of the chair, all but dragging himself over to the couch.

“Oh, God… Do I really have to?” I whined a bit.

“Come here, let me take a look.”

I got up from the chair I was in and occupied the one Theo vacated. Patricia removed my eyebrow bandage and looked the cut over before saying, “Sorry to disappoint, dear, but this will be a three or four stitches. It’s a small cut, but it went a bit deep and eyebrows tend to bleed a lot, see this?” she showed me the bandage and it was all red in new blood that had come out after Maggie tended to it.

“Yes, I figured. Let’s get on with it then…”

It did hurt a lot, the needle and the stitches perforating my skin, I could feel everything. But I didn’t cry out as much as Theo did, I’m proud to say. I ended up being four stitches, and a much smaller bandage after it was done.

A while later, I was sitting on the porch with a bowl of warm oatmeal, made with milk, and with raisins in it – oh, the heavens! Breakfast food for dinner, and the sustenance, it was just amazing. I ate is fast, but still appreciated the flavor of every spoonful. I was already scraping the bowl then a car approached. I placed it aside and got up to recognize Otis’ old truck. They were back! I got up and ran down the porch stairs just as the others left the house to greet them back.

Shane got out of the driver’s seat and took heavy bags from inside the car, and he limped his way to meet us, breathless, his eye wide and not blinking. He was a wreck. Something had gone really, really wrong, and where the fuck was Otis?

“Carl?”

“There’s still a chance,” Rick told him as Hershel took the bags and handed them to Glenn.

“Otis?” he asked Shane, also noticing his absence.

Shane looked down.

Fuck.

He took another moment to answer, saying simply “No.”

Fuck! We had just got that family’s friend killed.

There was a stunned silence and, by my side, I hear Maggie take a painful intake of breath. Hershel looked around, lost, and after a moment said “We say nothing to Patricia. Not ‘till after. I need her,” and he grabbed the heavy bags on his own again and ran inside.

Rick went to Shane and hugged him, thankful. I turned to Maggie, who was frozen on her spot and touched her shoulder. When she looked at me her green eyes were filled with tears and her lips trembled.

“I’m so sorry… God, I’m so sorry, Maggie…”

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Going Out in Style

This is for @trashofdoom, who requested a Palladium poisoning fic. Thanks for loving the same Tony Whump I do :) This is set directly after the IM2 birthday party, so there are canon-compliant discussions of death.

Thank you to @whumphoarder for beta reading.

_______________________

By the time he reaches a quiet rooftop, the tower gleaming far behind him, Tony’s vision is going double. A headache pulses through his temples like a knife, making his knees go weak and his stomach bubble up to his throat.

Part of him wants to lie down and get it over with right now. Give in to the pain. Fall asleep and never wake up. But he can’t - not yet. He’s still got shit to do, and besides, that wouldn’t really be his style.

“JARVIS, any chance I can find some aspirin around here?”

“There’s a twenty-four-hour pharmacy in the building to your right,” the AI informs him calmly, lighting up a flight path for Tony in the part of the HUD that didn’t get damaged during his fight with Rhodey.

Tony tumbles down more than he flies. It takes a full minute of standing bent over and panting, hands braced on his thighs, before he can muster the strength to get inside. The pharmacy is blissfully empty - no little kids or nosy teenagers asking for autographs - just an old lady at the register who looks over his beaten-up and altogether pathetic state with a crease of worry between her brows when he rasps his order.

“Take care of yourself, Iron Man,” she says when she hands him the aspirin and a bottle of water, her voice so warm and kind that it makes him want to cry.

He responds with a shrug and a flashy smile, then stumbles out of the shop, rounds the corner, and slides down in an alley. It suddenly takes an enormous effort not to throw up the pills he’s just swallowed, and for a while he just concentrates on breathing through the sick feeling in his stomach.

“Where’s Pepper?” Tony asks the AI when the drug finally starts to kick in and he can think through the pain again. The headache is dulling, but the nausea hasn’t decreased. He’s going to be sick sooner or later - if not the booze, then the poisoning will make sure of that. Keeping down food has become a pointless effort during the past couple of days.

“Miss Potts is still en route home, sir. Mr. Hogan is dropping her off at her private flat. They have nearly arrived.”

“Let‘s go.”

Something in Tony feels the need to make sure that she reaches the apartment safely. And something in him just needs to look at her one last time. Say goodbye.

Tony flies high above the rooftops, not wanting to be spotted, and hovers down quietly on a low building opposite of Pepper’s apartment just as the car pulls into the driveway.

The tension on her face is obvious when she thanks Happy and closes the car door. Anger and disappointment are the expressions she shows most often when she looks at Tony, but he knows that there are others. He’s seen how peaceful she looks when she smiles, how beautiful when she dances. He remembers the sparkles of happiness in her eyes the day he returned from Afghanistan.

He’s overcome by the desire to get more of this, to make her smile and dance every single day of her life, and something silly tells him to screw it all and fly over, to let her know what’s happening with him, to ask her to be with him for as long as he has left.

They could be in Venice now, he thinks, just him and Pepper, and for a second, the urge is overwhelming. Just tell her, just be honest, just ask her to spend the last days with you… But no, he’s gone this far - there’s no turning back now. He doesn’t want to make her sad. He doesn’t need people. They’re probably better off without him anyway. And he’s always been better off alone.

But no, that’s wrong, he’s never alone. He’s still got his most loyal friend right there by his side.

“JARVIS, what’s the status?” he asks, his own voice echoing loudly inside the helmet.

“You are running a temperature of 100.8 degrees, your heart rate is elevated, blood toxicity is at -”

“No, the Six Feet Under Protocol.”

There is a beat before the AI’s reply that no one except Tony would have noticed.

“Everything is ready, sir,” JARVIS says, his voice distinctly neutral. “I have transferred command of all of your suits to Colonel Rhodes. As soon as your death is confirmed, your shares of Stark Industries and ownership of your Malibu residence will be transferred to Miss Potts. Your private assets will be equally distributed among Miss Potts, Colonel Rhodes, and Mr. Hogan.”

“Thanks, J.”

Tony watches Pepper’s slim figure disappear into her apartment, the red of her hair flashing bright for a second when she switches on the light in the hallway just before the door falls shut.

“Sir, if I may take the liberty, it is not too late to talk to Miss Potts. I am sure she would be-”

“Nope,” Tony cuts him off, “not having that conversation. Pepper‘s gonna have the mansion and a shit ton of money, and that’s the last she‘ll know of me. It’s best that way.” He hesitates. “What would you want, JARVIS? What should I leave you?”

“Sir, as I informed you after your return from Afghanistan, I have developed a self-destruction protocol for the case of your death that only requires your authorisation. It will be activated after the persons on your list of importance have expired and do not require my protection anymore.”

“Following me into the abyss like a loyal spouse, are you?“ He chuckles, then has to swallow against the lump in his throat. “Protocol authorised.”

He watches as his HUD blinks green to confirm the activation. “Gonna miss you, buddy,” he says before he can think better.

“I’m going to miss you too, sir,” JARVIS replies warmly. “As surprising as it is.”

The tightness in Tony’s chest turns into something else and the moment is ruined when the nausea hits full force. He swallows again, but it’s no use, and before he knows it he’s on his hands and knees, barely having time to retract the faceplate before he’s heaving gushes of alcohol onto the rooftop.

Tony retches until all that comes up are strings of bile. The strain of it brings tears to his eyes. He coughs and chokes and definitely doesn’t sob.

It takes effort to pick himself up again, pain and fever and exhaustion having turned his bones into lead. There’s a voice in his head whispering that it’s pointless, that it doesn’t really matter whether it happens here and now or somewhere else later. But he ignores it. Tony Stark’s not gonna bite the dust next to a puddle of his own sick.

So he shakily gets back to his feet, swaying as he does so. He tries for a while to blink away the colourful lights obscuring his vision before he realises that they stem from the distant sunrise.

“Sir, your blood sugar is dangerously low,” JARVIS informs him. “I advise you to eat, otherwise you might lose consciousness soon.”

Tony’s stomach clenches at the thought of food, but he knows JARVIS is right.

“Okay mom,” he banters, launching himself into the air.

When he reaches the river, Tony throttles the speed and opens his helmet. He glides high above the skyscrapers, letting his eyes drift over New York. The city is just waking up, looking almost peaceful in the soft morning light.

Tony puts on his sunglasses and starts AC/DC on the suit’s speakers. Going out in style.

“JARVIS, find me a donut place.”

_______________________

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

@badthingshappenbingo: This is my prompt fill for the “Chronic Pain” square.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Doing the Right Thing

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2,535

Warnings: all angst, killing oneself but not because of depression, major character death

Summary: As the Apocalypse goes on, all you can do is try and survive. But then you get bit, and now you need to think about Sam and Dean instead of yourself.

Squared Filled: Apocalypse // Hiding an injury // Campfire // Getting shot

Fandom: Supernatural

Author’s Note: This is for @heavenandhellbingo and @badthingshappenbingo and @spndeanbingo and @spnclassicbingo respectively and this is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

“Isn’t it not the best idea to split up?” you asked as you got into town. People infected with the Croatoan virus, or Croats, were roaming around looking for their next meal. There were three things you needed from town: medicine, food, and weapons. There were three of you, so Dean thought it would be best to split up so that everything goes by faster, and you could get to base camp sooner.

Before making it to town, Dean had found the perfect campground which was too far from any Croats to find. As long as you get the stuff you need, then you should be fine for the next few weeks. There was a freshwater lake next to the campgrounds which is where you’ll be getting your water from now on. When you thought about the Apocalypse, you didn't think the Croatoan virus was the way to end all things. You thought angels and demons would at least have something to do with it, but no, it was something way worse.

At least with demons and angels, you can still survive if they’re inside you.

“Look, we need three kinds of supplies and there are three of us. It’s easier to just split up instead of giving the Croats time to find us. Just go in, get what you need, and meet back at the checkpoint. Everyone clear on what they’re supposed to be doing?” Dean asked as he took charge. There were no humans that could be saved from an incurable disease so you three weren't hunters anymore. The only thing you’ll hunt is Croats, and you’ll hunt them until the day you die. Purifying the world of these people is the only thing you can do to save it. As long as there are two people on Earth, they can rebuild to make this a better place.

“Fine,” you sighed as you three split off to grab what you were assigned. The pharmacy was only a few stores down, so you got there pretty quickly to get the medicine and other supplies you might need for a few weeks. Then, when those run out, you would have to make another run and then another run and then fifty more runs until you can’t run anymore.

The streets were quiet, and you did your best to carefully enter the pharmacy without getting the attention of the Croats. The pharmacy was trashed, but you were easily able to maneuver through the aisles until you found what you were looking for. The gun you always carried was strapped to your hip just in case you came into contact with a Croat and needed to kill them to survive.

Grabbing the medicine you needed, you packed your backpack before going over to the feminine hygiene section and stocking up on tampons, razors, toothbrushes, and toothpaste. Everything you considered to be valuable, you took and packed it away in the very big and sturdy backpack you stole from some sporting goods store. This was the endgame now, and it was each man for himself. If you saw something you needed, you damn well made sure you got that item.

Sam and Dean counted on you to get everything, especially Dean. When the world went to shit, he leaned on you more than usual. He depended on you to make him feel human and depended on his brother to make him feel sane. Without you, the system would go to shit, as it would if Sam or Dean were to be gone. Dean had been your rock for most things even before the apocalypse which is why it made sense to date him. He had been a pretty fantastic friend, but he was even a better boyfriend.

Grabbing the last thing on your list, you were pretty proud of yourself for keeping quiet this whole time until you tripped over a child’s toy in the aisle and knocked over an entire shelf. The noise was so loud that you thought that someone from the other side of the world could hear it. Freezing in your spot, you held your breath as you listened for any kind of scuttle or movement that would indicate Croats heading your way. The place was dead quiet except for the echo of the fall, and you made the conscious decision to escape the place.

Stepping into plain view of anyone who could be watching, you headed for the door when you were tackled by a person. Your backpack skidded across the floor as a Croat snarled, trying to sink his teeth into your skin. The Croat smelled of death as his skin rotted, and he leaned down to get a bite, but you held him at arm’s length to keep his mouth away from you. The closer he got, the more you noticed he was bleeding from his cheek, and it was a pretty big cut too. If any of his blood were to get inside your body, then it was game over for you.

Kicking the Croat where the sun don’t shine, the most amount of damage it did was able to throw him off you while you reached for your gun. The Croat was easily able to shake off the attack before running at you. Extending your arm to shoot at him, he flung his arms wildly, knocking the gun out of your hand. Kicking at his knee, you hoped it would at least get him down, which it did, but he managed to scratch you with his long and jagged nails.

Crying out in pain, you tried to ignore the sting while you ran for your gun which was by your backpack. The Croat got up before pouncing on your back, and you caught yourself wishing you fought harder to stay together. This Croat was hell-bent on either turning you or killing you, and since you were kind of rusty from not hunting, it was getting harder to get away from him. The Croat noticed your open wound, and he twisted your arm back before letting his own blood drop into your wound.

“No!” you yelled as you found that last ounce of strength in you to subdue him. While the Croat was down, you grabbed your gun and shot him multiple times in the head before you were certain he was dead. Letting out a shaky breath, you looked at your wound that you knew was tainted with the poison. Even though it was painless, you felt the virus slowly spreading through your body. It was only a matter of time before you were killing Sam and Dean, and the only cure for the Croatoan virus was to kill the host that had it. Sam and Dean would have to kill you sooner rather than later before you ended up killing one of them.

The virus took about three to four hours to finally take effect, so you had some time before you had to tell them the heartbreaking news. Untying your jacket from your waist, you put it on to hide the bite on your arm. Grabbing your backpack, you slung it over your shoulder before leaving the store. Maybe you should have dumped the feminine products and grabbed some more medicine since you wouldn’t need them anymore, but then the brothers would become suspicious since you complained about running out of tampons a few days ago.

Approaching the meeting point, you saw the brothers talking lowly. When they heard a twig snap, they both whipped out their guns before noticing it was you. Dean could see the tiredness in your eyes, but then again, you three were always tired so he didn’t really worry too much about it.

“You okay? You’re usually here first,” Dean commented.

“Yeah. I had to kill a Croat, but I’m fine. He’s dead and I got the medicine and other supplies,” you said as you motioned to your backpack. The brothers nodded before the trek back to the campsite started. It was far since you didn’t want the Croats finding out where you three were staying, so you grew tired from walking the long distance. The virus was spreading fast, and you knew you would be very tired before gaining extreme strength and speed.

The brothers were taking the lead and chatting, so it gave you a chance to admire the way they were since you wouldn’t be around to enjoy it much more. There was the option of just leaving the brothers to let the virus take over, but you would rather die than become one of them.

“You sure you’re okay? You’re awfully quiet back there,” Dean commented as he brought you closer to him and Sam as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t realize this walk would be so long,” you chuckled.

“When we get back, we can cook some of the beans I found. There was a lot of peanuts and food that have a long shelf life, so I grabbed as much as I could with that,” Sam said as he reached the site you three had to call home. There was the option of going back to the Bunker, but even that wasn’t safe anymore. The virus started around Lebanon so the Bunker was right in the middle of Croat territory. It was much safer just to keep moving.

“Good, I’m starving,” you chuckled humorlessly. Dean knew there was something wrong with you, but he didn’t want to voice what he was dreading. Maybe if he didn't say it, then it wouldn’t be true and you would be alright. Since the trek back to camp was about an hour, you only had three until you would be too strong to kill. Your time was running out. By the time you got back to camp, it was already getting dark so Dean started a small fire while Sam took the supplies and began organizing them to reduce the amount of clutter in the backpacks.

“You sure you’re okay sweetheart?” Dean asked with worry in his eyes. Seeing the concern there, it scared you into being quiet so the only thing you could do was nod silently. Dean sighed as he got the fire going, and he took a seat while Sam started cooking something simple. It was good to have fire knowledge and basic survival skills because this was your life—well their life. Your life was running out and fast.

Your breathing picked up to short gasps, and your eyes were starting to become red where it would be white. Your fingers were itching to destroy anything, something only the virus was giving to you. Croats were inherently violent, and it was only a matter of time before you were destroying this campsite or trying to infect Sam and Dean. Sam was safe, you knew this, because of the demon blood, but Dean was fair game. It wouldn’t be fair to them if you took yourself and Dean away from Sam, so you knew you had to say something.

“Guys?” you asked in a small voice, almost as if you were scared they would be mad at you for getting infected. Both brothers stopped chatting to look at you with concerned looks.

“Whoa, you don’t look too good,” Sam said when he noticed your bloodshot eyes and how sunken they looked.

“Don’t say it,” Dean whispered, already knowing what you were going to say.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried as you took off your jacket to show them your wound. It was more purple and red than before, but that was only the virus doing its job.

“What—Are you infected?” Sam asked.

“He came up by surprise and I was a little rusty. He got me before I could get to him. I only have a few hours before I become feral. I only have a short time before I don’t know between right and wrong. I can feel myself slipping,” you cried.

“No, we can fix this. We got medicine,” Dean panicked as he got up to go to the fresh stash.

“It won’t work,” Sam said solemnly.

“No! There has to be something we can do!” Dean yelled.

“There is something you can do,” you sighed as you took out your gun.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Dean asked when he figured out what you really meant.

“I don’t want to be one of them. I don’t want to be the thing you two hunt. You have to kill me now before I turn completely and try to kill you,” you sniffled as you wiped your nose.

“No,” Dean whimpered as his knees buckled.

“I can’t believe this,” Sam said as tears left his eyes. Dean had tears as well, but they refused to fall on their terms.

“Please, you have to kill me.”

“I can’t do it,” Dean sighed. Getting up from your spot, you approached the older brother while keeping your wound away from his.

“Dean Winchester, it has been my honor to be your girlfriend and friend. I wish things could have been different, but I can’t change what happened. I pray to God that this virus goes away so that you two can live out the rest of your long lives. Sam, you’ve been my best friend through it all, and I hate to leave you like this. I didn’t want your last memory of me to be this… thing. I love you both so much, but I have to go now or else it’ll be too late. I have to go now while I still have my humanity,” you cried as you began to cough up blood into your hand.

“I can’t do it,” Dean whispered as he finally let the tears fall.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to look away because I’ll do it. I’ll do it in the water so that I’ll drown and the fish can have me. I don’t want my body to be here as a reminder. I don’t have much time left, I have to do it now.”

“No,” Dean whimpered.

“I love you so much,” you cried as you kissed his cheek with chapped lips. Sam was crying when you gave him his kiss, and you gripped your favorite gun as you walked away from them. Dean’s natural instinct was to go to you, but Sam held him back and made sure they both weren't looking. They knew you needed to do this, and they knew you needed to do it now whether they liked it or not.

Dean stared at the ground as he waited to hear the final shot, the shot which would tell him you would no longer be in his life. The waiting was torture, and both brothers stayed silent in anticipation.

One.

Two.

Three.

Dean flinched as tears cascaded down his cheeks when he heard the gun go off. Sam held his brother’s shoulders as a sign of comfort when they heard a splash indicating you had fallen in the water. It took everything in Dean not to follow in your footsteps, but he couldn’t leave his baby brother all alone.

You wouldn't have wanted that.

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[taylorisfine]

The Eyes Have It

It starts with a word. Two letters are not where they’re supposed to be. One blink and it’s gone. You chalk it up to a lack of caffeine, maybe too much of it, and continue on your day. Everything happens as it normally does, and you think nothing of it. In fact, maybe you imagined the whole thing.

A few days later, it happens again. Only this time it doesn’t go away with a blink. You do, however, rub your eyes for a second which seems to do the trick. It must be the lack of sleep you’ve been getting and you promise yourself it’s lights out before ten tonight.

A few days later, it’s entire paragraphs. Words and letters are jumbled, making no sense, and you know you can’t blame this one on caffeine. Maybe lack of sleep though. You’ve only been getting a few hours each night, even with the newly imposed “lights out before ten” rule, but that’s no cause for hallucination, is it? A panic starts to rise in your chest, your breath starts to quicken. What if you have a disease? What if you need eye surgery? What if it goes wrong and you’re blind forever? What if you’re crazy? I mean, if you can’t trust your eyes, what are you left with? You squeeze them shut and count to ten, certain that when you open them back up, everything will be normal.

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Sixseveneightnineten

Slowly, you pry one eye open. You breathe a sigh of relief as the words have found their way back to the rightful place on the page. Everything makes sense again. Except why they were jumbled in the first place. You think back and realize it’s been forever since you’ve had a physical, and now seems as good a time as any.

The doctor says everything looks fine, save for a slightly high cholesterol but nothing to worry about. You even passed the eye chart test, reading all the way down to the last line. You’re silent for a minute. She asks if everything is alright, and you consider your options. Either tell the doctor what’s been happening and risk sounding like a lunatic, or take the doctor’s word that you are in good health and hope this thing resolves itself. You choose option B, thank the doctor, and leave the hospital.

A week goes by without incident. You’ve all but forgotten about your ocular mishaps until you’re writing down a grocery list. Letters, numbers, even symbols all over the paper. Nothing is where it’s supposed to be. One line is even “######”.  Your eyes widen in horror as you scan down the list. You don’t bother to count to ten this time, or even twenty. You know it wouldn’t do any good. You kick yourself for not telling the doctor what was going on, and call to make another appointment. By some miracle, your doctor has had a last minute cancellation and could you make it there by three? You say yes, you absolutely can.  I mean, if you can’t trust your eyes, what are you left with?

You sit in your car in the driveway, engine on, hands on the steering wheel. There’s something nagging at you in the back of your brain, but seeing as you haven’t been able to read a word in the English language correctly all day, you figure it’s that. You say a silent prayer of thanks that you know the way to the hospital by heart. And another silent prayer that you’re not crazy.

Driving out of the hospital parking lot, you feel a thousand pounds lighter. The doctors visit couldn’t have gone better. With prescriptions for a strong anti-stress medication and a sleep aid in your pocket (of course that’s what it was, you’ve been under an extraordinary amount of stress lately and you can’t believe you hadn’t noticed it before), you drive to the pharmacy. While you’re there, you stock up on the usual; shampoo, deodorant, a razor, and those chocolate protein bars with coconut in them. You head home feeling like a new man.

As soon as you arrive home, you take your first of two prescriptions. Its only five, so you’ll save the sleep-aid for later. Something is still nagging at you, but you’re in too good of a mood to dwell on it. You’re basically cured, and can’t wait for a good nights sleep. You make some dinner and decide to watch a movie.

Finally, ten o’clock rolls around, and you’re ready for bed. You’re sitting on the bed, taking your watch off, when suddenly, it hits you. The thing that’s been bugging you all day. You couldn’t put your finger on it until now, but the realization hits you like a freight train.

The grocery list.

You run downstairs to the fridge. It’s still there, held to the fridge by a stupid “I Went to Vegas and All I Got Was This Magnet” magnet. You rip it off and scan the list. The words are still jumbled and as cryptic as they were a few hours ago, but this time you notice. “Bread” is “aberd”. “Spaghetti” is “itehtpsga”. “Eggs” is “stiemit”. “Cereal” is “yeobogb”.

The words are jumbled and as cryptic as they were a few hours ago, but this time you notice. Eggs and cereal. Eggs and cereal. Eggs. Cereal. Those words are jumbled, but with the wrong letters. You heart drops into your stomach and a cold sweat breaks out over your body. You make your way to the dining room table with the pen and the list and collapse into a chair.

The seconds turn into minutes, which turn into hours. You’re trying your best to unscramble the words but you can only do so much thinking before your eyes have to blink and the letters are once again scattered over the page. One step forwards, three steps back. You’ve somehow become a prisoner to your own eyeballs, but finally, finally, you have it. You stare at the words for as long as you possibly can before the sting becomes unbearable and you force your eyes to close.

It’s time. Goodbye.

You sit back in your chair, defeated, eyes still closed. A single tear slips out from underneath your eyelid and down your cheek. It’s not a coincidence. It can’t be. Your eyes open and you stare upwards, enjoying the simplicity of the white ceiling. No symbols, no codes. Just white. You think. What do you do? Going back to the doctor seems like the logical choice, but you know she would just tell you to let the medication do its work. You know it’s not that, though. You know you’re past the help of pills. This is something else. It has to be. Yes. That’s it. It’s a setup. Someone or something is trying to get to you. They’re using you as a host to carry out some kind of mission. Who are they though? Aliens? The government? Yes. That has to be it. Okay. You’ve figured out their plan. Now you have to figure out how to stop it. How to stop it. How. How. How. Stop. How to stop it.  I mean, if you can’t trust your eyes, what are you left with?

You get up, casually as to not let any potential spies watching know you’ve figured out their plan. You walk over to the garbage to throw the grocery list out. That’s when something catches your eye. You didn’t notice it before because you were so preoccupied with the eggs and the cereal. You scan the list a few times just to make sure. Yes, it’s there, plain as day. “Eggs” is “stiemit”. “Cereal” is “yeobogb”. “Razor blades” is

“Razor blades.”

You blink once. Twice. Three times. You rub until you see television static behind your eyes but when you open them, it’s still there. Unscrambled. Razor blades. Razor. Blades. Razor. Blades. Blades. Blades.

Are you cured? Of course you’re not. That’s probably what they want you to think. You can’t let them win. Think. Think. Razor. Blades. How to stop it. Stop. How. Blades. Eggs. Cereal. Blades. It’s time. Goodbye.

Of course. How did you miss it? When the puzzle pieces finally fall into place, you know what you have to do. Unlike the first realization, this washes you over with a serene satisfaction. Your whole body feels like when you finally remember that song you’ve been thinking about all day, or when you scratch a hard to reach itch. You stand up, content, and head upstairs.

The blades were harder than you imagined to get out of the plastic razor casing, but nonetheless, you persisted. You stand in front of your mirror, doing nothing but studying your features. Who knows the next time you’ll see them. Your hair starting to grey at the ears, your five o’ clock shadow (which you could have taken care of had you noticed before performing an autopsy on the razor five minutes before), the bags under your eyes which you’re sure wouldn’t be as bad if not for the toll of the past few weeks. You stare. The logical part of your brain tells you this is not the solution, but it’s nowhere near as loud as the voice telling you it is. Will it hurt? Probably. But that pales in comparison to what they’ll do to you if they catch you. And you can’t let that happen. You won’t. You thought your hand would be trembling as it makes its way up to just underneath your lower lash line, but it’s as steady as a rock. You really should’ve gone to medical school. Just a few minutes more and this will all be over.

I mean, if you can’t trust your eyes, what are you left wiht?

[megalony]

Genetic disorder- Part 4

This is another part of my dad! Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone is enjoying so far.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @buckythediv

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ben tipped his head down as he grasped the edge of the counter in his hands, feeling the sharp edge cutting into his palms almost enough to draw blood. He tried to calm down his breathing but it wasn't working very well. His upper half was stooped over the counter as he tried to stretch out his right leg to see if it would relieve the growing tension in his hip but it wasn't working very well.

He held his breath in his throat as he scanned his eyes over the counter that held various bottles of pills and creams, a glass of water, about four sheets of instructions on when to take them and how to take them and there was a pharmacy bag that he got them all in.

His prescription had finally come through and that meant Ben could now rely on painkillers specifically for his weakening muscles rather than normal paracetamol that did very little for his pain.

Ben fisted the bottle of beta-blockers which were for his heart and stuffed them into the small plastic tub which had his name plastered on it in the cupboard above him. He needed a tub or a container for the meds he had to have so the girls didn't grab them by mistake and for now his heart was doing okay. He had another bottle of beta-blockers which he had stuffed into his car so when he went to work he had them for emergencies.

Looking at the bottles that were left, Ben tried to work out which tablets he should take. There were three bottles left that were different ranged painkillers and tablets to simply take the edge off rather than do very much.

The actor had scanned over the instructions and they said nothing about mixing the tablets. There was nothing to suggest he would get any side effects from that and he wanted a concoction because it would be more effective to take more than less. Taking the bottle of high dose pills, Ben threw two into the palm of his hand before downing them with some water before he grabbed a different bottle. Taking two of the tablets that would simply take away the strain on his hip. He decided to leave the third bottle untouched, not needing them at the moment.

Grabbing the tub of his meds, Ben dumped the bottles and the few tubes of cream into it, wanting them out of his sight. Throwing the mind-bending instructions in with them before snapping the cupboard closed. Tears welled in his eyes from the uncontrollable pain that he needed to disappear.

Ben had yet to tell his manager or the director of his latest movie about his new-found condition. He knew he had to at some point but for the time being, Ben simply wanted to be seen and treated as normal. He didn't want people fussing or acting like he was a cripple or thinking he was going to be a liability which is how he felt at the moment. He had been doing a stunt today that didn't go the way they had planned as it resulted in Ben having to take the afternoon off from the pain it caused his hip.

"Daddy!"

At the sound of Taylor's surprised voice, Ben pushed himself up so he was standing properly and not resting his weight onto the counter. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door opening, now remembering that he hadn't told (Y/n) he'd left set early.

He managed a smile when both twins hurried into the kitchen to see him, opening his arms for them without realising how much force both of them had. Ben felt blood beginning to well in his mouth when his teeth sharply bit down into his lower lip to stop himself from groaning when Taylor barrelled into his right hip. Neither of the twins knew that Ben had a disorder, they simply knew that he had a bad hip but they were under the impression it was going to get better, not worse. Ben had also yet to tell his family and friends about it, the only person who did know was (Y/n).

He rested his hands to the back of their heads, running his fingers through their hair as he tried to calm down and breathe normally but his hip was on fire and Taylor had unintentionally made it worse.

"Alright, can you both go get changed? I need a word with your mum." Ben kissed their temples before nudging them in the direction of the stairs. As soon as their pattering footsteps hit the stairs Ben flopped down into one of the kitchen chairs, letting the tears fall aimlessly from his eyes as he looked at (Y/n). Seeing her walking back into the house, directing Lola into the living room before heading into the kitchen to see Ben.

(Y/n) gently set the sleeping newborn in her arms into Ben's when he reached out for James, needing something to calm him down and stop himself from lashing out and a cuddle with his boy was the perfect distraction.

"How come your home?" (Y/n) asked quietly, pressing her lips to the top of his head before wrapping her arms around his shoulders when he pressed his face into her chest. She hated seeing him like this because it wasn't fair and it simply wasn't like Ben. He wasn't someone that she normally saw cry except for very odd occasions or when the kids were born. He wasn't someone who normally struggled in this kind of way and he never had any physical problems.

Ben was healthy, active, an avid sportsperson, he wasn't someone who should have this kind of disorder because it took a large part of him away. Especially when he was just reaching a pivotal point in his career.

"I had to do a stunt, I was meant to run with this harness on for safety but it was cutting into my hip and I tripped. Couldn't carry on so they sent me home for the day." The stunt had looked so easy and it generally was, if Ben didn't have this disorder he would have done it no problem. It was meant to make him look like he was running down the top of a building but obviously for safety in the studio they put him in a harness on some wires. It had been too low on his hips and dug into his muscles and bones too tightly and when he started to run it felt like he had a broken hip, causing him to fall.

"You haven't told them yet, have you?"

Ben slowly pulled back so he could look at her, his eyes following her as she moved to sit down next to him at the table. His silence was enough to tell (Y/n) that he had told no one about his disorder when he really needed to in case something worse happened or went wrong and it hurt him or backfired on him.

Tilting his head down, Ben pressed his lips to the top of James' head as the baby boy slowly wriggled against him. Staying curled up against Ben's chest and shoulder as he seemed to be worn out.

"Once I tell them that's it. My manager's going to filter what auditions I get and pick the boring or stupid ones or small roles I don't want." Ben got told about all the parts he could go up for and the ones that were interested in him but when he told people about his disorder that would be it. His manager would cut down on the action roles or the ones with more stunts right away when Ben was still able to perform almost at one hundred percent. He wanted to be treated the same as he was now and he knew that wouldn't happen once his disorder was known.

"What about everyone else? Your parents, George, Anna, the boys? People need to know eventually-"

"Eventually, but not yet."

Ben wasn't ready to tell his family, he didn't want to tell his parents because he could see them trying to hug him or crying or not knowing what to do. Ben wouldn't be able to tell his sister without her crying and his brother would simply freeze and either dismiss it or go over it too much. No one would simply take in the information and move on like Ben wanted, he wished he could tell them and then that would be it. No tears, no hugs or sympathetic looks, they just ignore it like it wasn't happening.

"Do you want some good news?" (Y/n) spoke gently as she watched Ben's expression change, intrigue in his eyes as he urged her to carry on talking. "The doctors called me this morning, James doesn't have it."

Ben's eyes went wide before he felt like his heart was going to explode. His hands started to shake as he rubbed one hand gently over James' head, kissing his temple as more tears started to fall from his eyes. That was definitely the kind of news Ben needed to hear at the moment. He hadn't gone and potentially ruined his son's life by passing down what he had. James could quite possibly develop it in the future but for now, he was okay and he was going to have a normal childhood.

He was going to be pain-free, which is more than could be said for Ben.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Try this."

Ben tipped his head to the side with a sceptical look on his face when (Y/n) handed him a glass of what looked like some kind of smoothie or powdered water that was a dusty white colour. Ben took the glass from her, sniffing it before looking at her, silently asking to be told what it was. Ben wasn't someone who would try something without knowing what it was or what was in the drink.

"I did some research, creatine gives energy to the muscles and it can improve your symptoms. So I bought some creatine supplements, its powder you put into water and you can have up to two a day so if you drink that, it might help."

(Y/n) knew that this wasn't something that was definitely going to help Ben and she knew it would take a while but anything was worth a try. Creatine supplements had been found to help people with muscular dystrophy and it didn't have many, if any, side effects. She thought if Ben gave them a try they might do something to help. It could stop him from feeling cramps in his muscles or just make him feel a bit more energised when he went to work since he was doing long hours and many stunts.

"Thank you, sweetheart." Ben kissed her temple as his lips formed a heartwarming smile. He knew that (Y/n) was going to be putting up with a lot and he didn't want to burden her but having her helping him like this or just being by his side made everything feel easier.

They had four kids and Ben was going to be in more pain as the years went on and would need help. It was undoubtedly going to put a strain on things and he would never want to rely on (Y/n) too much but she seemed to take everything in her stride.

Ben downed the drink almost in one go, finding that it didn't really taste of anything which made it easier to drink. He couldn't stand the weird energy drinks or smoothies or creations people came up with for diets or workouts.

"I've been thinking, and please hear me out on this." (Y/n) pressed her lips into a line as she moved over to the highchair to give Lola a biscuit before going back over to Ben. She wrapped her arms around his torso, tilting her head up to be level with his own as her eyes silently told him to at least think about what she was going to suggest. (Y/n) knew it wasn't going to be what Ben wanted to hear but if he was going to try and carry on as normal and not tell anyone then he needed a bit of help to do that.

"Go on." He urged, loosely wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

"Why don't you go to physio?"

(Y/n) watched Ben's eyes widen as that was not a suggestion he was expecting her to come up with. He didn't see the point in that when he could walk perfectly well, he had no back or arm problems yet and his legs weren't close to being worse off. It was only one hip that was deteriorating and he already knew the pain was going to get a lot worse in his hip in months to come.

Physio seemed a waste of time when he could simply carry on going to the gym and doing his workouts and routines he had been doing for years.

"Physio for what? I can still walk you know." (Y/n) tightened her arms around his middle as she rose her brows, silently asking him to be serious. She knew that perfectly well but Ben was going to need help and he couldn't carry on like this for much longer.

"It's not just to get people walking again, Ben. They can give you exercises and tips and ideas to stop your hip from hurting and it will help your muscles. The gym only maintains your muscles, it won't rid them of any pain or stiffness or keep them working. Physio is targeted at the specific muscles that are going to hurt you." (Y/n) had gone to physio herself, she knew what it was like and she knew that it did help.

Ben could go to simply get some ways on how to keep his hip muscles strong or to stop the joints from stiffening or seizing up. He could get told how to help them and what to do and what to avoid. It was worth a try in the very least.

"I don't-"

"You said this was happening too fast, isn't it worth trying everything to slow it down?" They both knew that Ben was not going to get better anytime soon, he was going to deteriorate slowly and painfully. Ben had the right to explore every option to try and slow the progression down or to simply make it easier for himself and he shouldn't just stick to meds because they weren't always going to work.

He tipped his head back for a moment, trying to think and stay calm but physio simply brought one thought into his head and it was one he was so desperate to avoid. He bit down on his lip when (Y/n) gently tilted his head back down so he was looking at her. Her eyes asking him what the problem was.

"I can deal with supplements and popping pills and doctors appointments because I can pretend they're for something else... but physio is admitting it. It's a reminder that I know in ten years time I won't be able to run and that in a few more years I might not be walking. Right now I can walk and run and move, I don't want to admit I'm gonna lose that."

Taking supplements and pills was easy, his mind could come up with thousands of reasons why he was doing that. He could pretend nothing was wrong when he went to see a doctor. But physio was a big step that admitted he was going to get worse.

Ben had been told that in ten years his thigh muscles and his hips would be weakening to the point running wouldn't be easy and walking would be a pain. He could be in a wheelchair or need help to walk by the time he was fifty. Ben didn't want that to be his future but he had no way of stopping that or knowing exactly when his legs were going to be affected. Physio reminded him that in a few years time he could be going back there because he couldn't walk and he didn't want that future to be his own.

"Physio isn't what you think it is, sweetheart. You go in, talk and have a small checkup and then you just get exercises and tips. It's just like going to the doctor. I know you, Ben. I know you're going to ignore any pain you feel and you're going to walk and talk like nothing is wrong and I admire you so much for that. But I want you to help yourself here, and you deserve to try everything you can to keep this point of physical health for as long as you can."

Ben was never going to show people how his disorder was affecting him, he didn't want them to watch or glare at him or to feel sorry for him and show him their sympathy. He would act like nothing was wrong, he would play football or rugby or any sports with his kids or his friends, he would go to work and do stunts. He would walk down the street and show no one that he was breaking from pain.

But he deserved to give himself the best chances he could at staying the way he was now and if physio would help even the tiniest bit, he deserved to give it a try.

[friendlytikek]

Good Together (1/1)

On AO3.

Summary: In the seven months Charles has been dating Erik, he can’t recall a time when Lorna has been sick enough for Erik to use sad face emojis and to refuse to allow the babysitter to look after her. Like a good boyfriend, he decides to go over and help out.

Today, 3:03 PM

From: Erik

Lorna’s sick ☹ Could we rearrange tonight? Promise I’ll make it up to you x

I don’t want to leave her with the sitter like this.

The moment the text comes through, Charles feels his heart twist in his chest. In the seven months he’s been dating Erik, he can’t recall a time when Lorna has been sick enough for Erik to use sad face emojis and to refuse to allow the babysitter to look after her. The sharp twist is swiftly followed by a spike of worry and he taps out his reply almost immediately.

Today, 3:05 PM

From: Charles

Of course. Is everything okay? I hope she isn’t too unwell. Do you need anything? x

It feels as if waiting for a reply to come through is a lifetime and Charles drums his fingers on his office desk. If Erik needs him, he’s not got any more classes. It’ll be easy to just get in the car and drive to Erik’s small house. Three dots appear, indicating Erik is typing. Then they stop and it’s another minute before they resume. Charles is around ninety percent certain Erik is trying to determine how much to tell him without making him worry.

Today, 3:12 PM

From: Erik

It’s not that she’s really unwell, but she won’t stop crying. I haven’t had this little sleep since she was a newborn. But I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’ll see you another night.

A fond smile creeps onto Charles’ face before he can stop it and a moment later, he’s packing his laptop up into its bag and tucking some essays he needs to grade in along with it. His mind is all but made up, but still, he shoots a message back to Erik, just to make sure he isn’t going to accidentally intrude.

Today, 3:14 PM

From: Charles

I might be able to help.

This time around, Erik’s response is almost immediate.

Today, 3:15 PM

From: Erik

Really?

For Erik to already be on the verge of agreeing to accepting help, Charles knows he must be having a pretty tough time. He wonders just how long Lorna has been crying for and finds his heart twisting again. Erik may be one of the most stubborn men he’s ever met, not that Charles can blame him. He’s felt Erik’s mind and knows how much he stresses about proving himself a capable father, with no mother at all in the picture.

Today, 3:17 PM

From: Charles

Yes, if you don’t mind me using my powers.

Today, 3:19 PM

From: Erik

At this point, I’ll take anything.

Only if you’re sure you want to come.

So, Lorna must have been crying for a while. The poor baby. She’s just over a year old and Charles has little to no experience with babies, but she’s had him wrapped around her little finger from the moment they first met, when Erik accidentally crashed her pushchair into the back of his leg in a café and sent hot coffee spilling down his front. God, it had hurt, but it had made Lorna giggle and Erik was so handsome that somehow Charles had found himself apologising, though they’d both accepted that in retrospect, Charles had no responsibility at all for the incident.

It was a hell of a meet-cute and Charles wouldn’t trade the last seven months for the world.

Charles picks up his bag and leaves his office, locking the door behind him. When he reaches his car, he deposits his bag onto the passenger seat before pulling his phone out again so he can tap out a reply.

Today, 3:26 PM

From: Charles

Already in my car. Do you need anything else? Anything from the pharmacy?

Whether Erik wants anything or not, Charles decides he’ll stop at the shops on the way. He starts the engine and pulls out of the car park, hearing his phone ping in his pocket as he does so. When he’s parked close to the shops nearest to Erik’s house, he opens his phone to read Erik’s reply.

Today, 3:29 PM

From: Erik

Just yourself is plenty. Thank you Charles.

It’s so Erik, Charles finds himself smiling at his phone again. He tells Erik he’ll be there in fifteen and climbs out of the car. Erik might not want anything, but a new toy might be just enough to distract Lorna and help her to get to sleep. There’s a wide selection of soft toys in the shop yet it’s the stuffed shark which catches Charles’ eye. He makes the purchase and hurries back to his car, tossing the shark onto the passenger seat next to his bag. It stares back at him, eyes wide, like it wants him to feel bad about buying Lorna another toy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he tells the shark as he starts the engine back up again. “She’s ill. Erik won’t mind.”

The shark stares at him for the entire ten-minute drive to Erik’s house and Charles can’t bring himself to knock it onto the floor of his car. When he pulls up outside of the small house – just two bedrooms, one for Erik, one for Lorna – he picks it up and tucks it under his arm, then grabs his bag and heads for the door. Keys held in his free hand, he locks the car and pauses on the doorstep of the house. He can’t hear any crying from outside, but he distantly registers two minds. One is grumpy and not nearly as coherent as the other, which projects exhaustion so strongly Charles is almost knocked for six. That’s Erik, he knows. He’s thinking a steady stream of, Please go to sleep please go to sleep please don’t cry. It’s those three phrases on repeat, so Lorna must’ve calmed down at least somewhat since Erik first messaged.

Charles decides to go for it and pushes down on the front door handle. It’s a testament to how tired Erik is that he doesn’t even startle at the sound of the door opening. It’s just me, Charles tells him anyway, kicking off his shoes and nudging them into line with Erik’s. His bag goes down next to the console table.

Didn’t hear you come in. We’re upstairs. Lorna’s room.

So as not to disturb Lorna, Charles tiptoes up the stairs and along the hallway to Lorna’s bedroom. She isn’t asleep yet; the door is only half-open, but Charles can already hear her whimpering. He pushes the door a little further open and immediately, his heart tightens in his chest. Erik had been fairly composed over text, but just at a glance, he looks a mess. His hair is sticking up at every possible angle, there are bags under his eyes, and he looks the most bedraggled Charles has ever seen him, his clothes completely mismatched and a pair of odd socks on his feet. One of them is half hanging off his foot.

Little Lorna continues to whimper even as Charles approaches, looking as if she’s somehow been glued to Erik’s chest. After putting the shark down in her crib, Charles leans up and presses a kiss to Erik’s temple. “Hey. You look exhausted,” he whispers, before reaching for one of Lorna’s green curls. She whimpers again and turns away, burying her face in Erik’s chest.

“I am,” Erik sighs, one hand rubbing up and down Lorna’s back. “It’s just Charles,” he murmurs to her, tilting his head downwards to make sure she hears the words. He glances up at Charles again, eyes full of exhaustion and apologies. “She’s really clingy right now. I’m sorry.”

Charles brings his hand down to cover Erik’s and Lorna sniffles into her dad’s chest. “That’s okay. You hold her then and I’ll work my magic,” he says, lifting his free hand to Lorna’s temple. She tries to shift away again but doesn’t resist for very long. He gently hushes her and closes his eyes, reaching into her mind. It’s more a case of soothing her rather than forcing her to fall asleep and when he opens his eyes again, the whimpering has eased away, and Lorna’s eyelids are drooping sleepily.

Already, Erik’s shoulders are slumping with relief, but neither of them dares to move yet. After a few agonising minutes, Lorna seems to be deeply asleep and slowly, carefully, Erik shifts to the crib and places her down. He eyes the shark and gives Charles a knowing look as he tucks it in next to her, then bends down and presses a kiss to Lorna’s forehead. When he straightens up again, Charles realises his hands are shaking, probably from having carried Lorna around for so long.

Wordlessly, Charles takes one of his hands and tugs him out of the room. When they’re on the landing, he wraps his arms around Erik and pushes himself up on tiptoe so he can finally kiss Erik properly. The door clicks shut behind them and it’s only after a few long moments Charles pulls away. “You’re such a good dad, you know,” he murmurs, picking up worry and doubt at the very edges of Erik’s mind. “You can’t help that she’s sick.”

Erik laughs weakly. “I feel like a pretty shit dad,” he admits, so brutally open it catches Charles by surprise. Usually Erik’s emotions are locked tightly under layers of impenetrable metal, meant for nobody to access except himself. “She cried for so long last night. She’s been crying for hours today. There were maybe two, three hours of sleep in the middle of that.”

“She’s a baby,” Charles says, reaching up to cup Erik’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “She wanted her dad. She doesn’t understand this whole ‘needing sleep’ thing properly yet. You did a really wonderful job.”

“But she wouldn’t have gone down at all if you weren’t here,” Erik says, rubbing at his eyes and sighing, before leaning into Charles’ touch and closing his eyes tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m so tired.”

Charles smiles at him and drops his hand so he can tug Erik towards his bedroom. “Now it’s your turn to sleep,” he says, squeezing his hand and pushing open the door. The curtains are already shut, so he guides him to the bed, switches on the lamp, and pushes him gently to sit down, then to lie down. “If Lorna wakes up, I’ll get her. It’s okay to ask for help, Erik. I’m your boyfriend. I want to help,” he assures him.

“Boyfriend makes us sound like we’re teenagers,” Erik says, snorting as he flops back onto his bed and begins working to pull the covers up around himself. “I know you don’t mind helping, but I just… it’s my job, you know?” He rubs at his eyes again and sighs. “Pushed away any help to begin with and I feel like now I have to prove I’m able to actually handle this on my own.”

“Even two parents struggle with babies,” Charles can’t help but point out, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I really do want to help. I love you and I love Lorna. If you need help, there’s no shame in asking for it.”

Erik gives him a small smile and pats the empty space next to himself. “Stay with me?” he asks simply.

Not needing asking twice, Charles climbs across to the opposite side of the bed and lies down. “I mean it,” he says.

“I know you do,” Erik murmurs, rolling onto his side so he and Charles can look each other in the eyes. “And I’m really grateful you came over. Most people would’ve run a mile in the other direction.”

“Not me,” Charles says, beaming back at him. “I think I’m in this for the long-haul. I’m far too attached to you both.”

With a chuckle, Erik rolls back and shakes his head. “We’re pretty attached to you, too.” His eyes close and his entire body relaxes, the tension seeping out of him completely.

He goes so quiet, Charles is certain he’s immediately fallen asleep. He’s about to pull his phone out of his pocket to read some random threads on Reddit and scroll through Twitter when Erik speaks again.

“You should move in with us.”

His voice is sleepy and quiet but there’s nothing else he could’ve possibly said. Charles’ eyes go wide and his mouth drops open as he fumbles for a response. “Maybe when you’ve had some more sleep and a chance to think on it properly…” he starts.

Erik shakes his head and his eyes pop open again. “Charles, I love you. You love Lorna, you spoil her rotten. She loves you. We get along great even if our debates about politics can get heated,” he says, his voice gradually growing in confidence. He rolls onto his side again. “What have we got to lose? We’re good together.”

They are. They really are. Charles has never been happier – Raven comments on it all the time. Hell, even his fellow staff members have picked up on it. Being with Erik fills him with a warmth nothing else has even come close to and, he supposes, his apartment does feel horribly lonely, most days. Most days he just wants to be with Erik.

He swallows and then nods. “Yeah. We are,” he whispers, looking right back at Erik. He manages another nod. “Okay then. Let’s do it.”

Erik’s mouth transforms into the biggest grin Charles has ever seen on another person. The lamp switches off with a flick of his hand and Charles hears him turning over again, then he shuffles closer to Charles. Warm arms wrap around him and Charles can’t help but curl into Erik’s touch, closing his eyes and breathing in his scent.

“You don’t worry about what people might think?” he whispers into the dark. “That I’m trying to replace Susanna?”

“No,” Erik says firmly, pressing a kiss to Charles’ neck. “You know I don’t care what anyone else thinks. She walked out. It’s been a year, Charles. And so what if you were replacing her? You’ve been more of a parent to Lorna than she ever was.” He pauses, then starts to add, sounding worried, “Not that I want you to move in to be a co-parent. That’s not why I’m asking you to move in.”

“I know you’re not,” Charles quickly says, rubbing Erik’s arm. “I understand. I want to move in. I really do.”

There’s the distinct sound of Erik taking in a deep breath. “Then let’s do it. Let’s just do it,” he says.

“As soon as possible,” Charles agrees. Erik’s grip around his waist tightens, just a little. The joy in the room is almost overwhelming, but Charles likes it. More than that, he loves how happy they make on another. There’s no way he’d change a thing.

.x.x.x.

Two weeks later, and one week after Charles moves in, they have a good routine going.

It might, he thinks, as he watches Erik pull faces at Lorna, trying to convince her peas and carrots are good enough to eat, be time to start looking for a ring.

Also on AO3.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Two Left Feet by mattzerella_sticks

After so long in the family business, you need to carve out your own moments to relax. And what better time than immediately after freeing a ghost from its tether to the mortal plane. Especially after nearly dying from its hands.

Although if the ghost didn't kill him, Dean is sure Cas will. Asking him to dance was a tempting offer, one Dean knows would draw him close enough to the sun that his wings might melt. He happily takes Cas up on his offer.

Will the free fall be worth it?

Dean drops onto the floor, spectered hands around his neck dissolving into wispy dust. He stutters a gasp while trying to calm his rapid heart beat, vision slowly becoming more defined. Enough that he can see the outline of the bulbs hanging overhead and not confuse them for strange, indoor stars.

A hand jumps into view, flexed and waiting. Sam arches a brow at him, “Are you gonna stare at it or…?”

“Give me a break,” Dean sighs, grabbing Sam’s hand. His brother hauls him upwards, Dean wobbling momentarily. “You weren’t the one nearly choked out by the kinky ghost.”

“You’d prefer he attack in a bedroom or something?”

“Shut up…” He pokes at his neck, wincing. Their ghost left its mark on Dean in a way he won’t forget for a couple of weeks. Dean hopes they can stop by a pharmacy on their way to the motel, otherwise he’ll need to invest in some turtlenecks.

It was supposed to be a simple salt ‘n’ burn. A break after all the resurrected hijinks Chuck dumped on their doorsteps. Something easy they could handle if their hands were tied or they were blindfolded. Sam showed them the article three days ago about people choking on their food in this restaurant. While not unusual, five people choking in the span of two hours meant the case fell into the hunters' jurisdiction. Sam pressed their suits, Dean readied their I.D.s, and Cas loaded the fresh pound of salt they bought into Baby’s trunk.

Not even a day in Lubbock Sam figured out who their ghost was. The owner’s daughter was talking to them a few feet away from where Dean stood now, telling them about her father. How he started Sweet Ray’s Home Foods to bring people together and have them care about what they eat. And that in his twilight years he felt all the work he did went nowhere. People don’t care about food today - all they want is ambience and presentation. Because Sweet Ray’s was losing more than they were making Ann Marie fed the belly of the trend beast.

“Every time I look at the portrait of Daddy I feel like he’s disappointed in me,” she said, frowning at the kind smile on the older man’s face. Hand poised on his hat as if caught mid-tip.

“Felt like people were disrespecting his food,” Sam whispered to him, “all the people who choked were known food bloggers in the area…” Clearing his throat, he asked, “I’m sure he’s proud of you for staying with the family business… a lot of people are. Local place, been in the area for years… His burial must’ve been well attended?”

She screwed her face tight, considering the question. Dean worried she wouldn’t answer. Deem it too invasive and not important for the case. Luckily she said, “Wasn’t any burial. Came into this world as dust and that’s how we’re gonna go out…”

With their graveyard plan turning to ash he was worried they’d have to do more detective work. Risk tripping over a sore nerve and being cast off from the restaurant before finding the haunted object. But Cas came in with the most important observation. He stared up at the portrait long after the rest of them had their fill. “Your father’s hat,” he asks, “It’s remarkable.”

“It is, isn’t it?” she asked, glancing at it again, “Custom made. Anniversary present from momma - wore it all the time. Wanted it to be cremated with him but I… I couldn’t part with it. So I have it sitting where he always had it, on a bust of Clint in my office.”

Tether found they quickly wrapped up the interview. As Sam left their contact info with Ann Marie, Dean pulled Cas to the side. “Good job pinning the hat. What made you think of it?”

“I honestly didn’t think the hat would be so important,” Cas said, “I only wanted to know if they sold others like it. Thought it might look nice on you…”

Cas walked away, leaving Dean with a flushed face and a mind stuck in an endless loop searching for the correct response. Neither mentioned it again for the rest of the day. Not when they had all the time to kill in the late afternoon where they filled the silence with local news and bad reruns of shows they haven’t seen. Nor as Dean went to grab the hat from the office, touch lingering while he handed his lighter over.

Except he passed a mirror, and Cas’s words returned with full force. He wondered what he might look like in it as well. Dean only had a second to admire it, though, as popping up behind his reflection was the ghost they were hunting. It flung him out of the office and into the dining area, disturbing many of the tables and chairs. Then, without letting up, Ray appeared above him and clung to his neck like a stubborn tie.

It was supposed to be a simple salt ‘n’ burn, but Dean guesses he might be too old for even those anymore.

Cas enters from the kitchen, beers in hand. “I know it’s not a substitute for angel mojo, but,” he offers one to Dean, “it’ll make you feel better?” His neck burns from the weight of Cas’s stare. Thinking about times when all he needed was to brush up against Dean to fully heal him. Except when Chuck left he took all the power with him, meaning Cas was as human as everyone else. A thrilling but terrifying thought.

Dean thanks him with a weak smile, half his face barely finding the energy to twitch. Accepting the bottle, he takes a healthy sip from it and collapses onto a nearby chair that wasn’t overturned.

Sam joined, sitting across from him. Cas opted to lean against the nearby bar.

“Hat burn nicely?”

“Still smoldering when I left it,” Sam said, “Cas?”

“It’s gone,” he told them, “I kept the remains in the skillet, though. Along with a note apologizing to Ann Marie. Hopefully she can add it to her father’s ashes.” Cas glanced away from them, sipping at his beer.

“As long as you didn’t sign off on it then that’s fine…” Dean trails off as Cas pushes off the bar and over to the nearby jukebox. He fiddled with it silently while his backside faced the brothers. Meeting Sam’s curious gaze for a beat, Dean returned to staring at his friend’s rumpled trench coat. “Whatcha doing there, Cas?”

“It’s too quiet in here,” Cas says, “Since we exorcised her father and burnt her hat, I’m sure Ann Marie won’t mind us listening to a song or two.”

“Or drink a few of her beers,” Sam chuckles, sipping from his own bottle.

“That too.” He turns around and smiles, “Any recommendations?”

Dean waves his drink, “Whatever you want… as long as you got the change, that is.”

Cas digs in his pocket for a quarter, refocusing on the records inside the jukebox. Finding a loose coin, Cas slips it into the slot and chooses. A soft melody strums through the speakers as slow and sweet as molasses. He sways on the spot to the music.

It’s an enchanting song, the singer crooning in a deep twang to accompany his guitar playing. Cas twirls, his trench coat fanning behind him. He peeks one eye open at them and frowns. “This isn’t right.”

“Don’t know about that,” Dean says, “looks pretty right to me.”

“No I meant,” he sighs, advancing towards their table. “I shouldn’t be dancing alone. It’s so… awkward . One of you should come dance with me.”

Dean’s grip on the bottle’s neck tightens. He swallows around the bundle of nerves in his throat, made tougher by how the ghost squeezed it. Cas keeps his eyes trained on Dean’s as he steps closer. Only at the last minute he switches over to stand by Sam. “Would you care to join me, Sam?”

Sam schools his features to hide how amused he is. He shakes his head, “Sorry, Cas, I wouldn’t be any good. Was born with two left feet.”

“Shame,” Cas hums, returning his attention to Dean, “Were you, then?”

The haze Dean’s trapped him blocks out most of his hearing. Fluttering his lashes he asks, “Was I what?”

“Born with two left feet?”

Thrown, Dean answers honestly with a meek ‘no’.

“Good,” Cas grins, teeth unfurling like the bright, white banner of Dean’s surrender, “Then come dance with me.”

Disagreement bubbles within him, burst by the sharp blue of Cas’s gaze. He sighs and finishes off his drink. “You know I can’t say no to you, angel.”

Tensing, Dean waits for Cas to pull away from him. Except he never does. Never rages or cries or leaves like he expects him to, like he thinks he should. The first time Dean used that nickname was one tiresome night after putting down some ghouls. They gathered in the kitchen, too exhausted to find their rooms. Barely conscious he asked his friend, “Angel could you put on the coffee?”

No caffeine could compare to the adrenaline shooting through him after saying that. He bit his lip and glanced over at Cas, hoping he hadn’t heard him. But Cas nodded and dug inside the cabinets for the K-cups.

Dean tried apologizing between sips of his coffee. Cas wouldn’t accept it, telling him it was okay. “I might not be an angel anymore,” he sighed, running his thumb against the rim of his mug, “yet I’m glad I can be… your angel.”

He sealed that tender moment in the walk-in freezer of his mind so he wouldn’t have to deal with it, along with every other uncomfortable thought Dean has about Cas. If Dean didn’t focus too much on those feelings than he wouldn’t have to deal with the disappointment that would surely follow.

“Dean?” Cas disturbs him from his trance, “Before the song ends?”

Rolling his eyes, Dean pulls himself forward and into his friend’s space. “C’mere,” he says, dragging him closer with a hand at his back. His other hand tangles with Cas as they sway into the makeshift dance floor the ghost created.

Cas’s hand rests at his lower back. Even if he is human now it still burns like Cas pours all his grace through this point of connection. His head drifts close to Dean’s in a way that forces every nerve to spark and ready for the inevitable. While they share orbits and their breaths mingle, Cas never gets close enough to press skin against skin. Instead leaning away to sway onto his heels.

It’d be easy for Dean to leap first. Their fingers are already tangled together, fit so perfectly Dean can’t believe he’s actually allowed to hold Cas in such a way. His face pinches with the forced tightness he inflicts on his expression. If he let it slip he might scare Cas with the pure fire and delight wanting to break free. If their cheeks did happen to brush or Cas’s eyelashes tickled his nose Dean might burst. Lose all consciousness and only awake after doing something he would regret never being able to remember.

The song starts trailing off and Cas’s expression falters. Like he wants another minute of dancing, to spend more time with him. Dean would trade anything for the song to never end, so he and Cas could dance around each other into eternity. Unable to do that he tries to make the last few chords special and twirls Cas around.

“Hey!” Sam calls, “You want me to throw you a rose?”

Immediately remembering their audience, Dean’s face flushes a bright pink. Dean steps away from Cas and strides towards the exit. “Should probably be getting out of here anyway…”

Dean has his hand on Baby’s door when he realizes finding his keys is impossible. Because Cas never let go of his hand. Or, more embarrassingly, Dean won’t let him leave.

“Uh, sorry there, Cas,” Dean starts, fingers twitching in his hold, “didn’t mean to… leave with you like that.”

“I didn’t mind, Dean,” Cas says, smiling at him like how the sun parts through clouds,“It is rather late, isn’t it? At least we managed to have one dance…”

“Half a dance,” he corrects him, cringing.

“Half a dance…” Cas repeats, expression never faltering, “then we should finish it at some point, don’t you think?”

“What?”

“Might I confess something?” he continues, mouth dipping close to the shell of his ear. Dean’s thoughts stretch and thin until finally his sanity snaps. He nods, not trusting his voice to crack like he was a teenager all over again. Cas chuckles, breath ghosting and leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Seeing the ghost mark you up like that… makes me sad that I cannot remove those bruises like I used to. But I have a solution that would… satisfy both of us.”

His hand not caught in Dean’s slowly rubs at Dean’s neck. There’s no mistaking the subtext, a heady stare following his electric touch hammering the point home.

Dean’s lips stretch wide in a bright grin. “I’d like that.”

Sam barges in, shotgun in one hand and the bag of salt tucked under his arm. “Thanks for helping me clean up, guys,” he says, “Really appreciate it.”

Usually whenever Sam clumsily knocks into one of his and Cas’s moments Dean flings himself away faster than a bullet. Except he can’t find any reason to tear himself from Cas’s side, rooted to the ground happily.

“Catch,” he says after a quick dip into his pocket.

Sam panics, nearly dropping the salt to keep the keys from falling to the ground. “What? Want me to drive?”

“I got choked out by the ghost, it’s the least you can do,” Dean smirks, stepping in time with Cas to the backseat, “Besides… my hands are gonna be pretty busy.”

“Gross. I better not catch you two getting heavy in the rearview mirror.”

“Then don’t be a perv, Sammy.”

Sam sighs and drops the argument, bypassing them to go towards the trunk. Dean opens the door and tumbles into Baby clutching Cas. They giggle like they don’t have the weight of the world on their shoulders. As light and free as smoke off a freshly lit cigarette, rising above the cinders they’ve left in their wake.

“Hey, angel?”

“Yes Dean?”

“Thanks for asking me to dance.”

“Thank you for dancing with me.”

“I can’t say no to you, angel,” Dean whispers, “not now… not ever.” They kiss, a simple touch of their lips against each other. It’s over faster than he can blink. But it’s okay. Dean knows there are more kisses waiting for him. More kisses, more dancing, and more of his angel.