#Okay but.. I think the real question here is why are those PlayStation buttons??

[infernwetrust]

A Little Attention Please [Michael Langdon x Jim Mason x Fem Reader] Pt 1.

Summary: Jim grows tired of Michael working on the holidays and in attempt to get his attention says some pretty truthful, but hurtful words, to which the both of you will now have to suffer. 

Warnings: pre-smut, angst, swearing, mentions of drug use, a little bit o-violence, arguing

WC: 2.5k

A/N: I’m really getting into the Michael x Jim x Y/N universe and I like it. The next thing I put out will be for Hands On, which can be found here. In the light of the upcoming New Year, here ya go! Thank you for reading! 2 part series. -Juno

They were going at it again. You could hear them. Michael and Jim, arguing. And while this wasn't the first of the many arguments between just the two, this one was serious. This one intensified as the constant shouting and the occasional shuffle of noises, which you knew were things either flying around or breaking, only continued to get louder. Jim was beyond fed up with Michael working all the time, but today hit home for the boy. It was New Years Eve. They were suppose to be getting drunk and high together, like Michael promised. They were suppose to be cooking together, all of them, like Michael promised. And if anything pissed Jim off the most, it was just the fact that they were suppose to be spending time together, but they aren't.

Once again, Michael got wrapped up in his cooperative work. He sits at his desk for most of the day, coming out office every now and then to make sure Jim and Y/N were still okay or to grab another Monster and a snack. He reads and replied to a slew of emails and texts from his Mac. He'd have a couple phone calls and a couple FaceTimes with what he called "the esteemed members of the cooperative". This one phone call in particular set Jim off and for a moment you blocked out the intensifying argument coming from Michael's office to replay the events leading up to this in your head.

***

You and Jim sat around the island counter, your hand lovingly rubbing over his thigh as the two of you stared up at the kitchen TV, watching whatever was on, sharing a bowl of popcorn. In the other room you could hear Michael, yet again, taking another phone call, when he was suppose to be out here with you and Jim.

"I mean what else is there to do before midnight?" you heard Michael ask whoever he was speaking to on the phone. "Just work, work, work, and work, you know that."

You could tell that Jim was getting aggravated as his leg now began to bounce against your hand as he tried to remain focused on the show playing in front of him. In an effort to help, you slowly glided your hand across the bulge that formed between his legs a few minutes ago, around the time you started rubbing his thigh. That was a huge turn on Jim had that you recently discovered. Anything dealing with his thighs, Jim was hard as a rock. Rubbing, biting, scratching, kissing, licking, you name it.

"Oh. Jim and Y/N are in the kitchen. I hear them in there watching Big Bang Theory." Michael said as he continued his conversation. "Ahhhh. They'll be fine for a few more hours. They know how important my work is. Doesn't matter as long as I'm in there before midnight, right?" Upon hearing those words, Jim slammed his hands down on the table, getting up, eyes red from his own intoxication with marijuana.

"Jim please don't." you whispered, grabbing his hand.

"Please don't?" he whispered back, raising his eyebrows at you. "Please don't?! I'm so sick of this Y/N."

"I know, baby." you said, standing up to face him, holding onto his hand. "But you also know Michael's role and what he has to do."

"I don't give a fuck about Michael's role right now. We gave him Christmas. We gave him Thanksgiving. We gave him his favorite, fucking Halloween and the one time we ask him to please be fully present on a holiday, what is he doing?" You fell silent, knowing that Jim was right. "Answer me, Y/N. What is he doing?"

"Talking it up with his cooperative 'bitches'." you replied. That's what Jim liked to call them and Michael often found it amusing, not knowing Jim's angry connotation behind it.

"Exactly." Jim said. "So let me go."

Michael walked in the kitchen, still on the phone, and glanced between the two of you, giving both of you a wink before grabbing a water from the fridge and making his way back to his office, causing Jim to snatch his hand from you, trailing shortly behind.

"No holidays off. Ever. Not even birthdays." Michael said. "I know I can't even rem-,"

Michael's conversation was cut short by Jim, who grabbed his phone from his ear and chucked it against the wall with all his strength, watching as it shattered to pieces. Michael quickly turned around, eyes black as the night sky before quickly realizing it was Jim who appeared in front of him.

"Jim..." he spoke, his voice soft, but also laced with a little bit of anger. You decided that you wouldn't follow Jim into Michael's office because when things got bad between the both of them, it got real bad. "Do you want to explain to me why you just did that? I was in the middle of an important call."

"Why does it matter Mr. Big Shot Anti-Christ?" Jim spat. "You work so fucking much that you have all the money in the world to by a new one right? People at your disposal 24/7 and on call for you, right, Mr. Langdon?"

"Jim what are you getting at?"

"And what do Y/N and I get again on another holiday, nothing." Michael sighed, sitting on the edge of his desk and folding his arms across his chest. He assumed that this was just another one of Jim's little outbursts, so he was going to let him finish. "A couple of kisses and a quick fuck, isn't doing it for me anymore Michael." Jim paused, turning around to look at Michael's giant flat screen that occupied the wall directly in front of his desk. What appeared on it, made Jim's blood boil even more. More often than not, on days that he was especially busy and especially missing his babies, he kept a slide show on of pictures and random videos of the 3. This slide show just happened to be his private album of the 3. Pictures ranged from his nudes, Jim's nudes, your nudes, to the pictures he took during the many sexual adventures the three of you would go on.

"Oh so this is how you get your rocks off instead of spending time with us, huh?" Jim asked, glaring at Michael. "Because why have the real thing when I can just stare at the pictures all day?" Michael chuckled, running his hands through his long blonde hair, his eyes never leaving Jim's. "I'm glad you think this is fucking funny." And without warning, Jim grabbed Michael's PlayStation controller and threw it at the TV.

"Jim what the fuck is the issue?!" Michael asked, starting to get angry. "Breaking things isn't going to solve anything!"

"You Michael. You are the fucking issue! The cooperative is the fucking issue!"

"Jim Jam you know I have to work! I'm not just some regular fucking CEO. Im the-,"

"Fucking anti-Christ. Yeah, tell me something I don't fucking know. So far that's all you've been rather than a lover to me and Y/N. One holiday. That's all we both asked of you and where are you Michael? In here. Again! It's fucking 8PM and we haven't even started cooking because we've been waiting on your ass all day!"

"I don't know how many times I have to explain to you how important it is that I have all these files together and quickly."

"And that's what you have a second in command for. Tell them to fucking handle it! You don't have to over see everything 24/7, Michael! We exist too. We want your attention too. We worship the ground you walk on too, but you know what they don't do?!"

"Jim, don't start-,"

"They don't love you like we do Michael. They follow your fucking DEAD BEAT father, Michael. Not you! Last time I heard, it was Hail Satan not Hail Satan's son."

"I suggest you watch your mouth, Jim Mason."

"Or what?" Jim asked, stepping closer to Michael. "You do all this work to impress your daddy, but where is he? I'm gonna recreate the world in my father's image, but where has father been throughout all of this?"

"He's doing his best!"

"His best? Oh fuck me, Michael. His best?! He left you in the middle of the woods to DIE at one point Michael! He ignores you on days ends, only giving you maybe an answer when he sees fit. And your cooperative bitches? Satan probably doesn't answer them either so of course they're following in your fucking foot steps. Who's the next best person when we can't reach the devil himself? His son."

"Stop." Michael said, sternly, jaw clenched.

"Yet here Y/N and I are, loving you for more than the fact that you're just the anti-Christ and we find ourselves constantly at the bottom because everything is sooooooo important. Fuck you, Michael. I love you, but fuck you. And if it came down to it, since no one really wants to put it in your head, your father would have no problem watching you die."

"I'll snap your neck." Michael said, grabbing Jim by his throat and giving it a squeeze.

"Did you ever really stop to think about it?" Jim questioned. "He's selfish, Michael. There can only be one Satan and if it means watching you suffer and struggle to find answers, then of course he's going to turn a blind eye to his precious boy. And his precious boy, so eager for every one in the world, not just his significant others, to suck him off, is willing to work himself to death for an answer he'll never be able to find." Jim was pushing all the right buttons and he knew it. If he couldn't pull Michael out of his work nicely, dark Jim was going to do it.

***

"Cooperative this! Cooperative that!" Jim yelled, storming out of Michael's office with Michael's MacBook in his hand, causing you to get immediately snap your head up.

"Jim, I swear, if you fucking-," Michael said, trailing behind him.

"You'll what, Michael?!" Jim questioned, abruptly stopping to turn around and face him. "You'll snap my neck? Set me ablaze? Do it then. At least that's some form of attention." And again without warning, Jim smashed Michael's computer, screen open, face down, on the coffee table, right in front of you, causing you to flinch and yelp.

"Jim!" you shouted, but Michael stood perfectly  still. And you remembered, vividly, what happened the last time Michael stood perfectly still. You quickly hopped up to your feet, grabbing Jim by his arm and yanking him towards the back door. "Come on, Jim."

"I'm not running from him." Jim said, stiffening his body so you couldn't pull him away any further.

"No, Jim, seriously. We need to step outside. I know he's not saying it, but I've seen this before and we need to give him some space. Now."

"I think he's had enough space from us."

"Jim can you put your anger to the side for one minute and just listen. I know you're upset and you have every right to be, but please, let's just go outside and give Mike some space."

"Whatever." Jim sighed, softening up and letting you pull him away, but before you could even get the door open, Michael used his powers to lock all of them, cocking his head to the side.

"Shit..." you mumbled to yourself. Why did Jim have to be so angry? Why did Jim have to get himself riled up and then go get Michael riled up? How did you always end up in the middle of it?

"Attention." Michael spoke, shifting his stance. "That's what you wanted right? Some attention?" He looked at the both of you, annoyed that he wasn't answered right away. He glared at Jim. "Answer me!"

Both you and Jim still remained silent, knowing that if you gave Michael the wrong answer, he'd snap. But what you both failed to remember is that Michael above all, hates not being answered at all. With the snap of his fingers, both you and Jim were tied up to a dining chair, stripped of most of your clothing.

"Okay my little brats. Since no one wants to give me answer." Jim went to move his lips to say something, but Michael, with the use of his powers, kept him silent. Michael squatted down, taking his blade from his back pocket, gently rubbing it along Jim's skin causing Jim to shiver. Michael could see the fear in both of your eyes. He could smell it more than anything and boy did that give him a rush.

"What's wrong, Jim?" he asked, chuckling. "Satan's son got your tongue? Baby boy, if you wanted me to fuck you so bad, all you had to do was ask. I mean the answer would of been no, considering how terribly you've been behaving, but damn Jim, breaking my shit? Oof. That's an all new low for you. And now look, hmmm? I'm gonna have to break you, starting with that precious little mouth of yours. I could smell your horniness the moment I walked into the kitchen and hear the frustration as I listened to your thoughts."

"Oh and my lovely little Y/N." Michael continued, his sexy, sadistic gaze now falling onto you. "You thought you would get off free, didn't you? Mmmm, no baby, I could hear your thoughts too and feel your frustration. And I guess daddy is so sorry that he's been neglectful of his pups, but what daddy is not sorry for, is working to ensure that the correct people make it to this new world."

"Nonetheless, daddy is done working now, I suppose, since you know, his stuff was broken, so now he has no other choice, but to dish out some attention, yes?" Michael looked at his watch that now read 9:30PM. No, that's not the longest argument him and Jim ever had. In fact the longest argument was between the 3 of you, lasting 4 hours in total. "Wow and only 9:30? This is going to be so much fun." You and Jim shuffled around nervously, but aroused in your seats.

"You see. I'm going to spend the next 2 and a half hours and so on and so forth, ruining the both of you. And if you cum once, if you make a noise louder than the volume I set the TV, I'll be sure that the both of you regret it going into the New Year." Michael stood back up, his hard on, on full display for both you and Jim, turning on the dining room TV to whatever station they would be broadcasting the dropping of the ball tonight.

"We'll start with Y/N, since she's been somewhat decent tonight." Michael beamed.

And all for a little attention.

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid

[tanakavox]

Look into the mutiverse chapter 4

Thanks again to ExiledDarkness for writing the charcters reaction for this chapter. Please go check out his stuff. And if your wondering where Qrow came from, We forgot to add a scene for Qrow and didn't feel like going back.

This chapter is based of the Youtuber SomecallmeJohnny and his review of Super Mario 64. I had to cut it short because my laptod was acting up again and google docs was acting wonky, parts of the fic getting erased. Rest assure for the Somecallmejohnny fans, I won't just do his reviews. I have plans to do Super gaming bros reaction as well. And for those who don't know Johnny, go check him! Enjoy the reaction.

The screen lights up again and shows Jaune wearing a cap and hoodie and sitting on a bright red couch. He had a bit of stubble on his face and he was currently holding a controller in his hand as he turned on a device known as the N64.

"Oh? Jaune looks good with stubble." Blake comments. Everyone looks at Jaune and then back to the one on the screen. They all nodded in agreement.

"It's a go time! Super Mario 64!" He said in a high pitched voice with a bad accent.

The Jaune on the screen sighed seemingly tired. "Lady and Gents welcome back to the Super Mario marathon, And just like with Ocarina of time, this is a game that haunted me during the N64 lifetime. Jaune looked the the N64 sitting on his dresser and continued. "It was like the console itself was actively mocking me like: "Hey Jauney? How about you ditch that playstation and try me out instead?" The blonde's eyes lit up in anger. "Well I didn't have a job in 1996 you sensitive prick!" Jaune snapped at the console.

Everyone blinked at the sudden anger. Ruby turned towards JNPR and asked, "Are you okay Jaune?"

Jaune, still frozen from the sudden burst of anger from his other self, snaps back to reality and nods at the question. "Yeah, I think I understand what's happening here. But I'll stay quiet until I know for sure."

Jaune turned toward the screen and went on like nothing happened. "Last time I gave Mario attention, I was focused on what made the Italian "Plumber—"" He said with quotation marks. "—the video game icon he is today. Now we're gonna do it again only in 3d."

Jaune turned to his audience and smiled. "You guys ready for another Super Mario marathon?"

"Aha!" Jaune says as he slammed his closed fist on his hand. "This is me doing video games!"

Ren paused at hearing this information. "Then that explains the sudden burst of anger then." Nora and Jaune nod while the rest of the audience looks on confusedly.

RWBY look at each other before Yang hesitantly asks, "So why did he get so angry?"

Jaune laughs before scratching the back of his head. "I like video games but I hate it when I can't progress further into the game. Sometimes I get really into it, I guess."

"Here we go, Super Mario 64, the 64 being figureded to the console and not the 64 game in the series, Mario's first 3d game, and a launch title for the N64. It was highly praised and hailed as the 3d version of what Super Mario bros on the NES did for platemors at the time, Mario 64 did the same. But I came into the 64 train late, So I don't have what you call: Super Mario 64 memories. In fact my first 3d Mario game was the next game we'll be looking at: Super Mario Sunshine on the GameCube. Jaune's expression darkened as he smiled hurmlousy. "But that can wait. Oh it can wait." The tone of his voice was bitter and venomous.

Everyone laughed now knowing the context of Jaune's anger towards video games.

"Alright booting the game up and the first thing you see is Mario's head. You know to really hammer in that this is Mario's first 3d adventure. You can even fuck around with the face a bit but it doesn't really effect the game it's just there for fun.

We're also greeted by Mario's new voice, provided by Charles Margent. Shockingly this isn't his debut as the Jumpman, that was in Mario Fundamental, a Pc game released a year before. Pretty sure no one heard of it before someone did a document on it.

"This idea of a floating Mario head, perhaps more infamously in Mario teaches typing two. A floating deformed head pop on the screen.

"Hey? Are you ready for Mario type?" It asked.

"Mother of God." Jaune deadpan in horror.

"Despite the new voice, Mario doesn't speak much. It's mostly hiyas woohoos throughout the game. And he only speaks a full phase when he completes a goal or he falls asleep on the job. It shows the red clad mario on the ground sleeping.

"Ha spatgai, Ha ravioli." The plumber mutters in his sleep.

Nora drools over the names of food. They sound pretty good right now.

"Charles as Mario is so absorbed into my head I can't imagine anyone else doing the role. It's not like the acting is amazing or anything, he's been voicing Mario for nearly 20 years at this point. If Charles stepped out of the role for any reason, the next guy would just try to simulate Charles' voice.

"It's weird that way," Ren piped up, "No matter what happens people are going to remember the original no matter how much the new one tries to be the old one.

"Hear hear ninja boy" Qrow cheered a bit and took a swig of his beer.

"Okay nearly forgot that I was looking at a video game, Sorry about that. Well let's look at that plot shall we?"

"I'm curious to hear about the kind of story this game might have," Ozpin said as he crosses his legs.

"Boswer kidnaps Princess Peach, Mario must go save her, now that didn't take long now did it?"

Ozpin blinked and sat back in his seat, a bit disappointed.

"I'll let it slide this time since they probably wanted to keep it safe for the first game in 3d. Hell, the menu theme is the main theme for the series."

Qrow snorts. "Fair enough. I guess you can't expect these guys to be that ballsy."

The entire game is set in Peach's castle. Boswer has taken the power star, which I believe gives the castle power? Jaune shrugged. I dunno what they do, it's not really explain and getting more powerstar allows you to get into more levels, and that's the name of the game here. Bowser had set up routine courses in painting.

"The courses tend to varies but nothing here gets too crazy like other Mario games. It's not until late game you go to more odd place like in a clocktower or riding rainbow.

"The game's openness is the first thing you'll take note of in Mario 64. You can start a mission with a hint on what to do,but there is nothing stopping you from just doing a different mission and grabbing the star despite not being the mission you clicked on.

There are a handful of expectations like racing against against Koopa the quick who not gonna show up unless you chose his mission, but most of the time you can go at it on your own pace. Eh, I didn't wanna fight King Bo-mb yet, I want free the chain chomp and get the star there. I could take down King twop, or I could do a well place jump and get this unrelated power star. And that's where a lot of Mario's replay value comes in, not just getting the power star but how you get them.

"Oh, this game sounds fun! I should get it if we ever get out of here." Nora exclaimed.

"With what money Nora?" Jaune asked. Nora looked at Jaune with a wide smile. "No." Jaune deadpan. Nora pouted at his response and turned to Ren with a wide smile.

"No Nora. And do not ask Weiss either." Ren said with his eyes still on the screen and Nora pouted again.

Peach's castle acts as a hub world, the place you're exploring and using to get to other stages to get more power stars. But in order to duke it out with Bowser, you need to get a certain amount of power stars to access the level. As a guy who doesn't care for hub worlds I don't mind Peach's castle. The levels aren't too far apart and there are things you can do in the castle that can help you increase your star count. Like a secret race track that gives you two stars if you're fast enough, or an underwater level that contains an easy to get star. It challenges you in a way that makes it still feel like a Mario game.

"It sounds pretty easy at first glance, but I can understand how annoying it can become if you mess up at least once or twice." Jaune says. Ruby, Nora, and even Ren nod in agreement.

The biggest change to the formula was the jump to 3d, like with Ocarina of Time. He still has to break boxes, stomp on enemies, the works but this game gave the man a few extra moves to go along with the change to 3d. The analog stick is used to move Mario, the further you tilled it the faster he moves, instead of the run button we knew from the past game. Mario still has the jumps he's famous for, but pressing the jump button can allow Mario to reach the heights he's never seen until this game without a power up. He can crouch and crawl but I've only used this a total of once. But you standstill and jump you can do a backflip, and if you crouch and run you can do a long jump which I love using so much and because you can do some real fancy shit with it, and it makes Mario move faster to boot. If you snap the anlong back and jump he can do a somersault and if you jump towards a wall, Mario can wall jump as well.

Nora makes a face at the detailed review. "All these moves and stuff sound annoying. Why can't games be as simple like they are now?!"

Ren sighs and begins to explain but Qrow cuts in. "It's because of games like these were like test models that you get to play the good quality games you have now. I remember playing Soaring Ninja back when he was literally unplayable and useless. Now look at him!"

Ruby and Yang gasp, Soaring Ninja was unplayable?

"I wouldn't be surprised if this move came from the gameboy version of Donkey kong. That remake has a fucklord of levels and a handstand jump for Mario. He still takes damage if he falls too far, so he's just a pale imitation. Jaune had Mario wall jump a wall to prove a point. "The Mario I know could fall from any height and take no dam-" Jaune cut himself off his eyes widening when he heard Mario grunt in pain and his health go down a bit. "WHAT THE FUCK! He took damage from a large height! Mario! What's the meaning of this?" He asked in bewilderment, looking at the floating Mario head from earlier."

"Oh nice computer you have here. Can I have it?" the Mario head asked

"No!" Jaune exclaimed.

Everyone's eyes widened at the scene. Ozpin checked his mug with scrutiny to see if he was still drinking the right drink. Looked normal enough.

"Peach's castle has 120 power stars in the castle, but you only need 70 of them to beat the game." Jaune had a strained smile on his face as he continued. But where the fun in just getting 70 power star and beating the game that way, it not like getting all the star is that time com- for fuck sakes yes it is!"

"Let's just get one thing clear, I fucking depise the 100 coin misson. It's as simple as it sounds, grab 100 coins and then grab the star that appears over your head. Lather rinse repeat, for all 15 courses. In a game that usually has you go to once place and grab the star, collecting these coins brings the game to grueling crawl. Mario 64 doesn't have a checkpoint system. It doesn't bother me much. The levels are usually small and with Mario's new moves getting the Power star is not only comartable, it's also pretty fucking fun. And then their these." That venomous tone from before came back. The screen showcased the blue coins that have appeared throughout most of the video so far.

"Aw it's one of those games! The type that needs you to waste your time actually going through all of what the game has planned for you before you get to the final boss! What a rip off!" Qrow exclaims, tossing his hands in the air. Jaune agrees, crossing his arms and trying not to join in on the rage.

"No amount of looking of cute puppies. can cotain the amount of rage i have when I fuck up these mission with a impeferct jump or when a enemey hits me from behind. It's not always a painful process, but sucks so hard cause the coins are either place so far part or because they're so goddamn scarce! "Gotta kill those enemies before the coins blink away and scatter when they spawn. These blue coins are 5 regular coin a piece but you gotta get them before they blink away and you only got one shot! Was there area I didnt search, an enemy I skipped, I did I fuck up somewhere since I only have 64 coins after look around what feels like for fucking ever?!

"And try not get the last coin in a dangerous area or impossible to backtrack to. The star will always appear right above Mario's head, so make sure it's a safe locati-GODDAMN!"

The star had appeared in a caged area that Mario couldn't reach.

Everyone laughed at the other Jaune's misery. The Arf viewing the screen feels relieved that he himself isn't on the receiving end. Or was he?

"Couldn't just tell the star to come to you Mario?" Jaune asked the Mario head on his computer.

"When a moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, that's amore!" Mario began to sing and Jaune facepalm when he didn't get answered. "When an eel lunges out…

"UNGAI?!" Jaune jumping up. A eel appeared and let out a roar and Jaune wasn't in his chair anymore, It being left spinning by how fast he booked it.

"That's amore!" Mario finished singing and chuckled. Get it? Amore eel? I said funny.

"Fuck you!" Jaune said from somewhere in the house.

All the immature audience members fell out of their seats in laughter while the more mature chuckled at the scene.

At the end of the day, I really shouldn't be going for all the Power star, and that's more of a technical issue, but I'm gonna bitch anyway. But despite the age, this game is still a treat to play even today. This has been Somecallmejohnny, and you guys have a Good Day.

Nora stretches and yawns. "Well, that was a nice one. Funny too! I wonder what's next?"

The end

[seasonofthegeek]

Not All Prisons Have Bars: Witch

Written for @marichatmay 2020

Just something that came to me with all the virus stuff going around. Decided to try to work out some of my frustrations by writing a story in a different flavor of the same idea. This will be one of those where the details unfold more as the story goes on. :)

Part 1:

Marinette wasn’t sure why she’d been expecting a completely white room that screamed sterilization but the cozy suite she’d been led to looked more like it’d fit into any mid-level hotel and that surprised her. 

The bed was large and covered in a soft flower-patterned quilt. Lamps glowed around the room instead of a harsh overhead light, and she spied a a small private bathroom beside an empty closet. There was a decent television and a computer which was a nice bonus. The large heart monitor in the corner by an overstuffed armchair seemed a bit out of place, but otherwise, the room was nothing like she’d imagined. 

“Feel free to unpack and get comfortable. A nurse will be by to do a vitals check in an hour or so and then it will be time for dinner.” The orderly gave her a smile that seemed a little too professional to be genuine and then closed the door.

Marinette counted to ten in her head and then tried to turn the doorknob. The latch gave and the door opened slightly as she pulled. She let out a sigh of relief as it closed again and turned to give her new home a more thorough inspection. 

Her mind wandered as she made her way around the room. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if she’d been locked in. Nothing, she supposed. She’d come here of her own free will, after all.

When she found out she was one of only three people discovered whose blood carried antibodies that could be used to fight the current virus ravaging the world, what choice did she really have but to agree to help? She’d never consider herself a hero, but she was a decent person, at least. She wanted to do what she could even if coming here had turned her life on its head. 

She squinted at the buttons on the heart monitor but besides the obvious ones, she was at a loss. She wondered if she’d have to wear something constantly since the big machine was in her room. 

There were times like this when Marinette thought she might wake up from a weird dream at any moment. It felt like one day, everything was as normal as it’d always been and then the next...

She shook her head. She didn’t like thinking about the virus but there would be no avoiding it now. She’d packed a bag and moved in right at the epicenter. She may as well try to accept her new normal.

___

Marinette tried her hardest not to fiddle with the heart monitor around her wrist as she sat at the dinner table in the mostly empty dining room. A woman sat on her left down a few chairs and a young boy sat directly across from her, studying her with curious eyes magnified by large glasses. 

“Are you here to beat the witch too?” he finally asked. The way he drawled out his words even in his rushed question had her wondering where in the world he was from. Somewhere in the United States, she would guess from the English. They were both far from home then. She was glad she at least understood him.

“The witch?”

He nodded seriously. “My best friend, Peter, well, his mom says there is the real mean witch out somewhere and she made all these black cats out of bad magic that ran all over the world to get people sick. And there are only a few people in the world who have magic blood that can make the cats better and beat the witch and I have magic blood so I’m going to beat the witch.” He warily glanced down the table at the other woman and lowered his voice. “So do you have magic blood too?”

Marinette wasn’t sure if it was cute or disturbing that someone had explained the pandemic to the child in such a way but he seemed happy about it and she  didn’t want to scare him.

“I think I might,” she said, dropping her volume to a conspiratorial whisper to match his. “It��s pretty cool, right?”

“Yeah! My room has the new PlayStation. I don’t even have one of those at home. My brother is going to be so jealous.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms smugly. He opened his mouth again but he was interrupted by an orderly dressed in crisp blue scrubs placing a plate in front of him. 

“Please make sure to eat everything on your plate. A clean plate is a happy plate and we like to see happy plates,” the woman said as she put the next plate in front of Marinette. 

The young boy scrunched his nose and poked at the steamed broccoli with his fork. “I’m not eating this.”

“Even if it makes your magic stronger?” Marinette asked, spearing a floret.

He frowned and followed her lead. “Being a hero is hard work.”

___

On the other side of the facility and three floors below what was thought to be the basement, Chat Noir paced the small cell he was in. His stomach was growling and his head ached so he knew dinner had to be coming soon. That was how he’d been trying to keep track of time. He was fed breakfast and dinner. Lunch was always a fun combination of being mostly drained of blood and filled with some new mixture of chemicals that usually left him jittery or sleepy or both. 

His black ears perked at the sound of the hallway door being opened and he obediently went to sit on his bed with his hands spread out in front of him as he’d done ever since he realized it was expected. His fluffy black tail lashed back and forth against the blanket but he rarely could control what the thing did anyway. 

The vision bar slid open and Chat Noir saw a familiar set of kind gray eyes look in on him through the protective glass. “Hungry?” a voice asked through an intercom. 

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

There was a grunting chuckle and a few digital beeps and then the door was opening. The hulking man on the other side moved into the door frame with a tray in one of his massive hands and a cattle prod in the other. He sheepishly dropped the arm with the prod with a shrug and slid the tray onto the table. 

“It’s okay,” Chat Noir said with half a smile. “I get it.”

“Not worried,” the man replied, voice muffled by his mask. “You’re a good kid.”

“Not really a kid.”

“Still good.” The big man shrugged again and half-glanced behind him. “Extra protein bar.” He winked and then began to back up.

Chat Noir could see two other orderlies behind him, electric prods raised tensely. He ignored them. “Thanks,I  appreciate it, Pierce.”

Pierce gave him another grunt and then the door was closing again. 

He waited until he couldn’t make out any other sounds and then he went to the table and forced himself to eat the meal slowly. He found he stayed full faster when he did, but it was a hard lesson to learn. 

He hid the extra protein bar between two of the books on his table for later. He never noticed his books moved when he slept so they always seemed like a safe enough place to keep things.  

After he finished his meal, he went to the opposite wall and used his pointed claw to scratch another notch into the blindingly white painted surface. He looked up the long line of scratch marks but didn’t bother trying to tally them. 

It didn’t really matter how long he’d been kept in this room. 

He never planned on ever leaving. 

Buy me a cherry coke?

[notbang]

an art or a science

A scene’s worth of deviation from 3x03 - aka AU where Rebecca doesn’t stand Nathaniel up, and Nathaniel takes something Rebecca said in 3x02 to heart.

read on AO3

“Well, we’re here. Are you happy now? Nobody’s blowing anybody off, fly or otherwise. I’ll go up, I’ll sample his spaghetti sauce, and we’ll call it a day.”

Rebecca shuts off the ignition, feeling oddly defensive. It’s only eight thirteen—barely pushing the limits of her track record with punctuality, really.

All she gets is a grunt in return, followed by a snide, “That doesn’t sound very appeasing if you ask me.”

“Maybe if you had a better appreciation of figurative language, it would.” Caving under the glare she receives, she rolls her eyes and concedes. “Fine. We go in, we go out, we maybe engage in some heavy petting in lieu of dessert. I’m talking strictly hand stuff only. One hour, tops.” She casts a glance towards the unimpressed preteen currently sinking down, cross-armed in the passenger seat and purses her lips. “Forget I said any of that. Cover your ears. Wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Why am I the one getting her mouth washed out?”

Rebecca sighs, throwing her hands up as she tips her head back against the seat in thinly veiled exasperation. “I don’t know—because then you’ll be too busy pulling funny faces and gagging at the gross taste to repeat any of what you just heard. Now, can I leave you in here unattended? Do I need to crack a window?”

“You seriously think locking me in the car is going to keep your anxiety at bay?”

“Well, I figure in the very least it’ll give me some kind of a head start. Can’t hurt a girl to try, right?”

Reaching into the back seat to retrieve the haphazardly folded shirt she’d tossed in there on the drive over, Rebecca gives herself a quick once-over in the rearview before reluctantly making her way towards the lobby of Nathaniel’s building.

It takes him longer to answer her knock than she’s expecting, and in the extra stretch of seconds she nearly convinces herself she’s waited long enough to justify leaving. Before she can redirect her inexplicable nervous energy from fidgeting into fleeing, though, the door swings open to reveal Nathaniel, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, and despite having seen him naked only a few nights before she finds herself strangely captivated by this new business-casual bare expanse of exposed forearms.

“Rebecca,” he says, and she thinks it sounds like he’s sighing it in relief, almost. Like he hadn’t expected her to show.

“Hi. I, uh… this is yours.” She fingers one of the gunmetal buttons on his dress shirt before thrusting it it towards him.

“Oh. Thank you.”

His gaze flits up from the white bundle in his hands to sashay up the length of her, and she can see it written across his features that he’s remembering what it looked like wrapped around her instead.

Neck flushing hot, she hikes her purse further up onto her shoulder and clears her throat. “Look, Nathaniel. The other night was fun, and I appreciate you helping me out, but I’ve got a lot going on right now, and I just really think we should avoid making this into something it’s—sorry, what is all this?”

It occurs to her, somewhat belatedly, that his previously tending-towards-Spartan apartment is suddenly overrun with what appears to be stacks of shipping crates. Beyond the rows of boxes, in front of his black leather sofa, she can just make out a small wooden table that wasn’t there before either, unmistakably candlelit and set for two.

Nathaniel examines his nail beds, exuding exaggerated nonchalance. “Hm? Oh, these? Video games.”

Tearing her gaze away from the surprisingly feminine floral centrepiece—did he pick that out himself? she wonders—she blinks at him, still in need of further elucidation. “Video games,” she repeats.

“Mm-hmm.”

“You—Productivity Plimpton the third—play video games,” she says, dubiously, before narrowing her eyes into a suspicious squint. “Do you even own a TV?”

He tilts his head, his expression both guarded and curious, as if confused by her own confusion. “They’re not for me,” he says slowly.

While some spiralling-out-of-control part of her is still desperate to say her piece and leave, she’s nothing if not easily distracted; if Nathaniel’s being deliberately obtuse she’s willingly falling for it, hook, line and frustrated sinker.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What, then? You doing all your company Christmas shopping in one hit? I’ll just stick to a good old fashioned bonus, but thanks anyway, I guess?”

Nathaniel barks out a mocking laugh. “I’m not sure what exactly about disappearing for two weeks of unapproved leave preceded by what was already months of questionable workplace attendance makes you think you’re eligible for a bonus of any description, but no.”

“Uh, maybe the tens of thousands of dollars that I make for the firm every month with my eyes closed,” she lobbies back, making sure to tack on a performative eye-roll for good measure.

“Hmm. Which might be commendable, were it not for the strictly eyes-open policy I had put in place upon my arrival.”

It’s shifting dangerously close to too-familiar territory, their barbed back and forth, and in a desperate effort to reclaim some unspoken upper ground she’s in the middle of rehashing her potential excuses with which to blow him off when he continues on, unprompted.

“I called in a favour with an old law school buddy of mine who convinced a client of his to file a lawsuit against the studio of Josh’s favourite franchise, Sins of the Fleshless, for copyright infringement. The servers for the online multiplayer have been suspended and the upcoming release of the next instalment is indefinitely delayed.”

Hearing Josh’s name sends an involuntary jerk through her, incomprehension creeping with dread. “I don’t understand,” she says.

“Zomber Stomper II: the Quick and the Dead proved more of a challenge, since it’s already hit the shelves, but I was able to pull some strings and secure every physical copy on the West Coast. George should be finishing up at a Buy More in Burbank as we speak.”

It’s his tone, more than anything, that eventually sparks recognition—taking her back to being sprawled out alongside him in his bed, in the very shirt she’d just returned to him, legs tangled together as he recounted their villainous exploits for her with a seductive drawl.

She raises her eyebrows, finally catching on and, frankly, caught more than a little off-guard. “Wow. That’s…”

“Evil?” he offers, stuffing his hands into his pockets and leaning back to perch on the arm of his couch.

“Yeah,” she says with a surprised laugh. “Yeah, kinda.”

It is the perfect crime, in a way—sure, it doesn’t humiliate Josh or force him to reckon with the ways he’s wronged her, but it’s deliciously petty whilst being simultaneously harmless and doesn’t make her feel how she felt watching Josh’s friends turn on him in the face of her lies. Doesn’t make her feel like an infectious black disease, swallowing and rotting everything she touches.

“Why, though? You already held up your end of the deal. I wasn’t expecting…”

For a brief moment, something flinches across his face, so quick she almost doesn’t catch it. As it is, she doesn’t want to interrogate what it might mean. Doesn’t have it in her. Not now.

Nathaniel nods. “Because you were right.”

“I was? About what?”

“I think we can both agree that my original plan was… excessive,” he decides on, suddenly intent on picking at some invisible lint on his slacks. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, and I got carried away.”

Her voice goes soft and small, heady with the memory of his words at the masquerade. “Because you were busy thinking about me?”

“I thought that much was obvious. I was trying to… impress you, I suppose?” he admits with obvious chagrin. He clears his throat. “But you didn’t like my plan, so I regrouped, and went with yours.”

“Oh,” she says, for lack of anything else, and lets them sit with that for a second before she goes on to ask, “What are you going to do with all this stuff?”

He shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “I’m certainly open to suggestions.”

She thinks back to the aftermath of Jayma’s wedding, of Josh sleeping on her couch and eating her food and playing Playstation and giving her nothing, just like their wedding day, and it helps her turn her anger at him back into something tangible and real.

“Can I break one?” she blurts out after a moment. Off Nathaniel’s confused look she elaborates, “I’ve kind of just always wanted to take one of those shiny discs and like… snap ‘em right in half, y’know?”

Wryness twisting at his mouth, he makes a be my guest gesture towards the closest pile.

Unearthing a case from the nest of shredded cardboard, she traces her fingernails along the seam of the shrink plastic seal until they snag and rip, giving way with a gratifying tear. It takes more force than expected to pop open, setting the disc loose at the same time when it finally gives way, for a split second worrying her that she’s scratched it. The irony of her concern catches up with her as she slides it out, setting the case back down on top of the others.

DEAD END is emblazoned across the front in a dripping, slimy font.

All too aware of Nathaniel’s gaze on her, she winces as she applies pressure to the edges, sucking in a breath when it succumbs, yielding to the torsion with a fulfilling crack.

“Oh,” she says, quietly. “That felt good. Satisfying, even.”

She doesn’t think she’s imagining it, the way Nathaniel’s eyes soften, and the corners of his mouth uptick the tiniest, most tentative amount.

Despite the absurdity inherently obvious to her even as she’s doing it, she carefully places the two pieces back inside the case, upside down, so she can regard the obfuscation of her reflection in the shards.

“Want to do it again?” Nathaniel offers. “I think I have some spares.”

A laugh bursts out of her at that, too loud and too hollow. She swallows it back inside, worried that if she lets too much of what she’s feeling out unchecked she won’t be able to stop herself unravelling with it as it goes.

She wishes all the discs could fuse together to create one giant disc that she could hack at with the rugged blade of her emotions—to shatter it into the million shards she feels like she’s currently comprised of. Wishes she could set them all on fire and watch her mirror image burn.

Instead, she squeezes an arm around herself and swallows, feeling suddenly faint. “You did all this knowing Josh was at a convent? Where he probably doesn’t even have wifi, let alone access to an Xbox?”

“Actually, Josh’s preferred platform is Playstation,” Nathaniel says, lips twitching; oblivious, smug. “I did my research. And he’s back in town, right? As of today? I assumed you knew.”

Rebecca stiffens. Of course she knew that—but how did Nathaniel know that? And how much research, exactly, had he done? Did he know everything?

“I put a Google alert on Josh’s social media accounts,” he explains, ignorant to her alarm. “He tweeted someone named smootharmedsurfer89 on the drive home, telling him to make sure his controller was charged. I’ll have you know, I’m very thorough.” He pauses to look her in the eye, voice dripping with deliberation when he adds, “Besides, I’m always more than prepared to play the long con if need be.”

His words curl around her, warm and wanting, and she has to bite her tongue against assuring him she knows exactly just how thorough he can be.

It had been fun, playing secret mission with him, or as fun as she was currently capable of having, all things considered. She’s been preoccupied all week, but now her skin hums with the memory of a very specific kind of preoccupation, so difficult to push away standing in the middle of an apartment that’s so distractingly bed.

The scent of something garlic and tomato-y wafts out from the kitchen, then, and her stomach gurgles its approval, the sound loud and unflattering in the small space. Too agitated to be appropriately mortified, she presses an absent palm against her belly, dully registering hunger below the gaping chasm of panic that’s been ripping steadily open inside of her since she confronted Josh at the church. She realises she can’t remember the last time she ate.

Nathaniel must hear it because he rushes to pull a chair back for her at the table, suavity suddenly all but gone, his movements uncharacteristically clumsy and embarrassingly eager to the point it reminds her of herself so much it hurts, almost, to look at him.

In spite of herself, she’s seconds away from giving in when her phone chirrups and vibrates in her hand, and the warm, glowy feeling that had been creeping over her vanishes, leaving a renewed spike of panic in its wake.

“I’m sorry,” she says, scrunching her eyes shut against the onslaught of accompanying nausea. “I have to go.”

“But you just got here,” he protests, frowning. “Dinner’s almost—”

She’s already backing away, forgetting about the boxes lining the entranceway and toppling a stack of them, upending the cases on the floor. One of them crunches under her heel, clear plastic cracking, and she grabs onto the wall to right herself when she wobbles, waving her phone at him as if to ward him away when he steps forward to help her. “Shit. Sorry. I’m so sorry. I just… I just remembered I kind of left a small child in my car, and there’s this message from Paula, and I can’t do this now, and I just have to go. I really do. Dinner smells amazing and you are being… disconcertingly nice to me? And… I’ll call you, text you, shoot you an email, or something, because I have to—I have to go.”

Fumbling with the lock, she doesn’t even spare a glance for her younger self, sent tumbling backwards from her precarious position, skulking outside with an ear pressed to the door. Ignoring Nathaniel’s confused attempts to call her back she takes the stairs two at a time, already unsteady on her feet and nearly breaking her neck several times in the process.

She texts Paula from the car.

Any updates on the case? Asking for an over-invested friend.

She frowns at the reflection of Nathaniel’s apartment building in the rearview as she pulls away.

[multi-purpose-tool-guy]

Ooh ooh Kylux and 18. Pretty please.

Okay so this one definitely got away with me, it’s 3.5k and somehow wandered into kidfic benarmie territory? I hope that’s alright, the idea bit me (or should I say stung me? ;) ) and I couldnt let it go!! 

also this is a modern au and they reference star wars, but Han’s name is still Han so um, ~~~magical realm where both exist~~~

warnings for winnie the pooh references and abusing the italics function.

18. “This is by far the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

Crash Bandicoot is squashed flat under a huge digital boulder for the third time in a row, the screen of his little boxy tv flashing an obnoxious yellow GAME OVER. Ben groans and tosses his Playstation controller into the empty beanbag chair opposite the one he’s sinking into. He’s been working on this level for two whole days now and it’s way too hard, and that boulder is stupid. He’s halfway standing and contemplating walking over to Rey’s house and making her play knights with him when he hears something tap sharply against his window.

It taps two more times before he can un-fuse from the beanbag chair, so hard it’s rattling the glass. When it taps a fourth time and he peers down into his backyard he scowls, hoping his annoyance is clear through the glass. Hux is throwing rocks at his window from across the fence that divides their backyards, which is fine, except he’s using his fancy slingshot his dad got him for Christmas last year and Ben has told him a million times not to. The last time he knocked a pebble-sized hole in the glass Ben had told his mom that a woodpecker flew over and thought his science project sitting on his desk was a real tree (because he’d done such a good job painting it, with hardly any help at all) and pecked through his window to get to it, and he’s pretty sure she won’t believe him if he tells her it happened again.

He wrenches the window open angrily and snaps out, “What?” He’s about to yell at him about the slingshot again but he stops short when Hux stares up at him with his face all screwed up and splotchy red.

“Ben!” He shouts up at him, high-pitched and almost whining; A very bad sign, Hux never whines. “Millie got out!”

Ben freezes. This is bad. This is really bad. He’s pretty sure Hux loves that cat more than he loves his parents, and Ben’s iguana is super cool and all and his parents are kinda lame, but, dang. Ben knows that Millie is strictly an inside cat (he’s been yelled at to keep the doors closed when he goes over enough times, that’s for sure), and if she got out then that means Hux is about five minutes away from a meltdown, maybe even less.

“Where’d she go?” He shouts down to Hux, straight to business. He’d only seen Hux get this worked up once before, when a girl in their class pushed him on the playground and said nasty things about his orange hair. He was really upset, grabbing handfuls of dirt and squeezing it tight, but she came back from recess to a dead frog in her lunchbox and had to go home early, she was crying so much. Nobody in all of fourth grade wanted to sit next to him after that, except for Ben, who begged Miss Sloane to let him move seats and sit closer to him. When Ben got home later that day he told his parents very firmly that orange was his new favorite color.

Hux just purses his lips and points up at the tree that sits right up against Ben’s fence and hangs over both yards, where his treehouse sits high up and exactly halfway over each yard.

Oh crap.

Ben turns from the window and snags a grey hoodie from the corner of his desk chair, stepping into his chucks and not stopping to tie them as he bolts down the stairs.

–

They’re standing shoulder to shoulder in Ben’s yard, looking up at Millie’s huddled fluff through the leaves and Hux squirming at his side, wringing his hands. He told Ben that his father’s stupid new girlfriend left the door open to bring groceries in from the car and she’d run out into the yard, and straight up the tree. It was their tree, because it held up their clubhouse, built by Ben and his dad but painted and ‘supervised’ by Hux. The wood was spray-painted a shiny silver and the words Starkiller Base were hand painted in big black letters that were only a little wobbly.

It would be easy to just climb up and coax her down, maybe have Hux hold out a blanket and catch her, if not for the humongous hornet’s nest that she’d somehow crawled behind. It had been up there for almost a month, his dad kept promising to go knock it down but never getting around to it, and he and Hux had to meet up in a popup tent in Hux’s backyard in the meantime. It’s a cool tent, but it’s just not the same.

“She’s going to get stung Ben, they’re going to sting her, what if she’s allergic?” Hux sounds like a strange mix of frantic and angry, looking anxiously between the buzzing nest and Millie, hunched small and mewling miserably.

“They won’t sting her unless she’s dumb and messes with them or something,” Ben says, trying to think of a way to fix this that has Hux thanking him and not whichever parent they end up having to call to come help them. His mom warned him about playing out here while that thing was still up there, but he thinks Hux is definitely worth getting grounded over. “Also I don’t think cats can have allergies.”

Hux snaps his head to snarl at him. “Millie is not dumb, she’s perfect, and cats can too have allergies, my nan’s cat Ziggy is allergic to dry food.” The end of his sentence lilts like he’s enlightening Ben in some fact that Hux only knows because he’s smarter than him, and Ben hates when he talks like that.

“He’s not allergic, he’s just a spoiled brat, like some other cat I know.” He bites back. He knows Hux is upset and snappy right now but Ben is not dumber than some stupid cat. Even if it’s Millie.

“Take that back right no-” Hux cuts himself off with a gasp as Millie takes a shaky step forward and stumbles, clinging lower and tighter to the branch where she’s perched. The nest sits between her and the trunk of the tree, the branch thin and flimsy underneath her.

Hux is letting out a high-pitched sound that Ben knows from experience comes right before the tears start, and it’s like Ben’s not even there anymore, angry retort forgotten and replaced with loud, blaring fear. Ben looks up at Millie, ears pushed back and tail fluffed up like a toilet brush, and sighs. He knows what he has to do, and even though it sucks he knows that a few hornet stings will be worth it if it makes Hux dry his tears, maybe even smile, just for him.

Ben’s gonna be his hero, and Hux better appreciate his bravery and awesome tree-climbing skills.

“I have an idea.”

Hux whips his head around to look at him fiercely. “What is it?”

“I saw it in a cartoon once, it’s gonna sound dumb but hear me out okay?” The look on Hux’s face is anything but encouraging, but Ben continues. “So basically, oh. Wait,” He stops, looking around the yard, before dashing inside through the sliding glass door. He comes back out moments later to Hux’s confused and screwed-up face clutching a throw pillow from the couch and his Darth Vader umbrella.  

“Okay. So. You’re gonna take this,” He thrusts the buttoned-up umbrella into Hux’s hands, “and you’re gonna walk around the tree and say ‘tut tut, looks like rain!’”

Hux stares at him, hands wrapped around the umbrella. “Why.” He says it more like a statement than a question.

“Because then the hornets won’t be suspicious of a raincloud creeping up on them.” Ben says, hoping for Hux to catch on and stop looking at him like he’s crazy.

No such luck. “There are no rainclouds out right now, where’s this cloud exactly?”

Ben grins, gives Hux a wink, and shoves the couch cushion up under his hoodie, making him look bulky and hopefully cloud-shaped.

Hux stares at him. “That’s stupid.” Ben tries not to wilt.

“It’s not stupid, and it mostly worked in the cartoon so, like, it’s worth a shot-” 

Hux cuts him off. “It didn’t even work in the cartoon, if you’ll remember, and those were bees, not whatever those are, so it’s double-not-going-to-work.” Hux concludes, prim and snotty. “Triple-not-going-to-work, actually, because that’s a cartoon and this is real life. Obviously.”

“Are you in or what?” He snaps. “It’s not like we have any better ideas, and I can climb up and grab her before they even know I’m not a cloud-” He’s interrupted by angry tutting from Hux, who turns and looks up at Millie for a long moment before speaking.

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had,” His face softens when Millie cries louder down at them, before pinching up again. “Of course I’m in.”

Ben fist-pumps in victory silently behind Hux’s back and slowly makes his way to the base of the tree.

“You’ve got the easy job, and look, you’re already in costume.” He gestures to Hux’s shiny yellow rainboots, squeaking in the grass.

“Just shut up and climb the tree. Clouds can’t talk, you have to be believable.” Hux sneers, opening the umbrella. The weak sunlight makes his face glow an eerie red through the vinyl.

Ben takes a deep breath, and with one last look over his shoulder to check that his mom’s not in the kitchen, clambers up the little rope ladder.

The buzzing is a lot louder up here, and he has to force his limbs to move once he reaches the clubhouse. Suddenly he’d much rather stay inside the crooked wooden walls where it’s safe, but he’s got to be brave. If not for himself he’s got to be brave for Hux, who’s standing under the umbrella and looking up at him like he’s about to throw up on his shoes, sick with worry. He knows it’s for Millie but telling himself a little bit of it is for him gives him the strength to keep climbing.

He hooks a foot on the windowsill of the treehouse and hoists himself shakily onto the roof, the bulk under his sweater squishing beneath him. The buzzing is even louder, like the hornets are bouncing around angrily inside his head, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“I’m just a little black raincloud… pay no attention… to me…” He mutters as he crawls further, the nest dead ahead and menacing and Millie just behind it. He steps off the roof and onto a branch just underneath the one the nest dangles from, so that he’s about chest-level with it.

He takes a shaky step, arms outstretched and just shy of Millicent, when a thin branch snaps under his foot, jostling the whole section of tree. The buzzing crescendos and two or three angry little scouts fly out and dart around his face, staring him down.

“Hux!” He hisses as loud as he dares. “Say it!”

“This is stupid, we should just go get your dad-”

“Say it!” He pleads, squeezing his eyes shut when one of them lands on his nose to investigate.

He hears Hux sigh dramatically below him before finally an overdramatic, “Tut tut, looks like rain!”

He can hear Hux’s boots squelching in the mud and slowly opens his eyes when he feels the little investigator fly away, fooled by his very clever disguise. They seem to have flown back into their hive and he breaths out heavy, inching along further on his mission.

“Tut tut, looks like dumb rain,” Hux says again, and even with that dig at him it spurs him on. The hornets seem to be satisfied, and he just might kiss Hux if this works. Only we won’t, kissing is weird, and Hux probably wouldn’t want to kiss him anyway, that was dumb, nevermind, if this works he’ll, heck, maybe, do a backflip or something. Rey tought him how and then Hux would be even more impressed. 

A few more tiny steps and Millie is within reach, shaking and mewling louder when she recognizes him. Slowly and very gently he scoops her into his arms, inching back down the branch the way he came and already tasting victory; she’s tucked in one arm and holding onto the shoulder of his jacket for dear life, and he’s glad to have the padding protecting him from her claws. He hears Hux gasp in relief from the ground.

After what seems like an agonizingly long time he’s scooted past the nest undetected, and he climbs carefully back up onto the roof of the clubhouse. In relative safety, he lays on his stomach and carefully lowers Millie in through the window, where she’ll be safe until Ben can climb down. With a sigh of relief he stands, turns, makes to climb down himself.

When he takes a step forward the metal sheeting they used for the roof shifts, his foot sliding underneath him, and it yanks him off balance. The squeal of the metal must have tipped off the hornets and they zoom angrily out of the nest, flying around his face and ready to attack the suddenly person-shaped cloud intruding on their kingdom. He’s swatting frantically at them with a shout and loses his footing, falling backwards. All of his weight slams into the loose roof panel and with a scraping crash of metal he’s falling straight through and landing hard on the floor of the treehouse.

“Ben!” He hears Hux shout vaguely, shaking his head and groaning as seemingly all of his bones feel snapped in half. He landed hard on his back, the pillow underneath his hoodie doing nothing to cushion his fall. Some great idea that was.

He tries to push himself up on his hands and a scream is ripped from him, his right arm screaming right back at him in pain and feeling like Darth Vader himself has just sliced it off.

“Get my dad!” He shouts at the ceiling, now with a Ben-shaped hole busted through it. “Hux, go get my dad!”

Millie comes over from the corner she’d been huddled in and licks gently at his cheek, where his face is damp with tears he did not give his body permission to squeeze out. He doesn’t want Hux to see him cry, he wants to look tough and strong, but it freaking hurts.  He hears his dad’s gruff voice shouting for him so Hux must have heard him, and he just hopes he doesn’t end up getting grounded on top of having to get his arm amputated. Maybe they’ll at least let him get a cool robot arm, but cooler than Luke’s.

Before he can decide what color he wants his new arm to be his dad’s face is filling up the treehouse doorway, pinched up and angry.

“Kid I’ve told you not to play out here until I knock that thing down, what were you doing on the roof? You know that shit’s not nailed down, I’ll get to it but. Jesus,” He crawls in towards him when he catches sight of Ben’s arm, bent in an unnatural direction and now starting to throb and hurt very much seriously this hurts so much–

He hears Hux speaking frantically from outside and his dad snaps back at him, gingerly inspecting Ben’s arm. “Calm down Red, yes, there’s a cat in here, she’s fine.”

Seeing her exit route Millie bolts past Han and pauses briefly before leaping down, probably into Hux’s arms. Good. He did it, he rescued Millie, and now Hux will probably smile at him every day from now on and save a seat for him at the lunch table. He drops his head back against the hard wood floor, closing his eyes with a dreamy grin. Maybe he’ll let me hold his hand…

Suddenly his arm doesn’t hurt so much anymore, and all the excitement and heroic adrenaline is leaving him and he’s mostly just sleepy, a little bit hungry. He doesn’t protest as his dad gently carries him down and out of the clubhouse, and he can hear Hux still sounding worried.

He’s got Millie back now, so he’s not sure what Hux is upset about.

–

After three excruciatingly long and boring hours at the hospital Ben walks out into the waiting room with a clunky red cast on his uncool and still-boringly-human arm. He’s sulky, dreading all the crap he’s gonna get from his teacher having to scribble his homework with his left hand, and he stops in his tracks when he sees that his dad is not alone sitting out there waiting for him.

Hux is sitting in the next chair over, absurdly clutching Millicent to his chest like she could bolt at any moment. She really could, and Ben can’t help but snort a laugh at the sight of a cat in a hospital waiting room. Why hadn’t they at least dropped Millie off at Hux’s house first? Why was Hux even here? He might be a little loopy from whatever medicine made his arm feel floaty and not painful at all, but Hux didn’t have to know that, so he kept his mouth shut. 

He looks irritated as it is, or maybe– worried? And his eyes are red and puffy, like he’d been–

“There you are, finally,” Hux sniped, which was totally at odds with how fast he stood up in his chair when he noticed Ben was back.

“Yeah, this thing took forever to dry.” Ben says lamely, trying not to smile at the worried crease in Hux’s brow that he can’t fake with mean words. He was worried sick about Ben, if he was okay, had even cried over him it looks like. It feels awesome. “Broken in two places, the nurse said, but it didn’t even hurt.”

Hux leveled him with a look, Millie squirming in his arms and making him want to laugh again. “You were crying for your daddy before you even hit the floor.”

“I was not,” He ground out, angry and even more so when he realized he couldn’t ball his right hand into a fist, just had to stand there with it in a weird angle and not looking intimidating at all.

“Hey hey, can it you two. Let’s get out of here before your mother freaks out and tans my hide.” Han stands and stretches his back, throwing down the magazine he’d been flicking through way too fast to be actually reading it.

Ben really isn’t looking forward to the screaming match that will explode the second his mom sees his arm, but maybe they’ll let him go lay down if he plays up how much it hurts.

“Whatever,” He mutters, adjusting his arm. “Is Millie okay?”

Hux sniffs and pulls his eyes away from where they were lingering on the bright red fiberglass. “She was terrified, but,” He holds her close and meets his eyes, sneering veneer gone and only honest gratitude and some other warm feeling left in their watery blue. “Thank you, for. You know. Falling out of a tree for her.”

Ben grins. “I didn’t fall out of the tree, only most of the way down.” Hux gives him a look but he’s smiling now, too, and they stand there in a charged silence, scuffing their feet.

Han coughs from the doorway, jerking his head towards the parking lot.

“Wait,” Hux says, turning to him. “Mister Solo, do you have a marker I could borrow?”

Han rolls his eyes and digs around in the pockets of his banged up leather jacket, producing an equally banged up looking black sharpie. Ben doesn’t even try to hold in his laughter when, all business-like, Hux walks over to Han and takes the marker, handing Millie over into his dad’s arms (and ignoring his protests) before turning around and marching back over to him.

“I better sign it first, before everyone at school clogs it up with nonsense.” Hux squeaks off the cap of the marker and delicately wedges it on the top end before lightly grabbing hold of Ben’s cast and scribbling on it, quick and efficient.

Ben watches him in stunned silence, hoping his face isn’t as hot as it feels when Hux pulls away and squeaks the cap back on, revealing the words ‘tut tut’ in Hux’s pretty handwriting and a little drawing of a raincloud.

He looks up at him, trying to think of words to say that all his feelings can fit inside, and they all tumble out his ears when Hux leans in rabbit-quick and gives him a soft, warm peck on the cheek. He turns away before Ben can say anything, if he even knew what to say to maybe someday get him to do it again, but he can see that Hux is blushing red all the way down his neck as he walks out fast after his dad.

If his own face wasn’t hot yet it certainly is now, and his cheeks are starting to hurt with how hard he’s smiling as he trots along after him, out into the parking lot.

He looks down at the stiff red cast on his arm and thinks, with Hux’s addition, he wouldn’t trade it even for the coolest robot arm in the whole world.

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