#Why am I rooting against Dr bright????

[rosielav]

Episode 9 of The Bright Sessions:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAA AAAHAHAHHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAH YYYYEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!! AAAAHAHAHAHAHA GET HER ASS AAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAHAA

[coramatus]

Please inflict this idea upon us, I am extremely curious about why it’s a bad idea

Welp. Y’all are verrrrry curious!

I’ll just dump most of the brainstorming text here.

(It’s a bad idea bc it came from me 8’3)

Tl;dr: Ingo makes a deal with Reshiram and is reborn as a baby black Reshiram

Basically, Ingo gets royally screwed over and left stranded in Hisui, destined to die there without ever getting the chance to return to his proper place. Ingo isn’t happy about this but what can he do?

On a whim, he makes a heartfelt plea to whoever from his homeland can hear him to help him go home. He just wants to go home…

And something is compelled to respond.

Ingo is met with a bright flash of light and a strangely familiar roar. When the light clears, he is faced with a great white feathered dragon staring down at him. He is quick to bow in reverence, but the dragon tells him it won’t be necessary. It introduces itself as Reshiram, the Twin Dragon of Truth.

Because he is a child of Unova, Ingo is under its influence and it has a way to help him get back to his proper home. But seeing as how Ingo’s home is in the future, that method won’t be straightforward. Reshiram has no power over time itself; their only way forward is to go the long way. Of course, Ingo’s human body can’t be sustained for such a long time. Ingo will have to be changed, given a form that can last until the right time when said memories will be returned. A form that will be under Reshiram’s direct protection.

Ingo is unsure about this whole thing and asks for some time to decide. Reshiram obliges.

Initially, Ingo goes around Hisui asking for advice but he quickly realizes that if this is his only way back then he has to take it. His travels turn into him saying his goodbyes to everyone. Most are sad to see him go, but they know how much he’s wanted to leave.

In the end, Ingo returns to Reshiram and agrees. He asks what he’s supposed to do and Reshiram simply tells him to hold still. It leans in and bumps Ingo’s chest with its nose. Warmth washes over Ingo’s body and he starts to feel faint. Reshiram tells him to sleep, he will reawaken when it’s time. Until then, he should enjoy his new life.

Ingo tries to hold on but darkness overtakes him. Suddenly, he’s in a tight dark space. He tries to move but finds he doesn't have a body to move anymore. Any panic and fear quickly fizzle away as his mind fades to nothing.

Where Ingo once stood, his empty clothes fall into a pile over a large egg. Reshiram nuzzles the egg, promising to take care of him before sweeping the clothing and egg bundle into its grasp. With everything secured, it soars back to Unova, building a nest in a distant cave where it can brood over the egg.

Inside the egg, something that was once Ingo starts to stir. Any knowledge of what he once was sinks away into a locked and buried space. New ideas bubble up into his mind. The thought of soaring in sunny blue skies brings a sense of wonder and joy. The image of hot burning flames warms his heart. The knowledge that he is of dragons takes root.

For Reshiram, several years pass as its ward incubates. They are patient though, staying on the egg for months at a time, turning it over, and doting on it.

At long last, the egg finally starts to move, wriggling as its occupant starts to break free. Faint peeping can be heard as he calls out plaintively.

Reshiram gives the egg a rumbling nudge of encouragement and it starts to crack in response.

After several hours of struggling, enough eggshell is broken away to allow the hatchling to come tumbling out with a weak peep. He is a black, baby Reshiram, his feathers still not fully developed, his body weakly gasping and shivering.

‘Hello, little Ingo,’ Reshiram warmly welcomes him. It nuzzles the tiny black hatchling and the reborn Ingo flops against it in loving relief. A warm tongue bathes him as his downy black feathers dry and fluff up, allowing him to warm quickly. He soon falls asleep against his parent’s feathery fluff, exhausted but happy.

The first hundred years are busy, Reshiram teaching its child how to be a dragon. Ingo eagerly takes to his lessons even if he is a clumsy, peeping hatchling at first. He slowly grows into his body, his flight feathers developing, his wings strengthening. He learns to use his fire, burning a silvery-blue shade. He calls Reshiram both mama and papa and later on just ‘parent’. As he grows more confident in his body, Reshiram teaches him more of his inherent powers, showing him how to live among both humans and Pokémon by disguising himself. His human form is unsurprisingly identical to his past self’s appearance. He also learns how to attune himself to Truths and sensing lies. Lies don’t mortally offend him like his parent but he doesn’t like them either.

His first century is a blissful one.

Ingo reaches maturity at a hundred years. Though he’s ecstatic at being able to venture out on his own, it’s not entirely by choice. His parent tells him that they need to leave, they have a greater role to fulfill. But he should be ready for whatever the world throws at him. All he has to do is remember that when the time comes: he is Ingo, he has always been Ingo and that will never change.

Ingo doesn’t know what that means. Reshiram nuzzles him one last time and simply tells him it will fulfill a promise they made to him a long time ago.

With that, Reshiram flies away, leaving Ingo to forge his own path ahead.

Ingo spends the next hundred or so years simply living his life and having a great time. He observes Unovan society, easily taking on human guise and walking amongst humanity. He watches the development of trains and adores them (gets a job as a fireman at one point and his trains weirdly tend to run faster). He watches the rise of modern Pokémon battling and loves that too. Meanwhile, he builds up a bit of a reputation of being a big ol’ cryptid ‘The Black Reshiram’ and he thinks that’s hilarious.

As his proper time comes closer, he doesn’t really notice anything off. He never sees his past self or Emmet due to not being around Nimbasa much and not being able to access the Battle Subway (legendaries are banned after all lol) (took one look at the banned sign, went ‘aww man…’ and left)

He does see his past self’s missing posters and that is really concerning because uh… how is he missing and which human even knows he exists???

Several years after Subway Boss Ingo vanishes, the day comes. (Reshiram didn’t have an exact date so it gave itself a few extra years as a buffer.)

This could go several ways, but I’m a whore for angst so that’s where I went

Dragon Ingo is sent into an existential crisis.

Ingo is having a nice flight over the sparse desert when his old human memories slam into him like a Thunderbolt. Confused and terrified, he involuntarily shifts to human form, sending him crashing back down to earth. But he doesn’t care. He’s too busy trying to figure out who he is as he screams in horror, his mind melting down from the conflicting histories.

When he comes back to himself, Ingo feels like he’s been torn in half. He remembers and it’s the worst pain he’s ever felt.

And yet he has no choice but to move forwards.

Past Ingo didn’t remember his past life, leaving current Ingo to start picking up the pieces. He learns who Subway Boss Ingo was, his life and legacy before disappearing.

And he learns who Emmet is.

Ingo is terrified, but is inevitably drawn to Nimbasa and watches Emmet, feeling a strange longing pulling him to the man. But Ingo still doesn’t know who he really is anymore. He’s spent so long as a dragon, his past human life feels less consequential. And yet it’s part of him; it will always be part of him.

It’s in one of those moments of hesitation that Emmet spots him.

Their reunion doesn’t go well. Though Ingo tries to hide from Emmet, Emmet still zeros in on him and tries to hug him. But Ingo is still suffering from his identity crisis and freaks out, shoving Emmet off, begging him to leave him alone before fleeing. The sight of Ingo’s retreating back almost breaks Emmet. He’s so hurt and confused but he won’t let that stop him.

So he gives chase.

Their chase lasts for a while before Emmet ultimately tackles Ingo, demanding to know why he’s running, where he’s been, what is going on, etc.. Ingo can’t handle it anymore and throws Emmet off as he starts shifting back into his dragon form. Emmet is left to watch in terror as Ingo begs him to stay away, his fingers turning to claws, black feathers growing from his body, his teeth shifting to fangs. Where his brother once stood is a terrified black Reshiram, cowering from him, weeping. Emmet is at a loss for words and can only stare as the dragon takes to the air and flies away. For a long time, Emmet sits there in shock, unable to move as he struggles to understand what he just saw when a large black feather is blown to him. Emmet picks it up, examining the sleek feather. Something in him breaks and he crumples, cradling the feather as he cries. He apologizes to Ingo, begging him to come back. He misses him. He just wants his brother home again. A teardrop lands on the feather…

Ingo’s heart clenches in his chest. He can hear Emmet’s Truth. But he can’t respond. He’s too scared. He doesn’t know who he is anymore. He flies out to the desert, roaring mournfully as he collapses back into human form. He curls up in the dirt and cries.

The next day, Ingo is awoken by human hands shaking him. He opens his eyes to find unfamiliar people fussing over him, thinking him a lost hiker of some sort. They offer him food and water which he sluggishly accepts, still lost in his existential crisis. Then one of them recognizes him as the missing Subway Boss. Ingo tries to push them away to say that he’s not, he doesn’t know who he is, he wants to be left alone. But his rescuers are so kind and gentle with him that he can’t bring himself to do anything against them. So he reluctantly allows himself to be ushered into a vehicle and taken back to Nimbasa.

For Emmet, he’s ready to spend the whole week sleeping. He doesn’t understand what he witnessed yesterday, what he has undeniable proof of. He saw Ingo and Ingo saw him. But Ingo was afraid… and then turned into a dragon and flew away.

What is he even supposed to do with that?

His phone rings and he ignores it. It rings again and he still ignores it. And then it won’t stop ringing. Emmet gets fed up and answers, aggravated. The voice in the other line immediately tells him they found Ingo! Out in the middle of the desert, just laying there. Emmet realizes that is where Ingo went. But if he could turn into a dragon why didn’t he do that with these strangers and just fly away again? He doesn’t say this but tells them he’ll be in the hospital soon. He makes sure to take Ingo’s feather with him.

In the hospital, Ingo sits on an unused bed, allowing himself to be checked over by doctors. They’ve diagnosed him with amnesia, which isn’t wrong, but otherwise he has a clean bill of health. He still wants to be left alone, which is thankfully largely being respected. Until he’s told his brother is coming. Ingo realizes he can’t avoid Emmet forever and reluctantly acquiesces to Emmet’s visit.

When Emmet walks into the room, he’s disappointed but not surprised to see Ingo flinch from his entry. With a much quieter approach, he sits in a chair further away from Ingo and waits for him to speak first, not making eye contact. This approach seems to work better as Ingo slowly feels compelled to talk.

“E-Emmet…” Ingo whispers.

“Hi… Ingo…” Emmet responds softly.

Ingo isn’t sure how to respond. This is a completely different reaction from yesterday.

With clear movements, Emmet pulls out the feather.

“You… ah… left this. Yesterday,” Emmet says uncertainly. He holds it out, “Do you want it back?”

Ingo stares at it and shakes his head.

“May I keep it?”

Ingo considers this and nods quietly.

“Thank you,” Emmet smiles in gratitude, tucking the feather into his shirt pocket.

Silence continues.

“…why did you run away?” Emmet asks softly.

“It’s a long— I-I’m— I’m not… I’m… sorry…” Ingo stumbles, at a complete loss of how to explain anything. So he tells Emmet what he’s sure of: “…i don’t know who i am.”

“But your name—”

“Is Ingo… I know… but… I haven’t been Ingo the human in t-two hundred years…” he says, his voice fading to a quiet whimper, “That Ingo… he gave up his life… I’m just what’s left…”

“Is that why… the dragon thing?”

Ingo nods, starting to cry, “Your brother was sent to the past. He wasn’t allowed to come back. So he begged for help… My parent… I don’t know why they listened… They promised a way for him to survive the passage of time…”

Emmet starts to understand, “…and you were it.”

“He became me. And he… his memories were locked away. Until… until a few days ago…” Ingo curls up, his voice pained, “I’m sorry, Emmet… I don’t think I’m your brother anymore… I am so sorry…”

Ingo is openly sobbing, grief overwhelming him. Grief for the old Ingo, grief for Emmet, grief for the bond they once shared.

He doesn’t move when he feels the bed dip by his side. He doesn’t move when Emmet lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t move when Emmet gives him a soft side hug.

“Do you… want to be that Ingo again?” Emmet asks carefully.

“I don’t know…” Ingo whispers, shaking, “I-I want to… but I… I’m scared…”

Looking at Ingo, Emmet knows what he has to do. It will break his heart, but it’s the right thing. He rests a hand on Ingo’s back.

“You don’t… have to be that Ingo… if you don’t really want to,” Emmet says, tears welling up in his eyes. He’s letting go of his brother; he’s finally letting himself grieve. “I miss my brother. But I would never force you to be him. He wouldn’t want that either.”

Ingo says nothing, only crying in shame.

“And if you’re not ready… then I won’t force that either.” Emmet leans in and kisses Ingo on his forehead, hugging him once more. “I love you, Ingo. Whenever you’re ready… the door home is always open for you.”

Ingo sobs harder as Emmet stands up and leaves.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Emmet is heartbroken to leave Ingo behind, but his brother… or whatever he is… doesn’t want him. Not now anyways. All he can do is respect that and mourn Ingo properly.

A few days pass. Emmet finds some peace in the knowledge that his brother is dead. He’s starting to work on a memorial service when there is a knock on the door.

Emmet finds a despondent Ingo on his doorstep.

Ingo doesn’t seem to know what to say. So Emmet lets him in, tells him to sit anywhere. Ingo does so, looking distinctly uncomfortable as Emmet prepares some coffee for the both of them.

And the two talk…

(And this is about as far as I got so far. There’s probably more but we’ll see.)

[slightlyaboveaverageiq]

Connor and the Brat {Part 15}

A/N: Really I just wanted Ava as a girlfriend/best friend for myself before she turned crazy which is why she’s so affectionate towards Ravenna.

“Maybe he was just trying to get off a your interrupted him.” Sarah and Brat both stared at Ava is disbelief at what she had just said. Brat had been retelling the story of the previous night and how Connor was acting weird right before she left with Ava. Both women were extremely upset to hear that Connor had left Brat alone all night and returned with Samantha Zanetti a former surgeon at Med that Connor had dated. And while both women were sure Connor probably had feelings for Brat and was using Sam to get over her Sarah didn’t think he would act on it while Brat was an IOP while Ava was practically encouraging him to.

“And why would he be doing that I’m crazy remember? I’m pretty sure the crazy/hot scale doesn’t work in my favor.” Ava left her spot beside Sarah and moved next to Brat gently caressing her face. When Ava first acted like this with her Brat found it odd because it was obvious the older woman had feelings for Sarah but Ava explained she held love for a lot of people and while she would never have sex with anyone else she did enjoy kissing them. Brat wasn’t blind and obviously Ava was very pretty and cared for her so she was happy to return the affection. She was sure Connor would have a heart attack if he knew though.

“Ravenna you are so bright, and talented, and beautiful. Anyone who tells you otherwise is just a waste of space.” Sarah had gotten up to get more wine and Ava leaned in placing a delicate kiss on the younger woman’s shoulder. Brat smiled at her and kissed her back leaning against her to get more comfortable taking a rather large gulp from her wine glass.

“You really think that’s what Connor was doing when I asked him to bring me here?” Ava smirked down at her.

“Connor basically laid a claim to you on the first day that you couldn’t be anyone’s favorite besides his. I’m sure he was butthurt that you wanted to come over.” Brat frowned as she remembered that Connor did seem rather upset she wanted to spend time with Ava but she as allowed to have friends other than him. “Plus he’s already told me he had a sex dream about you.” OF COURSE Ava just added that on non chalantly at the end and Brat just about choked on her own wine and heard Sarah quite possibly dying in the kitchen.

“Like he said the actual words he had a sex dream about me?”

“Well no, but that morning he was late he got hard every time your name was mentioned so it wasn’t hard to put the two together.” Brat bit her bottom lip intrigued by this new information whole Sarah just pretended not to hear it because ethically she would have to report it to Dr. Charles but morally she was also rooting for her two new friends to end up together.

“So what am I supposed to do?” Ava was quiet for a moment.

“We’ll make him realize how much he needs you around. Take my phone and text him telling him you’re spending the night.” Oh that was a sure fire way to make him upset but Ava was his friend first so maybe she knew what she was doing. Brat could feel her heart in her stomach as Ava’s phone buzzed in her hands.

Connor- I’m picking you up at 7am

Oh he was definitely not happy, bit Brat couldn’t tell if he was angry with her or sad that she was choosing to spend time with Ava over him. Ava smiled when she saw another message from Connor and pointed at it.

Connor- Tell mommy dearest she’s going to have to make a custody schedule

Brat didn’t even know how to respond but luckily Ava did and she quickly ran to her room. Brat was wondering what Ava could have said that would make her leave like she was terrified of Brats response but she read it and felt her cheeks heat up.

Brat (Ava)- Goodnight daddy xx

“AVA!”

[dragonscanwrite]

Retrieval Mission: Epilogue

This follows on from the story Retrieval Mission.

Dr Zaan stumbled over a tree root in the path. He picked himself up and kept running. Sweat cleared lines down his soot-blackened face. Billows of smoke clouded out the sky behind him. He finally reached the clearing marked for landing ships. He was panting and gasping, dropping to his knees and throwing up. He just hoped against hope that someone would have heard the distress signal before passing out.

He woke up in a brightly lit medical bay. He sat bolt upright and looked around. A nurse came into the room to see to him. He looked down to see that he was dressed in medical robes. "Nurse, what's happening?" "Please lay down Doctor. I just need to take some final readings." "Where am I?" he asked. He knew it sounded stupid but last thing he knew he was laying in a field somewhere. "You are in one of the finest medical facilities in the galaxy, on board the Rochester, one of the finest star cruisers in the galaxy." She wasn't smug when she said this, she was simply stating the facts as she knew them. "The Rochester? That doesn't sounds like an Imperial ship?" "It isn't. You are travelling at the personal pleasure of Wolff Van Daal the third. A Rogue Trader of some note. He asked me to inform him when you awoke. He wants to talk to you personally." "Oh"

The nurse finished the scanning, gave Dr Zaan a clean bill of health. He was then escorted to a dressing room by a well dressed man, a butler perhaps. "His lordship has instructed me to let you take your pick from these wardrobes. I understand that you were found in the most dishevelled state."

He dressed himself, combed what little hair remained and was once again escorted through luxurious corridors into a finely decorated drawing room. The butler left the room, closing the door with practised silence. Dr Zaan walked around slowly, taking in the expensive but tasteful decor. He didn't know enough about this sort of thing to comment but he guessed that one of the chairs alone would cost a year's pay.

"Ah, Doctor!" Van Daal himself entered briskly from a different door, his arms opened wide and his face bright and cheerful, "Welcome on board! I hope you have been comfortable so far. The Rochester is an old tub but one has to make do. Please, take a seat. Would you like a drink? Brandy perhaps?" "Oh, yes please your lordship." He was blown back by the sheer force of the man's personal presence. "Bah, none of this lordship business, please, call me Wolff." He handed an expensive crystalline glass to the Doctor, "Nasty business down there I hear. I am so glad the sawbones managed to get you on your feet again so quickly." "Oh, you heard?" "Not much. You were screaming a bit in your sleep, and, you were quite the state when they found you." Dr Zaan took a long draw from the glass. The brandy was the smoothest he had ever tasted. The slight burn of alcohol at the end was a welcome feeling but reminded him of how badly his nerves were shot. "Why don't you tell me what happened down there?" "Well uhh-" he hesitated. Was this the man to be telling this to? Shouldn't he submit an official report first? Though, with the facility destroyed and Lt Col Periwinkle dead, he had no idea who he'd submit it to, or even who he reported to right now. "Doctor, there is no need to be shy. I've had the pleasure of reading up on your resume. Very impressive stuff. I could really use a man like you to head up a new research team I'm putting together." "Oh really?" He couldn't resist the flattery, "Well, what kind of research are you looking to conduct?" "We an discuss it after you tell me of your recent unfortunate adventures." "Oh, ok, well then. The day started and normal but-"

He continued with his version of events, including the giant aliens that forced him to open the vault after a valiant fight from him. He finished by telling of the monster's madness in locking away the staff into a room and then setting the place on fire. How he tried to fight them off but they were just too strong, so he ran for help instead. At the end of the tale Van Daal asked a few more questions and then, quite suddenly left.

"I do apologise dear Doctor, but I have urgent matters to attend to. I have made arrangements for you to stay in one of the guest bedrooms. It is not much but I hope you at least find it comfortable enough to rest in."

The room he was escorted to by the butler was larger than the entire accommodation wing of the facility he had been working in. He would certainly be comfortable here.

Over the next few days Dr Zaan tried to get back in contact with Van Daal but the man seemed to be constantly unavailable. He wasn't too concerned though given the size of the meals on offer and the library he ended up spending most his days in.

On the third day, Van Daal finally showed up, slipping into the library followed by two other men. "Dr Zaan, I have two visitors for you." he said. The men stepped forward. The Doctor's throat suddenly tightened. He instantly recognised the long robes and insignia of the Inquisition. "Dr Heinricht Zaal. Please come with us." one of them said, reaching a bony hand out. "I've appraised them of your little ordeal. They have a few questions of their own." His blood ran cold. He considered running but he didn't know where. Then he reminded himself that he was under duress. The aliens had forced his hand, quite literally. And this Wolff Van Daal fellow seemed to back him up. He stood up and went willingly with them. "Luckily we were able to pull footage from the facility's security system. It was very damaged though. I've handed it over to these gentlemen. Hopefully it helps clear everything up." Dr Zaal caught a cold flush again at this news. But, it should back up what he was saying. But it also might show other things too.

"Wilhelm, you managed to erase all the xenos from the tape, yes?" Van Daal asked as the Doctor was escorted away. "Of course sir. It was a very damaged tape but at least we saved the Doctor's last performance. Though I must say, the barricading of the door after locking his colleagues in, very unsporting." "The man was thorough. You don't get to that level without having a great attention to detail." "He did forget about the cameras however, sir." "Well, none of us are perfect Wilhelm." "No, sir."

[miekasa]

six thirty

+ pairing: armin arlert x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, enemies to lovers… kinda… in a very nerdy academic rivalry kind of way, me being a comedian you’re welcome, fluff, smut/nsfw content

+ word count: 5.6k… pls say sike

+ notes: shout out to ryn​​ for listening to me during our very many rambling sessions and also for extorting me into posting this. consider it a late birthday present for my favorite menace </2

+ side notes: no i am not a part of armin nation and i never want to be, nor do i wish speak of this again.

Armin Arlert is the perfect student. Prompt and well prepared during lecture; smart and insightful during office hours; the apple of any teacher’s eye. Unfortunately for him, so are you.

If you asked Armin, you were a little too clever for your own good, and liked to make it very well known that you believe you’re the smartest person in any room you walk into. That may be true, but it doesn’t mean that he has to sit there and worship your superiority complex. 

If someone asked you, you’d say that Armin was a know it all, and a manipulative little piece of shit. Again, not a completely false statement, but perhaps a slightly biased character analysis.

Neither of you are wrong. It’s why you’re both the bane of each other’s existence.  

There’s a noticeable grimace on your face, chin in your palm, elbows resting atop your desk, as you turn your head to where, sure enough, Armin is seated where he always is: first row, right side, directly in front of the podium, like perfect little teacher’s pet he wants to be. He doesn’t have any books to unpack like everybody else because a shiny, blue iPad is propped up on his desk in place of all of that. He’s robably looking through his pre-written list of showboaty questions to ask during lecture. Like he’s a cut above everyone else.  

Maybe some of the other morons in this course, but not you, that’s for damn sure. You bet that if you broke his thousand dollar tablet he wouldn’t think he’s such hot shit anymore. Maybe that would knock him down a couple of pegs.

“Look at him sitting there with his stupid blue eyes, and his stupid Bieber haircut, and his stupid, shiny blonde hair, and his stupid fucking glasses. I bet they’re not even real and he just wears them to—”

“Did you just call his hair shiny?”

You snap your head to your left, “What—no, of course not. I said shoddy, he’s probably a bottle blonde. Maybe all the chemicals from the hair dye seeps into his head and warps his sense of reality.”

“I’m pretty sure you said shiny.”

“Shut up, Annie.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “You got something against blondes? Because your track record would beg to differ.”

“Once. We kissed once, and it was truth or dare, and we were both sloshed.”

“You still chose me,” she reminds you, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

You huff, ignoring her words and turning your head back to Armin, this time finding him twirling his stupid fucking expensive Apple Pencil between his fingers like it’s nothing. You can feel your eye begin to twitch.

Perhaps he can, too—or maybe he can just feel your eyes boring holes into him—because he turns in your direction and ceases his pen twirling the moment you make eye-contact. More students filter in, walking past your line of vision, but each time they move, you and Armin meet gazes again; neither one of you daring to look away, a palpable tension between you.

His eyes might be icy blue, but you can see the rose pink tint underneath his skin, even from the distance; a familiar blush that spreads across his nose and cheeks. You exhale with a silent laugh, breaking your eye contact before he grows completely red, just in time for Dr. Zöe to start the lecture.

Everybody thinks that Armin’s so brilliant, so smart, so untouchable. You know that his only genius is that he’s fooling everyone into thinking that he’s the kind, humble, little nerd boy who wouldn’t harm a fly, when that’s far from the truth.

Armin is mean. He’s competitive and possessive and snarky and sly. He’s the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you’re pretty sure the only person in the world who might believe that is Eren. Though, you’ve heard some of the insults Armin throws Eren’s way, and they’re not exactly soft. Granted, that’s a factor in any friendship, and most of his jabs are coated with a layer of intellect the brunette likely doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t make Armin any less sarcastic. It just means Eren’s too dumb to know what’s going on.

Poor kid. Maybe it’s for the best.

That’s all to say that Armin is nothing but a big talker—not even; a smooth-talker, is more like it. He comes across as perfect, all good and sweet and soft, because that’s what he lets people see. Nobody else looks through to the sharp tongue and ragged edges, because they’re too busy cooing over innocent blue-eyed baby in front of them.

But you know that Armin, the one he doesn’t want other people to see: the one that’s so good, he’s bad; so sweet that he’s sick; so nice that it’s cruel. And you know just how much pressure to apply to make his façade crack.

And you intend on doing so.

“I don’t know which formula to use—hey, are you two eye fucking again? Cut it out, I’m trying not to fail over here,” Eren exclaims, poking Armin’s shoulder with his pen.

The jab averts the blonde’s attention back to his friend, eyes wide as he blinks himself back to reality. He curses under his breath when he feels a familiar warmth creeping across his cheeks. Few things piss Armin off like the way he gets red in the face after thinking about you, or even just looking at you, for too long. Whether it’s red out of pure annoyance, or another feeling he tries to push down, it’s irritating, and above all, embarrassing.

He spares one more glance over his shoulder, to where you and Annie are sat a few tables away in the library. You’ve looked away by now, focusing back on your notes, but Armin swears he can still see that irritating smirk on your face from this angle.

He rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He should be able to keep it together around you by now, but he can’t, and it bothers him. You bother him.

“We weren’t eye fucking,” he refutes, turning his back to you completely, “She’s such a little know it all sometimes, s’annoying.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. He knows that you and Armin don’t get along, but he doesn’t understand why. Armin knows almost all your friends, and you definitely know all of his—Eren would even go as far as to say that you and him are pretty close friends—so it’s not a matter of not spending time together. You’re also the two smartest people Eren knows. In theory you should have more than enough to talk about together, but every time you’re in the same room, you hardly acknowledge each other outside of surface level commentary, or glances that border on staring.

Thankfully, the bickering remains in the classroom for the most part. Eren’s seen you and Armin go at, and he’ll be the first to admit that it’s beyond intimidating. Though, a little part of him finds it oddly entertaining, and he can’t help but to be impressed. All the more reason for you two to start playing on the same team. 

Eren thinks the two of you should get to the root of the issue already. Which, if you asked him, has very little to do with your rivaled academic genius, and a lot to do with your lack of it concerning your feelings for each other.

“She’s not that bad,” Eren vouches for you, “I think you two might get along if you ever spoke outside of trying to one-up each other in class.”

“I’m not trying to one-up anybody,” Armin rolls his eyes, a nasty habit he’s picked up as of late, “And if you stopped and used your brain for a moment, then maybe you could solve the problem.”

“I did use my brain!” Eren’s lips fall into an offended pout, “But none of this makes any sense to me! I fucking hate math, you know that.”

Armin sighs, feeling sympathetic for Eren as he slumps into himself defeatedly. He knows that Eren isn’t dumb, but math in any capacity is certainly not his strong suit. He also knows that he shouldn’t give Eren all the answers, but sometimes he needs a little push to get him there. A little bit of added guidance and motivation to keep him going. It’s either that, or he has to trick Eren into doing the work himself, but clearly that method wasn’t working out today.

“You already solved for the activation energy, now you’re supposed to use the Arrhenius equation in the expanded form.”

Eren’s lips fall into a small o-shape, as his eyes scramble across his paper again. “But—how do you—”

“There’s two measurements given for temperature.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! Okay, right, but then—”

“You have to convert it to Kelvin first or it won’t work. It’s given to you in Celsius.”

Eren furrows his eyebrows together, and then it finally clicks for him. He mutters to himself as he puts his pencil to paper to begin to work through the problem, “How do I convert—”

“Add 273.15 to it. Make sure you put the bigger one first in the equation, or else you’ll get a negative error.”

“You didn’t even do it,” Eren huffs, angrily punching numbers into his calculator, “How do you know it’s right?”

“Because I took this class already,” Armin reminds him, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, “Isn’t that why I’m tutoring you?”

Eren coughs over his embarrassed blush, “Oh, yeah, right.”

It’s quiet between them as Eren makes a final attempt at solving the equation, carefully and proudly circling his answer when he’s finished. He looks to Armin with bright eyes, and is content when the blonde gives him a reassuring nod, confirming that his answer is correct.

“Well that was a bitch to work through,” Eren sighs, stretching his arms behind his head with a slight yawn, “Chemistry is nothing but glorified math. It’s barely a science.”

Armin shrugs, but he doesn’t disagree. He isn’t the biggest fan of chemistry, unlike somebody else he knows. “Why’d you take chem if you knew it would have so much math?”

It’s Eren’s turn to shrug, slumping back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, “I gotta take all the pre-med requirements… just in case.”

“You wanna go to med school? Since when?”

Eren averts his eyes from his friend, a telltale sign of his bashfulness coming over him. It doesn’t happen often, but Armin knows it’s sincere when it does.

“Dunno. I’m not sure of it, just wanna keep my options open, you know?” Eren replies casually, “Doctors help make a difference and all that, and surgery looks kind of cool. Besides, if my bastard father could do it, how hard could it really be?”  

A gentle smile grows on Armin’s lips, “You can do it. If you really want to, I know you can.”  

Eren’s head snaps up, eyes wide and filled with affirmation and adoration. He relaxes his expression quickly after, but the pink hues are still present, “Thanks, Min.”

From his position he catches eye of another head of familiar blonde hair over Armin’s shoulder, and beside it, your own hair. There’s a flash of a moment when your eyes meet Eren’s, and you offer him a small wave before turning back to Annie to resume doing your homework. Eren barely gets the chance to wave back, but a dopey smile sits on his features at your kind gesture. It fades when he looks back to Armin, once again pondering the animosity between you two.

You and Armin aren’t all that different, you just need to get to know each other better. Actually, Eren thinks that you might make a good couple if you both stopped overthinking it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and (_____)?” Eren asks, bending his right knee to wrap his arm around his leg and rest his chin on top of it, “You act like she kicked your cat.”

“What?” Armin questions, flustered, “What—no, she wouldn’t touch Soup.” 

Eren quirks an eyebrow at that. “I still can’t believe you named your cat Soup.”

“It’s technically a nickname.”

“A nickname for what?”

“…For Miso Soup.”

Eren blinks. “Okay, if she didn’t mess with Soup, then what’s the issue? You scared of her or something?”

“Why would I be scared of her?” Armin asks, tone incredulous; then softer, more subdued, like a kid who doesn’t want to admit they’re wrong, “’M not scared of her.”

“You stare at her like you are—well, you look kind of angry, but also scared. Like, when you see those balloon things outside of car washes. You hate them, but you can’t look away from them—”

“I am not scared of those!”

“You are, and it’s okay,” Eren waves away his friend’s denial, “Oh, I get it—is this one of those things where she makes you nervous, so you respond with anger and sarcasm instead of thinking through your feelings?”

“You’ve been going to therapy for one month, relax.”

“Maybe you two should go to friend therapy and work this out,” Eren bites back, “It probably doesn’t help that she’s always with Annie. They both look like they would murder someone with no remorse. I admit, it is kind of scary… but it’s kind of hot, too.”

Armin spares him an unamused glare. Eren crosses his arms in defense, “What? I’m not wrong. It’s sexy in a scary kind of way, maybe that’s why you’re always eye fucking. I don’t blame you, she’s hot. I would let her and Annie axe-murder me without regret.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and do problem six, I don’t have all day.”

Eren huffs, but flips the page to the next problem, grumbling under his breath as he attempts the, “It’s not as sexy when you’re mean, you know.”

Armin hits him silent.

Tuesdays are Armin’s favorite days because he only has one class. Sure, it’s three hours long, but it’s much more bearable than his usual eight-hour day.

It’s also the one class he shares with you. Which is why he’s always mentally exhausted by the end of it, but physically, he feels like he could punch a wall; all his pent up anger and frustration is channeled into his body and he’s desperate for an outlet for it. It’s a feeling he hates to love.

Annie seems to have cut class today seeing as she’s not next to you; and it’s almost as if it’s emboldened you to mess with him even more than usual.

He bites his tongue as Dr. Zöe enthusiastically uses your latest point as a segue into the final topic of the evening. He made that same point ten minutes ago. You just worded it differently—admittedly, more concisely, but somehow with a little more nuance, than when he had hesitantly proposed it—and, yeah, maybe you made it sound more convincing, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t come up with it first. If his stupid, fancy stylus didn’t cost upwards of $200 he might have snapped it in half.

You’re definitely the better conversationalist, that much he can admit. Words have never been his forte and he hates the way you can talk circles around him, and that there’s so little he can say to make you stop.

He wishes you would just shut up. In fact, he’d like to shut you up himself.

Thankfully, class ends sooner rather than later. Armin finds himself briefly talking with Dr. Zöe afterwards, most other students having taken the opportunity to leave early for the night. To nobody’s surprise, you’re not one of them, having stuck around to talk to the professor, too.

“The two of you should consider lab research this summer,” Dr. Zöe suggests ardently, walking between the two of you as you exit the lecture hall, “I could really use two students like you!”

Armin chuckles at his boisterous professor. He’s known about the research opportunities at their lab for quite some time now, and he knows that you have, too. “I don’t know that lab work is really my strong suit.”

The three of you come to stop at the hallway intersection, the professor now standing across from you and him. You give them a polite smile, “And I’m not sure that collaboration is mine.”

Armin spares a glance just in time to see you flash one of your own in his direction. Dr. Zöe’s eyes flicker between the two students rapidly, a slight squint to their eyelids.

They aren’t quite sure why their two brightest students seem to despise each other. They wish you two would just get along already, so that they don’t have to spend the summer training half-witted chemical engineering majors how to use basic lab equipment; and instead, conduct some actual research.

“Well, I hope the both of you reconsider,” they smile, “I’ll see you during office hours, I presume?”

You two nod in sync, sending the doctor off with happy smile, just long enough until you see that they’ve turned the corner further down the hall

“Had fun stealing my point earlier?” Armin questions, looking your way as you still wave mindlessly, eye-twitching at your polite façade.

“I would call it improvement,” you tell him, not bothering to turn in his direction; still and smiling waving like the professor can see or hear you, “You should stick to showing, rather than saying. You never were good with your words.”

Armin kisses his teeth together. He’ll give you what you want, if that’s how you want it.

In a fit of irritation, he grabs your moving hand by the wrist, and pulls you down the opposite hallway, not caring for your dramatic wailing behind him.

“Hey, Einstein, the exit is the other way, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Ever heard of observational learning? Maybe if you shut up for a second, you would figure it out,” he snaps, pulling you further.

There’s a door on the left that Armin knows is unlocked, and he’s quick to open it and pull you inside. Before you have the chance to glance around, he has you pushed up against the wall, jaw forced up and forward.

He could scoff at the small hitch in your breath at his actions, clearly a little too satisfied with being manhandled; but instead, he takes the opportunity to press your lips together. Armin quite likes the feeling of your lips on his; warm and soft and far too welcoming; a rare moment of silence.

“Someone could hear us.”

Or not so silent.

“Then be quiet,” he snarls.

Armin feels your fingers weave themselves into his hair, scraping along his undercut in sync with his lips trailing down your jaw. A groan falls from his when he feels you tug at the ends of the strands, just hard enough to force his face back to eye level with yours.

“You’re the one with the big mouth.”

“You’re so smart, huh. Always got something to say,” Armin lets out a low chuckle, deft fingers running down your sides to squeeze at your waist, “You can be really fuckin’ annoying, you know that.”

You mirror half of his ministrations, letting your right hand trail down his chest barely brushing over the very visible bulge in his jeans, before hooking your index finger under the belt loop, effectively pulling him closer to you.

The smile on your face is dirty, but you’re not laughing like he was, “Do something about it then.”

His blue eyes grow cloudy as he takes a good look at you; slowly rakes over your features, from that stupid, snarky look in your eyes, to your kiss-bruised lips, down to your chest, and back up again. Armin finds himself copying your smirk for all the wrong reasons. But it’s your own fault; you always did like to push him one step over the edge.

“Fine.”

Despite your twisted grin there’s a look in your eyes that’s eager; willing; ready for the taking. That same look you have when you talk over him in class; when you pretend to ignore him around your mutual friends; when you want him to fuck you stupid.

Armin uses his right hand to cup your jaw again, closing the distance between your mouths with a less than gentle kiss. He feels your groans reverberating through his body, waves of heat accompanying them and going straight to his erection. Your arch your back into the kiss, but he forces you backwards, left hand flat against your tummy.

Following suit, he pushes himself against your body, pressing his knee between your legs; the thin fabric of your stockings doing little to prevent your thighs from rubbing against him.

He swipes his tongue over the seam of your lips, earning a frenzied whine when glides his tongue across yours, and teasingly licks at the roof of your mouth. Your tongue is lithe against his, but somehow just as deceptive and sly as always, and Armin would be a fool to deny that he loved it.

There’s a spark flickering in his stomach when you push your center harshly against his; and it’s only ignited further when he feels you bite his bottom lip. A guttural growl escapes him, his right hand moving to your throat with practiced ease, pushing the back of your head into the wall.

He pauses for a moment, drinks in your wide eyes and desperate visage, “You are the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

And he couldn’t get enough of it if he tried. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You must see through his words, into the grainy expression of adoration in his eyes, because he can see it filtering into yours, pupils dilating with both want and care.

“Aw, baby, I love you, too,” you pout, leaning forward as best to can to peck him on the lips, “Now, shut me up and fuck me. It’s exhausting being this pretty and smart-mouthed, you know.”

Armin dips his head into your neck, squeezes against the column of your throat with warning until he hears a gasp escape from your lips. He presses gentle kisses into your skin, in stark contrast to the increasing pressure from his fingers, waiting for one last request, and then, finally—“Please.”

He smiles, loosens his grip for a moment, just long enough to hear your pretty panting, before slotting his lips against yours again. Your moans are lewd and sloppy and breathless between kisses, and it makes his dick twitch in his pants. You really are so fucking loud. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He uses his free hand to push your skirt up, and subsequently dip past the weak barrier of your tights and underwear. The slightest flicker of his fingers against your center has you choking out a moan, and Armin is forced to press his right thumb harder against your neck.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, “You asked nicely, so I’ll give you what you want. No need to be loud about it.”

He watches you nod with short and restricted movements, a sadistic kind of power washing over him at your eager compliance. He uses his middle finger to rub slow, careful circles around your clit; the feeling of your wet cunt against his fingers, coupled with your wanton moaning only spurs on the throbbing in his pants.

“Armin,” you whine, impatiently; but he expected that of you, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes flash to yours briefly, pressing his lips to yours again to swallow your shuddered moans. He dips his tongue into your mouth at the same time he does his middle finger into your cunt. An obscene moan echoing through the classroom, as Armin feels your body arching into his again; feels your fingers frantically flying to his hair, searching for purchase to anchor yourself on.

He pulls away in time to add another digit and watch you groan underneath him. He pushes both his fingers in to the knuckle, carefully curling them upwards to elicit the prettiest sound out of you. He has to admit, it’s probably his favorite thing to hear come out of your mouth.

He keeps a steady pace, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy with perfect friction, teetering between letting you moan his name and choking you silent. Your hands are frantic in his hair, grasping and pulling and so, so, desperate, Armin can’t help but to finger fuck you harder.

“You want one more?” he questions, but his voice is taunting, words ghosted over your lips just out of reach for you to kiss.

He can feel your leg trembling against his, see you pupils shaking along with your shaking head. Armin stops to smile; he thought you might do that. He could probably make you cry right now if he wanted to. Maybe later.

“Want you to fuck me,” your words short and ragged, eyebrows raised when he uses his thumb to press lightly against your clit, “Armin, please.”

The blonde shakes his head, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna fuck you in a classroom, baby, so if you want to cum now, you better tell me.”

You have the audacity to pout of all things, “You’re mean.”

Armin lets out a breathless laugh. “You like it,” he leans forward to peck you sweetly, “So, what’ll it be?”

“Fine, but I want head later, too,” you tell him, words becoming less firm when Armin teases his ring finger against your slit, “Please.”

Armin hums in compliance, leaning forward to kiss you again, this time with more tact, and he chases your whines when he finally pushes a third finger inside of you.

“Look at you,” he croons breaking your kiss and forcing your head back again, “You take it so well.”

“Ah—fuck, there, Armin—there,” you cry, wet heat squeezing around his fingers in intermittent spasms.

Armin watches your chest heave with desperate breaths, air stuttering to pass from your lips to your lungs with his hand around your neck. He can feel your walls constricting around his fingers, feel your body shaking underneath him when he increases his pace. He curls his fingers again, just right, just until he hears you sing a strained call of his name. And when he feels your nails scraping down the nape of his neck, and the slight weight of your body convulsing, Armin knows you’re done for.

He’s nice enough to fuck you through your orgasm, shallow thrusts of his fingers bringing you to and down from your high as he watches you pant for him. He presses small kisses against your throat, up, up, up, until he’s kissing you, and carefully pulling his fingers out.

He removes his hand from your neck, and slides it down your waist to offer you support. He’s not prepared for your sudden pull on his neck, forcing him into a kiss that conveys your content; he’s quick to raise his left hand, palm meeting the wall to hold himself up against your sporadic actions, chuckling lightly into your kiss. You were always so reckless and happy after an orgasm.

You kiss him like you have him wrapped your finger despite being the one pleading moments ago. You do, so he supposes it’s not unwarranted; and he welcomes your flirtatious kisses despite the annoying blush they always bring forth.

And sure enough, he can feel his face on fire when you pull away. Armin scoffs internally at himself; he really should be able to keep it together around you by now. But when you kiss him like that, you kind of make it hard to think straight.

“You’re so good when you’re not… pretending to be good,” you hum, a blissful, hazy look on your features as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Armin shakes his head with a chortle of disbelief; leans forward to kiss you again, “’M not pretending. I am good.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good little saint that arguing with your girlfriend turns you on,” you taunt him, “It’s okay, Armin, you can admit it.”

He groans, out of shallow annoyance this time, and it makes you giggle. “Why are you acting like you’re not complicit in this?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you refute with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, “You get turned on by hearing me talk about biochemistry. I like it when you tell me to shut up about it. We are not the same.”

“Yeah, because you look hot doing it,” he tells you, “Speaking of which, Eren called you hot today, so I kind of need you to slip a neurotoxin in his Gatorade.”

“Aw, Eren thinks I’m hot? Tell him I think he’s hot, too,” you bat your eyelashes at him, but Armin only offers you an unimpressed glare in return.

“I think he might be onto us, actually,” Armin notes, affectionately bumping his nose against yours.

“If he’s onto us, then it’s because you’re the one giving it away, not me.”

“Oh, because you could never do anything wrong, right?”

“Right,” you flash him an overconfident smile before reaching up to kiss to the tip of his nose, “See you’re so smart, baby.”

Armin shakes his head again in disbelief. You’re a handful, he can see that much.

“Come on,” he prompts, “We should go, I still have to finish my lab write up, and I know you haven’t started your paper.”

Armin tries to motion you forward, but is stopped when he feels your hand combing through his hair, and sees the genuine spark of concern in your eyes. “The one for your elective? I thought you said you were going to finish it on Monday.”

“I was,” Armin admits, “But then I didn’t.”

“You want me to help you with it?” you offer kindly, pushing his bangs back and letting your hands fall down the sides of his face, palms resting against his ears.

He nods gently, turning his head to press a kiss into your left palm, before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “I can help you outline your paper.”

You nod in return, and Armin spares one more kiss, before pulling your hand away to lace your fingers together.

Thankfully, nobody’s around to catch you exiting the classroom, or see you holding hands as you make your way out of the building and towards the bus stop. This was Armin’s favorite part of any Tuesday; the one time he could hold your hand on campus without the fear of getting caught by your friends.

He reasons that you guys should probably tell them soon, though, especially if Eren might have an idea of what’s going on. You were bound to get caught sooner rather than later. That, or Eren and Sasha would start meddling.

“If you think Eren knows, then Mikasa definitely knows,” you note, swinging your intertwined hands as you walk through the parking lot as a shortcut.

“Maybe if you actually remembered to hide Soup’s toys, there would be less evidence for her to piece together.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t forget when your midterms are, I wouldn’t have to emergency cat sit the hour before Mikasa comes around, and there wouldn’t be any toys to hide in the first place.”

“I’m bad with dates, you know that!” Armin pouts, “I don’t say anything when you forget about ten page papers until four hours before they’re due.”

“You’re saying something right now, actually.”

“That’s not what I—you know, you’re so—”

Armin’s quiet when he feels your lips pressed against his cheekily, “Annoying. I know. You like it. You’re not very good at staying mad for very long.”

Armin’s tempted to roll his eyes yet again—he really needs to quit it, or at the very least, get your own temper under control before it’s irreversible and completely rubbed off on him—but takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead, instead.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your eyes twinkle under his affections. “And that you love me?”

He nods, “And that I love you.”

“And that you’re gonna fuck me before you make me write my paper when we get home, right?”

Armin chuckles and presses another kiss to your forehead, “We’ll see about that one.”

Hange huffs as they make their way through the parking. They always forget their keys in their office, and always, inconveniently park half-way across the campus. In their defense, this parking lot is free, and the one closest to the Medical Sciences building is not. So, really, capitalism is the one to blame for their frequent late night car lot strolls.

They hear two familiar voices bickering just as they’re about to step into their car, and are more than surprised to see their two favorite students walking together. Walking together and holding hands. Wait—you and Armin are walking together and holding hands?

Hange blinks for a moment, drowning out the sounds of the conversation after they see you two kiss. Their jaw practically falls to the asphalt and they might not blink for a full two minutes as they process what they just saw.

Their trance is broken when it finally, finally clicks together, and Hange has to try their hardest to contain their squeals before sitting in the driver’s seat, an overly forceful slam to the car door following. They waste no time fumbling with the pockets of their lab coat to fish out their phone, and make a call to their favorite math professor.

“Levi, I told you Arlert and (_____) had to know each other outside of class! I think they might be dating! You know what this means, right? I can have them both in the same lab without worrying they might start a chemical fire, and I won’t have to hire two brick heads this summer!”

Levi has never hung up a call more quickly in his life.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)

Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin. A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨ Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male) Word Count: 5.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.

It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.

... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.

“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.

“He was just being nice.”

“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”

I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.  

“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.

Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”

“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.

“Stop! It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not.”

Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.

“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.

I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.

Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.

“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”

But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.

“Okay ­– good.”

My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.

“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”

The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.

“You said you didn’t mind!”

In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”

When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.

As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.

“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.  

“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.

The man beside him, however, was quick to question.

“Who’s this?”

As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.

“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.

“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.

I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.

“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”

“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.

There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.

“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.  

Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.

“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”

With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.

“Ooh, is there a party?”

Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.

“No, it’s nothing.”

It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.

“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”

And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”

My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.

“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”

His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.

“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.

But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.

“Uhh...”

“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”

Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).

“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.

The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.

Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.

“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I’m very motivated?”

Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”

I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.

“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.  

Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”

But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.

I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”  

Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.

Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.

Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.

Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.

“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.

I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”

I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.

“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”

Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.

Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”

“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”

The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.

“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.  

Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”

It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.

I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.

Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.

“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”

Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.

“Double promise. Promise squared.”

“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”

I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.

“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”

I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.

“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”

“For what?” he also said through laughter.

“I— don’t know.”

Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.

Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”

So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.

Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.

I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.

 ——————————————————

 There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.

That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.

No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.

“So... Bunny.”

“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.

“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.  

“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

But that time, it was me who issued the warning.

“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”

“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”

The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.

Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”

“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.

“She’s a virgin.”

Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.

“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.

But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”

It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.

“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”

“Cut it out.”

Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”  

“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”

The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.

“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”

“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”

“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”

I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.

But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.

A fucking tease.

“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.

“Are you done?”

As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.

“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”

I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.

“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.

“Goodnight!”

Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.

But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.

Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.

As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.

Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.

“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”

I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.

It was a set of pictures.

Pictures of her.

“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”

How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.

I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.

They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.

“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”

As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.

I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.

But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.

But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.

Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.

Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.

I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.

That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.

I wanted it. I wanted her.

My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.

If I stole it from her, would it be mine?

Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?

If I ruined her, would she be mine?

I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.

She would be mine.

That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.

She would be mine.

The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.

She was already mine.

 ——————————————————

| Part Four |

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 9

WC: 1196

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: fluff?, mentions of physical disability & self consciousness, mentions of substance use

A/N: Wavy Gravy is the raddest man. I love him.

🧠

The room was beyond crowded as you stood next to Dr. Kreizler. Bitsy really wasn’t joking when she told you how chaotic these conferences get. You had already sat through one reading with him that morning. It was interesting enough.

“And you must be the famous TA Laszlo has told us all about!” came a rich bellow from behind you. You whipped around to face the man, a good head taller than you. He wore a bright smile which was so in contrast to the face of the doctor.

“Oh…?” you go to shake his proffered hand.

“John Schuyler Moore, photojournalism professor and friend of our dear alienist.”

“Oh! Yes, Dr. Moore,” nodding your head a little, you notice a much shorter blonde woman stroll up beside him. “Please, just John is fine,” he insists.

“Don’t give the poor girl a heart attack, John. Sara Howard, it’s nice to finally meet you.” You shake hands as well. She is petite, but right away you can sense a strength and poise about her. “Laszlo has told us a great deal about you.”

You glance at the man from the corner of your eye. He is giving Sara a stern look. “I see. I wasn’t aware he spoke of me.”

“He sings your praises on the regular,” she laughs.

An awkward grunt makes its way up your throat at her comment. He’s told you that your work was ‘satisfactory’ but there was no way he would go so far as to talk about you with his friends and colleagues. You figure the two are just being friendly.

“Laszlo, if I may,” John signals to another part of the room for the doctor to follow. With a nod the two men go off, leaving you with Dr. Howard.

She moves in to stand closer to your side. “I hope he’s been treating you well, Laszlo is not the easiest to deal with at times. He pays no mind to what is considered polite conversation etiquette.” At your blanching she adds “you can speak freely with me about it. He can be an ass, I’m the first to admit and call him out on it.” She smiles at you.

“Dr. Howard I’m-”

“Oh no please, call me Sara. We aren’t so far apart in age and you’re a graduate student. There is no need for formal titles.” The two of you chat for almost half an hour, mostly on the topic of the doctor before the men rejoin you. You don't speak as you would with Bitsy, but you find it very easy to trust and confide in Sara. John looks rather pleased with himself upon his return. You do catch the slight wink he gives Sara. Dr. Kreizler, on the other hand, appears as though he’s been told he needs a root canal.

The four of you spend the next couple hours perusing the new selections and attending a few of the reading demonstrations. John is almost like a dog, you think, overly friendly and does his best to include you in the conversations the trio have. Sara communicates with you through her facial expressions and eye rolls at the men. You are certain you even hear the doctor crack a joke or two. You carry the tote bag of books that Kreizler has purchased, despite John repeatedly attempting to assist. It’s good that the doctor has people like them, you think.

Sara and John eventually excused themselves for the night. Around 8pm the doctor turns to you. “There is a reading on a new monograph about Woodstock that starts in fifteen minutes. I have put our names on the list.”

You blink at him. “Woodstock. Like sex, drugs, and rock & roll, Woodstock '69, Woodstock?”

“Is there another?” He lifts his brows in exasperation as he considers you.

“No? Doesn’t sound like something you’d be into, though,” you argue lightly.

“Not particularly. But I thought you would find it useful towards your own studies. I know you are fond of it.”

A faint flutter broke out in your gut at his words. Never in your life had you thought this man would care enough to think of you and your own interests, especially not when this trip was for his own benefit. You had assumed you would need to beg to be let off for a few hours to seek out the history and sociology seminars. Time had frozen as you stared at him.

Maybe he did care?

“Are you alright?” he finally asked, concerned.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. That sounds really great, thank you.”

Dr. Kreizler guides you to the proper hall and you find your seats. The space was more cramped than you were overall comfortable with. Or rather, you were uncomfortable due to the proximity in which you and the professor sat. At least that is what you told yourself.

The room was packed, chairs placed tightly together. You sat to his right side. It was close enough that you could smell the cologne he wore; something spicy and citrusy and intoxicating. Barely a hair's breadth separated you from each other. He was warm against you. Often your thighs would touch, or even his weaker arm along your own. You could just feel the boney limb through your sleeves, which often hid how skinny it truly was compared to his left side. If it bothered him he gave no indication.

Midway through you lean close to his ear. “You know, the whole concept shouldn’t have worked. It was fucked from the get go. They literally had everything working against them, the rain, the traffic, the lack of sanitation, food. Wavy Gravy and his posse really made all the difference. When things got rough he was able to use psychoanalysis techniques to encourage the new social ideals of free love and the 'cooperative', reminding everyone why they were there in the first place. He appealed to the collective psyche of the counterculture movement. The whole thing is insane!”

You don’t notice how close you had gotten to him as you spoke, your chest was nearly pressed against his shoulder. At first you touching along his bad arm made him want to instinctually pull away. As you spoke you were still facing the stage, paying no mind to the feel of it. It quelled his anxiety that you didn't seem to care. So Laszlo had tilted his head closer towards you as you whispered. He found that your eyes were lit up similar to when you would argue with him. But this time it wasn’t because you were annoyed at him - this time it was because you were passionate and excited - and it was breathtaking.

You face him when he doesn't respond; only a few inches separate you. His eyes lock with your own. A beat passes and he doesn't look away. "What?" you ask. Maybe you had offended him by speaking during the lecture?

Laszlo gathers himself. "It seems you have been paying attention during my lectures.” He smirks.

You face back forward in hopes that he doesn’t see the heat in your cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself too much, professor.” You can feel his silent chuckle.

Tag list

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[auswriteforyou]

Undeserving. (Ethan Choi, Chicago Med)

It was burned into her brain. Medically speaking, she knew that was impossible. She knew memories were less medical and more mental. Maybe she should schedule an appointment with Dr. Charles. Maybe he could get the memory of her husband having sex with April in an exam room on the 4th floor while she was doing life-saving surgery down the hall out of her head.

She understood the location choice. It was rarely used, the only time they made it up there was when no other bay was available. She had left the room feeling incredible. It was a difficult situation, one that required far too much attention and far too little preparation was given but it had come out with the best possible outcome. She wanted to find Ethan immediately, tell him what she’d accomplished and about the patient she’d grown close to in this process. She didn’t expect to find him in the exam room she heard a crash come from.

She had figured it was just a patient having wondered from their room but no. It was such a nightmare that she had no reaction to it at all. The scramble of them untangling, the sound of scrubs being pulled on and apologies falling on empty ears.

She filed the divorce papers the next day. She put in her transfer request that afternoon. He refused to sign them. Imagine that. He was unfaithful for months, treated her like a stranger for months, literally had sex with her best friend and now he won’t sign the damn paperwork. And here she was, almost a year later of talking only through an attorney from her very expensive law firm in New York because she didn’t even want to hear his voice.

But she was tired of wasting money and her efforts on getting someone as stubborn as him to do anything without getting what he wanted first. She pulled on her big girl pants this morning and decided that today was a good day for a whole lot of baggage. She boarded her plane, she landed, she came straight to the hospital and she was Pissed. The week long vacation she had been planning to Bermuda had been interrupted for this.

“No way.” Will Halstead greeted her at the door, eyes bright and smile shiny. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Do I look that bad?” She smiled, knowing damn well she looked like a four course meal. She’d used this year to become someone she was proud to recognize, to grow the pain and assert herself in ways she never dreamed she would. She was a chairwoman on more boards than she could count. Lead cardiologist in the most sought after position in the most sought after hospital in the world. She knew who she was, she was sure of it.

“Honestly, you’re smoking hot.” He knew how to make a girl feel special. “Do I wanna know why you’re here? You looked like you were about to walk through the walls.”

She held up the file folder, a grimace on her face and he didn’t need any more context clues. They’d all heard the stories, how the papers got served to him in the middle of a surgery and the refusal to sign or send them back on his part. It was annoying honestly.

“Help a girl out, where might I find him?”

“Surgery Room 1.” Oh, good. He wouldn’t be able to run away.

The gallery was almost full, apparently a good surgery in their books. Thankfully, she’d timed it just right that they were beginning to close. She greeted her old coworkers, offering quick hellos and we’ll catch ups because she was always a business first kind of lady.

Ethan stepped more into view and that flutter she remembered from the first time they met flew into her chest. Had he managed to get more attractive? Her finger pressed the intercom. She cleared her throat.

“Ethan, if you don’t sign these papers you’re going to be the one who needs to be sewn up.” His head snapped at the speed of light to her in the gallery. She could tell it took him a minute to recognize her, or to make sure she was actually there. Could have been a mixture of both.

“Darling?” She rolled her eyes, waving the papers at him.

“Meet me at my car when you’re done. Bring a pen.”

He did not, in fact, bring a pen. He barely found her because he wasn’t expecting the Lamborghini rental car. He climbed into the passenger seat, eyes  never leaving her face. It was kind of creepy.

“How have you been?” She snorted.

“A year of putting me through the political ringer and that’s what you start with?” She tossed the papers in his lap, trying not to let him see the hurt she still had lingering in her eyes. “Sign these. Please.”

“Talk to me.” He was quick to rebuttal. “Please. Let’s just have one conversation. I’ve spoken to no one but your lawyer for months.”

“Exactly Ethan,” He cringed at the lack of nickname, “I didn’t think I had to spell it out how much I didn’t want to talk with you.”

“Please.” He knew he had no right to ask her for anything but she was here on a mission. She wasn’t leaving without a resolution. “How have you been?”

“I’m head of Cardiology in New York, I have a dog, I bought a new car and recently found out I am allergic to fish. How’s April?” That was a low blow. She knew it, he knew it but she traveled far too many miles to not get her little jabs in.

“She moved away, I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her since that day.” At least he was honest. She used to pride herself on being able to tell when he was lying but after all that, she didn’t know what she knew.

“Awesome, glad to know it was all for nothing. Now that we’re all caught up, sign them.”

“No.”

“Ethan, the next option is to have it annulled by the court in which they give me half of everything you have.”

“You were the only thing I had that ever mattered.” She felt her mouth drop open, felt like he had slapped her in the face.

“You’re kidding right? That’s how you treat the most important thing in your life then? I’d hate to be the things you hate. Honestly, fuck that.”

“I fucked up, I take full responsibility. I won’t gaslight, I won’t say you did anything wrong because you didn’t. I was weak, I was the one who sought out something new because I was afraid of my own insecurities as a man, as a husband. I thought I would never be good enough for you and I set out to prove it. It’s not that you made me feel that way or made me feel like I should be more, I just convinced myself I wasn’t.”

It was silent for a long moment, the damage between them beginning to sew itself back up because, for once, he was opening up to her.

“I fought tooth and nail for us, from dating to engagement to marriage. I fought for you when your brain fought against you. I fought for you when you couldn’t fight for yourself. And at the first sign of me healing myself, of me choosing myself for once, you ran off with my best friend because you both felt insecure about things out of anyone’s control.”

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. That’s the worst part. It’s the worst part because I took all the respect, all the trust, love, compassion you gave me and stomped on it. I treated you with such disregard and disrespect that it makes me sick and darling,” She looked at him for the first time since they decided to open up, “I am truly sorry.”

She stared at him for a long moment, the anger from earlier finding a lighter lull in her chest as she searched for any sign of a lie. She’d reinvented herself, made herself stronger through becoming who she had always wanted to be. He had reinvented himself by realizing where his mistakes were and how to better himself to be who he wanted, needed to be. She wondered for a moment if he was coming to the same realization as her. They weren’t the same people they had been. They had grown, sprouted leaves and vines and built themselves up from the roots.

“I forgive you.” Out of all the things to come out of her mouth, neither of them expected that.

“What does that mean?” His voice was almost a whisper, his fingers that had saved many lives toying with the edges of the file folder.

“It means we talk,” She took the folder from him, tossing it into the backseat without care. “And we figure out what this means, we don’t lie to each other and we try. Both of us this time. I can’t float this relationship, whatever it is or is not, we have to be on the same page.”

He looked at her like she’d put the stars in the sky, sewn him up with the tidal waves and took them to the moon. She wondered if he’d keep looking at her like that. It didn’t scare her to think that he would. They didn’t kiss, they didn’t jump into each others arms and scream at the top of their lungs about love and happiness. They let their pinkies brush over the console, their hearts and minds race at the thought of whats to be built and allowed themselves to begin to grow, with each other.

--

it’s been a hot minute but my fingers started tapping and that was that! This was a request from an Anon that I was happy to fill. I hope you enjoy, I apologize for the wait. It’s also been a LOOOOOOng time since watching the show, I don’t have any plot lines. I don’t even know who is still on it, hopefully I was vague enough to not deviate too far off script. (also I didn’t get to proofread this, I'm sorry). Thank you for requesting and happy new year!

[jamespotterthefirst]

Enchant Me

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.5K (sorry!) Warning: None  Author’s Note: AU where Ethan is the one asking MC questions for the fMRI scan (book 1, ch 6).

Catch up here.

_____________

Green eyes meet his briefly before hurriedly glancing away, the movement so fleeting that he could have attributed it to his imagination. Except, the way his stomach flutters as a result is very real and very annoying to Ethan. When at last he forces his treasonous mind to the task at hand, he determines she is nervous, the tense energy radiating from her almost palpable in the bright imaging lab. 

Guilt takes root in his stomach as he begins to regret asking this of her. The flimsy request for her help, blurted out after he reluctantly turned down her party invitation, seems downright embarrassing now. What the hell had he been thinking? 

He pauses to consider that therein lies the problem: He hadn't been thinking. What a dangerous and inane side effect of being in her presence. What a humbling yet disconcerting notion that all it takes to disarm an intelligent, highly educated man is a pair of clever, emerald eyes, a lovely dusting of freckles, and a pretty smile. 

Ethan opens his mouth to offer himself up as the subject instead, but Lilac gives him a brave, determined half smile. Her cheeks flush and he can see the visible effort she spends in getting the words out. “There is no dignified way of saying this, so please don't fire me,” she begins, not looking at him. 

“I won't fire you for changing your mind, Rookie.”

Lilac shakes her head. “It's not that. It's just that I'll need an injection of the magnetic contrast media…” Her eyes swivel to meet his pointedly, as though expecting him to catch her meaning from it. 

Ethan is not following and that much must be evident in his face because she sighs. 

“I can't have any metal on me,” she continues, face growing bright pink to the root of her dark hair. “So I'll have to remove my bra.”

Silence. 

“I… Erm... That's…” Ethan's ears flare with heat, his throat feeling suddenly dry. “That's true. I'll leave the room.”

“No need,” she assures him, already peeling off her coat. Before Ethan can even react, she reaches behind her back and under her blouse. 

He is momentarily frozen, eyes watching her expertly work the clasps, before hastily turning his back on her and busying himself with the gadolinium. The way his heart clamors wildly at his ears is guarantee enough of the sinful thoughts his mind will torture him with later, thoughts of Lilac undressing in many different ways for him. 

Get it together, Ramsey. 

“I'm ready,” she announces to his sheer relief. 

That relief is short-lived, however, when his eyes catch a glimpse of the lacy, bright red garment on the floor, unsuccessfully concealed by her discarded lab coat. Every inch of his traitorous body reacts on sight, reducing him to just another weak-willed man, uninhibited by the mere sight of a bra. 

Lilac, meanwhile, watches him from where she lays on the table, decent enough in her loose fitting blouse. That lopsided smirk of hers makes a reappearance and it only makes his thoughts sputter further. 

“Stay still,” he manages to instruct, his voice quiet and gentle. 

When his fingers palpate the veins in her arms, Ethan struggles to think of much else but the feel of her soft skin against his, incinerating his fingertips. He makes the mistake of meeting her eyes, finding that all traces of humor are long gone as she watches him, lips slightly parted. A white hot current of tension crackles between them, dangerous and capable of consuming him whole. With a surge of recklessness, he finds that he wants it to. The blazing look she fixes him with makes Ethan wonder if she wants it too. 

Swallowing hard, Ethan forces himself to glance away. 

After a brief pause, she teases, “You do know how to perform an intravenous injection, don't you?” 

“Ha. Ha,” he returns sarcastically. Her own genuine laughter rings around the imaging lab. 

Ethan injects her with ease and presses the button to slide the table inside the magnet enclosure, hiding that infuriatingly distracting smile from view. Soon after, he sits at the workstation, checking on Lilac through the glass and powering up the magnet. 

“How's it looking up there, Doc?” 

“Like a brain,” he says dryly. 

“So...average?” 

“Very average.” 

“Ouch.”

Ethan allows a resigned grin, shaking his head and feeling a wide lightness spread in his chest. Silence ensues after their banter and he realizes she waits for his question. 

A thrill shoots through his core at the ocean of possibilities before him. At last, he can catch a true glimpse of the mystery she has proven to be. Isn't that what he longs to know the most ? Isn't the enigma that is Lilac Allende the true allure for him? Isn't that the reason he can't stop thinking about her? 

He can ask anything, and finally know the answer. 

“Do you prefer cats or dogs?” 

There is an anticlimactic pause and Ethan wants to slam his head against the console. 

Really, Ethan? Cats or dogs? 

Lilac is silent, so silent Ethan wonders if the speaker system is working. 

“That's the type of question you have for me?” 

Ethan rolls his eyes. “Just answer it, Rookie.”

The image shows activity in the temporal lobe at the use of the nickname. 

“I like them both,” she answers before Ethan can interpret the previous reading. “Though dogs tend to love me almost instantly.”

An uninvited mental image of Jenner, paws on her chest, tail wagging at blurring speed upon meeting her, crosses his mind. Ethan dismisses it as an impossibility, unable to think of a scenario where both creatures would meet. 

“We have a family dog back in LA named Lobo,” she continues. 

“Wolf?” 

“The third,” she adds cheerfully. “My parents name all of our dogs Lobo or Oso.”

The memory elicits notable activity in the hippocampus. Ethan is unable to see her face but he finds the reminiscent lull of her voice utterly endearing. Catching his own reaction with a flare of annoyance, he dismisses it, clears his throat, and moves on to the next question. 

“What inspired you to become a doctor?” 

The longest pause yet befalls them. Already there is activity in the right temporal cortex, peaking his own curiosity. Every second that she doesn't answer is agony. 

Finally, she says, “Pass.”

“Excuse me?” 

“I pass on this question. I plead the fifth.”

“Overruled.”

“You can't do that,” she protests, though he can hear the laughter in her voice. 

“Just answer the question, Rookie.”

There is a loaded, tense silence that slowly tapers to a boiling point, then—

“You.” 

Ethan blinks, speechless. 

“Don't you remember?” she says, an edge of embarrassment dripping from her voice. “You signed Landry's book for me.”

“Who?” he blurts out. Not waiting for an answer, he asks, “Wait, so you didn't keep that book, Rookie? I am offended.”

“No, my copy is much more worn, annotated, and well-loved,” she explains with a chuckle. 

A small whirlwind of emotions takes root in Ethan, who is still at a loss for words. 

“In a literal sense, your research inspired me to go to med school,” she continues, interpreting his silence as encouragement to go on. “I read your book from cover to cover as an undergrad and was so inspired, for once in my life I knew where I had to go. I wanted to be here, at Edenbrook, working alongside the best.” 

Ethan's throat is tight as he listens, the activity in the scan completely forgotten. 

“The more sentimental reason I was inspired to be a doctor is, of course, my parents.” Lilac pauses and clears her throat as a pretense. “They– They came to this country in pursuit of a better life, leaving their family and everyone they loved behind. All to be in a brand new place, not knowing the language or the culture, often taking up backbreaking jobs for miserable pay...to be looked down by many as inferior. All that sacrifice, for us.” Her voice cracks at the last few words. It takes her a moment to recover. “That sacrifice drove me through my worst days in medical school. It's what drives me today.”

She says this with a renewed, fierce pride that evokes a surge of admiration from him. It tears through his chest unlike anything he has ever experienced before, but then again, she is unlike anything he had ever seen before. Wildly, he wishes they were sharing something so precious face to face. His hand flexes reflexively as his mind imagines sweeping a thumb across the ridge of her cheekbone. 

“If not a doctor, what career would you have chosen?” He is surprised by the gentleness of his own voice, the sound foreign to his ears. 

When she speaks, she sounds almost like her usual, cheeky self. “A beauty guru.” 

“A what?” 

“It's people online filming their makeup routines.”

Ethan has never heard of anything so pointless in his life. “Be serious.” 

“I am! There might still be some videos online of my failed attempts,” she says, laughing. “But in terms of a realistic career, I would've probably chosen to be a homicide detective or a forensic pathologist.”

He raises his eyebrows at this, stunned for a moment at their shared interest in detective work. “Why?” 

Lilac mulls over her answer in a characteristic silence. “Obviously, there is the allure of gathering evidence and solving a mystery.” A deliberate pause, then—“But I always thought that was a bit selfish.” 

“Selfish?” 

Ethan can't help the outburst. After all, connecting the pieces of an unknown puzzle is precisely why he once considered that career. 

“Yes, some doctors want to deliver the perfect diagnosis in a self-congratulatory way. To help the patient, yes, but to walk away with the gratification of having conquered a mystery.”

His itch to argue is quelled by his curiosity and so he says nothing. 

“I wanted to be a detective to solve the mystery as a way to fight for the voiceless.” Her voice drops to almost a whisper as she admits this. With a rush of satisfaction, Ethan realizes he is probably the first one hearing this reasoning. “There is something sick about being able to name notorious serial killers without a problem, but we can't do the same for their victims. They are the ones whose stories should be told, whose memories should be celebrated. They are the ones who deserve the accolades and the justice of finally solving that mystery.”

Ethan has no rebuttal for the first time in his life. 

As his brain struggles to reconcile the young doctor's words with the inexplicable thundering of his pulse, Lilac laughs. 

“No offense, Dr. Ramsey, but I was expecting a different line of questioning here.”

Ethan forces himself to recover. “How so?” 

“If I were asking you questions, I'd be a lot noisier,” she says, unabashed.

Ethan allows a chuckle. “That's not surprising,” he comments. “What type of questions would you be asking?” 

“I don't know…” She trails off pensively. “Maybe your type?”

Ethan's mouth goes slack. He recovers enough to say something, though he is not sure what. Luckily, he doesn't have to know because she continues, “I'd definitely ask about relationships, past and current.”

By this point, his heartbeat is an uproar in his hearing. The brash comments should be concerning coming from a subordinate but he feels like a fraud when he considers chastising her. Though he would never admit it out loud, the answers to those questions intrigue him to the point of restlessness. 

“Fine,” he allows quietly. “Answer those.”

A surprised little laugh comes through the speakers. “Really?” 

“Yes, let the record show this was your idea, Rookie,” he says in what he hopes is a casual tone. “What was the first one you mentioned? Ah, yes—What's your type?” 

The image of her brain activity, which Ethan had forgotten to glance at until that moment, lights up at the amygdala. An emotional response. 

He can sense the reluctance in her silence. 

“Tall. Definitely taller than me,” she begins at long last, her voice dignified, as though she is forcing herself to push past any bashfulness. “Dark hair.”

The answer is exasperatingly vague. The descriptors easily fit the surgical intern he saw her kiss all those weeks ago and the muscular paramedic who glances at her with besotted eyes every chance he gets. 

“Intelligent,” she continues. 

The diagnostician in him almost discounts Lahela on the sole basis of being a surgical intern. 

Lilac clears her throat so subtly, he almost attributes it to static in the speakers. “Someone with a dry sense of humor and sarcastic to a fault,” she says, a lot softer now. “Someone who can keep me on my toes.”

The scan displays activity in the frontal lobe, similar to what he saw when he called her “Rookie”. The small media room, despite having the air conditioner at full blast, feels suddenly sweltering. 

“What did I say next for my questions?” she asks, saving his mind from traveling a dangerous path. 

“Relationships.” 

“Right,” she says with an exhale. 

Ethan says nothing, afraid even the slightest sound will discourage her. 

“Past relationships are… complicated and mercifully ancient history.” On his screen, he sees the most activity yet. A visible reaction in the right hippocampus, the amygdala, both sides of the prefrontal cortex, and the insular cortex— undeniable anger. 

Lilac, however, does not elaborate any further. Instead, she hurries on, “Current relationships are also complicated, frustrating, and nonexistent.” 

The words hang between them, like a pendulum. He is convinced they carry more meaning but Ethan's own brain feels abuzz with activity, too tumultuous to formulate follow up questions. When his eyes fall on the clock, he notes they have been at this for almost an hour. 

“I think we're done here,” he says. 

He leaves the media room, deliberately pausing outside the imaging lab to give Lilac enough time to put all of her clothes back on. By the time he enters the room, she is throwing on her coat, hands raking through her shiny hair. 

“Everything working okay?” 

“Like a charm,” he responds, mind still spinning. 

An incessant stab of dread begins to pierce through him as they prepare to go back to work. His mind wanders to Naveen, weak and alone in his room, and icy twines of fear take root deep in Ethan’s stomach once again. 

“Thank you… for the assistance.”

Lilac flashes him an easy smile. “Any time.”

Ethan manages an awkward nod turning to leave. Something powerful holds him back before he can take another step. As full fledged panic about facing Naveen's new symptoms grips him, he wants nothing more than to confide in her. 

He stops and turns to face her. 

Lilac tilts her head to one side, watching him curiously. 

The magnitude of what he is about to do hits him like a train and his newfound courage vanishes at once. With a grimace, he waves the idea off and exits the room. 

______

Author’s Note: A HUGE thank you to everyone who sent me questions Ethan could ask. I tried my best to include them here. 

“Do you prefer cats or dogs?”-- @drethanramslay

“What inspired you to become a doctor?” -- Anon and @scorpiochick8

“If not a doctor, what career would you have chosen?” @scorpiochick8

The not so subtle questions about her love life-- @eramsey28

Answering the career question wit banter, then with a serious answer. -- @whippedforethanramsey 

Ethan’s slightly jealous thoughts about Bryce and Raf-- @schnitzelbutterfingers 

Sorry if I didn’t include all requests! This would have been 20 pages long if I hadn’t trimmed some of it lol. 

I swapped some of the dialogue from the original. Also, I’m so sorry to @takeharryandgo​ for the horrible brain science here. Forgive me, Doc.

What Lilac said about her parents is exactly how I feel about mine. So I just had to include that here.  

Finally, I intend to continue these from Ethan’s POV. However, for personal reasons, I will keep my next few projects under wraps. 

______

Tags:  @openheart12​ | @ethandaddyramsey​ | @noboundariesplease​ | @silverlitskies​ | @infinitiestones | @flyawayboo​ | @paulfwesley​ | @hatescapsicum​ | @myusualnerdyself​ | @thatysn​ | @choicesyouplayandmore​ | @chasingrobbie​ | @trappedinfandoms​ | @togetherwearerapture​ | @nooruleman​ | @caseyvalentineramsey​ | @axwalker​ | @parkerattano​ | @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ | @kaavyaethanramsey​ | @edith-eggs1​ | @choices-lurker​ | @jens-diamondchoices​ | @tefigranger​ | @ethanrcmsey​ | @coffeebeandragon​ | @senator-adrian-raines-wifey​ | @aestheticartwriting​ | @binny1985​ | @mvalentine​ | @sanchita012​ | @drethanramslay​ | @ramseysno1rookie​ | @takeharryandgo​ | @aworldoffandoms​ | @desmaranj​ | @ josieplayschoices | @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor | @oofchoices​ | @ethxnrxmsey​ | @octobereighth​ | @colossalpainintheass | @kopenheart12​ | @lilyvalentine​ | @honeyandsunfl0wers​ | @virtualrain202 | @enmchoices​ | @tyrilstouch​ | @rookie-ramsey​​

@dulceghernandez |  @lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, Mockingbird.”

Based on a request I received in my asks for some fluff. I think you guys will like it, or at least I hope you do :) 

He couldn’t  remember much of the last few days. Everything was a blur of motion, pain and dizziness. He couldn't tell if he was staying up or lying down or running in circles or spinning inside an F-90 Darkfire going nine times faster than the speed of sound. It felt like he was constantly pulling almost 9-Gs staying awake was impossible, but at the same time, so was falling asleep.

He felt horrible, sick.

He thought he remembered throwing up a few times, but he could have been wrong.

However, he did remember the aching, a pain that throbbed through his body like he had a horrible flu. His muscles ached, his bones ached, his blood might as well have ached. Everything around him echoed, the lights pulsed in and out. 

He was nauseous and so very, very cold.

The shivering ache in his bones did nothing to help the horrible throbbing of his muscles, especially the muscles in his back.

He thought he heard voices a few times, mingling with the echoes and spinning with the lights over his head. The world began to spin to his left, and he tried controlling the nausea like he would in the cockpit of a jet, but for some reason all his normal tricks weren’t working. His stomach churned.

He fell in and out of consciousness.

His eyes opened and then closed. He was on his side, or at least he thought he was. The nausea wasn’t so bad anymore, but his mouth tasted horrible.

He closed his eyes against the spinning.

He was falling backwards now.

And he was so so tired. His head was resting against something soft, now something hard. More voices echoed.

He tried to make them out, but every time he did he only felt more horrible, more nausea building up on his insides.

“Anything.” The voice faded in and out plunging downward, deepening and stretching out for long minutes forcing him to miss the rest of the conversation. He tried to open his eyes, and was almost immediately blinded. The lights above his head warped and twisted stretching one way and then flattening in the other direction.

Then it doubled and they began to dance back and forth against each other.

“Adam.”

The sound echoed in his head as if it had been yelled into a narrow canyon.

He had trouble remembering what the sounds meant.

His head was throbbing.

More lights.

He flinched away squeezing his eyes shut and immediately fell back in. The nausea overcame him again followed by the dizziness and the vertigo until he couldn’t open his eyes.  He spun back and forth and back and forth his muscles aching, his body throbbing. The shivering got worse , and it wouldn’t have mattered if there were blankets or not. 

He just felt so horrible.

That could have gone on for an eternity as far as he knew. An eternity of spinning, bright lights and echoing voices  interspersed with uneasy moments of sleep characterized by horrific nightmares. Nightmares that contained faceless monsters, strange alien creatures and his own inevitable failure.

And then he fell asleep, finally.

It started off in small bouts of silent restfulness, a deep and soothing darkness that relaxed his body and calmed his mind. When he floated towards the surface, almost awake, he could hear voices, and thought that he could at least understand them.

“How is he today, doc?”

“He’s doing better, sleeping more. The drugs took a real toll on his system. I doubt the admiral was entirely correct about what exactly was in those drugs.”

“He’s lucky to have you. He wouldn’t have survived the overdose otherwise.”

And then he was gone again, sinking back down,

He would have had no way of knowing how long he was out, and when he woke up again, just a little clearer than last time, he heard.

“Why not a medically induced coma, at least then he wouldn’t be in pain.”

“I determined that this was the safer decision in the state he is in. Don’t worry, things are slowly getting easier. He’s sleeping hours at a time now.”

Another voice, “no more vomiting, though that may be just because he’s running on empty.”

He let himself sink away this time, finding that he was getting better at controlling it. He stayed longer this time, curled up in the safety of the darkness where it was warm, and pain free. However, this time he was woken up by a voice.

“Dr. Katie thinks you might be able to hear us. Says you sort of drift in and out.” Though the ache in his body was still there the familiarity of the voice eased his mind, “It was…. An honor to fight with you. I only wish it could have been under better circumstances..” A hand rested on his upper arm, “For a human, you make a pretty good Drev.” 

Something warm touched his hand, or at least he thought it was his hand. When it pulled away his hand was wet.

“Waffles misses you. We haven’t been able to move her without her getting really agitated.” Something soft caressed against his fingers, a soft whimpering pulsing through the air. Soft waves of air to caress his ears. 

He tried to open his eyes, but the dizziness hit him again and, suddenly, he could hardly function. He sunk away again occasionally aware of a furry, warm snout nudging his hand as he slept.

“Hey, Commander…. Adam. yeah anyway, Sunny thinks we should talk to you, so Mav and I are here….er Ramirez.”

“So eloquent.”

“Shut up it's not like he’s expecting a soliloquy, what do you want me to do compose shakespeare.”

“I’d Like to see that.”

“Shut up, anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted/, we are, the crew i mean, are all rooting for you, and we will be here when you’re ready to wake up. Also, please wake up, the spiderlings haven't stopped freaking out since you went under. I can’t exactly tell if they are crying or not but they are making some weird ass noises…. How about you Mav, you got anything to say?”

“Just if you don’t wake up in the next week, I am going to shake you awake and kick your bitch ass for making us wait so long. I am not a patient person.”

“As empathetic as always Mav.”

This time he felt as if he had been asleep for longer, feeling rather than hearing people pass through. He recognizes some return offenders, though some of them were there for a purpose.

“You know, Comm- I mean, Adam. Sometimes I blame you for making me more human. You took away one of the things that made my life easy, and then you gave me empathy. Now I, well having my friends gone hurts. It doesn’t make any logical sense from a proper Vrul standpoint .But you made me into…. Not much of a vrul anymore . You gave me empathy, and friends, and a social life…..” silence, “And I fucking hate it…. But at the same time I don’t. You hear that, I both hate it and don’t hate it at the same time like that is possible. I’m making as much sense as a human .”

More drawn silence.

“Look, I know what you said and how you acted in the suit weren’t you, but I just….. I need….. … I need you to wake up, so I know, so I know that everything is ok between us. The anticipation is killing me more than anything.”

He felt warm inside, and the shivering was dying down. He supposed that was a good thing, and following that moment he thought he might have slept the entire night through, though he could still tell that opening his eyes was going to be a problem. When he awoke, he awoke to a melody, someone signing quietly.

He recognized it, a distant memory from and even more distant childhood.

The song must have been thousands of years old, and for that reason it was….. Sweet.

“Still gets me today that a thousand years ago someone’s mother was singing their baby to sleep with that.”

A soft hand on his.

A gentle touch at the IV in his arm, “Hope you don't mind me singing to myself, or talking. I don’t usually do it when krill is around, he wouldn’t understand. Or maybe he would, but…. It feels weird. I was pretty weird you know, never really figured out why. Guess that’s what I get for wanting to be a librarian when I was little. Became a doctor instead, “ Dr Katie  laughed, “My how things change. Its honestly crazy to me you ended up with the exact job you wanted….. Bet you didn’t think it would be this hard ....” She trailed off, and there was silence for a long time before she began to sing to herself again.

Her voice wove patterns through his dreams

Hush little baby don’t say a word

Moma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

He spun slowly around and around in circles descending downward.

And if that mockingbird don’t sing 

The warmth grew back up around him, enfolding him from all sides like the embracing arms of a lover.

Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.

He could have slept for days after that dreaming on and off barely knowing what was real and what was inside his head. The world didn’t spin anymore, and his body only ached slightly. The nausea was simply a general discomfort through his darkness, and he could ignore it easily enough.

“You better wake up soon. Seems like you have been in here long enough.”

Was that Conn? 

Couldn’t be.

“You dirty rat bastard.” Nope that was him alright, “I expect you get out here soon….. It is rather lonely in my head….”

Other hands, other voices, other confessions, some cold some warm, felt through his insides like each person was pouring liquid of different temperatures into his blood, pumping through his chest and heart. 

Eventually, the world stopped spinning completely, the echoes died away, and he was left alone in his own head finally with the ability to think consciously, as conscious as he was between bouts of sleep. The nausea was still there, but it might have been due to hunger more than anything else.

The next time he woke up, things were different. The last time it had been as if he was rising through dark water only to be separated from the surface by a pane of one way glass he couldn’t crack.

This time, the pane of glass was gone, and light and sounds poured in around him.

He first became aware of sound, the quiet muttering of conversation, the beeping of machines, and the clattering of tools. Someone was laughing distantly.

Secondly, he was aware of a weight pressed against his side. It was soft and warm, and as he lay there he felt it move. Something rested on his stomach, just under his chest. Whatever it was let off a long drawn out sigh and a yawn.

Lastly , there was light.

For a second he thought he had gone partially blind, but realized his eyes were still closed.

He stayed like that for a little bit, adjusting before.

Flexing his fingers.

And immediately noticed the absence of the steel eye armor.

The relief was incredible. 

His hands were stiff, and the joints ached a little, but slowly he was able to open his hand.

Moving was harder, and it brought back the muted ache from earlier.

His fingertips brushed over sheets as his hand moved up brushing fur, and the warm muscled body underneath.

He stroked a hand through Waffle’s fur.

The lifted her head in surprise, then, with a whimper scooted forward resting her head on his chest nosing him with her snout.

He lifted his hand to stroke her ears.

She licked once as his face catching him in the jaw with her warm slimy tongue.

There was a creaking noise just to his side, “Hey, Girl, everything alright?”

The dog whimpered.

Whoever it was stood.

“Krill.” 

He tried opening his eyes flooded with light before blinking. The dog whimpered again.

He turned his head from the lights trying to blink away the haze.

“Adam. Can you hear us?”

He blinked a few more times squinting against the light until the world around him slowly resolved, light fading backwards.

First, he saw the ceiling, and the overhead lights, curtain rods with the curtains pulled open, an IV bag, medical machines. Looking down he saw his own feet under blankets, and finally the warm worried eyes of his dog. The look she gave him was one of such sincere concern  that, for a moment, he was worried he might be dying. Upon making eye contact she scooted even further forward resting one paw on his chest  snuffling at his face and licking him across the cheek.

“Easy girl.” someone said 

He turned his head a little further brows still furrowed falling on a familiar spidery form floating to the side.

“Adam?” Krill said again.

It took him a few seconds to understand turning his head to the other side where a tall blue figure was standing her gold eyes struck with worry.

He turned his head back to Krill.

“We’re good.”

The dog continued to nuzzle at him rubbing her head against his shoulder trying to get his attention. Overhead the two aliens relaxed visibly, “What was that?”’ Krill asked leaning forward to look him over.

“You wanted to know….. If we were still good…..” Trying to talk past his dry nasty tasting mouth was unpleasant. He smacked his lips, “And I wanted to say that we are.”

The relief broke even further.

Krill was speechless.

Sunny laughed in relief, or at least the equivalent for a Drev.

Dr. Katie poked her head around from the right side curtain, “You’re awake!”

He had both hands up now patting the dog’s ears as she frantically nuzzled forward tail slapping against the bed railing. His right hand was taped up, the tube of an IV sticking into his hand.

He was still very fuzzy and tired.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Better than…. I was…. Before.” A light flicked from one eye to the other, and he squinted, “Hey…” Even his mechanical eye didn’t seem pleased.

“Just making sure your brain is in tact. 

“It never was.” He mumbled.

The dog had  her head resting on his shoulder now, “Surprised you…. Let her stay.”

“I was worried she might bite me.”

Sunny patted the dog’s back.

“Hey, Krill there are a few people at the door come to check in on the Commander.”

“Tell them to stay out. The commander needs his rest.”

Adam raised a hand, “Wait… no… it's ok.”

“You can barely string two words together.” Krill scolded

“Just five minutes and then....” His voice was slightly slurred, “And then I’ll do…. Whatever.”

“Fine, five minutes.”

He closed his eyes briefly listening as feet shuffled across the floor, and soft voices murmured up around him.

“Commander.”

He opened his eyes to see a huddle of marines standing at the end of his bed. Ramirez, Mav, CJ and a few others.

“You alright?”

“Terrific.”

“They must have you on some good drugs.”

“Actually no…. Due to the nature of his stay, he’s actually sober right now.”

The marines laughed, only to be silenced by Krill, “If that’s the case you definitely need sleep.” Ramirez patted his foot, “Don’t let us get in your way, rest, relax, do what you need to do.”  They were ushered out as quickly as they had come, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. The dog’s breath was warm against his throat from where her head rested on his shoulder.

Off in the corner he watched a set of white ribbons gently waving in the subtle air currents of the ship.”

“Welcome back,” Said a voice, unbidden inside his head.

“Bitch.” he thought.

“Dumbass.” Came the reply 

He leaned his head back the pillow cool and soothing against his aching neck. He reached up a hand absently letting it hang in the air until something took it. Sunny’s skin was warm compared to his own.

His head lolled sideways.

And he was gone.

[bookandcranny]

Beatrice - Chapter Five

She sucked on her lower lip and it tasted sweet. Bittersweet really, but any amount of sweetness was good enough for her.

Sprinting up the staircase two at a time, Gianna couldn’t remember why the climb had ever been an obstacle. She burst into her apartment and out of it again, through the window, onto the fire escape. Before she could think to be afraid, she leaped.

If she’d faltered, if she’d slowed for a second before making that jump, she would’ve hit the ledge and, best case scenario, clawed her way up to safety with a shattered pelvis. The worst case scenario was a lot messier and, she decided, not worth thinking about at the moment. 

The important thing was she had made it, barely, and miraculously unbroken too. Unbroken because “unharmed” would’ve been too generous a word for it. She landed badly, twisting her ankle and spilling forward onto hands and knees. It was only thanks to the cradle of some overgrown greenery that she hadn’t cracked her skull open on the fountain while on her belly blindly grasping for leverage.

Maybe it was the headrush of having survived her nigh-suicidal recklessness, but the combined scents of the garden were making her dizzy. The exotic flowers’ natural perfume that had been pleasant at a distance now took on a noxious quality. The air seemed to be choking her. How did Beatrice stand it, she wondered.

Feeling a strange twinge she looked down at her scraped palms and sucked in a sharp breath. The cuts themselves were barely deep enough to draw blood, but beneath the tissue she was bubbling, boiling. She tore her eyes away and blinked hard to dispel the vision. 

Am I awake? Am I dreaming again? Did I miss the ledge?

Her mind screamed at her.

It’s something in the air. It’s something about these damn plants. An infection? An allergy? No, can’t think about it now. There’s no time. Look away, deal with it later.

Thankfully the sliding door was unlocked. Most people don’t expect intruders at five stories up. It opened with a click and Gianna tensed, withholding herself against the urge to rush in, metaphorical guns blazing. She stood there in the doorway and listened for sounds of distress, but it was eerily silent. The luxury apartment was as serene and sterile as she remembered it.

“Bea?” she whispered as she stepped inside. “Beatrice?”

No response. Her own dragging footsteps were loud in the emptiness, scraping along the tile like a murmuring: hush, hush. 

Gianna rounded a corner into the dining room and there she found her, and the mad doctor too. Beatrice was sitting at the table in a white dress with a gauzy quality to it that reminded her, sickly, of a wedding dress. Dr Rappaccini came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder before at length turning his sunken eyes towards the uninvited guest.

When he spoke, his voice sounded thick as if speaking around a swelling. “After all these years, you think I don’t recognize the taste of one of my own formulas? I’ve been doing this since before you were born, children.”

“It was only medicine, Father,” Beatrice insisted, looking up at him. “To help you sleep.”

“A long sleep indeed,” he growled. Gianna had no rightful reason to flinch away from the fury of an old, sick, and at least partially drugged old man, she reasoned. There was nothing of him to be so afraid of. But she did, and she was, and deep down she always had been, since the moment she saw him. There was something wrong with him, something she couldn’t put a name to, although if she tried the word “evil” might make an appearance. 

It had been a long time since Gianna had considered herself one among the faithful, the kind of person to buy into such archaic concepts as pure good vs pure evil. She never quite believed in a soul that could be broken down into quantifiable measurements— a half cup of goodness, an even ounce of vice. She couldn’t say from what recipe a man like Dr Rappaccini was formed, but what she saw before her now repulsed her. The layers of him peeled off like old paint and underneath were all the years and all the people who ever imposed their will on her. It didn’t make her feel righteous, it made her feel small and scared. She didn’t want to touch him. She didn’t want to catch what he had.

“This really has gone too far.” He spoke not to her but to Beatrice again. Although he kept her penned within his periphery, Gianna was an insect to him. “What did you think would happen? That you’d run away together? Go off into the sunset and live happily forever after like those books you read? You know better. This is only a passing fancy. She’ll die, and you’ll find another.”

Then he touched her cheek, almost tenderly. For a moment he almost looked like the father he was, or at least pretended to be. Gianna saw him and a younger Beatrice: teaching her, dressing her, holding her, bringing her to life only to take it away.

“Let go of her, she’s coming with me.”

Dr Rappaccini sneered. “Oh by all means. Who am I to get in the way of my daughter’s happiness? But if you two are going to insist on keeping up this charade, I think it’s only right I let you know what you’re getting into.”

The young woman stiffened. “Father, please don’t.”

“Have you been feeling ill lately, Ms Alexander? Been noticing some certain sudden changes?”

Gianna instinctively closed her fists and felt her bloodied palms sting.

“Now now, no need to be embarrassed. I’m a doctor you know.” He wheezed a little laugh to himself. “Have you been having trouble sleeping? Peculiar dreams? Maybe even during the day you find yourself feeling disoriented, seeing things. Do you find yourself feeling breathless or dizzy when you take in the city air? If not, you will. The medicine my daughter so kindly shared with you will be wearing off soon.”

Startled, she turned a questioning glance to Beatrice, but the other woman wouldn’t look at her. She’d told her the tea was medicinal, but it had never occurred to Gianna that she might be more familiar with the ailment than she let on. 

“It’ll only get worse from here, you know. Look at me,” he coughed. “Like the late great Madame Curie, my passions took their toll on me in the end. Though not before affording me a sturdy tolerance for most known and unknown poisons, I’ll have you know. That’s over fifty years of gradual exposure for you. Ah, but you didn’t come here to listen to me talk about work. 

“I’ll get to the point. You can treat the symptoms, but there’s no cure, no release from her poison. Even as we speak it’s tainting your healthy young blood, devouring you from the inside out. If I act fast, you may still live to a ripe old age. You might not even have any lasting side effects, lucky thing! But all this is if I give you the antitoxin, and if you don’t continue to willfully expose yourself to the source.”

“The source? You mean…?”

“Yes! My sweet Beatrice.” He petted her hair with the back of his fingers. “Lovely, isn’t she? Everything I grow… so very lovely. Don’t worry, I’d never do a thing to harm her. Can she say the same about you?”

“Don’t listen to him!” Beatrice stood up suddenly, surprising both Gianna and Rappaccini himself. “I never wanted to hurt you! I don’t want to hurt anyone!”

“But you can’t help it,” said the doctor. “It’s in your nature. It’s in your scent, the touch of your skin. Imagine what she could do with a kiss, Ms Alexander! Oh I almost want to see it. I’m sure it would produce some valuable data. But I’m not the cruel monster you make me out to be. That’s why I tried to stop you, even though my daughter begged me not to spill her secret. I tried to make you understand. 

“She can’t be released upon the world. Maybe in a few generations we’ll have a version that can control her own potency, but not yet. Not you, Beatrice.”

The poison-blooded woman spun on her creator. “Why did you make me! Why did you make me like this! Why bring me into the world at all if I can’t be a part of it! What is the point of being alive if I can’t touch another living thing without hurting them!”

Tears rolled freely down her cheeks, hot and angry. Gianna instinctively reached out to comfort her.

“No, stay away!” she screamed.

Dr Rappaccini took her into his arms. Her tears soaked through the shoulder of his ill-fitting coat and raised his flesh with welts, yet he didn’t flinch. Arrogant gray eyes locked with Gianna’s and the message was clear. No matter how much she loved her, Beatrice belonged to him. She would rather choose an empty life under the heel of a man who could never truly care for her over the risk that she might further harm the one person who did.

Then, a curious thing happened. It started with a gentle rumbling that gradually grew in intensity like the beginnings of an earthquake. Then there was the smell. Beatrice always had a slightly floral scent to her that Gianna had assumed was perfume, but now, like in the garden, it was so overpowering that it seared the nose and throat and muddled the senses. Rappaccini noticed as well and turned to his daughter with a delirious look on his face.

“Girl, what have you done?”

The woman lifted her head. Veins like dark tendrils bulged beneath her skin, wispy strands of violet encroaching at the corners of her eyes like ink in water. A noxious venom bubbled up and spilled over her lower lip. The doctor staggered backwards. Gianna might have followed his lead if she were in her right mind, but as it was she was stricken, mesmerized by her. Even through the confusion and the terror, she wanted to reach for her. Her blood sang out to embrace her.

There was a sound of shattering glass from the terrace and the garden rushed in, spilling over and crashing like a tidal wave, flooding every room it entered with rapidly growing roots and bright green vines. The onslaught of green grew and morphed and stretched and with every pulse of its new buds and branches there was a noise like a muffled human scream.

The slithering stems ignored Gianna, skated right past Beatrice unbothered, and latched onto the form of Dr Rappaccini, pulling taught as they snared him.

“Beatrice!” he cried out, but not in horror or in rage. Oddly enough, though he was alarmed, when he looked into the face of his creation, the creation who would destroy him, his expression was one of absolute wonder.

“How are you doing this, Beatrice? How?”

She looked at him, with her eyes still clouded and the nectar of her ire dripping freely from her lips, and she said, “No.”

Only then did true panic set in for the scientist, for he understood exactly what that no meant. 

Vines began to encircle his torso and pour into his open mouth, choking him, soaking up the living wet warmth of him and pouring in their poisons. They dragged his limp body, barely recognizable now, back out into the garden. They raked him over the shattered remains of the glass door and took him into their soil until no bit of him could be seen under the still earth.

The renowned genius Dr Giacoma Rappaccini died without ever knowing the whole truth of what he had created, without even the parting gift of that understanding, that knowledge he had so fervently sought after. That right had been revoked from him. Even so it could be said that Dr Rappaccini died with some sense of satisfaction. After all, what parent isn’t joyed to see their child finally surpass them?

As the flood of plants retreated so too did the murky discoloration of Beatrice’s eyes and skin, leaving only a faint sheen of laboured sweat. Unthinking Gianna moved towards her but her legs buckled halfway there. Her eyes rolled back and for a moment all the universe narrowed to the feeling of hands carefully lowering her to the floor.

“Oh God, Gianna.”

She blinked and saw Beatrice kneeling over her, felt the warmth of her breath. It occurred to her suddenly that she could very well be about to die. She wasn’t in any pain though. Even the ache from her twisted ankle was gone. If anything, she felt extraordinarily well, for a paralyzed person. The only improvement, she thought foggily, would be if she were able to just move. If she could move it all, if she could speak, then there would be nothing that she couldn’t say, not ever again.

“Gianna, I’m so sorry.” She leaned her head against Gianna’s breastbone and sobbed. “I love you. I love you.”

Gianna’s heart fluttered. In fact, it pounded so hard and so loud that Beatrice head shot back up with surprise. She sniffled and blinked back tears.

“Gi-Gianna? Are you still in there?”

Obviously Gianna couldn’t respond, but she searched her face and must have found an answer in it regardless. 

“If you can hear me… I’m going to try something. It- it might… I don’t want to hurt you. That’s what I was trying to… I don’t, I’ve never been able to control it before, but every time you looked at me I just, just tried to focus on that, on how much I wanted…” She swallowed thickly. “So I’m going to try one more time. One more time, okay? I’ll think about how much I love you, and you think about… well you just think about staying alive and maybe… maybe this time. Maybe it’ll turn out alright this time.”

With that, she closed her eyes and kissed her. It was everything Gianna had dreamed and nothing she had expected. Clumsy and inexperienced, gentle and sweet, and something sort of tingly she had a feeling wasn’t entirely due to attraction or apprehension or any mix thereof. She felt her eyes fall closed and her own lips part slightly to let her in. Too late she registered the sensation of something liquid pooling on her tongue, falling down her throat. She choked, briefly, then reflex kicked in and she swallowed. 

“Gianna?” Beatrice asked nervously.

She pushed herself up on her elbows. “You too,” she croaked. “I love you too. I would’ve told you sooner if I knew.”

“If you knew what?”

“That, that you needed to hear it. Someone should’ve told you sooner. Someone should’ve told you a long time ago how lovable you are.”

As she recovered Gianna touched a finger to her lips and it came away sticky. She sucked on her lower lip and it tasted sweet. Bittersweet really, but any amount of sweetness was good enough for her.

“Not to be the nosy overbearing girlfriend or anything, but what just happened exactly?”

Beatrice sat back on her heels. “I’m not really sure where to start. You’ve probably already figured out that I’m… not entirely human.”

“And all that talk about you being a hybrid and like a poisonous plant wasn’t entirely metaphorical, huh?”

She smiled sadly. “Father was always open with me about what I am. I wanted to be open with you too but part of me was afraid you wouldn’t believe me. The other part was afraid you would.”

A fair assumption. Even having witnessed the ultimate show of her power firsthand, she still had a hard time internalizing it.

The conflict must have been apparent on her face; Beatrice pulled away from her, folding her hands over her lap.

“I’m dangerous, I know. Nothing my father said was a lie, but there were things even he didn’t know about me. When you told me we could run away… you made it sound so simple, you know? It really made me believe I could do it. I really thought I could change. I thought I could be more like you, but instead I think I made you more like me.”

Gianna looked down at her hands. The cuts from earlier had sealed themselves closed, not so much as a scratch remaining.

“I’ve never tried to do that before. I don’t know exactly how it’ll affect you, or how much. You might live to be two hundred now. Or you might start to kill everything you touch.” A noise escaped her that was half laugh, half sob. “But I do know what would’ve happened if I left you like that, in that in-between state. Maybe it’s selfish of me. Father said it was. He told me if I cared for you at all I should send you away before it was too late, but I just…”

Gianna touched her. She shivered. “You never would’ve been able to scare me off anyway. I’m too stubborn for that.”

Beatrice sighed, sinking into her touch like she was a warm bed on a freezing cold night.

“So, what now?” Gianna asked at length, though she was reluctant to think of anything beyond this moment. This, all that she’d discovered, it did change things. Just not the things that mattered. Not as far as she was concerned, at least. “I mean, I guess we don’t have to leave now, but you do have a body in your garden so…”

“No. I want to. I want to leave.”

“Then we will,” said Gianna. “I just need to make a call first.”

-----

Petra pulled up to the curb outside a street she had intended never to visit again and opened the door with a glare.

“Gianna. I see you’re still alive despite ignoring every single warning I tried to give you.”

Before Gianna could respond she got up and pulled her into a clumsy hug.

“Crazy girl,” she muttered affectionately.

For half a second Gianna relaxed into the hug, before she remembered herself and pulled back with a gasp.

“What’s wrong?”

No blisters or rashes forming spontaneously on her skin. No sign of any adverse reaction at all. Her shoulders sagged with relief. It seemed she hadn’t absorbed Beatrice’s more overtly toxic qualities along with her immunity. Or, not yet at least.

The thought had been nagging at the back of her mind, that more traits might yet blossom down the line. Even Beatrice, by her own account, hadn’t been born with many of her abilities but rather had grown into them throughout her childhood and into the early years of adolescence. 

And I thought puberty was bad enough as it is.

“Nothing,” she replied at length. “I’m just a little sore.”

She had explained the situation to the best of her ability over the phone, but had omitted more a number of key details. Some things she withheld with purpose, some because she felt it wasn’t her story to tell, some simply because she couldn’t find the words. 

To Petra’s knowledge, Gianna had made plans to run away with Rappaccini’s daughter and when the man refused her, had broken into his apartment. This led to a struggle which resulted in his accidental death. All technically true. The details she chose to keep vague for the time being, until she could be certain the professor was on their side, although she had a sneaking suspicion she knew more than she let on anyway.

Petra looked from Gianna to the visibly shaken young woman who was clinging to her side. “Who did him in?”

“I did,” said Gianna without a thought. She’d been mentally rehearsing her story while they waited. “He found out about me and Bea and made it very clear that he was willing to kill us both to stop it from happening. I freaked out and pushed him, and he fell. He was old and frail. It was an accident.”

She nodded along with the tale but her thoughts were plainly elsewhere. Gianna got the impression she didn’t entirely believe her. That was fine, as long as she didn’t press.

“Where is he?”

She let go of the breath she’d been holding. That, she could answer definitively. “In the garden. Under it, I guess.”

Another nod. “It’ll do. He was a shut-in; I doubt anyone will come looking for him. I assume anyone who knew him well enough also would know better than to investigate his disappearance too closely. I’ll keep an eye on things, just in case.”

It probably should’ve bothered Gianna how nonchalant she appeared about a former colleague’s murder, even one she had a bad history with. But truthfully she was just grateful Petra had agreed to all of this so easily. She had no desire to look too closely at her motivations.

Petra reached into her pocket and handed Gianna a slip of paper with an address written on it.

“My summer home,” she explained. “You can lay low there for a while.”

“Petra… thank you.”

“Thank you. You’ve done me the service of taking care of something I should have a long time ago. Maybe once the good doctor’s research is in ashes I’ll finally be able to sleep through the night.”

She said it lightly, but there was a grave seriousness in her eyes.

“Please, not the garden,” Beatrice said softly. She’d spoken little since they’d left the apartment and it was no wonder why. The gravity of her actions was now beginning to sink in, and that combined with leaving the safety and familiarity of her home for the first time in her life had put her in a state of shock. 

She never would truly regret laying Dr Rappaccini to rest, but the world did feel like a very different place without him in it.

“Is there any way you could get the plants to us once we’re there?”

“I’ll do my best, I can promise you that much.” She looked Beatrice up and down, really taking her in for the first time. “So you’re the ‘daughter.’”

“I am. I was.”

Dr Bagnol flexed her fingers around the handle of her cane, quietly contemplative. For the first time that Gianna had ever seen, she was unsure of what to say. “Did you ever… The other experiments, did they…?”

Beatrice inclined her head. Thankfully she needed no elaboration. “My father told me some. He said there were others before me, my sisters, but that they were imperfect and didn’t survive more than a few weeks. Your name’s Dr Bagnol, isn’t it? He spoke about you too, once or twice I think. It didn’t mean anything to me at the time.” She hesitated. “They’re happy now, if it helps. I never met them while they were alive but they talk to me through the flowers, though I can’t always understand them. My father didn’t believe me when I told him. There were a lot of things he didn’t believe in.”

The woman hummed in acknowledgment. “It’s a pretty unbelievable story. But I’ve dared to put my faith in plenty of strange ideas and often I’ve been right. For better or for worse.”

Petra gestured to the open car door and handed Gianna the keys. 

“You’d better get moving.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I’ve got things to take care of here, the sooner the better. Don’t worry about the car. It’s the least I can do.” Her gaze lingered on Beatrice. “I’ve missed a lot of birthdays.”

They packed their bags into the trunk and Gianna settled into the driver’s seat. Catching the other’s anxious look she assured her, “We’ll go slow.”

“You may not have that luxury,” Petra said with the certainty of someone who had made her own share of narrow escapes. She rapped her knuckles on the hood of the car. “Go now and don’t stop until you’re across the state line.”

Nodding grimly Gianna spared one last look to the older woman: her co-conspirator, her mentor, her friend. “Thank you.”

They drove, and little by little New York retreated in the rear view until it blipped out of existence, a vanishing dream. Gianna would’ve liked to say she was sorry to leave it behind but in reality, the city wasn’t her home. It wasn’t her tiny apartment with the glitchy kitchen light and plastered over vintage moulding, nor even the house in the suburbs where her parents still lived, blissfully unaware of their daughter’s doings. 

To her, home was an ephemeral thing, the stops on the way to a destination that was always changing. Beatrice on the other hand had only known one home all her life, one which may never exist for her again, at least not in the same way it had. 

Yet when Gianna dropped one hand from the wheel and reached for her, she slotted her fingers between hers with no hesitation, only a trembling sigh as she continued to familiarize herself with the skin-to-skin contact. That too, Gianna thought, could be home. If nothing else, she could try and make it one for her.

A few hours passed with fewer words spoken between them. Sometimes she would ask Beatrice if she was hungry or feeling motion sick or if she wanted to try lying down in the back to get some rest, and each time she would answer with a polite shake of the head. The night settled over them like a deep blue linen, too gentle and frail to risk tearing with clumsy words.

The quiet wasn’t a bother to either of them. If talk is cheap then the clasping of hands and the soft kisses pressed to wrists and knuckles was a language that had cost them dearly.

Nearing their destination, Gianna pulled onto a sideroad that took them from asphalt to dirt and gravel to nothing as it came to an abrupt dead end. There was no house or even any helpful landmarks to be found, just grass and trees, so they parked the car to have a look around while Gianna fiddled with the GPS.

Beatrice stepped out into the field and filled her lungs, cautiously at first, and then in deep lusty breaths like a drowning body coming up for air. She shucked off her shoes and hiked up her dress to let the wild grass brush against her legs. The new plantlife turned brittle and curled away from her touch but she didn’t mind.

Gianna turned to find her partner lying in the middle of the field, heels digging into the dirt like she was trying to put down roots, and laughing giddily. The unrestrained, childlike joy on her face was contagious and Gianna soon found herself giggling as well.

“Having fun?” 

“Oh it’s so weird,” she hiccuped. “There aren’t any walls. There aren’t even any buildings. It just goes on and on forever.”

She sat down in the grass next to her. “It’s not too overwhelming?”

“It is, but in a good way. It’s so… so much more than I thought it would be from books and pictures. It feels like a dream.”

“Describe it to me,” she said.

Beatrice sat herself upright and curled into Gianna’s embrace.

“It’s not the same as being in my garden. These plants don’t speak to me, and I can feel them but I don’t know them, if that makes any sense. You can’t feel them at all, can you?”

“No. Whatever you gave me… I don’t know, maybe it just doesn’t work that way.”

She tried not to look disappointed. Being able to touch, to be beside one another like this and not have to worry should have been enough. It was enough. But Gianna was beginning to understand that Beatrice’s loneliness was a vein that ran deeper than the more obvious isolation she experienced. 

As Dr Rappaccini himself had alluded to, she was one of a kind. To Gianna, that just made her all the more amazing, but to Beatrice it was a curse. More than anything, maybe more than to be loved, she longed to be understood. 

“Wish your superpowers could help us find this stupid house,” Gianna remarked.

Beatrice perked up. “Actually, I think it’s just on the other side of those trees.”

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t really know how to explain it but there’s this absence. Like, a blank space. Things are growing around it but in that space,” She made the shape of a square with her hands. “Nothing.”

Gianna stood up and brushed herself off. “Well let’s take a look then.”

Sure enough, the path picked up again on the other side of a small thicket and led them to the house-- more of a cabin really. Although the outside was just as overgrown from the years of neglect, aside from some dust and cobwebs the interior was remarkably well preserved. In a closet they found a broom and dustpan, some rags, and a bottle with an inch or so of cleaner still swishing around at the bottom. They also happened upon spare linens and an abandoned down comforter that had been tucked aside for a rare chilly day, blessedly free of grime. 

The weather was still plenty warm so they opened all the windows and aired out the rooms and when Gianna was confident no spiders would crawl into her mouth while they were sleeping, she bid Beatrice join her under the duvet. There they dreamed with nothing but that big comforter between them and the night air. That was how they stayed until the morning.

For weeks they lived like this, playacting the roles of the two happy honeymooners. They got up, worked on cleaning up the house, cooked, ate, went to bed, and occasionally slept. It was a strange dance, one whose steps they made up as they went along. And sometimes they fell out of step. 

Gianna had to go into town sometimes, to walk in the all too human places Beatrice still feared to tread and come back with supplies and dinner and a new book for her to read. It was nice, Beatrice thought, to be cared for in little ways like that, but though she gratefully accepted the gifts they also tended to remind her that when it came down to it, not very much had changed.

Her dictatorial father was gone, but so was her garden, her petaled elder sisters whom she cared for and cared for her in turn. The doors were all unlocked now, but many days she found herself lurking in the thresholds listening for the sound of tires crunching on leaflitter. In those interrums, she was as alone as she’d ever been.

When Gianna was there though, all was lovely. She gave her things she never imagined she would have-- at least not so freely, certainly not multiple times in one night. But in the wake of her affection a sick fretful feeling would open up like a chasm in her chest, taunting her as it ripped her in two, “Don’t you know how to be alive without trailing at someone’s heel?”

Its presence, this nebulous worry, dogged her day by day. In the small hours, while her girlfriend slept, Beatrice lay awake trying to trace the shape of this shadow that darkened the edges of her newfound happiness. 

“Bea? You okay?”

She was standing outside in the grass, near the woods that surrounded the cabin. She liked to be here. Wandering too far made her nervous so she had to devise more creative ways to explore the world that was now open to her. Often she came here to test the reach of her awareness, feeling her way through the landscape as if with a phantom limb. 

However Gianna found it a little unnerving to watch her girlfriend standing and staring into space for hours on end and typically only joined her when it had been long enough for her to get worried.

Beatrice blinked and rolled her neck experimentally. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She put a hand on her shoulder. “Dinner’s ready.”

They twined their arms together as they walked the beaten path back to the house. It was times like this that she felt she could forget her concerns and just enjoy the present moment. Whatever came next, she wanted to have as many moments like that as she could.

--

next chapter

[nonsensicalobsessions]

A Ruff Day

Author’s Note:

@catsladen wrote: Congrats my dear on your followers! That is amazing and so well deserved! Here’s a conversation prompt I found that I think you can do magic with: Person A: Why are you doing that? Person B: Doing what? Person A:Treating me like a person I picture either Tom or Loki, but I leave that up to you 😊 No smut necessary. Some fluff/angst mixture would be nice (Fangst? Anuff?) Thank you lovely!

After I wrote about having my lovely followers, Life came around and bit me, in the ass, hard. I was left with a large set of dentition marks and a massive infection known as “depression” in its wake. I say this because I know I’ve pretty much fallen off the face of Tumblr, and I am still clawing my way back. I do not have it nearly as bad as some, but I have it bad enough, and I will leave it at that.

When the events that I write about next happened in real life, I could not stop thinking about them, having worked in a veterinary hospital for three memorable years, and I ran the events through my head, over and over. I could see the events as they could have played out...might have played out...most probably played out in some aspects...and then this plot took root, and would not let go.

So, I apologize, @catsladen, for this is not the most original piece that I have ever come up with...in fact, it is derivative, and some may see it as a cheap rip off on a very real event. Still, it will not let me go, and as such, here it is. I present to you, A Ruff Day.

Working on federal holiday weekends in an emergency vet hospital always either dragged, or were so busy I could neither eat nor pee. Today seemed to be the former, and I was grateful for it. The techs were scattered around doing their busy work, while I closed myself in my office, tossing an oversized tennis ball in the air and catching it as I balanced on the back legs of a chair. I’ve done all my charting, there are no patients for me to check on. The last one through the door was a bulldog that came too close to a honeybee, and his already bulbous face swelled grotesquely. A shot of antihistamine, a script of Benadryl, then he and owner went off, right as rain. The airway was never compromised, all’s well that ends well...except for the bee, of course.

Kellie Ashe, one of the techs, came racing into the office without knocking, breathless. “You will no ever guess what is going on at intake!”

I jumped up, grabbing my stethoscope and mask (Thank you COVID) as I glared at her, “What is it and where is your mask?” The laws were quite clear, and stringent on this, and she had no mask on...and what was that twit doing? Brushing her hair and putting on eye makeup, what...? “Kellie! Focus! What is happening? Is it a hit and run, a delivery presenting badly...dog or cat...” I swear this girl has the brain of a flea...

“Tom Hiddleston is here with his dog!”

I look at her blankly. Nothing registered with me except one word—dog. “Kellie, what is wrong with the animal?” I asked, rushing to turn on the lights in the OR, making sure the X-ray machines were on and warmed up, the ultrasound is also on, and proceeding to the exam rooms, turning the lights on in one.

“It’s my turn to be the assisting tech so I ran back here to make sure you knew, it’s my turn not Claire’s, so I get to be the one in the room with you and Tom...”

I stop and freeze her with a glare. “Kellie, I don’t know what in the hell you’re blabbering about, but so far you have given me no information that has been useful to me. Therefore, there is no reason for you to be anywhere around me, the patient, or the owner. You can wait in the back.”

“What? But no...! I’m the one that ran back to tell you, I’m the one that should get to be in the....”

“If you were concerned with the animal you’d be there right now, but no, you were more interested in putting on mascara for chrissakes...get in the treatment room, I don’t even want to see you right now!”

I came to the front area to see a tall man, obviously the owner, who was obviously in a great deal of distress. “I don’t know how many he had..maybe one? It could have been two? And I don’t know if he chewed them, or swallowed them whole...” His voice was muffled by the mask we kept on hand to give to owners as they came in without masks, as they usually did, upset and stressed. Bright flowers covered the lower half of his face, but as I looked at his bright blue eyes, I finally understood what got Kellie in such a tizzy, and why there was an element of suppressed excitement that our usual emergency walk ins did not produce.

Next to him was a calmer woman, who was filling out some of the paperwork, and occasionally passing it to him to sign or for more information. “Tom, I really think it was only the one, and this is a bit over the top. One raisin isn’t worth all this...”

“A raisin, did you say?” My attention was now completely trained on the sad eyed chocolate spaniel at the feet of Claire Peyton, one of the calmest and best techs we had. She had already gotten a temperature and a weight from the little fellow, and was gently guiding the dog and owner into an exam room, while Liz, the receptionist, was explaining to the woman with the clipboard she could not follow us in because of the current COVID restrictions we were under. Only the owner was allowed in the exam room, because of the laws about remaining so many feet apart...and the worst part was, we couldn’t even allow her to wait in the interior waiting room, but she was welcome to stay on the screened porch we were using at the moment. She wasn’t thrilled, but she was accepting.

I quietly introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Dr. Diana Harris, and I’ll be helping...” ���Bobby,” the man said quietly. “This is my...Bobby.”

“Okay Bobby, come here and let me look at you, you scoundrel...stealing raisins, are we? When did this happen, Dad?”

“Tom,” he said, distracted. “About ten minutes ago...maybe twenty. I saw that he was snuffling around the plate, and all the biscuits were gone...so were the little cheese squares...and there had been five raisins before, I am sure of it, and when I picked everything up, I only saw four...”

“Very precise,” I noted mildly as I listened to Bobby’s heart and lungs, which were both within normal limits, and made a hand motion for Claire to make a note of it.

“What’s that, that hand signal, what did that mean?” Oh, wow. Tom is very, very upset.

“It’s a signal I’ve developed with my techs to let them know that the patient’s heart and lungs are fine without having to take the time to say it, Tom,” I reply, keeping my life low and mild. The owner’s agitation is passing along to the little spaniel, who is looking around and panting.

“He keeps doing that, he’s panting and looking upset, is he in pain?”

“Claire, liquid charcoal according to weight please,” I murmur, and she promptly replied, “On it,” and she excused herself to open the door...only to find Kellie standing there, clearly eavesdropping. The look I gave Kellie had her scampering...but oh, it will not be far enough. Luckily, Tom did not notice.

“Okay, Tom, here’s how it stands.” I leaned against the exam table, Bobby quivering in Tom’s arms. “You did exactly the right thing bringing Bobby here, and so quickly. Raisins are extremely toxic to dogs, and the fact you got him here so fast really speaks to how much you care about this little guy...so give yourself some credit...”

“I told her...I told her I didn’t want them around where he could get to them...the Bobster is a bit of a food thief,” he muttered.

“Ok, so you’re telling me he’s a dog,” I drily replied. “Anyway, we’re going to take care of this issue right now. I’m going to take Bobby to the back and...”

“Oh no, can’t I go with him?”

Somehow, I saw this being his response. “Tom, we are going to give him some liquid charcoal. It looks like black sludge and it tastes like garbage. He isn’t going to want to take it so we are going to administer it in a way that he will have no choice but to swallow it, but there will most likely be some spluttering. This stuff is a bear and a half to get out of clothes so you do not want to be within spitting radius...and then this little charmkins, after he gives us a horrible stink eye, is going to proceed to vomit, probably in the messiest manner possible, just for spite and revenge, and I don’t blame him one bit. Again, you do not want to be in range! Then depending on what he gives me back, we can go from there. So no, I think it best you stay here...you can wait with your girlfriend, if you want, and I will be right back when I have something to tell you. I promise we aren’t going to hurt him, but we have to get this out, right away.”

“Right, right...don’t waste time talking to me...I’ll just...sit here, if that’s okay.” 

“As you wish, Tom.”

I took the leash from his hand gently. His hands were so cold, I felt pity for him. “I’ll take good care of him, I promise,” I said, and left him standing there, bereft.

Bobby walked with me well enough, and I took him to the treatment area to find Claire had already drawn up the appropriate amount. She quickly got the dog in the appropriate position, and I propped his mouth open carefully and quickly administer the liquid yuck and then closed my hand over his muzzle, blowing softly to stimulate the swallowing reflex. His eyes bulged at the foul concoction, and I tenderly explained,”Ah, such are the wages of sin, my dear thief...and it tastes like ass. Down the hatch...” He swallowed, and I gave Claire the unspoken head nod to release him and step back, which she did...as did I...and Bobby, outraged at this poor treatment, proceeded to sputter and spit like a world champion. Black froth went everywhere, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his outraged expression. “Yes Bobby, that’s right. But I’m sorry, it’s going to get much worse before it gets better...”

After a few minutes, he aggrieved expression turned into the anxious canine smile that presaged a good vomiting session, which was exactly what we wanted. I let him pace about in a small area, until finally he let nature take its course and released the contents of his stomach. Ah, joy, what every veterinarian struggled and sweat blood for, the contents of a dog’s stomach...or a cat, we’re not picky...and hey, I’ll take that over shit, any day...

“Good boy, there’s a good boy,” I soothed him as he retched. He was as miserable as you’d expect, and I kept smoothing my hand over his heaving flanks. I didn’t care about my shoes, they were already black, and just for this reason. Soon I saw a lone offender, and I called for a pair of tweezers to pluck it from the mess and place it on a paper towel. Claire was also consoling the sad little fellow, who was, I hope, reconsidering his evil ways, as I then took a tongue depressor and poked through everything he so woefully bestowed upon us. Yep, cheese...chewed up crackers...mmm, that sausage looked like it was probably expensive...but no other raisins. Just the one. Plus, it hadn’t been chewed, either, excellent! Best of all, it was caught up in all this other stuff. Perfect. Couldn’t ask for better, really.

“Kellie!” I called out. When she didn’t appear right away, my heart sank and my anxiety rose. She wasn’t...she didn’t...

“Hold the leash,” I barked and walked swiftly back to the exam room, and sure enough, I heard her syrupy tones inside...I saw red.

I opened the door carefully, to find her talking to Tom who was standing in almost a corner while she was yapping away. I must have had a look on my face like an avenging goddess, because she immediately began stammering, “I just thought...I could stay and keep Tom company...while you were working with Bobby...”

“Stop thinking, Kellie, it only gets you into more trouble, and it probably strains the gerbils,” I replied softly. “I have a job for you. In the back treatment area. Where I told you to be. Go there. Now.”

She turned towards Tom and said, “So, um...”

“NOW.”

She jumped and scuttled away like a crab facing a boiling pot. Oh, sister...

Tom was blushing and looking at his feet. “It happens all the time. Please don’t be too angry with her...how is Bobby?”

“Bobby is doing excellently and is a trooper. I will be back with you in just a moment. Just...give me a second.”

I flew to the back to find Kellie cowering in a corner. I took a deep breath, and spoke very, very quietly. “You are on such thin ice with me that if you so much as open your mouth, the displaced oxygen pressure will crack the ice and you. Will. Drown. Now. You are going to clean up all of this lovely mess to a surgical grade sterility. I will want to perform open heart surgery on this floor when you are finished. Are we quite clear? Nod if you understand me, Kellie, because you are on such. Thin. Ice.”

Kellie looked around here with dismay. It really was a disgusting mess, and she knew I was going to get down on my hands and knees and inspect the wretched baseboards before all was said and done. I was that pissed.

Claire asked quietly as we walked away, “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t think he absorbed anything. Tom acted too fast, the raisin wasn’t in any way chewed or showing signs of digestion, and it was mixed up with everything else. But pull blood for a CBC-SMAC so we can have a baseline for his kidney values just in case. Better safe than sorry. And then clean up this sad little urchin. I hope you understand now, young man, that crime does not pay...” He looked positively desolate, with his muzzle coated in the foul substance he had to drink and then give back. Activated charcoal really is the worst.

“I’ll make him presentable again. Back in a few.”

I took a deep breath and went to apologize to Tom. Oh, this was going to be fun...

I found him pacing the tiny room, looking at the posters instructing about heartworm prevention and feline leukemia vaccines. “Tom, I really must apologize...”

“No, you don’t. She’s young. It happens all the time,” he tried to brush it off.

“Not when I’m in this hospital, it doesn’t. I’d already given her explicit instructions because she was star-struck, and I will not have it. When someone comes in our door, I don’t care who is on the end of the leash, or holding the carrier. It is irrelevant. What matters is the animal. I give the same treatment and quality of care to the cat from the post office as...well...”

“The dog of some poncy actor,” he concluded wryly.

“Hey, I kinda like some of that poncy actor’s work, so less of that,” I griped, as I blushed and rubbed my forehead, mainly to hide my embarrassment. “Bobby came through wonderfully, and you were right, it was only one raisin...and some crackers, cheese, and what looked like some tasty cold cuts as well. What is great is the raisin wasn’t bitten into or showing any signs of digestion, and as it was caught up in his other ill gotten gains, I think it is safe to say he really got lucky...that, and the fact you acted so quickly. Normally, we’d be talking about having to administer fluids, and have him stay at least overnight to make sure his kidneys were not showing any adverse effects...yes, it is that serious. Especially for a little fellow of Bobby’s size. But he should be fine. I want you to make sure he has access to lots of water. I am having a full blood panel pulled to get a baseline of his kidney values now but that is really just a precaution for when you bring him back to his regular veterinarian...”

“You can’t see him again? He hasn’t needed a vet since we’ve arrived, and I never anticipated having to stay as long as we have...but what if he gets sick, or needs his vaccines updated, can’t we come back here...?”

“Tom, this is an emergency vet hospital, I’m only here on the off hours. My clinic is...well, not here,” I floundered.

“May I have your card, then? I’d really like for you to keep overseeing him...continuity of care, you know,” he trailed off.

“Uh, sure...” I fished one out of my lab coat pocket and gave him one. He looked at it and said, “What should I be looking for, what if he starts getting ill again?”

“Tom, I really don’t think...”

“I can bring him back here, I suppose, I just want to know what symptoms...you said kidney damage...”

“Tom, kidney damage isn’t something you can readily observe...”

“But what if he starts getting that look again, and starts pacing, maybe he’s in pain and can’t tell me...”

“Tom.” He stopped rambling and I held my hand out for my card. Like a child, he held it to his chest. “No, please, I’ll stop...”

“Just give me the damn card, will ya?” I all but yanked it out of his hand, and wrote something on the back. “That is my private cell number. Do not call it, ever! I hate phone calls! Text me. I promise I will lose the cell number you send it from. If you have any questions you can send me video or photos or whatever. Text me...whenever. But keep in mind he picks up on your cues and if you are nervous, he gets nervous. If you are excited, he gets excited.”

He looked at it incredulously, and before he could protest, I waved it off. “Just don’t...I did the same thing for Mr. Puddles.”

“Mr. Puddles,” he repeated dumbly.

“The post office cat...urinary tract infection...anyway.”

Those bright blue eyes stopped staring at the floor impaled me, and said abruptly, “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Treating me like a person.”

I looked at him steadily and replied, “Because to me, that’s what you are...you’re Bobby’s person. And...well, I know you probably weren’t supposed to stay here this long. You most likely want to go home, be with your family, what is familiar, and god knows what you are living in, some hotel or something suitably sterile...Right now, we all want to hold onto our loved ones a little bit tighter, a little bit closer. I can tell that for you, that’s Bobby. You love him a lot, and take great care of him, even to taking him to an emergency vet on a holiday weekend when the weather is gorgeous and your girlfriend says maybe you could just stay home.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Huh?” Such was my elegant reply.

“No, she’s wonderful, and we’re very close, but it’s not...we’re not...”

I hold my hands up in the air. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain anything to me...”

 “No I just, erm...”

We spent time admiring the floor when Claire came back, with Bobby cleaned and even faintly smelling of grooming spray, as well as being freshly brushed. 

“Bobby!” Tom cried out, and even though I could not see his smile, I could hear it in the real joy in his voice. Bobby wriggled his behind and danced as he all but leapt into his master’s...excuse me, person’s arms.

“Well, that should settle everything,” I smiled.

“Just a moment.”

I looked up at Tom, confused. He sounded almost stern.

“I think Bobby and I could use some photographs to commemorate the great care that he received here...for our scrapbook.”

“Scrapbook? Really, Tom?”

“Instagram,” he immediately amended.

The buzz that went through the building, I swear was palpable. Of course, I even allowed Kellie to get in the photo, because I am not that bad...and if her scrubs were stained with dog vomit, well, you couldn’t really see. Much. And of course we all had to keep our masks on, so I personally thought it was the dumbest idea I’d heard in a long time, but I wasn’t going to go against the idea. I might have found three of my tires slashed and my favorite coffee mug broken, if I had...and I really like that mug, plus tires are not cheap.

Everyone took their photos, hugged Bobby, gave Tom an elbow bump, and he, Bobby and Not-Girlfriend went on their way...then I went back to my office, made sure everything was documented, and went back to my oversized tennis ball.

I thought everything was over. I could not help was smiling, despite myself. Not too shabby of a way to spend a holiday weekend, making a movie star dog’s throw up...this is why I went through all those years of school, I laughed at myself as I sat down with my frozen pizza and lemonade. I even made a bag of popcorn.

Then, at about ten o’clock, my phone buzzed. I picked it up, expecting it to be my mother, who sometimes forgot about this thing called “time zones” since she moved to Arizona...

Instead, there was a photo of a happy, smiling man, without a mask, and his happy, smiling dog. A text read, “To my favorite doc: Thanks again for helping me. Telling dad all about how the wages of sin taste like ass.”

I winced. I had no idea he’d overheard that.

So I sent a photo back of me. Without my mask, or makeup, or getting a hairdo, because in front of me was the best makeup job ever—my Corgi, Cheeks.

The attached text said, “Stop licking it then...and she says you are very welcome. I don’t know what you did, bro...but check your balls.”

The phone buzzed yet again, this time without a photo, “Thanks a LOT. Now I’m really in trouble...! TH”

“Sorry. Cheeks is still sore over that one. It happened about two months ago and he is still telling the world what a horrible human I am. DH”

“Bobby wants to know...perhaps Cheeks would like to get acquainted and play sometime soon? The dog park close to your clinic looks promising.”

“Cheeks thinks that would be amazing. He is still very much a puppy and has a lot of energy to burn. He’d love a friend to tear around with instead of trying to wrap his leash around my ankles.”

“Maybe...we could have some coffee while they wear each other out?”

“That sounds like a fantastic plan.”

“Could we say...9:00 Wednesday morning?”

“Yes, I’d like that. I’ll be the half asleep one with the hyperactive pooch, I won’t have hours until one o’clock that afternoon.”

“I’ll be the tall one...wearing a mask that is not covered with flowers.”

I laughed out loud.

“I think we will find each other well enough.”

There was a brief pause, and then, “Yes, I think we have. Goodnight, Cheeks, and Diana.” 

“Goodnight, Bobby and Tom...it’s been a ruff day.”

“...I can’t believe you said that.” 

“XD woof.”

Tagging all my littermates: @catsladen, @villainousshakespeare, @winterisakiller, @vodka-and-some-sass, @yespolkadotkitty, @just-the-hiddles, @hopelessromanticspoonie, @theheartofpenelope, @sabine-leo, @wegingerangelica, @ciaodarknessmyheart, @wrathkitty, @rhemasky, @sourpatchkidsandacokecan, @redfoxwritesstuff, @the-insomniac-cat2, @alexakeyloveloki, @myoxisbroken​, @toomanystoriessolittletime​, @ladyfluff, @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi​

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (25)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tessa Sullivan (OFC)

Chapter Summary: It’s just coffee with an old colleague... nothing to worry about...

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

“Stop sulking,” she tells him, not even looking up from her computer screen.

“I’m not sulking.”

“James,” she chides, glancing up and seeing him leaning in the doorway of her office, arms tightly folded over his chest.

“I’m not sulking,” he repeats, unfolding his arms and striding in to take a seat on the old sofa in the corner.

“Fine.” She pushes away from her desk, flips her glasses up on top of her head, and leans back in her seat. “Then you’re brooding.” He shoots her an irritated glare. “Just say it. You’ll feel better if you do.”

“I’d feel better if you’d stay out of this.”

“What happened to thinking that me going on missions was hot?” she asks, rising and crossing the room to shut the door. She turns back to him and leans up against the closed door, wiggles her eyebrows playfully before saying, “With great power comes great sensuality.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what this is. You can’t even use your powers out there.”

“I know,” she says quietly, moving to stand in front of him.

He looks up at her with tired, conflicted eyes. “If you do… if this guy finds out you’re a mutant…”

“I know,” she repeats, dropping her hands to his shoulders and giving him a small, playful shake. The corners of his mouth quirk up just a bit and he brings his hands to her hips. “Have I ever told you, you worry too much?” she teases, before lowering herself down to straddle his lap.

“No. Never,” he replies with a frown.

“I’m just having coffee with an old colleague,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting her fingers play in his hair. “There’s no need to worry.”

“Undercover operations are the hardest to monitor and the easiest to lose control of,” he tells her with authority as each of his thumbs begin to rub circles into her hips. Her knees squeeze his thighs a little tighter as she sidles further into him, and he finds himself fighting to maintain focus and not get lost in the warmth of her body or the scent of her honeysuckle shampoo. “This could be really dangerous. You can’t lose sight of that.”

“We’re meeting in a public place, an outdoor café,” she tries, her fingers moving to sweep some errant strands of hair back behind his ears.

“Which means anyone can see you. And I could lose sight of you in a second.”

“But you’re not the only who’ll be there.”

“I just don’t like it,” he says, the frown returning to his face as his gaze drops.

“Well, I don’t like that people are – or were – experimenting on mutants,” she says, suddenly stiffening next to him. “And honestly, this is something that I should be involved with. This is something that, like it or not, already involves me… and my family. You’re the one who pointed that out.”

“It’s not your job,” he says plainly.

She scoffs loudly. “I have a suit. That basically makes me a part-time Avenger. And besides… how would you feel if Steve kept you from anything Hydra related?”

His brow furrows deeply as he looks back up at her. “I don’t know. But it isn’t the same. Not really.”

“Babe,” she groans, leaning back a bit and staring down at him with a serious look. “I went to live at Xavier’s when I was 6 years old. I started training with the X-Men at 16. My first real mentor was a brilliant physician who was covered in bright blue fur.” She smiles when he raises a single, suspicious eyebrow. “I know it doesn’t seem like I… identify as a mutant. And maybe I don’t always. Because it’s hard. And scary. And… it can be easy to lose sight of who you really are when you spend so long in hiding.”

His face softens as he takes in her words. If there’s one thing that they truly have in common, it’s this. Both of them have been so many people over the years. Both of them have spent too much time hiding who they are from others… and from themselves. He reaches up and pets back her hair, running his thumb along her forehead. “You never talk about it,” he says softly. “You never talk about your time there, with them.”

She drops her gaze, her cheeks suddenly taking on a bright red blush. “Yeah. Well… it’s sort of complicated. But…” She looks back up and into his eyes. “I am a mutant. And that means more than just having the X-gene in my sequence. To me, that means more. I spent years immersed in the… culture. We have a different history from other humans. We’ve been abandoned, denied, demonized. You think this Hydra facility was the only place experimenting on us? I personally went on at least four missions to rescue mutants – people – who were held for testing or… training. I grew up learning about the secret missions of Nazis to root us out, activate us, tear us apart to see what makes us tick. I spent more nights than I can count listening to Logan’s stories about the Weapon X program, about the torture they put him through to turn him into the ultimate killing machine.”

He cocks his head and narrows his eyes at her. “Weapon X,” he repeats. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

She merely shrugs. “I heard rumors that SHIELD took it over in the 90s… maybe Hydra was involved with that too.” She lets out a long sigh and drops her forehead to his. “But see? That’s the thing. If we weren’t hated, we were ignored, forgotten. There are millions of us on this planet, but most people would say they’ve never met a mutant, maybe never even heard of them.” Pulling back a bit, she locks eyes with him. “No one ever cared enough to save us. No one ever cared enough to even see that we needed saving.”

“I care,” he tells her, cupping his hand over the back of her head.

She smiles a small, sad smile. “If I wasn’t here, if you and Steve and the other Avengers didn’t know me… I don’t know that any of you would care enough to look into this.”

“That’s not true,” he says, hurt breaking through his voice.

“History shows otherwise.” She places her hands on his shoulders and pushes back off of him. “Anyway, all of this is to say… I know what I’m getting into here. Probably better than the rest of you.”

He grabs her waist when she tries to shimmy off his lap, and he pulls her back down. “I just want you to be careful,” he tells her as he wraps his arms around her. She melts into him, resting her head on his chest. “You’re not trained for this… or if you were, well, you’re way out of practice.”

She lets out a small laugh before mumbling softly, “I’m not worried. I know who has my back.”

000

“I never did like this guy,” Clint utters through the coms as he watches Dr. Aaron Scofield dodge traffic on his way to the café down the block.

Tessa sits idly at a table on the patio, lined up perfectly to be in his view as well as Bucky’s from the other side of the quiet main street. “You never met him,” she says softly, masking the movement of her lips with a coffee cup.

“You really think I didn’t know everything about the scientists stationed in Minsk. I know why Genetech hired him.” He continues to peer through the Stark-manufactured sight device, snickering slightly when he sees the doctor stumble as he steps off a curb. “Klutz,” he snorts.

“Whatever.” Through the sight on his rifle, Bucky can actually make out Tessa’s dramatic eye roll. “I worked with him every day for almost a year,” she goes on. “And I can honestly tell you that he doesn’t have enough personality to be either liked or disliked.”

“Can you two relive the past some other time,” Natasha mutters. She sits just a few tables away, but Tessa can only hear her voice through the coms and even when looking directly at her, she can’t tell at all that the woman is speaking. Damn, she’s good. “He’s on your left,” she says simply.

“Dr. Sullivan?” the man asks as he approaches. He extends his hand and offers a meek smile, one almost hidden by his graying mustache. “It’s been a spell.”

She rises and accepts his handshake. “It has been, Dr. Scofield. Thank you for meeting me.” She drops back into her chair and waves her hand at the seat across from her… the seat where Bucky expressly told her to get him to sit so that he wouldn’t be blocked by any other patrons.

Instead, he chooses the seat right next to her, plopping down and folding in on himself, resting his elbows on his knees. “I was surprised to hear from you,” he says, his voice holding more enthusiasm than she’s ever heard from the man. “Though perhaps I shouldn’t be. I have heard stories about working for Stark Industries. I came up with a few gentlemen who worked for Howard Stark back in the day.” He leans back in his chair then, smug look taking over his face. “They left when the boy prodigy took over and started running the place into the ground.”

“Are we recording this?” Clint asks. “I want to play this back for Tony later.”

Tessa raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Really? Well, I guess he’s grown up some since then. Business is booming.”

“Tess,” Steve’s voice filters to her through the earpiece. “You’re not happy with your job, remember?”

“Pure luck, I imagine,” Dr. Scofield replies to her. “But if things are going so well…”

“Right,” she corrects with an awkward laugh. “No… well… I mean, business is great. I can’t complain about that. I just… I’m not getting to do the research that I want.” She shifts to the edge of her seat and crosses her legs toward him, leans forward to close off some of the distance between them. “I was thinking…” She smiles lightly, slowly swinging her hanging foot back and forth in an almost hypnotizing way. “The work we did together on the M-gene… attempting to clone it and activate it within certain tissues to spark cellular regeneration and growth… that’s the sort of thing I want to work on. That’s the type of work that could actually make a difference for people.”

“I’ll bet Tony Stark has you doing things like developing technology for cell resiliency that inhibits hangovers,” he says with a smirk.

She chuckles lightly, laying her palm on his knee. “That would be something he could sell,” she says with a crooked smile.

“You might wanna cool it on the flirting, doll,” Bucky mutters. “He’s starting to look a little spooked.”

“Poor guy’s probably only talked to three women his entire life,” Clint mocks. “And one was his mom.”

“I think she’s got this, guys,” Natasha says blankly.

“Well,” Scofield says, blushing as he pushes his giant glasses back up his nose. “Perhaps I should suggest it to him then. I wouldn’t mind making a small fortune.”

Tessa leans back in her chair, still letting her hanging foot draw lazy patterns in the air just inches from his shin. “I was hoping you might know of something,” she says, drawing out the final word.

“Work on the M-gene? No, nothing much has been done with it since Genetech went under. They held so many patents – ”

“What about the X-gene?” she asks expectantly. “I feel like I’ve been out of that world for so long now, that I don’t even know what people are up to these days.”

He straightens up and gives her a suspicious look. “Research on the X-gene is highly regulated,” he says stiffly.

“Yes, Dr. Scofield, I am aware of that. The M-gene, as well. It’s why we had to be carted of to Minsk to study it.”

“Yes, but… X-factor research is… less theoretical. It makes people nervous.”

“Not me,” she intones, holding eye contact with the man as she runs her tongue lightly over her bottom lip.

“Laying it on a little thick, there Doc?” Clint chuckles into the coms.

“Look,” she says, leaning forward once again and changing her tone to a more conspiratorial one. “I’m going to level with you.” The man nods once. “I shouldn’t know this… but I came across some information. I’ve been doing some work with the Avengers recently – ”

“What the hell,” Bucky hisses from his perch on a rooftop blocks away. “What are you doing?!”

She cringes at the near-shout in her ear, but goes on. “They came across some information, from several years ago, that ties you to some… studies.”

“Tessa,” Steve warns.

“Let her go,” Clint says, his voice suddenly serious. “She might have him.”

“They can’t…” Scofield sputters. “There’s nothing…”

She waves her hands in a calm down gesture. “No, no… they’re not doing anything about it. The experiments are all decades old. I just thought… even if you weren’t doing anything in this… field anymore, that you might know someone who is.”

His eyes go wide for a long moment as he moves from panic to curiosity to an odd sort of calm. “If that is what I think it is, then those studies were long ago abandoned.”

“Oh,” she says disappointedly.

“But…” He smiles wide and leans forward. “If you actually are interested… really interested, then I do have a fellow I could introduce you to.”

A genuine smile spreads across her face as she nods excitedly. “I assure you, Dr. Scofield, I am very interested.”

[pinkhairedlily]

Judgment needed, not judgment deserved

Chapter 7 of The Spring He Came Back | 7 of 12

The academy tribunal was rarely used. When it was opened to the public, it only meant that the students and professors violated the stringent protocols of the academy. Public trial also implied public shaming, a more surefire way to ruin an academic reputation. The regular admission students filled the big room, hushed voices growing along with the shuffling of feet.

It took a while before Hitsugaya to reach the front benches where Soul members were supposed to sit. He almost froze when his eyes met the wavering gaze of Momo. They both said hurtful words, but hers were more painful. She was standing beside Aizen who was still smiling behind the podium. Hitsugaya eventually found Rangiku, Rukia, and Renji sitting behind Urahara and Byakuya.

Unohana stepped forward, her figure commanded the fall of heavy silence in the room. Academy supervisors readied their hands on laptops for real time transcription. “Aizen Sousuke, senior faculty and Soul member, and Hinamori Momo, top student of regular class A, you are facing charges for plagiarism, fraud, and embezzlement. I, Unohana Retsu, will oversee your public trial today. Please acknowledge your audience.”

“What a beautiful day,” Aizen only replied. Hitsugaya can barely keep his irritation under control because while he was keeping that smile on his face, his research assistant was far from pretending to be happy. It didn’t slip his eyes that the professor lightly tapped Momo’s shoulder in a pretend assurance.

“You’re such a liar, Sousuke,” Urahara Kisuke said aloud. Unohana glared at him with her smiling eyes.

“Dr. Urahara, please do not speak unless we acknowledge you. Please respect the rules of our academy.”

“Oh right, I was on sabbatical leave. Many things happened huh? Like you stealing my work?” It was clear Urahara was prodding Aizen on, but the latter only kept smiling without even recognizing his statements. Byakuya placed a hand on Urahara’s shoulder, willing him to calm down in front of such a large crowd.

“Dr. Aizen, please answer in affirmative if you have written the studies published in the following journals….” Unohana listed the titles, all of which Momo assisted in. “Are you aware that your programming method, experiment design, and control treatment parameters were similar with Dr. Urahara Kisuke’s work?”

“I was promptly assisted by my great assistant, Hinamori Momo, in conjuring those designs. It was due to her hard work under my guidance that we were able to come up with such results,” Aizen deftly defended himself. For a minute, Hitsugaya thought he wouldn’t genuinely hurt Momo.

“You submitted a patent application to your design, calling it the Aizen Theorem.”

“That is right, again thanks to the bright idea of my trusted partner, Momo.” The casual use of her nickname didn’t escape Hitsugaya’s ears or the blush that crept on her cheeks.

“Fuck you.” He muttered under his breath. He knew where this was going.

“Are you saying Hinamori Momo is the root of all your charges?”

“I didn’t say anything like that, Dr. Unohana.”

“You are implying it is.”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? Isn’t it the reason why she’s here?” Aizen placed his hand behind Momo’s back and urged her to come at the front, thereby shifting the blame to her.

“She’s not credited for his works, not one.” Hitsugaya tried telling Byakuya. Rukia held him back, her eyes telling him not to interfere.

“Y-yes, it was me.” Momo’s voice was shaking, her eyes can barely look at Unohana. She was still probably angry at Hitsugaya, but her teary gaze wandered to look for him in the sea of indictors. When their eyes met, she conveyed her worry and fears. For Aizen or for herself, he’ll never know.

“Hinamori Momo, did you also know that Dr. Aizen forged his reference papers?”

“That’s not true, Dr. Unohana.” Aizen laughed this off as if it wasn’t a heavy violation.

That easygoing nature was lost on Momo, however. She cannot answer. She was frozen in spot, silently screaming help across Hitsugaya who was also powerless against the hold of his other friends.

“Hinamori Momo, were you involved in preparing budgets for your projects?”

“Y-yes, Dr. Unohana.” Momo’s voice was a desperate plea for help. Aizen, despite being the lead charge in the studies mentioned, looked like he was having the time of his life. He has his model scapegoat, after all. An enamored, naïve research assistant who could take the fall.

“So were you aware that these studies were declared under the academy’s jurisdictions, but the investors’ money were being funneled directly into Dr. Aizen’s personal banks?”

Hinamori, again, failed to answer.

“She has nothing to do with this.” Hitsugaya gritted his teeth.

“If she wasn’t remotely involved, shouldn’t it be simple to say no?” Byakuya asked him in all seriousness. Emotions do not hold metric in their system, but emotions are heavy tolls in Momo’s.

“I…don’t know,” Momo muttered under her breath.

“These are hilarious charges, Unohana.” Aizen dropped the doctor designation. “You don’t even have evidence on us.” His face was truly sure that he was out of the woods.

“Sorry, Toshi,” his mentor told him before standing up with Byakuya. The two of them walked towards Unohana and gave her a black notebook, a folder, and several documents. Hitsugaya’s face fell flat, and cold sweat started kicking in. He was the only one who knew where they were stored.

“These are Urahara Kisuke’s field notes, your forged references, and budget documents – we managed to gather them from Hinamori’s house. We received a call from one of the investors, wondering why no one apart from you was collaborating with them. An internal team investigated your office but found nothing.” Unohana looked directly at Momo, but she was staring at Hitsugaya. “An informant tipped us where to find them.”

Momo - wide-eyed and filled with bitter tears of betrayal. If he could hear her silent screams, it would be a ringing why, and he couldn’t give an answer. He never disclosed the location of the notebook or talked about the references with anyone. He never shared his messy, confused thoughts or his turmoil in her decisions. He endured his pain alone so why would he weaponize it to get back to her? Why would he when he loves her?

“Convenient, isn’t it?” Aizen asked dryly. The smile was nowhere to be seen, only a grim countenance.

“A third-party laboratory analyzed these documents, Aizen.” Unohana also dropped the honorific. Damn the damned. “They did cross-comparisons of your handwriting and Urahara’s. They were significantly different, as well as from the hundreds of designs and blueprints we found. University references have unique watermarks in hard copies which yours didn’t have. The budget documents we sent over to the investors. You should know by now they pulled out of our town’s development.”

“Plead guilty now, Sousuke.” Urahara antagonized him further.

If his wounded gaze could convey his sincerest thoughts to her, she wouldn’t have probably done the next thing.

“It was all me, Dr. Unohana.” Momo raised her hand. Her eyes were brimming with tears but she dared not blink. “I fed Dr. Aizen the notebook, the documents, and I suggested he source out personal funds from the academy investment. It was all me. Please don’t give him a sentence. Please punish me instead.”

“Momo, no.” Hitsugaya was scrambling to stand up. Three pairs of strong arms held him down to his seat, three faces all similarly pained.

There was a clear power imbalance between the mentor and the research assistant which Hitsugaya’s group and the senior faculty knew, but Aizen played this to his advantage.

“Why don’t you put it to a vote?” a student called out.

“Dr. Aizen wouldn’t do such thing.” “He is so kind to us.” “He’s so intelligent he doesn’t even need that.” “He will never use a student that way.” “The audacity of that peasant to feed him lies? Sickening. She deserves to be banished.”

Bit by bit, the whispers grew into a full-blown uproar. This was the flaw of the public tribunal, a flaw that Aizen turned into an opportunity. The board members of the academy called Unohana to the side and delivered their judgment.

“Hinamori Momo, starting today, you are expelled from the academy.”

It was a judgment needed, but not the judgment deserved. Because Hinamori Momo was a girl from an unknown background with no strong backing. Because she was a student while Aizen came from a family with a high pedigree. Because she dedicated her life to a man who emotionally manipulated her. Because she was too trusting, too naïve, too easily swayed. Because she has emotions. Because she was Momo.

She was ushered out by some administrators, her eyes glued to the ground. They were soon followed by shuffling of feet and disgruntled students heaving sighs of relief from the ordeal. When all of that has come to pass, it was Aizen’s turn to go.

“Such a drag, huh?” Aizen mentioned to no one in particular. “Hoping you could catch me?”

“I am advising you to transfer,” Unohana hasn’t backed down. “That was what the board wanted.”

“Ahead of you, Retsu. That’s exactly my next step.” Aizen stopped beside the bench where Hitsugaya’s group still stood waiting. “Though it was unfortunate to let go of Momo. How sweet that girl was, so willing and so hardworking, to the point that she left her grandma alone to work.”

If blood could boil, Hitsugaya’s veins could have popped, drowning Aizen with his heated rage.

“Too bad that her best friend outed her, huh? If only she was more careful of who she associated with.”

A punch landed on Aizen face and then several more. Hitsugaya was but thirteen but his fists saw older days on the streets. After all, he was a peasant and a peasant always fought back. The fucker was the one who tipped the investigators, making Momo think it was Hitsugaya. He probably could have bought them himself. He capitalized on Hitsugaya and Momo’s relationship to drive a rift and completely separate himself from the problem. The fucker was a master emotional manipulator.

A flurry of robes forcefully grabbed Hitsugaya away from a smirking Aizen. “Fucking liar.”

“Hitsugaya Toushiro!” Byakuya rarely raised his voice, but the intensity of his warning stiffened Hitsugaya.

Aizen walked out of the classroom, seemingly unruffled as if he didn’t have a bruised eye or a cut lip. It took all of Hitsugaya’s energy not to go after him and put more damages in.

“Still the same MO,” Urahara said. “Best be careful around him, Toshi.”

“You know you need to be reprimanded for this, Hitsugaya.” Unohana said. “But I won’t because you’re one of our best.”

---------------------

The secret hideout and their silent reprieve – it became his escape. He couldn’t go to Momo to comfort her. From her understanding, he betrayed her. So he wallowed in self-pity, in helplessness, in his weakness. It wasn’t enough that he was like this. He skipped all his classes, didn’t do his experiments, and avoided the well-meaning questions of his friends. He picked fights, especially with regulars. They kept on calling Momo names, painting her to be the manipulator that put Aizen in such a complicated position when it was the other way around.

The opportunity came when Byakuya called him to his office. Urahara was there too. It was probably about his behavior.

“You can’t protect your friend like this,” his mentor told him. “Not when Sousuke still roams the academic field like a vulture.”

“We need to permanently excommunicate him,” Byakuya concurred. “We can only do that if we catch him red-handed alone, with no one to pass the blame on. He has done this exact operation in previous schools, but his networks run deep.”

“And he just appears to his next victim school like a mushroom.” Urahara poured Hitsugaya tea, and his heart throbbed in pain because Momo used to do that. “With a clean slate. So bigger higher-ups must be involved, funneling research and development funds into shady accounts yada yada.”

“What exactly do you want me to do?” Hitsugaya asked his mentors.

“You’re still a kid, Toshi.” Urahara ruffled his silver hair and his mind jolted back to a memory of a daffodil flower crown, Momo’s smile, and that last hug. “You can’t go around picking fights for her sake. It’s a lost cause. She’s shunned by the community.”

“You can’t continue associating yourself with her, Hitsugaya,” Byakuya added. “Because that will be an added burden. You’ll only rise from this. But when you do and you choose to remain here, she will not be rid of those comments. Considering your history, she’ll be accused again of feeding you plagiarized notes, helping you with fraud, and embezzling funds.”

“No one can protect her from those. She has no friends left,” Hitsugaya interjected. In no world will he leave Momo alone. He can’t see past the reasons given by his teachers. “She only has….me.” The doubt was in the open before he could open his lips. Not after the public tribunal. She made the decision that he wasn’t on her side.

Urahara took away the already cold tea in his hands and smiled at him through his long fringes. “Or you could go abroad, become the best, catch Aizen red-handed, and clear her name. Sounds good, right? Come with me again, my intern.”

---------------------

Snow marked the start of winter. Hitsugaya waited beside Urahara on the platform outside of town, the train arriving at their station any time soon. He made his goodbyes to Rukia, Renji, and Rangiku, all three asking silently whether it was okay to tell Momo. He shook his head in defiance, not wanting to trouble her further.

When the train arrived, he almost hesitated. At the very least, he wanted to see her again and Baba and share a watermelon for the last time. The doors opened and Urahara signaled to go inside quickly.

Please mind your distance. The doors are closing soon. The doors are closing soon.

The doors finally closed and Hitsugaya leaned on the side, tears pooling in his eyes. It was goodbye. The wheels started to keep pace and the slow fall of white snow turned into a flurry. As the train left the station, he caught a glimpse of loose black hair dancing with the wind. Maybe he just imagined it.

NEXT CHAPTER | 8 OF 12 | BREATHING IS A FOREIGN TASK

[toysoldiers-rwby]

[SYT] 5. the leading lamb

Show Your Teeth

Characters: Fiona, Winter, May, Robyn, Joanna Rating: Mature Tags: implied abuse, hurt/comfort, parental sibling, confessions, fluff Word Count: 7,219

Summary: Three Mantle Rats are invited to an Atlesian Party. What can go wrong?

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A/N: as a survive it’s very important for me to NEVER focus on the abuse itself. I try very hard to imply it and show the damage it can do but honestly I’m tired of reading stories where it’s just pain. So I try very hard to focus on the recovery and healing. I’d love feedback on this. Also check Ao3 for NSFW art lol. i forgot tumblr hates links so i think i’ll just edit it back in after a week or something to keep things organized.

Some how a shopping trip also turned into a raid on the local arcade. Fiona was winning despite what all the leaderboards was saying. Winter was cheating, she had to be. Robyn and Joanna was the better shot, they were the only ones that used range weapons a regular basis! Still Winter came in first. May should have won the batter’s game, her favorite weapon was a staff. Number One? Winter Schnee. The other three loudly cheered Fiona on as she adjusted her grip on the hammer.  

The last game was a the gold on ‘Test of the Strength.’ Sure, some of was actual strength but almost all of it was leverage. Fiona loved stealing… borrowing! Loved borrowing heavy weapons. Axes… Elm’s hammer. She almost got Marrow’s boomerang and still had two years to do it. A worker quickly stepped in as Joanna was some how about to convince the man they’ll settle the matter like adults.  

Several minutes later they had enough tickets to buy all the giant stuff animals on display. Like adults, everyone gave their tickets to the children nearby.  

Like an adult, Fiona slammed her fist on the counter and demanded the giant lion.  

“By the brothers, Fi…” Robyn mumbled a little embarrassed.

It was the fifth time she’d manage to surprise and fluster the women. Fiona wasn’t counting the smirk tugging at her lips and cute mole on her chin. The fluttering in her chest wasn’t getting worse and her hands didn’t feel cold and empty when she looked at Robyn. Fiona only hugged her stuff animal tighter.

“I won and Winter cheated! I deserve a trophy!” Fiona argued sticking her tongue out at them. In truth she just needed something to desperately keep her hands occupied. Joanna was the only one that smiled fondly at her and ruffled her hair. The other three acted disappointed.  

And to be extra annoying she refused to absorbed it and forced the group to return to Robyn’s apartment. Fiona dumped several bags of clothes onto the living room floor and then took the couch with her new best friend. May took the time to choose to pick out everyone’s outfit and will most likely buy a few more accessories when they head up to Atlas.  

“What should I name it?” Fiona asked with a grin, ears wiggling happily.  

“Childish,” Robyn said with a soft teasing bite. Fiona didn’t notice the way her eyes light up, all bright and unguarded. Or noticed Robyn’s habit of blowing her fringe out of her eyes.  

“Deviant,” May said slowly shifting through the bags. Eventually the others helped her but Fiona stayed on the couch.  

“Selfish,” Joanna added.  

“You all suck,” Fiona mumbled. She fell back, laying down on the couch and not even taking up all the space. She held up the stuff lion above her, playing with its tiny round ears as her own fluttered happily.  

Today was the most fun she had in years. And not because of the sex. A sudden shiver rolled through Fiona’s body, a flash of heat dried her mouth and warmed her cheeks. The sight of Robyn stretched out before her… The sweetness rolling off her tongue and down her chin and neck. Her ears fluttered, remembering how Robyn screamed Fiona’s name.  

Fiona buried her face against the muzzle. Trying not to groan at the memory. Robyn was her teammate, going to be her huntress partner. Not… Fiona tried to shelved her dancing heart. It was just… stress relief between friends. Casual hookups and friends with benefits weren’t unheard of when majority of Atlas’ population was asexual.  

Robyn will be her new partner. They’ll pass their combat final with flying colors and… and ideally Robyn will stay. Fiona swallowed her racing heart back down to her chest. She’d get to see those stupid eyes everyday.  

“I’ll name you… Spring.” Fiona said cuddling her trophy. Robyn glanced at her with a smirk and raised brow. “For new beginnings!” Fiona huffed and pouted at the women. Robyn’s smile eased the tension from her shoulders, looking… a lot how like Winter looks at May. Stupidly fond and earnest and Fiona had to look away with ears fluttering about.  

“You have competition now,” Joanna teased, elbowing her partner. Fiona saw a light blush on Robyn’s tanned cheeks for a second. They all turned back to the elites, noticing May holding up an outfit that wasn’t for any of them.  

“They won’t be able to do any compression for awhile,” Winter said. They, meaning the Thief. Fiona sat up, resting her chin on her trophy’s shoulder. The two elites picked out an outfit for the Thief on their last shopping trip. May shifted a little more, looking away uncomfortably.  

Fiona realized that she never saw May in anything that she didn’t want to wear. She switched between the boy’s and girl’s uniform according to her mood, wore makeup whenever she felt like it and never because it was required. Fiona always thought it was May being May, a rebellious brat tired of all the rules… the rules just never applied to her in the beginning.  

Fiona touched her ears, only being able to relate on a different level. “Scarf’s are good too,” Fiona said. Her teammates gave her a pointed look with a soft sneer. Fiona pouted at it back before Robyn playfully sat down next to her and tugged at the scarf around her neck.  

“Are you ever going to give it back?” May tried to be teasing but was still a little tense.  

“Maybe… not?” Fiona mumbled, an idea hitting her. She blushed and looked away. It was stupid and humans always got the wrong impression but it was true. “Maybe we should give it to the Thief-”  

“Glade,” May gently reminded.  

“We should give it to Glade,” Fiona corrected. “They responded pretty well to me and May so it might calm them down.” Joanna and Robyn glanced at each other a little confused. “Um… Faunus are wired differently,” Fiona answered, fidgeting a little in her seat. She never actually had to explain it to May and Winter. The pair picked up on it because they’re secretly super attentive and sweet. “We’re not hunting dogs, it works on a subconscious level and we don’t really notice it.” Fiona said. She was dancing around the subject a little because her nose was a little more sensitive than the average Faunus. Everyone had their own unique scent. Winter smelled of cool fresh air, like fresh dawn and a new beginning. May smelled of flowers, so soft it wrapped and cuddle Fiona from the inside.  

Robyn and Joanna smelled like the forest of Mistral. Deep and rich, the kind of ground you could really set roots in and grace with flowers. Every bit of them was different parts of a home Fiona would like some day. No wonder Glade snuck in earlier.  

Robyn and Joanna raised a brow. The slight movement helping Fiona realize she was quiet a little too long, “People just smell nice,” Fiona blurted out with a blush. “Familiar smells are calming while strangers are…”  

“Upsetting?” Robyn asked.  

“Kinda? It’s why May cuddles me when we need to sleep in hotels.”  

“And why they practically dragged you into Robyn’s room last night,” Joanna said with chuckled, “That’s adorable.” The three students blushed softly.  

The little lamb grumbled and shifted in her seat. Fiona didn’t tell them it was a sign of trust and acceptance in Faunus culture. So when they dropped off the clothes at the clinic and the Thief- Glade, walked into the clinic’s staff lounge with the scarf wrapped around their neck, Fiona smiled brightly, ears wiggling happily.  

They chose the grunge outfit her elites bought, subtly turtling into the scarf as they tucked their wavy pale green hair into beanie… Keeping their eyes closed until they slipped on the dark reflective shades. Was their Faunus trait their eyes? Where they nocturnal or did they have non-human eyes?  

“Thanks,” The Thief. said with a soft smile.  

“Yeah, of course,” May tried to act like Winter, stoic and aloof. It was an adorable failure that had Fiona and her group of mismatched friends snickering. She grumbled at the mismatch group and looked focused on Dr. Pietro, “Are you attending the Schnee recital tonight?”  

“Perhaps, Young Glade here has offered to help me finish my work but I will definitely attending Silvio’s birthday later this week,” Dr. Pietro said with a smile while the Thief frowned a little.  

“Glade? What am I a stray dog?”  

“We even got you a collar,” May taunted, pulling at collar of their flannel shirt. Glade only scoffed and quickly retreated back into the clinic, favoring one side over the other. Everyone noticed and gave Dr. Pietro a worried look.  

“A broken leg that never healed right. Completely unrelated to what happened this morning.” Dr. Pietro said. " We had a close call with Ms. Goodwitch and Silvio earlier but they’ll be safe. If they stay here," He stressed the last bit loudly and pointedly.  

“I promise I’ll keep you all out of trouble,” Glade yelled somewhere in the clinic.  

“Not reassuring!” Fiona yelled back as they left. She took a few dancing steps in front of the group, smiling up at her friends, “So we ready to head back to Atlas?”  

“Let’s see… Glade? Treated and recovering. Window. Fixed. Weapons?” Robyn asked.  

“Check!” Fiona smile with a flick of her wrist, a switchblade was suddenly in her hands and flicked open. The others seemed to falter a little, a quick blush appearing on everyones face and Robyn looking particularly… bothered. Fiona only brightly smiled at her until Winter cleared her throat.  

“Atlesian lesson 101?” The Schnee asked next.  

“They’re bitches,” May and Robyn answered at the same time. Fiona giggled as Winter lightly glared at them both. “Public opinion is everything,” Robyn answered. “And 102, deliver what they think they want.”  

What the Atlesians wanted from Robyn wasn’t far from who she actually was.  

Joanna cleared her throat, “An average civilian, rising to the occasion to save a brilliant mind during a sudden attack on Mantle, the charismatic hero who always gets the girl in the end,” she narrated the hard-light poster dramatically before throwing her head back and laughing.  

Thank god Winter had the foresight to drag them to Schnee Manor before the actual recital started. The only people around were servers, security, and fiends. It gave time for the Mantle Rats to get used to the environment, to the disgusting show of wealth. They had space for real trees in the city. Gated behind a wall with security cameras pointing out in every direction. Marble, chrome, rich dark oaks constructed the building and hard-light lamps advertised the Schnee emblem and tied it all with a soft blue glow.  

Then there was the hijacked hard-light poster.  

It was suppose to be displaying the poster May showed them earlier today, Weiss sinking on stage. Instead it was Robyn. Valiantly fighting Grimm in the foreground, fending off those creepy long fingers and giving Fiona time to grab Silvio as the ground erupted beneath them. Fiona tilted her head.  

It looked like a movie still.  

A very hot one Fiona would probably take for herself later but it didn’t feel right. “Is this what people see when they watch Huntsmen and Huntresses fight?” She asked softly. “Just action and adventure? Not, y’know… helping people?”  

“It always seems like saving people is the ultimate form of help. It gets rather tiresome.”  

The group turned around to see Goodwitch approaching. Her usual wear was formal enough, a lot more than the group’s casual suits and dresses. Robyn’s tie was purposely loose the top two buttons left open for that perfectly clean your-not-important-enough-for-me-to-care persona the group decided on. Just thinking about it made Fiona’s hand twitched. She wanted to pull at it for a while now. She enjoyed Robyn’s shock and flustered face and that tie… Robyn’s her teammate, not a casual fuck.  

Fiona took a slow breath and looked back up at Goodwitch who eye did bounce between the gold bird pin everyone wore on their body.  

“I’d like to formally apologize on Qrow’s behalf,” Goodwitch said a bit reluctantly. “Though I do not apologize for his absence. He’ll probably just puke all over the floor or hassle the servers.”  

"If you want to apologize stop bringing up that drunk," May said, her arm leaving the small dip of WInter’s back. Winter tried to stay relax but was glaring hard up at the Vale huntress.  

Goodwitch smile, “Best idea all day. Worse being people sneaking Grimm into the city,” She finished looking at Robyn and Fiona. The words made Fiona’s heartbeat leap into her throat. There… that was one explanation. The only reasonable. May did say something about a greater plan. Glade was the only one that acted- No. Fiona looked at Robyn, Glade was the only one that had the skill and resources to act. “James has told me you’ve looked into previous cases, Detective Hill?”  

Detect… Detective?! Fiona tried not to sputter at the title. She tried to relax her ears, stop them from sticking straight out from the sides of her head. Joanna chuckled softly beside her and ruffled her hear, unfreezing her muscles.  

“Fighting rings have started to bring in small non-Atlas Grimm to spice things up,” Robyn said. Fiona pulled her head out of the gutter, trying to focus on the conversation. Joanna set a hand on her partner’s shoulder, calming her down enough to continue civilly. “We’ve been trying to get the military involved for months.”  

“Do you think these events are related?” Goodwitch asked.  

“We put a dent in the major rings so I hope not,” Joanna whispered. “If Atlas gangs figure out how to turn Grimm into weapons…” Fiona didn’t want to think about those Imps agains.  

“We’re already seeing some bandit tribes in Anima use similar tactics,” Goodwitch informed. One reason why Atlas was so crowded and industrialized was that Solitas made living outside of proper settlements difficult. Normal citizens without a protective Aura can’t even leave the kingdom without expensive equipment. “Extort them for protection by leading the Grimm to them and leave them once the main horde arrives.”  

“They can’t all be connect,” Robyn said firmly shaking her head. “Twisted mines follow the same path every now and then.”  

Goodwitch stared at the group for a long while, then smiled sadly, “I don’t suppose I can steal you from Atlas, can I?” Goodwitch asked.  

“She’s mine,” Fiona blurted out, heart skipping a few beats as panic filled her for a second. She was so close to making things up to Winter and May. Just one last thing before they all continue with their training and studies, two years until they graduation. Robyn nudged her out of it a playful smirk comforting the little lamb. “She’s my partner for our combative final.”  

“Ridiculous,” Goodwitch said with a deep scowl, “With how you all fought, I’ll see ensure James pass the three of you and accept you two into the Academy,” She looked at the students then at the detectives. The group blinked stunned until Goodwitch raised a brow.  

“Thank you… ma’am,” Winter said softly. Even her eyes were wide.  

Goodwitch only nodded. She turned on those high heels and practically marched away, “I look forward to working with you ladies again.”  

“As long as that creepy as bird doesn’t break my shit!” Robyn called out after her. Robyn was practically bouncing, a large smile on her face as grabbed Joanna’s hands and practically bounced, “Heard that Joan! We’re Atlas students-”  

“Your an Atlas student.” Joanna said pulling her hands free and pushing them firm on Robyn’s shoulders to stop her small bounce. " We don’t have the money for both of us to attend."  

Fiona winced in sympathy, “I’m on almost five scholarships and it’s… not easy,” Fiona said softly. She needed to write essay’s attend tournaments, her workload was nearly tripped the average student’s. Another reason why she was so desperate to stay with Winter and May, another team would just hold her back. “I’m lucky i got teamed up with a perfectionist and a competitive idiot.” She nodded to Winter and May, both avoiding their gaze with an uncomfortable look. This wasn’t a conversation her elites usually hear.  

Robyn scowled, gritting her teeth. Joanna smiled and patted her head like a she was pouting puppy, “We’ll figure something out Rob… Today is still our day off, right?” She looked at May who nodded.  

“Would you two like a small tour of the manor?” Winter ask, already leading the group out of the foyer. They headed to the kitchen first, trying to walk past all the giant paintings of her family but Robyn stopped at the giant portrait. Winter tried to encourage the group to walk past but Joanna eyed the giant suit of armor and sword next to it. “My grandfather, Nicolas Schnee.”  

“I read about him,” Joanna said, “When Robyn first suggested we go to Atlas Academy I laughed at her.”  

“Yeah, I was so hurt I almost kicked you out,” Robyn mumbled. She turned towards Winter, “But you three know why we want to become Huntresses now.”  

Fiona looked at Winter who pressed her lips tight. She only turned and walked deeper into the manor, forcing the group to follow. May didn’t leave her side, pressing into her shoulder every time a server passed with a tray of empty wine glasses. Their hands brushed every so often but neither of them made a move to hold on.  

It was obvious why May joined. Winter was hung up on the fact that they only met their new friends yesterday.  

“Same as you but a little different,” Fiona said, wiggling her ears for effect. “To help everyone, Mantle is just the start-” Suddenly hear ears perked up, flicking in the direction of the private area of the manor. It sounded like glass breaking.  

“Damn it…” May mumbled. This time her hand finally slid into Winter’s, “I’ll check, you stay.”  

“No.” Winter said, voice brittle and body so taunt it was ready to snap. Fiona hung back, letting May try and calm her not-girlfriend teammate. She also stopped Robyn from springing into action.  

May stepped close, their heads leaned together to whisper as soft as possible. Fiona tried to ignore it but it was impossible with how quiet the hallways were. “You come, they come.” May said. Then her voice soften, “Please… Don’t put this all on me, Win.”  

Winter blinked. Blue eyes shinning and cracking. Fiona would never say tears were in her eyes. After another squeeze Winter finally relaxed and let go of May’s hand. “Alright… Let’s go-”  

“Stop! Please!” Silvio’s voice broke through the thick walls.  

Immediately the group broke into a sprint. Winter was the fastest and Fiona was trailing behind her after absorbing her heels. A Glyph light the hallway. Before Fiona could stop her, a Beowolf roared, crawling out of it and slashing the door opened. She could hear two kids scream and another glass breaking.  

Fiona only had a moment to take in the scene before the two kids ran towards them. Three adults and thanks to Fiona’s sensitive nose she could smell some alcohol on all their breaths. Weiss was in Winter’s arms in seconds and once Silvio stumbled out of Author Watt’s slacken grip, he was behind May.  

“Let’s go.” May shoved Winter out of the room. She fought it, eyes on her mother and father. The Beowolf slowly growling.  

“Please,” Weiss whispered. That finally broke Winter’s furious trance. She stepped back but left her Beowolf growling viciously it made Fiona’s ears twitch painfully low.  

May lead them back to kitchens, Fiona could tell by the delicious smell and the clanking pots. It was the only life in the manor, the staff singing loudly and enjoying their work until the rich snobs came in and they’d have to act pleasant. When the group came in they immediately froze, nervous. They took one look at the kids and quieted down. The singing wasn’t as loud but still lively and cheerful.  

Fiona watched some energy and return to the kids, a small weight lifting off their shoulders as Klein quickly appeared. His light brown eyes shifted from them to Winter, “Oh dear… what happened now-”  

“Nothing.” Weiss said softly.  

“Nothing new,” Silvio said with a scoff. He sat at the table, taking a dessert and stuffing it in his face before retreating into his Scroll. Klein sighed and replaced it with a fresh treat from the counter.  

Fiona looked at Winter and May who gave her a gentle pleading look. The little lamb grabbed both Joanna and Robyn’s hands, leading them out of the kitchen. “Come on, their garden has real flowers in them,” Fiona said, trying to sound cheerful for the sake of the kids. Weiss didn’t smile and Silvio didn’t look up from his Scroll.  

No one wanted to speak until they got the garden. Even then the heavy silence lingered, growing heavier as the trio watched the sunset on a bench. Finally Joanna sigh let out a loud sigh, leaning heavily into Fiona and pushing her into Robyn who easily bore the additional weight of two people.  

“Maybe we should take Goodwitch’s offer and go to Vale?” Joanna mused softly. “It’d be cheaper too. Warmer. Friendlier.”  

“But they don’t need us,” Fiona said softly.  

Robyn came back to reality. Fiona and Joanna had to right themselves as she leaned forward and rubbed her face. “That is so messed up… Not even the rich has it easy in this fucking kingdom,” She was trembling. Voice on the verge of breaking and so damn angry. When Fiona tried bending down Robyn harshly turned away.  

“I can smell you crying… sensitive nose remember?” Fiona whispered. She moved, taking Robyn’s other side so her and Joanna could sandwich Robyn in. Her hand hesitated, hovering above Robyn’s knee. Just as she was about to pull back Robyn uncurled and grabbed her hand. She held onto tightly as she leaned her head on Joanna’s shoulder and whipped away the tears with her other hand. “Now you know why they’re so protective of me… And why Winter wants to become a huntress.” Fiona said softly, rubbing comforting circles on Robyn’s skin with her thumb.  

“What’s good is being an officer if I can’t even arrest a drunk huntsmen, let alone those three,” Joanna growled. She took a deep breath. Her arm was long enough to rest heavily on Robyn and Fiona’s shoulder. It was like a loose hold, so Fiona snuggled into both of them. For a long moment they all just sat there, letting their brains turn off.  

Winter was the first to find them with a tray of food and drinks. She looked guilty but smiled seeing Fiona’s and Robyn’s hand tightly intertwine. Fiona haded how soft Winter’s voice came out, “I’m… I’m sorry you three had to see that.” She said. Fiona got up, passing the tray to Robyn and wrapping her arms tight around Winter.  

“I’m sorry we can’t do anything they deserve,” Joanna said back. The three Mantle Rats invited Winter to sit with them on the bench but Winter politely refused, withdrawing a little instead. But she was here… and May asked her not to put it all on her anymore.  

Fiona extruded a picnic blanket for them to sit on. Joanna and Robyn looked comfortable on the bench looked relaxed stretched out on the ground. After some thought, Robyn dropped her head onto Fiona’s lap. The little lamb smiled down at her, both enjoying and needing a sense of touch. Fiona selfishly let her heart beat faster, eyes wandering to Robyn lips and eyes as she played with the platinum strands of hair.  

The cowardly part of Fiona wished Robyn didn’t relax the way she did, closing her eyes and humming softly in approval. At same time she’d hope to see it more. No wonder her two elite always got grumpy whenever their morning routine was interrupted.  

“We’ve dealt with families with… similar situation,” Robyn explained, slowly turning her brain back on. “I can recommend some good therapist for your sister. Silvio too.”  

“That’d… that’d be much appreciated. You’d have to talk to May about Silvio, she’s already helping him with… other things.” Winter said softly. She hide half her face behind a drink, her eyes meeting Fiona’s for a moment then down to Robyn and Joanna. “Thank you,” She whispered into her drink.  

“Don’t thank me yet,” Robyn said with a small smile. She rolled onto her stomach and Fiona missed the warmth of her scalp and softness of her hair. “One more thing. Just pin May to the wall and fuck her already.” Winter blushed hard, coughing softly and trying to clear her throat. Joanna patted her back while Fiona giggled.  

“I… I can’t-”  

"Can’t? You practically fucking her through me," Robyn continued to press. Winter blushed harder, completely off balance and embarrassed by the topic. It was rare a sight, one that only May pulls off on a good day so Fiona jumped in.  

“Technically, I was fucking you,” Fiona corrected, lightly flicking Robyn’s nose. “Because Winter’s too sweet on May to actually fuck another person,” She leaned forward and grinning at the Schnee. Winter tried to get Fiona to submit with a hard look. When Fiona started wiggling her brows a little Winter was forced to set her drink down or risk spilling it all over their semi-formal clothes. She barely remembered they were here for an Atlesian party.  

“I don’t know if I should be upset that you two noticed before May did,” Winter grumbled softly. “But I didn’t think she liked me back until this morning.”  

Fiona tapped her chin thinking back on their years together. “Honestly… I didn’t either. You? You were so obvious! The morning routines with the hair, how protective you were over her!” The pair might have edged each other to the extremes but that also meant they were always softer and much more relaxed when together.  

“I have been hinting at it when since we were young,” Winter confessed. All the Mantle rats flinched. Joanna ran a hand through her hair, messing up the gel the Marigold styled it with.  

“Well of course May don’t realize it!” Joanna said with an annoyed sigh. “You’ve been giving her mix signals-”  

"How was this morning mixed signals?!" Winter hissed with a deepening blush.  

“Just tell her,” Robyn said waving her hand.  

“Tell who what?” May asked rounding the corner of bushes with another tray of food. “Klein wanted to make Fiona’s favorite since we haven’t snuck back in awhile.”  

“Yes!” Fiona cheered taking the tray of fruits and sweets, strawberries covered in chocolates to fluffy cream stuffed puff. After throwing one in her mouth she teasingly dangled one in front of Robyn’s face. The women rolled her eyes, taking a bite of the strawberry and watching as Fiona finished it off.  

May sneered, “Glad I haven’t missed much.”  

“They’re trying to convince me to tell you about my undying love for you,” Winter said, in her default tightly controlled and dry tone. Before anyone could act surprised May threw her head back and laughed so hard her face went a little red.  

“Yeah! Do it after Weiss’ performance.” May said with a bratty cute grin. Fiona tensed, a smile plastered to her face as she tried not to scream. Damn it May! “Announce our engagement so your father and my cousin can die of a heart attack!” She bent down, taking Winter’s hands and gently pulling her up, “Come on! Show’s starting soon and Silvio wouldn’t shut up about us grabbing front row seats.”  

Within a few minutes the the theater was full and the lights dimmed to darkness. Fiona looked around. Her eyes spotting most of the military in the booths above the crowd. Goodwitch sitting irritably next to General Ironwood. Across from them senior Clover Ebi was sitting next to the freshmen Marrow. The other Faunus was busy looking around the theater too, a determine look on his face.  

“There’s a lot of Atlas students here…” Fiona whispered a little uneasily.  

“We do have two Atlesian scientist and the one visiting from Vale with his family,” Robyn said. Fiona looked back up the balconies. Sure enough she spotted the Vale scientist with his Faunus wife and daughter.  

Unfortunately due to May and Robyn’s hassling each other, they didn’t get center seats, but from this angle Fiona was able to see just behind the curtains. At the side of the stage was a hooded figure in robs… Weiss next to them with Silvio a little ways off. Fiona strained her ears but it was too far.  

The hooded not-Schnee figure took the center of the stage and from his Scroll Silvo activated the music. A slow piano piece fitting for the rich audience. Slowly the stage lights turned on, letting Fiona’s sensitive eyes adjust while gradually getting brighter for the humans to see, piano growing louder, picking up tempo.  

“You are an ocean of waves, weaving a dream like thoughts, become a river stream,” the mysterious stranger sang. Her voice was lower than Weiss. A shock mummer spread across the crowd but the opening act wasn’t phased even as Fiona watched the military in the booths grow a little tense. They only relaxed when they realized another voice would join occasionally, Weiss standing beside Silvio, harmonizing into her mic. “Yet may the tide every change, flowing like time to the path, yours to climb.”  

Fiona turned back to the stage, ears flinching a little whenever the music was too high for her sensitive ears. Whoever the mysterious singer was, she knew how to entertain walking the stage, posing and gesturing to the audience until the easily swayed like Marrow was at the edge of his seat and the reserved ones like Vine was absolutely enthralled. Robyn looked amazed, beautiful lavender eyes wide.  

“Thou seek the light with an outstretched hand,” Slowly the opening act’s voice faded. Weiss’ voice growing louder but she hadn’t walked on stage yet, “A divine blade lies before you so command the wake of dreams, to restore the world, cut 'way the seams,”  

Then the tempo picked up yet again, a drum encouraging Fiona’s heart into a powerful and steady beat. The mysterious singer reached out the audience, “Join in our prayer, in our song of birthrights and love,” She sang loudly. Weiss’ voice slowly appeared again, matching harmonizing so perfectly it had Fiona’s ears shuttering in pleasure, “Come the sun, illuminate the sky. Pray that we may quell the dark. Light take the throne. Lost in thoughts, all alone.”  

Then the lights dimmed, the music slowed to pause. Fiona heard Robyn and Joanna catch their breath next to her. Fiona saw the mysterious singer rush to the side, encouraging Weiss onto the stage. She vigorously shook her head for a moment until Silvio whispered his own words of encouragement, gesturing to where Winter was sitting.  

With a huff and a stomp she rushed to her position, the opening act helping her on the left and then rushed to their own position on the right side. It was then she noticed the slight shaking in her hands. As Silvio increased the lighting, Fiona could see the redness in her eyes she missed before.  

Poor kid. Still having to preform after the bullshit three adults put her through. Fiona heard Robyn gasp softly, “This is all improved…” she muttered.  

The verse repeated but this time the music didn’t slow. The drums became louder, drums and violins filling Fiona with a rush as she listened to every word, “Thou seek the dark with an un-sheathed blade,” Weiss’ voice was beautiful, it sent chills down her spine and the haunting familiarity of her assistant pulled everyone in like it was story, “Now a white ivory throne beckons so obtain the fate you sow on this path be wary friend and foe.”  

The way they moved on stage, circling each other or stepping close and matching their steps was almost poetic. “May thy chosen path lead way, and grace you with virtue but surely balance awaits,” Slowly Weiss took the lead, the opening act smiling as Weiss’ hands stopped shaking. She looked directly at her sister in the front row, “So be it bliss or pain you gain beyond the route-way’s end. You’ll gain resilience and weakness. The trials, the thorn in your side becomes the greatest strength, in you.”  

The song was a message to her sister, Fiona realized with a happy smile. She looked at the older Schnee. Winter looked proud. She reached over to her partner, grabbing her hand giving it a thankful squeeze. Fiona glanced at Robyn her own hand feeling stupidly empty. Until she notice Silvio and the hooded singer nodding at each other.  

“Descend into the abyss thou see- Hey!” Weiss screamed as she was suddenly shoved into the orchestra pit. One of the musicians threw their instrument aside to catch her. The crowd gasped, all the military huntsmen and students shocked in their seats. The music changed, suddenly blaring through the speakers but the volume wasn’t enough to make Fiona flinch.  

“The future is bulletproof the after is secondary!” The opening act sang. Finally the hooded opening act ripped off their hood. Fiona’s mouth hung open as a familiar helmet and gold horns standing on stage. I promise I’ll keep you all out of trouble, Glade said before they left Mantle. “It’s time to do it now and do it loud!”  

“Are you serious!?” May screamed in the theater. Fiona looked at her elites. May was almost pulling her hair out and Winter jumped into the orchestra pit to check on her sister. Glade grinned, hard-light ears taking shape and floating above their helmet.  

They pointed at May, “Kill joys! Make some noise!”  

“Your fucking dead-”  

“Na, na, na, na, na!” Glade stomped their feet in time with the rock music. Fiona barely pushed May back into her seat as the military moved in. Thankfully it was the students first. Vine swinging in with his semblance and Elm’s massive thighs launched her off the balcony and towards the stage. But Glade only smiled, never missing a beat, “Drugs, gimme drugs, gimme drugs, I don’t need it but I’ll sell what you got,” The pair was only able to make an entrance. The Dust in Glade’s clothes glowed a bright purple. A low warping sound ran deep in the room. Vine gasp a sudden weight pulling him down with Elm. It was enough force for the pair to crash through the stage.  

The crowd sneered and laughed. “Bring what Rat in and they all come,” Someone said behind them. Fiona was pretty sure it was May’s cousin but she wasn’t about to ask the Marigold to check. Fiona only kept watching. Winter had snuck Weiss back behind the curtain and was now glaring at Silvio. It looked like she was trying to lecture them but the kids were smiling, busy watching Marrow clumsily climb onto the stage while Harriet appeared with a trail of lightning behind her.  

Fiona laughed at the nervous looking boy, “Come on Marrow!” She cheered. Glade has yet to attack anything sentient and alive so he won’t get his ass beat but humiliation can be just as painful.  

“You’re looking good for someone who almost died this morning,” Harriet taunted.  

Glade only smirked, “But I’ll take what I want form your heart and I’ll keep it in a bag, in a box, put an X on the floor!” They continued to sing. Glade bounced around, light on their feet and motioned for the pair to come at them, “Gimme more, gimme more, gimme more! Shut up and Sing it with me!”  

“Marrow…” Harriet ordered the kid.  

Marrow took a deep breath, tail straightening as he concentrated, "Stay!" He hasn’t perfected his semblance yet but Glade’s singing paused, body moving slowly but still moving.  

Harriet grinned cracking her knuckles before running forward. Just as she was about to reach them, the gravity Dust glowed bright. Harriet lost her footing but the momentum continued until she crashed into the wall. The audience laughed even harder. Robyn and Joanna roaring next to her.  

The poor freshmen couldn’t hold his semblance and dropped it, panting heavily. Just as Clover was about to step onto the stage the lights shut off. Glade reach over, throwing Clover at Marrow. With a sharp whistle a wall of ice rose up, blocking all of Ironwood’s favorite students on stage. Glade ran to the side, grabbing the blind Schnees and Watt and running out of the theater. Before they disappeared they gave Fiona a pointed look.  

The little lamb grabbed everyone and ran to the nearest side door. Klein gasped, semblance activating with a small scared sneeze and red eyes was looking at them. “Good, good, I was worried ya’ lot wouldn’t catch on,” Klein smirked, voice gruff and a little aggressive. Fiona giggled, she always like this one the best. “You… I can’t believe you’re in on this too!”  

“Don’t blame me lil’ miss,” Klein scowled and growled back up at May, “Originally we were just gonna turn off the lights and sneak Weiss out, but the lil cunt made a friend and well…” Klein gestured to the theater and the loud shouts and yells. Ironwood was demanding the lights be turned back on and the crowd was starting to panic a little, “Best get ya’ out of here, eh? Rides out back, hurry on, now.”  

Fiona new the manor well enough to get the group there. Robyn tried to stop laughing. It was a good thing Fiona was still holding her hand because she was sure Robyn would have been several halls behind them. There were other security guards around but they would see a server accidentally stumble into them or slow down the cart of food or equipment.  

“I’m glad Weiss is still being look after.” May muttered softly under her breath. That finally got Robyn to stop laughing a sobering smile aimed at her elite.  

A chauffeur waited patiently with the door opened for them. Winter didn’t jump, only gave them a small smile while the kids giggled to themselves. May was the only one still furious, “Where’s Glade?”  

“They ran off while I was lecturing Weiss and Silvio,” Winter explain. “Said something about, 'How they weren’t paid enough for that,” She finished looking pointedly at the young adopted Watts. “How long have you two been planning this?”  

“Sneaking out in the middle of the performance…” Weiss blushed and looked away. “A few… weeks?”  

“It was suppose to be during my party but… then… fuck my uncle,” Silvio huffed. The mood died a little but Silvio was still grinning. “It was so worth it.”  

“You two should have told me,” Winter said.  

“You should come around more often- Ow!” Silvio winced as both May and Weiss punched him.  

Winter took it in stride. She closed her eyes, as if concentrating to break the aloof and cool facade. She smiled, gently and earnestly leaning towards her sister and the young genius, “I guess you two will need to fill me. How exactly did two brilliant kids made a fool of the military? Hm?” They both grinned up at her.  

May acted like a grump rolling her eyes but leaning heavily into her partner side. Fiona grinned at the scene, ears fluttering happily. Robyn sneered and chuckled, fingers playing with the tips of her ears while Joanna had an arm slung around both their shoulders again.  

Fiona hadn’t realized she didn’t let go of Robyn’s hand until she was swinging their joined hands in the elevator. May set the kids up in another suite, talking a little more with the kids. Fiona and Robyn naturally gravitated to the balcony while Winter and Joanna collapsed onto the king sized bed with a deep sigh.  

“What a day…”  

“I’ll say. Fighting Grimm, sex in the changing room, a picnic and a show,” Joanna teased. The trio blushed hard and Robyn still made no move to pull their hands apart. This time she caught the women glancing at her lips. Fiona tighten her grip, fighting the urge to pull at the loose tie.  

“I’m going to live variously through you two again.” Winter said. Fiona nearly jumped and the pair looked at Winter, lounging like a cat next to a bear that was Joanna. The Schnee looked pointedly at their hands, “Just make out already.”  

“Yes, ma’am,” Robyn whispered, voice husky and slow. It sent a shiver down Fiona’s spine and she realized the women was quiet for awhile now. Fiona could almost feel just how long Robyn was holding herself back. At first the kiss was desperate and almost vicious. Fiona gasp softly when Robyn bit her lip and her tongue danced against hers. Both of Fiona’s hands was held in Robyn’s against the railing, as if this is how she wanted to take Fiona during their two rounds this morning.  

With a dazed heart Fiona followed whatever mood Robyn wanted to give. Meeting her energy as best as possible. The frenzy kiss slowed to a passionate one. Finally Robyn let her hands go and Fiona let them wrap around her neck. The kiss might have slowed but it didn’t die. Fiona only felt the warmth in her chest spread, the cold metal of the rail worth the feeling of Robyn pressed against her.  

“There’s no way you’d kiss May like that,” Joanna mumbled next to Winter. “It’d be a lot more sweet and chaste.”  

“Shut up,” Winter mumbled softly. Robyn and Fiona broke apart giggling at their banter and at each other. Fiona swallowed trying not to think too much about how she wanted to keep those lavender eyes for longer than their academic years. How Robyn’s sweetness reminded her for her elites or how that Mantle attitude reminded Fiona that she wasn’t alone in their fight.  

She didn’t want to fall but Robyn and the others were making it tempting.  

Robyn leaned in again but not for a kiss, her nose nuzzled Fiona’s cheek trying to push her head to the right but Fiona fought it for a second and took a deep breath. Lavender and a fresh spring fields filled her nose, clouding her mind in a happy daze and settling her heart into a slow dancing rhythm. When Fiona finally opened her eyes she saw May on the balcony next to them. Face red and gold eyes wide.  

“I want to do it right because…” Winter’s soft words floated through the open air. Robyn and Fiona giggled, watching May blush so hard it must have been painful but the smile on her face didn’t make her worry. Instead Fiona pulled gently pulled on that loose tie around Robyn’s neck and pull her down for a kiss.  

This kiss was slowest yet. A practiced and gentle dance as Winter continued to speak, “Because I’ve loved her since I can remember.”

[theother-will-grayson]

The Marathon

Fandom: Scrubs

Ship: Jdox

Word count: 2,777

Notes: So yeah uhhh if you didn’t know, this is an old ass blog and I am still officially a Scrubs stan, so if this is a surprise to you...I’m sorry. Here’s a little Jdox oneshot because my rewatch is giving me feels.

Summary: One hard night at the hospital brings two pining doctors together.

Also on FFN and AO3

JD wasn’t the most athletic guy growing up, and he certainly wasn’t anymore, but from 7th grade until he graduated high school, he participated in a horrible, deadly, thrilling sport called cross country. Initially, it had been the bright idea of his optimistic father in a fit of wishful thinking. Optimistic, because 7th grade JD looked like a stiff breeze could give him a panic attack, and the thought of running in front of people in the woods nearly made him go catatonic.  But as time went on, he realized it helped a lot with stress and anxiety, whether he was any good at it or not.

There was this race, hosted by the Minooka Mountain Lions. It was the longest course in the conference. High school kids ran 5ks, or about 3.1 miles, but by middle school standards, the winding 1.8 miles of Minooka Park’s trails may as well have been a marathon. And at the end, a hundred scrawny twelve year olds were expected to drag themselves up a hill that seemed to shoot straight into the sky before shoving themselves across the finish line at a dead sprint. The year asthmatic, skinny, pale JD, pre-puberty and all elbows and knees, joined the team, it was the first race of the season, so they all had about a week and a half of conditioning under their belts. It was like asking toddlers to conquer Europe.

The race day came, no matter how much Johnny begged it not to. The gun went off, he jogged a bit and then walked on and off for, like, a mile, and when he turned the corner out of the woods and saw the most legendary sledding hill in the county looming over him, he fully stopped at the foot of the hill, not even noticing the parents screaming encouragements or the equally skinny and asthmatic competitors passing him. He simply stared up at the slope, awed by its incline.

That’s how he felt staring at a 12 hour on-call shift on Christmas Eve with Dr. Cox, a board member in the ICU, 4 car accident victims, one of which had already coded twice, and a young man desperately awaiting a kidney. It was the same feeling, only this time he didn’t start puking Gatorade so violently that his dad had to run onto the course and help him to a porta-potty while a coach directed traffic around his stinking lunch.

At least, not yet.

The door to the on-call room swung open, a figure standing in the door frame, and his heart was in that race again, fleeing his chest in a panic

In a rare moment of Christmas spirit, Kelso had granted a small splurge for some fairy lights in a few places around the hospital. Their twinkling light cascaded through the open door and cast Doctor Cox’s sharp silhouette in a gentle glow. JD had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“Let’s get to work, Newbie.”

The hill loomed.

JD barely registered what he was doing, his world becoming a blur of rooms, beds, faces, charts, pens, needles, and Perry. Perry wasn’t blurry. Perry’s hand was on his shoulder, Perry’s eyebrows were furrowed as he wrote, Perry didn’t even blink while tossing JD a chart. And every time he got a chance to finally close his eyes, it seemed like only seconds later that Perry was shaking him awake, helping him to his feet. God, his feet. He just wanted to get off his feet.

Despite the rants and the fights and the distinct lack of affection that JD caught himself daydreaming about, they made a good team. One to think and process, one to bark for efficiency. One to feel, and one to do. One to ground the other. They had to snap at each other, shove charts in each other’s faces, whistle, touch, anything to keep one another focused. Suddenly the hill was muddy. JD was injured, Perry was barely awake, someone was shooting at them, and they were dragging each other up the slope, JD screaming for bandages — 

Just a dumb fantasy. Focus, JD. No, don’t. You’re in a brief moment of blessed peace. Savor it. He tilted his head back against the wall, just wishing he could sit, but knowing the trip to the break room would only waste his precious respite. Perry was handing him coffee.

And then, his pager. Perry’s pager. They locked eyes as they recognized the room number. 

Zoe.

Among all the christmas bustle there was one of the usual snow related accidents on the freeway. A little 7 year old girl had been in the pileup. Her 16 year old brother, Charlie, had been behind the wheel driving in his first snow. He was dealing with broken ribs and internal bleeding, but he looked like he was going to pull through. Zoe had been touch and go for a while, but she had seemed stable enough. What the hell had happened? He abandoned his coffee without hesitation. Charging towards her room, all JD could think about was how young she was, how guilty her brother had felt about the whole thing and how relieved he’d been when he’d found out she was stable. 

She wasn’t dead yet.

JD pushed every thought that wasn’t do this now out of his head as he sprinted down the hall, his stethoscope bouncing on his chest, running on his toes, muddy tennis shoes digging into the earth and bounding up tree roots like stairs…

“Starting CPR.”

It was probably going to rebreak her ribs but he didn’t care. Broken ribs are common when bending them two inches past their normal state, especially when they’re barely healed on a little girl.

He was sweating from the effort of the compressions. His heart was pounding. He found himself wishing for the magical ability to transfer his racing heartbeat to this little girl, to give her his shallow breaths.

“C’mon…” He was climbing uphill, carrying Zoe on his back. She was heavier than she looked. His lungs burned, his calves screamed, but he pressed on. The end was so close.

But medicine isn’t a race. There’s no finish line that you have to push for, no giant timer telling you your level of success, no string of plastic flags to funnel you into the blessed end. Saving lives has a time limit. If you’re not fast enough, the finish line disappears.

Zoe ran out of time.

He slumped to the floor outside the room. Doctor Cox stood above him. “Can’t win ‘em all, Newbie.”

All he could do was rejoice in being off his feet.

He could feel Perry’s eyes on him as he decided whether he wanted to listen to the half of his brain that begged for sleep, or the half that knew he didn’t deserve it. For a moment, it almost seemed like Dr. Cox could hear those voices too, or at least could identify the outward signs. Either way, he simply said, “Go home.”

JD couldn’t even muster the energy to express his surprise. He had come to expect baiting and tricks from his unwilling mentor, but for once he seemed genuine. He hauled himself to his feet again. God. “Merry Christmas, Doctor Cox.” And that was the closest they would get to a fanfare, to a roaring crowd praising them for collapsing across the finish line.

The sliding doors opened to greet his approach and a gust of wind dusted a few flakes of snow onto the carpeted entrance. The asphalt had already been salted, leaving goopy gray puddles of slush that squished and splashed in grainy chunks beneath his sneakers. But beyond the parking lot, outside the perimeter of the hospital, the snow glinted off the trees colored by dancing Christmas lights.

His mind wandered to his apartment, to Turk and Carla, who were already asleep in the apartment. They would wake up only a few hours after he got home, ready to celebrate and smile and laugh with their favorite third wheel.

He thought about that warmth, that contentment, that boost that he couldn’t bring himself to believe he deserved, and decided he wasn’t ready to leave.

Suddenly invigorated, JD about-faced and power-walked to the nurse’s station, filled with anxious adrenaline that he knew was a sprint and could only last a moment.

“Where’s Doctor Cox?”

The nurse pointed, and before he could stop himself, JD had flung open the door to the on-call room. Breathless, he wondered if the lights silhouetted him the way they had Doctor Cox mere hours ago. He’d been breathless then, too.

“Belinda, what are you —”

“Is anyone else in here?” He was stalling — he knew the answer.

“Not a soul. Newbie —”

JD shut the door behind him, at a loss for what the hell to do next.

“Sasha, you’d better go ahead and tell me what the hell is happening or so help me —”

“I don’t want to go home.”

Silence. JD cringed, realizing how childish he sounded. But that was just it. He felt like a child, reduced to basic emotions of tired, frustrated, sad. He couldn’t express anything else. Not that he should, even if he were able. He couldn’t just say, “Kiss me so I know that everything will be okay.” Like most things, that was better left in his head.

“Come here.”

JD obeyed semi-consciously. Dr. Cox’s warm hands connected with his shoulders, their heat spreading through his veins like ink in water and guiding him toward one of the beds. JD had a brief flash of clarity, realizing he was about to be tucked in. Child, his brain scolded. He ignored it, toeing off his shoes and folding himself under the thin blankets.

Dr. Cox sat on the edge of the bed, half on and half off. The sight of his profile, curved forehead, elegant nose, full lips, strong jaw, outlined against the navy darkness behind him took JD’s breath away. With all the running and the shoulder touching and closeness, he hadn’t even taken a moment to question why Dr. Cox hadn’t already put his foot up JD’s ass. Before he could dwell on it, let alone say anything, Perry’s fingers were in his hair and every one of JD’s brain functions stalled.

“It’s been a while since this job got to you, huh? Yeah I think you’re about due for a breakdown.”

His throat felt thick. Despite finally being in bed, off duty, off his feet, JD felt less like relaxing and more like crying.

“Now, me, I had mine last week, a few days after Jordan finally decided to leave for good. So I’m a solid rock. Whatever you need, Newbie, I’m here.”

All he could do was nod.

Dr. Cox sighed, the soothing motion of his fingers combing through JD’s hair as steady as his presence ever was. “What I’m saying there, Newbie, is that there’s no shame in letting go and breaking down, as long as you’re still ready to put your dukes up the next day and take some more punches.”

So he let go.

He had cried in front of his reluctant mentor several times, but never like this. These weren’t angry tears or exhausted tears or frustrated tears. These were all of the above, shoved down for god knows how long. And Dr. Cox endured it, scratching gently at the short hairs on the back of his neck and not saying a word. Minutes passed, and JD felt his mind coming back to him, along with the clarity he needed to be embarrassed. He sat up, shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes as if trying to force the tears to stop flowing. Dr. Cox gripped his wrists and pulled them away.

“Sorry,” JD said. Whether he was apologizing for the tears or the self-abuse, he did not know. He reclaimed his hands, which felt heavier than he remembered, and lifted the sleeve of his scrubs to wipe his eyes.

“Maggie, if you didn’t gather from my highly out of character kind speech from before your little sobfest that you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, I’ll repeat it in a way that you can understand.” Perry gripped JD’s chin, and oh how he wanted that to be real affection. “This. Place. Sucks. And no matter how thick your skin is, this hellhole is going to get to you. Bottling it up will drive you crazy, Newbie. Take it from someone who knows.”

“...Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

Of course. What an odd response to a thank you. As if JD shouldn’t expect anything less.

It was then that JD realized that Perry had let go of his chin, but their faces were still achingly close. He could feel Perry’s breath on his lips, beckoning him closer. It was so tempting to reach forward and kiss him, not in some fireworks display first kiss full of romance novel heat and passion, but to just kiss him once on the lips, once on the neck, and just fall asleep in his arms as if they’d been lovers for years.

The unusual comfort and warmth was getting to him. He was drunk on the affection and everything felt so twisted, but he was spellbound, unable to move away. Only closer.

And closer

And closer

And—

Dr. Cox put a hand on his chest. “Newbie—”

“No,” he interrupted firmly. “No more excuses.”

And just like that, they connected. It wasn’t a fireworks display, but it wasn’t familiar either. It was easy, natural, electric. Like he was meeting Perry Cox for the first time. It was that final sprint, pushing everything he had into gaining seconds. It almost snuck up on him. One second he was enjoying the scent of Perry’s cologne up close and the next they were gripping each other’s faces, enraptured by the taste of one another. For a few unending moments, they couldn’t get enough of each other. For a few brief infinites, they gave into the absolute irresistibility of one another, the magnetism that they had fought for so long. And like magnets, they clicked into place.

And then they parted, slowly, achingly. Their lips hovered centimeters apart as they tried to breathe in one last taste.

JD pursed his lips, his head swimming as he fought for the courage to speak. “I…” just do it, Dorian. “Um, I have feelings for you.”

A tense pause. And then, he laughed. Doctor Cox actually laughed, and JD froze.

“That’s your glorious love confession?” Perry said, still grinning against his lips. “‘I have feelings for you?’ Surely after years of pining you can come up with something better than that.”

JD felt like an idiot. Of course. Of course Doctor Cox didn’t reciprocate. This is why he didn’t say anything for so long, because he knew it would turn out this way. All thought was replaced with action. He panicked and pulled Perry in for another passionate kiss, one he couldn’t escape from. Just keep kissing, pretend it never happened.

He seemed to gain ground for a moment before Perry shook off his surprise and pulled away, ducking another attack. 

“JD,” He said. “I have feelings for you too, they’re complicated, messy feelings, but there’s no use denying them anymore.

JD felt the breath leave his body. “Really?”

A chuckle and a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Give me a chance to speak before you panic next time.”

Next time. There would be a next time. JD had been waiting for this moment since the first day of his internship. Perry Cox was confessing his feelings while kissing him in the on-call room, and suddenly he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. They clicked into place once again, grinning against each other’s lips. JD sprung forward, and they fell together, tumbling and laughing and kissing and feeling and lifting shirt hems and grabbing skin and— 

“Not here, Newbie.” The nickname had never sounded so sweet. “Not now.” He granted JD a kiss. “Soon, I promise. But not in this dump.”

JD wanted so badly to protest, but he was so goddamn tired, and Perry’s arms looked so inviting. His face fit perfectly in the crook of his harm, and fingers came to ruffle his hair briefly, but JD didn’t let them leave. Perry chuckled and obeyed, gently scratching at JD’s scalp until his eyes could barely stay open. 

Every shift at the hospital felt like a race, filled with hills and obstacles. But Perry...Perry had been a marathon. And it felt so good to cross the finish line.