#Nova | Lumen meanwhile is pleased she's putting her lessons to good use. but sees through her most of the time

[infinitethree]

Daz is still in the hidden room, working on the code with Innit– which is surreally nostalgic– when Aster suddenly shouts at him.

“You planned to kill me just because I didn’t buy your act?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He squints up at the traitor, needing a few moments to recalibrate to sudden conversation.

“Oh,” he says, blinking. “You were a threat. You still are, technically.”

Aster glares at him, and Daz rolls his eyes. “Save your bullshit. The more you talk, the less able I am to work on the damn code.”

Naturally, Aster is suspicious of that. “Code for what, some new sociopathic plan of yours?” Daz shoots back, “Innit and I are working on making its body, actually. Y’know, the thing you pushed for so bad?”

Suddenly, the bastard is in his personal space. He’s got one palm against his shoulder like he’s keeping him pinned back and growls, “You did something, didn’t you?”

It’s surprising to see him get so handsy. “Don’t fucking touch me–” “What did you do, asshole? We both know that you wouldn’t suddenly decide to be a decent fucking person without a reason. So– what. Did. You. Do.”

Daz’s sight is hijacked to see the past again.

Aster suddenly stops dead in his tracks in the middle of doing work in his office. He’s fumbling with his com, scrolling through the player list as fast as he can with trembling hands. His face has gone ashen and his thoughts are–

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck c’mon, c’mon you bastard, tell me you haven’t done it yet!

A shaky laugh escapes from Aster, but he only takes a moment to revel in the overwhelming sense of relief he feels. Not dead yet. Thank fuck…I might actually become religious from this.

Aster takes a sharp inhale and then quickly flicks through his com to find a specific menu, one Daz knows too well. It’s the one for activating remote stasis chambers, and thus the only way most of them can access the Council HQ.

I might kill you myself for this, though. Fuck, Daz– why do you have to be so broken…?

…Was that how Aster reacted when he saw that Daz was about to get himself killed for good?

A twinge of guilt threatens to tug at him, but he bats it away easily.

None of that would have happened if Aster stayed in his own fucking lane, after all.

He’s yanked to the future, which he knows is the future because Future-Aster is looking at Future-Daz, and he looks older.

Plus there’s the whole– sappy emotions, and the earcuff in Future-Daz’s ear.

The eventual version of himself is asleep on a couch that Daz hasn’t seen before. The room is unfamiliar, too– is this where they live?

Actually, from what he can see of a window, he sees some of those trees Aster loves so damn much. He must have remodeled the traitor’s house, then.

The weirdest part is that there’s a kid conked out on Future-Daz’s chest. She looks pretty young, maybe only four or so. Her hair is done up in pigtails and ribbons.

The ribbons are what gives it away, though. Daz knows his own handiwork, and he knows he’d be gun shy about giving anything like that to anyone, but especially to a kid.

Any kid but his own, that is.

…Shit, they have a kid? That’s so fucking weird!

Future-Aster thinks to himself, She looks just like him. I guess I’m just used to kids who are adopted; it still catches me by surprise. That’s genetics for you.

Daz is suddenly thrown back to the present again, reeling at the baffling and surreal implication that they– what, get a surrogate?

Uhhhg. Gross, on multiple levels. In no way shape or form does he want to– have any of that, and especially not with Aster!

Said bastard grips his shoulder and repeats, “I asked you a question–”

It’s not worth hiding it. He can’t effectively torment him without spilling the beans, anyway. “Made a deal with the Showrunner. I work on Innit’s body, meaning Innit can work on its body, and in exchange I see the same shit you do.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and then Aster scoffs and steps away. “You’re such a petty bastard.”

Even though it might prove his point, he retorts, “That’s not what you say at our wedding, you know.”

“Are you seriously going to–” Voice flipping to a mimickry of how Aster sounds, he recites, “ ‘I won’t say ‘til death do us part’. Death is too soon to let you go, so…instead? Instead, I’ll follow you through a hundred thousand lifetimes. Death, rebirth, oblivion– I don’t care. As long as you’re there, and as long as you want me…? I’ll follow you,’ ” Daz smugly tells him.

Aster glares at him with a surprising amount of venom, and then answers, “ ‘You stole my heart, but I can’t even be mad. Nothing in my life has been as good as you. Your devotion is the balm against the long, miserable, lonely years before I was with you. I can take on gods with you at my side, but without you I’m less than nothing. What I want more than anything is the die of old age in our sleep at the same as you. I love you to the point of madness; to the point of ruin.’ “

Goddamnit.

The bastard folds his arms over his chest. “You want to go low? I’ll match you. I’m not quietly putting up with your shit any more, Daz.”

He scoffs. “This’ll be fun to talk about eventually.” “Oh, I’m sure we’ll laugh and laugh over what an insufferable sociopath you used to be.” “No, I mean–”

Wait a minute.

He pauses. “...Have you seen anything big aside from the wedding and the– whatever the fuck you saw that had the suits?” “Christmas celebration, and no. Why, what did you–”

The wary question is cut off by Aster’s eyes suddenly going wide.

“Oh fuck no,” the bastard breathes. “A kid?!”

Uhhhhg, of course the Showrunner would decide to show him the damn kid.

He rolls his eyes. “Great, there goes that plan–” “To not tell me we have a goddamned child?!” “Well, evidently you adore her.” “I had fucking better, given she’s named after me!”

“Bullshit. She’s– uhg, apparently we do some shit with a surrogate–” “Then look up what ‘Azira’ means. Go on, I dare you.” Aster tells him.

He’d sound threatening if Daz wasn’t immune to him by now.

With a scoff, he pulls open one of the databases they use.

…Fuck. It means ‘a rising star’.

As he glowers at his com, Aster tells him, “I remember because it's a name related to stars. You know– my whole thing?”

“Clearly, I take pity on you and throw you a bone because I'm the biological dad.”

Aster stares at him, an odd expression on his face. “I– the rest of how fucked it is aside? That tracks. If I did love you and did decide to start a family with you, I'd rather– uhg, our kids, as gross as that feels to say– I would rather they have a shot at your freakish intelligence.”

…Huh. That's weirdly mature of him to admit.

“Granted, they'd also be at risk for inheriting your sociopathy, so maybe not. Tell me– was that genetic, or learned from your monster of a brother?”

Aaaaand there’s the loss of any goodwill that gained.

Sneering, he shoots back, “I know that about as well as you know if your stupidity is genetic.”

Aster’s gaze narrows, and he grabs a fistful of Daz’s shirt. “Careful, you don't want to piss me off.”

“Or what?”

A slow, ominous smile curls up on the bastard's lips.

“You made it so that nobody else can be an effective sparring partner for you. That means you're going to get your ass handed to you if you keep fucking around.”

He laughs in his face. “That’s your big threat?! Oh, honey…that's pathetic. You can't fully beat me up, you'll look like an asshole.”

Aster’s smile only grows. “You underestimate me, Daz. You always have.”

Is that really what he thinks?

Daz might have manipulated him, sure– but he always saw Aster as someone with potential.

That's why he extended a hand for the Council. It's why he pushed and bullied and forced Aster to grow.

Left to his own devices, he would be a fraction of the person Daz helped shape him into.

Aster, for years, held the most vital role in his plans. Daz never would have let someone he deemed unworthy control the Swords and Shields, nor hinge his last resort on them.

As little as he likes the traitor…Aster is competent, determined, and surprisingly humble.

He scoffs, “You understand me even less than before.”

With that, he forcibly removes Aster’s hand and gets up.

…Only to get hit with a dizzy spell and start going down immediately.

Aster catches him, probably without even meaning to. “Daz?”

Huh, he actually sounds worried.

Blinking dark spots from his eyes, he shoves his wrist upwards to look at his console. It takes a few tries to get it right, which he’s aware is a problem.

He struggles to focus enough to see the time, but Innit notes with surprise, it’s been sixteen hours since you ate. Were we really here for that long…?

Ohhhhh. Yeah, that’d do it.

He mumbles, distantly aware that the words aren’t coming out right, “Big pr’ject. N’t used to it. Forgot t’eat.”

He’s set down on the couch with a surprising amount of gentleness, considering they were fighting just a moment ago.

“I’ll be right back,” Aster tells him, going back through the passage he came from.

Right, sure.

Daz closes his eyes to fight the way his body is suddenly screaming at him to take care of it. He’s exhausted, starving, and sore from both the repetitive motions and not moving around much.

There’s the sound of a throat being cleared, and when he opens his eyes, two sandwiches are being held out to him.

…Huh. He didn’t actually think Aster would come back.

He grabs them and damn near inhales the food, ditto for the water he’s given.

Finally feeling a bit better now that he’s sitting and with something in his stomach, he asks Aster, “...Why?”

A long, tired sigh comes from the other Tommy, who sinks down next to him on the couch. “...I think you’re a petty, selfish bastard. But I don’t you to suffer,” Aster tells him, brow furrowed a little.

Weird.

“I still hate you for seeing in my head.” “Aren’t we even for that? I’ve explained my reasons. I reluctantly agreed once the wish was brought up; you did this all on your own our of petty spite.”

That gives him pause. “...You never mentioned it was reluctant.”

Aster stares at him in bafflement. “I was ready to refuse, but it’s a literal fucking reality warping wish– one I can hand over to anyone I want. There’s– shit, Daz, I might not have known but it was being offered by the god of time and reality. And fuck knows what else they reside over!”

He hates that he has a good point.

“I thought you jumped on the chance to pry my head open.” “I hated the idea, actually. I know you’ve secretive and I didn’t want to invade your privacy. But I assumed, stupidly, that I’d just– be told things. Like how Observers ask questions. In what fucking way was I supposed to know that I’d see things, and be in your head? I knew you’d be mad, but I, again stupidly, figured that you could recognize that the wish was worth the mortifying ordeal of being known.”

Daz knows he’s sulking as he mutters, “You could have asked me.” “Really didn’t feel like that was an option. Would you want to tell the Showrunner ‘please wait while I call up the guy you hate for permission’?”

Goddamnit.

See?! I told you he’s a good person!

“Shut up,” Daz mutters, scrubbing at his face. “I don’t need you yammering in my ear, too.”

Stop being a dick ‘cause I was proven right yet again. You always ignore me and it always fucks you over.

Aster asks, “Innit talking?” “Mhm. I’m not acting your gofer, you’ll have plenty of time to talk soon enough.”

There’s a little bit of blessed silence, and Daz feels his eyes getting heavy.

Fuck, he doesn’t want to fall asleep like this. But he’s tired, and…

And, as little as he wants to admit it, it’s nice to have someone next to him.

A small, stupid, childish part of him wants to ask Aster to stay right here so he might not be tormented by nightmares.

But also, he’d rather die than voice that tiny desire.

There’s a little disappointment as the other him starts moving, but it was inevitable.

Then he’s scooped up.

He sputters, “Wh– what the fuck?!” “Unfortunately for you, I know what you want. Even worse, I’m not enough of an asshole to refuse,” Aster tells him, just before tossing him onto the bed.

His heart hammers. “If you try anything weird–” Giving him a withering look, Aster snaps, “The fuck do you take me for? No, asshole, I’m dealing with your nightmares, insomnia, and touch starvation in one fell swoop.” The bastard undoes his shoes and flops down.

Oh hell no.

He tries to get up, but Aster yanks him back down. “I don’t trust you to get home on your own, and you’ll sleep like shit anyway. If you’re doing something nice– even if it’s for extremely fucked up reasons– I’m rewarding that by letting you actually fucking sleep for once in– what, four years or so?”

…It sucks that he can’t muster up the energy to fight this more seriously.

But, gods, real sleep sounds amazing. And his body is screaming for it, practically forcing it on him already.

So, reluctantly, he lets Aster wrap his arms around him and start messing with his hair.

“You can go back to being an insufferable asshole tomorrow. For now, just take this with a little grace.”

Daz can’t reply, because he’s already out like a light.