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saintsir4n · 1 year ago

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9. BETRAYAL

WARNING: VIOLENCE, GUNS AND BLOOD

"YOU bastard!" Carson pushed him back. She didn't stop, she kept pushing and shoving, sobbing as she did so. Brian let her, watching with glistening eyes, feeling her pain, sadness and distress pound against his chest. "I hate you!" It wasn't the truth and they both knew it. Brian gently caught her grasp, but she shoved him off, "Get off of me, Brian!"

"Sonny! Carson," he said quieter, ignoring the onlookers. "Everythin' I said about you was real. About us, I would never lie about that."

She let out a yell, "You're lyin'. That's what you do, it's what they do. You all lie."

"I swear to God I'm not. You have to believe me," he tried, but she angrily shook her head, lip quivering and body trembling with heartbreak. "Please, you have to believe me, Sonny. But right now, this isn't about you and me," he said, not realising the power behind his words. "Dom's out there and he's about to pull a job and we're runnin' out of time." Carson didn't want to listen but he left her no choice, "Those truckers, they're not layin' down anymore. And you know, maybe they'll make it out tonight, but every single law enforcement agency in California's coming down on 'em." and just like that, Carson tensed up. "If you don't want anythin' to happen to Dom, to Letty, to Leon, to Vince," more tears coated her face and Brian wanted nothing more than to wipe them away."

Carson looked down, head pounding with all this new information, trying to decipher the real from the fake. She couldn't look at him, she couldn't stand to be around him. If only she listened before, to Vince, to Leon, hell even Keelie had prior convictions about the guy and she ignored it.

It's like Brian knew what she was thinking, "You have to just get in that car with me right now. You have to help me. Sonny –" he dropped her nickname when he was met with a harsh glare. "You are the only person that can help me right now. Please. Please, help me."

And that's how Carson ended up in Brian's car, looking everywhere else as he sped down the road. Mia wasn't in danger, she was going to Keelie's and that was one less person she had to worry about. Jesse was missing and the rest of the team were –

"Carson," Brian pressed pulling her out of the wave of worry she was drowning in.

"Civics are stashed somewhere outside of Thermal," she informed, voice dry and raspy from all the crying. He winced after hearing her speak.

It added to his guilt.

She stared down at the map with eyes bloodshot, making her wish she still had her glasses but they went along with his cover.

"And they wouldn't double back, and Highway 10's just way too well patrolled." Brian replied, glancing between her and the empty road, "So, what does that leave us with then?"

"That leaves us with all of this," she managed to reply, briefly holding up the map for him to see just as he reached for his phone, dialling a number and pressing it to his ear.

"Yeah, this is Officer Brian O'Conner," he announced, making Carson flinch and look away. It sounded like poison. His name was fake, she realised. "Serial number 34762. I need a cell phone trace. Carson, what's the cell number?" he didn't receive an answer, he could see the tears in her eyes. She was surprised she had any left. "Come on, Carson. She needs Dom's cell phone number now."

Carson scoffed, snatching the phone from his hand, much to his shock and uttered the number, "323-555-6439."

Brian wished he could've explained it all differently, but there was no time, "Thank you." he sighed when she tossed the phone back to him, he pressed it to his ear again, "Yeah, you get that?"

Carson tossed her head back, wishing, or needing it all to be a dream. She tried blocking out his voice as the phone rang again but it was impossible.

So when he hung up, he carefully took the map from her lap, "Let me see this." His eyes darted between it and the road a few times. "All right, I think we're about 40 miles away."

"So, what are you gonna do?" Carson asked, if she was going to have to listen to his voice, she wanted to at least get answers. So when he didn't say anything she repeated, "What are you gonna do?" she let out a humourless laugh when he remained silent, staring ahead as he sped down the road. "Okay, if you won't answer that, listen to this. All the calls you took in private. All the questionin', the secrecy, the intense mood swings, look I knew there was somethin' wrong. I felt it in my gut, but I put it aside and ignored it because I starting to love... Shit, I was fallin' for you."

His mouth gaped and his heart swelled, "Love?"

He sounded so hopeful and she happily put an end to that.

"Loved... it's past tense now you fool," she snapped. God she hadn't been this angry in years and Brian felt the full force of that anger, he couldn't hide. He was defenceless against his... ex-girlfriend, "You used me, you were usin' me this entire time, I'm so naive to think that you could ever love me."

His grip on the wheel tightened, "Baby, I do, I love you, these feelings are real, I didn't think it would happen."

She snapped her head towards him, "Fuck you." She completely disregarded his confession. He was lying, everything he says is a lie.

"That's not what I meant," he tried, heart beating out of its chest. "The time we spent together, was more than enough to show me how much I care about you, how much I was fallin' in love with you. I mean fuck, even my boss could see it."

After punching one of his co-workers in the face due to the derogatory way they spoke about Carson made it clear to his sergeant and captain that he was in way too deep.

The Baker racer just couldn't believe him, not about something as serious as love.

"Hurtin' you was never my intention," he exclaimed, gutted that they were losing what they had. "It was the last thing I wanted."

"Nah, but it was still on your list right?" She mumbled, scoffing as she watched the dark roads breeze by. "You had another life, you have another life, it might not be some white picket fence, but it's a badge and another name."

The only thing stopping his head from bowing in shame was the tinge of light immersing through the night.

"The raid on Tran's house, that was you right?" Brian wordlessly nodded, annoyed at the mention of the man. Carson couldn't believe it. "So what? You and you're pigs weren't gonna stop until we were all behind bars?" she didn't want an answer to that. "Officer O'Conner... are you incapable of tellin' the truth? All those calls you were gettin', they were your little cop friends right?" she shook her head, lie after lie after lie. And to think she was comfortable sleeping with him, beside him and it was all part of the game, his role. "I can't believe you."

"Everything you feel, or felt is what I feel. It was real, what we have is real. You don't have to believe anythin' else but believe that please."

His pleading was nothing to her, even though she wanted so much to forget everything and restart she couldn't. He betrayed her. The team. The family.

"Vince was right, Keke knew somethin' was up with you..." and just when he went to argue, she spat out, "Just drive and save my family, that's the least you can do."

They soon reached northbound 86, night bled until dusk. Down the road, Carson noticed several vehicles. Panic coursed through her, seeing the semi-truck with black cars in front and behind it.

"Shit," she cursed as the black car stopped and Brian sped up, pulling up next to the truck, and that's when she saw Vince, hanging from the side, arm caught in a thread of wire, while a fresh bullet wound gaped open. "Oh my God!"

"Here," Brian said, about to hop out of the window, "Take the wheel." She didn't hesitate and took it, so worried so she did what she was told. "Put your foot on the gas. I'm gonna get him. Put your foot on the gas!"

"Okay, okay!" Carson yelled, leaning over, placing her foot on the gas as she took control from the passenger seat. It was an awkward angle for her.

"Come on Carson. Keep it steady," she heard him.

"Okay, got it!" Carson tried not to panic more and stayed composed, seeing through her peripheral as Brian couched on the frame of the door.

Vince was injured and she couldn't let him down not when she allowed Brian in.

"Hey, he's havin' a hard time holdin' on!" Brian shouted. "Get me a little closer!" Carson drifted. "Closer!"

"I am!"

"Hold it right there!"

"Go!" Carson shouted and Brian threw himself onto the side of the truck. She used it as a chance to slip into the driver's seat. She took a peek to see the blonde firmly holding onto the truck. Hearing him shout at Vince wasn't comforting even if it helped him get his hand free.

Brian held up his body.

Carson hadn't been this scared since her father passed.

"Carson, come a little closer!" she shifted the car, a little shakily this time. "Carson, get closer!" she did, eyes pooling with tears, "Come on! Come on, Vince! Here we go!"

Vince was suddenly thrown on top of the car, somehow Carson extended his arm and helped him slide into the passenger seat, whimpering when he held onto his bleeding side.

"It's okay, you're already V –" A gunshot ripped through the air, cutting off Carson's reassurance. It happened just as Brian jumped onto the car, gripping the windshield as the truck rammed into the side making Carson lose control, drawing it to a halt on the side of the dusty road. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

She panted, completely stunned by what happened, she tried comforting Vince but he was mumbling to himself, going in and out of consciousness.

Brian rushed over to the driver's side, throwing open the door and checking Carson for any injuries, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asked desperately, worried that she wasn't speaking, only blinking in a slight daze.

Brain cupped her face, and his touch brought her back as did the sound of Vince's groan.

She rushed out, pushing past the blonde, they helped Vince out of the car and further out so they were surrounded by the desert-like ground.

"You're okay," she breathed out, trying to convince Vince as well as herself. "It's gonna be okay," she repeated. Brian wrapped his wound with his belt, trying to apply pressure just as a black car came to a halt with Leon, Letty, and Dom. The guys got out, and Leon stayed to check on Letty, leaving Dom to rush over to Vince. "You're gonna be okay."

Carson didn't even feel her zip-up hoodie being removed, she only saw it around the wound, soaking up the blood that was now on her hands.

"Come on, Vince!" Brain shouted, "Hang in there. Come on!" Dom dropped to his knees beside him, casting a fearful look at Carson as she kept muttering the same thing over and over again. "If we don't get him an ambulance in ten minutes, he's dead." The blonde's gaze darted over to Carson, "Hey, Carson. Sonny," Brian had to yell, snapping her out of her trance and putting her hands onto the belt and hoodie, holding it in place. "Hold this, Just like that. Don't let go. Hold his arm."

"Vincent please, just hold on!" Carson choked back her sobs.

Dom was doing everything he could to help but Vince started coughing.

Brian pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear. "Yeah. Yeah, this is Officer Brian O'Conner." Dom turned to him instantly, face slapped with betrayal as he stared in shock. Brian apologetically held eye contact with Dom as he continued. "I'm off-duty L.A.P.D. I need a Life Flight rollout right away. My 20 is, uh, Highway 86, mile marker 147."

Dom knew it was true from Carson's tear-stained cheeks and the heartbreak tattooed on her face.

Brian held his phone with his shoulder, grabbing onto Vince's arm once again. "I got one trauma victim, about 24 years of age. Six feet, maybe 200 pounds." Dom couldn't look away, disgusted and angry by what was revealed. "He's got a real deep laceration to his right arm with arterial bleeding."

When Vince began convulsing, only then did Dom turn back to him, hoping that he would pull through.

"He's gotta -- a shotgun wound. Close range to his left flank. Yeah. Yeah, and he's going into shock." Brian hung up, aiding the injured guy.

Carson looked up, shakily sighing when a helicopter neared in the sky.

Minutes passed and Vince was strapped onto a stretcher moving him quickly to the helicopter, with Brian's help.

Carson stood afar, motionless with the memories of the night flashing through her mind. Leon pulled up with Letty and Dom started walking toward the car.

It was then that Brian stared at her, pleadingly, but she cast him a pained look and shook her head, it hurt her to do so, but he hurt her even more.

So when Dom shouted for her to get in the car, she did it without regret.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

this has got me crying alongside carson. (ignore how long their relationship was. let's say it was a month or so) and i feel like you can fall in love in just that short space of time. lmaoo, i catch feelings after an interaction. carson and brian were love, but it's unfortunate it had to be this way.

and although what they had was cute, he was lying to her and had been since the very beginning. she knew something was wrong, it was her gut feeling and her dad told her to never ignore that.

we've got one more chapter left, i hope you have enough tissues for that.

#wattpad #fanfic #black reader #brian o’conner x carson baker #carsonbaker #brian and sonny #sonnybaker #fastandfurious #fast and the furious #brianoconnerfanfic #brian o’conner x black!reader #brian o’conner x reader #brian o’conner #2001 #y2k #pink #black racer #stereolove

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justicefanged · 7 months ago

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Though the ocean’s tides can calm—they can be stilled for a moment, withdrawn from the shore—it is nature’s law that the waters will eventually rise again. It is natural, it is persistent, and it is only a fact of the world; the Moonstone had been felled, but it isn’t long before he rises again.

And he does so with a purpose—by chance, upon entry, he had found reason to believe that the Mad Dog had arrived before him (though, he hadn’t an opportunity to confirm—injured and whatnot). Valter stayed put, of course—he knew the nature of injury—but as soon as he was able:

“ So it is you. ”

The corners of his lips upturn, a mocking thing as it realizes the situation. “ I thought I’d seen a pathetic fool when I first entered—I hadn’t expected to have that hunch confirmed. ”

He’d fought for the Deer, Valter recalls (or rather: he reasons, based off of all the propagandizing). The Moonstone had elected to join the Lions in part because of that—because in what world would he choose to fight alongside him?—but it was also relevant because that was the house that Valter had pitted his vengeance against. His track record across mock battles was imperfect, marred only by the Deer he had fought; the Mad Dog was simply another nuisance that had gathered itself under that banner.

Assuming the other’s allegiance wasn’t temporary. (It didn’t really matter in truth.)

“ So who defeated you, hm? ” (A moment: eyes widen as though curious.) “ I’d like to bet it was a child, wasn’t it? ”

Coming to in a med tent was never a fantastic experience, but it really couldn't get any worse after seeing Valter make his way over with that smarmy look on his face. He wasn't about to take whatever bullshit this guy had to spout while laying down, so he quickly rose to his feet with barely restrained irritation.

"Damn, guess there's no safeguarding against every disease out here if they let you in, huh?"

He could tell the bastard was here to gloat, even though it was obvious he hadn't just stepped in here to check up on anyone out of the kindness of his heart.

Ha, heart. Yeah, right.

"You fuckin' wish--" Linus bit out, not hesitating to get up into the other man's space and bump him back a bit. "Nah, some woman with red hair and snark out the ass. Just remember a flash of light and then her fuckin' axe layin' me out." Still annoyed him, because it stank of magic being used as a distraction to get the upper hand, but he was out of it and there was nothing he could do about it.

Even if he was still raring to go and capable of carrying on the fight, that's not how this worked. Unfortunately.

"'Nd what about you, asshole? Guessin' you bullied some poor kid if you're swaggerin' 'round the medical tents like you're hot shit."

#toaboel2024 #[ answered ask ]#[another late response but linus is so tempted to chuck valter out of the tent & into a horse trough]#[ BOEL 2024: 1 ]

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nikolasongsa · 1 year ago

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When Julius Fabricius, Sub-Prefect of the Weald, In the days of Diocletian owned our Lower River-field, He called to him Hobdenius—a Briton of the Clay, Saying: "What about that River-piece for layin' in to hay?"

And the aged Hobden answered: "I remember as a lad My father told your father that she wanted dreenin' bad. An' the more that you neeglect her the less you'll get her clean. Have it jest as you've a mind to, but, if I was you, I'd dreen."

So they drained it long and crossways in the lavish Roman style — Still we find among the river-drift their flakes of ancient tile, And in drouthy middle August, when the bones of meadows show, We can trace the lines they followed sixteen hundred years ago.

Then Julius Fabricius died as even Prefects do, And after certain centuries, Imperial Rome died too. Then did robbers enter Britain from across the Northern main And our Lower River-field was won by Ogier the Dane.

Well could Ogier work his war-boat—well could Ogier wield his brand— Much he knew of foaming waters—not so much of farming land. So he called to him a Hobden of the old unaltered blood, Saying: "What about that River-piece; she doesn't look no good ?"

And that aged Hobden answered "'Tain't for me to interfere. But I've known that bit o' meadow now for five and fifty year. Have it jest as you've a mind to, but I've proved it time on ' time, If you want to change her nature you have got to give her lime!"

Ogier sent his wains to Lewes, twenty hours' solemn walk, And drew back great abundance of the cool, grey, healing chalk. And old Hobden spread it broadcast, never heeding what was in't— Which is why in cleaning ditches, now and then we find a flint.

Ogier died. His sons grew English—Anglo-Saxon was their name— Till out of blossomed Normandy another pirate came; For Duke William conquered England and divided with his men, And our Lower River-field he gave to William of Warenne.

But the Brook (you know her habit) rose one rainy autumn night And tore down sodden flitches of the bank to left and right. So, said William to his Bailiff as they rode their dripping rounds: "Hob, what about that River-bit—the Brook's got up no bounds ?"

And that aged Hobden answered: "'Tain't my business to advise, But ye might ha' known 'twould happen from the way the valley lies. Where ye can't hold back the water you must try and save the sile. Hev it jest as you've a mind to, but, if I was you, I'd spile!"

They spiled along the water-course with trunks of willow-trees, And planks of elms behind 'em and immortal oaken knees. And when the spates of Autumn whirl the gravel-beds away You can see their faithful fragments, iron-hard in iron clay.

Georgii Quinti Anno Sexto, I, who own the River-field, Am fortified with title-deeds, attested, signed and sealed, Guaranteeing me, my assigns, my executors and heirs All sorts of powers and profits which—are neither mine nor theirs,

I have rights of chase and warren, as my dignity requires. I can fish—but Hobden tickles—I can shoot—but Hobden wires. I repair, but he reopens, certain gaps which, men allege, Have been used by every Hobden since a Hobden swapped a hedge.

Shall I dog his morning progress o'er the track-betraying dew ? Demand his dinner-basket into which my pheasant flew ? Confiscate his evening faggot under which my conies ran, And summons him to judgment ? I would sooner summons Pan.

His dead are in the churchyard—thirty generations laid. Their names were old in history when Domesday Book was made; And the passion and the piety and prowess of his line Have seeded, rooted, fruited in some land the Law calls mine.

Not for any beast that burrows, not for any bird that flies, Would I lose his large sound counsel, miss his keen amending eyes. He is bailiff, woodman, wheelwright, field-surveyor, engineer, And if flagrantly a poacher—'tain't for me to interfere.

"Hob, what about that River-bit ?" I turn to him again, With Fabricius and Ogier and William of Warenne. "Hev it jest as you've a mind to, but"—and here he takes command. For whoever pays the taxes old Mus' Hobden owns the land.

-The Land, "Diversity of Creatures"

#Rudyard Kipling #Poachers #Poaching #Wild nature #Poem #English Poems

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selintemel · 2 years ago

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six feet under / a self para

They're playin' our sound Layin' us down tonight And all of these clouds Cryin' us back to life But you're cold as a night

trigger warnings: death, police & physical abuse mention

“Selin Temel? We’d like to ask you some questions about Vivian Hayes. I’m sure you’ve already seen the news. We’ve heard around town that you two had a... complicated relationship. Best friends, were you?”

The words rang in her head as she stood on her front door, gripping it tightly as she stared up at the two -- policemen? detectives? -- in front of her. “I’m not answerin’ anythin’ without my lawyer present,” Selin immediately said, not caring if that made her sound heartless or cruel. If anything, people should come to expect that to be her norm, especially when it came to strangers trying to butt into her business.

She didn’t shut down when it came to her emotions. She always, always lashed out. It was one of the reasons why her friendships had been through the ringer lately, and she should be lashing out now, but this all just... didn’t seem real. Just yesterday, she went to Vivi’s to try and repair their friendship, because out of everyone in the world, she was one of the few Selin couldn’t bear to lose.

Vivi was... a light. The brightest light. An angel, if she’d ever seen one. Always putting others before herself. Had the purest heart Selin had ever seen. She might have lost Jake. She might have lost Amoni. Selin didn’t want to lose Vivi. She couldn’t. That woman was her best friend. She had stuck by her, even when Selin couldn’t bear the humiliation from her father’s trial. Vivi held her hand when she bared it all and showed the bruises to her face instead of just the pictures her brother took. Vivi allowed her the space and time to grieve the person Selin could never be again. Brought all the cake when she just wanted a quiet night in because she hated the way people stared, even when she tried so hard to cover up. She never felt judged by Vivi -- not for the sudden decision in ending her marriage, not for living with Lukas so soon after serving Dae the divorce papers, not for all the tears she shed, not for the guilt she felt for standing by while her father hurt her mother and only doing something when he had laid his hands on her.

Vivi listened to it all, even with Selin’s misplaced anger, and loved her anyway. Vivi welcoming her back as a friend felt like coming home, something Selin knew she didn’t deserve but wanted anyway because try as she might to push everyone away, Vivi was her constant.

And now she was gone.

“We understand. We’re just trying to see if you know anything that might help us find whoever did this to her.”

“Isn’t that your fuckin’ job? To find the fuckin’ asshole who did this and put them behind bars?” Selin snapped and before she could slam the door in their faces, one of the policemen looked down at his notepad, causing the curiosity in her to win as she wondered what the hell was written on there about her. About Vivi. Her mind was already running towards how her family -- who absolutely adored Vivi -- had enough connections to find the best private investigators on this side of the country, which was a damn good thing because Selin had absolutely no trust in the law enforcement of this fucking town.

“Where were you last night?”

The directness of the question caught her off guard and all Selin could do was scoff. “I was right here. At home. With my boyfr--” She paused before inhaling sharply. “With Lukas. You can ask him yourself. He’s right--”

“Were you here the whole night?”

“Well, I-- No, I--” For the first time that night, Selin didn’t feel the anger that had bubbled up that this happened to Vivi, of all people. She didn’t feel the sadness that she knew would hit her like a wall later on. She felt fear. They honestly couldn’t think she was behind this?? “I went out for a while because we were low on drinks. I went to Nightrest Liquor. You can ask the cashier herself. I went there, bought drinks then came home,” she said, her heart thudding in her chest as the realization dawned on her.

“What was your rela--”

“Lawyer,” Selin immediately said, masking her expression because she knew she had already said enough.

“We just wanted to--”

“Lawyer,” she repeated. “When my lawyer is available, I’ll have her give your office a call. Until then, you’d be better off actually doin’ your jobs and puttin’ whoever killed my best friend behind bars. Good night, officers,” Selin said, allowing herself the small satisfaction of slamming her front door in her faces before turning around and resting her back against it, slowly sliding down to the floor as the entirety of the situation hit her, causing her to bend over as she strangled in a breath.

Vivi was dead... and people think she killed her.

#this is why that song has been on repeat you're welcome #( self para )

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dxrkenedheights · 1 year ago

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★・・・・・・★

It's natural for Ryan to give a certain look to whoever mentions his brothers, and particularly the Cross brothers can become easily irked when it comes to Elliot. The situation their little brother faces only exasperates it, but Ryan can read quickly that there's no malice in Nora's observation. She's also not wrong. "Yeah, those two always been right for each other. Think he's kinda...well, almost himself again now she's here." and despite the heaviness of Cece still missing, Ryan is thankful that Isla is by Elliot's side again. Snicking about Jack, he can only puff out a thoughtful air as he listens. There's not much that can be said other than sheer hatred now running through Ryan's veins. Before, there was a sadness there but it was quickly replaced. "Say that again. He's layin' down the law like he damn wrote it. I was thinkin' he was just like it to us but I guess he's just that kinda guy." which he isn't sure makes it better or worse. "He's a fuckin' asshole and if he does ever talk to you, you can tell him that from me."

Nora gives a little nod because she won't take back her warning, and she thinks that's enough for Ryan to get the picture. Hurt Tammie, get hurt. It's as simple as that to Nora. As they shovel, she listens to Ryan's words, a slight smile twitching at the mention of Hunter and Elliot, glad that the younger Cross has stayed close to his brothers all these years. "Guess someone's gotta. He's always been a bit up here," she says, gesturing to her head. Elliot's a thinker, or he was during their short time together, and while that's not bad, she could see him thinking himself into circles. "And now he's got Isla too...I'm sure it's a weight lifted." And another added with the absence of his daughter and Isla's sister. "I'll stop by this week then." Nora nods, glad for Isla's return, tough lamenting the circumstances it's under. She scoffs at his next question and waves a hand, shoveling with a bit more intention now. "He makes y'all look like you're on a beach vacation." She used to think the Crosses were intense, but their cousin is another level. "We don't really talk much. From what I hear, he aint winning any favors with the fam either...his sister's nice. She stays in our cabin." And she seems as different from Jack as can be. "How's working with him? He all G.I. Joe at the Castle?"

#ryancross.talk #c: ryan cross w. nora jones 001

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my-mt-heart · 3 years ago

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Caryl prompt-I always wonder about those first days at the quarry. I know you did an AU recently set in s1-but can we get a peek a caryl’s first real encounter from your POV? I always imagined that Daryl would have given her some food to cook for the camp. And he’s totally flexing in front of Ed when he does it lol

Love your writing ! ❤️

Hmm...something like this maybe?

Daryl sits at the edge of camp, far away from the rest of the group, including his own brother who’s futilely trying to flirt with Andrea.

Daryl scoffs to himself, continuing to skin the squirrels he hunted. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Carol walking toward him. Her steps are hesitant, as if she’s trying to work up the nerve.

Daryl: I look like one of the geeks? Ain’t gonna bite you.

His harsh tone doesn’t do much to reassure Carol, but she approaches anyway. Daryl looks her up and down through narrowed eyes, playing the role he knows she expects him to.

Daryl: What do you want?

Carol’s shoulders flinch ever-so-slightly, but beyond that, she seems undeterred.

Carol: To say I appreciate you going out there to hunt for everyone.

That catches Daryl by surprise. He isn’t used to hearing anyone express their gratitude for him.

Carol: I thought I could do my part and offer to cook those for you. If you want.

Daryl: Know some fancy recipe for squirrel?

Carol: No, but I know how to make a stew. Maybe disguise the taste. We could pretend it’s chicken.

Daryl: Like squirrel better.

Carol’s mouth twitches. She isn’t sure if he’s joking or not.

Daryl: Fine. Here.

He shoves the carcasses at her. She nods at him and starts to take them toward the fire pit. Daryl watches her go, his hackles raising when she’s halted by Ed. They mutter back and forth until Ed aggressively takes hold of her arm, forcing her to drop the squirrel meat.

Something shifts in Daryl, feeling a sudden rush of anger. He storms over.

Daryl: Hey.

Carol and Ed both look at him in surprise.

Daryl: The hell is my dinner doin’ layin’ on the ground?

He picks the carcasses up dramatically.

Ed: Get somebody’s else’s wife to do your cooking. Mine’s busy.

He tries to pull Carol along.

Daryl: Hey.

He glowers at Ed menacingly through the side of his eye.

Daryl: You don’t wanna starve tonight, you best let her get to it. Or you can hunt for your own damn food. See how well your ass does fumblin’ around in the dark.

Enraged, Ed’s about to lunge at him. Merle steps between them.

Merle: Whoa now. I know you ain’t tryin’ to start shit with my little brother.

He sizes Ed up, pupils fully dilated.

Shane: Hey!

Shane marches over with a clear air of authority. Daryl suddenly feels small and useless surrounded by all these alphamales.

Shane: Break it up. All of ya’ll. Ed, you take your hands off this woman right now. Don’t make me tell you again.

Feeling cornered, Ed begrudgingly releases Carol and heads back to his tent, where a frightened Sophia is poking her head out.

Merle: Officer tryhard to the rescue.

Shane: Gettin’ high again, Merle?

Merle: You gonna arrest me? Or hell, I guess you could just shoot me. Ain’t no laws anymore, Officer.

Merle sneers at him. Shane shoves him along.

Shane: Don’t tempt me.

He looks back at Daryl, assessing whether he poses a threat. Deciding otherwise, he continues along with Merle.

Daryl studies a shaken Carol, feeling a sense of familiarity that he can't express in words. He tries to hand her back the squirrels, but she just shakes her head.

Carol: I have to go check on my daughter.

She runs over to her tent, leaving Daryl at a loss.

#caryl #caryl scene #carol x daryl #twd #twd season 1

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tahitianmangoes · 4 years ago

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The Story of Ephraim Bird

Sister Amata woke suddenly. She's not the type to wake during the night so suddenly, usually a heavy sleeper but that night felt different somehow. She left her sleeping quarters, the stone floors freezing under bare feet.

The sound was faint, so faint hat she half wondered whether it was in her head but she followed it, somehow she knew she had to, right to the door of the convent. She opened it gingerly, knowing she’d be in trouble if Mother Superior caught her.

She realised, as she saw a basket on the front step of the convent that she had been woken for a reason. She knelt down beside the basket and the sound became louder; the cooing and gurgling of a baby. The baby was sleeping quite soundly, not undernourished or in distress.

Sister Amata took the baby inside and the convent decided to take care of it.

A baby boy. They called him Ephraim.

Ephraim grew up in the convent which was located a little over the border from New Austin, past Hennigan’s Stead. It was a pleasant childhood, perhaps a more sheltered childhood than most - Ephraim would help the nuns around the convent, fixing what needed fixing or running errands for them.

He realised early on that he liked to help people - he found being needed and depended upon was addictive.

He would drive the wagon to Blackwater every Sunday for the service there and studied the bible alongside the nuns back at the convent. At first he was unquestioning and took comfort in the pages of the book but as he grew, he saw other children his age whenever he went to the Macfarlane’s Ranch to get supplies or even when he drove the nuns to Strawberry for their evangelism… They always seemed so happy and normal. They had their friends and their toys and most importantly, they had their parents.

He was eleven or at the oldest twelve when he asked Sister Amata about his parents.

She smiled gently at him, slipping her arm around his shoulders and squeezing him. “I knew this day would come,” she said more to herself than Ephraim. “The truth is, dear boy, we don’t know for certain.”

Ephraim hadn’t prepared himself for this answer. He blinked up at the nun who had raised him with unwavering love, kindness and benevolence, her clear, blue eyes met Ephraim’s.

“I had my thoughts over the years…”

“Tell me..!” Ephraim pleaded almost desperately.

Sister Amata smiled kindly at the boy. “Well, there was a young woman who used to come to the church over in Blackwater. Always on her own she was but she came every Sunday without fail. I would talk to her and she was polite but never really said too much… I noticed that she was in the family way but when I asked her, poor girl started sobbin’... She wasn’t married but the man she was layin’ with was. She didn’t say much about him but he was important, that was clear and he wasn’t interested in havin’ a family with her or financing her and a baby...”

Ephraim chewed his lip. “Was she my mother?”

“I don’t know for sure, dear boy. But a few months later, sure enough you were left outside on our doorstep and that poor girl stopped coming to church.”

“What did she look like?” Ephraim asked shyly. His whole life he had searched the faces of women he didn’t know hoping to see something familiar looking back at him, hoped to run into her one day in the general store or at the butchers or even just on the trail. He dreamed about her coming to the convent to take him away with her where they would live happily together. But she never did.

When he caught his reflection in a mirror or water, he wondered what part of him was from her? Her eyes? Her mouth? And his father? Maybe the brow or nose?

He didn't look like anyone else he knew; his skin was coffee coloured suggesting maybe Mexican or Native… His eyes round and hazel, nose crooked and lips wide and full. His hair was sleek and straight, dark mahogany. He was without a doubt handsome, but what did that matter? he’d been discarded, like trash.

"Why, she looked just like you." Sister Amata answered with a wistful tone to her voice.

Ephraim did his best to stop his eyes from filming over with tears, clenching his fist in his lap so the nails dug into the soft flesh of his palm. “W-why didn’t she love me?”

Ephraim was taken aback when Sister Amata threw back her head in a light-hearted laugh. “Oh Ephraim, your mother loved you very much. She loved you enough to carry you and birth you and then to make the difficult decision to give you to people who would take care of you in a way that maybe she couldn’t.”

Ephraim swallowed, unconvinced.

"I'll let you into a secret, child, mothers don't tend to give their babies up due to lack of caring… Usually due to caring too much."

Ephraim wrinkled his nose at this. He couldn’t quite believe her, even if she was a nun.

By age thirteen, Ephraim began to question everything. If God loved everyone then why did people suffer? Those poor folk in Armadillo dying of sickness and beggars in Blackwater thankful for even a cent thrown their way. If God loved everyone, why did Ephraim’s parents abandon him?

Maybe Sister Amata could see him becoming contemptuous and jaded because she tried to talk to him, to involve him more but the more she did, the more he withdrew until, when he was fifteen, he left the convent.

He missed Sister Amata dearly, she was the closest thing to family he had and maybe ever would have. But he needed to find himself somehow and he couldn’t do that confined in the convent’s four walls.

Ephraim was naïve and didn’t know the way of the world. For that reason, he ended up falling in with gangs when he shouldn’t have but he found himself attracted to them.

A few months after he had left the convent, he found himself weary and starving, feet blistered from walking and exhausted from the relentless New Austin sun. He collapsed somewhere outside of Benedict Pass and when he awoke again, he was lying on a bedroll and could smell cooked meat. When he sat up slowly and let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the evening, he could make out a large camp. He could hear chatter and laughter. That meat smelled delicious.

“Estas despierto?”

Ephraim started, looking around wildly at where the voice had come from to see a man who must have been in his late thirties or so, he was average build with a goatee and moustache, piercing dark eyes the held him in their gaze sitting beside him on a small stool.

He repeated himself, voice deep and for some reason, cast fear in Ephraim.

“I...I don’t understand.” Ephraim stammered.

“Ah, English…” The man responded. He didn’t say anything else for a few moments and then, “are you hungry?”

Ephraim nodded hesitantly.

“Then let’s eat!”

“Eat?” Ephraim repeated.

The man raised a thick eyebrow at Ephraim, “you think I would leave you to starve? Flaco Hernandez might be a bastard, but I am not the devil.”

That was his name, Flaco Hernandez. He was the leader of a gang of ten or so men. He treated Ephraim with surprising care, feeding and watering him, letting him recuperate in the camp for as long as he needed. Flaco was unlike anyone Ephraim had ever met, he was boisterous, loud and had a presence that made most people shrink away. He fascinated Ephraim no end. And his gang, well they treated each other like brothers despite not being related in any way. But they were family.

Ephraim rode with them for a while, going as far as Mexico for a month or two before they were chased by the law back into America. During this time, Ephraim learned to shoot a gun, albeit badly at first but his aim improved over time and he would often practice with empty whiskey bottles around the camo when the others were gone.

He tasted his first alcohol and had his first smoke, even had his first kiss. He learned to kill and skin an animal, how to clean and dress a wound, how to start a fire and take care of a camp. At the age of sixteen, he felt like a man and most importantly, he felt like part of something bigger than himself. He felt accepted.

But like all good things, it ended all too soon. Something had happened that caused a rift in the group - Ephraim had learned some Spanish here and there but not enough to understand the arguments. Some of the gang left for the Del Lobo. Ephraim wanted to stay with Flaco.

Flaco sighed and told him, “you’re a good boy but Flaco has to go alone. When you’re older, come and find me.”

He was being abandoned again.

He was eighteen now and Ephraim had nothing but a horse and a revolver to his name after Flaco. He felt bitter and betrayed, his veins felt like they knotted and twisted themselves with venom. He didn’t hate Flaco for living him, he loved the man like a father and it hurt. It hurt so much that it brought stinging tears to his eyes. He spent his time in saloons, drinking until he forgot or blacked out.

Soon enough the money dried up but his thirst for booze didn’t. He was no good at pickpocketing and lacked the guts to rob a homestead without a gang to back him up but he had befriended a working girl in a saloon in Valentine who suggested that maybe he could probably charge for his services, too.

“You’re pretty and young enough and there’s plenty of lonesome fellers out here prefer a man’s touch to a woman’s.”

Ephraim thought about it for a few days. He’d been propositioned before but had been so scared that he had fled the saloon and ended up sleeping on a bench outside the general store for the night.

There were indeed plenty of lonely fellers out there, he knew that much. Sometimes they bought him drinks and talked to him, glad of the company of a handsome young man. Sometimes they laid their hand on his thigh and he would casually brush it off whilst talking to them. Not many of them tried to push it any further, one or two but Flaco had taught him how to deal with men who wouldn’t heed notice.

The need for drink made up his mind for him.

“Five dollars if you want me to jerk you off, ten if you want me to suck it and twenty-five to fuck.” Ephraim told his clients firmly. The words felt crass coming out of his mouth, never had he spoken like this before but the working girls had told him that boundaries were necessary in this business, lest he wanted to be taken advantage of.

To say he liked the work would be a lie, but he liked being close to someone even if it was for a short bit.

He could get more money in places like Saint Denis or Blackwater, steered clear of places like Strawberry where folk like him weren’t welcome. But he found that wherever he went, the men he met regardless of age or profession, were the same in a way; lonely and touch-starved like him.

Some wanted to talk, to tell him how their wives wouldn’t fuck them anymore and that they just wanted someone to hold them, others didn’t want anything but his body. Some men returned to him a few times, taking him out for dinner or a show, showering him with compliments and gifts and paying him extra; they didn’t want the sex, just the company. Somehow that was worse.

Regardless, he always felt unclean and worthless afterwards, whether they’d fucked or not, when they left and he cleaned himself up...

What would Sister Amata say if she could see him now?

The money added up nicely and he was able to afford himself fine clothes and fancy lodgings. But no amount of pretty shirts or coats could fill the emptiness that people could.

He drank more until the pain became nothing but numbness. Got into a few fights because of it and now bore the scar from a broken nose. One of his regulars cooed as they stroked the scar carefully, “you need to be more careful. Wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty face, boy.”

****

After whoring for a while, he met a mysterious woman named Madam Nazar whose intricately painted cart played music and boasted of rare oddities. She was beautiful with long dark hair and bright green eyes, Ephraim had never seen a woman quite like her before. She sold him maps of hidden treasures and when he returned to her with those things, she paid him handsomely.

He found himself on the trail a lot more because of this but it meant that he wasn’t selling himself as often and maybe that was for the better.

The trail was a lonesome place, sometimes he went days without seeing a soul and when he did, he became so excited, he wanted to greet them, lured in by the thought of having a conversation with someone other than his horse. He found out that this was not always the best thing to do, to his detriment.

One afternoon while riding through Roanoke Ridge, he came across a man who was complaining of illness. He remembered those days in the convent when he had helped the nuns and the rush of pride he got from doing so and, eager to help, hopped down from his chestnut Arabian and went to the aide of the man.

When Ephraim got closer, the man rose to his feet and pointed a gun to his face.

“Your money, now!” He demanded.

Ephraim felt violated but more importantly, stupid. So darn stupid. He handed over his money and then, when the man turned to leave, he drew the revolver that Flaco Hernandez had given him and shot him in the back.

He took his money back and whatever else the man had in his pockets.

His hunger for blood was spent but his hunger for human contact was not.

In 1898, Ephraim Bird is 23 and travels the country looking for shiny trinkets and strange tarot cards to sell to the exquisite Madam Nazar, he tries to keep away from liquor but it seems it’s a vice he can’t shake. Along the way he beds many people in whatever town he stays in, some for cash and some for lust - men or women, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that he can pretend that he is wanted by someone, even if it is for a short bit.

#my oc #ephraim bird #new oc!#rdo #rdo oc #rdr2 #tw sex work #red dead edemption 2 #flaco hernandez

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teapottroubles · 1 year ago

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( About to recite the entire ship manual to him. ) Let's say, theoretically, we stay right here where we are, we don't move, aye? Well, that would mean our engines wouldn't run, which doesn't sound bad sure, but then, two years time when we return ta base, the engines won't go! You wanna know why the engines won't go Pin? Because they require motion, and heat to stay in workin' order. Where oh where is a spaceship's engine going to get heat with no propulsion, no momentum, and no gravity accelerated ventilation, hm ? It's not possible! It's colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra out there!! I cannae just change the laws of physics so ye can stay sedentary !

( Hang on. Give her a second. )

Captain..... Pin, layin' in place for two DAYS isn't healthy. Do I need ta strong arm ye down to Medbay ?

Captain. I can tell ye right now, that would not be good for the ship.

#✧ inside the image of your light ( alice )#✧2econd 2ight 2eer ( illiterate/crack )#✧multimoth: pin #sorry. something wrong with her

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second-chance-stray · 3 years ago

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(Split Ends) RP Log: Cravs, Riylli, and Rising revisit Baldur in Limsa Lominsa.

Cravendy Hound - After entrusting Baldur, the ill-fated boy, to the healers based in Limsa Lominsa, the trio decided to head back to the company...at Crav's insistence, really. Every extra second spent in the maritime city was a second too much. And so, after taking the aetheryte home, we find the three on the company lawn.

Riylli Aliapoh lets out a stretch as they arrive, a bit groggy from the teleporting. "It's a shame you missed it Cravs, Rising ran in while I was castin' one of my spells and I knocked her a clean 20 fulms in the air!" She said, grinning with a bit too much pride. She then seemed to remember Rising was still there. "...By the way, you okay?"

Rising Lotus was patched up after their encounter as well, her right arm was coating in bandages, along with some other patches along the exposed skin of her body. She winced with each step, the healers picking all the needles from her form and now leaving her body to do the rest of the healer. She merely grumbled as Riylli spoke to her, putting her weight on her spear to take some of it off her leg.

Cravendy Hound: "Magic and melee don't mix, Riylli. But, er, 'ow are ye 'oldin' up, Risin'? That injury ye got looked somethin' fierce."

Riylli Aliapoh rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, taking that as a 'no'. She turned back to Cravs, deciding to ignore the issue like a mature adult. "So... Y'wanna tell us what that was all about? Why're you goin' so far to help this guy's kid?"

Rising Lotus: "...I'll be fine. Kinda a feel like layin' down." she glanced at Riylli, nodding afterwards "Aye. I'm curious 'bout that too."

Cravendy Hound: "I'm still confused 'ow a cactaur of all things made it to La Noscea. Could be a freak accident, but somethin' about it doesn't sit right with me." She sighs in thought, brow knitted and bothered. "....Ah. Uh. I guess I owe ye all an explanation."

Riylli Aliapoh plopped herself down on the step, ready for a story

Cravendy Hound: "Oi, get up! I-I'm not gonna bore ye with all the details," Cravs stammers. "Look. I made a promise to the kid's father. 'is dyin' wish was to see his son grow strong, with his own strength."

Riylli Aliapoh tilted her head. "...Y'know... It aint really his own strength if we had to step in to help... You sure you should be meddlin' like this? I mean, it was just a little cactus thing"

Rising Lotus "...Someone might not want that. I remember the merchant mentionin' somethin' 'bout some folk not carin' for him or his family or somethin'." she shrugs, wincing in pain afterwards "...also cactuar are from Thanalan, don't know how one would of gotten there."

Cravendy Hound nods to Riylli. "I agree, and originally, I just wanted to see if 'e was doin' okay. But this cactaur business...I think someone /else/ is meddlin' with 'im. And if we meddle to remove the meddler, then it'll cancel out, right?"

Riylli Aliapoh 's ears perked up in interest. "Y'mean someone left that cactus out there to take the kid out? Who exactly was this kid's sire? Why's he got so many enemies that would go so far as to try and kill his kid after he's already gone?"

Cravendy Hound shifts in place, heat under the collar. Unusually, she speaks slowly and thoughtfully, as if the wrong word could set off a mine. "Kid's father was a pirate captain, but one with...'onor, I suppose. Steal from the rich, give to the poor. Which lead 'im to rob from the same, powerful set of targets."

Cravendy Hound: "If ye got raided by Captain Thorne, ye didn't -just- lose yer shite. It was a kind of...a mark. A blow to yer pride, and that didn't sit well the rich."

Riylli Aliapoh thinks about this for a moment. "...So if we know who the targets are, why don't we just hop over an' kick their teeth in? Bet that'd gettem to stop messin' with the kid!"

Rising Lotus huffs, closing her eyes tightly for a few moments before glaring at Cravs. "...So what's gonna happen when these powerful targets learn we're helpin' the kid? Last thing I need is to be marked like the boy, or if they learn we work for Heartwood an' create problems for the others."

Cravendy Hound: "That's step one. Gotta find who's still got it out for the kid, out of a handful of options." She then turns to Rising. "As long as we don't do anythin' illegal we should be alright. And we can threaten to expose 'ow they torment a kid to keep them from doin' anything to us."

Cravendy Hound: "Nothin' illegal, alright? That means even if they're an ass, we can't just kick their teeth in." Cravs lectures to Riylli.

Riylli Aliapoh frowned. "It aint illegal if they're a bad guy! And ain’t kickin' teeth in how pirates settle their differences anyroad?"

Rising Lotus tried to give Cravs a skeptical look, but just ended up grimacing from the shift of posture, then just looked exhausted. "That ain't how it work if you're rich. Can get away with anythin'."

Cravendy Hound: "That's not 'ow the law works! And while that may be 'ow we settle problems on water, on land...under the Admiral's stink eye, we'd probably cause more trouble doin' that."

Cravendy Hound: "The rich still 'ave their pride. I'm thinkin' if word got out that the bugger pesters a goddamn child for 'is late father's legacy, it'd be enough to twist their arm."

Riylli Aliapoh looked to Rising, then to Cravs, and then up to the sky as she let out an exasperated sigh. "...Y'see? This is exactly why we Miqo'te got our own rules..." She grumbled, before finally looking back down. "Fine! We'll do it your way! But if any of 'em tries to swing at me it's fair game, yeah?"

Rising Lotus grumbled, pretty much done with the day. "Well in the case it does go tits up, we can handle ourselves much better than that boy I 'spose."

Cravendy Hound nods. What an exhausting day. "...well. Ye look like ye could use two days worth of sleep, Risin'. That's all I 'ad to say."

Riylli Aliapoh hops to her feet and dusts off her pants. "Alright! Just gimme a shout whenever you get a lead or whatever. Always happy to lend my skills to a good cause!" She flashes Cravs a grin, and very pointedly tries not to look over to the wounded Rising

Rising Lotus "...Aye. You know how to reach us. Though we ought to expect somethin' worse than a cactuar next time." she sighed and started making her way toward the door.

(Cravendy Hound) seems a good place to timeskip to next scene? any last posts and then :P )) (Rising Lotus) I'm good!)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Timeskip ready! (Cravendy Hound) AAAHH that outfit!!! )) (Cravendy Hound) the blade harness xD )) (Rising Lotus) Oh yeah I don't think you've seen her in it yet!)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (No fair, its so hard to get glams for Riylli ;-; (Cravendy Hound) it looks extremely good )) (Cravendy Hound) *timeskips in same outfit* xD )) (Cravendy Hound) HERE we can at least start in the company so it doesn't feel like, literally seconds after xD )) (Rising Lotus) Guess we'll have to have a fashion montage for Riylli at some point)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Yknow what, its totally canon that RIylli only has one set of clothes (Cravendy Hound) ahahaha )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Oh, I DO actually have a glamour change! (Rising Lotus) so pick out something new then we can figure out how she got it!)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (alakazam (Rising Lotus) mask (Cravendy Hound) fjkdslf just the gloves?! )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Theyre bandages ^o^ Shes been practicing the fire spell! (Rising Lotus) Damn I thought you were just going to throw that mask on xD))

Cravendy Hound - A week later, Cravs has reached out to Riylli and Rising for company (or maybe help?) again. It's related to the business in Limsa Lominsa, and she's wearing her disguise dress again. Oh boy.

Rising Lotus was eyeing the bandages wrapped around Riylli's hands. "...How's that fire spell going?"

Riylli Aliapoh grins to Rising. "It's goin' well! I got the basic formula down, just gotta work on intensity and duration!" She beams proudly, giving Rising a bandaged thumbs up.

Cravendy Hound: "That...looks painful."

Riylli Aliapoh gives a mock bow. "You gotta suffer for art y'know"

Rising Lotus couldn't help but smirk at Riylli's enthusiasm. "...We'll get it down before you touch anythin' we fish up..or the lava." she turned her attention to Cravs, holding back a snicker at seeing her dolled up again. "You find out more 'bout the boy then?"

Cravendy Hound: "Seems ye got some more sufferin' to do then," Cravs notes in a bright tone.

Cravendy Hound: "Right, the Baldur business - I narrowed it down to a couple of names. But that's as far as I can go gatherin' information out 'ere. Thought it'd be more efficient to ask the kid 'imself. Which means." Cravs gestures to her outfit. "I'll need some escorts to talk for me once we're in Limsa again."

Riylli Aliapoh was clearly enjoying the attention, but quieted down to let Cravs speak. "Why not just talk to the kid as Cravs? If he's lost his sire, it... might be nice for him to know he's still got people close to him out there..."

Rising Lotus "Hmm...'spose maybe she doesn't want him to turn her in for the gil? If he really needs to be supportin' him an' his mom anyway." she shrugged. "Doesn't look like the type to sell out someone who's helpin' him though."

Cravendy Hound went as white as a sheet at the suggestion. "A-ah, that's...Uhh, we've got, um. A misunderstandin' between us. If 'e knew it was me, 'e'd flip out for sure. Trust me, it's easier this way." Cravs clears her throat and then hurries out before Riylli or Rising can ask further.

Cravendy Hound - The trip over is pretty awkward. If the subject was brought up again, Cravs would simply pick up the pace and pretend not to hear. And, once the trio were in Limsa, her lips were sealed, clarification frustratingly out of reach. That said, she was definitely walking somewhere with purpose.

Rising Lotus gave up askin' fairly quick, she knew she wouldn't get anywhere at the moment. She'd pry it out of her later though, one way or another. "So... you know what he'll be up to today? Or you jus' hopin' we run into him?"

Riylli Aliapoh wouldn't bring it up again, at the very least smart enough to see Cravs didn't want to talk about it. Instead, she would offer fun facts of things she had learned so far in her research. "...So, did you guys know that a forge runs hotter than lava?"

Cravendy Hound mimes holding something heavy and swinging it around. And to Riylli's fact, she gives the miqo'te a doubting look. Really?

Riylli Aliapoh nods. "Yeah! Turns out lava is only like... half as hot as your average blacksmith forge! It aint even hot enough to melt iron! Makes my job easier, but it's kinda disappointin' y'know?"

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Thank you for subscribing to Lava Facts)

Cravendy Hound desperately wants to ask if that's how Riylli has been testing her fire shield spell - by dunking her hands in a forge. Cravs moves her hands around as if dipping them in something.

Riylli Aliapoh tilts her head, unable to figure out the mimicry. "Can't you like... at least whisper or somethin' when were alone? Surely they don't got ears everywhere?"

Cravendy Hound looks around and finds it acceptably empty. "Did ye dunk yer 'ands in the forge to test yer spell?!" She whisper-yells.

Rising Lotus narrowed her eyes at Cravs "...So he's... carrying somethin'.. then puttin' it in the oven?" she seemed to be combining the conversations. Then Cravs actually spoke. "Oohh you're talkin' 'bout that. I hope you didn't do that, use a fire or somethin' first Riylli."

Riylli Aliapoh blinks at her. "What? You crazy? What if the spell failed?" She said, shaking her head. "Nah, I've been usin' a campfire! Got a problem with the magic runnin' out too fast though..." She muttered, rubbing her poor cooked hands

Cravendy Hound stifles back laughter, and pats Riylli on the back. There there.

Rising Lotus: "I can get ya some cream for that. Know a gobbie that makes some quality stuff. Don't worry it works too, used it after gettin' a nasty burn from some giant bug sparyin' me with gunk."

Riylli Aliapoh grumbles and glares up at Cravs at the treatment, but lets it slide since she couldn't tell if it was meant to be mocking or not. "...That'd be great, thanks. I don't gotta pay for it, right?"

Cravendy Hound: "Bug....gunk? Bug gunk...That sounds. Hm." Cravs raises a brow at Rising but doesn't say more.

Rising Lotus "Well I ought to considerin' how you made me a pin cushion on our last outin' together." she snickered a bit, the first time she cracked a joke about it. "But nah, he owes me one anyhow. Next time I'm up there I'll grab ya some." she gave Riylli a firm pat on the back.

Riylli Aliapoh grumbled again, but couldn't really argue back. "...Thanks." She muttered, not exactly enthused about all this back-patting she was receiving

Cravendy Hound had earlier given Rising a notepad with names written in it. One of them, hopefully, belonged to the person who was harassing the kid. Her heels clicking on the docks, Cravs would eventually lead the little crew to a dusty corner of Limsa where the kid (B) was presently practicing his form with the ax.

Cravendy Hound - The heavy ax is far too big for the kid. Every swing pulls him comically forward with the weapon. He stops his 'practice' and looks up at the approaching trio with a wide smile. "I remember you two! You helped me with that monster the other day."

(Cravendy Hound) more back pats )) (Cravendy Hound) i demand more )) (Rising Lotus) I feel like Riylli and Rising would have back pats that would eventually devolve into a hitting contest)) (Cravendy Hound) actually cravs and rising would have to squat down to pat Riylli's back ahah - otherwise it'd be a head pat )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Cravs and Rising know it's too dangerous to headpat Riylli, they'd probably get bit (Cravendy Hound) sometimes my tall friends would use my head as an arm rest.....annoyed me, and yet I can see Cravs doing that to Riylli lmao )) (Rising Lotus) I've done that to my shorter friends before xD))

Riylli Aliapoh perked up as she got recognized by the kid, offering him a friendly wave. "Hey! How are you holdin' up after all them needles?"

Rising Lotus watches the boy fling himself with his strikes, smirking with every swing. "Aye that was us." she eyed up his weapon for a few moments. "You ought to get somethin' a bit lighter by the way, gonna leave yourself open if you take too long liftin' your weapon."

Cravendy Hound - The kid bashfully itches the tip of his nose. "I'm doing fine, thanks to you all...Woke up on the softest bed I've ever been on in my life, healing expenses all covered." Baldur's eyes drift over to Cravs, and then back to Riylli and Rising. "Oh, I plan to! I'm just using this old thing because it was the only thing I could afford. Once I earn enough, I'll buy a better one...after everything else, haha."

Cravendy Hound turns away, avoiding eye contact. It's overkill given that she's wearing a mask.

Rising Lotus eyed Cravendy, she had to pay for the needle removal out of her pocket. "...well I'm sure them healers were excited for the chance to de-needle someone. Don't see many cactuar over here after all, bit strange." she nodded as he brought up upgrading his armor and weapon. "A good set of armor is jus' as important as a good weapon, smart thinkin'."

Riylli Aliapoh nudged Rising with her foot to try and bring her back to the task at hand, snatching the list out of her hands. "Hey, so... Were kinda lookin' into something, think you might be able to help us out? You know any of the names on this list?"

Cravendy Hound - Baldur nods enthusiastically, dreads bouncing on top of his head. Admiration for Rising and Riylli is practically gushing from every inch of the kid. "So that was a cactaur? I've never seen one before."

Cravendy Hound - Baldur snaps into attention. "Oh, right away! I'd be thrilled to help you two out. Let's see..." He takes the list and scans it. "Only this last one. Mindred Rot. She's who I go to if I need a loan."

Rising Lotus "Aye, I grew up 'round them, used to hit them with sticks then ru-" she glanced at Riylli as she bumped her and had the list snatched away.

(Cravendy Hound) dfsd hit them with sticks and run???? chaos child )) (Rising Lotus) She didn (Rising Lotus) didn't have toys or anything xD Played with bugs and lizards and cactuars))

Riylli Aliapoh raised her eyebrow at the name. "...'Mindred Rot'? Well that's a bad guy name if I've ever heard one." She said, nodding along until she remembered Cravs' full name. "Er... Right, anyroad, what's she like? If she lends you money she can't be that bad, right?"

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Poor riylli about to learn the horrors of capitalism)

Cravendy Hound - Baldur smiles as he hands the list back to Riylli. "Oh, yeah, her name's pretty rotten. But in some ways...she looks after me. No one else'll give my family loans."

Rising Lotus "You need to get out of the woods more..." she shook her head at Riylli's comment. She hummed at Baldur's words about the woman. "Hmm, how generous of her."

Riylli Aliapoh wrinkled her nose. "Honestly I'd rather get out of the woods less... How in the world do you lot handle that salt in the air?"

Cravendy Hound - Baldur's gaze wanders to Rising's axe, and then to Riylli's staff. "So, you two must be adventurers, huh? You think you could teach me a thing or two? Punch better, smarter, harder? Oh, and! I didn't mean to be rude." He turns to Cravs. "Who's your friend?"

Rising Lotus Grinned, giving him a nod. "Aye! Do a lot of guard an' merc work. Takin' me all over, mostly back an' forth between Idyllshire an' places though. This one is still gettin' her footin' for it though." she snickered a bit as she eyed Riylli. "Oh, an' that's Singin' Gull. She's uh...a great singer an' has to save her voice most the time. We're guardin' her on her...singing journey?"

Riylli Aliapoh puffed her chest out. "Yup! Name's Riylli, Warrior of Earth!" she declared proudly, possibly forgetting Cravs and Rising were in earshot. "I'm a master of earth magic, but I'm sure I could give you some tips! Oh, and this is..." She trails off, staring at Cravs as her mind blanks on what her alias was. Thankfully Rising was there to have her back, though the Roegadyn still earned herself a glare from her little comment

Cravendy Hound 's frown twitches slightly. Singing Gull the Singer. Really? But she goes along with it anyway.

Cravendy Hound - Baldur's mouth forms an 'o' in awe. "Idyllshire? Never even heard of the place. Sounds cool though...And magic? How would I even start?" He turns back for a second to rest his rusty axe against a crate, and then hops right back into the conversation. "Like, just think really hard and magic happens? Hrrrghhhh.."

Riylli Aliapoh shook her head at the kid. "Nah, it aint that simple. It's more like... Y'know how you can move your fingers with your mind? You basically do that, but you move your aether about instead, and get THAT aether to move the aether OUTSIDE of you, and... Honestly I might not remember all the lessons, it's kinda just a reflex at this point. But you shouldn't be wastin' your talents on magic anyroad! You're a highlander right? You're gonna have plenty of muscle when you grow up, you should use-

Riylli Aliapoh -that instead!"

Rising Lotus could talk for hours about Idyllshire, but she resisted and tried to steer the conversation back on topic, which of course meant giving Riylli a light smack to the arm to get her to focus up. "Anyway, you know were we could find this Rot lady? Gull here is lookin' for gil for her next performance an' were hopin' to find some donations."

Cravendy Hound - Baldur is trying so hard to follow Riylli's explanation, but it leaves the poor kid's brain all tangled. "Huh, what? Huh? Uhh, oh, you want to meet Miss Rot? She's usually really busy so I have to schedule in advance. But I can ask if she's free to meet you all next time."

Riylli Aliapoh sighs. "Y'mean we gotta come all the way out here again..? Fine, I guess... Not like we can just go kick the doors down and demand to talk to her after all..." She muttered, offering a small glare to Cravs out of the corner of her eye

Rising Lotus cleared her throat, glaring at Riylli as she glared at Cravs "We'd appreciate that, jus' say that..uh..an up an' comin' singer is lookin' for fundin'. " she gave Baldur a nod, hoping that selling Cravs like that would make her the perfect target for a loan shark.

Cravendy Hound looks similarly annoyed, but shakes her head no to Riylli. It's not like they could go in there with wild accusations anyway - seemed worth strategizing over first.

Cravendy Hound - With the night fast approaching, Cravs motions with her hand to signal her intention to head home. Without bothering to wave goodbye to Baldur, she walks on ahead.

Rising Lotus watches Crav hurry away. "Uh sorry..." she put her hand to her mouth to muffle her words "Sort of a diva that one. Good luck out there lad!" she gave him a thumbs up before hurrying after 'Singing Gull'.

Riylli Aliapoh sighed once for not being allowed to rampage mindlessly, then once more as Cravs walked away without saying bye to the kid. She offers Baldur a wave. "You keep practicin' okay? We'll come by and see you again later, and maybe I'll share some of my adventurin' secrets with you!"

Cravendy Hound is a good distance ahead. As she passes by a stranger, there's some kind of odd collision that ends up tripping Cravs. Her mask drops off and rolls a few ilms forward as the stranger awkwardly, but quickly, makes their escape without even a sorry.

Cravendy Hound scrambles to recover the headware and fasten it back on. By the time Riylli and Rising have caught up, she's still kneeled over on the floor, troubled.

Riylli Aliapoh pretty much has to run to keep up with Cravs' long-legged walking, blinking in confusion as she notices her state. "H-Hey, you alright?"

Rising Lotus hurries to catch up to Cravs, quickly stepping in front of her to shield her face as she glanced around. "Aye..did you know that man or somethin'?"

Cravendy Hound: "I'm fine. Rattled is all." She whispers as she wobbles back up and takes a deep breath. ".....no, I didn't recognize them."

Rising Lotus looked around at the few bystanders eyeing the scene. "Maybe it'd be best to get out of here...before there's a chance to cause more of a scene." she said the last part in a whisper. Last thing they needed was the yellow jackets upon them.

Riylli Aliapoh raises her arm up seemingly to try to comfort her, only to hesitate and lower it back down. "...Let's talk outside of the city, all this salt is starting to make me sick..." She says, awkwardly attempting to give Cravs an out

Cravendy Hound: "...Right. No point in worrying about it now. Let's just get out of 'ere." She mutters.

#ff14 rp logs #Split Ends #riylli aliapoh #rising lotus #Cravendy Hound #*rubs hands together*#slowly but surely all of my disaster dominos are lining up

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iphoenixrising · 5 years ago

Note

Let's go with a more modern... idea. Tim's lack of spleen would make him more... susceptible to the COVID19, would it not? Full of Tim's friends and family worrying over him, and Tim pulling through with sheer willpower and him not wanting his family to experience another death in the family. He also has promises to keep, yeah? And if there is one thing Tim Drake is, it is that he is a man of his words. Well, most of the time.

BABE. You are quoting Fracture to me and I love it.

So what if Fracture!Tim (maybe post-Fracture so he’s got Dick and Jay after his ass, yeah?) was having a regular Wednesday and shit, thwarting international bad guys all over the fucking place.

Superboy, Kid Flash, and Wonder Girl decided to tag along for this little bout of sleuthing, and brought their stealth gear for just in case.

(Oh, we’re totally prepared for undercover work, Tim. See? No going against super villains by yourself this time, okay?)

He just so happens to be on the trail of terrible black market criminals, tracking shipments to a warehouse in Guangzhou. Of course, his old love interest, Lynx, is really behind it all and pretty much thought he might come snooping around.

So, trap. Of fucking course.

But the impending fight against many, many gang members with guns and killer moves actually goes his way pretty quickly with three disguised supers on his side.

Lynx has probably taken off somewhere already by the time most the fighters are down, and his teammates are consoling him about the escape. They’re tying up the baddies, questioning them about her whereabouts, and other drug locations–

–when someone sneezes in Red Robin’s face.

The news breaks later that night when they hit up a very posh safe house Cass used to use as her mainstay before going setting up shop in Hong Kong. The suits are off, and Tim takes a few minutes of privacy to call Dick and Jay half a world away, watching them suit-up for the night over Facetime.

He’s already had a shower, took note of the bruises, treated other injuries before putting on Jay’s shirt and Dick’s sweats to make the call.

They’re adorable when he tells them what went down, how he’s got to make a plan from here and try the next lead tomorrow night.

He suffers through their teasing about Lynx–

(“Ya better not even think about layin’ one on ‘er, Timmy. I’m a jealous motherfucker, you feel me?” “Aww, trying to say my ass is yours, Jay?” “Bet, Baby.”

“You know we have a Batwing, too. Twelve hours and we can prove it to you,” Dick fills in, pointedly bending over to adjust the top of his boot, showing off that beautiful ass. “This is straight-up torture. I’m calling the UN. There’s laws against this, you know.” “Miss you too, Baby.” “Couple days, and I’ll be home. Promise.” “We love you. Just be careful out there. We’ve been hearing some rumors of a virus–” “Hm. I’ll check into it while I have down time. You both be careful, too. Have a good patrol.” “Notch as good as it could be. Could stomp some ignorant ass hats n’ come back ta sweet fucking if ya were here.” “I owe you make-up sex.” “Fuck yeah.” “Done and done. Bye, Timmy.”

By morning, the news has broken. The Coronavirus has moved through the population in China, and people are getting sick in droves. Dami is watching the small television in the kitchen while eating breakfast in preparation for school. He and Pennyworth are the only ones awake at this time of morning. It’s fortunate they were by chance watching the news at that time. “My word,” Alfred watches the ticker with details, but Damian is already whipping out his cell phone, dialing Drake first.

Instead of leaving a message, he calls Kent, Allen, and Sandsmark.

Allen is the first one to answer, apparently groggy. “Rob?”

Damian goes through the news quickly, demands the speedster check on Drake immediately.

The speedster is loud about it, the pitter-patter that is knocking over the line before yelling comes over the ear piece, “coming in, Fearless Leader! Hope you’re decent!”

Alfred touches Dami’s shoulder and motions to the stairs, as he will attempt to wake Master Bruce, Master Dick, and Master Jason to apprise them of the situation.

Dami’s brusk nod freezes when Allen gasps in his ear.

“Tim? Tim, buddy? Wake up for me, okay? Oh my God, he’s burning up! Kon! Kon! I need you!”

Or, something like that, right babe?

#winter answers #covid19 ask #tim drake #my drab

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fangirl-ramblings · 5 years ago

Text

AIN'T NO SUNSHINE WHEN SHE'S GONE

Pairing: Micah Bell x Jenny Kirk (established relationship) / brief mention of Lenny Summers x Jenny Kirk (pining)

Summary: Micah doesn’t much care for anybody, let alone himself, but somehow young Jenny Kirk had managed to break down his walls - that is until that fateful day in Blackwater.

Now holed up in an abandoned mining town, Micah is refusing to let himself dwell on the memories of that day - but with little success.

Notes: Mainly pre-canon, focusing on the Blackwater Ferry Job, & the ride up to Colter

Angst, a hint of (consensual) NSFW,

CW: gun violence, one fairly gory description of wounds, Micah Bell with feelings

To @ring-my-micah-bell hope you enjoy your @rdrsecretcupid2020 gift. (apologies it’s not very Valentine-y-, but it is very Micah heavy - I hope I’ve done him justice for you)

Special thanks to the ever supportive @gangofgunslingers @zacklover24 @horsegirl1h & @budgietime for having a look over this & putting my mind at rest.

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

Late May 1899

***

Micah had always hated the quiet nights the most, the kind of nights where sleep’s reach was close enough to reach out and grab hold of him.

After the events of the last week or so, he had the excuse that the Pinkertons could be close behind and there was no time to rest - the gang simply had to keep moving, but now, sitting in the rickety old cabin in the middle of a Grizzlies snowstorm that refused to let up, he still could not to allow himself to fall asleep. He couldn’t bear the thought of closing his eyes and seeing her face looking back at him, while he’d be unable to reach out to touch and hold her close, like he so desperately wanted to.

Early May 1899

Looking over towards the gangway, Micah spotted Dutch in a calm conversation with a young, unknown woman, a passenger on the ferry perhaps, trying to use his charm to persuade her to stop blocking the only exit from the boat, but she stood firm, causing Dutch to become more and more frustrated.

The fire in Jenny’s eyes shone as brightly as the sun in the clear blue sky, as she realised how much money was on board the ferry and that Micah’s information was as good as he promised it would be. She smiled and kissed him passionately as they stuffed their saddlebags to the brim with the stolen cash.

Running outside to make their getaway, Micah watched with horror as that sweet smile of hers slowly faded, being replaced with a confused look etched across her face instead. Her delicate hands moving to clutch her stomach as a pool of red started to spread across her blouse, staining the porcelain like skin of her fingers.

Quickly turning around, Micah growled as he saw a well suited man trying to quickly reload his gun. He didn’t look like the average Blackwater deputy, who they’d paid close attention to when they scouted the place out in the last week-or-so, but Micah noticed the man still tried to give off an air of authority. Firing from the hip, Micah felt satisfaction as he somehow managed to place a bullet between the bastard’s eyes, before turning his attention back to Jenny. With the pair of them simply looking at each other’s expression, unable to find the words, they both understood it wasn’t just the local law who had turned up; and a swift glance at her wounds made them realise they needed to get off the ferry quickly and get her some medical assistance, before it was too late.

“Boss, we ain’t got time for pleasantries, we need to get the hell off of here.“

Dutch hesitated for a brief moment, his hand resting on his revolver, as he looked at Micah and then at Jenny’s face, draining of any colour she once had, before turning back to face the unknown woman in front of him.

"Sorry Miss, but either it’s you or one of us that isn’t getting off this boat alive… and I ain’t sacrificing one of my own"

"What the hell Dutch?” John shouted, as he ran over, alongside Javier, clutching his arm where a bullet had ripped apart the fabric of his jacket and grazed his arm. Whereas Javier stood speechless, looking at the body of the woman, who was now laying with her back on the floor, with the insides of her skull on show to everybody, then back to Dutch’s blank expression.

“It’s us or them boys” Dutch coolly replied putting away his gun and callously stepping over the woman’s corpse as he made his way off the ferry, down on to the pier. Micah quickly followed, with Javier quickly taking hold of Jenny’s other side, helping her down the gangway.

Taking cover behind a pile of crates, from the hail of bullets, that now seemed to be flying around them, Micah briefly noticed that Jenny wasn’t the only one injured. As the others started running past them, he noticed that Charles had somehow burnt his hand, while Davey had also obtained a nasty gunshot wound to his abdomen. He also heard talk about Mac & Sean being missing, but at that moment in time, this was just background noise to him - nothing to concern himself with. His sole focus was on getting Jenny somewhere safe, somewhere where he could make sure she was alright. Looking over one of the crates, as he took aim at one of the many lawmen firing back at him, he noticed that the weather had changed. The sunny, blue sky of the spring morning seemed to have turned into a dull, overcast afternoon, the sky now filled with grey rain clouds, threatening to rain at any moment.

A few days later

“Anybody can see the damned fool making moon eyes at you from across the campfire”

With the sun hidden firmly behind the torrents of snow, viciously falling all around them, Micah watched on from a closer distance than he would have liked. Sat on top of Baylock, he looked on as Lenny worked hard, digging a hole at the side of the road. Feeling nothing but pity and disgust as he saw the grief and sorrow etched on the young man’s face, with tears continuously falling down his face and landing into the makeshift grave.

What gives him the right to grieve over her? Micah thought to himself, spitting on the floor in anger and disgust. What gives that boy the right to grieve over his Jenny like *they* were childhood sweethearts? The most she had ever done was exchange a few pleasantries here and there as she wandered past him around camp. He couldn’t help but think back to one of the last times they lay on his bedroll together, when he had warned her about being nice to the boy.

“Shut up you fool, if I was interested in the kid do you think I’d layin’ next you right now strokin’ your cock?” She’d smirked, before straddling herself across his lap and kissing him with both tenderness & passion.

With Rev. Swanson finishing his eulogy and the blizzard continuing to rage on around them, with no sign of letting up, Micah cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach watching everybody pitying and fussing over Lenny, so he turned away and instead headed over towards the front of the wagon train, finding Dutch deep in conversation with Hosea.

“We can’t afford to keep stopping like this.”

“I know Dutch, but hopefully we’ve lost those Pinkertons bastards in this blizzard and we need to lay poor Jenny to rest, poor Lenny couldn’t continue riding alongside her lifeless body.” Hosea explained, trying to settle Dutch’s frayed nerves

“Sorry Boss, but I couldn’t help overhear’’ Micah interrupted, causing Hosea to shoot a disgruntled look in his direction. “Maybe I could go on ahead and see if I can find a place to stay, so we can lie low outta this storm?”

“Now that is a plan, best one I’ve heard since Blackwater” Dutch grinned “See Hosea, somebody is actually willing to do something to help solve our problems, instead of sitting around talking to me about them” Hosea rolled his eyes at that comment, knowing it was simply the sleep making his oldest friend talk that way. “Yes, son. Go and see what you can find us and be quick about it”

Micah tipped his hat as he rode off, feeling a sense of relief. At least this way he could grieve in peace, without anybody asking questions and accusing him of being weak by displaying his emotions.

***

Late May 1899

Opening his eyes and adjusting them to the darkness of the room, Micah stood up and shook the thoughts from his head. No, he thought, he couldn’t allow himself to think like that no more and he refused to let her death be in vain. He knew he had to find a way to make Dutch realise they need to go back and grab the Blackwater money and he didn’t care who else got hurt in the process.

#micah bell x jenny kirk #fangirl writes #Micah Bell maybe a rat - but he has feelings too you know #RDRSecretCupid2020

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anoutlandishfanfic · 5 years ago

Text

Metamorphosis AU: Ch. 24, Pt. 1, Convalescence.

The AO3 link to this chapter was posted earlier, but I haven’t posted the text in full here yet. This is not a new chapter, simply adding it to Tumblr.

You can find previous chapters here or over here at AO3.

_______________________________________

Three Days Later; End of December, 1743.

“What’s your pain level, luv?” I murmured, brushing the curls off Jamie’s brow.

He’d been fever free for a solid forty eight hours now, but I still felt like singing the Hallelujah Chorus every time I found him as such.

“I’m fine, Sassenach,” he assured me with a weary smile, “Dinna fash”

As ironic as it might seem — what, with me being six and a half months pregnant with twins and him recovering from major surgery and an assault that brought him to the brink of death — sleep was at a premium these days.

Jamie was able to doze most of the day away, his body unable to keep slumber at bay entirely, but he fought hard against the tow of a truly deep sleep and the demons that accompanied it. I was haunted by nightmares of my own, each more terrifying than the last, but my body’s aches and pains trumped anything my hormone-riddled subconscious could concoct. Intense muscle spasms accompanied by nagging hip pain combined with persistent nausea and frequent trips to relieve myself made it nearly impossible for me to achieve a full night’s sleep… and so I often joined my husband in drifting off in the middle of the day.

I shook my head at his insistence, suppressing a grin at what I knew without a doubt was a complete bluff and patted his cheek patronizingly, “I won’t, but give me the number anyway.”

“Four.”

I rose a brow at this and his smile grew as he added, “And a half.”

I chuckled, leaning in for a kiss and he gladly obliged.

“Mmm,” he intoned, bringing me back in for another one. “A few more of these an’ you’ll have me down to a two, Sassenach.”

”I’m aiming for one,” I quipped cheekily as I sat back and took a good look at my patient.

The color was slowly beginning to creep back into his cheeks and the light back into his eyes. Jamie had endured the unthinkable — I knew he had — but remained silent about most of what had happened at Wentworth. It weighed upon him tremendously, stooping his shoulders and furrowing his brow…

While his body was healing rapidly, his mind and spirit limped far behind.

Jamie’s good hand brushed against my leg and I instinctively pulled it into my lap, curving it around the ever growing swell of our children. He jumped slightly in surprise — I mentally kicked myself, for I knew he startled easily these days — but he quickly recovered and responded in delight.

“They’re growing,” he murmured, his gaze softening.

You’re growing is what he means, I internally groaned. You’re bigger than a horse, Mother Goose.

Jamie was silent for a moment before he sat up more fully, lifting his injured hand to touch my face. His thumb stroked my cheek and I turned my face to gently kiss his palm as my eyes drifted shut, trying to mask my insecurities. He lowered his hand slightly, cupping my chin and waiting for me to look at him before speaking.

“Have I thanked you yet, mo chridhe?”

My brows furrowed in confusion as I asked, “For what?”

“For my children… for the lives you carry a’ the risk of your own.”

My face melted as tears rushed to my eyes. I kissed him, my lips trembling at his tender words as my arms slipped around his neck.

“Oh,” I uttered insufficiently, completely overcome.

I buried my face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him, filling my lungs with the anchoring truth of his presence. His arms came around me too, holding me close as my hot tears hit his skin and we both realized just how much we missed the others touch.

We clung to each other for many moments in reverent silence before I added, “It’s my pleasure.”

A low noise — not quite a chuckle and not quite in negation of my words — rumbled within him, making his chest vibrate deliciously against me.

“Aye, but I ken tis no’ always so… when you were so sick a’ the first, or when they make you change so… when your time comes?”

I shook my head against him, whispering, “Even then.” ... A few days after that.

While he hadn’t ventured far from the bed yet, Jamie was now officially up and about. He puttered around after me as I worked at my table and often followed me to my chamber and back, but today we were going on our first walk around the abbey.

His left arm was looped comfortably through mine, not so much for assistance but rather assurance, as we slowly wandered the halls. Murtagh trailed several paces behind us to ensure we didn’t get lost — the maze of passageways was far more complex than I’d realized — and I thanked my lucky stars that he had, for we rounded a corner and came face to face with none other than Dougal McKenzie.

“Good to see ye on yer feet, lad,” he sneered, his words entirely insincere.

A chill ran down my spine at the sound of his voice and I flinched involuntarily as he took a step closer. Murtagh was at our side in an instant and edged his way between us and our foe.

Jamie’s arm slid out from under mine and wrapped protectively around my waist.

I’ve got you, he promised with a squeeze. He’ll have to get through me to get to you.

“Tis good to see you too, uncle,” Jamie lied through clenched teeth, “but I’m afraid we must be returning to our rooms. I hope to speak wi’ you again before you return to Leoch.”

Dougal waved the notion away as if he were swatting at a pesky fly, scoffing, “Ach, I’ll be here for a while yet… too many redcoat patrols for my taste. Wouldna want to leave ye and have them swarm the place.”

A noise of shock and dismay left my lips before I could stop it and Murtagh sprang into action, all but shoving us in the right direction. Large black spots suddenly appeared at the edges of my vision, obscuring the sudden image of a hangman’s noose around my husband’s neck. My knees buckled beneath me and I latched desperately onto Jamie’s shirtfront.

“Easy, Sassenach,” he crooned as I sagged into him, trembling violently. “I’ve got you.”

“If ye’ll excuse us,” Murtagh growled as we sidestepped Dougal and continued guiding us down the hall, nearly pulling the both of us along behind him.

They wouldn’t, would they?

Religious sanctuary was irrevocable, our protection irrefutable so long as we stayed within the abbey walls…

Wasn’t it?

Father Anselm and the other elders would uphold our right to sanctuary here at the cost of their lives, I knew, but they didn’t stand a chance against an overwhelming military force with a legitimate claim of action. They were harboring not only an escaped convict, but a posse of murderous Highlanders besides. The religious laws and traditions of a Roman Catholic monastery — decidedly Scottish — would be tossed aside without a moment’s hesitation in order to capture the enemies of a mighty, entirely Protestant army.

Get a grip, Beauchamp. This is the seventeen-forties, not the fourteen-forties.

I had no recollection of the rest of the walk back to Jamie’s room, but suddenly blinked and found myself perched on the edge of Jamie’s bed, his pale face studying mine with marked concern.

“Are you alright, mo chridhe?”

“No,” I let out a shuddering sigh. “That bloody man scares the fucking daylights out of me.”

A decided snort sounded from the edges of my vision and I turned to find Murtagh all but bolting the door shut.

“He willna be layin’ a hand on ye, lass,” he vowed. ��No’ if I have anythin’ to say about it”

I rather thought Murtagh would have quite a lot to say about the matter, should it be pressed, but I shoved the thought of that away.

Jamie is here.

Murtagh is here.

I am safe.

“You’re safe, Claire,” Jamie echoed my thoughts aloud, using the phrase I often reassured him with.

I nodded with an attempt at a smile, but knew I didn’t quite manage to pull it off.

“We’ll find a way to be out of here an’ his reach, aye?” He continued, tucking a stray curl behind my ear before brushing a tear from my cheek.

“To France, maybe? We’re no’ far from the coast… if we left soon, we could be to Paris or Le Havre a’ least before the bairns came.”

Murtagh seized this idea with an eager determination, “Aye, ye’ve many a kin who’d aid ye there… both Fraser an’ MacKenzie, come to that.”

“Then it’s settled,” Jamie pulled me into his arms, his lips moving against my neck as he announced, “We’ll leave wi’ the first ship tha’ll take us.”

…

One week later.

This proved to be a more difficult task than we’d anticipated, for travel across this area of the channel in the dead of winter was rare, and it seemed we would remain at the abbey for a good while yet.

“Any luck?” I asked unnecessarily as Murtagh entered the room, answering me with a decided shake of his head.

Jamie had dozed off and I’d hoped — in vain — to get some sleep while he did, but it was not to be. I’d found myself restless and the lives within me even more so, and so I’d given it up entirely… returning to his side instead and attempting to sketch out rough schematics for a Pinard horn.

I turned back to my paper, tapping the pencil impatiently against my drawing as I thrust the idea out into the open.

“Could you make something out of wood for me?” I blurted, not quite making eye contact with him.

“Hmm?” he intoned in grumpy confusion… perhaps this wasn’t the right time to ask him for a favor.

He grumbled, “What do ye need?”

I shoved the paper into his hands, explaining hastily before he tuned out entirely, “A Pinard horn… it’s a medical instrument in my time that lets you hear a person’s heartbeat more clearly… mostly used by midwives to hear baby’s within the womb.”

Murtagh’s eyes widened at this and then dropped to study what I’d given him.

“You can hear… them… wi’ this?”

“Yes,” I nodded eagerly. “I don’t remember the exact measurements… only that it’s shaped like this,” I pointed to curve of it.

“It might take a few tries to get it right,” I warned, but he shook his head.

“I dinna mind,” he assured me, then launched into a series of questions that left me without a doubt that we’d soon be able to hear my babies’ heartbeats.

I took hold of his hand, once he had all the information he needed, and squeezed it tightly, murmuring, “Thank you.”

A slow smile spread across his face as squeezed back, an acknowledging nod his response before he added,

“Tis just wha’ the lad needs, no?”

#outlander fanfic #Metamorphosis AU #chapter 24 #convalescence pt 1

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emotionalcello-makefanfics · 5 years ago

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Summary :

The awkward flirting ensues on their second date. Served with a pinch of angsty heart to heart and a non-graphic spicy scene to keep it PG.

Sequel to Aaron is a Cute Name

Sequel to this Not Now, But Someday

Click title to read on ao3. Click keep reading to read on tumblr~

Words : 10k

Do you want to go on a date this weekend?

Chris dropped his phone to his marble floor. Almost dropping his chia bowl to join it.

Then he screamed. High-pitched and throaty like a pterodactyl. No, not because he just dropped his brand new Apple phone, but because Aaron just asked him on a date just two days after their first date.

Chris is still reeling at the feeling of his cute first initiation of a kiss, and now he’s asking him on a date? How bold! And so eager, this man either interested or literally going after his life. Dare he says that Aaron also likes him too?

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Chris chanted as he bends down to grab his phone and stare at his message.

There’s no way he’s replying now, not when he’s aware that he’s generating big dumb energy. Dumb shit happens when he’s on dumb bitch mode, and he needs to direct this energy to the same associate.

‘I just got a text back from the cute agent he’s asking for a second date this weekend ajsnhacdk’

Perfect. Send.

‘Haily’ glares on the screen, an incoming call.

“BIIIIIIITCH WHAT?” the woman screamed, thankfully, Chris already hangs his phone farther from his ear as he picks it up.

“I know!” Chris replied with the same excitement.

“Wow, Chris. Years I’ve been your partner and you never got any hot action, and now I’m on a honeymoon I’m missing everything!... No, honey, it’s Chris... He just hooked up with a guy!... Yeah I know right?” faintly Chris can hear Jim, Haily’s newlywed husband, congratulate him.

“Wait wait wait whoa, I’m not hooking up with him!” Chris cleared, “We’re just going on dates I guess, and I’m his first guy, so like... I’m taking it slow with him.”

“But he kissed you first right?”

“K-Kinda, he initiates and I gave the final push.”

“Okay? Just be careful with the bicurious alright? We all know and experienced what happened with my 2013 incident.”

Chris shivers, “Yeah, no need to tell me twice.” Chris looks down to his feet, covered with deep blue and black-tipped socks. There are a few drops of milk on his shirt making him groan internally, he’ll need to change before he goes to work.

“What’s wrong, Chrissy?” Haily asked after a long pause.

“I really like him, Hay. I don’t know... I just feel like... you know? Really really like him. Am I losing my marbles or what's going on?”

“You’re just whipped, dude.”

“Oh no, already?”

“You know I’m on your side, right?” Haily points out, “I was there when you gone in and out of love with everyone across the board. This is the first time you’re this excited over a date, and you know I’m happy for you! Like fucking finally!”

“I know.”

“If this one last, you better introduce me to him. He’ll gonna need my stamp of approval before he gets to marry you.”

“Yeah duh, Jim had mine, of course, I need your stamp, it’s only the law.” Chris looks at his wrist. Well shit, he’s not gonna be able to change his shirt.

“Gotta go Hay, love you doll! Have a great honeymoon!”

“I’ll see you Monday baby!”

Chris put his phone on his pocket and bolt with his bowl because he’s not gonna waste expensive organic chia seeds, completely forgetting that he left Aaron on read.

++++++

Chris left him on read for 8 hours now, and Aaron tried to not think about it too much. Keyword: tried to.

It doesn’t help that he’s not on any case for the rest of the week, so he’s been writing reports all day. He caught himself spacing out instead of his papers for a number of times he’s not proud of. It’s not his age to feel this bothered over someone leaving him on read. There must be a logical reason why Chris does so.

Their first date goes well. There’s nothing to worry about. Chris will reply sooner or later. If he’s interested in a second date, they’ll go. If Chris is not interested, then they’ll go on with their lives. Like a hook tugging in, Aaron noticed reeling in that there’s a possibility of disinterest on Chris’ behalf.

In that split moment, he felt his age, job, and life on the scale of consideration.

“You’ve been staring at that page for 10 minutes,” A comment of Reid Spencer delivered by Derek Morgan. The agent stood by the door frame with a worried look on his face.

“It’s nothing,” Hotch dismissed.

“Last time you said that you collapsed with your stab wound reopened.”

It was a habit to dismiss his condition, but this matter really is just... petty and nothing.

“It’s about Chris.”

Morgan knits his arched eyebrows, “What about him?” His voice stern and defending.

Though Hotch feels flattered by his intention to protect him –and he’s not the only one to do so– they really shouldn’t be this worried over him. Well, if that’s so, then Hotch shouldn’t be this worried over a read message.

“I just asked him on another date, and he left me on read. Really it’s nothi-”

“Pfft,” Morgan held his laugh with lips pressed tight and curled. Hotch glares at Morgan who’s having a hard time holding back his laugh.

“No need to rub salt on my wound Morgan.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry, okay it’s all valid and all, I just don’t expect you to do that too.” Morgan walks in and sits across Hotch’s desk.

“I didn’t tell you to sit.”

“Okay, first of all,” Morgan started, ignoring his boss, “It’s normal to feel restless over these things.”

“I know, Morgan.”

“Especially since he’s your first guy.”

“How do you even know that?”

“It shows, man,” Morgan shrugged, “I’m here if you wanna ask about that stuff, ya know?”

“Was Reid your first too?”

“Nah, I was Reid’s.”

“I see.”

“So I can tell you about Chris’s perspective.”

“That’s... actually could be helpful.” Hotch doesn’t believe he’s saying that too, and how Morgan is offering it. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous with Chris. He didn’t feel like this with Beth. “I don’t want to screw this one up, Morgan,” He found himself saying.

It caught the agent off guard. The weight of Hotch’s words settles down on him, and gone were his playful bearings. Both of them have been a team for years. Morgan, along with a few people that still stay on the team, has been there with him through all his relationships. The beautiful start and how it ends.

How it all always ends.

“Okay, layin’ it a bit too heavy on the first swing there uh, what else does he make you feel?”

Hotch takes in a deep breath, “It just feels so easy. He’s not pushing me, I’m the one that pushes. I’m free-falling, and I’m enjoying it...”

“And it scares you that you feel that way?” Morgan completed. The perk of having profiler friends, they know.

He nods, solemnly, looking down at his clasped hands on top of his last report of the day.

“Wow, all of that after one date?” Morgan flashes his playful smirk.

“I don’t know why either.” Hotch smiles back, just as pleasantly surprised as Morgan does.

“Look man, don’t worry too much. Let yourself be happy and not worry about the what if’s. He seems like a good guy, fun too. If you like him then I trust your judgment of him.”

“Thank you, he is the type of person that balances me. I surprise myself how much I look forward to seeing him again, but there is a possibility that... he might not want to see me again.”

“Oh c’mon, you don’t know that.”

“Just a possibility Derek.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t, you move on.”

“Yes, but I want it to work.”

Morgan raises his eyebrows, mouth agape, “Wow, Hotch... I need to meet the guy who made you his whipped.”

Just as Hotch about to ask what ‘whipped’ means, his phone vibrates. Like on cue, Kristianto Hamlyn glares across Hotch’s phone. Hotch raises his phone and gives a look to Morgan, who understands and leaves with a knowing smile.

“Aaron Ho-”

“I’m so sorry!” Chris’s voice almost deafens Hotch’s right ear. “I saw your message today, and I was... I...um... wait.” Chris cleared his throat. “It caught me off guard and I tucked my phone in because I was late for work,” his voice sounded calmer and stoic, like reading a script.

“Really?” Hotch teased, knowing that’s not the full story.

“Yeah, totally, haha,” Hotch can imagine the detective on his desk with a shy expression on his face, looking down at messy paperwork rowed and stacked there, just like what he’s doing now. “So, this weekend huh?”

“Are you available?”

“Totally! I wanna go to your town!”

“Sure, I’ll show you around this time, any preference?”

Chris paused for a few seconds, then said softly, “I don’t really have any, as long as you’re the one showing me around.” Chris cleared his throat again, “Um, and good food.”

“My yelp game is not as strong as you, but I do know my way around.”

“Oh god, that’s so... that’s so out of character of you! I wish I get to see your face saying ‘yelp game’,” Chris laughed heartily, and Hotch wished he’s there to see Chris does so.

+++++

Date day. Chris has so many things to wear but he none to choose from. It’s edging to fall, so he covers his salmon shirt with a maroon leather jacket and compliment the look with dark jeans and boots. He looks like a biker, a bad boy, the type of rebels that he arrested. He rocked the look, as quoted from Haily. He couldn’t even ride a bicycle. A shame that he’ll never tell anyone beside Haily.

His fingers feel kind of... vibrating? Just like when it’s 9 pm and he’s on his 5 th cup of coffee.

Just a date.

It’s just a date.

Like, whatever, right?

Chris would’ve laughed at himself if he’s not frozen over at the sight of Aaron, standing by the entrance of the cultural market in casual wear. The shirt he wears isn’t sinfully tight, but it complements the outline of his body, broad, sturdy, kinda like a brick and tall. Though he knows that they’re roughly the same height, but that and a tall impression left a different feel to it. He lowly hums at the sight of those legs wrapped in slim-fit dark blue trousers, topped with a leather belt and black oxfords. Light olive shirt tucked into the pants doing his body the justice it deserves. For extra damage, Aaron rolled the sleeves to his elbows.

Chris loved Aaron is his clean-cut suits, but now he hated what those suit had deprived him of.

“Hello? I don’t mind the stare but, I’m more than just a pretty face to admire on.” Aaron is looking at him, holding back a smile, and Chris felt embarrassed for staring at him from 10 meters away.

“Someone’s been practicing their lines!” Chris approaches meekly with a nervous laugh. What is he doing? He’s cooler than this, c’mon. He straightened his back, and flash his smooth playboy smile. “You just look really good.” Nice. He pats himself in the back for that one.

“You too,” Aaron says back.

“Seems fun in there,” Chris noted, looking behind Aaron. It’s a parking lot for the stadium looming over this area filled with street vendors, art vendors, food and random knick-knacks. They��re standing a bit further from the entrance but Chris can smell some hearty delicious curry and the beast inside his stomach roared.

“They’re here every weekend, I figured you like things like this.”

“Oooh, did it came with your profile?”

Aaron kind of leans back. Kind of. Everything Aaron does is always done subtlety and elegance like he’s controlling his reaction, so Chris has to look closely.

“It’s a guess,” Aaron shrugged, looking like he had done something wrong.

“Oh, c’mon I want to know what your profile says about me!”

“You sure? Some people might think it’s invading their space.”

“I can see why, but I dunno, you guys are like psychics to me. It’s cool! Like a Buzzfeed quiz telling me my mental state of mind by my choice of shampoo... or something like that.”

Aaron chuckled, oh, Chris is never getting tired of that. “We’ve been called a lot of names, but this is the first time someone compared us to a personality quiz.”

Chris wonders how long will it be until he’s immune to Aaron’s laughs. But now he enjoys it fully with all the butterflies and the blushing.

They walk around the market. First stop, lunch. They eat chicken green curry standing up beside the truck. They look at art vendors varying from paintings, pots and little miniatures. Then buying little snacks as they walk and talk and look around. Once or twice Chris would get distracted at cool pretty things and comment on it. Some vendors would greet Aaron, he said that he frequents coming here in the morning for groceries.

They were walking peacefully, still edging away from personal topics, until... a cat sculpture caught Chris’ eyes.

“Stop.” Chris holds out his hand in front of Aaron and thankfully the agent stops abruptly without spilling his ice cream.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to have that!” Chris says a little louder than average. Even the artist that sits behind the tables full of her works is startled when Chris points at the cat.

After downing the last of his boysenberry milkshake, Chris runs to the vendor and crouches down to look at the cat sculpture closer. It’s made of clay. Shaped like a fat and amazingly smooth upside-down egg with two triangles on the top as ears. An absolute unit. It’s painted as a black cat with neon yellow eyes. White painted on the tips on its ears and the tail’s tip on the back. And the expression, so smug and all-mighty. Even though the cat is below him and only as long as his forearms, the expression painted on the cat’s face is the look of God looking down on humanity’s downfall like Jersey Shore while eating popcorn.

Chris has to have it.

“Good day mam! Is this your work?” Chris says with wide and suspiciously excited eyes. But in the interest of her work, the artist glows in the same excitement.

“Why yes!”

“Then take my money!”

And took it she did.

Near the end of the day, they settle on the park bench eating more snacks as the sky dims with the sun on the way setting.

“You were really excited about the clay cat,” Aaron noted, biting into his second taco.

There’s burrito filling on his cheeks, preventing Chris from speaking. He chews faster to reply, “It looked like my... uh, my foster dad’s cat.”

“Oh, you’re a foster?”

“Yup, I’ve been in and out of foster homes since I was young, I think.”

“You think?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hm, did you ever get adopted?” Aaron thread lightly.

“Nope. The last place I live in before taken by my foster dad was kind of fucked up. I was seventeen when the police bust the church, and I was taken in by one of the officers. His name’s Matty, Matty Matheson. Man, what a guy he was.” Chris prayed to the darkening light gray-blue sky.

“He’s such a blast. Thought me how to cook, how to be carefree and just enjoy life, you know? Despite everything.” Chris stops there, he’s not ready for the rest, and Aaron blissfully doesn’t press on. Aaron doesn’t express any distinctive emotions, but his eyes are on Chris, focused, yet has no pressure.

“I wasn’t his only rescue.” Chris continued, “He had Rosco when I came. A black cat with white tips,” Chris pats on the cat statue wrapped in a box and brown bag between them.

“Must’ve been a good cat.”

“Oh, no. She was a bitch. She would hiss even when I look at her. Then she had the audacity to zoom onto my path and hissed when I accidentally touched her!” Chris corrected and saw how Aaron paused unsurely. “But I remembered when she acted sweet one day. I was still in my early years of living with Matty and I was crying myself to sleep pretty regularly. Usually, Matty could cheer me up instantly but he was on night shift that day. She then crawled up to my bed and sleep on my foot. Don’t know why she did that but, since then she always sleeps by the foot of the bed. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s entitled though, she would bite me when I accidentally kick her in my sleep.”

“Do you think she knows that you need her?”

“Hm, I don’t know, cats are weird.”

“Wouldn’t have known, I’ve only had dogs.”

“Dang, I’ve wanted a dog once too. Do you have one?” Chris wished Aaron say yes just so he can demand dog pics next.

“I can’t. I’m away a lot. Sometimes I need to be ready in an hour to fly over for a case.” There’s a defeated look in Aaron’s expression, but he still smiles that soft little boat like curve.

“Aw, that sucks.”

“What about you? Do you have a cat?

“Kind of, but I would feel guilty of leaving a cat at home so much. Maybe when I retire.”

“Hm, that’s a nice plan.”

Then they take a breather, pausing comfortably as they look around. The park lights are on even though there’s still light left on the darkening sky. Chris got here at 1 PM, he checked his watch and isn’t really surprised that it’s a little bit past 5 pm. Closing the end of the year, daylight is shorter. Now that he’s thinking of the end of the year...

“Hey, Aaron?”

“Yes?”

“You have plans for Thanksgiving? Going back to your folk’s place?” Chris baited, hopeful that he didn’t step on his toe.

“I don’t have a lot of immediate families and I’m not really close with my extended family. My parents died a long time ago, so I only have a brother now and again, not close. The last time I spent it with my family was when I was still married, so... around 5 years ago.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s not a delicate subject. What about you?”

Well, it’s delicate for Chris, but Aaron opened up, it’s only fair that he does the same. “Got no folks left to eat dinner with.” He shrugged, a fact too old for him to be bothered to say, but he can see how Aaron’s expression shift to gloom. “Matty died in the field seven years after he takes me in. Since then I’ve been having thanksgiving with my partner, Haily. But she got married recently, so I bet she’ll have them at her in-laws. There’s always the office Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I have one too,” Aaron said. “If things turn to worse and we found ourselves alone in the holidays, we can always spend it together.”

only on their second date and Chris already got an invitation to spend the holidays together? Like whoa, hold up Lightning McQueen. Of course, Chris wants to, but hopefully, that’s not moving too fast, certainly not for Chris. And since Aaron is the one that suggested it, must’ve been a comfortable pace for him too, still...

“It’s only our second date, you really sure you want to spend your precious holidays with me?” Chris teased, hoping he’s not shooting himself on the dick.

“It’s only fair to spend my precious holidays with someone precious.”

If his heart can audibly scream, he would’ve deafened everyone at a two-block radius. Aaron just teased him back, and the audacity of that smirk!

“I see someone had practiced his lines, enough to earn a blush outta me,” Chris fights back, leaning closer till their shoulder touched.

“I had a great example,” Aaron looks deeply into Chris. He forgot how pretty Aaron’s eyes are, how dare he? “From this little cutie with deep blue eyes and shiny chocolate hair.”

Chris is destroyed by ‘little cutie’, “Aaaah! You win!” Chris leans back, covering his flushed face while Aaron laughed. The laugh that ended Chris once and for all.

How will he survive a relationship with this man?

Wait, will they be an item?

Suddenly, two dates are a date too many.

Chris is filled with the urge of not wanting to go home, but he knows he has to. They spent a half day together and it’s been fun and exciting even though he has to admit, Chris does most of the talking just because he generally talks a lot. Aaron seems to be having fun too. They opened up a little today, that’s a bonus.

Chris counts today’s date as a win.

They walk together to the subway and waits for Chris’s train.

“Have any plan for our third date?” Aaron asked, and Chris is way ahead of him.

“Oh, you bet I do. This time, I’m taking you where I think you’ll like.”

“Really? Did you profile me?” Aaron asked, amused.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve, just you wait.”

“I hope it’s nothing reserved. I wouldn’t want to have to cancel you last minute because of a case.”

“... welp, plan b!”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I’m kidding!” Chris exclaimed, bumping his shoulder with Aaron’s. He’s been doing that a lot today, he needs to stop. “C’mon, don’t be sorry for doing your job. What you do is awesome!” and dangerous, the kind that reduces your life at every brush of death. He red David Rossi’s book, and man, if that’s what Aaron is really going through for every mission, he wouldn’t sleep a wink.

But hey, what can you do? Aaron gotta do what Hotch gotta do.

“You wouldn’t be saying that after I cancel on our date 5 times in a row over a case. Today we’re just unbelievably lucky.”

“Hey, I think you’re just overestimating that,” Chris scoots closer and bumps his shoulder against Aaron’s, purposely this time. “We’ll see where this goes together.”

Aaron passed him a thankful smile as he returns the gesture, bumping up his heartbeat. “I have a lot of fun today,” he said with dark eyes looking up from the subway’s grimy tiles.

Chris tightened his hold on the cat sculpture on his arms, “Same here.”

A voice-over breaks their zone and a train passes through the tunnel, bringing the wind with it. Chris looks to the side where Aaron squints his eyes and hair blown slightly. Yup, he’s so dead.

“This is me,” Chris cocks his head to the slowed-down train in front of them, “Um, goodnight.”

Aaron steps forward and Chris hits the breakfast. An arm nest softly on Chris’ waist as Aaron leans in. Chris doesn’t give the last push this time, and Aaron lands his lips softly on top of his. In the languid paced movement, everything else seems to blur. Their body awkwardly apart, blocked by the clay cat between them. Chris takes a hand off the statue and put it on the back of Aaron’s neck, grazing the skin at the nape. When he breathes in, he smelt the salsa they ate with and the hint of woody perfume.

Who knows who leans back first, but when they did, the playful air they had is gone. Like realizing that they’ve stepped into a territory with a big red sign on the outside.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Aaron Hotchner,” Chris said in lieu of the state he’s in.

“I hope that’s not true, you promised me a date.” Aaron just chuckled and slid his hands off his back, “Go before you miss the train.”

Chris steps into the train reluctantly, waving to Aaron who still ever so sweetly smiles.

+++++

Aaron was not kidding about canceling their dates 5 times. They’ve planned a lot to meet up and Aaron has been canceling on him five times in a row in addition to Chris canceling on him once because he’s assigned on night watch. Chris wasn’t upset about it, though it’s sad that it’s so hard to meet him, it was at a point where it’s kind of entertaining. ‘Now I get to know what Lois Lane felt,’ he teased one day hoping it would make Aaron sound less sorry. It didn’t work, yet Chris tried anyway. ‘I’ll wait till the end of time, my dear.’ ‘Oh, those sickos, taking you away from me.’ ‘It’s okay, send me his face with my name carved on his face. Stay safe!’ The last one is super cringy and a failed attempt on his take of an Addams Family AU.

In return, they talked a lot on the phone, every time that they can spare. Aaron will call after he finished his case, and Chris would call whenever he misses him. Aaron can always reach him, but Chris can only be so lucky if the end of the call gets through.

It’s not until two months after their second date that they meet again. Now, they’re sitting on the bench right outside the emergency room, shoulder to shoulder. The waiting hall is quiet at 1 am, and the only other people waiting there is an elderly couple at the other end of the hall.

“So, there I was, reduced down to my flower boxers, modeling for a bunch of 70-year-olds that attempted to draw a semi-nude picture of me. When nurse Abigail came, I thought for sure she would put a stop to those cheeky seniors, but she just stood and enjoy the view too! The only light of this is one of the seniors was legit good at drawing and he gave the picture to me.”

Hotch rubbed his face, the corner of his lips peeking from his hand as his chest shakes. If they’re not in a hospital right now, he bet Hotch would’ve laughed louder.

“What other hobbies you hide from me besides intervening on seniors’ home gathering .”

“Excuse me, it was a volunteering gig, and it’s fun.” Chris huffed playfully, “They’re all really nice, it’s like having dozens of doting grandparents, and now I can knit.”

“I’m not surprised.” Aaron finally cheered up.

When Chris got the call, he rushed here even though he was just getting ready for bed. Hotch was in the middle of assisting the police to hunt a serial arsonist when his friend, and Chris’ idol, Rossi is shot on his stomach. It was supposedly a small case, so only Rossi and he was handling it. The rest of his team is on the other end of the US, all the way to Sacramento for another case. Aaron called just to have someone to talk to, or so he said. There was an argument when Chris insisted that it’s okay for him to come over. Yet when he arrived, Aaron greeted him with a silent hug and they talked about anything else.

All they can do now is wait while Rossi is in the ER.

It was concerning yet endearing to get a call from Aaron when he’s still Hotch. His team is like family, and Aaron is alone, waiting for a life and death procedure of what an equivalent as the eccentric sketchy yet suspiciously rich Italian Uncle.

“What made you want to pursue this career, Chris?” Hotch asked out of the blue.

“A detective?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, Matty did. I was a teen when Matty takes me in, but he inspires me a great deal. They said the job wears you down, that you’ll see the world and all the ugly behind the crime and feel like nothing will change. Never Matty. He stays positive even though he’s on the job for 30 years. The way he sees the world was beautiful and new to me, and since him, I don’t want to look at the world like how I did ever again. And I was pretty weak when I was a kid, so I want to become stronger and be in a power that can protect people. Because I can see what the police failed to see when I needed them then.”

It’s a good feeling to remember that better part down the memory lane. Whatever that had happened had led him to here. To meet Matty, Haily, and then Aaron.

Fingers laced between his and grips tight, “I’m glad you met him. I hoped I had the chance to meet him.”

Chris clasp his hand back, squeezing just as tight. His cheeks start to tingle, he just hoped it doesn’t show.

“Me too.” Chris looks away when he sees Aaron with his cheeky smile and the lights showing the deep olive hue in his eyes. “I’m hungry, you’ve eaten yet?”

“Not dinner.”

“I’ll get us some protein bars, and a warm coffee?”

“Yes please.”

Chris brought back 4 granola bars from the vending machine and two paper cups of warm watery coffee. Both of them groaned simultaneously at the horrible taste then chuckled. They chatted some more until Hotch starting to look sleepy by the look of his heavy eyelids trying so hard to open.

“You should go home, Chris.”

“No, I’ll accompany you until the doctor’s back.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” because Chris is worried. When he came, Hotch looks deathly worried, even now he looked paler than usual, which already look vampire pale in general. “You guys are so solid, you know that?” Chris stated out of the blue. “Even I feel it when you guys were back in DC. You got a dynamic like family on a mission.”

“That’s one way to put...” Hotch yawns, “...to put it.” Then he puts down his empty paper cup on the feet of the benches. Even after coffee, Hotch still lulls his head.

“Want to lay down?” Chris pats his shoulder, feeling a little bolder.

“Thank you,” he said, it got Chris thinking it’s a ‘no thank you’, but then, Hotch scoots a little and lay his head on Chris’s shoulder. He smells like an antiseptic soap, mint, sweat and somehow, gun powder. The weight of his head feels like a cat resting there, and his hair feels like prickly grass.

He’s so glad he wears his cushiony leather jacket today.

“Chris?” Hotch called, and he hums in reply, “Have you ever feel lonely in your own home?”

His breath stops for a split second. Maybe that’s why Hotch is here, he thought. With a feeling of melancholy, he leans his head on top of Aaron’s, hoping he’ll provide more comfort.

“Why do you think I spent my weekends volunteering in a senior home? If I’m lucky, some of them would think I’m their grandson, and I felt like I have a family. Even though the next time I cam there, most of them forgot about me.” Chris sighed a shuddering breath. He never admits that to anyone.

He’s bright, confident, and optimistic, it’s his brand. To gloom over it is not him, and telling it to Hotch who he only knows for two months is even so.

Aaron reaches for his hand and laces them together again, holding tightly as he buries his face even deeper to the crook of Chris’ neck.

Either Hotch is drowsy or he’s messing with him right now. Either way, Chris gladly slide his hands and intertwined his fingers with Hotch’s.

“My ex-wife and son were killed a few years ago.”

Chris choked on his own saliva, “Ack, oh... Oh my God.”

The Hotch has the audacity to chuckle, “I knew you’d react that way.”

“React what way? That’s... that’s awful Aaron, I-” Chrish is cut short by his sudden sob. He leans back and breathes in like he always does when he’s overwhelmed, and tried to calm down. Aaron needs him now.

“It’s a long time ago.”

“Does time even matter for things like that?” Chris cleared his throat and breathes out, “It doesn’t go away. They’re either pushed away or they don’t age well.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Trauma.”

Aaron hums, “Are you speaking from experience?”

The question hits like a deadly jab, yet at the same time, Chris expected it. “Yes.”

“Then you’re right. It doesn’t age well. I was so used to calling home to talk to my son, on every different occasion. I was always busy, and my ex-wife got custody so he’s always with her. I always call after he’s on recitals, camp, holidays when I couldn’t see him, or even homework. Picking him up on the weekends are the things I looked forward to, then suddenly, I don’t have that anymore. I’ve been coming back to a quiet home for years, until you.”

“Until me, huh.”

It’s not his story yet it hurts to hear. Hurts to know how much he must’ve hurt. The only thing he could be happy about is how Aaron talks about it calmly like he had made peace with it.

Chris holds on to Hotch’s hand tighter, pressing his face on top of Hotch’s head and hide in his raven black hair.

Soon, Hotch fell asleep on his shoulder while Chris stays up and wait for the doctor to come out of the ER.

+++++

It was almost midnight when Hotch finally finished with his reports and heads home. As he just makes himself comfortable in his car, his private phone rings. Chris.

“Hi.”

“Hey, hot stuff.” Chris doesn’t sound so hot.

“How are you?”

“A-okay, I just wanna hear your voice.”

“Chris.”

A pause. Seconds ticks away. Then a defeated sigh.

“I swear it’s nothing. I’m just... it’s just uh, I just want to talk.”

“What is it?” Aaron leans back on his seat, “Nothing’s too minor, you told me that.”

“Pulling a reverse card like that is not fair,” so he said, yet with an amused tone in his voice.

“I got no card left on my hand.”

Chris sighed, “I get like this sometimes.”

“Like what?”

“Like I don’t belong in my own home, in my own skin, you know?” It’s the first time that Chris sounded vulnerable, troubled. Aaron never hears him like this, yet it’s not surprising or completely foreign.

With a tightened squeeze on his phone, Aaron says, “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Oh...” Chris paused. “I’m sorry. It feels terrible.”

“It is.” Aaron mused, then smiled as he popped an idea, "Want me to come over?”

“W-Wh... Wait, um... really?” it’s the highest tone Chris hits so far. “I, Yeah! But you just got back.”

“I got my go-bag, I’m ready to sleepover at your place.”

“Wait... you’re sleeping over?!”

“Unless you don’t want me-”

“I want to! I’ll send you the location but I have to tidy up now okay bye babe.” Then Chris hangs up abruptly.

Aaron mouthed with a smile, “Babe?”

.-.-.-.-.

“Hi babe,” Aaron leers as soon as the door is open. Chris immediately groans with a furious blush on his face.

“It slipped okay?” Chris steps sideways to let Aaron in.

“Didn’t say I’m complaining.”

Chris lives in a fairly good apartment complex. Complete with security measures such as a guard and CCTV. Hotch doesn’t know what to expect when he finally comes into Chris’s living space. The walls have a lot of photos of him with different types of social groups. He recognizes one when Chris is younger in the academy uniform, others with seniors from which he volunteered and some with his work associates. A small bookcase at the end of the room filled with books. The open kitchen is on the left, through the sofa and TV, and fairly decorated with various utensils, which means that Chris cooks at least.

The bedroom located pass the kitchen. There’s a blanket on the sofa, which means that Chris spends more time there. On top of the coffee table in front of it, rest a wine glass, a coffee cup, and the cat sculpture. In front of the cat with a condescending look, sit a framed photo of Chris in his teens and a big framed man in a police uniform, must be Matty.

“So, this is your place after you clean it?” Aaron dropped his bag beside the couch.

“Actually, I gave up halfway.”

“It’s not as bad as you said.” After looking around, he noticed Chris bending down to get his bag. “Where are you taking my bag?”

“To my room.”

Aaron smirk, recognizing his chance to tease Chris, “If you want me in your bed so badly why don’t you say just say so,” Aaron knows it’s not what Chris meant, but he can’t help it, especially how Chris would go red in an instant.

“Aaron you need to stop! You’re getting dangerously way better than me at this.”

“Why thank you,” Aaron leans in to take his bag away and slip a kiss on the corner of his mouth before dropping his bag beside Chris’ bed. “Unless you don’t want me here-”

“I do!” Chris blurted out. Aaron knocked back his head and laugh as he drops his butt on the soft mattress that bounces him lightly.

“How are you so calm?” Chris finally whispered. “You must’ve seen how I’m literally gulping down my thirst and I’m holding back...”

“Why would you hold back?”

“Because I... well, I want you, but I know it’s your first and I know I have to get into this with communication before and I go into this with you and there are like a few things you need to know and I have to prepare and I haven’t even choose the words yet and I-”

“Chris,” Aaron called when he doesn’t hear him takes a breath.

“Really just want to touch you all over and have my way with you because here you are like right in front of me looking all delicious and hot and literally the embodiment of my wet dream for the past weeks but I know we need to do it slowly and even I can’t survive if we don’t do it slowly and I just feel like I’m spilling on the edge because I miss you we rarely see each other and to finally see you I just wanna-”

“Chris,” Aaron grabbed Chris’ hand and pull slightly. “I know. I missed you too.”

Chris sucked in a breath, eyes wide at Aaron who sits on his bed as if he belonged there. No, this was not Aaron’s intention when he wants to come over, but the thought is intriguing no?

In all relationships before this one, Aaron always played the role Chris is doing now. The patient one, the waiting one, the understanding one, the leading one, the one that gives his partner the ‘go’. Now he’s on the other side of the role, and so far, he’s enjoying it.

Aaron takes off his suit.

“Oh my god, it’s happening!” Chris curled his shoulders in as if to hide, but his eyes wide open.

Aaron chuckled, “You say that as if you don’t want to see me naked.”

“I do!” Chris lands his hand on Aaron’s shoulder so abruptly that he stopped halfway of taking his tie off. “Wait, yeah, I mean... Look,” Chris kneels on the floor, grabbing both of his hands. For once Aaron doesn’t understand why Chris does the things he did.

“I...” Chris trails to a pause. In real-time, Aaron can see how the thousands of Chris’ thoughts drained down into one state of panic, “I’m nervous,” The detective finally says. No childish quirks, just a man, truly afraid.

“You think I’m not?” Aaron cups Chris's distressed face with both his hand on each side. “But I feel safe with you. Just knowing that you worry means a lot to me.”

“I... don’t understand. I’m a mess, I’m afraid that I fuck things up and... and... I just want this to feel good for you too.” Chris just explained what Aaron meant without him realizing it. A person so sweet that it made the back of his throat gulps and his mouth salivate. To his absolute surprise, he felt the smooth alcohol like a burn inside him as he looks at Chris kneeling with hands on his thighs. Those deep blue eyes look so innocent and kind as they look up to him. What a pleasant new-found feeling.

“In my previous relationships, I’m always the one leaned on, not that I mind, just wanted to say that I’ve felt the pressure you’re feeling. When you worry, I know you’ll be careful with me, I feel like I could lean on you. It’s going to be okay.”

Chris blinks, eyebrows knit together, “Of course you can, were you not able to do that before?”

Of course, he does... Wait, does he? He opens his mouth, yet his mind draws a blank.

“Oh, my pretty baby,” Chris coos, slipping his hands on Aaron’s waist and kiss him on the lips.

Aaron kisses him back, pressing his face to his as he closes his eyes. “If you want me, don’t hesitate, just...”

“Slowly?”

“Please.”

The kiss starts chaste, like their first kiss. Hotch doesn’t realize how touch starved he was until now that’s touched with hands that eagerly wants him. He has his experiences with women, but the women that made him feel like this with a kiss, was married to him, and the other dated him briefly. Strong and steady arms loop on his back and hold him tight as the man that owns them kisses him deeper. His own hands grab onto his shoulder while the other raking Chris’ brunette hair with his fingers and pulls him even closer.

The air intake in between kept short and efficient. They paced up their movement with no hurry, with Chris’ hands on his back, he slowly descends him on the mattress. A heavier weight on top of him surprisingly serves comfort at how it grounds him. Thick pair of legs snug between his, grinding teasingly slow. Chris smells of his lemongrass shampoo and his favorite lavender lush soap bar, and Aaron takes in a deep breath of that mixed with his own scent. Soft pulses beat against his hammering heart, pressing generously heavy.

Every subtle movement, even the gentlest made itself known prominently on each other’s senses. The hands cupping Chris’ face trails down to his chest, playing with the contour of his body. Chris’ arms slip away from Hotch’s back and slither down to pull the shirt tucked in his belted hips.

The one carrying the current is Chris, and Aaron is blissfully riding along like a leaf on the mercy of the water stream. It’s a self-surrender that Aaron never felt before. To receive instead of giving. To follow instead of leading. To surrender to another’s arm instead of holding onto them in his.

Whatever playful intention Aaron had –because he was here to cheer Chris up originally- had gone with the lul of this moment.

That is, until a hand slithers under his shirt. Aaron tensed and hold Chris’s hands from moving any more.

“Sorry,” Chris breathed. Thankfully, he doesn’t sound too troubled by Aaron’s sudden stop. “We don’t need to go more than this if you don’t want to.” Whatever expression he wears that made Chris said that he doesn’t like it.

“It’s not that.” Aaron gulps. It’s inevitable anyway, he’ll have to show it sooner or later, Now is a good enough time as any.

Aaron unbuttoned his shirt, wanting to look away from Chris anxious eyes but he doesn’t, for Chris. He knows the scars won’t turn Chris off, but Chris has the tendency to feel strongly to these things despite him trying not to show it on his face, but that’s not what he’s worried about. What worries Aaron was, well, himself. It’s a scar that still feels raw and open.

For every button he undid, a puzzle piece fits in the picture. Then when all the pieces are there, Chris gapes, breathless. Aaron could feel his pained eyes looking at each of the nine stab wounds on his torso.

“Oh... Aaron,” Chris whimpered, that alone makes up for Aaron’s curiosity. Hands travel upon his sides peering in yet never too far, careful not to touch the white lines across his abdomen and chest that were once stab wounds. “I... you don’t have to ever tell me about it... I just... I’m so...”

“I’ll tell you, Chris, maybe not now.”

Chris leans down his temple against Aaron’s collarbone, damp and warm with sweat that was building up. “Does it still hurt you?”

“It’s an old scar, it had healed completely.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Aaron knows. He places his hand at Chris’s trimmed nape, raking his fingers across the prickly short half of his hair and sigh.

“Sometimes.”

Chris hums in reply, placing a kiss on his collarbone as a start, and slowly trails lower. Aaron unclenches his hand and lets Chris go wherever.

“Can I touch them?” Chris asked in a treading whisper. Aaron can feel his question against his skin, sending wavelength of warmth to his chest. No one had asked permission before, but most of them pretend it’s not there, and Aaron was okay with that. Chris is different. Everything he’s done with Chris has all been different. Yet every new territory he stepped in with Chris has been a fulfilling one.

“Yes.”

The kisses trails lower then it landed on the first keloid scar. Then to another one, then another. When Chris reaches for the scar in the abdomen, Aaron gasped slightly at the heightened feeling. Both his fist balled, pulling the sheets slightly.

“If I’m doing something you didn’t want,” Chris said, “Promise that you’ll tell me.”

“I... I promise,” Aaron whispered between the breath.

Chris kisses the last and furthest down scar while he unbuckles Aaron’s belt.

+++++

“His name is Foyet,” Aaron admits to the ceiling. Chris froze on the bathroom’s door frame with freshly brushed teeth wearing nothing but the famous flower boxer.

“Wait, we’re doing this now?” Chris hurries over Aaron’s side and lands his butt on the edge of the bed on his side, bouncing Aaron along. “You don’t have to tell me if it brings back memories.”

The tight grip on his hand made him look at Chris, really look at him. The fear, concern, and worry that blatantly displayed in his face, and no curiosity whatsoever.

“It doesn’t, not anymore.” Not after years of therapy. Chris doesn’t look convinced. Aaron sits up, with a hand on top of Chris’. “Do you want to know?” he asked, unsure himself.

His eyes don’t look blue at the darkness of the room. They opened the window and the city lights were their only light, yet Aaron can feel his eyes looking at his scars. Looking up, Chris looks determined. “Yes.”

So, Aaron told him everything. Foyet, the man who took his whole world from him. How it started with him being presumed as a victim, the deal, the stabbing. It wasn’t the worst part of it. The worst part was how Foyet involved his family. His then ex-wife, Haley and his way too young son Jack were sent to protective custody. Even with that, even with the strings Aaron pulled to keep them safer, Foyet got to him and Aaron was too late. Foyet made Haley calls him as he shoots her on the head with Jack present. When Aaron reached the house, all he sees is red and the next thing he knows, he’s beating Foyet flat to the ground. Each strike he lands, even with the bone-breaking crunch, the man laughs until he died in his hands. He doesn’t know when he died, or which punch that did it, which hands. A coworker needed to pull him away from the dead body, then he ran towards his son’s room to find him bleeding out in his bed while hugging his Yoda figurine. Even after he killed him, it felt he didn’t give the man when he deserved. He didn’t even give his son a quick death, but a slow painful one.

It ate him alive for years thinking the way they died. His son must’ve been so afraid as he bleeds out and his consciousness slipping away, the fear Haley must’ve felt when she faced Foyet. Aaron promised that he’ll make it up to her for the rest of his life after everything’s done, and he still does. For a long time, Aaron doesn’t know what else to live for and found it back with them.

He never told anyone this much. The bureau’s psychiatrist had his file so he doesn’t need to say much. His relationship with Beth ended before he could tell her. In each word he says, the scar made itself known. At the end of his tale, his mouth is dry, and his heart on his hand where Chris is holding with trembling hands.

“Oh god, Aaron.” Chris sobs, but just as Aaron predicted, he’s holding back tears behind haunted eyes. “That’s horrible.” Chris held Aaron’s hand tighter.

“It is,” Aaron admitted.

“I’m glad that he died, even more knowing that you killed him, but how do you get away from the bureau with that?”

“Not without a fight and justification. I was a prosecutor, after all, I know my way around.”

“Still,” Chris catches himself after hearing his voice broke, “Ugh, the justice system is so fucked up, and I’m the justice system.”

“We’re but a gear among many.”

“I know you must’ve heard it a lot before, but I’m so sorry it happened to you.”

“I don’t actually.”

“Don’t what?”

“Not a lot of people said they’re sorry. My colleague didn’t say it, they don’t need to, I already know. Not a lot of people know about it since it’s highly classified for my sake. My ex’s family blamed me for what happened, so they’re not sorry for me.”

Chris falls into a solemn silence. His face rids of his usual playfulness or even sorrow. Just an empty expressionless mask as he stares down their clasp hands. It’s an eerie thing to see Chris slips out into this character. It’s foreign, but it’s still undoubtedly Chris, and that’s what terrifies him.

“It doesn’t happen to you anymore,” Chris says monotonously.

“Are you talking about me or yourself?” Aaron baited, and Chris finally looks up from their hands.

“For both of us.” Chris weakly smiled. “It’s just so sad, and I think I just broke there because... well, I can’t see the sunny part of it. There’s a bright side of everything, I know that. I just can’t see it in your case other than that it doesn’t happen to you anymore, and it’s never going to happen to you anymore because he’s gone.”

“You’re right.”

“Then why do you look like that?” Chris asked.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s still happening to you.”

Aaron didn’t see that question coming, even after knowing Chris’ character, sometimes the serious part of Chris often comes unseen.

“Because I never let myself forget. For the first years, after it happened, I don’t let myself forget by not forgiving myself.” The confession had been a dead weight he carried through the years. He told himself that he deserves the gaining weight he carries, even when he’s telling the bureau’s psychiatrist. Now, it’s different, because someone with teary deep blue eyes is telling him that it doesn’t happen to him anymore.

“Is that the reason why you’re always working late? Because of guilt?”

“I was, but not anymore.”

“But you still do it.”

“A habit.”

Chris hums, his eyes no longer wet in tears, but piercing and searching into him.

“I know how it feels to come home to a quiet house. I’ve lost...” Chris trails away, going quiet. Just a look at Chris’s face and Aaron knew he finally found someone that understands the loss he felt, and he’s not grateful for it. “I’ve lost more than I can handle in a short amount of time. I know how it feels, not wanting to come home, because... well, there’s no one to come home to. The empty rooms are all that I can get, though it’s needed sometimes.”

Aaron gulped. He knows Chris is right, but he never hears it loud and clear, or hear anyone says it to his face.

“We can do something about that!” Chris cheered and Aaron leans back, perplexed by the quick turn. “When it gets too quiet, let call!”

Aaron gapes for a few seconds before finally regaining his voice, “I can’t call you every day.”

“I not talking about everyday, silly. I know we’re too busy for every day, just when you have the feeling that you intentionally don’t want to go home when you should’ve, let’s call.” Chris noted the unsure look on Aaron’s face and leans closer with both his hand perching between Aaron’s waist. “Look, we don’t even need to talk, just going online on WhatsApp voice call. That way I’ll be just around the corner for small talk or even petty question.”

“You’d do that?” Hotch doesn’t know how he looked, but the way Chris smiles at him so full of compassion fills a void that’s been gaping for a long time.

“You’re not asking too much of me, I promise. I want to call too.”

After a smile, Hotch finally nodding in agreement. “Thank you.”

Chris slips his arms around Aaron’s torso and hugged tightly. “By the way, I didn’t say this before, but the scars look really sexy on you, sorry.”

Aaron chuckled, “Don’t be, that’s the first time someone doesn’t pity the scars I have.”

++++

“SSA Hotchner.”

“You’re still at the office?”

“Yes.”

“Aaron,” the voice firmed up.

That’s when Aaron finally tore his eyes away from his reports and looks at the caller ID, seeing Chris’s name.

“Just landed, this paper is last minute.”

“Uh-huh,” Chris doesn’t sound convinced. “Oh, by the way, thank you for the gift.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, I was in tears, then conveniently wiping my tears with it.”

Hotch chuckled, “Is it really tears worthy?”

“It deserves a bucket of it, mostly because of laughter, mostly because I imagine you making it. When did you even find the time?”

“I spent a few minutes before bed on it.”

“Awww, okay I’m not mad anymore, but look at the time Aaron Hotchner! I know the watch I gave you still works, it’s time to go home. I’ll read for you again if you needed to.”

Aaron looks down at his wrist. Black leather and titanium steel. Silver needle points at an 11 and a 10. “I’d like that.”

“Okay, call me when you’re home, bye hon.”

“Bye.”

The line disconnected, and Hotch looks up to see Rossi standing there with a smug smile.

“And what would that gift be, that it made a grown man cry?” Rossi steps inside and hands him a folder.

“I knit him a handkerchief with a cat on it, it’s surprisingly easy.”

“You? Knitting?” Rossi said with eyes balked, rising a tone on each word.

“It’s surprisingly therapeutic.”

Rossi shook his head and chuckles, “Look at you two! Already acting like a pair of an old married couple. I didn’t think you two will even go that far, I was skeptical, not gonna lie.”

“Me too,” he admitted, “But I really like him.”

There’s a playful glint in Rossi’s eyes, a mischievous intent, “So, what’s your status?”

“What do you mean?”

Rossi gave him a look and Aaron, for the lack of a better word, ‘got caught.’ He never thought of it before. He just assumes that Chris and he are in a relationship, but now that he thinks about it, none of them had established that.

“You’re getting rusty there boy,” Rossi smirks, enjoying Aaron’s demise.

“Well I might be, but it helps that Chris is as rusty at this as I am.”

+++++

“I know the sound of that sigh,” chirped a high pitched voice from the desk in front of him, then followed by a screech from plastic wheels scraping the floor.

Chris pushes himself to the side, away from his messy desk filled with due reports and a computer screen filled with even more words and updated evidence. Wheels from his old chair squeaks and he meets a done expression from a blond with glossy pink lips.

“Trouble in paradise?” She beats him to it.

“Nothing like that Haily, just tryna take care of my...” Chris froze. Haily arched her permanently made eyebrows, watching Chris like he just got a stroke.

Why didn’t he ever think about this before? They never established a relationship. Like who are they? Are they still in the probation period? Because it doesn’t feel that way. Now that it doesn’t feel that way, what are they gonna do now?

“Really Chris? Don’t tell me you haven’t asked him to be your boyfriend yet. I taught you better than that.” Haily’s loud voice is mercifully is on a lower side as she said that.

“I... I don’t know! I was waiting for him, and I don’t want to be the one that pushes!”

“You said you have a heart to heart a couple of weeks ago! Isn’t that the green light?”

“I think so... I mean, it has to be but I can’t be sure.”

Haily knits her eyebrows together so hard it’ almost looked like a unibrow, pursing her lips as she lands her pretty tiny face on her long manicured hands. “Did he do something that makes you second guess?”

Chris shakes his head vigorously, “It’s not that... He’s perfect, Haily. He’s the tall dark and handsome type I love. And his body! Oh my god, that fucking suit had fooled me for months! His body is an absolute unit. Like, dense and packed with full power!” Chris sighed breathlessly as he wipes a sweat on his temple while Haily rolled her eyes. “But inside that hard exterior is this dreamy soft and gooey heart. But... do you remember 2015?”

Haily dropped her frown, pale blue eyes open in surprise, “How far have you gone?”

“To the moon.”

“Chrissy,” Haily awed, pushing with her work leather heel and pushes her office chair to bump with his. “This one won’t crash and burn like the dumpster fire of 2015, I promise.”

Chris rubs his face and lay on his hand, “How would you know?”

“You gotta trust me, honey,” Haily drapes her skinny arms around Chris’ shoulder, “I’ve seen you grow, you’re more mature now and Aaron is different than her. It won’t happen again.”

“You haven’t even met him yet.”

“Shh shhh shhh, I just know okay? Though opinion may change after I see him, maybe.”

Chris just gave a weak smile, he went weak in the knees at how he’s going to bring this conversation up. They’re already comfortable being where they are now, being who they are. If Chris brings it up... what if Aaron taps out?

“Hey! I don’t wanna see those wrinkles,” Haily press her fingers between Chris’ brows. He flinched back, pouting. “What were you texting bout with mister cool and sexy anyway?” Give it to Haily to know who’s texting who without seeing. She said it’s in the typing sound, the hesitating pauses, the excited rapid punches. Chris is still learning, still doesn’t get it.

“I was lecturing him about staying late at the office,” Chris admitted bashfully.

Haily narrowed her eyes at Chris, scoffing, “And where are we at this same hour?”

“Our office...”

“Go home Chris, then call your boo.”

“Okay,” Chris takes his bag and put on his jacket, “How bout you?”

“I lost that bet with Santiago and had some extra reports, but I’m done now,” She takes her purse, “Come now baby, let’s ditch this dump!”

+++++

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re burning the banana.”

“Oh shit!”

Chris yank the pan away and throw it to the counter beside the stove while turning it off. Poor banana... it’s burnt on the sides, sticking to the pan. Poor bacon and eggs, why are they mixed with a banana?

“Why are you searing banana with bacon and eggs,” Aaron chirped, looking down at the monstrosity Chris had created.

“I don’t know,” Chris mused, not daring to look up to look at Aaron after what he’d done to his pan, and other things too of course. “Sorry about burning our dinner.”

“Wanna eat out?”

“Yeah, I mean... we have to,” Chris looked pointedly at the pan, suddenly feeling exhausted. He just came back from work when he jumps into the train to see Aaron, who happens to just land from a case.

He thought the homey environment would make it easier to have ‘the talk’ but it’s not.

“I can hear the gear in your head turning,” Aaron bumps his shoulder against Chris, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking of places to go to.” Smooth af Chris. “I’m feeling fast foods.”

Chris turns around to get his jacket, but Aaron steps in, planting firm palms against the counter, trapping him in between. Aaron leans forward and Chris froze.

“What...” Chris blurted, the space between them and the position of him being trapped killed half of his brain cells.

“You hate fast food,” Aaron stated.

Rats! “Can’t a guy have some cravings?” not really... he hated fast food. This smooth youthful skin doesn’t clear itself. How else do you think he looked this young despite his age?

“I know something is bothering you.” Aaron squints his eyes, and Chris’ heart thrum rapidly. He’s being profiled, oh no. “You insisted on coming to my place instead, so whatever you wanted to tell me, if it goes bad, you can easily leave without making me feel bad.”

“You have to guess what I was about to say first,” Chris played along, almost glad that he doesn’t need to say it.

“You wanted to end our relationship.”

Chris gasped so loud he almost choked on his own breath. He grips Aaron’s biceps, “Wha- No! Are you crazy!”

Aaron just chuckled shyly. Chris blinks, perplexed. “I know it’s not that now.”

“I... what, you really think there’s a possibility I would want that? Aaron... maybe you’re not as good as a profiler as you thought.” Chris doesn’t mean that. It’s just that Aaron is legit a dumbass if he ever thinks of Chris ever wanting to let him go.

He’ll never find anyone like Aaron again. Someone who treats him seriously even though he tended to act like a dumb bitch outside of work even at his age and with his profession. Someone that... well, loves him back with the same intensity as him. Someone that doesn’t comment on his weird-ass hobbies and quirks... yet.

“What else was I suppose to think you’re gonna say?” he asked with the softest smile that still makes Chris turn all warm and gooey inside. “You haven’t looked at me in the eyes since you walked in.”

“I was about to ask you to be my boyfriend, Aaron, geez...” Then his breath hitched. The words just slid off his tongue. His grip on Aaron loosens, ready to bolt. But Aaron’s arms still entrapping him between his suit wrapped body and the counter, then his face mellows, not even a tinge of shock.

“Yes,” Aaron says and leans down to kiss him.

“Wait...” Chris says between kisses, “You knew!”

“To be fair, I only knew after hearing your reaction.”

“Well, fudge sticks... There goes the rest of my 5-day plan.”

“Sorry to spoil your unnecessarily long plan. Now, what do you really want to eat?”

“I wanna go to Trader Joe’s so we can make some chicken salad and pasta.”

Aaron smiled at him, though it just looks a bit different than his usual heart eyes. Sickly sweet, soft and fluffy smile. Just something else Chris can’t point out, and he doesn’t know what makes Aaron that excited for his mediocre chicken salad and pasta.

“Let’s go then.” Aaron finally lets go of his arms and wraps them in Chris’s waist instead. His face buries at the crook of his neck.

Chris wraps around his around Aaron’s shoulder. He doesn’t question as they stay there just hugging.

This feels nice. Chris wants to feel like this for as long as he lives. Whoa! That’s some heavy feelings there, maybe it’s what Aaron felt too? Well, he’s going to ask if Aaron wants to spend the rest of his days with him too someday, but not today.

Today’s menu is hugs, food, and Netflix until they sleep on each other.

#aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanf #Aaron hotchner x OC #aaron hotchner x male original character #contains spoilers #morgan x reid #but minor though

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