#Thomas Lasky x Chyler Silva

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

For these, 3 for Fred/Kelly and 14 for Tom/Chyler!

After all the complaining I have done about needing prompts, I somehow accidentally left this languishing in my drafts folder for weeks now. Embarrassing.

Thank you so much for giving me a prompt! I have REALLY been needing some, and these were very fun to write. If anyone is interested in seeing me write any more of these, throw me an ask!

Here goes!

3. "You're an angel, you really are." ... Fred/Kelly

"Are you an angel?"

Kelly's eyebrows lifted curiously. She had been asked a lot of stupid questions in her life, but that was certainly a first. "No," she answered firmly. "Now shut up and go to sleep."

"You look like an angel."

He was being persistent tonight. Stubborn. He clearly wasn't going to let this go without a fight. Unfortunately for him, she was in much better fighting shape than he was.

"Well I'm not. Sleep."

He pouted at her. He looked absolutely ridiculous with his superhumanly muscled six-foot-something stature, scarred face, and infuriatingly handsome features twisted into an almost adorable, childish scowl. She didn't know whether to laugh at him or kiss him.

Before she could make up her mind, his expression changed into a grin.

"Make me," he said, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Kelly groaned and ran a hand through her hair. "You are a grown man," she countered. "You have a cracked collarbone and three broken ribs and are on enough pain killers to send a horse on to meet its maker. The ship surgeon ordered you to sleep, and the only reason I'm even here is to make sure you do it."

She leaned over to glower down at him. She absent-mindedly noted that she was close enough to kiss him, if she really wanted to. But she didn't. That's what she told herself, anyway. "That's exactly what I'm going to do," she continued, trying to distract herself. "So shut up, and go to sleep."

She half-expected him to pout again. At least to glare at her. Instead, he just grinned dopily. His eyes were fixed on her lips as she spoke, his pupils dilated so far she could hardly even see his green irises.

"You're an angel. You really are," he said, his voice dazed and happy.

Staff Sergeant Shaddock sighed again. "Fine, I'm an angel," she conceded, the ghost of a smile turning up the corners of her lips in spite of herself. "And you are ridiculous. Now..."

"I know, I know," he cut her off, waving his hand dismissively at her. "Shutting up and going to sleep, Ma'am," he said, tossing her a mock salute as he delivered the playful sobriquette. He turned onto his side and hummed contentedly, the pain killers making him relaxed. More relaxed than she had ever seen him in the years that they had known each other, she realized with a dull ache in her chest.

"Good night, Angel," he yawned as his eyes fluttered shut.

With his eyes closed so he couldn't see it, Kelly's lips turned up in a full-blown smile. "Good night, Fred," she whispered, and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

14. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here." ... Tom/Chyler

She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Her chest heaved as she tried unsuccessfully to get air in her lungs, but there was no relief for the ache she felt deep within. She tried to call out. Tried to warn the cadets around her of the things that were coming for them.

They couldn't hear her. They weren't listening. She had to warn them. She had to warn him.

And then they were there. The things. The monsters. The air crackled and burned as their neon weapons flashed overhead. Screams filled the air along with the acrid scent of smoke and burning flesh.

She had to find him. Had to warn him. Had to be with him, at the very least.

She pushed through the crowd. Saw faces she recognized... at least she thought they did. Everything was moving in such a blur that she had a hard time focusing on anything for more than a moment or two. But she had a goal and she had a burning will to accomplish it.

Of course... it didn't matter how strong her will was. It didn't matter how hard she fought. Nothing mattered. Because those things... they just took. They took and they never gave back.

He was dead when she found him. Lying in a heap on the ground, his body mangled but his face still perfect. Lips she had kissed less than an hour before. She lost him, just like she lost her parents. Just like she lost everthing.

It was too much this time. She knew she should be strong, but in that moment she wasn't. She was just a scared girl who couldn't take it any longer. She fell to her knees and cried. No... saying she cried didn't do it justice. She wept. She wailed. She screamed.

One of the things lumbered closer, but she didn't even bother running. Didn't bother fighting. What was the point? They would overpower her. Would outrun her. They couldn't be escaped, couldn't be killed. She just cradled his head in her lap and pressed another kiss to his cold lips. Their second kiss. Their last kiss.

She closed her eyes and waited for the end.

"Chyler!"

She jolted awake, tears streaming down her face and her lungs burning. Instinctively she gulped down air like she was starving for it... she was starving for it. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the dark room she was in, and even after they did it took her several long moments to recognize her surroundings.

The bedside table. The mirror across the room over the desk. The door that led to the small adjoining bathroom. The pile of clothes he always left on the floor because they 'weren't dirty enough to wash, but they were too dirty to fold and put in a drawer.'

That was when she finally realized that he was there with her. His strong arms wrapped around her, his heart beating against her back, his soft voice whispering in her ear.

"Tom," she breathed, his name leaving her lips in a sob. She leaned back into his chest, reaching over her shoulders with both hands to bury her fingers in his hair and pull him closer against her. She breathed in his familiar smell, felt his warm body against hers, curled her fingers in his longer than regulation hair.

He was her anchor, and she could finally breathe again.

"I'm here," was his answer. Simple. Strong. Dependable. Just like him.

"Don't... don't go," she responded.

Tom ran one hand through her hair. He was used to this. Some nights it was her who woke up crying, some nights it was him. They had learned to deal in the best way they knew how... by depending on each other. It was the only way they knew how.

"I'm not going anywhere," he breathed into her hair, his soft lips brushing against her scalp. "I'm staying right here, Chy."

Fresh tears fell from her eyes. The relief she felt was overwhelming. He was here. They had survived. They had each other.

She didn't know if she had a tomorrow. She didn't know if she had another breath. But she knew she had Tom. And that was all she needed.

[authortobenamedlater]

Far Away, For Far Too Long

7:15pm me: Oh, I'll do a little work on this fic.

10:00pm me: I MUST POST THIS NOW OR I WILL DIE

Sometimes Chyler just wishes Tom didn't have to be so brave.

I missed my rarepair and needed to write them. And Far Away is one of my favorite Tom/Chyler songs.

@mrtobenamedlater @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask @helix-studios117 @ageless-aislynn @rainintheevening @sarnakhwritesthings @stitchlingbelle @naranghim @makowrites

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

I’m in this picture and I don’t like it.

“Oh the people are gonna love this” I say making the most niche piece of media art work that is really only for me,3 people ,and a plastic bag that blows in every so often

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

How about…“expressing fears and discomforts” and “crying in front of them” for Tom/Chyler and Fred/Kelly?

Which pair goes with which prompt is author’s choice!

I cannot believe that I lost this in my inbox. Oh boy. I feel awful. So anyway, here goes!

Expressing fears and discomforts - Tom/Chyler

Chyler sat up in bed, noting with a frown the lack of a warm body beside her. She scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hands, then searched for the bedside clock. 0200. It was far too early to be waking up, and far too late to be sleeping alone.

Something was wrong.

She slowly rose from bed and made her way to the bedroom door. She snatched Tom's discarded hoodie from where it lay on the floor and wrapped herself in it to stave off the chilly midnight air. The door was closed, but she could tell by the dull light bleeding under the portal that he was in the kitchen of their small apartment. She gingerly opened the door and made her way out, blinking in the light.

"Chy, what are you doing up?" Tom asked worriedly while her eyes struggled to adjust to the light exposure. "It's the middle of the night!"

"I came out to ask you that exact question," Chyler said sternly, fixing her husband with a glare once she managed to see again. "Why did I wake up at two in the morning to an empty bed?" she demanded.

Tom, who had been looking at her with concern etched into his handsome features, ducked his head bashfully. "Sorry, I... I just needed to think for a minute," he explained. "Didn't want to wake you up."

Now it was Chyler's turn to feel concerned. "What's going on?" she asked quickly, briskly walking forward and taking Tom's hand in hers.

Her husband ducked his head again, seemingly avoiding eye contact. When he did glance her way and realized that she wasn't going to be letting this go any time soon, he tiredly rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "I... I'm scared, Chy," he said. "What if... what if I screw up?"

He finally turned to look at her. His eyes searched hers for several long moments, then they dropped until he was staring at her belly.

Chyler followed his eyes. When her tired brain finally managed to connect the dots, she couldn't help but laugh. "Screw up?" she asked somewhat incredulously. "Tom, of all the men I've ever met, you have the least to worry about in that regard."

Tom looked up at her seriously. "My dad set a high bar," he said quickly, "but... you know who my mom is. What if I end up more like her?" He stepped forward to wrap his arms around Chyler's waist, pulling her close and resting his forehead against hers. "You're my world, Chy. And..." he trailed off, one of his hands slowly sliding around to rest on her stomach. "And our baby will be too. I just don't want to mess up."

Even though she'd only told him about her positive pregnancy test the day before, the words our baby already sent a happy thrill through Chyler. She tenderly reached up and cupped one side of his face in her hand and pulled him down into a slow kiss.

"You're a good man, Tom. You won't 'mess up.'" She spoke firmly, staring confidently into his eyes. Then she smirked and added, "Besides - if you ever start to slip up, you have me to put you back in line."

Tom laughed and pressed another kiss to her lips. His stiff posture slowly relaxed as he looked down at her with a grin splitting his face.

"Now, first things first," Chyler said, resting her head against his chest. "Your wife is tired and pregnant. Carry her to bed."

Tom laughed again. "You're only a few weeks along," he said. "You're already going to start using 'I'm pregnant' against me?"

Chyler smiled sweetly and kissed his cheek. "Yes," she said happily. "Now carry me."

Tom rolled his eyes and shook his head ruefully, but despite his weak protests he still bent down to lift his wife in his arms and carry her back to their bedroom. "I'm really in trouble now, I can feel it," he chuckled. Chyler just snuggled into his chest and almost immediately fell back asleep.

----

Crying in front of them - Fred/Kelly

Fred stumbled into the viewing deck of the UNSC Atlas. He stumbled a lot these days - his legs were longer than they used to be. Stronger, too. The doctors had warned him that there would be an adjustment period, but he didn't know how long it would take.

That wasn't the most pressing issue on his mind, anyway.

He managed to keep his footing all the way to the viewport. He leaned against the railing and stared out at the expansive black that stretched out before him. Things were different now. So many of them were gone. Ralph, Fhajad, Alice... there was so much different now.

A sound echoed toward him from the shadows of the viewing room, and he instinctually whipped around to face it. "Who's there?" he demanded in a voice that he hoped was fiercer than it felt.

"It's just me," a quiet voice said from the shadows off to his right.

Fred recognized it instantly. "Kelly," he said matter-of-factly. "What are you doing here?"

His fellow Spartan sniffed loudly and hurriedly ran her hands over her face. "Nothing," she snapped defensively. "What are you doing here?"

Fred leaned one elbow on the railing and looked her over. She appeared small and fragile... the augmentations had been harder on her than most. She stayed sequestered under medical care for two full weeks longer than any of the others.

"It's weird, isn't it?" he asked, ignoring Kelly's question. "Everything has changed. Everything is..."

"Different?" Kelly supplied. She stepped forward and leaned on the railing beside him, slumping until their sides were touching. They stood together in silence, staring out at the black. "We lost so many," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "They didn't even have a fighting chance."

When Fred looked over at her, he noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked so different from when they'd first met as children. More mature. Her dark brown hair had lost all of the blue dye of their youth except for in the very ends, which she usually kept tucked into the neckline of her shirt. Her blue eyes shone with bunched-up tears.

Fred carefully lifted one arm and rested it on Kelly's shoulders. She stiffened under his touch, her gaze fixed on the viewport. Then, in a rush, her defensive posture melted away and she collapsed into his tentative embrace. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs as they stared out at the dark, imagining the caskets of their fallen teammates.

"I'm... I'm glad you're here," Fred finally said, hearing his own voice break as he spoke. "We lost too many. If we'd lost you too..." he trailed off, unable to finish the thought out loud. Kelly seemed to understand, because her own arms snaked around his waist and she clung tightly to him.

No more words passed between them. They simply leaned into each other, supporting one another under the unbearable weight of this experience.

"I'm glad you're here, too," Kelly finally breathed, releasing her hold on him. They slowly separated. "We should go," she said slowly, turning toward the door. "I'm sure the others will be waiting."

Fred nodded firmly and followed her out. For whatever reason, they had allowed this special moment to pass between them. But now they had to push it all aside. They had work to do.

[authortobenamedlater]

I made a Tom/Chyler Picrew.

Link here.

They are young and Tom is very belatedly getting a clue 😂

I don’t know why I never thought to do this before.

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

32 from the hugs list for Fred/Kelly and 4 from the touching list for Tom and Chyler?

Okay! It took me about a decade, but after way too many different attempts to actually write these prompts out I think I've finally stumbled upon something that I like.

Thanks for sending me the prompts! I enjoyed writing these little blurbs. Hopefully they turned out alright.

Prompts come from this post.

32. Long-lasting Hugs - Fred/Kelly

(For context, this happens right after the Spaghetti-Slipspace battle in First Strike.)

Kelly entered the room carefully. Despite the fact that the bulkier sections of her armor had been removed, the techsuit she still wore managed to irritate her wounds with practically every twitch of a muscle. Still, she was on a mission.

The single occupant of the medical suite lay motionless, still recovering from the zero-gee excursion to repair the damaged section of the Ascendant Justice’s hull. Cortana had informed her that he was waking up, but it seemed that Fred’s body had yet to receive the same message.

She took advantage of his slow stirring to look the other Spartan over. His helmet was off, laid on a counter to one side by whoever had managed to cart him here. His scarred face was calm. Peaceful, even.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him that way.

Though she felt almost desperate for him to wake up - to hear him tell her in his own voice that he was okay - it still almost hurt to watch that rare peace slip away from his handsome face, replaced by the frown lines and markers of near-constant stress that had taken its place as the years went by.

Though her burned skin screamed in protest at any quick movement, she was at his side before his eyes fluttered open. “How are you feeling?” she asked gently, resisting the urge to brush the black hair back from his forehead.

He glared at the ceiling, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light. “What happened?” he asked in a voice rough with disuse.

Kelly paused for a moment, searching for the right words. “After that last strike, Will was the first one to wake up. He managed to drag the rest of you back in. He and Grace are both active and cleared for duty. John is stable, but he’s still unconscious.”

Fred forced himself into a sitting position, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Anton and Li? Polaski?” he asked softly. By the tone of his voice, he already knew the answer.

“They didn’t make it,” she forced out around the lump in her throat.

Kelly watched her fellow Spartan process the information. She could practically see new worry lines etch their way into his visage as he found some way to blame himself for their deaths.

“So many,” he whispered in a voice so quiet she wondered if he’d even meant to say it out loud. His armored hand slowly made its way toward hers, two armored fingers hooking around a pair of her bare digits. “I dreamed I’d lost you too,” he admitted softly.

There was something in his voice; something that he usually kept under layers of either sarcasm or stoicism. Vulnerability. Fear. The kind of raw emotions that led soldiers to make poor decisions in battle. The kind that each Spartan had long ago trained themself not to feel.

The kind that she had been battling since those horrible moments when she thought that he had died in that tangled mess of Slipspace alongside the others.

Of their own accord, Kelly’s arms wrapped around Fred’s neck. She forced down the shrieking pain of her still–healing injuries and pulled the man close enough to rest their foreheads against one another. She felt his arms wrap around her in return, careful not to harm her with his enhanced strength.

Neither one of them spoke a word. They simply embraced, clinging to one another as though they would die if they lost their grip. In the back of Kelly’s mind she knew that whatever time they had together was limited - that in a matter of moments they would be called back to the fight. To the war. To the real world.

But until the real world came calling, she would keep as tight a hold as she possibly could on the man she loved.

(It's sappy and gross, but whatever. I'm trying to learn to be okay with it when I write sappy and gross stuff.)

4. Caressing the Other's Hand - Tom/Chyler

(This actually turned out to be the opening of another story I am working on, in which I explore why a certain Admiral took a special interest in the career of a certain Navy officer. I'll hopefully get that finished before too awfully long.)

“It’s going to be fine, Tom,” Chyler repeated herself for probably the fortieth time. She spoke in a hushed tone, keeping her voice low so that the secretary seated not five yards away wouldn’t overhear them.

But who were they kidding? This was the headquarters of ONI, after all. Not a thing happened in this building unless it was being observed by at least half a dozen sets of eyes and ears.

“Would you stop pacing? They’ll think you’ve gone mad.”

She had a point there, Tom had to concede. During the twenty minutes they’d been waiting outside the ornate oak door that separated them from the stuff of nightmares, Tom hadn’t managed to make himself sit still for more than a few seconds at a time.

“I don’t know how you can be so calm about all of this,” he hissed as he anxiously made his way back to her side. “We get a personal summons from the UNSC’s boogeyman and you expect me to sit still like I’m in Sunday School.”

Chyler sighed good-naturedly, rolling her eyes at him. “No, I expect you to behave like an adult waiting outside the office of an extremely high-ranking superior. Can you do that?”

Tom glared at his shoes. She was right. Of course she was right; she was always right. It was one of the things he loved - and hated - most about her.

“I’ll try,” he finally grumbled as he fell into his seat.

Chyler smiled and dipped her head. “That’s all I ask,” she said softly. “I’d like to remember that you spent your last moments with at least some dignity.”

Tom shot her a dark look, but couldn’t keep a grin from catching hold of his lips. She also always knew just how to lighten him up, and for that he was extremely grateful.

They sat in silence for several long moments. The young man felt the anxiety build up in his chest again as each second ticked by. After less than a minute, he was primed to explode all over again.

Chyler, reading his mind, reached out one hand to take hold of his. Her soft, ice-cold fingers slowly traced the back of his hand and gave him something - anything - to focus on besides his impending doom. He sank into the familiar feeling; chased the comfort of her hand wrapped in his. Became so encompassed by the sensation that he nearly jumped when he heard the secretary clear his throat from behind that ridiculous desk.

“Lieutenant Lasky?” the young man called out. He raised an eyebrow disapprovingly when both Tom and Chyler snapped to attention. “Lieutenant Thomas Lasky,” he amended.

Tom squeezed Chyler’s hand one last time and shot her a glance over his shoulder as he made his way to the desk.

You’ll be fine, Chyler mouthed reassuringly.

“I’ll buzz you in,” the secretary grumbled, gesturing impatiently. “And step to it. Admiral Parangosky doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

[authortobenamedlater]

Don’t look at me

one or both members of otp: dead

me: they’ll work around that

[authortobenamedlater]

Parapraxis

@writeforfandoms @sarnakhwritesthings the fic based on the infamous autocorrect reblog chain has arrived! After way too long!

Fair warning for anyone who might get squicked with such things, there is a fair amount foul language in here. It’s for plot purposes and I have tried to keep it “funny first, foul second.” It's definitely a notch above my usual fare though.

@alternatescififandomelover @getonmybookshelf @spiralled-fury @stressineer @glyphwright Since you all liked the post about how I had a first draft for this...uh...wanna read the whole fic?

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

Even though the last ask you sent me is languishing in my inbox 😆 11 from Angry Confessions for Tom/Chyler and “Being touch-starved and needy was really starting to mess with their reputation as a tough guy.” from Touch Starved Prompts for Fred/Kelly?

Well. I hadn't really expected these prompts to inspire full-fledged stories in my head, but they have. I mixed your Fred/Kelly prompt with another one from @makowrites here!

For the Tom/Chyler prompt, I'm now working on a one-shot to fill this too. But here's the most relevant excerpt.

“I’m fine, will you get off my case?” Tom winced. He hadn’t really meant to raise his voice. He had been listed officially dead for more than two days. Of course she was worried about him, and he had no right to expect her not to be. Chyler’s glare was powerful enough to make Tom feel distinctly glad that they were currently talking over a video call, not in person. “‘Get off your case?’” she seethed, her jaw clenching. “I swear, it would take an industrial crane to pull your head out of your…” she trailed off, clearly flustered. After taking a few deep breaths, she started again. “Someone has to act like they care whether you live or die, Tom.” “Why do you care?” he fired back, his temper flaring to match hers, reasonable or not. “It clearly isn’t doing you any favors.” The rage on Chyler’s face slowly subsided, turning into… something else. She lifted one shaking hand and rubbed it down her face and sighed forcefully. “Why do I care?” she asked, her voice quiet now. Her eyes seemed to be staring at some point over his left shoulder, refusing to make eye contact with him. “Can’t you see that I love you? That I always have?” Tom felt his jaw drop. Suddenly, he found himself feeling less like the hero the men outside were claiming he was. He felt like an absolute prat. “Chy…” “I have to go,” Chyler cut him off. “Congratulations on your miraculous survival, Lieutenant.” Then she was gone, leaving Tom with nothing to look at but his own reflection on the glossy wall. Tom dropped his head in his hands with a groan. “I love you too,” he murmured to no one in particular.

I'm really excited to finish this story. I think it'll be a lot of fun.

[authortobenamedlater]

The Halo S2 trailer has me thinking that one of the many stories I haven’t written for Tom and Chyler yet is what they’re doing when Reach falls.

I’ve waffled between them being on Reach and getting evacuated/hastily deployed for air support, and one of them being on Reach and the other somewhere else.

Lasky’s Halo Alpha (I know Alphas can be iffy but you take what you can get when you live in in side character hell) says he was on Luna during the Battle for Earth, so he was probably there during Reach as well? So Chyler was on Reach and got off the surface before things really went to crap.

Do I want it to be sort of Circinius Redux or Circinius But Worse? If they’re separated, neither will know the other’s fate for a few days at least. Or. Well. Chyler would probably be pretty sure Tom is fine, since he isn’t near the action. Tom though wouldn’t know anything right away. He might even assume she died on the surface.

If I REALLY want to dial it up to 11, there’s a mix-up or last-minute change to Chyler’s ship assignment. The ship she would have been on gets destroyed and she was still listed on the crew manifest. So Tom THINKS she’s gone, and then finds out randomly that Chyler is fine and has been trying to reach him for two days and had no idea he thought she was dead.

I only meant to write one paragraph sheesh.

Also this would be TWO glassings Tom and Chyler have survived.

[authortobenamedlater]

FINALLY ONE FOR ME

My original ship, they should have gotten married way before they did. Like sorry I would not have given @mrtobenamedlater 15 years to put a ring on it and he would not have waited around while I was consorting with a Klingon.

Almost as original as Will and Deanna. I have never really been in the LOTR fandom but I loved these two the second I met them. I was in first grade and Daddy ToBeNamedLater was reading the books to me. Most of my ships come back to this one somehow, you will probably notice.

I FREAKING LOVE THEM. I LOVE THEM YOU SHOULD TOO.

What’s not to love. Do I really need to add anything here?

There’s an element of pride here because I was one of the original DinBo shippers, and some of my best fic is for them. They love each other so much and everyone knows it but them. They might never have met and definitely wouldn’t have fallen in love if they hadn’t gotten basically stuck together. I will forever mourn the loss of so much MRR material in my computer crash.

I don’t read much MCU fic these days but I still love them.

*sigh* What might have been.

Best for last. Don’t ask me why I love them a ridiculous amount. I tried to not ship them and they wouldn’t let me. Someone in this messed-up universe deserves a happy ending, why shouldn’t it be these two?

Okay, FUCKERS, it’s time to expose yourselves for the FILTHY SINNERS you are and put your favorite hetero ship in the tags!!

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

If Tom and Chyler had a son, his name would be Cadmon Walter Lasky.

That's all.

[authortobenamedlater]

Chyler allowing herself to make a mistake in front of Tom from the vulnerability prompts? I feel like she's a big time perfectionist.

Also just gonna throw this out there, but "begging them to stay" sounds like it has great potential for some angsty injury feels with a Spartan pairing like John/Cortana or Fred/Kelly.

From these prompts.

Well this took me forever and ever to finish. And that was just the first prompt.

I had a more serious response for this, but I wanted to write something for this mini-AU ❤️

xxxxxx

“Tom? You—hold on.”

Tom sat with a bemused smile as the video feed in front of him shook and jumped to the soundtrack of a small child’s squawking. He’d finally managed to secure a real-time video call to his family on Luna, and for the first time in months he could watch the chaos unfold without a time delay.

“OK.” Chyler set her device on the counter. “You there?” She leaned down into the shot.

“I am.” Tom raised the volume on his headset and made sure the noise canceling function was on. Even so, it was hard to block out the constant drone of Flying Fortress’s engines and the other conversations going on around him in the room colloquially dubbed “the phone booth.” “Should I ask how things are going on the home front?”

“It’s—Kate! What is that? Oh, just Teddy. OK. Yeah, we’re good.” Chyler answered.

“Sounds it,” Tom observed dryly.

“Kate! Honey!” Chyler picked up the tablet and started walking across the tiny apartment. “Want to say hi to Dada?”

The camera display flipped around and Tom saw his daughter sitting on the floor playing with a brown teddy bear. “Princess Kate!” He greeted.

“It’s Dada!” Chyler said.

“Dada!” The two-and-a-half-year-old dropped the toy crawled toward the screen. Her dark curls flopped over her eyes.

Tom ducked his face out of view. “Now, where’s that adorable Kate?” He sat up and feigned surprise. “Kate!” He placed his hand in front of the camera. “No Kate!” He moved his hand away. “Kate!” He covered the lens again. “No Kate!”

The little girl giggled and squealed at the familiar game. Well, familiar to Tom. He wondered if Kate even remembered the last time they’d played.

She’s so much bigger than she was then.

She looks so much like her mom.

“You’re not causing any trouble for Mumma, are you?” Tom asked, trying to take his mind off the gnawing sensation in his chest.

“Not for me, but the teachers at Launch Pad tell me she’s a little escape artist,” Chyler reported as Kate reached out to the screen. “You know I went to pick her up yesterday and found her running up and down the hall?”

Tom’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“She must have slipped out while they were changing shifts,” Chyler jerked the tablet away. “Kate, stop.”

“I hope you had words with them.” Tom frowned.

“Tom, she’s fine.” The feed jumped as Chyler stood. “They have those tags for a reason. If she’d managed to get out of the building somehow it would have tripped the alarm.”

“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” Tom sighed.

“Because you’re paranoid.” 

Tom scowled. “Daddy instinct, all right?”

Kate stood up and batted the display again. 

“Kate, don’t—don’t hit the End button!” Chyler jerked the tablet away.

“Dada!” Kate called.

“Hi, baby,” Tom chuckled as Chyler held the screen out of Kate’s reach. “Dada loves you.”

“Say ‘I love you’?” Chyler prompted.

“Ah ya yoo!” Kate responded, her tiny arms wrapping around her mother’s legs.

“Oh, I love you, Katie Bug.” Tom bit his tongue. He missed her so much. “Dada’s gonna see you next week, OK?”

“I can’t wait for you to get back,” Chyler said wearily. 

“I can’t wait to be back.” Tom watched Kate toddle back to her toys. “Kate probably thinks her dad lives in a computer screen.”

“She does not,” Chyler assured.

“And I’m starting to get claustrophobic in this tin can,” Tom added. “I’m ready to breathe air that isn’t recycled. And not have metal dust all over me. And see a color besides gray.”

“The last couple weeks is always the worst.” Chyler turned the camera to face herself and sat on the couch. “We’ve both been down this road.”

“I know, I know.” Tom rested his chin on his hand and took in his wife’s face. “I ever tell you you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen?”

“That’s your deployment goggles talking,” Chyler said with a poorly concealed smile.

“Learn to take a compliment, hon.”

“I—oh!” A crash interrupted whatever Chyler was going to say. 

“Chyler?!” Tom sat up straighter in alarm as the tablet clattered to the floor.

“Shit!” Chyler exclaimed. “Kate!”

“Chyler!” Tom called loudly enough to draw some glances from the phone booth’s other occupants.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Chyler made a grunt of frustration. “You didn’t hear that, Kate.” Chyler picked up the tablet and pushed her hair off her face. “She knocked over that toy kitchen from your mum. I was afraid—”

“Shit!”

Tom’s jaw dropped. Chyler’s gaze shifted past the tablet.

“Shit!” Kate repeated the word with a toddler’s pride.

“Kate, remember, you didn’t hear Mumma say that,” Chyler said without looking at her husband.

Tom’s “Looks like she did” rebuttal got lost in laughter.

“Tom, stop laughing,” Chyler ordered.

Tom just shook his head. He was surely drawing even more attention to himself now.

“This isn’t funny,” Chyler continued.

“Yes, it is,” Tom managed to wheeze.

“Shit!” Kate hollered again.

“Kate, stop it,” Chyler admonished uselessly.

“Don’t give an order—” Tom had to stop and gather himself. “Don’t give an order you know won’t be obeyed.”

“What’s up with Lasky?” Tom heard someone ask behind him.

Tom wiped his eyes. “And you were always afraid she’d hear it from me.”

Chyler glared into the camera. “You’d better not tell any of your buddies about this.”

“There’s—” Tom looked around the room. “Eight other people in here! It’s too late!”

“You know what? You can stay in that tin can,” Chyler said. “And I hope you choke on metal dust.”

If he choked on metal dust now, at least he’d go happy. “Love you!” Tom grinned and waved at his bride.

Chyler ended the call, but not before Kate got the last four-letter word.

xxxxxx

Flying Fortress is a reference to the B-17. I thought it was a good name for a carrier.

The daycare story is based on Mr finding Bum Bum escaped from his Sunday School room one day.

[eimaiaxiosx]

Was Chyler the only person you ever loved/had feelings for?

"No, Chyler wasn't the only person I ever had feelings for. There were others after her. None at the moment, either. Or that I'll admit too anyways."

[authortobenamedlater]

Deanna and Will

Leia and Han

Mrs. Shaw (who exists only in my mind but she DOES exist there) and Liam

Cortana and John (either versions) or Cortana to John’s ladylove who doesn’t have a name yet in my Vital Record AU

Hera and Kanan

Sabine and Ezra

Roland to Palmer or Chyler about Lasky

can you come collect your freak of a man please. He’s doing things

[authortobenamedlater]

Stop me before I AU again but I could totally make a crackish AU-within-an-AU where Palmer doesn’t get Lasky away from the artifact and Spartan Ops is Lasky and Glassman trying to buddy-cop their way through everything on Requiem while Chyler is holding the ship together.

Chyler of course is scared to death until Tom is home and mostly unharmed at which point she immediately becomes FURIOUS with him. Why would he grab at a man getting sucked into a Forerunner energy beam. Why WOULDN’T he grab at a man getting sucked into a Forerunner energy beam. Did you have your sense of self-preservation permanently removed, Tom?!?!?! Let’s not even start on the truckload of ONI BS Chyler had to shovel.

I think Tom would be proud of his bride for moving the chess pieces and sending Majestic in to rescue Halsey/foil Palmer’s plans, though. Sounds almost like something he would do.

Also need a fic where Gabriel Thorne (voiced by none other than Ethan Peck) gets outed as the Singing Spartan.