#I’m sorry but I’ve literally been stewing in anger about men like this for over a year now

[singhallelujahh]

Watched like 30 seconds of that Benedictine commencement speech and wanted to vomit

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Foolishly Intelligent

Based on this request:  I love your imagines! I would like to request a Sherlock imagine if that’s alright? Something along the line of the reader being Mycroft’s and Sherlock’s far younger sister. She tries to connect with her brothers but often feels left out. She started in her teens by Learning everything about murders, investigation and politics in order to find common ground with her brothers. Ad an adult this leads to her being part of Scotland Yard and always giving Greg an heart attack due to jumping into dangerous situations. He’s had enough and decides after one close call too many to involve her big brothers to chew her out.

Here you are! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Warnings: Angst, arguing, Caring big brothers that pretend not to care because one is a high-functioning sociopath and the other is Mycroft XD, mentions of possible crush??

Pairings/Characters: fem!reader, brother!Sherlock Holmes, brother!Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade

Greg Lestrade had had it. You were a wonderful detective, that much was true, but you had a bad habit. You liked to put yourself in dangerous situations ALL. THE. TIME! You would often quite literally throw yourself into harm's way to get the job done or to protect others. Greg normally wouldn't say anything even though it gave him a near heart attack every time. But since learning of Sherlock's fake death, it had become worse.

         The man could sort of understand where you were coming from. You had big shoes to fill with your brothers being who they were. Even as a child, you'd had trouble connecting with them. You had gone out of your way to learn and do things to help your relationship. And it wasn't that they didn't love you or respect you. It was that they could often have full conversations just through a look or that they would play their little deduction games and you would feel left out.

         You'd told Greg, after having a few drinks one night, that you had been trying since your teens to connect with Sherlock and Mycroft. You were just as intelligent as they were so you began learning about murder, investigations, and even politics from an early age. Still, nothing seemed to help you connect with them. You'd even joined the Yard to spend more time with Sherlock.

         But this last time was one too many for Greg. You had nearly died and the DI had a soft spot for you. In fact, you were the only Holmes the man could stand being around for more than a few minutes at a time. He didn't think he could take it if you kept running head-on into danger, but he knew you wouldn't listen to him. So, as he sat there next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up, he contemplated who you would listen to. There were only two people that popped into his head.

         With a soft sigh, Greg stood and left your room to make a call. "Hello, Gavin. Has there been a murder?" Greg pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't lose his temper now. "No, Sherlock." Sherlock scoffed on the other end of the line. "Boring. If you've nothing interesting to offer me, I'll say goodbye now."

         "WAIT!" Greg shouted, then a little more softly added, "Your sister's in hospital." For a moment, there was only silence. Then Sherlock spoke again, "Watson, call Mycroft. St. Bart's?" Greg confirmed and was promptly hung up on. You were going to hate him when you woke, but at least your brothers might be able to talk some sense into you.  

         Sherlock burst through the doors a little while later, with Mycroft sauntering in a few moments after. "Would someone care to explain why I have been dragged from an important meeting?" Mycroft asked, prompting Greg and John to glare at the younger Holmes brother. "You didn't tell him?!" Greg hissed before turning to Mycroft, "Long story short, your sister's here. She decided to go into a hostage situation, alone, with no sidearm." Mycroft's brows furrowed briefly before a look of pure rage came over his features for a moment.

         "And you didn't stop her?" Greg opened his mouth, but it was Sherlock who answered, "Oh please, Mycroft. Y/N would never listen if the lives of others are in danger. Not to Gordon anyway." Greg once again rolled his eyes. Would that man ever call him by his actual name?

         "He's right. She doesn't listen. She's always throwing herself into situations like this. I thought, when she wakes up, the two men she looks up to the most could talk some bloody sense into her. Maybe then she'll listen." Both Holmes brothers merely stared at the DI, causing him to huff and walk away with John at his heels. He couldn't deal with them any longer for the moment. He needed to return to your side.

         Just his luck, you were already awake when he pushed the door open. "Inspector," you greeted tersely. You had seen John behind him so you knew Sherlock wasn't far behind. "Don't look at me like that, Detective." You scoffed. "Like what? Like you betrayed my trust by calling them in? I know they're here. Might as well bring them in so I can hear all about how disappointed Mummy will be." Greg's brows furrowed in confusion. "Y/N…I just want you to be safe. Your brothers do too."

         "Oh? Which brothers? The one who chucks himself off a building and pretends to be dead for 2 years? Or the one who knows about it and says nothing? Or the ones who refuse to let me into their lives, no matter how hard I try? I know I'm not brilliant like they are, but I try, dammit. And this is the only time I ever seen them away from home. When I'm in hospital."

         "Fine," Greg soothed, "Fine. Don't talk to them. I don't care. But you have to stop being so reckless and stupid, Y/N. For my sake." Greg gaze your hand a little squeeze before leaving the room and allowing your brothers to walk in. For a moment, you said nothing, watching the space Greg had just been occupying. You were trying not to cry. Your brothers didn't do well with hysterics.

         "Sherlock. Mycroft," you said. "Look at me, Y/N." You sighed softly. You knew you weren't exactly acting like an adult at the moment. That would get you nowhere with them. You swung your (e/c) eyes over to them. Sherlock stood with his hands in the pockets of his coat while Mycroft stared intently at you. They were both trying to deduce something about you. "Stop it," you ordered sharply, "Stop trying to deduce me and just ask me the question you want to ask." They exchanged a glance before turning back to you.

         "Inspector Lestrade informed us that you threw yourself in harm's way yet again." You shrugged a bit. "I would again too. There were children in there. The elderly." Sherlock let out a scoff. "And that makes it okay for you to be so monumentally stupid?"

         "I'm NOT stupid! Just because I'm not as callous as you are doesn't mean I'm an idiot, Sherlock! God, now I see the problem. It was never my fault we never connected. It was yours. You never tried." Your brothers stared at you in surprise. You had never spoken to them that way before. You rolled your eyes and groaned when your head began to hurt again.

         "Just go. Both of you. You can tell John and Inspector Lestrade that they are welcome here. I don't want to see you two again for a while." You turned your head away from them both, indicating that you were done with the conversation. You heard them open the door to leave. "Oh, and don't you dare call Mummy. I'll tell her myself when I know I'm alright." Neither of them said anything, but left the room.

         When you heard the door close behind them, you let a few tears finally fall. You hadn't wanted to blow up at them and you'd mostly likely end up apologizing later, but for now you were upset. You didn't have long to stew in your anger though before the door opened again. You turned to look and sighed. "I thought I told you to go."

         "And we did. You failed to specify just how long you consider to be a 'while'. We listened to what you said and now it is your turn to listen to us. Despite what you may think, you are no closer to 'connecting' with Mycroft or myself by running head-long into danger." You arched a brow at him. "Oh, you mean like you do?" Sherlock didn't look impressed, but you could see Mycroft trying not to smirk.

         "The point, little sister, is that, in spite of everything, your welfare is important to us. We need to know that you are safe. The career you've chosen lessens that likelihood, but deliberately putting yourself in situations where you could die destroys our hope for it completely."

         "Oh gee, Mycroft, you do care," you replied sarcastically. You let out another sigh, "Look, I'm sorry. I know you're right. Just…please. Please stop letting this be the only reason you even check in with me. I know I'm not like you two. I never have been, but stop shutting me out. Okay? If you can promise me that, then I will promise to try and be more careful. For Mother and Father's sake. And for Greg's." You tried not to let your face show any emotion. Nothing to give away anything.

         "Who?" You laughed lightly while Mycroft arched a brow. "We will discuss that topic at another time. I suppose I can agree to your terms. Sherlock?" Sherlock's blue eyes met yours and he nodded. You smiled; a genuine smile for the first time since they walked in the room. "Good. Now could you please leave? I'd really like to sleep now that I've been yelled at by both my brothers and my boss."

         They opened the door again and you sat up. "Oh, and seriously. Don't tell Mummy." With a chuckle, your brothers left and you laid back to get a little more rest. Mycroft and Sherlock nodded at Greg when they exited the room, knowing he'd heard everything anyway. Greg breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully things would get better now. Greg looked in at you and smiled when you gave him a tiny wave.

(a/n: I hope this does your request justice!)

[bgnmagic]

Whiskered Away

Summary: Arthur gets sent out to see the world after angering the King. He's not given much notice and is literally escorted out of the kingdom. Merlin was away visiting his mum at the time and is very upset to learn of his journey without him. So, Merlin sets off to find Arthur, he has to make sure the clotpole survives his adventure away from Camelot. Enough times passes that both Arthur and Merlin change in appearance.Why shave when you're on an adventure?  Beware beards abound!! XD -- Merlin could hardly believe his eyes, there, on the dirt path not fifty paces ahead of him was Arthur. The past two months of searching for his friend and failing had finally come to an end. Sighing in relief Merlin called out Arthur’s name. However, he was exhausted and the wind carried his weak voice away before it reached the intended target. Blast it all Merlin would have to run to catch him now.

Trying again he yelled louder, this at least got Arthur to stop the horse he was riding. Then, Arthur turned around and Merlin skidded to a halt. Life was apparently cruel, the man who turned had a scruffy beard and his blond hair was too long. It wasn’t Arthur after all.

Breathing heavily from running so fast Merlin worked to catch his breath. “Sorry – sorry I thought you were – someone else,” he managed. “I didn’t mean to shou--.” Merlin didn’t finish his thought as he gaped at the man before him. The blue eyes currently staring at him in shock were definitely Arthur’s, maybe it was really him. Renewed hope sprang through his veins. Merlin stumbled forward slightly and continued to look longingly at his prince.

“Merlin?!” Arthur exclaimed after a few seconds. “Dear gods man you don’t look like yourself at all!”

In hindsight Merlin had forgotten his own appearance. He’d foregone shaving on his journey as well. Unsure what his hair looked like Merlin self-consciously pat it down. “Sire,” he offered by way of an answer.

Arthur simply barked out a laugh and jumped off his horse, the other men he was with also halted and observed with neutral expressions. Merlin found himself being drawn into a strong, blessedly warm hug a moment later. Wrapping his arms around Arthur’s back Merlin allowed his mind to still. It had been a hard journey thus far to find Arthur, and now it was over.

“What are you doing here? Did you not get my note?” Arthur asked once they’d separated.

“Note? Wha? No, I’ve been searching for you since Uther sent you away when I was visiting my mum!” Merlin exclaimed, still upset at what Uther had done.

“Have you been trying to find me this whole time? Merlin, it’s been nearly two months!”

Nodding sheepishly Merlin let out a big breath, “I came back from my mum’s only to find out you’d been sent on some bizarre character building quest. I left before I even found out all the details.”

“There isn’t much to tell Merlin, father got mad at me for defending a good cause during a council meeting and decided I needed to learn more respect and sent me away to see more of the world.”

“How much more?!” Merlin lamented. “This is Germania for heaven’s sake. It took me nearly a month to even get on this bloody continent.”

“Ahh yes, well you didn’t have the lovely escort of knights I did to take me to the coast and make sure I got on a boat, did you?” Arthur grumbled.

“What did you say in your note?” Merlin asked suddenly curious of what he’d missed.

“Nothing truly special only that I had knights with me for protection and for you not to worry. I know how you get. I only intended to go as far as France but I got a little distracted.”

Smiling slightly at how Arthur would find purpose even when he’d clearly been trying to spite his father. “Now what?” Merlin asked as he glanced around to the other men in his small party. “I don’t think those are the knights you left with,” he noted with a raised eyebrow.

“Huh? Oh, the knights, yes, I ditched them as soon as the boat landed. Boring lot they were not very adventurous. Never mind them I found new friends, join us; we were attempting to find a camp site for the night. Do you not have a horse?”

“I’m not royalty like you Arthur, I can’t afford such things.”

“No matter, you can share with me. You look positively worn out. I hardly recognized you with all that hair going every which way.”

“Say’s you, who’s sporting an even fluffy beard than me.”

“You’re not around to shave my face now are you, come along,” Arthur ordered as he pushed them towards his horse.

Introductions were made of the other two men in the company but Merlin was too tired to really latch onto their names. One may have been called Randy and the other sounded like Marcus or Bracus. The only thing Merlin picked up on was one of them kept staring at him. Ignoring the attention Merlin held fast to the back of Arthur’s cloak and focused on not falling off. Now that Merlin was off his feet an overwhelming tiredness took hold.

Merlin managed to stay awake until they found a suitable place to stop and bed down for the night. It probably wouldn’t have been a very nice initial meeting to fall off the horse and crack his head open. Staying quiet Merlin knelt and began to unpack his own things. The other three men seemed to have a routine and Merlin was slightly jealous he’d been left out. Arthur was his friend but now he felt oddly out of place.

Wondering what he could help with Merlin forced his aching limbs to move as he stood. “Can I hel--.” Merlin’s breath caught in his throat mid-sentence. The man, Marcus or something, the one who’d kept staring at him had just used magic to light the fire. Absolutely no one seemed to care and that made Merlin very uncomfortable.

In a panic he glanced towards Arthur who was putting up a makeshift tent.  Had he not seen? With wide eyes Merlin whipped his head back around to Marcus. The man still had his head bent down and was carrying on like it was perfectly normal to use magic out in the open.

“What, Merlin?” Arthur asked as he spun around. “Sit down, you look like you’re about to fall over.”

“Shouldn’t I – help?” Merlin tried again attempting to not look nervous.

Arthur, damn him, picked up on his distress and crossed the short distance between them in a two quick strides. “You need to sit down, I don’t want you falling into the fire,” he replied while reaching out to guide him down to the ground.

“Sorry, I think I startled him starting the fire.” The other sorcerer offered by way of explanation.

“Oh shit, yeah, Marcus knows magic, um,” Arthur trailed off from his crouched position. “That must be a little jarring to see since, well, because of the laws back home and all,” Arthur finished.

“Magic shouldn’t bother him, he’s like me. I literally meant I started the fire without warning and he flinched, is all.”” Marcus added as he calmly setup a cooking pot over the fire.

Arthur’s full attention was on him an instant. The grip on his arm becoming almost painful as Arthur stared at him. “Is this true?”

Only able to nod due to his nerves, Merlin waited to see what Arthur would do.

“Fuck, Merlin. So you weren’t lying that day when you said you had magic in front of the entire council.” By now Arthur had released his grip and had stood up walking away in a daze.

“It’s no wonder he didn’t tell you Arty, from what you’ve said the punishment for magic back home is nasty,” Marcus supplied.

“How’d you know?” Merlin asked in a hoarse whisper.

“The protection spell you cast on your person is very strong,” said Marcus simply.

“Can I not do anything without the aid of magic!” Arthur bellowed after a beat. “I was in this place for barely a week when I met Marcus. He’s saved my skin several times already and now I’m realizing you’ve done the same thing.”

“Sorry,” Merlin rasped automatically. Hiding his magic for so long had done a number on his mental health. The first reaction to being discovered was fear and the worry of rejection. This was not how he imagined Arthur finding out.

“Oi, I think you might want to tell him it’s alright, he’s lookin’ a little pale,” the man named Randy pointed out as he walked closer and nudged Arthur in the arm.

“What? But he’s lied to me!” Arthur answered in defense. “For years!”

Merlin wanted to say something but he was having a bit of a panic attack. They were all talking about him like he wasn’t even there.

“And what else would he do? You said it yourself Arty, magic users get burned at the stake where you come from.”

Arthur deflated somewhat at that comment. Merlin watched and prayed Arthur would forgive him for lying. It wasn’t like he’d done it out of malice.

“It does fit with all the stories you’ve told us,” Marcus continued on as he cut up a few items for the stew he was making. “Merlin seems like he’s been your magic guardian since you two met.”

Merlin couldn’t help but yelp when Arthur suddenly plopped down right next to him on the grass. “You are to tell me everything, and I mean everything when we have a moment alone.”

Sorry was all Merlin could manage as he sat looking at the fire. He didn’t even want to know what came next. Arthur was clearly furious and Merlin didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now.

“He’s still looking a little peaky there, you might wanna tell him he’s not gonna die by your hand,” Randy chimed in.

“You wouldn’t have them burn me would you?” Merlin asked in a rush. Dying by another’s hand would count as Arthur not doing it.  

Arthur groaned and roughly ran his fingers through his beard, “Merlin, I won’t hurt you, no one will. You do realize I’ve spent the last two months hanging out with Marcus and that’s changed my opinion on some things. I’m just fucking pissed that you lied to me so let me deal with that for now okay? ”

The night progressed slowly after that. Merlin didn’t move from his spot but neither did Arthur. They sat nearly touching shoulders and ate in silence. Randy and Marcus went about preparing camp but remained quiet. After what felt like an hour Arthur leaned close and grabbed Merlin’s arm.

“Did you not trust me?” he asked with a pained expression.

Merlin couldn’t shake his head fast enough, “No! it’s not that, I mean I did wonder what you’d do to me if you found out, considering how the king feels about magic but I do trust you, I swear it!”

“Then why keep it from me?”

“I was scared, it’s not like I could go back in time to undo things if it didn’t work out. Every time I wanted to tell you, something would happen and you’d hate magic even more.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur murmured. The prince sighed heavily and let go, letting his hand drop to the ground.

Nothing more was said after that, Merlin simply watched the flames lick at the wood in the fire. Marcus broke the quiet some time later announcing that they should all get some rest. Merlin nodded and went to crawl over to his bedroll, his being the only one out in the elements and not under a small tent.

A hand on his elbow stopped him. “Come on, you can share my tent, the extra body heat will do you good.”

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked of Arthur as he waited for confirmation.

Arthur’s answer was to tug him over to the tent and push his shoulders through the flap. The bedroll was tossed in next and Merlin went about setting it up. The space was small and neither of them would have room to do much else but lie directly next to each other.

It took several, long awkward minutes before they were able to situate. There was no light and Merlin could only feel the puffs of breaths coming from Arthur. He was too upset to sleep despite his tiredness. What if things didn’t go back to the way they were? Merlin didn’t think he could live life on edge like this; it was no different than hiding his magic. He was always in the wrong it seemed.

“If you don’t sleep Merlin, you’ll regret it in the morning,” Arthur huffed quietly.

“I can’t,” Merlin whispered back.

“Still scared of what I think of your magic?”

“Yes,” Merlin offered quickly.

“What exactly are you worried about?”

“I don’t want things to change between us.”

Arthur sighed deeply before he responded, “They’ve already changed Merlin that was inevitable.”

“Oh, -- what will happen to me when we go back?”

“You’d willingly go back with me knowing the laws of Camelot?” Arthur asked.

“You were, are, my friend Arthur. I have faith that you’ll become a great king in the future and I want to do my part in helping you achieve that goal.”

“With magic, I suppose?”

“With whatever it takes, magic, being there for you, anything you need.”

Merlin, why do you insist upon being so damned kind hearted!” Arthur exclaimed in a forced whisper.

“I just told you, clotpole.” Merlin was unprepared for the arm that flew out and smacked his ribs. Gasping at the sting he tried to figure out if Arthur was still mad at him or not.

“Cheeky bugger, listen, we are still talking later about all of this, but for now you need to rest. I can’t have my manservant falling over on our next quest.”

“Of course my lord,” Merlin offered with just a hint of sarcasm, he didn’t want to push his luck.

Arthur snorted in response, perhaps his tactics were working. “Idiot, go to sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

Closing his eyes Merlin hoped his brain would slow down enough to actually accomplish something akin to sleep. “Sorry for lying, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he offered humbly in one last effort to make Arthur understand his feelings.

“Merlin, I forgive you, but seriously go to fucking sleep,” Arthur ordered with another light shove to his ribs.

Upon order of his future king Merlin temporarily let go of his worries and drifted off.

--

“Arty – Arthur?”

Taking a deep breath Arthur lifted his head to see who had called his name. Most likely Marcus since he was the only one that called him Arty. “S’everything okay?” he asked once he spotted the other man peering in through the tent flap.

“That’s what I was going to ask you, it’s nearly midday and you both are still asleep.”

Turning to check on Merlin, Arthur noted that he was still in a deep slumber. He’d looked exhausted the night before it was no wonder Merlin was sleeping so well now. Suddenly the thought came to Arthur that Merlin might be ill. Reaching out he felt Merlin’s forehead, the temperature seemed normal.

“Sorry for being late, I’ll get him up and we’ll get going.”

Marcus held up his hand and shook his head, “No need, he clearly needed to recoup. Let him rest we can take today to prepare for the mission.”

Arthur agreed and lay back down.  He could hear Marcus’ footsteps outside but it was peaceful otherwise. Rolling over slightly Arthur took the time to really check on Merlin. The young man had turned over during the night and was asleep on his stomach. The journey Merlin had taken so far had tanned his pale skin, it also added a few wrinkles here there, but that may have been stress induced.

Wondering whether Merlin’s magic would change things for the worse, Arthur began to think of all the times he’d made it out of a situation that should have killed him. After a few minutes he had to stop, it was alarming how often Merlin had been there, a seemingly innocent bystander, when he was nothing of the like.

After spending two months with Marcus, Arthur’s views on magic had changed.  They’d been thrown together at the right moment and Arthur had been unable to hate the man. He was a good person, just like Merlin. The first few weeks were rough trying to adapt to trusting in someone with magic but Arthur had persevered.  Now it seemed fate had simply prepared him for Merlin’s reality. One with magic.

Unsure of how he would have reacted back home Arthur hoped he would have been open minded, but that wasn’t a given. Uther’s hatred of anything magic had permeated his very being from a young age. That sort of conditioning was hard to shake.  

“Shit! Oh, it’s just you,” Merlin exclaimed suddenly.

Arthur had flinched when Merlin awoke but his friend hadn’t commented on it yet. Good, maybe he didn’t see.  “Yes, its me, who did you think it would be?”

Merlin yawned and stretched, almost like a cat, before rolling over on his back. “I wasn’t sure; I just saw the fuzzy beard and forgot it was you.”

“I’m not a barbarian Merlin, no need to excite yourself.”

“More like Neanderthal,” Merlin muttered around another yawn.

“What?! Merlin!” Arthur shouted before dragging the groggy man closer and giving him a noogie. Merlin shouted in surprise but could only squirm to get away, Arthur was stronger. “You were saying?”

“I yield!” Merlin yelled a second later.

The moment Arthur released his hold Merlin bolted up and crawled out of the tent, apparently he was awake now. Smirking at how he missed picking on his manservant, Arthur followed him out into the open air. Might as well get the day started. They had an attack to plan.

--

Merlin fell to the ground panting heavily, he was so tired. Having gone off in search of Arthur months earlier, Merlin had never dreamed he’d be able to stand by his prince’s side and use magic openly. Well, he wasn’t currently standing at the moment; he was working on not passing out. Hands on his shoulder forced Merlin to look up. Arthur was there in his line of vision grinning like a loon.

“We did it, we won Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed.

Happy that Arthur was safe and seemingly not upset at seeing Merlin use a massive amount of magic, he toppled over in the grass and smiled.

“Hey, don’t pass out; are you going to pass out? Shit, Merlin are you alright?” Arthur asked in a panic.

“M’fine, let me rest, we just took down an entire army of men.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you or your magic.”

Relief flooded over Merlin, Arthur truly accepted him, magic and all. Marcus’ voice sounded off in the distance, he sounded happy as well. Arthur had extended his trip away from home in order to help Marcus rid his village of invaders. The other sorcerer had seen in Arthur what Merlin always knew was there, a great leader and good man.

Despite Marcus being a magic user Arthur had looked past his feelings on the matter and offered to help. Merlin’s heart swelled in pride at the thought. Camelot would have a great and gracious king when the time came.  Letting his eyes slip closed Merlin let the warmth of the sun touch his skin. The next task was the journey home. It was time.

--

“I still don’t see why you haven’t let me shave that thing off your face yet,” Merlin sighed as they rode along towards Camelot. “You let me trim your hair when we arrived a week ago, why wait on this?”

“I think it’s a good disguise don’t you? No one seems to know who I am,” Arthur answered smirking. “Besides, I didn’t want to bother until we were closer to home. It’s hard enough to keep things trimmed and maintained with the proper supplies, let alone in the middle of the woods.”

“I can use my magic Arthur; its how I keep my stubble in check.”

“Yes, yes, but you have a baby face, it’s understandable that you need to use such measures.”  

“Excuse me? I have a what?”

“You heard me, a baby face, soft and --.” Arthur stopped talking when Merlin’s eyes glowed gold and he felt a soft brush of air to his face. “What did you do?” he demanded looking down only to see his blond whiskers scattered across his lap. “Merlin!”

Ripping his gloves off Arthur reached up and still felt his beard in some places. Confused as to what Merlin had done he spurred his horse forward to catch up. “What did you do to me?”

“Nothing terrible sire, I simply cleaned up your beard. I think the new look is quite dashing.”

Feeling his face one more, Arthur could trace the hair along his jaw line, up the sides of his mouth, and across his upper lip. “Did you give me a goatee?”

“Sort of, it’s closer to how Gwaine wears his but I’ve bothered to make yours look kingly.”

“You better not be teasing me Merlin.”

“Never sire, don’t forget I have to look at you too, is there any harm in making the view appealing?”

“Hey! You said my beard looked good!”

“It did, but this is better,” Merlin laughed before sticking out his tongue and spurring his horse onward.

Arthur couldn’t exactly catch Merlin, it didn’t matter they were nearly home.  He’d have enough time to torment his servant later. For now Arthur was content to return to a normal routine. The only thing left to figure out was whether or not to keep his beard.

[enby-hawke]

Chapter 6 Summary: Malcolm and Leandra finally have the night to themselves or do they.

Warnings: Racism, Mageism, Gamlen’s an asshole, and songs

Word Count:10,037

A03:

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malcolm was nervous, gut-nervous, like he’d just come from a Fade jump and his stomach was still doing all the roller coaster flips, threatening to empty out his hard-earned dinner. It didn’t help that the mountains of half-eaten food piled in the dumpsters were starting to turn along with the pungent aroma of the fish stew that gave the alley a rather wet smell. He couldn’t help but feel that this was a terrible place to meet Leandra. This held none of the grandeur of the Palace, the walls defaced with graffiti that had yet to be painted over. And since no one important usually came back here, they wouldn’t bother to for a while. The dumpsters were leaking what Malcolm hoped was just leftover soup, still dripping and draining down the gutter into the sewers below. Hardly romantic.

As the minutes dragged on he made wet tracks into haphazard circles as he found new anxieties that weren’t there before, seeds of doubt cracking into his confidence. What if he was not worthy of her? It wasn’t that he was an elf, though that difference did come to the forefront of his mind often, but what could he possibly offer her to sway her from the lover that already claimed her. He was a mage in the Circle, which meant he had no means to provide for her. He couldn’t compete with the wealth of a billionaire, couldn’t take her to the finest restaurants in Kirkwall to sample cuisines from far lands, couldn’t woo her with expensive gifts like bouquets or beautiful jewelry. He couldn’t even afford the suit the Circle loaned him. Would this night be all he had? Would she have her fun with him and go back to her wealthy fiance, and live her charmed life, and leave him with a broken heart?

And she would break him. He could feel it. He would spend the rest of his days aching for a taste of her lips. His hand clenched and unclenched, feeling so empty without her hand. He clenched it once more and punched the wall, the pain of the brick against his knuckles enough to shock him back to his senses. “You are not a coward!” he growled at himself.

But the seed of doubt rooted deeper. What if this is all she wants from him? A good time. A new experience. What if she didn’t see him as a man willing to love her but some plaything?

The door opened behind him and Malcolm wouldn’t say he jumped, but his feet definitely left the pavement. He straightened himself out to hear the alley suddenly echoing with a bounding argument broiling between Leandra and another man who looked similar to her in the way their scowls matched, but his eyes were not starry black but a shocking blue against his tawny beige skin.

“I’m telling you this is a bad idea. Now let’s go home before we’re caught.”

Leandra snarled, her face more akin to a warrior than a prim noblewoman. “Oh, please, you’re lecturing me?” she snapped her hand back from his muscled grip. “I thought you’d be more supportive considering all the times I’ve covered for you and Mara.”

Another woman in a red dress the same color as the man’s suit followed close behind, trying to keep the two of them apart, but it wasn’t working. Her cat eyes were pulled in a glare as she stayed close to Leandra’s heel. “Gamlen, for Maker’s sake give it a rest.”

Malcolm didn’t know who this man was to Leandra, but he didn’t like how handsy he was being, jerking her arm this way and that in forceful attempts to get her to follow, and Malcolm’s temper quickly snapped as he raced forward to defend Leandra.

“Hey, what’s your problem, asshole?” He balled his fists, rolling up his sleeves as he glowered up to the taller man, knowing he couldn’t use magic but he reckoned he could bet his Ferelden pride he could throw a better punch than a prissy Kirkwall nobleman.

The man looked down at the shorter elf’s stature and snorted, utterly unimpressed as if a kid had challenged him. “Run off, rabbit, this doesn’t concern you.”

Malcolm snarled ready to swing but Leandra instinctively put herself as a shield between the two men, “Malcolm, wait!”

Malcolm pulled himself back from the momentum, almost tripping over himself as he tried to veer direction. He was dazed in that moment, off-balance first by the sudden realization that this was the very first time she had ever said his name. He was so puzzled about how she even managed to remember it with dream fog he almost didn’t realize Carver had just walked through the door and had witnessed most of the exchange.

Carver walked up to Malcolm and pulled him back with force so Leandra, the man and he were now a good distance apart. “What are you doing starting fights?”

“Did I start a fight?” Malcolm shook himself back to reality, a new glare settling at the man who was holding Leandra’s wrist hostage. “Or did he?”

“Yeah, Gamlen, what’s your fucking problem?” the woman marched up beside Leandra as if to protect her.

Malcolm was about to say something else when Carver slapped the back of Malcolm’s head, not hard enough to hurt but the metal of his gauntlet still made a satisfying thwack. “Use your head. This is not some Circle brawl where you’ll get detention. Assaulting a nobleman has real consequences, Malcolm.”

The pushy man made a satisfied smirk at being defended, before it quickly dropped. “Wait, this is Malcolm?”

Malcolm’s ears twitched, not liking the accusatory way he used his name.

Leandra looked at the man as if she was pleading him not to say whatever was about to come out but still he just gawked at Leandra as he pointed at Malcolm with the force of a smack. “Are you kidding me? He’s an elf!? Are you trying to kill Mom and Dad?”

And there it was, the metaphorical elephant in the room that had plagued Malcolm’s thoughts had been spoken aloud and was staring him in the face. So this man was her brother. How unfortunate. He could see the resemblance now in the shape of their eyes and flat of their noses, and Malcolm suddenly felt self-conscious. Already her family disapproved of him, and he didn’t realize how badly he wanted their approval until now, but he knew how ridiculous it was to even have the expectation. He knew the raw ugly truth about how people would look at their relationship, but he wasn’t looking at her brother’s grimace, but at Leandra.

Her shoulders snapped back as her fury exploded like cannon. “When did you ever care what Mom and Dad think!?”

The other woman also didn’t look pleased with Gamlen’s confession. “Did you forget my grandfather is an elf?”

“Mara…” Gamlen sputtered. “It’s not the same. That’s your grandfather. You’re practically human.”

Mara’s smile turned chilly as she cocked her head at the statement, squinting her eyes. “Am I?”

The man sputtered again as Malcolm crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels thoroughly enjoying himself now. The man seemed to understand that this was the wrong answer but from the look of his face everyone could tell he was confused about why. “I mean…it’s not only that. He’s a mage, too.”

“And we have family that are mages,” Leandra countered.

His head was turtling into his shoulders as the two women stared him down with equally withering glares, but still Gamlen pleaded at them to listen. “Think this through, Leandra. You’re practically married. Do I have to remind you tonight was literally your Betrothal Ball. Think of how selfish you’re being.”

Leandra was tiny for a human woman but she had the ferocity of a warrior when she was angry, and it spilled out in a gushing tsunami at the accusation of being selfish. She shoved the other man off of her. “I supported you!” she cried and then shoved again, “had your back against mom and dad at every turn, and now I’m supposed to self-sacrifice and play good child so you can do whatever you want?” Gamlen balked at every shove, not expecting Leandra to fight back so fiercely, and he held her wrists as she attempted to hit him in the face but she was much too short to get a good swing so she started jabbing her heels into his legs. “When is it my turn? When do I get to be happy?”

Malcolm covered his mouth in amusement as the tiny woman beat back her brother with shorthanded swipes looking oddly like a housecat trying to beat back a confused crocodile. Her temper was beautiful, like the oncoming rage of a storm, leaving him in awe of her.

At the sound of Malcolm’s laughter she dropped her shoulders suddenly looking sheepish.

“Oh don’t stop on my account,” Malcolm grinned at her. “I’m enjoying the show.”

She looked at Malcolm with wide eyes suddenly uncertain and shy and she tucked a loose strand of hair that had come undone behind her ear, trying to look prim again. 

Malcolm was disappointed. He would have liked to see at least one more kick.

“I like Malcolm,” she announced, not quite able to meet Malcolm’s gaze though her voice remained steady. 

Malcolm blinked a couple of times unsure he had heard right, but then she marched up to Malcolm and picked up his freckled hand like it was the most precious thing in the world. “I want to explore what that this means,” then she glared back at her brother over her shoulder. “So can you kindly butt out?”

Malcolm didn’t mean for a laugh to escape. Maybe he was relieved to hear her say that. Maybe it was because that furious expression didn’t quite match her soft personality. And then her anger softened into a shy smile when he squeezed her hand in silent thanks, her whole demeanor suddenly demure again.

Malcolm could see the man confused, as if he didn’t expect her to take such a strong stand.

Leandra ignored her brother, her attention only on Malcolm. “I’m so sorry. I hope my idiot brother didn’t spoil our night.”

The smile that was already on his lips pulled wider. Our night.

She then glared at her brother. “He won’t join us.”

“Fine!” Gamlen barked. He snapped his fingers. “Mara, we’re leaving.”

Mara snorted. “You sure? Cause I think I’m going with Leandra, tonight.”

Gamlen narrowed his eyes, his voice taking on an edge of possessiveness. “Mara, we’re publicly together now. I know we don’t always agree but you’re supposed to be on my side, not Leandra’s.”

Mara laughed which seemed to confuse Gamlen and she took Leandra’s other arm and wrapped herself around her. “You’re just my boyfriend. Leandra’s my best friend. Get the hierarchy?”

Leandra looked utterly disappointed in Gamlen. “Need a shovel for the hole you’re digging?”

This time Carver joined Malcolm’s laughter. He had been standing silent the whole time, making sure Malcolm’s temper didn’t get away with him again, and he didn’t bother to hide his amusement as he met Malcolm’s gaze. “She’s a keeper,” Carver nodded approvingly, earning a pleased but flustered blush from Leandra.

Gamlen turned his scrutiny on Carver. “Aren’t you a templar? What are you doing letting this mage off his leash?”

Malcolm bristled at that, but Carver just placed a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, a squeeze reminding him to behave. Still, it was a friendly enough gesture that Gamlen seemed uneasy by it, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of this dynamic. “It may be a long leash, but believe me, there’s still a leash.”

Malcolm grunted at that, hating how true his words were, but Carver continued, “I know you have your doubts about mages, and I know fully the dangers that magic can bring, but Malcolm has opened my eyes many times to the wonders magic can bring.” He let his hand drop from Malcolm’s shoulder but didn’t lower his proud gaze. “He is a good man, a better man than many who serve under me and I’m proud to call him a friend.”

He had never heard Carver talk about him in such a way so to hear him come to his defense made him swallow a lump that suddenly crept up his throat like a frog, but it was apparent that Carver’s pretty words were not swaying Gamlen, though he looked like he was losing some of the fight out of him once he realized that he had no ally to turn to. So he resulted in sulking, hunching his shoulders and jutting out his lip which made him look like a mannish baby. “This is still a bad idea.”

Leandra nodded. “Noted. And ignored.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” Gamlen argued. “If only because someone needs to watch out for you tonight. He’s clearly got you under some sort of spell.”

Malcolm’s shoulders raised at the accusation. Gamlen was glaring at their intertwined hands with a sneer he couldn’t contain like she was touching a dirty animal. He was suddenly overcome with the overwhelming feeling like he would taint Leandra. Stories about how mages seduced their lovers by altering their minds with blood magic or how elven men tricked and stole the innocence of naive human women recounted in his head and though he thought he would have some sort of reply to that he found the words caught in his throat. Instead he held back a tremble as he struggled not to act on his temper and punch the man senseless, only to prove that he didn’t need a spell to rub that sneer off his face. But then even that was a trap, for it would only prove that he was uncivilized as the humans claimed elves to be even if humans never seemed to show much civilization.

There was no way he’d last the night.

Leandra glared. “As if! You’re being a real ass.”

“Well, how are you going to stop me?” the man’s voice took on a childish challenging tone as he dug in his heels.

Leandra groaned, knowing her stubborn brother wouldn’t take no for an answer. What brought on this bought of overbearing protectiveness she didn’t know, but she wanted to spend the night getting to know Malcolm, not bickering with her little brother.

“Fine, but if you say anymore idiotic things to Malcolm I won’t hesitate to knee you in the balls,” she huffed as she started dragging Malcolm and Mara around her annoying brother. “And you're taking your own cab!” she added with a snap.

They started marching out of the alleyway and out into the street where they found that the place was swarming with Guard and Templar cars in flashing red white and blue lights bathing the streets in headlights so that they all seemed exposed and Leandra froze at the thought of suddenly being caught and marched back to her parents.

“Follow me,” Carver spoke from behind them, and then marched past them as if there was nothing amiss about what they were doing.

Leandra dropped Malcolm’s hand and put some distance between them at the sight of the crowd that clearly saw them. Malcolm’s stomach dropped in disappointment. Though he knew an elf and a human holding hands would only invite more stares it didn’t keep his heart from aching, wishing just for a moment that he was human so that she wouldn’t let go.

The templars and guards glided around them without notice all seeming to have their own agendas and orders to carry out. There were news vans swarming the front of the Palace trying to make sense of what was happening and they took great care not to get in their line of sight.

Malcolm had a sinking feeling as he followed Carver, thinking that he’d return to his duties and let him have some peace with Leandra. Well, he and Leandra’s friend, who invited herself, but he knew the hierarchy. As they approached an armored vehicle with reinforced wheels and a red Chantry sun impaled a sword, the symbol of the templars, Malcolm realized another was joining the night. It seemed his leash was shorter than he thought, tonight.

Carver opened the door gesturing for the ladies to go in with a respectful bow.

Mara’s eyes gleamed in mischief as she inspected the back of the templar’s car, the armored barriers seeming more fit to housing dangerous apostates than escorting Kirkwall nobility. “Are we in trouble, Officer?”

Carver’s eyes crinkled in a smile but his face remained neutral. “Simply making sure you all get home safely.”

Mara bounced into the backseat. “This standard?”

“Perfectly,” Carver allowed a small smile.

Leandra, too jittery with all the people about quickly ducked behind Mara without a word, grateful to be out of sight.

Carver blocked Gamlen’s push forward so Malcolm could snag the seat next to Leandra and shut the door behind him.

Gamlen scowled, trying to look intimidating but Carver had a few inches in him and was in full armor and gear and didn’t bother to even look in Gamlen’s direction as he got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.

Gamlen tried to get into the passenger’s seat but he found that it had been locked. Gamlen pounded on the tinted window demanding to be let in.

Carver rolled down the window only enough so Gamlen could hear him say, “I thought the lady told you to get your own cab.”

Gamlen’s face went slack with shock, his blue eyes glassy as he was not able to process what was happening. He could hear Mara and Gamlen’s laughter peeling out from the window, mocking him.

Even Leandra barked out a short laugh before she clapped a hand over her mouth, burning in shame. “That is not necessary, Lord Carver.”

But Carver was already pulling off from the sidewalk, a shellshocked Gamlen watching as they left him at the curb.

There was a satisfied smirk on his lips that no one else could see. “The silence might give him some time to reflect on what he said.”

But it seemed like silence wasn’t what Gamlen wanted. Mara’s phone started to ring, Gamlen’s ringtone, which was a high stringed addictive pop song that filled the cabin.

“With a taste of your lips I’m on a ride.”

Mara sighed raggedly knowing the tantrum that was sure to come. She clicked the button to answer, cutting the music and with a curt voice she said, “I’m not interested in anything but an apology.”

“Apology!?” his voice boomed loud enough from the speaker. “You should apologize. You ditched me and laughed!”

“That’s right,” Mara confirmed in a sing-song voice. “You’re being a hypocrite.”

“Mara-”

But she quickly cut him off with a snarl that was unlike her, “I’m turning off my phone. Maybe if I’m in a good mood I’ll text you where we’re at.”

Then she cut off the rest of his tirade by ending the call and did just that.

She then threw her head back in her seat, her face reddening as she muttered a string of curses under her breath.

Leandra looked at her friend feeling torn. On one hand she couldn’t excuse her brother but she felt her heart ache at what she thought might be the end of their relationship. She knew her brother was better than this and she hoped that somehow he’d find a way to fix this. Still she felt shame like somehow it was her fault the whole wonderful night had been left uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” she said guiltily.

She found Malcolm touching her hand, unsure if the gesture was welcome, but just his hand being close made her fingers wrap around them to keep him there, hoping Malcolm didn’t think less of her. 

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve heard. They get more creative in the Circle,” he said it like a joke, but there was tenseness in the admission.

Leandra didn’t like the thought of that. She knew what her brother said was ugly, and yet to know it was not the worst experience he’d had made her squeeze his hand, the words to comfort him failing her.

“So I’m curious,” Mara’s voice cut between them. She leaned forward so Carver could hear her better through the bars that separated them. “How does a templar and a mage get so chummy?” There was mischief in her curiosity and Malcolm couldn’t help but feel like Mara was scrutinizing him, judging his every move, but unlike Gamlen, she seemed to have not come to a conclusion yet.

“Carver’s not a prick,” Malcolm explained which brought delighted laughter from Carver, a soothing sound like water bubbling over a brook.

“It’s easy to be friends with Malcolm, as long as you can handle some honesty,” Carver echoed back.

“Have you been friends for a long time?” Leandra asked.

“I watched him grow up,” Carver answered as he wove through the streets of Hightown. “He’s always been a bit of a scamp.”

Mara’s eyes lit up. “Ooooh then you’re the one to ask for all the juicy details.”

Malcolm suddenly felt uneasy, not sure exactly what Carver would share.

“That’s true,” Carver admitted freely. “I do have a few stories, but I’ll let you get to know him yourself. I plan to mostly stay out of the way tonight and let you all enjoy yourselves.”

Malcolm found himself sighing in relief. Carver was a true friend.

Mara started leaning on Leandra as she gazed at Malcolm, and he felt strangely like she was a cat and he was her new toy. “So who are you Dream Guy?”

Malcolm found the nickname brought a smile to his lips, especially with the way Leandra was reddening.

“Just an elf from Ferelden,” Malcolm summarized. “Not anyone special.”

“Ferelden?” Leandra asked. “You’re far from home.”

Malcolm nodded grimly. The homesickness burrowed in his gut. The food at the ball was delicious, but he found he missed his mother’s cooking, lechon at Satinalia, pancet at celebrations, adobo, dinuguan, even lumpia. Being a lone elven Ferelden in a Marcher state that kissed Orlais ass with the rest of the world was terribly isolating. It almost seemed fitting that it was an Orlesian that claimed Leandra. They claimed everything Malcolm knew.

Leandra seemed keen to know more. “What about your mom and dad?”

“My mom’s might be somewhere in Ferelden. I haven’t seen her since I was taken by the templars when I was 8.” Admitting this so freely felt odd to Malcolm. They weren’t exactly secrets but he kept his memories close to his heart, but Leandra wanted to know. “I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

Leandra could sense there was more to the story. Malcolm’s eyes were far away, watching the lights of Hightown’s neon bathing his dark skin in a heavenly glow.

“You don’t know what happened to her?”

“I mean when I was in Ferelden’s Circle I got a letter or two, but…” Malcolm sucked in a breath not admitting how the templars took those, too. “Nothing since Kirkwall.”

Leandra stroked his thumb with hers. “What about your father?”

At the mention of his father Malcolm’s whole body went rigid and his breathing got shallow. “Better off forgotten,” he muttered as he stared dully at the window.

The high cityscapes of Hightown receded into the bridge that was thankfully not filled with the usual traffic at midnight. Malcolm’s eyes were far away as his eyes passed over the neon marketing sign and art and competing billboards that seemed to permeate every corner. Kirkwall was a loud city, even at night, but the city seemed to be holding its breath. The high-tech architecture that was just on the other side of the bridge seemed to just die off into the archaic city of Lowtown. There were still ads and graffiti and neon signs on every street, but Kirkwall elite had not seen a purpose of modernizing most of Lowtown, except for the subway system that most of the inhabitants used for travel, so that the sounds of trains running through tracks was a constant echo across the stone. The snaking networks wound through the city but stopped at the bridge that connected Hightown. Lowtown only had so many major streets, the main one connecting to the Lowtown market where shops were piled on top of each other like shoeboxes, mimicking the cityscapes of Hightown but with the grace of a graffiti-filled dumpster. The city cleaners didn’t extend to Lowtown so debris covered the street, the car dipping into the cracks of the concrete and swerving to avoid potholes.

Leandra wanted to know him, but it seemed that poking at him only brought up painful memories, and it was already a painful night. She had no idea how she could even fathom what he went through. He was always carefree and smiling, but now he looked brittle, like he would break if she pressed him too far.

So she tried to change gears. “I have family in the Circle.”

“Oh?” That made Malcolm perk up, curiosity in his golden eyes, and his shoulders relaxed as he realized the interrogation was over.

“A niece in Ostwick, a nephew in Markham, and another nephew in Kirkwall.”

Malcolm seemed much happier to continue this conversation. “What a small world,” he hummed in amusement. “Well tell me about the one in Kirkwall. I might have met him already.”

Leandra was pleased that he wanted to know her family. “His name’s Isaac. He only came to the Circle last year around spring.”

Malcolm placed his free hand on his chin as his eyes reached up into his skull as he tried to summon a face. “Isaac…Isaac…” The name sounded familiar. “Wait does he like to make a lot of truck noises?”

“Yes!” Leandra jumped in her seat in excitement and then blushed when Mara snickered.

Malcolm smiled as he recalled the little guy, suddenly seeing the family resemblance in their eyes. He had life just like Leandra did. “We call him Lil’ Garbage Man. He’s the funniest dude.”

Leandra shook her head though a smile was on her face thinking of how horrified her Mother would be at the nickname.

“You call my nephew Lil’ Garbage Man? Why?”

“Cause he makes garbage truck noises when he busses people’s trays. Dude seems to have a blast doing it.”

Leandra laughed imagining the look on her parent’s face if they had heard that. “My nephew is bussing people’s trays?”

“Isaac is helpful and compassionate. He might be a little odd to people but he has a very good heart,” Carver’s voice came from the bars. “In fact, if you would like to see him, I think I may be able to arrange that.”

Leandra’s eyes widened pouncing on the chance. “Can you? I haven’t seen him since he was taken.”

“I’ll add you to the allowed visitors list in Isaac’s file. It shouldn’t be a problem,” Carver’s voice was steady and comforting, like a sturdy oak giving shade. “You’ll still need to come after Mass. There’s no way around that.”

Leandra felt positively giddy. She had tried to get on the visitor’s list before but Chantry policy only allowed immediate family members. The bastard father who abandoned him had more rights to see Isaac than she did, and she had given up on that cause for the moment but to just be offered as a gift was more than she had words for. She found grateful tears prick her eyes. “Bless you, Lord Carver.”

Carver chuckled. “I think at this point you may just call me Carver. At least in private.”

Leandra wiped her eyes before the tears could fall. “Do you think I can smuggle in a gift?”

Carver hummed on his answer noncommittally. “Toys will be taken if he’s not careful to hide them.” But he didn’t say no.

Leandra considered this as she brainstormed what she could bring. Nothing too big. It had to fit in her purse.

Before they knew it Carver pulled up to what looked like a ratty old bar. It was originally called The Caged Canary, but half the light bulbs were burnt out so it spelled Cage Cry with the ‘The’ blinking in and out.

Malcolm chuckled. “Here?” he asked Carver.

“It’s private and she liked your singing,” Carver replied. Malcolm could hear the smirk in his voice.

Leandra looked at the bar that had so many flyers plastered on the wall it looked like a Chantry board. There was graffiti layered upon layer, sometimes over the flyers, some beautiful mosaics and art pieces of colors. Birds behind bars seemed to be a theme throughout the patterns. It was a chaotic sort of art, the kind that would make her parents sneer, but Leandra found it beautiful, the many hands working together to make something so utterly unique, like a thousand memories cased in time speaking at once. “What is this place?” she found herself asking Malcolm as Mara started shuffling out of the car.

“A karaoke bar,” Malcolm said nonchalantly as he watched Leandra’s face which quickly drained of color.

She froze in the car as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave. “Oh, no, I’m better at playing the lute than singing,” Leandra blubbered, suddenly mortified at the thought of making a fool of herself in public.

Malcolm grinned. “Karaoke is not about sounding good, it’s about having fun.”

“Well, no one’s going to have fun once they hear me sing,” Leandra protested.

Mara peeked in the car from the other side, ganging up on her with Malcolm with a conspiratorial grin. “You should do more things you’re not good at, my lady. It will be good for you.”

Leandra pouted as Malcolm offered his hand to help her out of the car. She reluctantly took it, knowing once she did there was no going back.

Carver started pulling out his phone as he approached the group. “The address is 369 Copper Avenue if you would like to invite your brother,” he looked at Leandra as he said this and she was already pulling out her phone to text the details.

Then Carver’s eyes slid to Malcolm as he fished out his wallet and pulled out a sovereign bill and handed it to him.

Malcolm resented being handed money like a kid but it wasn’t like he was allowed to have money like a normal person. That didn’t stop him from finding his ways, but he hadn’t expected to go on a date tonight and didn’t bring anything with him. So he took the bill feeling like a teenager being chaperoned on his first date.

“I need to make a phone call. You can go ahead and order a round of drinks with the booth.”

Maker, at least he could drink. “You going to join us?” He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for.

But Carver said, “I have some reports to catch up on but you have fun.” Then Carver walked off into a corner to take his call in private.

Malcolm led Mara and Leandra into the bar which was smaller than anticipated. There was a TV with the news reporting on the incident on the Viscount’s Palace, speculating attacks and calling it the worst haunting of the new century. The bartender who was a pallid man with graying hair raised an eyebrow at Malcolm’s fine suit and the ladies’ gowns which were much richer than the sticky floors and peeling dull brown faded wallpaper that decorated the environment. 

Malcolm marched up to the bartender with confidence as the ladies inspected the furniture that had looked like it hadn’t been changed out since the place was built.  The grout of the floor was uneven and chalky. 

Malcolm placed the bill on the cracking counter and said, “A room and all the drinks this can afford.”

Would this afford much? He didn’t exactly know the prices on things.

The bartender looked at the bill and took it without question, though he was curious about the party’s outfits he seemed more interested in their money. “Room 3,” He leaned his head to point to a dark cove where a line of rooms were waiting. “And for the drinks?”

He looked to Leandra, who looked to Mara who said, “Shots. Tequila. Vodka. I don’t care.”

“You got it,” the bartender chirped.  

Malcolm led them down the corridor, jealous of the way Mara openly leaned on Leandra’s arm. He could tell the two women must be close and he felt in some ways there was a bubble between him and them.

“Charming place,” Mara cooed as she looked at the posters of different singers lining the walls, flowing locks and colorful makeup and costumes crooning into microphones. “You bring all your dates here?”

Malcolm chuckled. “The only time I’ve ever gone here is with Carver or Charlie,” he said.

He opened the door to the room for them which was a cozy little setup with a boxy couch that wrapped around the room, a table in the middle with a thick booklet, and a screen with a few microphones.

“Boyfriend?” Mara prodded as she passed Malcolm, cat eyes gleaming.

“Brother,” Malcolm countered.

Leandra perked up, trying to corral some of Mara’s teasing with a question of her own. “You have a brother in the Circle?” Her voice was hopeful and she gathered her skirts and took a seat on the square couch fully listening. 

Mara plopping beside her to take a look through the booklet, the laminated pages cracking and yellowing.

“Not a blood brother,” Malcolm explained. “We just grew up together.”

 Leandra tried to mask the disappointment in her eyes.  

He took a seat, close but not too close. He glanced at her hand which was relaxed at her side, tempted to reach out and grab it, but with Gamlen in his head he just clenched his fist.

“So what would you sing?” Leandra leaned over as Mara flipped through the selection as she tried to find something that she recognized.

The bartender came in holding a large tray of liquid amber and set it on the table without a word.

“Well first we’d get drunk,” Malcolm said, suddenly needing the liquid courage and he grabbed one of the glasses and knocked it back, the burn welcome and warming him, soothing his frazzled nerves.

“Smart man,” Mara grinned as she grabbed two glasses and handed one to Leandra without thinking. “But you’re breaking the party rules. We’re supposed to cheer before we drink.”

Malcolm reached for another glass with a chuckle. “I can just grab another drink.”

Mara gleamed at Leandra holding up her glass as she said. “To Leandra. She’s the most badass woman I know.”

Malcolm grinned at Leandra’s fluster as he held up her glass to match Mara’s praise. “She definitely is.”

Leandra clinked glasses with them and knocked back the liquid before coughing which brought chuckles out of Mara and Malcolm. “That’s much stronger than wine.”

Suddenly Leandra’s phone rang and she looked at the cell phone to see that Senhel was calling. In confusion she answered it thinking it was an emergency.

“Leandra Gloriana Amell,” the voice of her mother shrieked on her phone. “Do you have your Father and me on ignore!?”

Leandra grumbled, she was just starting to have fun. “Mother,” she hicced. “I thought I told you I’m resting.”

“You are certainly not in your room!”

“I’m at Mara’s.”

“Don’t lie to me. I sent Sylvain to fetch you and you’re not there.”

Mara and Malcolm looked at each other as Leandra slunk into the couch, looking ragged and tired. “Fine,” she snapped, her voice sounding like a tight thread. “I’m out having a drink with Mara. Because it’s been a night. And I deserve it.”

“Leandra Amell-”

“Goodnight, Mother. I’m turning off my phone,” then she powered down her cell and threw it back in her purse with a huff.

“Another drink?” Malcolm offered.

Mara was beaming at Leandra. “After standing up to the wicked witch of Kirkwall let’s have three.”

So they did, clinking their glasses each time as they knocked it back in unison, the alcohol starting to make them feel giddy and loose.

Finally Mara picked up the microphone and waggled her eyebrows. “Alright we’re supposed to be singing, right?”

Leandra and Malcolm cheered, raising more glasses sharing a grin.

Mara plugged in the song and with an upbeat piano that was as spunky as she was. She wiggled her hips as she grooved with her microphone, getting into it, her face goofy and carefree for the first time that night. 

“Why men great til’ they gotta be great,” she sang loudly and proudly off-key.

“I just took a DNA test

Turns out

I’m a hundred percent 

That bitch

Even when I’m crying crazy

Yeah I got boy problems 

That’s the human in me

Bling! Bling! Then I solve ‘em

That’s the Goddess in me

Malcolm and Leandra danced in their seats and Mara gave them a show, belting her frustrations into the mic and only slightly tripping over the words with her drunken tongue. The mistakes only made her laugh which made everyone laugh. Then she grabbed the mic with both hands, her face twisting in anger as she kicked off her red strappy heels so they bounced against the couch and wall, belting out with flourish,

“You could have had a bad bitch

Non committal

Help you with your career

Just a little

You’re supposed to hold me dooown

But you’re holding me back

And that’s the soooound

Of me not calling you back.”

Soon Malcolm and Leandra were trying to sing along to the chorus, though Malcolm didn’t know the words to this one. Still, Mara was fun and it was nice to see Leandra with that beautiful smile. He thought her laugh was the most gorgeous sound in the world and he’d never tire of it. 

They were all thoroughly enjoying themselves so much that they didn’t notice that Gamlen had now perched himself at the door and listened to the man-hating song, a bouquet of what looked like store bought roses in one arm and a box of expensive fine truffles in the other, but Mara at one point noticed him, the song fading from her lips as the music continued and quickly wrapped up.

The silence was awkward and no one knew what to make of it. Everyone was staring at Gamlen but Gamlen was only staring at Mara. 

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I was an idiot.”

Mara huffed putting down the microphone with a thud, feedback shrieking through the speakers.

“No denying that but do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

Gamlen rushed forward and placed the gifts in Mara’s arms which she reluctantly accepted. “I was an ass. You told me that enough.”

Mara blew out air, ruffling her bangs. “But the comments you said about Malcolm said a lot about what you think about me.”

“I don’t-I would never,” he sputtered. “I just…Being an elf never seemed to matter to you before.”

Mara glared. “Of course it matters to me. I might not have the pointed ears, but Lolo is all I have left after the car accident. You know that.”

“Of course,” Gamlen said. “Of course it’s important. I just…” he blew out a ragged breath, his eyes flicking to Malcolm. “This is all so fast. Leandra just met him tonight.”

“But you heard Leandra, she likes him. This is not your decision to make.”

Gamlen looked like all the air had been taken out of him as he struggled to find an argument but failed.

Mara looked at Malcolm who seemed to have gone quiet at Gamlen’s presence. “I’m not the only one who deserves your apology.”

Gamlen looked conflicted as his eyes snapped to Malcolm who was knocking back another drink. Gamlen clenched his fists, as he looked over Malcolm, the disgust still clear in his eyes but from the look on Mara’s face she wouldn’t let this go.

Through clenched teeth he said. “Sorry,” but he spat the word out like a curse.

Malcolm discarded his glass and picked up another, feeling slightly drunk and still very very pissed off. “I don’t know, did I hear an apology?”

Leandra crossed her arms, matching Malcolm’s glare. “No, I don’t know that I did.”

Mara dropped Gamlen’s gifts on the table like she was dropping trash in a bin. “Care to try again?”

Gamlen’s eyes widened in fear and he swallowed his anger as he tried to suppress his glare at Malcolm. “Fine, fine. I’m really really sorry.”  

“For…” Malcolm drawled looking into his glass of amber liquid.

“For being an ass,” Gamlen chewed out.

“And…”

Gamlen narrowed his eyes, flicking to the other women for help but they simply waited expectantly for his answer. He wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to add. Apologizing wasn’t exactly something he did voluntarily.

He looked for Leandra to help but found her usual warm expression cold, but still she added, “And he won’t do it again.”

Gamlen bristled at that, seeming reluctant to actually say those words, but with Mara glaring at him, too, he repeated, “I won’t do it again.”

Malcolm grinned at that, all teeth. “Now that’s an apology.” Then he made a cheering motion at Gamlen and knocked back his drink.

Mara sniffed and sat down beside Leandra, satisfied but still seething. Gamlen followed her like a sad puppy and when he sat down next to her he tried to hold her hand but she snapped it back, still angry.

Malcolm sighed, feeling sloshed by now, but with Gamlen being so close he felt himself tensing like a stretched rubber band ready to snap. Still, getting the asshole to apologize was at least slightly satisfying even if Malcolm didn’t believe a word of it.

Leandra brushed his hand, bringing him out of his churning thoughts. Her eyes looked worried as she bit her lip, seeming unsure. “I’d love to hear you sing next.”

Malcolm did have a song in mind already, one that he heard long ago but didn’t have any meaning to him until meeting Leandra, but his eyes flickered to Gamlen who was sulking in the corner, unsure if singing it would bring more ire.

Leandra seemed to sense his hesitation and she was suddenly rambling as if she was nervous. “You don’t have to. I mean I can definitely try singing a song with Mara if you’re not feeling up to it.”

Mara leaned over to Leandra with a grin on her face. “What are we singing?”

Gamlen snorted. “You’re singing?”

Leandra glared. “Shut up! As if your voice is any better.”

“At least I know when to keep my mouth shut.”

“Not when it counts,” Malcolm’s unfiltered drunken thoughts blurted out which brought another laugh from Leandra and Mara and a scowl from Gamlen.

Malcolm smirk softened at Leandra’s laughter and he watched her with soft eyes.

She stopped when she noticed he was staring, his honey eyes drawing her in.

“I’d love to hear you sing.” Malcolm said in a voice so genuine she could only swallow.

Leandra dropped her eyes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean you’re going to have nightmares.”

“I don’t know,” Malcolm grinned. “Since meeting you it feels like I’ve been living a dream.”

She blushed deeply, her breath stuttering, a pleased smile forming on her lips as she choked on what she said. “I guess I’m drunk enough to sing.”

Mara cheered and Malcolm and her clinked glasses in a celebratory drink.

Leandra and Mara took the stage, their eyes on the screen as they huddled together.

A slow ballad filled the speakers, soft and sweet, just like Leandra was. Mara opened her mouth widely inhaling but as soon as the countdown signaled for them to start only Leandra’s voice sang out,

“Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help

Falling in love with you”

Leandra’s eyes flew in panic as she realized that Mara was not singing along but looking at her with a smirk as she was forced to either stop or continue. Her eyes flew to Malcolm’s like a moth to a flame, her voice trembling in uncertainty. 

She was not as terrible as she claimed, not a singer’s voice sure, but Malcolm found he could listen to her all night. He watched the rosy glow of her cheeks as her eyelashes fluttered, looking so uncertain and vulnerable.

“Like a river flows

Gently to the sea

Surely how it goes

Some things were meant to be.”

Malcolm hoped that was what she was telling him, and his gaze turned so intense she could not bear the scrutiny, her voice shaky and faltering but she finished the song to the end. Malcolm and Mara then burst into applause as Leandra shyly tucked hair behind her ear.

She glared at Mara but there was no anger in her voice. “Traitor.”

Mara shook her head in laughter as she took her seat beside Gamlen.

Leandra sauntered up to Malcolm, closer than ever. He could feel the warmth of her body and smell the alcohol on her breath. She playfully grabbed his arm and brought him to the stage and pushed a microphone in his hand. “Ok, now it’s your turn. Better make it good.”

Malcolm was nervous, but the way she was smiling at him he couldn’t help but smile back. “I aim to please, my lady.”

“Well, then do it,” she commanded cheekily. “Please me.”

Malcolm’s eyes darkened at this challenge. Her cheeks were so rosy he had to resist cupping them, her smile brilliant as she sat captively in attention. He felt shaky with nerves, his stomach doing that warm flutter. He plugged in the song, a soft drumbeat pulsed through the speakers as he gazed in her eyes, feeling like there was no one else in the room. His heart sped up, aching to have her. His honeyed voice crooned through the speakers, begging her to accept him.

“I wish we were both someone else

So you wouldn’t be somebody else’s

I don’t want to lie here by myself

Ain’t afraid to say I’m selfish.”

“Don’t wanna lie to you, Don’t wanna promise something

Knowin’ I can’t come through, toast over this discussion

More of ignoring the rules, too close and then we’re touching

Now we’re both confused.”

Leandra found herself rising to her feet, her heart feeling the same ache in the lyrics. His hand seemed to beckon her to him as he looked at her with a yearning that made her feel alive.

“Something in the way you smell

Something in the way touch me

Maybe it’s the way you wrap your arms around me

Makes me wanna lay you down, Tell you all the things we could be

Tell me that you need me now, even though it’s not allowed.”

Leandra couldn’t help herself if she wanted to. Malcolm’s honest words crooning at her had her grabbing his tie before he could reach the chorus again and she answered him with a hungry kiss. He tasted strawberries and alcohol and her taste coated his tongue until he was lapping it up greedy for every drop of her. Hungry. That was the only way that could be described when their lips met. His hands snaked up her back untangling her braid loose as she held him captive by his tie, pulling him closer by his curls as they devoured each other, the beat still pulsing in the background. They stumbled, trying to find steadiness as their mouths refused to part, tripping into the table and almost knocking each other over.

Mara hooted encouragingly at the kiss and she tried to get Gamlen to join her in a cheer but he looked like he was trying to look anywhere but at his sister. When Malcolm had backed her into a wall and it was clear that they wouldn’t stop, Gamlen finally snapped and said, “Leandra!”

Malcolm pulled away, surprised by Gamlen’s shout but she held onto his tie and stuck out her tongue like she was five. “Grow up, Gamlen. I’ve watched you and Mara dry hump since tenth grade.”

Malcolm barked out a laugh, lipstick smeared across his lips. Then Leandra pulled him in for another sweet kiss. “Sing me another,” she asked against his lips.

The night seemed to go much better, the laughs easier, and after Malcolm sang a few more songs they went back to rotating. Gamlen mostly sulked throughout the night, giving a tight-lipped glare as Malcolm and Leandra shared kiss after kiss, feeling bolder and handsier, but other than some huffs he didn’t do much more to ruin the night.

Before they knew it Carver crept through the door, his face amused at the state of Malcolm’s lipstick smeared face as he and Leandra were cuddling in the corner sharing a drunken snooze, Leandra cradled on Malcolm’s chest.

Gamlen sat in the corner, tight-lipped, the same scowl he carried all night plastered on his face.

“So you all had a good time,”

Leandra and Malcolm stirred, both yawning and blinking.

Mara saluted drunkenly from the couch, in a fit of giggles. “Yes, Officer. Mission succeeded.” He had interrupted her from eating Gamlen’s apology chocolates, a pile of used wrappers piled on the table among the many, many drained glasses.

“Very good,” Carver had a satisfied smile on his face. “I’ll need to take you back to Hightown now if Malcolm’s going to make it back by First Bell.”

“Nope,” Leandra shook her head with a yawn, her words a little slurred. “Nope. No, my parents will kill me if they see me like this. Take me to Mara’s.”

Mara yawned and covered her mouth. “Good idea. You have the day off so we can just sleep.”

Leandra jerked, suddenly realizing, “Oh, no! I have a Cleansing today!”

Mara cocked her head. “What time? Maybe we can grab a nap?”

Leandra chewed her lip picking herself up from Malcolm’s hold so she could look through her bag for her phone.

It was full of texts from her Mother and Father. She scrolled through the lectures and threats to find that her Cleansing was early and not only that but the Du Lancets would be participating and the Guillaume would be at her side tomorrow. And then the bubble popped.

“Oh, how am I going to presentable by 10 am?” Leandra’s voice was filled with panic.

“Don’t worry, I’m on the case,” Mara patted her chest confidently. “As long as I can pass out as soon as I’m done.”

“You’d have earned it and your raise,” Leandra pulled herself upright and wobbled in her heels.

“Easy there,” Malcolm automatically moved to steady her and she placed her hand on his chest as she willed the room to stop spinning. He sat her back down allowing her to lean on him. 

“Something greasy will work wonders,” Carver said helpfully.

“I’ll whip up a bacon breakfast when we get home,” Mara yawned. “And lots of coffee.”

As Mara stretched she looked at the templar with renewed interest, the man seeming more like a statue to her than a person and she eyed him from head to toe. “Not going to sing at least one?” she said in a sing-song voice, her cat eyes gleaming with mischief. “Malcolm tells us you have quite the voice.”

Carver smiled, chuckling. “We don’t really have time.”

Malcolm was looking for any reason to make the night last just a little longer. “Oh, c’mon just one. For old time’s sake?”

Leandra blinked her doe eyes, batting them like a weapon. “Oh, please,” her words crashed together clumsily. “You’ve been alone all night, Ser Carver. I’d love to hear you sing.”

 “I’m tired,” Gamlen snapped. “Let’s go.”

Maybe it was the fact that the other three were pleading, their drunken stupor making the consequences of the night still seem far away. Or maybe Carver wanted to have one more opportunity to get under Gamlen’s skin, but he smiled wider than he did all night, fully coming into the room and headed for the stage, crooking a motion to Malcolm to follow him. “I’m only singing if you join me, Hawke.”

Malcolm pushed himself off the couch eagerly. “Deal,” he said grabbing one of the extra mics from the stand as Mara and Leandra cheered, no more alcohol to toast with but they still raised their hands up in the motion.

Carver plugged in the song and a high energy guitar riff started streaming. Malcolm grinned as he recognized it. Carver’s energy seemed to change, his stiff shoulders relaxing as his warm coffee eyes gleamed at Malcolm, still remembering how Charlie was there the last time they sang this. He raised the mic, a raspy baritone ringing clear and beautiful like a deep bell, belting the lyrics with confidence.

“She’s got a smile that seems to me

Reminds me of childhood memories

Where everything was as fresh

As the clear blue sky.”

His eyes flicked to Mara, his hands cradling the mic as the beat rocked. Their eyes met in a strange crackling energy that Gamlen didn’t seem to notice cause he was too busy sulking. Carver watched as her slow gaze inspected him in curiosity, following the lines of his armor.

“Now and then when I see her face

It takes me to that special place

And if I stared too long,

I’d probably break down and cry.”

Malcolm joined him for the chorus, harmonizing with him so beautifully that it brought goosebumps to the ladies skin.

“Whooooa, Sweet child of mine,

Whooooa, Sweet love of mine.”

Then Malcolm’s honeyed voice took over, his eyes meeting Leandra as he sang with a smile, his face smeared with Leandra’s kisses, light and life in every bounce of his step.

“She’s got eyes like the starriest skies

As if they thought of rain

I’d hate to look into those eyes

And see an ounce of pain.”

Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place

Where as a child I’d hide

And pray for the thunder and rain

To quietly pass me by.”

Carver joined him again for the chorus, his soothing deep voice weaving around his melody as they repeated, their gazes meeting in boyish mischief. 

Then soon the guitar break came and both Carver and Malcolm went into ridiculous scatting, mimicking the riffs as they pretended to play invisible guitars. When the lyrics came back they echoed against each other, the melody getting more complicated as they each broke into their own renditions, bouncing and dancing on the stage as they pushed each other, a couple of boys roughhousing. Leandra and Mara couldn’t stop laughing at their silliness, the song stretching on and on never seemed to end until Carver and Malcolm kept singing back to the other.

“Where do we go?

Where do we go now?”

It was the question in Malcolm’s mind. His eyes stayed drawn to Leandra, asking her. 

Then the song wrapped up with the same high energy and Leandra and Mara rose to their feet cheering drunkenly. 

“Bravo!” 

“Bellissimo!”

“Encore!”

Gamlen’s scowl looked like it had been carved into his face and would stay there forever. He glared at the two men as they made exaggerated bows at the ladies’ applause.  

“Now can we go?” Gamlen snarled.

Carver’s proper demeanor was back in place as he put away the microphone with care. “Yes, I believe that is best.”

"Wait, wait, wait," Leandra reached through her bag for her phone and turned it back on. Ignoring the new messages, she then went to her camera. "We need to commemorate the night."

Malcolm and Carver looked at each other. 

"I'm not sure we should be leaving more evidence," Carver's voice said nervously. 

Leandra blinked her eyes pleading. "Please, it won't leave my phone. I just need something to remember the night was real."

That was all the convincing Malcolm needed. He grabbed Leandra's waist pulling her in for a pose. She blushed and snuggled in closer, holding out the phone, their faces framing the screen.

Carver looked like he wanted to protest more but Mara grabbed his arm. "C'mon Officer, loosen up." He seemed flustered as the small woman led him. "It's just a selfie." She then motioned Gamlen to join her. "You too, Grumpmeister." 

Gamlen looked irritated to see Mara casually touching Carver's arm and so stormed up and claimed her with a possessive grab on her hip and yanked her to him. 

Mara seemed annoyed, but said nothing as they all huddled in close for the camera so their faces could fit. 

It flashed, and they all blinked, temporarily blind. 

"Sorry," Leandra said as they all peered at the picture. 

Carver was caught in the middle between Mara and Leandra looking out of place in his armor, his face grim like a statue. Mara leaned on Gamlen but her face was closer to Carver, smiling a model's smile as she posed expertly. Gamlen's face was cut off slightly, his ugly glare caught as he stared at Malcolm and Leandra pressing cheeks, her lipstick had left a clear trail of where she claimed him and they shared the same ecstatic smile.

Malcolm wanted something to remember the night, too. He grabbed Leandra's phone and texted himself the picture. He handed the phone back. "Now you have my number." 

She gazed at her phone blushing as she realized he inserted himself as "Dream Guy."

They left the club, the sky still dark among the high buildings, but there were still signs of the bus moving for the early commute. Carver drove them to Mara’s place in Midtown which bordered the edge of Lowtown and Hightown, a cut of suburbs that were newer and had a cookie cutter like appearance. There was already a car in the driveway, a nice but older SUV that had been handled with care. The streets were dark except for the street lights that marked the houses in neat little rows, flowering shrubs and gardens filled with knick knacks differentiating them.

Malcolm got out of the car and helped Leandra out, their hands not unlinking as she stepped out.

Mara pushed out of the templar car still yawning, Gamlen following quickly behind. “You can go to my room, but don’t be loud and wake Lolo.”

Gamlen nodded, keeping close to Mara as she dug through her purse for her keys. He cast a glare in Malcolm’s direction when he noticed he was holding his sister’s hand but he kept to his apology and said nothing, following Mara into her house.

Leandra and Malcolm’s stroll was a languid shuffle as if they slowed down the moment it wouldn’t end. Still Mara’s porch approached and it did.

“When can I see you again?” she asked shyly as she squeezed his hand harder instead of letting go.

Malcolm’s heart fluttered, his voice eager. “I’ll break out as soon as I’m able.”

Leandra seemed conflicted about that. She placed her hand over his heart, lines of worry streaking her face. “Don’t get in trouble on my account.”

Malcolm grinned cheekily as he leaned into her face. “I am trouble.”

He captured her lips in a hungry kiss, not knowing when he’d be able to taste her next. Their lips moved unhurried and slow, their fingers exploring over their clothing under the arch of the porch. One minute passed, then two. It seemed there was not enough time in the world to memorize each other, and they were soon interrupted by Carver’s loud but abrupt honk.

Malcolm grinned against her mouth. “See you soon,” he promised and he dashed off and hopped into the front seat of Carver’s car.

Leandra didn’t go inside until the vehicle pulled away from the driveway and disappeared down the street.

[fuwafuwamedb]

To Live as a Mongrel Pt 9 (Hakuno, Siduri)

Previously: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

___

It took time for her wrist to heal, but her anger.

Her anger boiled and bubbled like the fiercest stew created. She could still see that bitter smile on the woman’s face, the hurrying off she did helped in no manner, since she was no doubt brave about wandering the palace by now.

Two months was long enough.

Siduri marched the steps, thinking carefully about her next move.

The king was off to war right now, so the woman was even more open to suffering and carnage. Since the two months had started, the woman would be far more lax in her defense. So that just meant, where did she begin?

Did she pour more of that powder into the woman’s clothes?

Did she leave the windows open to the gardens, making the woman burn from the light from Utu himself?

Perhaps she could make her go down into the depths of the palace and survive a few days with no food or drink at her aid. She wouldn’t die, but she would wish she had. The darkness below the ziggurat was absolute, leaving one’s eyes to scream after a few hours, begging for some kind of light. She would be sensitive for ages.

Oh, it was perfect.

“Siduri!” A few of the servants scurried over, bowing low.

“What is this?”

“We have continued your efforts,” they told her. “We think she is preparing to leave. We’ve heard her moving around in the king’s chambers. She’s locked all the doors to the room and refuses to leave it.”

Wait.

Siduri frowned, looking passed the servants to the advisors.

Their eyes drifted over the servants, their mouths thin lines as the wrinkles of age and fatigue marred their expressions.

“Excuse me,” Siduri murmured to the girls.

“Welcome back, Siduri,” the advisors greeted.

“Thank you. My wrist is healed and the apsu have cleared me to resume my work.”

“There may not be work for a while. At least, not for a while, at this rate.”

Siduri frowned.

“The king’s consort is pregnant,” one of the eldest advisors told her. “She’s hidden away in her room and has become paranoid about the troubles that brought forth sufferings to both herself and you. She refuses food and drink. She refuses the apsu that come to knock to check on the child.”

“Th-that’s impossible.” Siduri laughed. “No one gets pregnant from the king.”

“You can imagine why we are concerned.”

She would get into that room.

Mind set, she nodded.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.”

There was another path into the king’s chamber.

She’d seen it when he was young. He would often use the path behind one of the downstairs lion statues to climb up to his room and down again. The other side would come to the dresser, which he had placed carefully over the opening.

Each step into the secret passage was difficult and awkward, the ceilings sloped for accommodating a mere boy and not an adult.

The moment she reached the opening, Siduri found herself hearing the sound of sobbing.

This attention grabbing was too much.

Everything she’d done was too much, really. Why go to this length? It wasn’t worth it in the end. If she truly knew much about running this kingdom, she would want out. Gilgamesh wanted out sometimes. Or rather, she thought he did.

The figure on the bed was the first thing she saw.

From there, she could see the pots collected around the room, growing plants at various stages.

Tests…

“What are you doing in here?!”

Siduri stared at all the pottery around the room. All of the various pots had barley growing forth. There were too many for this to be a game. The large furniture pieces pressed against the doors and large bags underneath the woman’s eyes said this wasn’t a trick anymore.

“Get out!”

The king’s personal dagger was in her hands, her body wrapped carefully around her growing belly.

Siduri just stared at her.

“Y-you’re actually pregnant.”

The king never let her leave. He’d forbidden it. To go along with this, he’d ensured that only women were permitted near her at all times. Any men caught near her were to be killed. She’d heard the decree from people in the market, snickering over their king’s possessiveness.

That only left one result.

“I’m leaving.”

Siduri stared at her, eyes widening.

“You win. I don’t care. I heard about the war worsening and I saw the broken gold armor. There’ll be no one here to protect the boy when I have him. All of you have been after killing us from the beginning. The king brought a mongrel here.”

Those brown eyes shot daggers with that gaze of hers.

“He did bring a mongrel, but he lived like one for a while and we were happy that way. I’ll just go back. You don’t need to worry. I’m only taking this dagger with me.”

“M-my lady, I-“

“I’ve never been your lady,” she pointed out. “You’ve never even liked me. Don’t pretend now just because there’s something at stake. I won’t change my mind.”

This wasn’t right.

Yes, she didn’t like her, but she’d also thought…

The king and her had shown adoration and devotion to one another! The king had actually finished one of these marriage ceremonies, creating a child. That meant that this woman was the queen consort now, not simply a concubine or wife like she had thought.

She loves him.

Siduri stepped forward, finding the woman readying herself for the initial attack.

“My lady, please! Please, let’s… Let’s calm down and think this through.”

“The last time someone told me to calm down and think something through, I slaughtered the man, his parents who’d captured me, and was chased out by his brother and his family until Gilgamesh killed them with me.”

There was a lot of information right now and she didn’t have time to think about what this woman had been through.

“I’m leaving,” she told her again.

“I’m sorry.”

The woman was scooting off the other side of the bed, carrying the dagger carefully as she fixed her nondescript attire. There were a few loose bits of thread.

She literally just sewed that together, Siduri observed.

The woman was tenacious, wholly goal and strategy oriented when it came to this whole situation. She was, in a word, perfect for the king.

And right now she was heading for that cobweb filled passage she’d come in through.

Siduri backed her way to the passage, blocking it.

“My Queen, I can’t let you leave. Gilgamesh will come back and he will see all of your tests,” Siduri argued. “He will see them and he will hear from the advisors about your condition. There won’t be a single soul left in this ziggurat when he is through.”

“You’ll survive. You’re his first wife, after all.”

“His fir- woman, I am a widow to a former guard!”

Hakuno raised her brow at her.

“I AM- Please! Please just lay down in bed. I will fetch you some fruits and food and we can discuss this. There are better ways to handle this than running off to wherever you came from.”

“I don’t intend to lose my son.”

“And I don’t intend to let you!”

“Please don’t lie.” The woman smirked, in that way that was all too much like her king’s own smirk. “I’ve nearly fallen down the stairs of the ziggurat twice in the past week when I was sneaking out. Someone slipped rats beneath the doors before I shoved fabrics in the thin space beneath it. I’ve had foul food shoved underneath that door before that. The tablets that I helped with were broken by the messengers, leading to turmoil amongst the citizens.”

Dear gods.

“There is no respect for me. Not from you. Not from anyone. You win. I love Gil and I know he will be the great king that he is, but I can tell when I’ve reached my limit. My limit is with the one piece of Gilgamesh that I have left.”

She wasn’t going to listen.

Her grip on the dagger was tightening.

“My queen,” Siduri knelt down, pressing her hands to the floor as she bowed to the woman. “Please… I know we have fought, but I swear… I vow to you, with Ninsun and Utu as my witnesses, I will do no more.”

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Snap Out of It

Beast Boy x Reader

Summary: When a mission against Mad Mod goes wrong, it’s up to you to snap your favorite shapeshifter out of his hypnotism.

Note: Hi, my name is Morgan and I love Beast Boy with all of my heart. Sorry not sorry lmao. But yeah, this has been bouncing around my head forever. Forgive me. Edit: I think this is the quickest I’ve ever written a fic asjhafkjdh

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1.6k

Why, during summer vacation of all times, did it have to be Mad Mod? Why? You hated the red-haired old man with every bone in your body, especially when he disrupted your one break from school. Today was supposed to be a nice day. The team was planning on going to the beach all day and then having a movie night so you could watch the new X-Men movie you’d heard less than satisfactory things about, but nooooo. Now you were strapped to a chair, a spinning vortex swirling in front of you and a soothing voice telling you to relax.

Were you at the beach? No. So relaxing wasn’t going to happen.

The room you were trapped in was modeled to look like a classroom, which only served to piss you off even more. You swore anger was the only thing keeping you lucid. So you sat there, stewing in your rage until it was finally enough to give you the strength to bust free of the metal shackles around your wrists.

With them out of the way, and not inhibiting you anymore, you could use your powers again. So you did, using a blast of purple energy to destroy the projector hanging down from the ceiling. Its remains sparked and smoked and the wall it had been projecting onto went dark. You were fine, as far as you knew. A little dizzy from staring at that damn spiral for so long, sure, but fine otherwise.

So, you set out to find the others.

Victor was trapped in an unending game of dodgeball until you helped him through the hidden door. Raven had been locked in a janitor’s closet sealed shut with magic so she couldn’t get out, Starfire was bound to the jungle gym, and finally, Robin had found himself stuck in the principal’s office.

That left one green shapeshifter unaccounted for.

“In here.” Raven pointed to a door labeled ‘Algebra.’ There were lights flickering inside, and you prayed that opening the door wouldn’t lead to another trap. Luckily enough, it was a room similar to the one you had been trapped in, a whirling swirl spinning on the wall in front of where Beast Boy was tied down. His head was tilted to the size, his eyes crossed and his body limp.

You destroyed the projector with a blast of energy, but that didn’t shake him from his daze. Gar was still sitting there, an empty look in his eyes.

“We need to snap him out of it.” Robin waved a hand in front of your teammate’s face. He didn’t budge.

“Underpants.” Starfire tried. Though that method had worked before, on one of the other occasions you’d all been kidnapped by your least favorite madman, it didn’t this time.

“Wake up, Gar!” Raven snapped, shaking his shoulder. That didn’t work either.

Victor tried to tell him a joke, Dick snapped in his face a few times, but none of it seemed to have any effect on him at all. And then you got an idea.

“Alright, step aside.” You motioned the others away. Your powers, being magic based, had some perks sometimes. One of said perks was to be able to break people out of spells and other tricks of the mind. The only downside, really, was the method you had to use to do such a thing. “Listen. If this doesn’t work, we never tell Gar it happened, alright? I’d never hear the end of it…”

“Do what you’ve gotta do.” Dick nodded, crossing his arms.

The others all watched as you lowered yourself onto Garfield’s lap. You grimaced. This was decidedly too weird. You couldn’t remember a time you’d ever been this close to him. After all, this was Gar you were talking about. You leaned in and then hesitated. Were you really going to do this? Was this where your super-heroing adventures had led you after all of these years? You were going to…ugh, you couldn’t. You couldn’t! But you had to. You knew he’d do the same for you.

So, after thinking it over for a long moment, trying to figure out any other way, but failing to come up with anything, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in a magical kiss, siphoning the dark energy out of him until finally—

He kissed you back.

As soon as you felt his lips moving against yours, you squeaked, jumping out of his lap as both of your hands slapped over your mouth. You kissed Garfield and He Kissed You Back.

Well, now you felt weird about the whole thing.

When you looked down at him, he was still tied to the chair, staring up at you in a different sort of daze, cheeks pink and getting pinker as he realized what had happened only moments before. Victor untied him and Dick helped him stand while you just stood there in shock, still processing.

“You okay?” Raven asked, making sure you hadn’t just transferred his hypnotism onto yourself, but she knew you were out of it for…other reasons.

“Fine. I’m fine.” You reassured yourself, mostly. “Let’s just kick his ass and get out of here. It’s been a long day.”

“Right. Titans, Go!” Robin directed the team onwards and you did your best to put the last few minutes behind you, but you knew that was going to be easier said than done…

***

When the six of you finally got back to the tower, movie night commenced as planned, although your beach day had been sacrificed in the name of crime-fighting. As there were only a few spots left on the couch, Gar had plopped down next to you, which immediately set off your fight or flight instinct.

“I’m…gonnagomakepopcornberightback!” You blurted before bolting to the kitchen to put a bag of it in the microwave. Once it was in and spinning around, the machine humming quietly, you stood there, collecting yourself. You were a superhero. You weren’t supposed to feel like this about something as stupid as a crush.

Wait a second, back up. Crush? Did you have a crush on Garfield? Garfield? Garfield as in your green teammate Garfield? Garfield as in the one who’d tracked mud across your newly mopped floor Garfield? Garfield, the same Garfield who never took out the trash when it was his turn and always left his dishes in the sink instead of the dishwasher? That Garfield?

He kissed you back, didn’t he? Maybe he liked you. And…maybe…you liked him back?

God! What were you thinking?! No! You couldn’t like Garfield! Never! Not in a million years!

But…mulling it over further…it wasn’t like he was a bad looking guy. In fact, he was actually kind of cute. Maybe more than cute. With that boyish grin and his adorable fangs, his cute little laugh. Was he a little messy? Sure, but he’d always stood up for you, even when you had been new to the team. He always went out of his way to make you feel like you belonged.

The microwave beeping pulled you out of your thoughts and back into reality. You shook your head, inhaling a deep breath. Madness. Nonsense. You were overthinking things. He knew that your powers were tricky sometimes. He knew that it was nothing personal. Right?

“Hey…” A careful voice spoke up behind you and you turned around to look at him. “Can we, uh, talk? About what…happened earlier?”

“S-sure. What’s up?” You set the popcorn bowl on the counter and crossed your arms, leaning back against it. Super casual. Nailed it.

“Well, I just…thank you, first of all. Victor told me you kind of saved my ass.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Heh, yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks going pink. “When I…well, when I kissed you back…listen, (Y/N) I didn’t think it was any secret I liked you…”

Well, this was not the conversation you were expecting to have today…Earlier, you’d imagined the green boy teasing you for all of eternity. Hey, (Y/N) remember that time you kissed me haha omg XD. This little confession unfolding in front of you was…different…

“You…”

“You don’t have to say anything. Really, it’s okay.” He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “I just…I’m really sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” You asked quietly. You blessed the fates above for giving you the courage to take one teeny little step forward.

“The last thing I wanted was to make things weird between us.” He sighed. “But obviously I did, so…”

“Why me?”

“Why you?” He laughed. “Are you kidding? You have magic powers, you can fly, you’re literally a badass, but at the same time, you’re funny and sweet and pretty…Any guy, girl, or otherwise would be lucky to date you.”

“Gar, if we’re being honest, I…didn’t know I had a crush on you until today. But…I definitely do, and I definitely have for a while.”

He perked up a little, green eyes sparkling with boyish innocence. “For real?”

“Yeah, for real.” You took another little baby step forward. “So…”

“So…”

“Would you two just shut up and kiss already?! We’re TRYING to watch the MOVIE!” Cyborg hollered from the couch.

Your cheeks flushed red and you giggled, surrendering your blushing face to the security of Garfield’s toned chest. He wrapped his arms around you, gently kissing your temple. You could feel him smiling against you, his hands tracing patterns on your arms and back.

“Don’t worry, baby. We’ve got all the time in the world for kissing.” Gar kissed your forehead again.

“Well, I never thought I’d say it, but…thank God for Mad Mod…”

He laughed. “You’re telling me.”

[starsinursa]

hello! for the prompt: "wait a second, you're not straight?"

Castiel Novak is an asshole.

Seriously, screw Castiel Novak and his gorgeous eyes and hismessy hair and his terrible attitude and the fact that he’ll barely even give Dean the time of day, even though they’ve been at the same college for three years.

Screw him, and screw Dean’s life that he agreed to do an interviewwith him, because now he’s stuck sitting across a café table from an unfairlyhot douchebag who won’t even deign to look him in the eyes half the time.

“How old were you when you first became interested in baseball?”Castiel asks curtly, writing something on his notepad. He sounds as annoyed asDean feels, like he’d rather be anywhere other than here, and that makes two ofthem.

Dean casts his thoughts back several years – a lot ofyears. “Probably ten years old? I never really did the whole ‘little league’ or‘t-ball’ thing, I didn’t actually join a team until high school, but when I wasten, uh…” He trails off for a second, wondering how much he should spill about his less-than-storybook childhood, before deciding to gloss over…well, almost everything. “When I was ten, my brother and I went to live withour Uncle Bobby. He took us to the park to play baseball one day, and it just kind of stuck, I guess.”

Castiel, the asshole, doesn’t even glance up – just scribblesaway on his notepad, looking bored. Dean stews silently in his seat, resistingthe urge to fidget, and wonders why the hell he agreed to this interview again? School spirit? The free coffee and donut?

Then Castiel finally glances up, blue eyes boring into his withan intensity that freezes him in place, and oh yeah, he remembers now - becausehe’s got a massive, unrequited crush, and apparently he’s a sadist and a glutton forpunishment, that’s why.

“Who would you say has been your biggest supporter?”

“Uh –“ Dean is distracted for a moment, pinned by those eyes -

- until the silence stretches on too long, and then those eyesnarrow at him, Castiel’s lips pressing together in annoyance. “It’s just anarticle for the school paper, Dean. You don’t have to think of anyaward-winning answers.”

That snaps Dean out of it, and he shoots a withering glare across thetable. “I guess,” he says loudly, deciding to ignore Castiel’s jab, “probably my brother. He’s always pushing me to do more things formyself, and playing college baseball was one of them. He’s the one whopushed me to look into baseball scholarships.”

“I see.” The tone says that yes, Castiel sees, and he obviouslydoesn’t really care. Castiel moves on. “What’s your favorite professional team?”

Dean huffs a laugh at that. “Honestly? Don’t really have one.Anything but the Cubs, I guess. I had an ex-boyfriend in high school that was adiehard Cubs fan and things didn’t end great between us, so now I can’t reallystand them. Not fair to the team, I guess, but ’s how it goes.”

Castiel jots down another few notes, eyes roving over his notepad. “And did you ever –“

He cuts off, snapping his mouth shut so abruptly thatDean actually hears his teeth click. His head jerks up like it’d been yanked by astring. The effect would’ve been hilarious if Castiel wasn’t gaping at Deanlike he’d grown an extra head, and Dean fidgetsuncomfortably under the scrutiny. Maybe the guy was a Cubs fan?

“What?” he finally snaps.

“You said ex-boyfriend,” Castiel points out.

“Uh, yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious?”

Instead of moving on now that the point is clarified, Castiel looks more confused. “Wait asecond, you’re not straight?”

Dean’s eyebrows pinch together. “No? Who said I wasstraight?”

“I…well, no one actually said, but I just thought…”

“Nah, man, I’m bi. I mean, I don’t exactly broadcast the fact, but it’s notlike I’m not in the closet, either.”

“But –“ Castiel looks totally thrown off, floundering, and it’s a little - okay, a lot - gratifying. It’s sweet karma, that’s what it is, for all the times he’s made Dean feel like a lumbering Neanderthal. “You’redating Jo Harvelle!”

“Okay, one, that’s gross, I’m not dating Jo, she’s practicallymy sister,” Dean says, making a face. “And B, you do realize I’d stillbe bi even if I was dating a girl, right? That’s, like, the very definition ofbeing bisexual. Y’know. Dating men or women. Innies or outies. Both.”

“Yes, I know that,” Castiel snaps, looking flustered. “Ijust…never realized you were bi,” he ends lamely.

Dean can’t believe they’re actually having this conversation. “Are you serious? Dude, I go to the campus LGBTQ meetings, we’ve literally seen each other there!”

“Yes, but you always come with Charlie Bradbury!” Castiel protests. “I just thought you were attending as an ‘ally’!”

“…okay, I guess I could see that,” Dean concedes. “But c’mon, I’vebeen hitting on you since Chem Lab in freshman year. I’veasked you out like five times!”

And always been shot down, too. Brutally, without an ounce of mercy. Not that Dean is bitter or anything. Nope, he’s definitely not bitter. Not at all.

Castiel actually has the good grace to look ashamed,fidgeting with his pencil and glancing down at his lap. “…I just thought youwere being facetious.”

Dean gapes. “What?”

“It means ‘teasing’, behaving in a joking or humorous -” 

“I know what ‘facetious’ means!” Dean interrupts. “I just can’tbelieve you thought I was flirting with you as a joke,like some kind of monumental asshole.”

“I didn’t think you were an asshole, necessarily,” Castiel mutters, looking moresheepish by the moment. “Just…disingenuous.”

“What?”

“It means – “

“I know what ‘disingenuous’ means, Cas! Christ!” Dean’s anger ismounting, stoked by each discouraging revelation, and it doesn’t help that Castiel apparently thinks he’s an utter moron. “You know I’m an Education major, right? You’ve been asking me about baseball for the last halfhour, but you haven’t asked a single question about what I’m actually doing hereat college. Surprise, surprise - I’m actually halfway decent at my classes, too.”

“I…was not aware of that, no,” Castiel says quietly, then seems to realize what he’s said and hurriedly adds, “Not the part about you doing well in classes, I meant the part about you being an Education major! I wasn’t aware you were majoring in Education.”

Dean snorts. “Yeah, well, baseball ain’t much use to me aftergraduation. I wanna be an English teacher, for yourinformation.”

Castiel looks properly cowed, and, for once, is apparently outof things to say. An awkward silence descends on the table – Castiel staringdown at his notepad, Dean glaring across the table at him. He’s simmering with anger, a righteous anger because he knows it’sjustified, but in the face of Castiel’s hunched shoulders and ducked head, it’s starting towaver a bit. 

Castiel breaks the silence first, clearing his throat andlooking up into Dean’s eyes. God, even as pissed as he is, Dean’s still a sucker for those blue eyes.

“Dean, I apologize. I’ve treated you very unfairly these pastthree years, and you didn’t deserve it. I’m realizing now that I made a lot ofassumptions about you that are untrue, but it affected the way I treated you. I’ve been a complete assbutt, and I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

Castiel sounds properly chastised. Like a pricked balloon, Dean’s anger starts to deflate inthe face of that earnest, hopeful expression, and he sighs and runs a handthrough his hair. “Yeah, well. Y’know what they say about assuming, I guess,” he jokes weakly.

Castiel cocks his head, looking nonplussed. “No?”

“Oh. Really? Uh –“ Dean doesn’t really want to say it now, incase it pisses Castiel off and makes him revert back to being a douchebag, but Cas is obviously waiting, full of curiosity, so hebites the bullet. “…when you assume, you make an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’,” he quoteslamely.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Castiel bursts out laughing. Dean stares, a little entranced. He definitely didn’t expect that reaction. He’s barely ever seenCastiel crack a smile, much less laugh, and it’s - wow. He wouldn’t mind seeing a lot more of this Cas.

Castiel meets his gaze, eyes still crinkled with mirth.

“Dean, do you think it would be possible to start over? No assumptions?”

“Yeah. I’d like that, Cas.”

“Good. I’m Castiel Novak.”

When Castiel holds out a hand across the table, Dean shakes it, amused. Castiel’s palm iswarm and broad against his. “Hi, Cas. I’m Dean Winchester.”

Castiel smiles. “Hello, Dean.”