#I'd been slogging through angst and complaining about it

[laundrybiscuits]

(wait for the season to come back to me tag)

It gets less strange, as time goes by. Eddie doesn’t make any kind of noise about him moving out at some point, and neither do Steve and Robin. Turns out they don't need to store any bodily fluids in the fridge, and in fact if Steve didn't know better, he wouldn't be able to tell that Eddie's drinking blood at all. Steve assumes he's getting animal blood from somewhere on a regular basis, but as far as either Steve or Robin can tell, he never takes it inside the apartment.

Anyway, it turns out Eddie can still technically eat human food, but about half of it tends to come back up afterwards. They’re still figuring out what works and what doesn’t. Robin made a little chart with smiley-face and frowny-face stickers, which Eddie has been gleefully filling out. He’s drawn little fangs onto the stickers with a Sharpie.

That’s another thing: to Steve’s mild surprise, Eddie and Robin have been getting along like a house on fire.

“I really wish I’d known him in high school,” says Robin, slicing bell peppers for dinner.  “I think it would’ve made Hawkins a lot more bearable.”

Steve doesn’t really remember Eddie at all from school, which is probably a really good thing.

He can’t imagine the guy he was back then being this obsessed with Eddie. Well, no, that’s not true. He can imagine it, but he’d have been such a jackass about it. Probably would’ve fucked a few girls about it. Maybe would’ve even bullied Eddie about it.

“Did you come out to him yet?” Steve asks Robin.

Robin leans all the way out the kitchen door, practically horizontal. Steve grabs the back of her belt so she doesn’t overbalance. “Hey! Hey, Eddie!” she yells.

“What, Buckley!” he yells back.

“I’m gay!”

“Cool, me too!”

She lets Steve’s grip swing her back in, grinning. “Your turn, dingus.”

Steve’s going to. He is. The longer he waits, the more awkward it gets. He’s got nothing to lose. He—

Robin takes him by the shoulders, spins him around, and pushes him out into the living room.

“Uh,” he says. “I’m—bisexual.”

Eddie actually does, like, a full-body twitch; his eyebrows climb practically to his hairline for a second, and he sets down his book.

“I’m…very proud of you? Thank you for telling me?”

“Why are you being weirder about me than Robin,” says Steve, annoyed.

“Because you’re being weirder about it than Robin was! I don’t know, I don’t have a lot of practice with, uh, this. Also, Robin was a band geek who dressed like Annie Hall, and you were—popular.” He draws out popular like it’s got three key changes in it, waving his hands in the air.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve huffs. “Sorry I wasn’t, like, alternative enough to be a real queer.”

“No, c’mon, Steve, I didn’t mean it like that. I accept you! Buckley, get in here and accept Steve with me.”

“Ste-eve Harrington,” Robin sings out, wandering out of the kitchen to wrap her arms around Steve’s waist. “We accept you and your beautiful bisexual soul.”

“Thanks,” says Steve dryly.

Eddie points at him. “Feel accepted.”

“I feel accepted,” Steve says; daring, he holds out an arm, and Eddie hops up to let Steve pull him into the hug too.

“Good,” says Eddie into Steve’s shoulder. “You should be.”

[sunderedazem]

Jedi whump and angst? Don't mind if I do 😈 How about a sadistic choice scenario? Rescue a bunch of civilians or a single SIS agent with critical information that could possibly save a lot of lives later?

Edit: look what you did. it's a whole damn CHAPTER- XDDDDD THIS IS THE JAXO QUESTION BUT SO MUCH WORSE I AM GOING TO SCREAM- Anyway! Have this lil thingy I cooked up. It's set shortly after dueling Arcann on Asylum, hehe. It's not completely whump/blorbabuse, but it IS pure unadulterated angst, heh. And MCD. Sort of-not really- I promise everyone is mostly-fine! Except Corrain. I uh. beat up my faves. oops.

-

"-Arcann has scores of the Ossan's crew here. Almost seven hundred of them - and easily another hundred civilians from the planet below."

Theron's voice was twisted with that telltale mix of contempt and icy calm that meant he was seconds away from exploding, his words clipped over the static of the earpiece. Corrain dove through yet another blue-lit corridor in lieu of answering, pale golden blades carving a charred path through the endless Skytroopers. Behind him, Lana growled and beheaded yet another droid, lightning flashing in the brilliant acid gold of her eyes.

"I can imagine the Exarchs treated them...unpleasantly," she huffed, only a touch out of breath from the slog of fighting through four levels of droids.

"Unpleasantly? I'd almost rather be in an Imperial prison," Theron hissed. It was enough to give Corrain pause, darting into a nearby maintenance shaft, Lana still hot on his tail. A snarl curdled unbidden on his face.

"I doubt that," he sneered, before he could stop himself, the familiar bitter ice of anger sliding into his chest. The comm crackled with sudden static silence. Lana put a hand on his shoulder, her expression tense but understanding, and squeezed gently. He paused for a moment, trying to draw back the instinctive growl, and took a deep breath.

"Right. Out of line. Sorry, Theron."

"No, I get it, Cor. Not much can compare to what you went through - but trust me. This...probably comes closer than most."

"For their sake, I hope not," he replied, tone sliding towards worried at Theron's strangled commentary. "Force- I hope not."

He and Lana cut through three more corridors of Skytroopers and Zakuulan knights on the main level, Theron keeping up a running commentary on his own progress in the underbelly of the Star Fortress's maintenance shafts the whole time. He was busy wrecking the station's weaponry and defenses and generally causing enough mayhem on board to divert at least some of the Exarch's forces to repairing the damage - and as usual, he was having entirely too much fun with it. Corrain would have smiled if the mission hadn't been quite so heavy.

But finally, a string of groaning bodies and dismembered droids in their wake, he and Lana made it to the Star Fortress's control center. The doors were familiar bronzed metal, the locking mechanism melting in seconds under the application of a lightsaber. Lana kicked the steaming door-segment down with a flourish and winked wickedly, gesturing to the new hole.

"After you, darling Commander."

"My money's on a rosy blush there, Lana."

"Hmmm...I'll give it to you. I did try for cherry but he doesn't blush quite as brightly nowadays..."

"He's gotten used to us being sweet on him."

Corrain huffed at them, face burning, but Theron's laugh over his earpiece and Lana's teasing grin were infectious.

"Can you two not," he complained, ducking through the makeshift, smoking doorway. "We're almost-"

He blinked, bronzed hallways and blue Zakuulan floor lighting vanishing, the stark red and grey durasteel of an Imperial Command center greeting him instead. It looked nearly defunct, scorch marks sizzling on every surface, the telltale angry orange of lightsaber-melted metal scored through the walls and floors. The faint scent of smoke and burned flesh filled the air.

Suddenly, the entire station lurched sharply, hurling him and Lana into the room, terrified screaming beginning to drift up from the lower levels like a chorus of the damned. He choked, reaching out- the cloying, frigid cold of fear numbing his Force-senses, drowning him in icy depths. Static crackled in his ear again, and he turned, looking helplessly back at the hallway they'd just come from only to see the blank, unbroken transparisteel windows of the Emperor's Fortress, a lightless void of space echoing beyond.

-panic...scream...

The station lurched wildly again, a curse drifting over the commlink in his ear, faded in the face of his confusion and drifting horror. Theron. Theron, alone on the maintenance decks.

"We're taking heavy fire, Corrain!" Lana cried then, already at the controls- magically working despite the charred interface, her hands flying across the station controls. "We need to get the shields up or we're all going to die here!"

He blinked- suddenly the wide windows behind him alight with cannon fire, red bolts striking the station's hull. Overhead, the lights flickered. The screaming of the trapped prisoners grew louder, echoing inside his head. There was a hiss over the earpiece. Lana clicked her tongue, suddenly, pulling up a power routing schematic. Corrain studied it for a minute, fog inside his skull growing thicker, uncomprehending as Lana swore violently.

"Theron. Theron get out of there - shield power is at six percent. One more salvo from the Fleet and we're as good as dead - the only option is to power down and depressurize every maintenance level. It'll buy us enough time to get the Ossan's crew to safety."

"...Lana, the maintenance levels are crawling with Skytroopers," Theron said after a long, tense moment, his tone wavering with quiet acceptance. "I don't know if I can make it back in time."

Lana's expression tightened, her hands trembling on the console. Sluggish understanding crept through Corrain's head, the gravity of what that meant tearing something deep within his chest asunder.

"No-" he gasped out, eyes widening. He couldn't let this happen. "No- Theron, I'll come find you-"

"Cor, I'm at the other end of the Fortress, even you couldn't make it," Theron cut him off midsentence, his tone business like as usual, hiding a tremor. "Lana- how long until the Fleet fires again?"

"Less than five minutes- Theron-"

"There's no choice here," the spy snapped suddenly. "I'm not having you two save me and condemn eight hundred innocent people to death!"

Corrain lunged for the controls then, desperately scrolling, typing- but the software glitched violently, the schematic of power rerouting blinking out and then reappearing, the commands to depressurize the maintenance levels already typed in somehow, lines of code and text blurring. Lana wrapped an arm around his chest, squeezing- he couldn't breathe. Breathing hurt, phantom pains ripping his heart out, shredding organ and bone and flesh and- he blinked, time passed- sickly cold rolled through him, chilling him to the core-

He couldn't. He couldn't do this.

Lana disappeared in a soft wisp of smoke, the choking pressure of Vitiate's presence a lingering echo. Theron coughed sharply over the earpiece again-

"Cor. Corrain, you have to let me go."

"I- I can't-"

"You can. You have to. You can't sacrifice hundreds of innocent people for me."

(could he?)

...activity...fever is...infection?

"I can't lose you, Theron!"

He couldn't- not Theron, not Lana, the only two people he'd trusted with heart, body and soul- it would be worse than losing Orgus. Worse than losing the Jedi who'd raised him, from infant to Initiate- he couldn't-

"You're a Jedi, Corrain, you can't choose one life over eight hundred just because it's me!"

A Jedi- He was a Jedi - but was he really? Eight hundred was a drop in the bucket after- after Vitiate had forced him to- had forced him- The screaming from below grew louder again, fracturing the edges of his attention-

"...I can't."

He couldn't make himself hit submit - he was frozen, staring at the enter key which would reroute power and send his beloved spy hurtling into the vacuum of space. Pain throbbed through his chest cavity, heart bleeding ice into his lungs and stomach. Thunder roared in his ears, a heartbeat agonizing with an inability to decide, an inability to let go-

"...Then- I'm so sorry, Cor. I love you. Keyword: lunar regolith. Reroute power to the shields."

Horror- anger, fury beyond belief, a betrayal more profound than any other- terror, tearing at the inside of his heart like glass through cloth- How did Theron know that, no one knew that phrase anymore, no one besides him- not even Valkorion- and then he was moving again- moving to commit another atrocity, another murder-

Echoing silence rang suddenly in the station, his hands typing in the final strokes on autopilot- He sobbed, fighting futilely with his own body, straining against a force he'd never truly defeated, not even when he'd stood over Vitiate's broken body and drove a lightsaber through his skull. Theron's voice kept going, soft and sad in his ear.

"Cor, you'll be okay. I promise, you'll be okay. And I'm s-so sorry. I love you so-"

An echoing hiss, and then static.

Silence.

-

He woke up to the blur of soft medbay lights blinding overhead and drying tears carving cold arcs down his face. Cold- sickly cold, a burning cold that at once left him chilled to the marrow and burning hot, ate at the little strength he had, sapping him. For a moment, he just lay there, his memory garbled and body like wet noodles, dreamlike static sizzling in his ears, trying to piece together the shattered recollection of Theron's voice echoing softly in his ear, of Lana's hold on him turning to agony and relief all in one-

"...Corrain?"

A familiar voice- raw from exhaustion, the light accent only barely hiding the distress radiating from her. A blonde blur slid carefully into the white glow of the overhead lights, a smudge of soft gold with catlike golden eyes. He stared, blinking once - the haze only cleared enough to reveal more distinct facial features.

Lana.

"Force. Force, you're awake," she whispered, and he felt the edge of the bed he lay on dip slightly as she turned, sat down next to him. Gentle warmth enveloped one of his hands, a soft, shaky exhale leaving her lips as her fingers laced through his, her free hand pressing two fingers to the inside of his wrist, testing his pulse. Slowly, he tried to squeeze reassuringly- but the effort was vast, that slight movement sending stars sparking around the edges of his field of vision.

The soft replay of Theron's voice- cutting off into void static-

He took a breath- pain exploded through his lower ribcage, vicious even against the numbing effects of weakness and- painkiller? Kolto? Motes of understanding were slipping back, and slowly he became aware of the tube in his nose, the mask on his face and kolto pumps carefully attached to his chest, the tubes feeding into his arm. His chest ached bitterly, agony dulled in every shallow breath- from a lightsaber wound. Arcann's.

Memory came flooding back in a deluge of sudden relief. It had been a dream. Theron was fine- neither he nor Lana knew Corrain's keyword. It was just a nightmare. A nightmare borne of Arcann's lightsaber spearing fully through his body, and the brush with death that followed.

"...where...?"

His voice was cracked, barely a whisper, but it was all he could muster. Everything felt heavy and leaden. Lana choked back a wobbling little noise, tears standing unshed in her eyes, but she tried to smile.

"In the medbay on a planet called Odessen, close to the Unknown Regions," she explained, her expression strained but intensely relieved. "...you've been unconscious for almost a week now. We...we didn't think you were going to wake up."

There was a beat of silence, this information processing at an achingly slow pace, and then another voice echoed, as if coming from down a hallway. Another familiar voice, weary with worry.

"Lana, who are you talking- kriffing hell."

A blur of brown and red whirled around to the other side of his berth, the glint of metal at one temple enough to give away the game even before the hazy vision of post-injury could clear enough to let him see who it was. Theron strangled a sob as he skidded to a stop, relief pouring from him in waves.

"Stars. I thought-" Theron cut himself off midsentence, reaching for Lana with one hand even as he brought the other to Corrain's face, cupping one cheek tenderly. His hand was pleasantly cool against the fevered icyhot of Corrain's skin. And he was- he was alive. And well.

They were both alive and well, and the dream had been just that. A dream.

"...you're both okay..." Corrain breathed again, closing his eyes and leaning into Theron's grasp with an exhausted sigh. "...both okay..."

Theron and Lana both laughed at that, the sound tight and incredulous, but heartachingly fond.

"You're one to talk."