#Lever Handles on Back Plate sets

[oldworldgal]

{ gen, 8k words, rated T+ }

Nick wasn't expecting any rescue party to show—but nothing surprises him more than who exactly comes knocking. Some mysteries walk and talk and follow you to hell and back.

characters: Female Sole Survivor, Nick Valentine, Piper Wright, Hawthorne, John Hancock, Skinny Malone

warnings: references to child death, canon-typical violence, brief senses of unreality

tags: Chance Meetings, Nick and Sole have a slight history (but not like that), Canon Rewrite, One Shot

link to ao3

full fic under the cut

It’s on the twelfth day of his captivity that he hears the gunfire. Long, empty hours interrupted by the sudden and muffled but unmistakable reports from some distant place behind lead and steel and dirt.

He pauses in his pacing, listening intently, gaze shot toward the lone porthole of a window in this, his cushy prison cell. Only, there’s no disturbance on the other side of that glass. A few seconds more and the great thumping slows then ceases, like the death throes of some immense beast.

His personal watchdog and unfortunate company for the evening didn’t hear it.

He gives a short hum in thought because the noises were… peculiar. More echo than anything, with a deep metallic timbre when they thundered into the room, emanating from a particular place. Opposite from the door and window.

He drifts toward that area now, and doesn’t have to wait long for another burst of far-off violence. The steel of his skeletal hand meets a set of standing shelves with a tap, and on hidden wheels they move easily away from the wall.

Behind those shelves, a certain panel of the fake wood vinyl has a larger gap around the edges compared to its neighbors.

And here he thought he’d already found everything there was to find in here. The terminal alone he went through five times from a sheer lack of anything else to do.

With a brief glance cast back over his shoulder, he tests the gap with his metal digits—his most resourceful set of tools, he would have to admit. Not the first false panel they’ve pried up, and he still has a bit of hope that it won’t be the last.

Once a thin fingertip is jabbed behind it, the vinyl comes away as easily as a page in a book. A solid section little more than two feet wide, three feet tall. Only when he sets it aside it doesn’t reveal any door or hidden passageway and for the first time in his operational existence he’s glad for that fact, even if it would have made his predicament a hell of a lot simpler. Going two weeks in this godforsaken box-in-a-box without spotting it simply would have been too much. He’d have hung up his hat on principle.

But what does lie behind that panel might be even more curious.

Five circular vents, each about the size of a plate of Port-a-Diner pie. The radial slats are all shut tight and each vent has a little handle that could be levered out and pulled clockwise a short distance, presumably to open them.

“Huh,” Nick Valentine says.

Someday he’d have to answer once and for all the question that nags at him the most: why exactly mysteries are so prone to finding their way onto his lap even when he’s not looking for them.

But for now, at least he has something to do.

The preceding minute and a half of silence is cut short by two dull but decisive bangs, each chased by a faint metallic rattle. It ceases just as the synthetic polymer that serves as Nick’s skin touches the first vent. Still, he thinks he can feel the last traces of reverberation, picked up by the filaments winding through his endoskeleton all the way down to the fingertips of his left hand.

He waits. Whatever it was, it’s probably now over before it even really began. There’d been no less than five shmucks at the front office alone when he himself had strolled into the Park Street station a week ago, and many more besides from there to the vault entrance itself, from which he suspects the sound first originated. And they all are armed to the teeth. (How confident he’d been then, that he and Malone could have worked this out like decent men. Like old acquaintances if not old friends.)

But then—there it is again. No more than ten minutes go by before another ruckus kicks off. And this next volley of gunfire is a prolonged spat, more unsettling the longer it goes on, accompanied by indistinct shouting. Whoever’s here, it is one hell of a party.

It’s the second vent that shudders ever so slightly this time. Flicking that particular handle out and easing it down rotates an interior plate just enough for a yawning void to peek through the slats. Just enough for the gunshots to become not exactly clear but a hell of a lot sharper: the tell-tale rattle of a whole fleet of weaponry that he doesn’t have to guess at the make and model of, having been prodded and jeered at with them enough times these past two weeks to last him a couple more generations. That many automatics working together forms the rhythmic and systematic sound of manufacture, a diligent and savage machine, but behind it are a few stabs of sound that are certainly a pistol or two, punctuated by the booms of some maniac with a shotgun. Boom. Boom-boom. Two maniacs with shotguns?

So perhaps four people total, if none of the SMGs making up the industrial clatter are on the away team. Too few to be a rival gang, not enough explosions or general chaos to be raiders. But the notion of a rescue party seems unlikeliest of all; all of three people outside this vault are aware of Nick’s last known whereabouts and none of those people are crazy enough to pull off this stunt, which is sounding mostly like an interesting way to die by suicide.

Nick closes the vent again and sticks on his thinking cap. (That is, he resumes his pacing and taps out his last prized cigarette, jabbing it between unfeeling, crumbling lips. He doesn’t light it just yet—if all else fails it could still come in handy, if not as a tool then a bargaining chip with some particularly dull and desperate tough.) The gunfire continues, muted once again. Just firecrackers down the street, lit by the neighborhood kids.

There’s no telling what Skinny Malone plans to do with him. If it were only Skinny he were dealing with, the gangster might let him walk. But not with that new moll by his side. She knows just what buttons to push and where they are.

The only thing Nick detests more than being locked in a room with absolutely nothing of interest for two weeks is leaving a case unresolved—or letting it end unhappily. Tragedy is already too common in their current era for him to not fight for something better, come hell or high water—but right now, his priority needs to be getting out. There’ll be more happy ever afters.

Second-best case scenario, he can use the ongoing chaos to his advantage and slip out between the cracks one way or another. He’s made crazier escapes. But if the assailants are actually here for him—wishful thinking—there’s not much he can contribute from inside this private little retreat of his, much as he’d like to.

Just as he turns to complete his ambulatory circuit he pauses, thinking back to the first day he’d been thrown into this office. Going through the various drawers and cabinets had produced the construction plans for the vault. And wasn’t the map divided into sections, delineated by pen, by hand? Numbers One through Five?

Nick wheels around and grabs for where he stashed it, wedged beside a drawer in the desk, sure it would be useful. When it’s laid out on the ground out of sight of the window, with one rusty phalange he traces the section labeled ‘2’—Maintenance, right at the edge of the unfinished excavation site. There’s a tumbleweed of scribbled ink; a rough dot in the middle of the hallway that he would bet his hat marks the location of a suspect and oddly conical air duct. Rather effective at funneling sound right up to the Overseer’s office through a network of metal tubes that perhaps would have been replaced with a more sophisticated system had the vault ever actually been completed. A simple method reminiscent of the old Old World, but there’s some artistry to it. He could at least hand them that, the nosy, voyeuristic bastards.

If he can’t physically help his unknown hypothetical saviors, he could at least keep track of their progress and maybe suss out their destination. Won’t do him much good if they drop dead at the front door.

For an hour he listens to the intermittent bouts and tracks their movements from one section to the next, his optics flicking from the map to the little porthole window that serves as his only view of the world outside every time he has to inch open a vent to get a better bead on their location. It seems more and more unbelievable that the man on the other side of that window hasn’t heard the gunfire, even as the party draws closer. But then, the large gaps between volleys seem to suggest that many of his gracious hosts are being caught unaware. Turns out that vaults aren’t just marvels of architectural engineering and capitalist greed and moral deficiency, but of soundproofing as well.

Or maybe Dino just fell asleep outside. Surely Nick couldn’t be that lucky.

Regardless, the longer the racket drags on and the closer the newcomers get to the atrium, the more Nick can’t help but get his hopes up, to the point where the long stretches of silence in-between become somehow even more worrisome than the gunplay itself. It’s a veritable war out there, the whole of the Malone Crew bearing down on this small, over-ambitious force.

And still they push forward. And still their guns number four. The sheer force of will or providence or skill or even luck is nothing short of inspiring. Nick finds that he’d like to get to meet them after all, whoever they are.

Perhaps it is this thought that finally ends his own internal war that he’d been conducting, judging what horse to bet on, what his best move might be. To play it safe and hide and wait for his mysterious benefactors to scour every last inch of the vault when their bloody work is done (because no scavenger worth their salt would pass up a locked door in a vault) and jump out when the time is right? Or to hope for friendlies and maybe distract his guard dog from their arrival? Maybe even send him packing, if Nick could play his cards right.

The gunfire draws ever closer to Vent 4. Passes right beneath it, and away again. The inky dot is just a few halls away from the Atrium.

What’ll it be, Nicky? Hope or hide?

“Ah, hell,” he finally mutters, making it to his feet with the creak of a joint or three, a ting in the left knee in particular, which hasn’t sounded quite right since his date with a certain young lady and her baseball bat. There was only so much repair work he could attempt with what he had on him and what he could find in this glorified box.

He needs eyes on the door to the Atrium, and he’s gotten pretty damn tired of sitting still and shutting up for days on end, anyway.

Nick straightens out his shirtsleeves, fastens the cuffs, snatches his coat from the back of the mostly dismantled office chair. Everything is put where it ought to be: coat slipped on, collar straightened, wall panel placed over the vents, shelves in front of the panel, and finally the map tucked into an inside pocket of the coat. He suspects no one here is going to need it anymore after today.

His last cig he holds casually aloft between two skeletal digits as he approaches the window, casting a glance up and down the walkway outside, across the atrium to the door on the second tier walkway below, and over the tables and their assorted relics and detritus on the open bottom floor. No sign of Dino, but no sign of any of his fellows, either.

“What’s a guy gotta do for some decent conversation around here?” he calls out in the crankiest voice he could muster.

There’s a pause, the scrape of chair legs across the floor, a leisurely tap. tap. tap. of footsteps before Dino’s form appears, smug as ever, hands tucked in his pockets.

Nick was right. The man hasn’t a single damn clue. And there’s no movement in the rest of the room that he can see.

Nick composes his expression into something he hopes is monumentally unimpressed. Not that this particularly pugnacious foe is difficult to goad. “You’re still here? Ah, and here I was hoping for something civil.”

“What’s the matter, Valentine?” Dino jeers. “Ya gettin’ bored? Want a snack?”

He rolls his cigarette between three fingertips, considers it briefly while he speaks. “Dino, you and I both know the only appetizer with which you’re familiar is a knuckle sandwich. And not a particularly good one, I’d wager.”

No dice. The man doesn’t spare a glance toward the object of temptation. Not a smoker. But at least he loves to hear himself talk.

“Naw, don’t be sore about Darla givin’ you what-for. The leg still in three pieces? Ya lookin’ to own a matchin’ set, that it?”

Nick doesn’t have to look directly at a certain door across the room to see it open as the goon chatters on, oblivious. Now or never. He can use the threats and the topic of Darla to pull the ace from his sleeve: an important morsel of information he’s kept in mind from years past, about a certain little black book belonging to a certain ironically named mob boss, and the nature of the names written within back then. It’s sure to keep his attention, at the very least.

Nick opens his mouth and Dino’s blood and brains explode across the window with a crack. His body flops to the ground.

“Christ,” he sighs quietly to himself. Well, that’s one way to solve a problem. He looks to the proffered smoke in his hand, what could have been a peace offering, and at that turn of events finally lights it up with a few flicks of his lighter. He raises it in a silent salute. So long, Dino, you sorry jackass.

His imprisonment, it seems, is finally coming to an end one way or another. Whether what’s next is better or worse remains to be seen.

It’s quiet outside, and difficult to see through the red painting most of the glass. Only the faintest shuffling; steps on the stairs. Detectable only through the echo it sends through the room.

Though weaponless, Nick Valentine readies himself. Come what may.

And still he could not have prepared for the face that pops into the window, peering around the gore.

“Nicky,” Piper chides with a relieved grin, “we gotta stop meeting like this.”

“Piper?” He manages to keep his composure though the revelation could have bowled him over. Piper lead the charge into a vault through what must have been dozens of mobsters, and survived? She’s a decent shot, but running and gunning isn’t typically her style. And last he knew, she was on an extended investigation in Southie. He gives an astounded chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m always happy to see your face, Ms. Wright, but never more than in this moment.” There’s a flash of movement behind her, a single person rushing past.

“And you look like hell,” Piper replies with a brief glance spared toward the terminal barring his exit. “Geez, Nick, what’d they do to you?” At this she looks genuinely disturbed, eyes lingering on oil stains and fresh damage to his jaw. Not even the worst of it, since she can’t see the torn pant leg. One of his best pairs, of course.

He waves away the concern with a tap of his cigarette, dispensing flakes of ash to tumble through the air before returning it to its perch between his lips. “I’ll be fine, as long as you get me the hell out of here. Boredom is the mind-killer, Piper, and the amenities here are somewhat lacking.”

Before she can reply there’s a faint beep from the terminal, cracked in record time, and a muffled, indistinct voice. Piper’s visage disappears from the window, and he follows suit.

Nick stands a few feet back as the door hisses open, but his reporter friend isn’t the one it unveils.

The woman standing in the doorway, light pouring around her into the dim office, seems more a vision than something of this grim reality. An ancient kind of beauty, something that peers out of a magazine, something from so long ago that it might as well have been from a different world altogether.

Strangely familiar. The kind of beauty that has gone long extinct.

It’s not even the measure of her looks, necessarily. It’s the particular quality, from the neatness of her brows to her unblemished skin all the way down to the way she’s tied off her button down above the waist of her jeans, making a hundredfold hand-me-down look like the height of fashion. A faded red is even detectable staining her lips.

The only things anchoring her in this world are the grime on her clothes, the threadbare patches, the submachine gun cradled in the crook of a lightly bandaged arm that also bears a near-pristine Pip-Boy. The way a few runaway brown curls have escaped her ponytail to cling to the sheen on her neck. And then the blood flecking her shirt. Some of these don’t seem to suit her, but actually a few kind of add to her charm.

And when she in turn first sees him, those blue eyes narrow inquisitively, as if discerning something.

That specific look sparks something buried deep, a fish nibbling at the surface of a murky, neglected pond. Nick starts to shuffle through the filing cabinet that is his memory, searching.

Whatever she was looking for, she finds it fast. Disbelief relaxes her eyes and she gives a half-laugh, mouth slanted in awe. Shouldn’t those lips of hers be painted a dusty rose?

“Detective Valentine,” she greets, like she knows him. Her voice, low but soft and suited for late-night radio, is definitely colored with recognition.

Recognition…something about that voice…

A hand curls to prop itself on a protruding hip, and those nails should be jewel-toned, and longer, and not chipped.

A sense of unreality instantly descends over him. Or it would if not, he suspects, for the fact that his synapses are synthetic. It hasn’t escaped his notice these past decades that he owes his sustained sanity to his mechanical body.

“Holy Hell,” Nick says eloquently, and the cigarette drops right back out of his mouth to scatter sparks on the floor, forgotten because he has remembered. The sleek skirt and heels, a courteous smile but decisive questions. The daily impeccable cascade of side-parted waves. The bands of brown around her pupils, islands nestled in the blue.

All of a sudden, he’s not the only specter of the 21st century.

“Montgomery,” is the name that finds its way to his mouth, a lightbulb beginning to flicker on behind his optics, the years flipping all the way back to the earliest files in the cabinet. What was her na—? “Natalia,” he says in revelation, sure this time. “The hit-and-run in front of Castello’s.” A shake of his head. “How the hell are you alive?” And—he doesn’t voice this thought—still in the condition you’re in?

“Whoa,” Piper answers in her stead, looking between them in bafflement, “whoa, whoa, hold on. You know each other? You didn’t say you knew each other.”

The woman opens her mouth, hesitates. “What you had said, I—I just didn’t think it could possibly…”

“Well, well,” chimes in another familiar voice from down the walkway, albeit this one with the tonal quality of sandpaper in a box of rocks. “200 years and the gals still chase after ya. And I thought I had game.”

It effectively broke the spell over the impromptu reunion and Nick follows that voice outside to meet the rest of the crazy crew they’d gathered. And in terms of mugs he wasn’t expecting to see today, on a scale of Piper Wright to Natalia Montgomery the glazed eyes and beef-jerky complexion of one John Hancock ranks somewhere right under halfway. The ghoul stands at the railing, frock coat, tricorn, and all, a double-barrel resting against his shoulder in a deceptively casual manner. The pale lenses of his eyes occasionally rove the floors below, keeping a sharp look out despite all appearances.

“Ah, Mr. Mayor,” Nick says at the sight. Not often you see him outside of his domain, but this perilous endeavor made a hell of a lot more sense now. He knew Hancock to be more than slightly insane on his best days. “Well, I guess now there’s no use asking who popped our friend Dino, here.” His optics stray to the body between them, the pooling blood just now slowing to a crawl. Shame about the suit.

“What can I say,” Hancock replies with a vicious nonchalance, suddenly producing a 10mm from his coat and spinning it once around his trigger finger. “I don’t take kindly to people threatening friends of mine.” He smiles. “I’m considering us even now.”

Nick eyes him with some skepticism as he steps to the body of Dino to see if he couldn’t secure a weapon of his own. His revolver is surely a lost cause by now, stashed somewhere in the depths of the vault. “You would.”

The ghoul flips the pistol once more, offering the grip towards the old-but-newcomer, and Montgomery takes it with a degree of uncertainty. “Thanks for the loan, doll.”

There’s a handgun in the waistband at Dino’s back and Nick slips it free. An aging Mauser in remarkable condition, with its slim protruding barrel and boxy magazine. A similar enough profile that it should fit the shoulder holster beneath his coat. He pulls back the hammer and checks the magazine. 9mm is rather rare in the Commonwealth, but with the firepower surrounding him, it’ll do for now. Gun like this shouldn’t go to waste, in any case. It must have cost a fortune. Or a life.

Nick looks to the grisly corpse below him. Well. Two lives, now.

Lastly, he checks the man’s pockets for extra ammunition and comes up with three clips in one and in the other, a familiar rectangular silhouette. “Ah,” he says as he pulls out the cigarettes and gives the pack a shake. More than just a few. Dino was holding out on him, the rascal. “No wonder. Cheers, pal,” he adds in farewell before finally standing to rejoin his rescue party.

With most of their greetings over with an uneasy quiet had settled over the group, each holding their weapon ready with varying degrees of confidence. The only expression visibly flagging was that of his former acquaintance, the ex-lawyer. This is new to her; the shooting, the blood, the death. He’s seen a similar look on more than one Vault Dweller, not to mention a certain wearable computer. Really, it was as if their last acquaintance couldn’t have been all that long ago.

Mysteries abound.

Nick looks to the other two in turn. That accounts for two pistols and a shotgun. “So, where’s the fourth member of this little get-together?”

Montgomery looks to him in momentary surprise and begins to motion over the railing with a tilt of her head, her lips parting before:

Tap-tap. A metallic knocking. From below.

“Heads up,” Hancock mutters, and everyone drops to a crouch in concert.

In the ensuing silence voices could be heard below and behind them, further away than the alerting sound, in a hall that leads to the living quarters and, naturally, the way out.

There’s a duet of clicking safety switches alongside him and they all aim towards the bottom floor and wait. With a setup like this Nick can begin to see how at least some of the mobsters didn’t stand a chance. His optics rove for any hint of the mysterious fourth individual, hoping they’re nowhere in the line of fire.

A door hisses open.

“Dino! Quit razzing that detective and go grab Simon, you’re late for the game.”

A pause.

Again, louder. “Hey! Wake up sunshine; move your ass! You two ain’t clearin’ us out this time!”

A longer pause, a shuffle. In the corner of Nick’s vision, Hancock adjusts his grip, eager but calm.

“The hell…?”

A second voice. “Well, where the fuck is he?”

And then several pairs of shoes against concrete, unhurried. At least three people.

Nick’s finger brushes the trigger. One trilby appears out from under the walkway below them, then another, tilting up—he begins to squeeze—

A boom, and blood blooms out in a fan-shaped array below them. Cries of impact and surprise.

Thump. One body.

Boom.

Two bodies.

One staggers backwards, further into room and into view, bumping into a table. “Oh sh—”

Nick pulls the trigger.

Thump. Three bodies.

They wait. The sound of a shotgun cracking open, shells slipped inside, and snapped back shut. “We’re clear. Better get moving.”

And golly, he knows that one too.

A handsome face of dark brown skin and close cropped hair pokes out from under the walkway and peers up at them as Hawthorne emerges from the corner where he’d hid. “Hey there, Nick. Glad you’re in one piece.”

“Hawthorne,” he greets with a slight tip of his hat as he stands again, “Good to see you.” With each new face, he understands more and more how they could have made it this far. Hawthorne is a talented gun-for-hire, has a steady head on his shoulders, and is always willing to help friends. A good man.

His expertise, Piper’s instincts, and Hancock’s brutal will to do whatever’s necessary make for quite a cocktail. Time will tell what Montgomery brings to the table, he supposes.

“All this for little old me?” Nick muses once they’d reconvened on the bottom floor. “Hope I’m not the one footing the bill.”

“Couldn’t abide by our favorite detective being in need,” Hawthorne grins at him. “My gran would be real upset, after what you’d done for Freckles.”

Nick pats him on the shoulder in greeting and gratitude while Hancock and Piper search the fallen, dispensing (or pocketing) ammo and caps. “We certainly can’t have that. How is Eustace?”

“Still waiting on that afternoon tea.”

“Ah,” Nick says regretfully. “I keep meaning to stop by. The work piles up.”

The man nods sagely. “Cheating husband, priceless missing artifact, getting kidnapped and held prisoner for weeks. I know how it is.”

Nick chuckles. “Oh, I’m afraid I walked right into this one. They didn’t used to be so bad,” he says with a glance back to the bodies before he pokes his head into the hall ahead, pistol at the ready. Quiet and still as the grave. “But what changes a man more than time? And misguided affection, I guess,” he continues, mostly to himself. And grief. He looks back to his friends. “Speaking of, any sign of the man himself?”

Hawthorne gives a grim shake of the head. “Not yet.”

“Still can’t believe the great Nick Valentine got taken out by Skinny Malone of all people,” Hancock approaches with jangling pockets. “This guy is smalltime. Couldn’t find his own ass with both hands.”

“Turns out trust may be the most dangerous possession of all,” Nick surmises. He glances between the others. “We all set?”

Weapons are once again readied and they advance. Nick witnesses the group’s careful gameplan in real-time, how they compensate for Montgomery’s inexperience with Piper shifting in front and her retreating behind, and Hancock and Hawthorne taking point for both of them with the scatterguns.

They find themselves in the lavatory, two groups of showers and toilets on either side of the long hall, and each room is quickly declared clear.

Nick positions himself by the door at the end and nods to the others. Hawthorne takes the other side, raises three fingers, then two, and then one. Nick hits the button and braces.

The door doesn’t move. Doesn’t even make a sound.

“Hell,” he mutters, inspecting the panel. One obstacle after another. “They can’t even maintain such an exceptional hideout? …This’ll take me a minute.” At least it’s not a tumbler lock. With the current company present, he could do without the comments from Piper about his phalange being hinge-deep in a keyhole.

“So,” she starts anyway, looking between Nick and over her shoulder at their new friend. He nearly gives her a warning look, but a different topic has her attention, for once. “About you two knowing each other.”

Halfway back down the hall, Montgomery is testing a water fountain and looking in surprise at her Pip-Boy when it fails to give any cautionary tck-tck-tcks.

“A passing acquaintance in the courtroom,” is Nick’s answer as he inspects two wires, prepares to strip them. It was so long ago. A different life entirely.

“Oh?”

“I… was a defense attorney,” the other woman says at length as she swiftly shrugs off the pack on her back, a military-issue brown canvas rucksack in shockingly good condition. There’s a name embroidered on the flap, one N. ANDREWS.

“And you were both on the same case…?” Piper asks, needling for details. She does love to hear about how justice used to function. When it actually did.

“Well, this one wasn’t typically my beat,” he says simply, and Montgomery smiles as she digs out a canteen and two stocky brown liquor bottles.

“He was the witness, actually,” she elaborates. She dumps out one bottle of not-quite-clear liquid and starts refilling them with the most precious commodity of all in their new age.

“Guy ran his Corvega into a man in front of a sandwich shop and took off,” Nick explains. “Broke a leg and fractured two of the unfortunate victim’s ribs, if I recall. Only reason Nick was involved was good timing and a weakness for mortadella on focaccia.”

The professional façade on Hawthorne’s face cracks as the man looks at him perplexed and asks, “I’m sorry, whattadilla on fuck-a-what?” and Piper gives a snort in laughter.

Montgomery’s eyes linger on Nick in silent question, probably at the usage of the third person. But it will be awhile before he digs into that particular bag of cats.

“So, what happened?” Piper looks back at the former attorney. “You defended the guy?”

She sighs, and Nick has to give a chuckle at the memory of the trial. He speaks up again when she doesn’t, apparently reticent about that particular client. Or maybe speaking of that other life at all is simply too painful. Perhaps the wound, too fresh?

“Well, the one they dragged in was practically a kid, barely twenty-one. Matching description, but all Nick had seen was a white guy, brown hair, skinny physique. Red Corvega, polished to a shine, no license plates. Fresh off a lot. And this kid—Johnny was the name?”

“It was.” She leans against the wall watching him, slight smile and far-off gaze warring for dominion on her features.

“So Johnny had a decent alibi, a less-than-decent father, and a shiny red Corvega with nary a dent or even a scratch.” He pauses in his work, lost in his own thoughts. “Even I wondered if it was the right guy. Then three days into the trial—after a couple delays—young Johnny finally takes the stand. Only, Ms. Montgomery here requests that the court allow him to testify in the narrative. The judge grants her request, she sits right back down, and Johnny is told to continue his testimony without questioning. And the kid was none the wiser that his attorney just signaled to the court that he was lying through his teeth.” He can’t help but laugh again, shaking his head. “I hadn’t seen someone crucify themselves through perjury so thoroughly. Well—he hadn’t. Nick hadn’t.”

“Huh,” Piper says in amazement, and Montgomery picks up the thread.

“He turned out to be a real ass,” she muses. “Sought out a pro bono defense to try and prevent dear old dad from finding out.” The ponytail swings side to side as she shakes her head, mystified. “Sure did pay to have his car fixed up real quick, though.”

Hancock gives a faint derisive scoff, “Sounds too complicated. Guy like that? Thinking he’s better than everyone else? Can’t imagine having to stick up for scum like him.”

“He wasn’t exactly the type I was in it for,” she admits, giving a light shrug.

“Ah, you did good,” Nick tells her, and snaps the panel shut to bring himself back to the present, so he can stop being two different people in two different timelines. Most folks involved then are dead. That particular brand of justice doesn’t matter to very many people now. And fewer every day. Damn, he finds himself thinking again, optics flicking to the earnest face of the brunette down the hall, recognizing someone drowning in grief almost as if he were looking in a mirror. Who dragged you into this mess? And: is it any better than dying to nuclear fire? “Think I got it working again. Get ready.”

“He-ey,” Hancock says appreciatively when the door actually opens and nothing jumps out to kill them. “Nothing better than a multitalented dick.”

Even Piper rolls her eyes at the double entendre, although she’d laugh at it coming from anyone else. In fact, Nick is pretty positive he’s heard her say something very similar. It’s almost a miracle they’re not friends.

They form up and move forward.

What follows is a nightmare maze of thin hallways and branching living quarters everywhere Nick looks, a guy with a gun in any shadow; many, many stairs, over which his left knee has severe complaint—and one aforementioned poker game they do interrupt, which John proceeds to pick clean, whistling.

But they do well for themselves, faring even better with the addition of Nick and his new 9mm. Montgomery tucks herself behind crates and corners and pillars and lays covering fire with her borrowed SMG while the others pick their targets off, one by one. There’s certainly plenty of .45 to spare.

But still no sign of the head honcho. When they get upstairs to the depot, there’s no one at all until they open the door to the vault entrance.

And who else could be standing there at the very end of it all but Malone, blocking the way through the vault door. His expression alone could kill, not to mention the armed entourage of three men and his new flame.

Nick holds his hand up, specifically to stay Hancock and his twitchy trigger finger. There’s still a chance, whether Skinny really deserves one or not. Darla does. Her parents do.

The tactical calculus is apparent on the mob boss’ face. They could all certainly be wasted in seconds, easily—but then there’s the old history between them, and the fact of a certain mayor of Goodneighbor. A rival of Malone’s, to be sure, but one with far more influence and power than he, especially with a vault of dead henchmen.

Not to mention the fact that Malone isn’t exactly fond of shooting women. History has proven that to be a fact.

“How could you do this to me, Nicky?” Skinny is imploring him, equal parts anger and betrayal. “Busting in to my digs? Shooting up all my guys?”

“Me? I just spent two weeks in a damn lockbox, Skinny,” Nick says, affronted. “You did that. I came here looking for your two-timing dame, and when things got violent you stood by and watched. None of this would have even happened if she wrote home more often.” He eyes the dame in question, equipped with a metal bat he’d rather not get reacquainted with. Even as the one with the least blood on her hands, she might be the genuine problem here. A real agitator, that one.

Darla just hisses at her paramour, electing to ignore him. “I told you we should have just killed him. All that sentimental crap you gave me about the old times, look what happened!”

“Darla,” Malone says in warning, “I’m handling this. Skinny’s always got things under control.”

At this moment that couldn’t be further from the truth. Nick has to make him see that. “Skinny, you’d better take a good long look at who all just came knocking. And that was just for my sorry hide. Who do you think is gonna come looking for them?”

The gangster’s eyes waver from him to his companions. To Hancock.

“My people would burn this place to the fucking ground,” the ghoul at Nick’s side says matter-of-factly. Then he opens his mouth again, and the vicious smile is audible. “Not that any of you are gonna keep me from walking out of here.”

Nick grits his semblance of teeth. The mayor’s input will be not exactly helpful, if Darla’s tightened grip is anything to go by.

On his other side, Montgomery lowers her gun in a show of faith, splays her empty hand in more an entreaty than a surrender. She speaks not to Skinny, but to the woman beside him. “Darla,” she beseeches, “your parents just want you back home.”

“That’s a load of bull,” the gun moll spits back, focus narrowing to a single point at the words. “My dad doesn’t give a damn. He was waitin’ for me to go.”

Nick has plenty to say on the subject, but he and Darla already got off on the wrong foot, to say the least. And he figures Piper and company must have done their homework and gotten their information from dear Ellie—so he keeps his mouth shut and Montgomery continues.

“If that were really true, do you think they would hire a detective to find you? They’re worried sick. They don’t want you to throw your life away. For this.” She brandishes her empty hand at the group’s earlier handiwork; a man with buckshot filling his chest. “It’s never too late to go home.”

That strikes a chord. Darla stops short, her shoulders dropping just a fraction. “I…”

“Hey!” Skinny Malone barks at Montgomery. “I’m in charge here. You got something to say, you say it to me. Unlike all of you, she’s right where she belongs.”

Nick sighs, digging in deeper. It was over. The boss just hadn’t realized it yet. “This is the road you walked, Skinny,” he says. “And it only has one destination. You really think this is how Lilly June would want things to be?”

Burning eyes turn to him. “Don’t you give me that. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You got no idea. None.”

But the name had gotten Darla’s attention, as it was meant to. In fact, it had drawn a couple of glances. “Lilly? Who the hell is Lilly?”

“No, it’s not—it wasn’t like that,” he says in a near-panic. And maybe it’s cruel, to twist the knife like this. But that didn’t make it any less true.

“Oh yeah? Then what was it like, Skinny?”

“Darla,” he pleads, “we can talk about this later.” Behind them, even his henchmen had relaxed their postures, tossing looks to one another.

And Darla just shakes her head. “God. My ma was right. You gangster types are all talk. Puffed-up windbags.”

“Wha—?”

But her grip on the bat was already loosening, and it drops to the floor with a sharp ring. “I’m outta here. We’re done, Skinny. It’s over.”

“Wait! Darla, where are you…” His own gun hangs limp at his side, and his protestations fade when his supposed sweetheart doesn’t even look back as she walks away. Finally, he turns back to Nick. “I can’t believe you would do this,” he says again. “First my crew, then you cost me my girl.”

“It’s for the best, Sal,” Nick says calmly, using a name not spoken in years. “You’re no good for each other. I thought you’d recognize the signs, after all this time.”

“Out,” he replies, thoroughly demoralized. “Get out. I never want to see your face again.”

Nick starts to walk. Past his old rival-turned-familiar face, and past the henchmen who look none too impressed after that display. They might not be sticking around, either. “So long, Skinny.”

The others follow quietly, and no one stops them from leaving.

Hawthorne lets out his breath when they’re across the dig site, part relief and part awe. “Nicely done. I’d always heard about you talking folks down off the ledge. Glad I got to see it for myself.”

Nick nods, optics straying to Montgomery, quiet and thoughtful. She didn’t do bad, herself. He always was impressed by her way with words.

“Who is Lilly June, Nick?” Piper asks quietly as he leads the group toward a service entrance, nervous glances cast over her shoulder.

“Lillian June Malone,” he reflects, hand automatically straying to the pack of cigarettes in his pocket at the memory, for his second smoke of the night. For once, Hancock doesn’t complain about him wasting it. “Salvatore ‘Skinny’ Malone’s little girl. She would have been fourteen, now.”

“His daughter?” parrot both Hawthorne and Piper, aghast.

He flicks his lighter, each strike the memory of little shoes on quarry blocks, jumping from one to the next to the next, until…

“Aw, geez,” Piper mutters under her breath, adjusting her cap and pulling it down tight. “Don’t go making me feel bad for the guy.”

“He’s made nothing but bad decisions ever since,” he says, looking up at the ladder leading topside before he starts to climb. “One after the other.”

There’s a pause, and then Montgomery’s low voice joins the conversation for the first time in several minutes. “There’s a lot of things someone might be driven to do, after a loss like that.”

From his perch at the top of the ladder, finagling with the exit hatch, he can only barely hear Piper’s low exhalation, and he looks to see Montgomery with an arm wrapped around herself. She looks lost. The sight sets his clockwork ticking with the implications.

It’s a dark, cloudy sky above when they’re finally standing in the street, but Nick is thrilled to see it all the same. If he closes his eyes, the fresh breeze feels almost like it used to.

Dawn is just a handful of hours away. Home, even closer.

“I, ah, wanted to say,” he finally starts, turning to the others, “thank you all for coming. Truly. I was sure I’d be stuck in that office until the world ended all over again.”

“Ah, quit it,” Piper chides with a gentle knock against his shoulder. “No need to thank us. I wasn’t about to leave a friend down there. You know I don’t have many of those to spare.”

“Diamond City folk should take care of their own,” Hawthorne says. “It’d be a better place for it. And you’re the one who showed them that, Nick.”

“Aaaand that’s my cue,” Hancock says, stepping away in the direction of Goodneighbor. He lifts the front of his hat with a finger, revealing more of the American flag tied like a bandana around the remaining strips of his scraggly and stained blond hair. “See you around, Nick. Welcome back.”

“Hancock,” Montgomery is the one to call before he can turn away. “Thank you for the help.”

He nods at her. “Remember our deal and we’ll be square, sister.”

And that’s certainly interesting. Nick isn’t sure it necessarily bodes well.

As the ghoul walks away, a distinct feeling strikes the aging synth. A feeling that John may have looked at how things turned out for Malone, and seen opportunity for himself and his people.

And next time, Malone won’t be so lucky.

Nick tips his hat down and turns away. Someone should make better use of the vault anyway.

Montgomery catches his attention then, as she detaches the drum magazine on her scavenged SMG and he watches her unceremoniously dump the gun in the mud, stashing the ammo. Whether the look of distaste he caught in her eyes was more at the firearm or what she had to do with it… perhaps time would tell.

One final look is aimed at the retreating form of Goodneighbor’s macabre mayor before they start their own way back to Diamond City, and Nick falls into step beside his good friend. “Piper, if I’d known I was the one getting in the way of you two working together, I would have gone to ground ages ago.”

As predicted, she gives an exaggerated groan. “Don’t start. Every other word out of his mouth just bumps him further up my list. If it was just the two of us we would have killed each other before we even got in the door.”

“Every other word, huh?” Nick ponders. “Well, it’s an improvement.” He can spy the edge of a smile on Montgomery’s face, behind the evident exhaustion now that the adrenaline of fight-or-flight was ebbing. John’s charms had clearly worked on her at least a little bit.

“I may not agree with all the guy’s methods, but he didn’t seem that bad, really,” Hawthorne was saying. “At least, not nearly as bad as I expected. Not as bad as the stories.”

“No, not you too,” Piper mourns.

The gunhand gives a shrug. “Sometimes, you need a guy like that on side. Like when dealing with an army of gangsters out for blood,” he offers, and she grumbles in turn.

They continue on in this manner for a time, and Nick hangs back a few steps to walk alongside Natalia Montgomery, mystery woman of the hour. She offers a slight smile, looking more haggard by the minute.

“I, ah, got the impression there was a particular reason you came to find me,” he says quietly, “And I’m betting the story is a long one.”

Her gaze suddenly averts to look up into the midnight sky and she blinks hard. Even in the subdued moonlight, he can see how her eyes start to shine in mere seconds.

He bets she’s been barely hanging on by a thread for a while now. Ahead of them, he spies Piper glance back for a few moments, a knit of worry to her brow. Gal got attached quick.

Finally, Natalia takes in a long, slow breath, lets it out. “Yeah. It is.”

“Bit of a walk back to Fenway,” he reasons. “How about you tell me about it on the way, if you’re up to it. That way when we get back, you can get some sleep and I’ll get to work. And then we can tackle it fresh-faced in the morning.”

A twitch at the edge of her mouth. “No vacation for Detective Valentine, huh?”

“Not when I’m needed. And I don’t sleep. One of the rare perks of this rig,” he says, motioning to himself with a skeletal hand. Besides, he’s certainly had enough idle time lately.

Another deep, steadying sigh as her arms wrap around herself, a look cast up and down the street. After a few moments she speaks, and her voice wavers like the water of the Charles. “Yeah. Okay.”

And she begins.

Nick crushes his cigarette underfoot, dispersing the last wisps of smoke into night air. He tucks his hands into his pockets, looks up at the roiling clouds threatening an early September rain.

And he listens closely to the whole, sad story.

[digitamedia17]

Comprehensive Guide to Easily Tighten Your Front Door Handle

Are you grappling with a loose front door handle? Does the thought of repairing or tightening it worry you? If you find yourself in this situation, fret not, for you've landed in the right place. As a homeowner, encountering such issues is not uncommon, but it's crucial to address them promptly.

Tightening a loose door stop front door handle is a task within your reach. However, you'll need thorough guidance to ensure your door operates smoothly. It's customary to employ screws to secure the front door handle firmly. But remember, a properly tightened handle should not leave any gaps around its edges. Understanding the process thoroughly and mastering the art of tightening the front door handle is essential.

Utilizing screws is the primary method to restore functionality to your door handle. To fix a loose door handle, swiftly tighten the base plate screws. This will make pulling the front door handle a breeze.

Fixing a Spinning Doorknob:

Occasionally, the doorknob might start spinning, indicating a loose spindle. This looseness can cause set screws to shake when using the front door handle. Different mechanical systems are in place to secure the spindles and manage various requirements. Identifying and tightening the screw sets around the doorknob is crucial.

Identifying the Loose Faceplate with Exposed Mounting Screws:

Looseness in the faceplate with mounting screws is another issue to watch out for. Over time, the surface might loosen, leading to a wobbly doorknob mechanism. Seeking professional assistance can simplify this process. Exposed mounting screws facilitate snugly setting up the door again. Lever-style handles often have accessible mounting screws for tightening. With round door knobs, removing the knob to access faceplate mounting screws is necessary.

Tightening with Hidden Mounting Screws:

Newer locks might loosen over time, necessitating hidden mounting screws to be tightened. These screws are typically concealed beneath an outer faceplate. To mitigate risks, opt for mounted screws and level them by depressing a spring-loaded catch. Identifying and loosening the set screw that holds the doorknob or handle in place is crucial. Rotate the shaft, noting any length markings, to adjust it according to the door angles. If necessary, replace the shaft with a new one instead of rotating it.

Placing the Handle on the Spindle:

Ensure the handle is correctly placed on the spindle, aligning it precisely in the holes. Repeat this process for the other side, securing it according to the spindle. Lever door handles that feel loose should be addressed promptly to avoid wear on the screws.

Realigning the Lever Door Handle:

Securely remove the handle to realign it, addressing the most common cause of loose lever door handles. This realignment helps in maintaining tension and prevents gradual changes in screws and enhanced wear.

Inspecting the Screws:

Using a faceplate, access and inspect the screws by removing the base plate. Examine them for any noticeable defects, and tighten them as needed to ensure smooth operation.

Tightening the Screw Set:

Ensuring the screw set is properly tightened is paramount. Secure the door handle back in place, checking the base position and screw holes. Replace any visibly damaged screws, ensuring the front door handle operates seamlessly.

Reinstalling and Tightening the Door Handle:

Once the screws are positioned correctly, proceed to tighten the door handle securely. Use screws to lock the handle in place from the base to the slide. Attach a backing plate if necessary and adjust the screws for a secure fit.

Conclusion:

By following this comprehensive guide, you can effectively tighten your door stop front door handle. Regularly inspect your door handle for any issues, and address them promptly. Whether it's a minor defect or a significant problem, repairing or replacing the front door handle ensures the security and functionality of your entryway.

[helloemergencyservices]

Repairing a single lever disc faucet

Turn off the water supply at the sink

The first step in faucet repair is to locate the water shutoff on your faucet and turn off both the hot and cold water supply lines leading to the faucet. The water shutoff is usually located directly under the sink and consists of a small valve and a small handle. If the valve is similar to the model shown here, turn the handle clockwise to close and shut it off. Other types of valves may have a lever handle that must be turned perpendicular to the water line to move to a closed position. If your home does not have local shut-off valves, you will need to go to the main water line and shut off the water supply there. Once the water is shut off, open the faucet completely, release the pressure, and allow the water to drain. Remove handle lever The handle is inconspicuously attached to the faucet cartridge. The connection may be hidden under a plastic cover plate, as found on the top of some handles, as shown in the photo. If your faucet does not have a plastic cover, the handle may be attached to the side, front or back of the handle with an Allen screw. Using a Phillips screwdriver or Allen wrench, remove the mounting screw and remove the handle and decorative cover plate if used on the faucet. You may need to carefully pry off the handle. Removing the ceramic disk cartridge After removing the handle, the ceramic cartridge is now exposed and can be removed. Some models of the cartridge have screws that hold it in place. If you have this type, remove the screws that secure the disc cartridge. Once the screws are removed or if your cartridge does not have securing screws. Lift the cartridge out of the faucet body. You may need to use pliers as it can get stuck a bit. If the cartridge is stuck, carefully grab it with the grooved pliers and pull it out. Now that you have removed the cartridge, you will need to inspect it for damage. In the unlikely event that it is cracked, it will need to be replaced. If you need to replace the cartridge, it's usually a good idea to bring the old cartridge with you, as this will make finding a replacement much easier. If a replacement cartridge is not immediately available, you will need to order one. Restore the water supply to the faucet. Restore the water supply to the faucet and check for leaks. Set the faucet to the center open position. Gradually turn the water supply back on, and when no more air flows from the faucet, turn the faucet to the closed position.

Call the Emergency Plumber in Southend-on-Sea. We are your right contact partner.

[draftwarehouse]

Making the ambiance of your bar next level with the best bar supplies.

 A wide variety of carefully chosen beer accessories is required to set up the ideal bar. Established online beer equipment retailers sell an abundance of beer-related equipment. Beer coolers, beer dispensers, and other types of merchandising refrigeration are included.

  Exquisite collection of beer coolers

  Selecting the correct line of beer dispensers is essential whether setting up a new draft beer system or updating an existing one, and these factors should all be taken into account. If you pay attention to these details, your draft beer system will survive for years to come.Drip and Drain Pans are available at a lot of places.

  Beer tap handles with clever designs may help a bar achieve a high-end aesthetic. The Black Pub Tap Handle is one such design that might harken back to the days of traditional British pubs. The handle is chrome-plated and the lower and upper fittings are gold-finished. Glycol System Beer is indeed a fantastic choice.

    The Black Mini Pub Style is a wonderful option if you're looking for a tiny variant that doesn't skimp on style. A black large tap handle with silver accents is also available. Certain faucet levers are difficult to reject because of their beautiful and long-lasting black, silver, and gold finishes. These faucet knobs are not like any others since they come with an oval shield that can be personalized with a logo.Commercial beer tap system can be bought at affordable prices.

  Elegant draft beer equipment, such as beer dispensers, may be used to celebrate the past or show off the present. They come in a wide range of sizes, shapes, and materials, and each one is unique and beautiful.Gas Regulator and Manifold plays an important role within the bar.

    Refrigerators for drinks that are both sturdy and effective

  One of the most essential beer accessories is a beverage refrigerator. Beverage coolers with glass doors allow you to showcase your ice cold drinks in a fashionable way, increasing your sales and hence your income. Popular online stores provide a selection of high-quality products you can trust.Stainless Steel Drip Pan is used by a lot of people.

  They are perfect for serving drinks at the perfect temperature and look great while doing it. The beverages exhibited in these coolers are sure to entice any customer. Several models of these freezers have illuminated panels that contribute to their sleek design.

  A wide variety of drip trays

  If you do not have a draft beer drip tray, you will never fully appreciate its usefulness. Beer trays with built-in glass rinsers and drains are quickly being replaced by more technologically sophisticated models.

  Drip pans like this assist keep your bar in pristine shape by collecting spills and preventing corrosion of bar equipment. They are typically constructed from top-tier stainless steel for durability and little maintenance.

  Beer accessories, such as a stainless steel dual jigger, a 3 head manual cleaning brush that provides immaculate scouring of beer and cocktail glasses to make them seem crystal clear, and a bar caddy to organize bar supplies, are all available from reputable internet merchants.

[anantradingpvtltd]

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[brassworksuk-blog]

Brass Works Ltd has extensive experience in the business of supplying premium interior solutions for both hospitality and residential projects.

[assortedvillainvault]

Chance anon here! You want more, you got it! How do you think the Blitzwing personalities would go about comforting a stressed human reader s/o? Just craving a bit of fluff at the moment, but take as long as you need!

Oh Lord how to make it not look like I think about this exact scenario on a daily basis...

Blitzwing x Stressed!Reader below:

Icy:

Oh wow ok He Knows this feeling.

He's the personality that would attempt to find a practical solution, and ask a lot of gentle questions to try and get more information as to why you're so stressed.

Please don't take his questioning the wrong way, it's not meant to be condesceding or meant to make you question your feelings, and if you say it's making this worse he'll back right off.

You're going to be held for the rest of the day. He can do almost all tasks one handed so you're being gently held over his spark until you fall asleep.

He tries (as much as he can) to keep things quiet and peaceful since he knows a chaotic environment tips him over the edge all the time, and doesn't want you to react the same way to any loud noises or inconveniences when you've already got enough on your plate.

He's been looking into holoforms specifically for moments like these where he's too big to give you what you need, so you had better be prepared for a strapping german-accented human man to be spooning you in Blitzwings hands when you wake up from your stress nap.

You're not going to lie, the hugs really do help. Yknow, after you freak out and punch the intruder in the mouth before he manages to explain wtf you're waking up to. After that part, it helps.

Hothead:

He's going to encourage violence.

First he's going to scoop you up and demand to know who made you cry so he can crush them and fling their body into the sun. When you explain that it was no-one in particular, just a bad day/week/month/year and it's just getting to you more than normal, he'll back off on the seething.

Hothead is very familiar with frustration to the point of tears, that visor is for more than just show y'know, and takes you to the training room to blow off steam.

You're going to have the most brutally positive personal trainer encouraging you to go absolutely feral on the little dummy set up for your convenience. Beating the shit out of the dummy with a bat is surprisingly effective, and by the end of it you need a new bat and a new dummy and a drink.

Hothead is glad it seems to have worked, and smugly offers you a treat~

Before you can ask he transforms into tank mode and pops his entrance hatch open, telling you to slip inside.

No Con would be caught dead with a human passenger so you scramble in. It's surprisingly roomy, and the interior is full of buttons and levers. Gruffly, he walks you though what to press and pull to lock his turrets into position, lights up the trigger, and gives you free reign.

The overwhelming power of directing a cybertronian warframe rushes dizzyingly to your head. The recoil from dual tank blasts obliterating what's left of your little dummy (and most of the wall behind it) leaves you giggly and with the shakes as Hothead's laugh reverberates from all around you.

Random:

Look a distraction! *shoots Lugnut*

You two are now doing Whatever You Want and not even Megatron can stop you.

Treats? He's holding the dougnut shop hostage. A flight? Hope you can handle mach 10! A hug? You're all but taped to his chassis and you're not being let go.

He might be overcompensating a bit but he's low key in panic mode and isn't sure how exactly to help so he's going off the philosophy of 'more is better' and taking it to extremes.

Random is also very very liable to find whoever did this to you and set their house on fire. Or freeze them. Depends on how funny he'll find it later.

He's also pirating all your favourite shows and movies, ordered pizza and has been stashing an entire warehouses worth of mattresses, pillows and blankets for cuddle-snuggle-nest emergencies, which has now been activated.

Once your spree of next level terror is over, he is absolutely falling asleep with you safely on top of him, worn out but ultimately feeling a better.

Naught like being forced to reevaluate your current problems by witnessing the sheer chaos of New Problems, right?

He's leaving a note for Icy to help deal with your problems responsibly later. When you wake up.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Heart-Shaped Box💟9/End

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), forced pregnancy, some violence, intimidation, some elements untagged for sake of plot.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Sister Series: Get Your Fix

Summary: You accept a job as an au pair, but not all is as it seems.

Note: Finally finishing this one up. Sorry it took me ages but I’m doing my best to go back and wrap up whatever I can.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Masterlist

Bucky pulled out of you as he held your head down, bouncing the bed beneath you as he pushed himself onto his back. You panted as your sweat dampened the sheet beneath you and he leaked between your thighs. You winced as you rolled onto your side and slowly sat up. 

He had you whining loud enough that you had no doubt your guests heard it all. It only seemed to encourage his partner-in-crime as you soon heard a similar scene on the other side of the wall. You were sickened by that noise and stood warily as you cupped your hand over your cunt and scooped up his cum before it could drip onto the floor.

“I told you to keep it down,” he snickered and sat up, his muscled back to you as he stretched his arms above him, “get the shower started, I’ll be in shortly. You girls have a lot of work to do today.”

You grumbled and dragged your feet to the attached bathroom. The low buzz of the pipes filled the silence and you stepped under the steamy water. The moment of calm broke sharply as Bucky appeared from the other side of the curtain and stepped in behind you. He had you clean him with a lathered loofah and you bore it only for the eventuality of time away from him.

The other woman meant you wouldn’t be trapped with just him. It was little help or hope but it was better than your former solitary torture.

You dressed in black dress with daisies and made yourself look like his perfect housewife. You couldn’t hold the smile and make him believe it all the way but he wouldn’t anyway. He flicked your chin and clicked his tongue.

“Mmm, you’re getting there,” he mused as he dropped his hand and reached around to slap your ass, “better go get breakfast on. I’ll check in on our guests.” He squeezed and winked, “be a good girl.”

Those words made your insides curdled but you swallowed your disgust and nodded, “yes, sir.”

He stepped out behind you and watched you go down the hall to the stairs and you heard him knock on the door as you descended. You went to the kitchen and pulled out the frying pan and the coconut oil. You lined up the ingredients for crepes on the counter and took two bananas from the yellow bunch. Your mother used to make the oversweet delicacy and you needed a reminder that you were still that girl.

You stopped as you searched for something to keep the crepes warm after you assembled them, a lid that could fit over the plate or something akin to it. The lower cupboards you rarely opened. Bucky left the cleaning supplies on the counter with your chore list every day and you never bothered to look for anything else.

You stopped and stared at the drain cleaner and the can of toxic oven spray. Well, that wouldn’t be subtle enough, would it? They’d smell either of those a mile away. Anything under the counter would be easily discovered but it did give you an idea.

You closed the wooden door and went back to your task. You heard the voices in the next room and the scrape of the chairs on the floor. Steve’s girl appeared in the doorway, rubbing her stomach as her face contorted.

“Smells sweet,” she said as you simmered the bananas with brown sugar, cinnamon, and a little butter, “almost too sweet.”

“Morning sickness?” you asked innocently.

“All the time sickness,” she sighed, “anything I can help with?”

“Do you know how to make crepes?” you asked as you whisked the batter.

“Not really,” she shrugged, “but I can learn.”

“It’s easy. Takes less than a minute,” you waved her over and tested the temperature of the pan with a flick of water, “so you wanna put just a little batter in…” you ladled in a careful dollop and lifted the pan, “you spread it like this,” you tilted it so the batter spread all around, “you just use the spatula a little on the edges to make sure they don’t stick and you flip.”

It was like second nature and she nodded quietly as she watched. The crepe cooked quickly and you threw it onto a plate and put the pan back to the burner.

“You think you can handle that?” you covered the plate with the lid of a pat to keep it warm. “Then we put some of the bananas and wrap them, bit of cream on top and some icing sugar…”

“You like to cook?” she wondered as she added batter to the hot pan.

“Not particularly, but my mother taught me,” you shrugged, “she can cook anything.”

“Oh,” she flipped the crepe and glanced at the door, “I suppose… it keeps him happy.”

“He’s never happy,” you murmured and cleared your throat, “so, you must be excited to move in!”

“I guess,” she slid the crepe onto the plate as you lifted the foggy lid, “you know how it is.”

You smiled and she tilted her head as she squinted at you. You went to the drawer where there was a box of blank recipe cards and continued speaking as you fished out a pencil from another.

“It’s always nice to get settled,” you said as you wrote, ‘they can hear us’.

“I suppose, nice to be in one place,” she replied stiffly as her features relaxed.

‘I have a plan,’ you wrote and raised your voice just slightly, “oh, you know, we didn’t even get you a housewarming gift. I’ll have to remind James.”

You went to the burner and held out the card under the coil until it caught. You threw it into the sink and watched it burn and curl. You ran water over it as it turned to ash and washed it away. You nudged the bowl towards her and leaned on the counter, “need help with that?”

“No,” she said as she started again, “I’m getting the hang of it.”

💟

You looked around the front room of the house next door. Steve’s girl opened one of the stacked boxes. For once, the men were gone and you could just enjoy their absence. 

Bucky agreed that a gift was in order and Steve had mentioned wanting to explore their new hometown. You tried not to seem eager but even the small walk across the lawns enlivened you. How long had it been since you’d been outside?

You started with the pictures. You left the frames in a stack as she assured you Steve would put the nails in and hang them. Then you moved onto the kitchenware and you kept her from lifting the heavy box of dishes. She seemed to forget about her condition and the reminder made her frown.

You stood behind the counter and set the dishes in the cupboards one at a time, the plates clacking one on top of each other. She watched from the other side as she arranged the silverware in the plastic tray.

“Can you do me a favour?” you asked as you kept on.

“What?” she asked as she dropped a butter knife with the rest.

“I know they’ve locked us in but can you check the garage door? Can we get in there?” you asked evenly.

“What?” she blinked and pushed herself straight, “even if we can, they won’t have been stupid enough--”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I know we can’t get out that way either. It’s the same at our house. Everything is bolted up tight.” You assured her, “just go and check while I get these sorted.”

She left you and you snapped shut the door and finished with the utensils. You slid the tray into the drawer as she returned, rubbing her stomach.

“Yeah, we can get in but it’s mostly empty,” she said, “so…”

“Mostly empty?”

“Yeah, just the car--”

“The car,” you rounded the counter and curled two fingers for her to follow you.

You headed for the plain white door that led to the garage. You hopped down the steps as she remained at the top and watched you tentatively. You went to the car as she crossed her arms.

“He took the keys,” she said.

You tried the handle and the door opened. “I know,” you said as you put a knee in the front seat and peered into the back. Nothing. 

You felt around under the dash and found the lever for the trunk. You pulled it and it popped. You shut the door and went around the back of the car. You felt around the spare tire and your hand felt something plastic. You grabbed the handle of the half-filled jug and pulled it out.

“Hey,” you held up the bright blue anti-freeze, “do you wanna cook dinner here tonight? A housewarming dinner?”

Her brows knitted and she gave a long blink. Her lips parted then curved.

“You can’t mean--” she let out a scoff.

“It’s sweet. Hopefully they won’t notice if I add enough sugar to the cake,” you breathed, “we can’t let them settle. This is our chance.”

“I don’t-- I don’t know. What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we’re still in the same boat,” you turned your free hand out, “that man has drugged me for months. I think it’s only fair that he gets a taste of his own medicine.”

She swallowed and looked down at her stomach. She inhaled and cradled her bump. “It can’t get worse than this, can it?”

💟

You spent the day unpacking, the distraction not much of one as you thought of the bottle you hid at the back of the cupboard. By the time the men returned, you were ready to move onto the second floor. 

Bucky offered a bottle of non-alcoholic wine and basket of expensive macarons as your gift to your new neighbours. He forced a kiss from you before he let you follow Steve’s girl upstairs.

You sat in the bedroom and heard the men ascend shortly after. You peeked in on them as you opened the linen closet to shove in the spare sheets. They were hammering together a crib. You knocked lightly on the doorframe as you watched them.

“Huh, what’s going on?” Bucky looked up from the directions.

“Um, we were just… thinking, we could have dinner here tonight? A little housewarmer? I could grab some ingredients from ours--”

“Give me a list, I’ll grab it,” Bucky puffed as he bent to help hold the rail in place for Steve, “that sound okay?”

“Fine by me,” Steve smiled, “it’ll be nice to have our feet on solid ground.”

You left them and returned to your only ally as she sat on the bed and stared at a packet of pills. She crushed it in her grasp and huffed. She flicked away tears with her knuckles. She tossed them over her shoulder.

“He kept them,” she snarled, “it’s like he’s mocking me.”

“What?” you neared her and sat carefully beside her.

“I never… I worked with him, you know? He brought me these drinks and I didn’t realise he was dosing them. The stuff, it made me itchy… it made me so hot and I just needed anything. I hopped on him I was so desperate and-- I told him to stay away. I realised what he’d done and I told him to leave me alone and you know what he did,” she crossed her arms over her stomach.

“No, I--” you touched her elbow.

“He broke into my apartment and replaced my pills. And he didn’t leave me alone,” she spat, “he did this all and he still has the goddamn pills like they’re some sort of trophy.”

She hung her head and grunted in frustration. You leaned against her and put your arm over her shoulders. She let you and the tension drained from her body.

“Even if we get out…” she whispered, “I’ll always have this piece of him.”

She pressed her palms to her stomach and you frowned. There was nothing you could do or say. You’d been lucky so far, even if it only fed your suffering. You didn’t have another life to worry about.

“We don’t have to if--”

“I want to,” she hissed lowly, “I want him dead.”

💟

Usually, you tasted the icing and licked the spoon. Not that night. The blue shade of the frosting was anything but suspicious as you spread it over the fluffy cake. It was a perfect disguise. You topped it with blueberries to add to the theme and dusted on a few coloured sprinkles. You stood back and admired your work as the smell of garlic filled the kitchen.

“I know it’s not much,” Steve’s girl said as she stirred the sauce, “but it’s what I can manage.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” you said as you took the meatballs of the burner and tested the spaghetti, “noodles are perfect.”

You strained the pasta and helped pour the meatballs into the sauce. You mixed it up and poured it into a large glass dish and the noodles into another. You brought them out to the table and called the men to dinner before you fetched the wine, both alcoholic and not.

Steve’s girl sat as you poured a glass for each of you and the men sat. You set the bottle down and nestled in next to Bucky as he served himself. When the plates were full, the other woman nudged Steve and whispered in his ear.

He cleared his throat and stood, “um, I know it’s just us but I guess I should say thank you for all the help and we’re excited to be neighbours… can’t wait for the kids to be running around these halls together.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lifted his glass, “hopefully…” he muttered doubtfully and looked at you, “that better be what she’s having,” he nodded to your glass.

You held it out for him to sniff and he gave you a sour look. He tutted and sat back to twirl noodles around his fork as he set aside his glass. You took a sip of the gutless wine and speared a meatball on your tines. You chewed and looked at Steve’s girl. She let Steve rub her thigh under the table and forced a smile.

She was playing it well and you felt as if you would fall apart. You felt as if Bucky would see right through you the minute you walked in with the cake. What would he do then? Steve couldn’t hurt his girl, she had the baby, but you, Bucky could replace you still. Maybe that was for the best but it didn’t mean you weren’t scared shitless.

You cleared the plates and retreated to the kitchen. Just you. You’d gone over it, you didn’t want them to catch on. You didn’t get too close with them around, you acted like strangers, you really were after all.

You sliced the cake into careful portions and came out with two plates at a time. You put them in front of each chair and sat. As you did, Steve’s girl covered her mouth and gagged. She pushed herself up unsteadily.

“Honey?” Steve asked as he rubbed her lower back.

“It’s the baby I--” she gulped sickeningly, “I gotta--”

She rushed out and Steve gave a look, “nausea. It’s been like this for weeks.”

“I’m going to make sure she’s okay,” you stood, “go ahead and start without us.”

You went down the hall and as you neared the bathroom, Steve’s girl opened the door and pulled you inside. She looked genuinely sick and you smelled vomit on her breath. She turned and rinsed her mouth and shuddered. 

“I didn’t actually feel sick until I got in here,” she wiped her face with the hand cloth, “when I realised--”

“Everything’s in the trunk,” you assured her, “once they’re out, we get the keys and go.”

“How do we know--”

“Retch,” you hissed, “we wait until we’re sure.”

She gave an exaggerated hurl and you heard the clink of porcelain and silver and the drone of voices. You listened through the door as she watched you in the tight space of the half-bath.

“I’m thinking about getting her an… exam,” Bucky’s deep tone carried, “maybe she can’t…”

You let out the breath you were holding and closed your eyes. Just a little longer. 

When you heard a sudden lull, your eyes rounded and you turned the handle and let yourself out into the hall. She crept close behind as you peered through the open archway. Both men had their faces on their plates in the crumbs of vanilla cake and smears of blue icing.

“Let’s go,” you went to Steve and shoved your hand into his pocket, “shit, they’re not here.”

“Here!” she pulled her hand from his jacket hung on the rack, “you think they’re dead?”

You looked from one to the other and shakily felt along Steve’s neck. “Still a pulse. I think maybe… they’re only knocked out.”

“The serum,” she shook her head, “means we have to go quick.”

You hurried after her and followed her down into the garage. She climbed into the driver’s seat and moved it back as her stomach pressed to the wheel. You got in the other side as your body trembled with adrenaline. She hit the button attached to the keys and the door slowly raised behind her.

As she reversed, you felt a sudden shock around your neck and yiped. You’d forgotten entirely about the necklace. She stopped suddenly and watched you writhe in agony.

“Shit, shit,” you leaned forward until the shock stopped, “the necklace.”

“Fuck,” she reached for it and you batted her away.

“No, you’ll get zapped,” you gasped as you pulled on it desperately. It was too tight to get past your chin but too strong to snap. 

She took the keys out and tossed them in your lap. You lifted them and twisted the necklace around the house key but there was no give. You sobbed and dropped your hand.

“I can’t,” you looked at the bent key, “you gotta go without me.”

“What? No, I can’t--”

“You have a baby,” you said as tears burned in your eyes and your throat tightened, “go, please.” You dropped the keys on the dash and opened the door. “I can’t--”

“No, you have to come with me,” she begged.

“No, you have to go before they wake up,” you got out as you grasped your neck, the searing pain still hot on your flesh, “I’ll… I’ll survive. I have this far.”

“N--”

“Shut up!” you slammed the door and hit the hood, “go!”

She stared at you and her lip quivered. She gave you one last sad look and grabbed the keys. She sniffed as she gripped the wheel and backed out down the drive. 

You fell to your knees and sat back on your ass as you watched her drive away. You shook your head and held it in your hands as you sat behind the invisible wall of your prison.

The tires screamed at the end of the street and the noise of the engine faded into the distance. You laid on your back across the concrete and covered your face with your arm. At least you could live with knowing you got her out. Well, you couldn’t really say you’d be living. You’d be alive but little more than that. 

But you’d survive knowing that you kept one person from that pitiful fate. Even if it wasn’t you. Even if you knew that you would pay for it in the end. Even when those men woke up and found you laying in the garage, the sweet flavour of antifreeze on their tongues as the bile of their anger overflowed and drowned you. 

You couldn’t do anything but wait. If you were lucky, they might just kill you and that in itself would be freedom.

💟 💟 💟

END

[the-finest-clockwork-soldier]

The cockpit was larger than most other rooms, and every wall seemed to be lined with panels and an endless amount of levers and buttons. At the front was a vast window, covering nearly the entirety of the wall, and what chairs there were in the room all faced towards this one window. Stars shone outside, planets spun, the cosmos was as gorgeous as it was infinite.

All chairs faced this window- all save for one. Near the farthest window, at what was quickly becoming apparent to be the main console, was a wheelchair half spun to face the entrance, and within it, sat Brian.

The metal of the frame was the same color as the metal of his outer plating, and it looked just as solid, for while scratches and cosmetic damage covered the chair, there was not a single significant dent. Intricate engravings covered nearly every visible inch of the chairs- usually things of the organic like: seas, flowers, animals, and so on- yet if one were to be a bit closer they would see the engravings as amateurish as they were; as if such engravings were done as idly as someone with a knife might take to marking nearby wood when bored.

The back of the chair was notably longer than most frequent use chairs, too, as it stretched to cover the entirety of Brian's lower back and part of his upper back. Comfort wasn't nearly as much of a concern to someone who couldn't feel the discomfort in the first place. Where there were once clearly handles for another person to push the chair, they had been crudely sawed off- understandable, given the ship he was aboard.

If Brian might have once flinched at the arrival of people he didn't expect, he didn't move in the slightest; he couldn't really flinch unless he chose to.

He spun to face the group better and, no, it became apparent that he also wasn't surprised at who entered at all. Behind him, a monitor was open and set to a camera that appeared to be directly outside the cockpit door, presumably turned on after Brian heard the knock.

And you came here for an answer?

His voice wasn't particularly loud, nor nearly as flat as one might expect given it being artificial, but it carried in the room. There was a small hint of judgement waging with disbelief in it, but his tone was overall conversational.

The Toy Soldier nodded and set out ahead, looking forward to the day Lyric would have the halls memorized on her own- and perhaps Gizm0 would too if they visited enough, now there was a pleasant thought.

It took the most direct route to the cockpit it knew, matching its steps to Lyric's pace, if a tiny bit faster so it could still lead. Bullet holes and the occasional bit of damage still littered the walls, but, same as before, more care for repairs seemed to have been directed at the Aurora herself rather than the O'Neill Ring. Octokittens roamed the hallways, but not nearly in such swarms as the Toy Soldier had gotten to expect from the head of Aurora- someone must have fed them recently.

The most surprising thing of all was that the cockpit was actually clearly marked- though mostly with heavily vandalized "stay out" signs. There even appeared to be doodles in the Toy Soldier's style upon them, and it ignored the signs again as it apparently had before.

It stopped to let Gizm0 down once the group reached the door, opening its arms enough to aid them without dropping them.

@gizm0roleplayz @littlevandalist

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Alt S5b Plot Bunny, Pt 6

Lena doesn't wake for three days. Kara stays with her, watching for any sign of life beyond the steady beep of the heart monitor. She's almost when she hears a rustle against the sheets, and bolts upright when she opens her eyes to see Lena's head turning towards her against the pillow.

"Lena? Can you hear me?"

"Kara..."

Lena's gaze is blurry, struggling to focus on Kara. Kara takes her hand, doing her best to ignore the straps still buckled around it.

"It's okay, Lena, I'm here."

Blinking, Lena's eyes clear a little, and Kara's heart soars when she sees confusion rather than the cold, cruel regard she'd last seen. It had worked. She knows it in her bones.

Kara fumbles to unfasten the buckle on the strap, only to jump when Lena stiffens and pulls away.

"Don't," Lena says, her voice suddenly sharp. Kara looks up, only to find fear looking back. "I don't want to hurt you."

Reaching for Lena's hand again, Kara doesn't let her pull away. "It's okay. The device is inert. It can't control you anymore."

Lena's breath hitches in her chest, her eyes filling with tears. "I hurt you..."

"I'm okay," Kara promises.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" Lena begins to cry.

Kara leans down, pressing her forehead to Lena's in comfort. "It's okay. It wasn't your fault. There's nothing to apologize for."

What Kara doesn't give voice to are her own apologies. For not telling her the truth sooner, for letting Lex rewrite the universe, for not pressing harder when Lena banished her from LuthorCorp. She should have tried harder. She shouldn't have let Lena go through this alone.

When Lena's tears finally subside, Kara pulls back to begin unfastening the restraints. Lena lets her this time, taking a moment to look around the unfamiliar room. "Where-- where's Jack?"

Panic jabs suddenly through Kara's chest. "You-- you said he was gone," she stammers. "He left..."

Lena pauses, then slumps in relief. "He did. He left-- that was true. It was the only way I could confront Lex."

Kara breaths a quiet sigh. At least Jack was safe.

"We'll stop him," Kara tells her. "We're going to stop Lex, I promise."

Lena looks at her, unable to keep the hopelessnes from her features. Kara takes her hand again.

"We'll stop him together."

Finally, Lena nods.

"Together."

---

When the confrontation with Lex finally happens, Kara and the rest of the Superfriends face him alone, buying Lena time to finish a lexosuit of her own. Only Kara can go head to head with him-- the rest of them handle the goons on the ground.

Only Kara can keep up with Lex, but the modifications to her suit to protect her from his kryptonite only lasts so long before the device ultimately fails. The Kryptonite saps her strength, making her sluggish even as she struggles to fight through the pain.

When Lex finally grabs her by cape and flings her to the roof of LuthorCorp, Kara struggles to rise again. She can't. Lex steps on her back, pushing her to the cracked rooftop.

"You and your cousin are too late," he says. "Earth already has its hero-- me."

Kara hears his weapon charge, but when the whine terminates in an explosion of sound, the weight suddenly disappears from Kara's back. She looks up to see that Lena has finally joined the fray, hovering in her own mechasuit.

Lena sets down and helps Kara to her feet, her helmet retracting to reveal features dark with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kara pants, staggering slightly. Lena helps to steady her. They turn to face Lex as he too rises, wiping blood from his chin. He glares at his sister.

"So you did survive," he remarks. "I had wondered what they did with you."

"You failed, Lex," Lena returns, her voice steady. "And you'll fail now."

Lex's features twist into a scowl. "We'll just see about that."

He fires a burst of kryptonite from his blasters, forcing them to duck and cover as he flies off. Lena takes the blast on her shield, but grounds Kara with a hand on her shoulder before the hero to soar after him.

"The others need help," Lena says. "Go."

Kara catches her armored wrist. "Lena..."

"Go." Lena offers a reassuring smile. "I've got this."

Kara wants to protest. She wants to gather Lena up and ferry her down to street level as well. She wants to be the one to take Lex down-- Lena shouldn't have to do it a second time.

But Kara feels her weakness keenly, and knows shes on the verge of a solar flare. She doesn't have the strength to succeed where she knows Lena will.

She nods.

"Be careful."

Lena's faceplate descends with a clank, shielding her face from view before she launches into the air and goes after Lex. Kara returns to her friends, determined to help as many as she can, even as her heart weighs heavy.

Lena is on her own.

---

Lena pulls up her hud, tracing Lex's energy signature through the city. She's so focused that she doesn't notice the trail curling back on itself until something collides with her from behind. Sensors wailing, Lena tumbles out of control, spinning dizzingly for long moments before her reserve thrusters engage to course correct.

Lex doesn't wait for the world to stop spinning. He blasts her with another burst of kryptonite, then fires a rocket that explodes against her shoulder. The armor holds up but Lena's control of the suit slips as she spins out to collide with a building. Punching through the glass windows, the collision proves to be the reprieve she needs.

When Lex comes looking for her, Lena explodes out of the building, wrapping her arms around Lex bodily. He has better control, having piloted the suit multiple times before, but Lena's got the edge in structural integrity. His attempts to grapple his way out of her grip scrapes off her hull-- she returns each blow by searching for the weaknesses in his suit, tugging at punctures and joints even as they climb higher and higher.

Finally, Lena's armored fingers close on something important. When she yanks, Lex's boot thrusters sputter out. In her moment of victory, Lex elbows her in the side of the head. Her grip slips, and he slides out of her grasp.

She expects him to flee-- to retreat to a safe distance and fire another rocket. Instead, he cocks his fist back and lunges towards her. There's a squeal of metal shearing, and then all Lena can feel is a sharp burning in her abdomen.

Lex tugs his arm free with another squeal of metal, withdrawing the blade that's just pierced through Lena's armor. The blade pulses green with kryptonite, but Lena's greatee concern is the oxygen leaking from her suit in the high atmo, and the blood swiftly soaking through her gambeson.

"I always win, Lena," Lex calls, his voice tinny over the comms channel. "You might as well accept it."

"Not this time," Lena grunts out. Her vision threatens to start spinning again, though her readouts confirm she's hovering steadily. She knows she doesn't have long.

"Then you'll die," Lex snarls.

He jets towards her using the pulse thrusters in the palms of his gauntlets. Lena dodges the thrust of his blade, again hooking her arms around his waist. Without hesitation, she engages every rocket she has and aims towards the ground.

Time to finish this.

---

Kara hears the roar of imminent collision mere seconds before it hits. When she looks up, she sees a glimpse of two armored suits interlocked mere moments before both slam into the ground. The earth shakes with the impact, and a cloud of dust rises thick and heavy from the cratered earth of the impact site.

"LENA!"

Kara charges towards the crater, moving against the flow of fleeing citizens. Her strength all but gone, she coughs heavily, pausing at the rim of the crater to peer through the dust. All she can see is a deep shadow at the center of the crater, and she pelts towards it without a second thought.

"Lena!"

The shadow she sees resolves itself to be a mess of fractured pavement. Struggling to move them aside, she catches sight of Lena's armor.

"Lena!"

Sparks fly as Kara desperately heaves the heavy exosuit into her arms, levering Lena out of the pit and onto a slab of broken pavement. The mangled mess of Lex's own lexosuit remains where it is, unmoving.

"Lena, Lena please..." Kara's fingers scrabble under the chin the of the face plate, searching for the release. When she finds it, she presses it twice, prompting the entire suit to disengage. As each panel separates, Kara pulls them apart, flinging them aside until Lena is fully exposed.

Through the dust, Kara sees the stain of blood on Lena's side. Her blood runs cold.

"No..."

"Lena!" A new voice shouts from behind them. Kara hears the scrape of shoes against the rubble as someone climbs down to join them. She doesn't realize it's Jack Spheer until he falls to his knees beside Lena. "Lena!"

"Jack..." Kara blinks at him, stunned to see him. Lena had said he'd left, but the sweat and blood and grime on his face told a different story. He was here, in National City.

"Is she breathing?" Jack asks. Kara is too slow to respond. "Is she breathing!"

"I-I don't know."

Jack leans in close, listening for any sounds of life. When he presses his ear to Lena's chest, he pulls away in relief. "Her heart is beating. She's alive-- Lena! Lena, sweetheart, can you hear me?"

He cups Lena's cheeks with both hands, not quite daring to move her. Beneath Kara's hands, Lena twitches.

"Jack...?" comes the faint murmur. Jack gasps a shuddering sob.

"I'm here," he says, kissing her forehead in blatant relief. "Lena, I'm here..."

"S'posed... t'go away..."

"I couldn't--"

"How touching."

The rubble shifts at the bottom of the crater. Lex staggers into view, eyes bloodshot and glinting with deranged menace.

Kara stands to face him, stepping between him and the others. "It's over, Lex. Even if you win here today, your reputation is ruined. Everyone knows who and what you truly are. Surrender yourself, and I promise you'll get a fair trial."

"It's not over until I say it is!" Lex bellows. His armor is broken and mangled, yet somehow functional enough that he's able to prime his plasma cannon. "If I'm going down, then I'm taking you with--"

Before he can finish, a pulse of bright hot energy sears past Kara's sense to detonate against Lex's chest plate. The explosion that follows blasts Lex off his feet, throwing him back a dozen yards before he skids to a stop with a singed, smoking hole in his chest.

Kara doesn't need to listen for a heartbeat to know that he's dead.

She turns, and finds Lena with her own plasma cannon outstretched, her aim guided by Jack's hands. When the cannon retracts, Jack rips the guantlet off, tangling his fingers with Lena's.

"Nice shot," Kara tells them both. Jack barely glances at her. Kara looks at Lena, meeting her bleary, exhausted gaze. "It's over."

Lena nods. Her eyes close, her relief plain to see. Kara takes her free hand, offering a gentle squeeze. Lena squeezes back.

They did it.

[whumpurr]

Adrien and Sawdust part 4

masterlist

cw: pet whump, unreliable narrator, disordered eating

Adrien knocked on Sawdust’s door an hour after the sun came up. He kept his voice soft, not wanting to disturb him too much if he was asleep, and not wanting to startle him if he was awake.

“Sawdust, I’m making breakfast downstairs. You can come to the kitchen when you’re ready, or I’ll leave your food outside your door if you don’t.” His socked feet didn’t make too much noise going down the stairs, but he drummed his fingers along the railing to make that extra bit of sound so that Sawdust would know where he was headed, and that he wasn’t still looming outside of his door.

Adrien made himself some eggs and toast, and poured out a bowl of that unfrosted cereal for Sawdust. He assumed that the pet wasn’t going to want something like eggs. Along with it he put a spoon in the bowl, and poured a glass of water.

Breakfast time ticked by slowly past Adrien as he ate his breakfast alone. If he hadn’t heard Sawdust speak, he would have assumed that the pet couldn’t understand him. He dragged his hands down his face before putting his own dishes in the dishwasher, taking the food and drink prepared for Sawdust up to his bedroom.

“It’s alright that you don’t want to come out.” He set the bowl and cup on the floor at the door. “Food’s out here for you. I’ll be in the office, it’s downstairs, you can come find me if you need anything.”

Again, Adrien made a bigger deal than usual of going down the stairs. He normally moved quietly around his house, making too much noise made him feel like he was drawing attention to himself, even though he knew that the house was empty. Now, as he goes, he purposefully makes his footfalls heavier, fingers drumming on everything he can, hoping that Sawdust can hear him move and that it eases some of the pet’s worries.

Taking a seat at his computer desk in his sparsely decorated office room, Adrien got to work.

--

Did Sawdust hear that right? Master wasn’t leaving?

The second Sawdust registered that, his stomach dropped. He was anticipating being able to dispose of last night’s uneaten food while Master was out, but now he’s going to have to wait. He heard Master go down the stairs again.

Only when Master was safely downstairs and the sounds stopped did Sawdust poke out of the room and pull in what was left outside for him. The colorful porcelain bowl was filled with some brown square-ish… kibble? Sawdust leaned down and sniffed it, but it didn’t fill his senses with the dense, meaty smell that dog food did. It really didn’t smell like much, and it left him confused. Regardless, his mouth began to water just knowing that it was meant to be edible. Yet he was uncertain if he could eat it.

His stomach gnawed at itself. He had gotten fed by the last people who had him, but they had given him so little. He let out a little whine, one that at least would have brought some of the other dogs over with his last master. A whine that would’ve summoned up comforting licks from the other dogs, but now he was alone. Sure, the other dogs could have been mean, especially when Master made them mean on purpose, but they were still kind at times, and the closest thing Sawdust had to family.

It always hurt Sawdust to see one of them come back with bloody scratches and bite marks, but his master would always tell him that the dogs had to fight in order to make money, so that Sawdust could be fed.

Sawdust didn’t fight. That was why Master always made it clear that he’d be the first one to go if things got tough, so it was Sawdust’s job to keep the other dogs ready for when Master needed them. He’d make sure they ate before he did, make sure they drank before him, and always let them be bathed first. By the time Sawdust’s turn came, the food bowl was nearly empty, the water bowl was splashed across the floor, and the washing tub was full of grime, dirt, and blood.

At least this new master seemed keen on putting Sawdust first. Though he couldn’t really understand why. Sawdust was just a dumb, stupid mutt.

Sawdust didn’t even know why Master had gotten him in the first place. He didn’t treat him like a dog, and he hasn’t made him fight. Sawdust could be furniture, but Master hasn’t requested that either. Maybe he was just waiting for Sawdust to get comfortable so that he could rip it away from him. Throw him in a shed or a basement or an attic somewhere so he could treat Sawdust however he wanted.

Sawdust didn’t even remember why his last master wasn’t here anymore. He remembers noise, and the other dogs barking. It made his head hurt and his skin feel like it was burning. Then he was pushed and shoved around, and thrown into his cage. All that was after that was movement, being rocked around in his kennel while muffled voices spoke above and around him, though he couldn’t understand what they were saying.

Everything was just leaving him confused. For now he’d just bide his time. Sawdust tipped out the kibble from the bowl Master gave him, and nudged it with his nose until it was added to the meat and rice beneath the bed. Clumsily, he held the cup of water with his useless paws and poured at least half of it into the empty bowl- though the rest wound up on the floor. He lapped at the water in the bowl, hoping that it would stave off his headache and the cavern in his stomach.

He slurped and licked at the water until the bowl was completely empty, then he pushed it back outside as he had done the night before. Just crawling back from the door to his corner drained him, he had no energy or motivation to do anything at all. So he settled on laying on his side, curling up, and going back to sleep.

---

Adrien’s work didn’t take long, it never did. With his career as a renovation planner and project manager made him enough money that he didn’t have to work many hours in a day, only about four. That left him with plenty of time to help his new pet, though as he leaned back in his office chair he realized that he didn’t exactly know what to do on that front. For now what he could do is bring Sawdust his meals and continue as he’d been doing until the pet trusts him enough to actually come out so he can get a bath.

The day passed as Adrien expected, getting his work done and swapping empty dishes in front of Sawdust’s door for full ones, pleased every time that the bowls and plates were consistently at least somewhat empty. Despite the food being received well, Sawdust still didn’t so much as peek out of the room. Nonetheless, Adrien did his job as an owner and kept his pet fed.

Night fell, and Adrien prepared himself for bed after taking the half empty bowl of food from Sawdust and putting the remainder of it in the refrigerator. As he was heading back to his room, he couldn’t help himself but put his ear on the door and try to listen in, only to be greeted by silence. With a somewhat disappointed sigh, Adrien went along with his nightly routine of going to his room, checking and locking the window, and doing the same with the door before tucking himself into bed.

The next day passed similarly. Eat. Leave a bowl. Pick it up. Repeat during his break. Do the same at dinner. Go to sleep. Interspersed with Adrien writing down a list of things that he wanted to do to help Sawdust. He also found himself putting a little more thought into just what he was cooking, as opposed to simply throwing random things in a pot and seasoning it just so he’d have something to eat. Each time Adrien was in the kitchen, he was acutely aware of how much he missed cooking for more than just himself.

If it wasn’t for him consistently feeding Sawdust with whatever meat, rice, or potato that he had cooked for the meal, he honestly could have forgotten that the pet was even there. Adrien assumed that Sawdust was just moving around, going to the bathroom, or getting water when he was busy with work.

It was around six in the evening before Adrien wrapped up his work, stretching in his seat before getting up to go and check on Sawdust. He’d given the pet two days, not even counting the one where he’d first arrived, to get settled in. He should be more comfortable by now. Adrien walked towards the stairs, resolute that he was going to try and get Sawdust out of his room.

Looking up the stairs to the hallway, Adrien was surprised to see Sawdust’s door opening.

--

Sawdust’s limbs ached from spending so much time curled up on the floor, and his head was spinning and his stomach felt like it was going to collapse in on itself. As much as his body hurt, and as much as he didn’t want to get punished, he just had to find some dog food. Something he could eat, anything, he was convinced he was going to die if he didn’t.

With a shaky paw, he pushed down on the lever handle of the door, pushing it open and creeping out. His head felt like it was detached from his body as he shuffled out of the room, crawling and barely managing to keep himself on his paws and knees. He may as well have been in a lifeboat out on the ocean with the way he swayed back and forth.

Just as he managed to get out of the room, black dots started to cloud his vision. He squinted at the plain wall in front of him, his paws collided with the half emptied bowl of the last meal he’d left outside the door, he couldn’t stop himself as the world turned upside down and he was sent crashing to the ground.

taglist: @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @neuro-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @whumpcreations @dancinglifeboat @pinkraindropsfell @looptheloup @cowboy-anon @meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

[helloemergencyservices]

Three simple steps for water heater maintenance

Perform a mini flush

Prevent rust and corrosion by clearing the bottom of the tank of debris - a task that also improves the energy efficiency of the unit. While a full flush of the water heater is best, it requires shutting down the water heater. A mini flush works well, takes a fraction of the time and can be done while the water heater is running:

Place a bucket under the drain valve located near the bottom of the water heater.

Turn the valve counterclockwise to drain 3.8 to 7.6 gallons of water into the bucket. Some drain valves have a handle, while others have a short stem with a slot for a slotted screwdriver. Caution. The water will be very hot, so be careful not to burn yourself.

Close the valve by turning it clockwise.

If the valve will not open, contact a plumber for service.

Test the T&P valve

The temperature and pressure relief (T&P) valve is an important safety feature of your water heater. It detects a dangerous pressure buildup or excessive temperature in the water heater tank and automatically opens to relieve pressure. Without a functioning T&P valve, a water heater is at risk of explosion. Therefore, water heater manufacturers recommend that the T&P valve be inspected once a year.

The T&P valve can be located at the top of the water heater tank or in the side panel and has an outlet pipe that goes down to the bottom of the tank. To test the valve:

Place a bucket under the end of the outlet pipe that connects to the T&P valve.

Lift the lever on the valve to manually open the valve. This will release hot water through the outlet tube into the bucket. Caution. The water is very hot, so be careful not to make contact with your skin.

Let the water flow for a few seconds, then release and re-engage the lever to shut off the water.

If the T&P valve does not open and release water, or if it leaks after testing, the valve needs to be replaced.

Adjusting the Temperature Down

Water heaters are typically installed with a preset temperature of 55 to 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Lower temperatures also reduce the risk of scalding and slow the buildup of mineral deposits in your water heater.

To lower the water temperature on an electric water heater, you may need to remove a small metal plate that covers the thermostat:

Turn off the power to the water heater by turning off the appropriate breaker in your home's fuse box.

Remove the thermostat's access panel and set the desired temperature. You may need a flathead screwdriver to do this.

Replace the thermostat cover and turn the power back on at the breaker box.

Many electric water heaters have both an upper and lower thermostat. If your unit has two thermostats, set the lower thermostat to the same temperature as the upper thermostat.

Call the Emergency Plumber in Durham. We are 24 hours available. Call us now, 01913039678.

[sylvanfreckles]

Broken and Beautiful

Broken and Beautiful

Diagnosis. Testing. Treatment. Panic, pain, and hope.

As Cas takes some shaky steps toward self-reliance, Dean finally releases the feelings he’s been shutting away.

Could they both finally find peace and healing?

Chapter Four: Creation in Destruction

Something smelled...good?

“Cas?” Dean dumped the bag from the hardware store on the map table and wandered toward the kitchen, following the aroma of tomatoes and garlic. “You in here?”

He was there. In the kitchen. Perched on a stool he'd dragged over in front of the stove. Balancing a colander full of steaming pasta over a pot. “Dean,” Cas let out a relieved sigh.

Dean rushed forward to take the colander out of Cas's unsteady hands. “Whoa, hold on, I gotcha.” He set the colander into the pot to let the last of the water drain away, then took a step back to regard the...disaster.

The kitchen was a nightmare.

There was uncooked spaghetti all over the floor, splatters of sauce on the counter and up the wall behind the stove, a trail of torn lettuce leaves between the island counter and the garbage can. He felt his eyebrows shoot up, and looked from the mess to Cas and back again.

Cas swallowed and tried to smile. “I made dinner?”

Dean couldn't hold it in anymore. He let out a burst of laughter and gently steered Cas away from the mess in the kitchen toward the table.

“But, Dean, the garlic bread needs to come out of the oven before it burns, and the pasta should be rinsed so it doesn't stick together,” Cas protested.

“I got it, man,” Dean said, easing Cas down into a chair. “Been cooking my whole life, I can handle spaghetti.”

Cas...well, he didn't pout, exactly, but he looked a little unhappy. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Oh, trust me, I'm surprised,” Dean called over his shoulder. He rescued the bread, stuck the pasta under running water (though it had already settled into a pretty serious clump...looked like they were eating spaghetti with knives this time), and gave the sauce a careful stir. A couple of bay leaves floated to the surface, and he eyed the mostly-empty jar of basic sauce that was sitting on the counter.

“You, uh, dump a lot of herbs in here?”

“Charlie said it would taste better if I added a couple of things,” Cas said, a little defensively. “I followed her directions.”

Now Dean saw the note, sitting on the counter next to the jar of sauce. It was pretty liberally splattered with sauce itself, though he could make out Charlie's handwriting. “She set this up?”

“I asked for her help. I wanted to do something...nice. For you.”

Aw, damn, and he'd been laughing about it. “Well, hey, you know I love spaghetti,” he replied. Dean snagged a fork out of the drawer and carefully started to lever out the bay leaves. The fork stuck in something, and he hid a grimace when a chunk of burned...stuff...floated to the top. He really hoped that was from Cas turning the heat too high and not stirring enough, and not from some mystery ingredient.

“I made a salad, too.”

“I saw that!” Those poor tomatoes. What had they ever done to deserve that?

He turned his attention back to the pasta and shook the colander back and forth a little. Ran a little warm water over the noodles, tossed a little olive oil in. It was still mostly clumps, but he could at least wrangle it onto two plates. Dean dumped the pasta back in the pot and turned to grab the tongs, nearly jumping back when he realized Cas was right behind him.

“Jeez! Sit down, man, I've got this.”

“I can bring something to the table.”

“No, you've done enough,” Dean waved the tongs at him. “Really, man, this is great. I'll just haul this stuff over and we can eat.”

“But I was making it to surprise you.”

“I am surprised!” he winked at Cas, then started pulling plates and bowls out of the cabinets. “You've done the hard work anyway, this is the easy part.”

He finally managed to convince Cas to sit back down while he served dinner. The noodles were a little overcooked, but they'd be fine, and he was pretty sure he'd picked out all the burned bits from the sauce. The salad looked like it had been massacred, but Cas had just used the wrong knife. Tomatoes were still tomatoes, whether sliced or smashed.

And garlic bread was garlic bread. You couldn't ruin perfection.

He grabbed the Parmesan cheese on his way to the table, knowing that could cover a multitude of wrongs as far as the pasta went. Hell, and the salad. Sammy wasn't here to frown at how much dressing or croutons he dumped on his salad, so who cared if he was eating a bowl of bacon bits with a few slivers of lettuce?

Dean rubbed his hands together as soon as they were seated again. “All right, thanks for cooking tonight, Cas!”

Cas just gave him a tired look, eyes glancing guiltily over his shoulder. “I'm sorry about the kitchen, Dean. Cooking was...challenging.”

“Hey, destruction's a part of creation, right?” Dean cheerfully shoved a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth, pleased that it tasted palatable. Hell, he would have eaten the whole pot, burned or not, just because Cas went through so much effort.

Mollified, Cas took a small bite of his own pasta. Dean watched him carefully as Cas's face twisted in confusion, then annoyance. “Everything okay?”

Cas huffed out a sigh. “Why does it taste better when you make it?”

Dean threw his head back and laughed. “That's a secret,” he said with a wink. That got him a smile, and they ate in companionable silence for a while.

“So, Cas,” he asked, pushing his empty plate to the side. “Anything else you want to make?”

Cas shook his head. “I don't think I like cooking.”

“Hey, that's okay.” Dean stood up and gathered their plates to dump in the sink, then surveyed the mess in the kitchen. Where to start?

“Although...”

“Yeah, Cas?” The sauce, probably. He should have wiped that up right away, it was pretty dried out now.

“Could you show me how to make a, uh, cassette tape?”

...

(Ch1) (Ch2) (Ch3) (Ch4) (Ch5)

...

Sometimes I just want Flare 'Verse domestic fluff, okay? It doesn't always have to be pain and crying and nightmares...sometimes it can be completely trashing the kitchen trying to make spaghetti!

[gingeralepdf]

Walk On By - Part 1

shoutout to @harrylefleur​ for this^ amazing edit!! thanks again for letting me use it, it’s perfect!!

A/N: hello!! i’ve been slowly cooking up this 70s dealer!harry au (also known as shroomrry) fic ever since the first italy pics surfaced. i had a lot of fun writing this, so i hope you have fun reading it! another massive thank you to brailey @daydreamsofh​ for yelling about shroomrry with me since the very first rough draft. your encouragement and support means so much to me!! ily <3

****DISCLAIMER/WARNING: This fic includes scenes in which characters purchase and consume recreational drugs (psilocybin mushrooms) as well as purchase and consume alcohol. If any of this makes you uncomfortable, please do not feel pressured to read or interact with this fic. And do not consume if you are underage.****

You’re simply buying magic mushrooms from Harry. However, if you keep running into each other, is it going to stay that simple?

word count: ~5k

🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄🌈

**August 30th, 1977, Inglewood, California**

The evening sun beats down on you as soon as you step off the bus. You walk away from the door before reaching for the sunglasses hanging from the collar of your shirt and slip them onto your face before wiping the small beads of sweat from your brow.

“Stuffiest bus ride of my life.” Your roommate and partner in crime, Jenny, walks over to your side. She leans her head back and groans toward the sky, as if to broadcast her misery to anyone that will listen.

“Really? I thought it was a five star experience,” you reply flatly.

Jenny scoffs and looks at you in disgust before shoving your shoulder. “What bus were you on then?”

Your laughs quickly turn into blissful sighs of relief when a breeze picks up. A brief intermission from the heat and residual stickiness on your skin from the crowded bus ride.

“You’ve still got the tickets and the money, right?” Jenny asks.

“Yep.” You pat your purse. “You’ve still got that guy’s license plate number, right?”

Jenny reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, “Yep.”

**********************************

The sign outside of the Forum looms over your heads as you enter the parking lot. The large black letters on the sign simply read ‘FLEETWOOD MAC. NIGHT TWO. SOLD OUT’. Even more gigantic is the Forum itself. You’ve been to a couple of shows at this venue before today, but you still can’t get over just how massive it is. It makes you feel so small even when you’re standing one hundred feet away from it.

Your mind begins to buzz with excitement and anticipation knowing that you’ll soon be inside seeing possibly one of the most in-demand shows of the year. It’s incredibly lucky that you were able to score these tickets anyway. Having a job at a radio station definitely has its perks.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Jenny’s nudging elbow. She holds the paper that has the numbers and letters of a license plate number scrawled on it in front of both of you.

“He drives a blue Pontiac Tempest. He said he was gonna try to park in the third row,” she says.

Both of you look at the paper for a minute, trying to commit the number to memory before setting out to comb the parking lot in search of this mystery man.

With all the other people milling around and gathering in the line outside of the venue, you wonder how many of these people are on a similar mission as you and your friend.

You turn to Jenny, “Do you know what this Harry guy looks like?”

“Uh,” Jenny draws out before pulling her gaze from the line of cars beside her. “My cousin Kathryn said he’s white,” she begins listing things off on her fingers, “has brown hair, has a lot of tattoos, and he’s British,” she looks at you and wiggles her eyebrows.

Jenny laughs when you roll your eyes, “Oh my god I know he’s British. You’ve been going on and on about how he sounded on the phone.” You walk a few more paces before asking, “How does she know him again?”

“They work together at the record store. You probably would have already met him if you weren’t so pretentious about where you buy your records.”

You switch from scanning over license plates to squinting at Jenny, “I’m not pretentious, the owner of that place is just an asshole.”

“You say that about nearly every record store owner.”

“Only the ones that are fifty year old men who constantly degrade female customers’ music tastes.”

Jenny sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. Most of them are assholes.”

“Hey, maybe with your business degree you can be the first record store owner that’s not an asshole.”

She smiles at you and taps her temple with her index finger. “That’s not a bad idea.” Her eyes flit over your shoulder. She stops abruptly and grabs your arm, “Oh-- hey, I think that’s him right there.”

You turn to follow her gaze. Immediately you spot the blue car. You both take another look at the note in Jenny’s hand. Sure enough, the license plate on the car in front of you is a perfect match.

So this is Harry. He has his head down and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration just beneath the frames of his yellow sunglasses. There’s a pencil behind his right ear and his left elbow is resting on the door frame, sticking out of his rolled down window, while his fingers are mindlessly fiddling with his neat mustache. On that same arm, you see scattered tattoos that begin at his wrist and run all the way up into the sleeve of his green and white striped t-shirt. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting of this man, but you can’t help but be struck by how handsome he is. The low hanging sun is casting golden light through his back window, shining through the ends of his brown tousled hair.

The pressure of a hand on your back pushing you forward causes you to whip around.

“Could you go talk to him?” Jenny asks softly.

You give her a ‘what are you talking about?’ look, “You’ve already spoken to him on the phone, Jen, he doesn’t know me.”

“I mentioned you,” she pleads. “Ugh I know I talked to him on the phone but now that I see him in person I’m too nervous.”

You take another look at Harry and look back to Jenny. “Okay, come on.”

As you get closer to his car with Jenny trailing behind you, you begin to hear the music blasting from his radio. Hearing the chorus of “Dancing Queen” somehow makes this situation a touch less intimidating.

You take your sunglasses off your face and hang them from the collar of your shirt. You  clear your throat once you feel like you’re close enough, hoping this would catch his attention. When he doesn’t move, you open your mouth only to realize that you have no idea what you want to say.

“Um,” you hesitantly mumble to yourself as you reach up and knock on the top frame of his window.

He slightly jumps and pulls his arm into the car in response. He mutters a ‘fucks sake’ before quickly turning his head to you, his eyebrows now creased in aggravation.

You jerk your hand back to your side. You’re not sure if it’s the pressure of having to do the talking or his intense stare, but you suddenly can't seem to string a full sentence together.

“Hi. Sorry. I, er--, we... um. We were supposed to--”

Harry looks past you to glance at Jenny and his face softens. He reaches over to turn the radio down before pointing his finger between the two of you, “Kathryn’s friends?”

“Yes,” you sigh in relief.

He nods, brushes a few stray hairs from his forehead and tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “Yeah, come on in.”

Hearing his soft British accent is a lot more endearing than Jenny’s annoying impressions of what he sounded like on the phone.

Jenny follows you around to the passenger side door and you pull on the handle.

When it doesn’t open, you reach through the window for the lock. You freeze when Harry’s hand meets yours. You lower your head slightly to look through the window and see him leaned over, still staring at your hands that are both grabbing the lever. He looks up at you and slightly shakes his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he pulls his hand away and reaches to lean the passenger seat forward.

You open the door and gesture for Jenny to climb in first. After you get in and close the door behind you, you plop down in the back seat next to Jenny, who’s sitting behind Harry. You do your best to hold back a hiss when the heat from the light blue leather seats burns through your trousers and the back of your thin t-shirt.

The car smells fresh and is very tidy aside from a few crushed gum packages on the floorboard. Two little tree air fresheners hang from his rearview mirror, swaying in the slight breeze. You peep down to his dashboard and smile.

“I like your stickers,” you blurt out, pointing to the smiley face sticker and the strawberry sticker above the volume and tuning dials on his radio. Mostly, you’re trying to make amends for startling him a second ago, but you’re also trying to dispel some of your nerves that are still fluttering around in your stomach. The mental image of him peeling stickers from a sheet and putting them on there himself seems to be helping a little bit.

“Thanks.” He cracks a smile over his shoulder. You catch a glimpse of a dimple indenting his cheek. You visibly relax your shoulders upon seeing a change in his demeanor. “Would you mind reminding me of your names?” He asks, taking a glance at his rearview mirror.

You both introduce yourselves.

“So it was you that I spoke with on the phone last week?” he asks, turning in his seat and looking at Jenny.

“Yeah, that was me,” she grins.

“Right,” he huffs. “So I know what you’re both really here for but,” he trails off as he reaches into his lap and holds up a folded newspaper, displaying the daily crossword puzzle. “Are either of you any good at these?” He shakes his head, “I’ve got like... three left and it’s driving me crazy.”

Jenny hums as she takes the paper from Harry’s hand and holds it up between you. Coincidentally, Jenny happens to be very good at these puzzles, often taking this same section out of the paper every day.

She puts her finger up to the page and begins counting the boxes in one of the columns. “Fourteen down is ‘questionnaire’.”

As you skim over the page, you catch an error that could be hanging him up. “And seven across is misspelled. ‘Memento’ should start with M- E- instead of M- O-.”

Both of you look back up at Harry and Jenny hands the paper back.

In the same motion he takes the paper from Jenny and takes the pencil from behind his ear. He sets the paper on his center console and brings his bottom lip between his teeth as he erases and fills in the boxes on the puzzle.

You and Jenny exchange a private laugh. If anyone had asked the both of you to predict how this interaction was going to go, this would not be part of it.

“Well. Thanks. It probably would have taken me forever to get those.” He tosses the paper and pencil on the floorboard in front of the passenger seat and uses his finger to push his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Now, do you have cash with you?”

The shift in his tone catches you off guard, the friendly lilt in his voice being replaced by one more quiet and flat.

Jenny looks over at you.

“Oh yeah, sorry.” You pull four ten dollar bills from your purse and hand them to Harry.

He fans them out before folding them twice and putting them in his pocket. He opens his console. There’s some shuffling before he closes it again and carefully passes you two small envelopes. “Should be one gram in each of those.”

You lean forward in an attempt to shield your actions from people who may be passing by. Carefully, you break the tape seals across the front of the envelopes with your thumb and take a peek inside. Satisfied with the amount of shriveled mushrooms you see, you reseal the envelopes and stuff them into your purse.

“You’ve both taken these before, right?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, a few times before this,” Jenny says.

“Nice. So you know they usually take about half an hour to start working and you’re probably in for about four to six hours of effects and all that?”

“Yeah,” you and Jenny say in unison.

“Okay, I just-- I always want to make sure, you know?” Harry scratches his chin and looks to the side in thought. “Did you drive here?”

You shake your head. “No, we took the bus. And Alice, our friend, is gonna pick us up after the concert.”

He nods, “Okay, good.” He lowers his voice. “The last thing I’ll say is I’ve seen quite a few cops around so… if I were you I’d duck into a bathroom or something to take those.” He slightly raises his hands, “But obviously all of that’s up to the both of you so…” he trails off and shrugs. “Ultimately I hope you both have fun.” He looks at you with a sincerity that puts you at ease. It makes you feel a lot better that he seems to genuinely care about both of you being safe and having an enjoyable experience. You can’t say the same for other dealers you’ve come in contact with.

“We’ll just see what happens I guess,” you shrug back.

“I think we should head in now.” Jenny says, craning her head past Harry to look at the line of people. She pats the back of his seat. “Thanks so much, we really appreciate it.”

“Sure, was great to meet you both.”

“Was good to meet you. Are you going to the show as well?” you ask while reaching forward for the door handle.

He instantly perks up. “I am. Managed to get a ticket. It’s in the nosebleeds but…”

“I had nosebleeds when Queen was here a few months ago and it was still a fantastic show,” you reassure him. You climb out and hold the door for Jenny. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time. Take care!”

You close the door and wave goodbye.

You and Jenny link arms as you’re walking toward the venue, and extra spring in your steps after jumping that hurdle.

She whispers, “I told you he was British.”

“Jen.” You roll your eyes and elbow her side.

You look over at your friend who’s now covering her mouth with her hand, poorly concealing her laughter. You steal a glance over your shoulder. The last thing you see before you turn back around is Harry staring directly back at you.

**********************************

Jenny walks in front of you, weaving through the groups of people as you both search for a water fountain to wash the earthy taste of the mushrooms from your mouths.

You both join the line behind the fountain closest to the main entrance. When Jenny leans down to take a drink, you spot a familiar green and white striped shirt amongst the crowd of people streaming in. Harry is strolling by, heading toward the arena entrance.

He glances in your direction and does a double take. He instantly grins and raises his eyebrows at you, giving you a thumbs up before mouthing ‘have fun’ and disappearing around the corner.

Your cheeks warm and your stomach flutters.

After you’ve had a drink from the fountain, you and Jenny make your way into the expansive arena and join the crowd of people in general admission.

About half way through the opening act, just as you’re about to ask Jenny if she feels anything happening yet, you see her looking at you fervently and everything around you starts to feel dream-like. The spotlights on the stage begin to look like halos, making it impossible for you to turn away. You start to feel as if the music you’re hearing is coming from your own body. The drum beat bursting through your chest and every note from the guitars coming from the tips of your fingers and the ends of your hair.

The euphoria of being surrounded by love and joy takes over you, making you laugh and dance and sing until the music comes to an end.

**********************************

You’re sitting on the sidewalk outside of the Forum, legs crossed in front of you with your elbows resting on your knees and your head resting in your hands. The concrete  has finally cooled off after the heat of the day. You’re hunched over, currently transfixed by a trail of ants marching along the smooth surface in front of you.

“It’s like you can hear all their little footsteps,” you say, your eyes open wide in awe.

Jenny, who’s sitting across from you in a similar position, giggles in response to your observation before gasping. “I hear them too.”

Both of you snort and break out into unrestrained laughter. It’s never felt so good to have the sound of laughter ringing through your ears.

After a moment, you start to hear the sound of something else. It sounds like your name is being called, but it’s not coming from Jenny. You hear your name again, closer now. It sounds as if it’s echoing from the enormous wall of the Forum right next to you. Your eyebrows pull together in confusion and curiosity as you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder.

You’re immediately filled with excitement upon seeing the friendly face walking toward you.

“Harry!” you exclaim, waving wildly.

A smile spreads across his face and you swear little sparkles appear next to his dimples.

You can’t take your eyes off of him as he makes his way over to stand next to you and Jenny. You have to crane your head back to see his face from your position on the ground.

“Hey, you alright?” he eyes both of you curiously.

You simply nod in response.

“What are you guys still doing here?”

Jenny sighs as if this is the twentieth time he’s asked, “We’re waiting for Alice.”

“Well,” he trails off while scratching the back of his head, “you probably don’t know this, but the concert ended about two hours ago.”

For whatever reason, this sends you and Jenny into a fit of howling laughter.

Jenny suddenly stops and looks at you wide eyed. “Hey, lets just take the bus home.”

You gasp and grab Jenny’s shoulder, marveling at her great idea. “The bus! Let's take the bus!”

You rise up to your knees with a newfound surge of energy and Jenny follows.

“No no no no no,” Harry surges forward and presses one of his hands on your shoulder and the other on Jenny’s, urging both of you to sit down.

He sinks to the ground along with you, propping himself on one knee. “Do you have Alice’s number with you? I can try giving her a call?”

It takes you a minute to realize that he’s speaking to you. “Yeah I have my address book in my purse--,” you look down to your side and freeze at the sight of the zipper on your bag. Your stomach drops. You definitely do not want to put your hands anywhere near the jagged edges of the zipper that are suddenly taking on the shape of menacing teeth.

You barely hear Harry let out a breathy laugh. You look up to him and he points to your bag. “Need some help?”

“I….. uh…..” You’re not completely sure what to focus on or how to put your thoughts into words.

Before you can ask for help, he slowly reaches out and takes your bag between his fingers, bringing it away from its resting place on your hip. “S’ this alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.”

He slowly unzips the bag and you grimace at the unsettling noise. Once it’s been opened all the way, he slightly tilts it toward you and asks, “Can I look inside? Or do you wanna do it?”

You flinch away and shake your head profusely, raising your hand up as a barrier between you and the bag. “No, you do it.”

He looks down, reaches his hand into your purse and starts carefully poking through it.

Your shoulders relax as you turn your focus to his hair. It seems to be much curlier and fluffier than before. It looks… inviting, like a soft blanket that you want to curl up into. It seems to have its own gravitational pull. You lean forward, bury your nose in it and take a deep breath in. The smell of apples and some cologne you don’t recognize and the scent of his sweat swirl together in an exhilarating way.

Harry slowly lifts his head up and eyes you suspiciously over the frames of his sunglasses that have slid down the bridge of his nose. Now that you’re sitting here eye to eye with him, you notice every single detail of his face that you hadn’t been privy to before. Every eyelash, the crease between his eyebrows and the way one of them is slightly raised. The deep set dimple in his cheek due to the smirk pulling up on one side of his mouth. The thin green irises of his eyes.

The more you look into them, the bigger they get, and the more you’re able to see your own reflection in his pupils. You tilt your head and smile as they keep growing in size. Just as they're getting to a comical level, making him look more like a cartoon character, you notice a blush creep onto his cheeks.

He folds his lips into his mouth, blinks rapidly, and shakes his head before returning to his search through your purse.

Harry finally pulls out your yellow leather address book. The white daisies printed on the cover seem to dance and twirl in place when he holds the book up and opens it.

Your purse is returned to its previous position on your hip before he looks at you again. He points his thumb over his shoulder at the payphone a few feet from you. “I’m gonna go call Alice. You guys just stay right here, alright?”

When he starts to get up to his feet, you blurt out, “I have dimes you can use.”

The corners of his mouth turn up and he waves you off, “That’s alright, I’ve got some.”

You watch as he walks over to the payphone. You watch as he digs into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a handful of coins in his palm. He inserts a dime into the coin slot and cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear. You watch his every move until the stripes on his shirt begin to ripple as if they’re made of water. This plus the flickering light above the phone becomes too much for you to handle.

You lay on your back with your hands folded across your stomach and begin to take in the stars in the sky, which are somehow less overwhelming than a simple striped t-shirt.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this. You feel like you’re so close to the stars in the night sky that you could reach out to touch one, or maybe even cradle one in your hands to feel its warmth. The sound of Jenny sitting next to you humming some tune you don’t quite recognize only adds to the peacefulness you’re feeling.

A bright light suddenly overwhelms your vision and you look over to your left to see a pair of headlights coming toward you. You hoist yourself up from the ground and bring your arm up to shield your eyes from the blinding light.

The car screeches to a halt at the curb. The first thing you see after the driver’s side door opens is a head of curly hair that can only belong to your friend Alice.

“Holy shit you guys. I’m so so so sorry.” She rushes over to where you and Jenny are sitting. Only half of the words she’s saying are even registering in your mind. “I ended up falling asleep and then there was a car wreck on the freeway and traffic was backed up for miles and-” She stops in her tracks once she’s standing in front of you and snorts out a laugh. “Oh my god you guys are so fucking high.”

Her laughter is interrupted by Harry. “Are you Alice?”

“Yeah, who are you?” she replies with a slight edge to her voice.

“Sorry. I-- I’m Harry. I... uh… I gave them the…”

“Oh you’re Harry. Well. Thanks so much for sticking around with them but I can take it from here.” She shakes hands with Harry before extending a hand to Jenny, helping her stand up and walking her to the car.

Meanwhile, you slowly make your way to your feet and walk over to Harry. He grunts when you clumsily wrap your arms around him in a hug.

“Thank you Harry. You’re a very nice person,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re… You’re welcome.” The vibration of his chest when he chuckles travels all the way down to your toes. You also pick up the thrumming of his heart beating wildly against your ear. His hand lightly rubs your back.

You soon hear Alice’s voice behind you saying your name. The feeling of her lightly tugging on your t-shirt coaxes you away from Harry and into her arms.

Before you know it, you’re settled into the backseat of Alice’s car next to Jenny and Alice is shifting to drive.

As you slowly pull away from the curb, you steal a glance over your shoulder to see Harry standing on the curb. He has one hand on his hip and the other is scratching his jaw as he watches your car move away. His figure is getting smaller and smaller as you leave the venue. Just before you turn the corner, you see him step over to the payphone again.

**September 1st, 1977, Los Angeles, California**

You take a long sip of your coffee as you carefully place the needle on your record player. After a few seconds of rustling and popping, the first kickdrums of The Five Stairsteps’ “O-o-h Child” fill your living room, followed by a chorus of trumpets.

Jenny left for work early in the morning and you have a day off, so you’re relishing in the freedom of having the house to yourself.

You walk through the doorway into the kitchen where your fried egg is sizzling on the stove. With your free hand, you take a plate from the cabinet and set it on the counter before grabbing a spatula, turning the burner off, and carefully lifting the egg out of the pan onto your plate. You pluck the piece of toast from your toaster and turn to set your plate on the table along with your coffee mug. The only thing missing is the newspaper, which is most likely still sitting at the end of your driveway from the morning delivery.

You pad through the hallway to the front door, turn the lock, and swing it open. As soon as the early fall air hits you, however, you come to a halt and let out a shocked gasp.

An equally startled Harry is standing on your front doorstep with one hand behind his back and the other hovering over your doorbell. All of your systems stall for a moment, as if you’re trying to connect whatever dots you can to make this scene make sense in your brain. You can feel heat quickly spreading all over your face each second you both stand there in silence, which you both break at the same time.

“What are you--?”

“Sorry I--”

You press your lips together and wait for him to continue.

“I’m sorry. I, um,” he clears his throat before dropping his hand by his side, “I should have called ahead of time.”

“What-- uh,” you stop to rephrase your question since What are you doing here? sounds a little more blunt than you’re wanting to be. “What brings you here?”

“I just thought I would stop by on my way to work.” He pulls his hand from behind his back, revealing the yellow and white cover of your address book in his hand. “Wanted to return this to you.”

He must have picked up on your confusion as you take the book from his hand and run your thumb over the cover.

“I’m sorry. I accidentally left it on top of the payphone after the concert. Didn’t realize until you had already driven off. But your address and everything is written in the front so… thankfully it wasn’t hard to figure out how to get it back to you.” He gestures to the book before jamming his hands in his pockets.

“Oh,” you draw out as the realization dawns on you. In the process of debriefing your trip with Jenny and Alice, you thought that Harry had given your address book back to you, concluding that it must have been somewhere in your house. You figured it would turn up someplace unexpected, and technically you turned out to be right. You laugh to yourself, “I thought I lost it somewhere in my house or something. I-- Thank you.”

You spare a glance at him for long enough to catch the tight grin on his face, causing his dimples to indent on his cheeks.

As you’re taking in his loose fitting white shirt and ripped jeans, you’re quickly becoming aware of the fact that you’re only dressed in cotton shorts and your old UCLA t-shirt you had slept in. If this whole interaction had been timed better you at least could have run to your bedroom to throw on pants or a sweater before answering the door. You reflexively cross your arms in front of you.

“So you had a good time, I hope?” Harry’s question interrupts your thoughts.

“Oh, yeah. Alice just brought me and Jenny back here and we sat around listening to music and talking. Then we pretty much spent all day yesterday sleeping so.” You shrug.

“Did your bag give you any more trouble?” he squints, pausing around the word ‘bag’ and giving you a sly smirk.

You scoff and shift your weight to lean against the doorframe. “No, it did not,” you mutter defensively toward the ground.

He breathes a laugh through his nose and you urge yourself to steer the subject of conversation slightly away from the specifics of your high state the other night.

“Also, thanks so much for staying there with us. I mean, who knows what we could have gotten into.”

“Oh, it was no problem. I’ve done some pretty stupid stuff while on shrooms, even when I’m supervised so…” he trails off into a chuckle.

You smile at his confession, somehow you can’t imagine this level-headed man doing anything stupid.

He continues. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” After a brief pause he adds, “You and Jenny.”

Your eyes snap up after he corrects himself.

He looks down at your doormat, scratching his chin. His cheeks tinge a light shade of pink.

“Well thank you. And thank you for coming to return this,” you say through a deep sigh, raising the book in your hand.

“Of course.” He looks over his shoulder at his car parked on the curb before turning back to you. “Well, I better get going. Was good to see you.” He nods before turning toward the street.

“Yeah, see you around.”

“Take care!” he calls over his shoulder, throwing a peace sign in the air.

Once he’s walked away, you retreat into your hallway and close the door. Your house is now quiet since the record you were playing has reached its end. There’s nothing to mask the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. You stare at the door for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head.

“See you around?” you mock yourself. “Where are you going to see him around?” You rest your forehead against the door and let out a deep sigh that gradually turns into a groan.

Harry’s car rumbles to a start outside. You don’t want to release the tension in your shoulders until you’re certain he’s driven away.

A thump on the other side of the door makes you jolt back. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you look through the peephole and see Harry climbing into his car and shutting the door.

You reach down to the door knob and open the door halfway, barely poking your head out. You can’t seem to find the source of the noise until you look down and see the newspaper rolled up in a rubber band sitting on your welcome mat.

You glance back at Harry just in time for him to flash a smile, give you a wave, and take off down the street.

*************************************************

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-> PART TWO <-

[thebrotherssalvatore321]

Keeping Secrets Ch. 52

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

Katie was pulled from sleep the next morning by the loud, electronic whirring of a jackhammer on concrete. Half asleep and unhappy she threw on a robe and tied it as she headed out onto the balcony. “Enough with all the racket!” Klaus yelled from the balcony across from her, dressed in black jeans, a maroon shirt and a black leather jacket. Clearly he and Genevieve had been awake for a while and Katie was almost certain she saw red paint that matched the color of Genevieve’s hair on the tips of his fingers that rested on the wooden railing.

“What he said.” Katie groaned then looked up at the sunlight coming in through the glass ceiling of the courtyard, silently cursing it for being so bright as she headed down the stairs.

“I agreed to a general sprucing up, not a bloody three ring circus.” Klaus complained as he walked down the other set of stairs with Genevieve trailing behind.

“Marcel and his minions abused our home for the better part of a century.” Elijah said from where he stood near the fountain in a pair of jeans and a mid tone grey, quarter sleeved, cotton shirt. “Now you might be content to live in squalor,”

“With squalor.” Katie chipped in as she moved to stand beside Elijah, getting a glare from Genevieve that she didn’t see because she couldn’t make herself look at either of them.

“,but I am not.” Elijah finished what he was saying, ignoring Katie.

“I agree with your brother.” Genevieve told Klaus as they walked over to stand across from Elijah and Katie. “It’s a new era in the French Quarter. This place could use a makeover.” She looked down her nose at Katie. “Out with the old and in with the new.”

Klaus didn’t miss Katie’s lack of reaction to Genevieve’s prodding nor had he missed the fact that she was blatantly avoiding eye contact with him. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood for a girl fight this morning.” She sighed then looked across her shoulder at Elijah. “I get this isn’t my house, but next time will you please warn me before you host a jackhammer symphony in the courtyard?”

“Of course.” He told her with a smirk at her morning grumpiness. “My apologies.” He watched her as she walked around him headed back to her room to get dressed.

When she walked into her room she noticed a dream catcher sitting on the table in the corner amongst a few knickknacks. Seeing red, she snatched it off the table and, like a woman on a mission, stormed downstairs where Elijah, Klaus and Genevieve were still talking.

Both of the men knew the look on Katie’s face, the rage in her eyes and what it could lead to, but it was Elijah who stepped into Katie’s path to Genevieve before she got too close. He held his hand out to stop her, which worked, and tried to look her in the eyes, but they were trained on the woman behind him. “Katie…before you act I urge you to stop…and think.” With nostrils flared and rage still in her eyes she looked to Elijah’s that dropped, noticing the dream catcher clenched in her fist. He dropped his hand and gingerly took the hoop from hers then turned to Genevieve. “Does this…trinket belong to you?” Genevieve opened and closed her mouth looking like a land bound fish. “Either it does or it doesn’t.”

Genevieve looked across her shoulder at Klaus before her eyes fell to the ground. After a few seconds she made herself look at Elijah. “Yes, it’s mine.”

Elijah held it up in both of his hands as if he were holding a small steering wheel then twisted, breaking the hoop and causing the bones on it to fall to the floor. “We all signed that treaty.” He told her with a look over his shoulder at Katie then back at Genevieve. “If I find another one of these little spy glasses of yours anywhere in my family’s home I will consider it a violation and I will be forced to take action. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” Genevieve answered with a straight faced nod.

“So I suggest, if you have left any more laying about, you remove them…immediately.” He gathered the remnants of the dream catcher in his hand and held it out to her. She took it and went upstairs to collect the dream catcher from Katie and Klaus’s quarters. With her out of sight Elijah turned to Katie.

“Don’t look at me like that, Elijah.” She told him tiredly as she turned her back on him and headed upstairs.

“Katie.” Elijah called and she stopped in the middle of the stairs to look down at him. “After you have gotten dressed and calmed yourself…the three of us have some business to discuss.”

She gave him a sarcastic salute, “Ten-four rubber ducky” then headed up stairs.

TVDTVDTVD

After taking a shower to clear her head she changed into a pair of black leggings and a long sleeved, light grey shirt dress and headed to the room with the bar, couch and wall of records that she was starting to call the lounge where Klaus and Elijah were waiting. “So, what business do we have to discuss?” she asked in no mood to beat around the bush.

“Genevieve has requested that the witches' right to celebrate feast days be reinstated. Starting with La Fête des Bénédictions.”

“What’s that?” Katie asked curiously.

“The feast of the blessings. People would bring the witches gifts in exchange for their blessings.” Klaus explained and Katie once again didn’t look at him.

“Genevieve would like to use the feast to introduce The Harvest Girls to society. The gifts will be given to them.” Elijah added. “You signed the treaty and you are a part of this family. We need your help making the final decision on the matter at hand.”

“First of all, I know I signed the treaty, you don’t have to keep reminding me of what I signed up for when I did.” She started as she walked over to the couch and sat down across from the chair that Elijah sat on the arm of while Klaus sat at the bar with a drink in his hand. “And on the matter of La Fête des Bénédictions, I think we should let them.”

“Really?” Elijah and Klaus asked, both sounding surprised.

“Really.” She answered with a nod as she leaned back on the cushion and placed a hand on her stomach. “The witches won’t adhere to the treaty if we don’t show them some amount of respect.”

“I thought you hated the witches.” Klaus spoke up curiously.

Katie looked at her hands folded in her lap. “Truth be told the witches that I’ve been harboring so much hate for…the ones that took action and tried to kill our baby, are dead now.” She looked up at Elijah. “Plus I like Davina. That poor girl deserves a day of recognition after everything she’s been through. So I’m for feast days being reinstated.” Elijah, who had a frown on his face, turned to look at Klaus.

“I agree with Katie, plus the tourists eat this stuff up.” Klaus told Elijah

Elijah took in a deep breath then side nodded as if he’d been outnumbered. “I’ll personally invite the other factions and get them on board.”

“Are there any more matters that need to be discussed?” she asked, eager to get out of the room.

“That is all.” Elijah answered, so she stood and left. Elijah stood and looked at Klaus. “Is everything alright with you two?”

“I’m afraid not.” Klaus answered then threw back what was left in his glass.

“What did you do?” Elijah asked.

“Nothing, but she doesn’t know that.” He answered as he slid off of the stool and left.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie was standing in front of the open refrigerator, staring off into space, when Elijah found her. She was so zoned out that she didn’t even know he was there until he touched her forearm that was resting on the refrigerator door. Pulled from her thoughts she took in a sharp breath then looked at him. This time, she didn’t have to guess at the question in his eyes. “Did Klaus send you here to talk to me or are you here of your own volition?”

“I’m here of my own volition.” He answered, watching her shut the door, move to the overhead cabinet and opened it. “You seem troubled.”

“I’m fine.” She replied casually as she grabbed a box of chocolate pop tarts then shut the door.

“You can fool a lot of people. I am not one of them.” He argued as she opened the foil package, stuck the dark brown frosted squares into the slots then pushed down the lever.

She said nothing and moved to get a glass, but Elijah stepped in the way. “Get out of my way, please.” She told him sounding tired.

He turned to the cabinet, grabbed a glass then turned back and held it out to her, “Talk to me.”

“I can’t talk to you Elijah. Not about this.” She argued with a shake of her head as she took the glass from him then went to the refrigerator and grabbed the half gallon of milk. When her pop tarts popped up Elijah grabbed a plate, put them on it then set it on the bar beside her glass as she put the milk away.

“Have you tried reaching out to your Mystic Falls friends?” he asked as she sat down at the bar and took a bite of the cheap pastry.

“Yeah, none of them are answering.” She answered then took a drink of milk.

“Then it seems I am a last resort.” He told her and she gave him an aggravated look through her lashes as she took another bite. He leaned down, looked her in the eyes and placed his fingertips on his chest. “You can talk to me.”

She sighed and looked down at her plate. “Fine.” She washed down the chocolate with a sip of milk then set it down. “I saw Klaus kiss Genevieve last night.” She admitted.

Elijah frowned. “Was that not part of the plan?”

“It was, but…” she shook her head, “there’s a difference between knowing that he’s kissing her and actually seeing it.” Elijah moved to sit in the barstool beside her. “I was so consumed by my hatred of her, my fear of bringing my baby into an unsafe environment, my part to play in the plan to create said environment that I…convinced myself that I was okay with him being with her.”

“But you are not.” He observed.

“No, I’m not. I can handle him kissing her. I don’t like it, but I can handle it. What I can’t handle is him having sex with her.” she admitted feeling like the type of stereotypical, dramatic woman she usually despised. “Ninety-nine percent of the time I mean what I say and he knows that.”

“You’re afraid it’s too late to say something.” He surmised.

She bit her lips closed and nodded as she looked down at her pop tarts that had gotten cold then looked back up at him with worry in her Kelly green eyes. “Have I made a huge mistake?”

“There is only one way to find out.” He answered and stood up and started to walk away.

“Elijah.” She called as she turned around in the swiveling bar stool and he turned back to her. “Thank you.”

He gave her a small nod and smile in return then left her to finish her unhealthy breakfast.

TVDTVDTVD

She went to their quarters thinking Klaus would be there, but he wasn’t. So she checked his studio, but he wasn’t there either. Not knowing where else to look she went to her room. It was there she found him, exiting the nursery. Their eyes met as he was closing the door. “Is it finished?” she asked timidly with a point to the nursery.

“Yes. I just finished adding the final touch.” He answered noticing her change in attitude. “Would you like to see?”

She shook her head no as she walked over and sat cross legged on the queen sized bed. “Not yet.”

He walked over and sat down beside her, pulling a leg up on it, facing her. She took in a deep breath then let it out. “I hate beating around the bush so I’m just going to ask. Have you had sex with Genevieve yet?” she asked, getting straight to the point.

He slipped the backs of his fingers down her cheek, taking in the tired, worried look in her eyes. “I couldn’t.” he answered, making a relieved sigh slip from her lips as she grabbed his hand from her face to hold it in both of hers.

“I know I said I was okay with you having sex with her and I know I’m not usually one to backpedal, but…I not okay with it. I didn’t realize how wrapped up I was in this stupid plan of ours until I saw you kiss her.” Katie explained. “Some queens encourage their king to take on a mistress, I am not one of them.”

A fleeting smile graced his perfect lips. “You just referred to yourself as a queen.”

She let go of his hand to place one of hers on his cheek. “I’m your queen.” She clarified. “Wait, you said couldn’t, not didn’t. Why couldn’t you?”

“Several reasons.” He grabbed her hand as she dropped it from his face. “It may be possible for a man to fake completion, but it is virtually impossible for a man to fake arousal.” His confession made a small smile tease the corners of her lips as she remembered the conversation that had about her faking it with others in the past. “Kissing her is comparable to kissing a dead fish,” he told her as if he were reading a list, “and most importantly, she’s not you. I couldn’t take on a mistress even if you begged me to.” he kissed the palm of her hand then held it in both of his. “Not to mention I knew, despite your open minded tendencies, you didn’t want me to lay with her. You once said the thought of another woman flirting with me made you want to punch something. So if just the thought of someone flirting with me made you that angry what would me having sex with someone else do?”

“Well, when I saw you kiss her last night I almost broke the champagne glass in my hand. So if that’s any indication there would definitely be bloodshed.” She answered flatly as she dropped her eyes to her hand in his, thinking he was asking what it would make her want to do.

“It would break your heart.” He answered as he gently grabbed her chin and lifted it, making her realize he was asking what it would do to her. “Just as mine would break if you were to ever lay with another.”

Tears welled in her eyes as he dropped his hand to rest on her knee. “So,” she paused to clear her throat and blink back the tears, “what did the two of you do last night if you didn’t have sex?” she asked with a frown, wanting to know yet not wanting to at the same time.

“I gave her an, oh so heartfelt and completely untrue explanation for why I want to take it slow with her. I respect her too much to rush it, the women of my past that I was so quick to jump into bed with meant nothing to me, etcetera.” He told her with his hand on his chest then dropped it. “I thought she believed it, but that spyglass she planted in your room says otherwise.”

“Either she didn’t believe you or she did believe me.” Katie replied, making Klaus give her a curious look. “I may have gotten a little too catty last night and told her that her time with you was limited and to enjoy it while it lasted.” Klaus tilted his head at her. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have said it, but she’s so freaking confident that I didn’t think she would read too much into it.” she said the two words with gritted teeth then sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “So, what do we do as damage control?”

“Ask Elijah to accompany you to the feast.” He answered simply.

“Come again?” she asked as she took her hand from her face and looked at him like he was crazy.

“We’ve shown her that I am not interested in you, now we must show her that you’ve decided to move on. If she sees you with him maybe she’ll think you are trying to rekindle an old flame.” Katie frowned at him. “Just make sure Elijah knows it’s only for show.” Katie didn’t like the idea, but it was the best shot they had at cleaning up the mess her mouth had created.

“You’re sure?” she asked with a serious look. “It feels like we just crossed a bridge similar to this one.”

“I’m sure.” He was serious. “I trust you, which as you know is not something I take lightly.”

“Okay.” She told him with a nod then decided to change the subject. “So, how did it go with Jackson last night?”

“Once I told him that I could give him and his people a life in the quarter with no turning on the full moon he was all in. He and Cary are working on locating the black kyanite for the rings, but it’s rare so it might take some time to track down.” he answered. “Everything is going according to plan. And thanks to you being you and Elijah being Elijah we no longer have to censor ourselves in our own home.” He leaned in and caught her lips with his for a slow tender kiss. “What do you think about me asking Genevieve to break the hex on Father Kieran?” He asked.

“I think if she can break it, let her. Father K. is a good man. If she can save him from losing his mind and Cami from losing the only family she has left then I’m all for it.” she told him honestly.

“Then I will pay Genevieve and Cami a visit.” He told her then pecked her on the lips and stood from the bed.

“And I will get Nate to come dress shopping with me…again.” She said, hating clothes shopping this late in her pregnancy.

“Please don’t make it your goal to torture me all night.”

“Don’t worry. I dress to match the man whose attention I want for the night. This time that man will have to appear to be Elijah who prefers modest elegance over sexy and form fitting.”

“Before we go our separate ways for the day…” he held his hand out to her and she took it as she stood from the bed and jerked his head toward the nursery. Klaus pushed the door open and held his hand out for her to enter first so she walked in seeing the simple and understated, but elegant nursery. A dark wood crib with a ruffled, cream colored skirt around the bottom sat with the head of it in the corner of the room with a couple of pillows and stuffed animals inside and a mobile of strung up crystals hung over it.

In the corner to the right of it sat a wooden rocking chair and on the wall across from the crib and the rocking chair hung a beautiful painting of the city of New Orleans, the moon in the blue night sky that contrasted with the red lights from the city, reflected off of the Mississippi river. Katie walked over to the small white dresser it was hung over and picked up a stuffed Elephant that was sitting on it along with a few teething toys, a figurine of two giraffes and the wooden knight that Klaus had carved, then turned to look at him with the elephant clutched to her stomach. “It’s perfect.”

The tears in her eyes made him laugh. “It’s just a room, love, no need for tears.” He cupped her face in his hands wiping her cheeks.

She grabbed his wrists as she laughed with a sniffle. “I blame the hormones.”

“Ah, excuses, excuses.” He told her jokingly.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head as he dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her close. “So the red paint that was on your fingers this morning was that from this?” she asked with a point to the painting.

“Did you think I slept with Genevieve then painted her?” he asked and Katie nodded. “Painting that woman would be an insult to you and a waste of a perfectly good canvas.”

Katie slid her hands up his chest and rested her arms on his shoulder, crossing her wrists behind his head. “I love the painting you made for our daughter, I love this room and I love you, Big Bad Wolf.”

“And I love you, Little Phoenix.” He replied then caught her lips with his. When the kiss broke he gave her a smile. “So…you signed the treaty. Does that mean you have accepted your position as queen?”

“It means I’m willing to see if there’s any truth in what you and Elijah keep telling me.” she answered. “I just hope I’m not aiming too high.”

“No worries, love. I’ll catch you if you fall.” He told her as he wrapped his arms around her waist and she gave him a wrinkled nose smile. “What?”

“That was cheesy.” She laughed.

“Cheesy or not, it's true.” He argued then caught her lips with his.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie was having dinner at the bar in the kitchen when Klaus walked up behind her, swept her short waves to the side and started kissing her neck. “Long day?” Katie asked over the music that filled the room from her cell phone on the bar then stabbed her salad with the fork in her hand.

“You could say that.” he answered between kisses then sat down beside her. “I asked Genevieve to cure Father Kieran, but she used his ailment as an excuse to get her hands on my mother’s grimoire to solidify her place in her coven. When I told her no she mouthed off and I threatened her. Needless to say she’s a little ticked at me.”

“Well that’s not good.” Katie observed.

“No worries, I’m sure she’ll come crawling back for more soon.” He told her with a confident smirk that made her shake her head at him. “That just means I get to spend more time with you.”

“I like the sound of that.” she pushed her empty bowl away. “Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“I made an alteration to one of our bedrooms.” He stood from the barstool and held his hand out to her. She took it and let him lead her to the room attached to the nursery. When they walked in she instantly noticed the 43 inch tv that had been mounted on the wall across from the foot of their bed. “I figured it would be easier to watch ‘The Walking Dead’ together if the screen was bigger than the one on your laptop.”

“You want to watch ‘The Walking Dead’?” Katie asked with an amused smile.

“I’m interested in what catches your interest. This Daryl Dixon character in particular.” He told her as he settled onto the bed then held his arm out to her.

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you about the Winchester brothers Sam and Dean, from ‘Supernatural’.” She told him as she crawled onto the bed and sat down in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her, but didn’t say anything so she looked at him over her shoulder to see him giving her a playful glare. “Dean’s my favorite.” She admitted with a cheeky grin just to mess with him.

“Now I don’t know which one I want to watch with you.” he told her, still glaring.

She laughed. “‘The walking dead.’ I like Daryl better and there are fewer seasons to watch.” She plucked the remote out of his hand and turned her attention to the tv. A giggle left her lips when he playfully growled and bit where neck curved down into her shoulder.

After Daryl made his first appearance in the third episode Klaus paused the show. Katie smiled to herself wondering what Klaus’s reaction was going to be. “That hostile, backwater, redneck is your favorite character?”

She started laughing as she turned around to sit on her knees in front of him. “If I recall you weren’t all sunshine and butterflies when you first came to Mystic Falls, mister judgy.” He rolled his eyes at her and rested his hands on her sides. “First impressions aren’t everything. Daryl comes across as an asshole, but he’s actually really caring and loyal.” She defended her favorite character. “Not to mention he has really nice arms and he hardly ever wears shirts with sleeves so there’s an almost constant source of eye candy.” She added just to mess with him and he gave her a side eye making her try and fail to hold back her playful smile.

“Eye candy huh?” he asked, making her laugh and nod as he grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. “How’s this for eye candy?”

“That’s not eye candy.” She answered with a shake of her head as she set her hands on his wrists where his hands held her sides, her eyes taking in his perfectly toned torso.

“No?” he asked, sounding a little disappointed.

“No.” she answered as she looked him in the eyes and slipped her hands up his forearms and biceps to rest on his shoulders. “Eye candy is something that is only pleasing to the eyes.” she stood up on her knees and he closed his black pants covered legs so she could straddle them and sit in his lap. “You, Niklaus Mikaelson, entice all of my senses with your gentle touch…your warm, spicy scent,” She peppered light kisses over the feather tattoo on his shoulder, “the taste of your skin,” she kissed up to his ear and whispered, “The sound you make when I do this…” she kissed back down to where his neck met his shoulder and gently grazed her teeth over his smooth skin before she bit down hard but didn’t break the skin, pulling a groan from him that sent a tingle through her to her core. She pulled away and looked into his slightly lust veiled, blue eyes. “The way it feels like you can touch my soul just by looking into my eyes...” he grabbed her hands in his and threaded their fingers together. “It’s damn near spiritual.” A toothy smile took over Klaus’s face as he looked down at the bed, a hit of red coloring his cheeks. “Did I just make you blush?” she asked as she dipped her head into his line of view.

He laughed as he looked back up at her. “Maybe.” He told her looking bashful, something she had never seen from him before, making her smile bigger and him to wipe the look from his face. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to do that thing you do.”

She started innocently twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Thing? What thing? I have no idea what you’re talking about, Big Bad Wolf?”

He laughed at her. “The one where you shower me with affection and outlandish compliments knowing full well that it has a very…” he let go of her hands and grabbed her hips, rocking her into him to let her feel what she does to him, “arousing effect on me.” Instead of arguing that her compliments were not outlandish like she wanted to, she gave him a flirty smile and bit her bottom lip. “Yeah?” he asked with a glimmer in his eye.

“Baby M. has dropped. I can breathe easier now, but my appetite sucks. So I have a small, energy boosting request.” She answered with a glance down at his neck.

He used the nail of his middle finger to make a one inch cut where she had bit him earlier then tilted his head to the side. “Have at it, Sweetheart.”

His whispered words sent a shiver through her that was only amplified when she closed her lips over the cut and a pained yet satisfied moan left his parted lips. His hand moved to hold the nape of her neck as she drank until the cut closed then licked over the healed skin and up his neck to his ear. “Neamhaí.” “Heavenly.”

A smirk pulled at the corners of his lips and when a deep growl rumbled up from his throat she pulled back to see the heart stopping view of his hybrid eyes. With a whoosh he moved her to lie on her back and a yelp followed by a giggle left her smiling lips at the sudden action.

TVDTVDTVD

The next evening Katie was walking down the stairs into the now refurbished courtyard when Klaus found her. “Well, I can’t say I don’t find you just as mouthwateringly tempting in that dress.” He told her as he took in the black dress with off the shoulder, three quarter sleeves of lace that continued over the bodice of the dress. The satin flowing skirt was short, stopping just above her knees, but the black panty hose and lace flats she wore with it kept it classy and elegant.

“Something tells me that you’d think I looked tempting wearing a burlap sack.” She told him with an eye roll. He just pulled the corners of his mouth down and tilted his head with a shrug agreeing with her. “So what are you going to do while Elijah and I are at the street festival?”

“Genevieve was all too eager to get her hands on mother’s grimoire.” He told her not being able to resist placing his hands on her hips and pulling her close.

“You think she’s going to try to steal it?” Katie asked curiously.

“Yes.” He answered. “She can’t risk not being seen at the festival, so she’ll most likely send a lackey or two. I’ll be here to intercept them if need be.”

Elijah cleared his throat and Katie turned from Klaus to see him walking down the stairs before she turned back to Klaus, who let go of her sides and tucked his hands behind his back. “See you at the after party?”

“Yes.” Klaus answered. “And I’ll give Davina the gift we discussed.” Katie cupped his cheek in her hand and caught his lips with hers. When the kiss broke she looked up at him through her lashes, a silent reminder that she loved him, then turned to Elijah.

“Ready?” he asked as he held his arm out to her.

“As I’ll ever be.” She told him as she took his offered arm and they left the courtyard.

“I’m a bit surprised Niklaus told you to ask me to accompany you tonight.” He told her as they strolled down the busy sidewalk waiting for the sun to set and the parade to start.

“I was too.” She admitted. “I just hope I’m not getting in the way of another woman who may wish to be wooed by you tonight.”

“I take it you’re referring to Francesca?” He said with a look at her across his shoulder and she gave him a knowing smile that made a smile pull at the corners of his lips. “If anything you are helping me send her a message.”

“And what message would that be?” Katie asked curiously.

“That her particular brand of business woman is not my type.” He answered.

“Then what is your type?” she asked without thinking as they walked past a booth selling glow sticks, light up noisemakers and other light up accessories.

“I’m afraid my answer to the question might overstep certain boundaries.” He answered with a look that only further answered her question. “So instead I’ll say you look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you.” she told him with a smile that said she was grateful he didn’t make things too awkward.

“Have you already eaten dinner?” he asked to change the subject.

“I had a small bite to eat a while ago.” She answered. “Why?”

“There’s a vendor around the corner selling gumbo. I hear it rivals Sophie’s.” He explained.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” She told him politely, but he still seems let down that she declined his offer of a food he knew she liked. “I appreciate the thought, but the baby’s in a weird position. She’s been putting pressure on my stomach all day. I can’t eat more than a few bites of something at a time without getting sick to my stomach.” When music started playing from the speakers on the stage at the end of the parade route they stopped walking and turned to the street.

People all dressed in the same shades of light brown lined the outer edges of the street, walking with lanterns on poles while The Harvest Girls were carried down the street on sedan thrones like queens. “Are you at least able to enjoy the festivities?” Elijah asked with a look across his shoulder at Katie who was still holding his arm.

She took her eyes off of Monique Deveraux, who was currently passing them, smiling and waving at the cheering crowd while wearing a headdress of white roses, accented by earthy elements and a brown dress, to smile up at him. “Yes. Is there ever a boring day in this city?” she asked.

“Only if you live on the outskirts.” He told her with a smirk referring to the time she spent bored out of her mind at the plantation house. She just shook her head at him and went back to watching the parade.

Abigail, the blond harvest girl, representing air, dressed in a simple white dress with shimmering long sleeves and a head dress made of draping cords of crystals passed by waving elegantly to the crowd, trying way too hard to look like a princess. When a light breeze caused Katie to shiver, Elijah noticed, took off the jacket he wore over his suit and draped it over her shoulders.

Katie knew it would be pointless to argue with him so she simply said, “Thank you” and accepted the coat. When she turned her eyes back to the street Davina was passing by, sitting in her throne as the embodiment of fire in a bright orange dress and an orange, red and black beaded headdress. When her eyes found Katie in the mix of people her face lit up and gave her a wave. Katie smiled and waved back, just happy to see a smile on the girl's face.

“That is yet another example of why I believe you will make just as wonderful of a mother this time around as you were with Jonah.” Elijah told her, making her look at him from Davina. “You care about her for no other reason than she needed someone to. She’ll never forget your kindness and honesty.”

“I just hope the witches aren’t being as hard on her as the ancestors were.” She sighed then watched as the Harvest Girls were lowered to the ground and helped down off their thrones.

After they took the stage Genevieve joined them. “And now in accordance with the Fête des Bénédictions, the witches of New Orleans bless you all.” Genevieve stepped aside and Monique stepped up and held her hands out to the side. The earth shook and while most people looked around in awe, Katie and Elijah simply watched as she lowered her arms and the earth calmed. She stepped back and Abigail stepped up and held her arms up beside her head. As she made a sweeping motion the wind kicked up and Katie pulled Elijah’s coat tighter around herself until she dropped her hands and the wind died down.

Abigail stepped behind Monique putting the spotlight on Davina who turned from the crowd and held her hand out at a fleur de lis that was hanging behind the stage setting off sparks that outlined it and when the out line was complete fireworks shot up from behind the stage lighting up the night sky with bursts of green, white and purple. “Is it stupid that I love fireworks?” Katie asked Elijah as she looked up.

“Not at all.” He answered and she looked at him. “I enjoy them quite a bit myself.” She simply smiled and looked back up at the sky as he rested his hand on her lower back and followed her gaze.

When the fireworks were over Katie and Elijah moved to the entrance of the building the after party was being held in and stood just inside the gate, welcoming the guests with a smile. When The Harvest Girls walked by Abigail and Monique just gave them polite smiles, but Davina stopped, “I’m so glad you could come.”

“What you thought I’d miss all this?” Katie asked with a look around. “Fire suits you by the way.”

Davina smiled and looked down at her bright dress. “Thank you.” One of the witches called Davina’s name from the door, getting her attention and then waved her inside. “I gotta go, but we’ll catch up later? I missed you at the last party.”

“Yeah, of course.” Katie answered then jerked her head for Davina to go inside before she got in trouble for lollygagging.

Davina was disappearing through the door of the building when Genevieve stopped and looked at Elijah. “Thank you, for all of this.”

“This isn’t for you.” Elijah replied choppily. “I didn’t even want to entertain the idea of this silly party, but Klaus argued that your people would never accept a truce unless we showed them some respect. So be it.” he held his hand out to the door with a condescending smirk on his face. “Enjoy your party.”

Genevieve looked down at Katie standing next to Elijah, dressed appropriately in an outfit that was showing far less skin than Genevieve’s black dress with two slits in the front of the long skirt that were just inches away from meeting her hip bones, showing a generous amount of leg when she walked. Seeing that Genevieve was trying to figure out Katie’s one eighty when it came to party attire, Elijah wrapped his arm around her waist and closed the small space between them. Genevieve just lifted a brow and hummed at the new development before she walked off.

“Why did you just give Klaus all the credit for this party?” Katie asked, not mad, just curious.

“I simply gave her reason to believe Klaus is on her side.” he explained with a look down at her. “It goes without saying that your argument was the reason I agreed.”

Katie just shook her head and looked back at the people passing them by. When Hayley and Jackson walked into the gate they stopped and turned to Katie and Elijah. Elijah and Jackson shook hands while Hayley, holding a white gift box in her hand, looked at Katie. “Are we good?”

Katie looked at Elijah then back at Hayley. “Yeah. No harm no foul.” Katie nodded graciously. “Our agreement still stands.”

Hayley gave her a tight lipped smile. “Thanks.” She took Jackson’s offered arm as they walked into the party. Then Elijah took his arm out from around Katie, closed the gate then offered her his arm. She took it and let him walk her into the party.

As the party started and people started sitting gifts at The Harvest Girls feet where they sat on thrones, Katie noticed that not a single gift was given to Davina and it was starting to hurt Davina and piss off Katie. “May I ask what that look on your face is about?” Elijah whispered from where he stood next to her.

“They are excluding Davina.” Katie answered and Elijah noticed the lack of gifts in front of Davina. “Excuse me for a moment.” She went to the restrooms, made sure no one else was in there then locked the door as she pulled her phone out of the silver clutch she’d been holding all night and called Klaus.

“Are you alright?” Klaus asked when he picked up.

“I’m fine. Listen, the witches are excluding Davina. They haven’t let her receive even a single gift and that part of the night is almost over.” Katie explained.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she receives our gift.” He told her with a devious tone in his voice. “I’ve taken out Genevieve’s lackey and mother’s grimoire is safe. I’m on my way now.”

“Then I’ll see you soon.” She replied then hung up. On her way out of the bathroom she bumped into Davina. “Hey, are you okay?” The hurt look was clear on the girl's face.

“Not really.” She sniffled then noticed someone behind Katie. “Josh, what are you doing here?”

“Are you kidding, there’s no way I’d miss out on your big day.” Josh answered. “Besides, music, wind, fire, the club kid in me is, like, in heaven.” Davina smiled but it quickly fell. “You don’t look like you’re having much fun though.” He looked at Katie wondering what happened.

“The other witches are being petty, as usual.” Katie explained.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Josh asked Davina who nodded and they turned to leave.

Katie was trying to think of a reason for her to stay when Klaus’s voice hit their ears. “Joshua.” The two teens turned and looked at Klaus. “What a fortunate coincidence finding you here.” They probably thought he sounded angry, but Katie knew why he called it a fortunate coincidence that Josh was there. “We have unfinished business.”

“You need to leave here. Right now.” Davina told him, getting ready to defend her friend if need be.

“Now, to be fair, you’re not quite as powerful as you once were, are you?” Klaus reasoned. “You’re in no position to give orders.” Klaus whooshed behind Josh and grabbed him by the back of his neck. “Come along, lad.”

“Hey, can we talk about this?” Josh asked as he walked him out into the party, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Josh?” Davina asked with a look back at Katie, scared for her friend. Katie kept her face emotionless as she followed them into the party then walked back over to Elijah.

“What is going on?” Elijah asked, looking a little worried at his brother's antics.

“You’ll see.” Katie told him. “No one’s going to get hurt.”

Klaus left Davina and Josh at the bottom of the stairs then walked up a few of them to be the center. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please.” He asked with his arms held out to the sides as if he were the ringleader of a circus. “We’re gathered here today to pay homage to our beloved witches, but one very special witch has been utterly ignored.” He walked down the stairs to stand on the bottom one. “That seems a little unfair to me.” he held a small jewelry box, tied closed with a dark purple bow, out to Davina.

“No.” she told him with a shake of her head making Klaus’s diabolical smirk fall. “I don’t want your gift.”

“I understand why you would reject me, given my original intentions for you.” he told her, holding the box out to her, but she still didn’t take it. So he tucked it back into his pocket and addressed the rest of the room. “In truth, many of us here today have been wronged in the conflict which my brother's treaty ended.” He looked back down the Davina. “Your friend Josh was involved in a plot to kill me. It would be well within my right to execute him. Here and now.”

Josh looked nervously between Davina and Klaus. “I thought you said no one was going to get hurt.” Elijah whispered.

“No one is. Just watch.” Katie told him then looked back at Klaus.

“But, in the spirit of solidarity, and for your favor, Davina, I hereby pardon him.” Klaus said as he set his hand on Josh’s shoulder then looked down at him. “Josh, from this day forward, you have nothing to fear from me.” he dropped his hand from Josh’s shoulder then looked at Davina and pulled the box out of his pocket, holding it out to her again. “Please.” Davina took the box from him, making Klaus smile in triumph.

When Klaus walked away Katie left Elijah’s side to go to Davina who was staring at the box in her hand. “So, are you gonna open it?” Josh asked with a smile, happy to be off of Klaus’s hit list.

“You’re gonna like it.” Katie sing-songed with a smile as she bumped Davina’s shoulder with hers.

Davina just smiled then untied the bow around and opened the hinged felt box containing a silver ring with a blue stone and a folded up piece of paper. After unfolding the paper Davina cast a confused look at Klaus’s back then looked at Katie. “Is this real?”

“Yep, straight from momma original’s cookbook.” Katie confirmed and Davina beamed up at Josh.

“What is it?” Josh asked, wanting to be let in on things.

“It’s the spell that makes daylight rings.” She told him, making him smile, then she looked at Katie. “Thank Klaus for me?”

“Sure.” Katie told her with a smile. “So, how have you been?” Katie asked.

Davina frowned. “Better now that I can do magic again, but the coven hates me. Monique used to be my best friend, but now she acts like she’s so much better than me.”

“Yeah, I saw her give you a few smug looks.” Katie observed. “But you know what?”

“What?” Davina asked.

“She’s not the one who was given a page from the spellbook of a very powerful witch.” Katie told her, making her smile shyly.

Elijah walked up and placed his hand on the small of Katie’s back. “I hate to pull you away, but there are a couple of faction leaders you have yet to officially get acquainted with.”

Katie parted ways with Davina and Josh and let Elijah lead her in mingling with the faction leaders. The party was going boringly smooth when a group of men dressed in white suits playing drums came down the grand staircase Katie thought it was a nice change of pace, but when they announced that they had a message from Marcel and slit their wrists her opinion quickly changed and dread took over the pit of her stomach.

Elijah stepped out of the group of spectators that had gathered around to watch and spoke to the vampires in the room who’s true faces were showing. “Control yourselves. This is a vulgar trick. We do not violate our agreement.”

As soon as he finished his sentence the lights flicked off and screams filled the room. “Klaus!” Katie yelled not able to see a thing in the room, but before Klaus could get to her the lights started flashing and the face of Thierry appeared in front of her before he bit her neck. Klaus pulled him off and threw him into the wall behind him. Instead of going after Thierry he kneeled down next to Katie and scooped her up into his arms.

When the lights flicked on Elijah whooshed to them where they were on the floor, Katie with her hand on her bleeding neck. “What happened?” Elijah asked as he brushed her hair aside and moved her hand to see that she had healed.

“One of them bit her.” he answered. “I didn’t see who.”

“It was Thierry.” She groaned and sat up with Klaus’s help.

“This is all my fault.” Klaus said with wide eyes. “I went for his girl so he came for mine.”

“Klaus…” Katie sighed.

“No, he’s right.” Elijah spoke up. “If Thierry is out for revenge he will not stop until you are dead.” He told her then looked up at Klaus.

Klaus helped Katie stand up. “Are you okay?” Katie just nodded. “Stay with Elijah.” He told her then started to walk off.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked and he walked back over to her and cupped her cheek in his hand.

“No one harms my family and lives.” He answered then kissed her on the forehead and left.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie was getting out of the shower when her phone started ringing and she looked at it to see Bonnie’s name. “Bonnie, hey, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you guys for days now.”

“Yeah, I saw your missed calls, I’m sorry I didn’t return them. Things have been a bit hectic here recently.” Bonnie answered.

“Well, what’s going on? Is everyone okay?” Katie asked, worried.

“Everyone’s okay, but a bunch of Travelers took a lot of Stefan and Elena’s blood because the blood of the last two remaining doppelgangers can undo a witch's magic. A bunch of the travelers drank it and committed mass suicide. When they passed through me it did something to the other side. Spirits are getting torn away from the other side into nothingness and they’ve been able to interact with our side.” as Bonnie explained things Katie went to the closet and grabbed a pair of pajamas off of the shelf. She was walking into the bedroom when Klaus walked in with blood on his hand.

“I bet spirits like Mason Lockwood are having a field day with Damon right now.” Katie guessed remembering the last time spirits could interact with the living.

“Yeah it’s worse than last time considering this time I’m getting pestered by ghosts with grudges against Damon.” She said as if her statement was aimed at someone in the room with her. “Anyway I just wanted to call you and let you know that we’re all okay and to keep an eye out for vengeful spirits. I don’t know how widespread this thin vale thing is and with you living in a house full of originals…”

“I’ll watch my back.” Katie assured her.

“I wish we could talk longer, but I have to go.” Bonnie told her, sounding annoyed.

“Yeah, just…stay in touch, okay?” Katie asked.

“I promise.” Bonnie told her. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Bon.” Katie replied then hung up the phone.

Klaus walked out of the bathroom and slipped his now clean hand over her bare shoulder. “Everything okay?”

Katie grabbed her pajama top and he stepped back to let her put it on. “That was Bonnie, there’s something going on with the other side.” he frowned as she grabbed her shorts and pulled them on. “The spirits are able to interact with our side, she was warning me in case it wasn’t just happening in Mystic falls.” When she was done getting dressed she stepped back into him and wrapped her around him, resting her forearms on his shoulders while her fingers played with his hair. “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?”

“Nope.” He answered as he wrapped his arms around her, resting his hands on her lower back. “Have you?”

“Nope.” She popped the p at the end of the word. “So I take it Thierry is dead?”

“Yep, like I told you, no one harms my family and gets away with it.” he told her as he cupped her cheek in his hand, but she turned her head when she yawned. “You know he is just the first of many to come, right?” Klaus asked as she walked around to her side of the bed and pulled the covers back.

“Uh huh.” Katie answered and was about to slip into bed, but he whooshed in front of her. She looked up at him through her lashes.

“We have to talk about this, love.” He urged.

“You have enemies and your enemies tend to do to you what you do to them. It’s pretty obvious to me that you see, or have seen, love as a weakness and you’ve exploited that weakness in the past. So they will come after me because unlike the rest of the people you love I can die. It’s not anything I didn’t already know when I fell in love with you.”

“But tonight-”

“You saved me.” she pointed out then grabbed his face gently in her hands. “You pulled Thierry off of me and you saved…us.” she looked down at her stomach then back up at him. “I’m a human in a vampire’s world and tonight my life was threatened.” She moved her hands to rest on his chest. “It only reminded me that I have to take advantage of every moment I’m still breathing. We have to create as many little moments of bliss as we can because you are going to need them to look back on when I’m gone.”

To shut her up and keep any more talk of her leaving him from escaping her mouth he kissed her and he didn’t stop until they were both out of breath. “I will not let anything take you from this earth, you hear me?” Katie just nodded and let him scoop her up with a whoosh and lay her in bed then lay down beside her.

They didn’t talk, they didn’t kiss or make love. They simply enjoyed the warmth, the comfort and the relaxation of being in one another’s arms.