#actually i think simmons might be a little confused but he would never admit it. he would pretend to know forever.

[leonardalphachurch]

also i have a joke in cccr where they’re not understanding how alpha and epsilon are different and doc chimes in to help explain plurality and reminds them all of the pamphlet he made for them and someone (grif) is like oh god do we actually have to learn this shit now and doc is like. well. you could have learned it. for me 🥺

[rubykgrant]

(here is how I imagine Grif and Simmons’ feelings growing for each other in the early years)

In the beginning, when they first met, Grif figured he wouldn’t ever like Simmons much. The dude turned out to be kinda funny though, despite being so annoying, and he was weird in an interesting way, so they became friends. Grif talked to him every single day, from training to Blood Gulch, how could they NOT be friends? Grif started to notice that something else was going on after a while… and realized it was a crush. A stupid little crush, like a stupid little kid. He was too old for something like this. This happened around the time they thought they “traveled to the future” (but had actually just been exploded). Well, it started before then, but he hadn’t noticed. It was gross and embarrassing, and no WAY was Grif going to act on it. Grif only had a few relationships in his life that he’d be willing to call “serious” (that is, more than just a fling or a hook-up), and they never lasted long or ended well. Sometimes it was OK, at least for a while… but Simmons? The dude would absolutely not be able to handle having another guy interested in him. This crush was nothing but a bad idea. He tried to ignore it until it went away… but it didn’t. Still, he could deal with having a crush, whatever.

Then it wasn’t a crush anymore. When Simmons went through his “Blue Phase”, Grif accidentally started to put actual thought into how he felt about Simmons, which was a mistake. Grif loved him. He hated it. He loved Simmons, and he hated it. He had fallen hard for Simmons, and if this was happening at any other time in his life… Grif would have been almost bashful and possibly excited about it. When was the last time he’d actually been “in love”? A few times he THOUGHT it was happening, and then it just didn’t click. That was all years ago… but he used to be a little more hopeful when it came to romance. If he had met Simmons in his college years somehow, Grif would have been all over him (embarrassing, but true. He knew himself that well, at least). After all this time, though… Grif has become just too apathetic to hope for love. He was never good enough for anybody, and he had crappy taste in other people. He doesn’t want to even go there with Simmons… but he also doesn’t want to lose Simmons, he wants to keep being around him, as much as possible, for as long as possible.

After so many years of mocking Simmons, bothering him and irritating him, Grif had backed himself into a corner; no way in hell would Simmons EVER feel the same way about Grif. It was never gonna happen. He couldn’t stop feeling the way he did, and he also couldn’t stop acting like a jerk… the routine of this dysfunctional relationship was set in stone. What could Grif do? Just give up on Simmons completely, go find another friend, try to date other people? Grif had already done the bit where you leave your old life behind and try to make a new one… it sucked (and required too much effort). Besides, Simmons was USED to him. He might complain about Grif constantly, but also… nobody else put up with Grif the way he did. Should Grif try and actually do something about their relationship, like TELL Simmons the truth? No way. They didn’t do emotional honesty, and if Simmons didn’t feel the same way… he probably wouldn’t take it well. He’d probably freak out. Then Grif wouldn’t even have his friend anymore. He’s wanted Simmons in many different ways, and he’ll take whatever he can get…

***

There had been quite a few times in the years that they’ve known each other when Simmons thought about Grif… well, in pretty embarrassing ways. It made him feel all confused, but also fluttery, with something like glee washing over him. Simmons didn’t even know how to describe it; Grif would say something or do something, and it would just strike Simmons as the absolute PERFECT thing in the moment, it would be funny or silly, occasionally really DEEP or interesting, and somehow also charming, and Simmons would suddenly want to make Grif happy too... but it was totally different than the need to impress an authority figure. He would want all of Grif’s attention and affection, because in these moments, he felt special… and the source of that feeling was Grif. In these moments, the teasing turned into something more playful, the arm-punches turned into hugs, the endless anxiety turned into a comfortable sense of belonging. Maybe Grif had other friends in his life that got to share moments like this with him, but this was all Simmons had. Often, Grif just drove him up a wall, he was so lazy and bothersome, the opposite of Simmons in many ways… but ultimately, he was Simmons’ best friend.

It only got weird when he started having additional thoughts to go with these feelings… he’d think about hugging Grif and not letting go. He’d think about what it would be like if somebody wanted HIS attention and affection for once, and if that somebody was Grif. He’d think about so many things, stuff that was so sappy and corny… cutesy stuff. This was weird because you DEFINITELY weren’t supposed to think about your friends like this, right? Simmons never had a lot of friends, so he wasn’t sure… but these cutesy-thoughts were more like the stuff people probably did in romantic relationships. Simmons definitely had never done anything romantic with anybody in his life either, but he knew what it was. He wasn’t stupid. He was just… really confused. Maybe it was just the fact that he’d known Grif for so long, all his various emotional struggles were concentrated on the guy. The first time Simmons realized these cutesy-thoughts were a problem was when they were at Rat’s Nest; it had been just about the worst thing ever to deal with Grif being in charge, because he was NOT a good leader, and Simmons hated being bossed around by his goof-ball buddy… but it wasn’t all bad. A few times, Grif had used his position of power to force Simmons to relax (which was difficult to get used to, but he also couldn’t just say NO, and sometimes it was fun… like when Grif convinced him to go joy-riding in a vehicle or blow something up just for the heck of it. All those childhood and teenage years spent staying quiet and behaving had robbed Simmons of doing stuff like this, so he had a lot to catch up on).

One of these times, Grif got his hands on some comic books, and was gushing to Simmons about how cool they were. They’d taken most of their armor off, so Simmons could see Grif’s face and upper-body clearly… it was the first time since the surgery that Grif finally looked “evened-out” (still with patches of Simmons’ skin, but his face and arm and leg didn’t seem so withered anymore). Simmons considered lecturing Grif on how bad it was for him to waste time and resources collecting stupid comic books, but Grif looked so happy. He looked YOUNGER, even more so than when Simmons first met him. He was positively radiating joy. So instead of being a buzzkill, Simmons decided to enjoy the moment, watching Grif be just as much of a nerd as he was, and… he noticed how soft Grif’s lips were. The whole time Grif was smiling and talking... his lips just looked so soft. That did it. Suddenly, the cutesy-thoughts would randomly turn into kissy-thoughts. Suddenly, Simmons was having actual DREAMS about Grif (and in these dreams, he most definitely had all of Grif’s attention and affection. In these dreams, there was nothing stopping him from admitting that he wanted this, he wanted GRIF). This was weird, right? You weren’t supposed to want your friends like that… right? He was already such a dork, Simmons couldn’t stand the idea of being even WEIRDER. He simply shoved every single kissy-cutesy-thought away (but the dreams kept happening no matter what he did. His unconscious brain was a jerk like that).

[adangerousbond]

The silence of the night

I honestly never thought I would write a AOS fic, but here I am! Was supposed to be a real short one shot, and I guess 2k is pretty short for me, but here it is.

Put together quickly, may have some mistakes, not 100% on how I feel about the end result but just couldn't get it out of my head.

Read at ff.net  or AO3 or below.

Enjoy!

After what had felt like eternity, Simmons had gotten his assistance to move the still unconscious Daisy to her own room, stating that she had been in the healing pod long enough and a familiar environment might give her a chance to get some proper rest. The doctor seemed unconcerned that her friend was still not awake and more concerned about moving her away from where she might be interrupted by the latest issue at hand. She had instructed him to get her if he had any concerns before leaving the pair, thankful that she could leave her in his hands and not have to worry.

Sousa took in the room around him as he sat in a lone chair opposite the bed, there was a messy duffle bag next to the bedside table and a couple go bags of equipment, but not much in the way of personalising it. It reminded him that as Deke had said, they all had been ripped from their lives without choice, but there was something else, something about the way her small pile of stuff sat that made him feel that she was more than used to up and going from her home without notice. Turning his attention back to the sleeping woman, the rise and fall of her breaths giving him a chance to relax ever so slightly.

He had met plenty a strong and capable woman, but he couldn't help but feel that there was something different about the one in front of him, something that had nothing to do with the powers she held or her hacking skills as the others had called it, no, it was something he couldn't quite place, but something told him that he would never meet another person quite like her. She was fierce and carried herself with an air of confidence that had made her always seem taller than she was, he had only realised as she lay unconscious in his arms that she was actually quite small, smaller but far from weak, that was one word he didn't believe would ever fit her.

The team had welcomed him, having known his story from their training, and there was something comforting around slotting into the family-like dynamic of the well oiled machine, but her, she was different; good, bad, he wasn't quite sure just yet, but either way, here he was still in the fight through time to stay by her side. Time, maybe that was a part of it, while the others took him in and moved on, moved from mission to mission, moved from one discussion to another, she gave him the time, checked in on him, took the time to give him little demonstrations of her tech and show him compassion; clearly having learnt to live her life amongst the missions.

She had asked about his story, not just accepted what she had more than likely read as the others had, and she had listened to his rant about Hydra, making no move to counter what they had taken from him with what he had seen and heard enough to know that the whole team, including her had lost to them. She had joked with him, had gone along with his play in the bar and fought alongside him, all of which was making him very quickly feeling comfortable and like he belonged alongside her, something that wasn't quite sure how it made him feel about it all, something that could be dangerous for the both of them.

But the thing that he couldn't quite shake, that he still couldn't quite believe, was the way she had come back drained and bloody, in what was a pretty bad state to be in after what he had seen to be a pretty bad extraction, and then she proceeded to show him the glass shard that she had lodged undetected under her own skin. She would fight past the point of the end, and somehow keep fighting, this he was sure, and this was something he respected greatly, a large part of him hoping though, that her memories from that barn didn't stick, they were bad enough from his side.

Picking up the tablet that Simmon's had given him, along with some very basic instructions of use; tap and swipe being about the basis of his knowledge, he resumed his reading up on the files on there, trying to distract himself from the sleeping woman, his eyes still not quite used to the artificial glow that the paper thin computer emitted, but the low lighting of the room would have made it impossible for him to read the couple books he had also been given. His distraction only worked for a little while, the sound of movement drawing his attention back as the woman across from him started jerking around, in the admits of a nightmare; whether about the events that had just transpired or from her past, he couldn't be sure.

Carefully making his way over, he bent down next to her, a gentle hand on her shoulder as he tried to settle her. Her movements lessened and he stroked her hair once more, a smile coming to his face as she seemed at peace again. He watched her carefully as he made his way back to seat, his research since forgotten, his focus instead back on her fully. The calmness only lasting a few minutes, with her nightmare seemingly coming back with a vengeance, her movement more thrashing this time round.

Sitting back down on the side of the bed, his presence seeming to calm her once more, he sighed at his decision, there was so may things not right about it; it definitely wasn't appropriate, it shouldn't have even been a thought that crossed his mind, but the worst part was that he knew deep down that it wasn't even a consideration for him not to, if he could quell her demons even for a moment he would do anything. Trying not to make too much noise or movement, he positioned himself so he was lying next to her, propping himself up against the headboard to allow him to go back to his research once more.

He glanced up from his tablet as she startled awake, her body turning quickly to face him the millisecond she realised she wasn't alone. Confusion overtaking her features the moment the worry left, but he felt that she seemed less confused by where he was and more confused that he had stuck around, something that tugged at somewhere deep down inside him.

"You were, I-I thought, I shouldn't have," he stammered through an attempt to explain his location beside her, stopping at her small smile and lack of concern.

"You kept your promise, you got us home," she spoke groggily, ignoring his words and accepting the glass of water that he had finally remembered to offer her, her hands shaky as she took a few sips before handing it back.

"Thanks to you," he marvelled at her, watching her turn her hand over and inspect where she had hidden the glass, telling him that she remembered more than he had hoped.

"How long have I been out?" she asked, dropping her head back onto the pillow, clearly still exhausted from it all.

"About 10 hours, give or take a decade," he joked, catching her glance towards the tablet he had been reading and he wasn't sure what to make of her small smile at him using it, or what to make of how it made him feel.

"So, we've jumped again?" she asked, turning back away from him, edging closer to him as she did, the action solidify to him that he had made the right choice to move being next to her.

"Twice," he informed her simply.

"Mhm," her response lacking any question to it, telling him that she was already nearly back asleep, something he was glad for, because he had no answers for her on where they were or what was happening outside her room.

The next time she woke, she knew two things; she finally felt more with it, and she felt safe. Turning to face the man next to her, she smiled softy at his now sleeping form, the smile fading as concern took over; he made her feel safe, but she had only ever known bad things to come from feeling safe. Safe was something she had searched for for so long, and yet safe was also something she had learnt to fear.

Sitting up slowly, letting her body adapt to the movement, she carefully took the tablet from his grasp and placed it on the bedside table, pride swelling through her at his attempt to move with the times. She wasn't sure at want point he decided that he was sticking around and she wasn't sure the answer was one that she was ready to hear yet either, but the fact he had stayed by her side throughout meant more than he probably realised, more than she would care to admit.

Quietly lifting her legs to hang over the edge of the bed, she gingerly placed some weight on them, she could feel her powers running through her veins once more, weak but there, humming under the surface waiting for her to regain her strength, much like the rest of her body. She tried not to think about what they had done to her back there, focusing instead on the faint memory of his story, his story he had told her to keep her lucid, keep her in the fight. She could vaguely remember the pain that had come from the glass, nothing compared to that pain from that table, and worth it for their escape.

He had promised her he would get them home; something neither really had anymore, but she guessed that safe on Zephyr One was as close as they could get to his promise. She struggled with trusting in promises, especially when coming from a person she barely knew, but she had believed him when he had said it, something that she wasn't sure what to do with so she pushed it down deep. But here they both were, alive and well enough, on a plane with the rest of the team ready for the next battle and she couldn't help but smile at that.

She had felt at ease with him from the moment they had met, something she had initially put down to being because of Coulson's excited admiration of him, but as time went on, it was quickly seeming less about what the history books stated and more because of the man himself. They barely knew each other, maybe because it was a matter of days spread across decades, that time didn't seem as linear anymore, but she felt like they had known each other so much longer, and that level of comfort, of easy companionship was enough to make her want to run in the opposite direction and yet, she seemed unable to leave.

Placing more weight on her legs as she stood to stand, she had to force herself to head towards the door, annoyed at herself for having to make herself not look back, and very much choosing to ignore the warmth prickling under her skin as she caved for a quick glance back as she slipped out the door. She shook her head to herself, quietly closing the door behind her as she headed to find the others, remembering the fact that he had told her they had jumped twice, and set to determining what mess they had gotten themselves into this time.

[doyouever-daydream]

You’ve Got The Love

A/N So I was feeling angsty, lmao, and I came up with a different scenario for Garvez during the series finale, I’m glad this isn’t actually the way it happened but anyway, hope you’re doing well, enjoy! 

P.S. Very inspired by Florence + The Machine’s song ❤

P.S. 2 I miss Matt Simmons a whole lot 🥺

Pairing: Penelope Garcia x Luke Alvez

Warnings: A little cliché, imo but it was fun to write.

Wordcount: 1522

Masterlist

Luke left Spencer’s apartment feeling something in his chest, he wasn’t sure what it was, but the second he heard Penelope’s news about her job offer, something changed for him. Maybe it was the possibility of losing her that made him realize just how strong his feelings were.

He was able to mask what was going on his mind and remained calm, or so he’d like to think. The next day Matt called him and asked him how he was doing with the new information about Penelope, he knew, Luke was almost certain that Tara also knew and JJ had a clue but the only person he had openly talked about his feelings was Matt.

“I-I don’t know, we’ve been spending some time together, as friends, nothing else has happened but-” Matt cut him off.

“But you want something else to happen” Luke didn’t answer, after all Matt already knew  “You should talk to her”

“No, I can’t if she doesn’t feel the same our friendship is gonna be over and if she leaves, then I will never see her again” Even though Luke couldn’t see Matt, he knew his friend had a disapproving look on his face.

“What if she does feel the same?” He thought about it, in his mind it was nearly impossible that someone as caring, loving and incredible like Penelope would have feelings for him.

“Look, even if that was the case, I think it would be selfish of me telling her all of this just when she has a great opportunity waiting for her” 

Matt sighed, Luke could be really stubborn, ever since he had the suspicion he wanted to be more than friends with Penelope, he had tried to pursue him into asking her out but he would always find an excuse, the most common was. she wouldn’t feel the same. Matt wasn’t so sure about that, even though he wasn’t on the team yet, he knew about Penelope’s behaviour when Luke first joined the BAU, then when he finally witnessed the way Penelope acted around him, there was a point where he just felt it was because she tried to fight something, maybe the feelings she had for him. 

“Then I don’t know what to say, man, you either tell her or not” Once again Luke remained silent “You know, you’re my best friend, I want to see you happy, I know you want someone to be with and I want you to experience that, I think Penelope could be that person for you but if you’re not gonna tell her then I’m just gonna wait until someone shows up in your life and you finally gather some courage to confess your feelings”

Matt’s words got to him, but he didn’t tell him so, Luke thanked him for checking in on him and hung up, he thought about, the way Penelope made him feel wasn’t like something else he felt in his entire life, he promised himself to try and tell her.

He had more than enough chances to ask her out, ever since she had confessed about Alexi Stanovich, she had opened up more to him, a couple of times she had even showed up at his place, admitting to feel very anxious and insecure alone at her place, she would get embarrassed within minutes of arriving, saying what she felt was stupid since Alexi lived in Russia but Luke reassured her it was bound to happen, the situation she was in was messed up and it was completely normal to feel like that.

When Penelope announced that she was taking the offer in Silicon Valley, Luke felt like he couldn’t breathe, he tried to put on a smile on his face but even Penelope knew something was up with him but she didn’t ask him about it, after all she was also trying to assimilate that she was moving to the other side of the country. 

It was Penelope’s farewell party at David’s and Luke knew it was his last chance, she was leaving for California the next day, and he needed to tell her how he felt. They all danced, chatted, drank and he knew time was running out, he asked her if she wanted to grab some water, when she agreed he felt his heartbeat racing and some kind of numbness invaded his entire body.

The words didn’t come out, not a single word could leave his mouth. 

The next day he didn’t want to open his eyes, he wanted to stay asleep forever, not wanting to come to terms that he wouldn’t bump into Penelope in the elevator, nor he would be able to “casually” walk by her lair hoping to see her.

It took all in him to wake up, get ready and leave for work, just when the elevator was about to close, Emily walked in, she greeted him and he forced a smile.

“I’m surprised you showed up, you know” Emily started.

“What do you mean?” She lifted her wrist to see her watch.

“Penelope’s plane leaves in an hour and a half” He swallowed, just the sound of her name broke his heart, Emily then pushed the button for the second floor “Okay, here’s what you’ll do, you’re gonna run down the stairs to the parking lot and you’ll drive to the airport and tell her how you really feel” Luke was perplexed by her words.

“Wh-” She didn’t let him finish.

“It’s an order, SSA Alvez” She said with a serious tone but offering a heartwarming smile at the end, she was tired of seeing them pining for each other without acting on their feelings, neither would follow their advice to go for it, so she felt the need to interfere just a little.

The second the elevator doors opened, Luke sprinted towards the stairs, trying to waste no time so he could reach Penelope at the airport. He swore the minutes he spent driving to the airport were the longest minutes of his life.

He ran and ran, trying to spot her somewhere in the crowd, when he was about to accept she was gone, he smiled, there she was wearing her sparkly boots, a stuffed tiger and carrying her baggage, even those were colorful.

“Penelope!” He screamed while running towards her, he was a little bit far so she couldn’t hear him the first time “Penelope!” The blonde woman turned around, in no time her face was filled with confusion.

“Luke, what are you doing here?” She questioned with a furrowed brow.

He licked his lips and exhaled “I wanted to know if I can visit you” 

Penelope snorted “Of course, anytime”

“How about tomorrow?” Her eyes widened, she started to feel the blood traveling to her face.

“Uhm, I suppose  but don’t you have work?”

“I have vacation days I could take, I’m sure Emily won’t mind” He dared to think it was true and Emily would let him take them.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon, I guess?” She pressed her lips together “Did you come all the way here to ask me that? Newbie, you could’ve-” He shook his head, feeling something take over him, it was now or never, and interrupted her.

“I love you” Penelope’s knees went weak “I actually came here to tell you that I love you, and I have for God knows how long and I needed to tell you” She was speechless and for the first time Luke wasn’t “I know it’s a lot and I don’t expect you to feel the same but I… am hopeful that you might feel something for me, I am willing to wait and to work on this” He signaled between them “So it can go somewhere, and since I’m actually opening up I want to say that I’ve never felt this way about someone ever, maybe it was because I didn’t see myself being loved, but I truly believe you’ve got the love I need to see me through”

Both of their visions were blurry, it was the first time in his life Luke had opened up to someone like that, he wasn’t one to say his deepest thoughts out loud, while Penelope was very touched by his words, she felt like she was in one of those movies, sure, it was cliché but she felt glad to see him there.

“So you’re coming over tomorrow?” She casually asked at the same time she cleaned her tears off her face, he smiled and nodded “Where are you taking me?”

“I’ll figure something out” By the time he was finished, Penelope was already in his arms and her lips were on his, she kissed him passionately, both of them had imagined how kissing the other would feel like and it was much more better than they had imagined.

When they pulled apart, Penelope looked him in the eyes “I have a plane to catch” He nodded, blinking away his tears and smiling widely at her, he went to help her with her luggage “Oh, and newbie,” She squeezed his hand, he turned to her “I love you too”

[riathedreamer]

So, I talked about “File Not Found” which was a fic @creatrixanimi and I planned, what, three years ago, but was eventually abandoned. I realized I actually had the first chapter ready, written such a long time ago, and while the story won’t be continued, I might as well share it with you here on tumblr instead of just letting it rot in my folder. Here you go.

File Not Found

Sole Survivor

”That’s not how it works.”

 “Pfft. It’s totally how it works.”

The scene was so familiar at this point. The two of them were standing on a ledge, staring at Chorus’ tropical landscape below. Maybe the one change was the fact they were no longer holding onto a rifle. With the newly achieved peace, weapons were no longer needed, and they could enjoy the view of the sun rising above the treetops unarmed.

“You are comparing a bite with a phobia. Just what is the connection between those two?!”

“Batman. Spiderman. Animal plus man equals superhero.”

“Okay,” Simmons admitted gingerly, “but what about the superpowers? Batman doesn’t have any. Spiderman got his from the bite of a radioactive spider. Batman just had a phobia of bats.”

Grif snorted as a slightly offended look snuck its way to his usual bored expression. “Well, maybe he got bit by a bat! Maybe that’s why he has the phobia!”

 “That does not make the bat radioactive!”

 “It’s a bat, Simmons. It doesn’t need radioactivity – it’s already fucking terrifying!”

They had reached that point of the argument where Simmons would throw his hands in the air. “Batman does not have superpower! He chose his name after his chiroptophobia!”

 “So what. Chirowhatevername is cool!”

 “Just because you are afraid of bats as well it does not make the phobia cool,” Simmons let him know.

Grif crossed his arms. “Cooler than your snakophobia.” 

“Ophidiophobia.”

 “Holy crap, how did your tongue not cramp up?” When Grif’s question was answered with a light shrug, he continued,  “Whatever. My point still is – Batman and Spiderman are the same shit. You have the recipe for a cool superhero right there. Take an animal and add man to the end of the word.”

 Simmons had opened his mouth with the argument against that statement ready on his tongue, but before he could utter a word, Donut seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

The pink soldier gasped in excitement. “So if you take the most dangerous animal on Earth, you get the toughest superhero!” He spread out his arms for the dramatic introduction. “Mosquitoman. When he first starts sucking, men will fall to their knees before him!”

“Nope, this conversation is over. Donut ruined it.” Grif groaned and looked up at the sky that had changed from red to blue as the sun rose. Somewhere back in the headquarters, Sarge must be going through his daily round of disappointment as not even the sky would cheer for their team.

But Donut’s interruption had managed to direct the conversation towards something Grif was not ready to discuss (Mosquitoman’s sucking abilities had to wait for another day - where Grif preferably was not present) and that was a problem bigger than it would seem like.

 It was important to keep the dialogue flowing. A statement from Grif, then Simmons would disagree, and so they were kept busy with light-hearted bickering. Grif even had a mental list of possible subjects ready (ukulele versus guitar where ukulele would obviously win - did the fruit pie or the meat pie come first - since this place was called Chorus was there a planet called Verse).

 It was rather uncharacteristic for Grif to be so well prepared since it was usually Simmons who would worry himself sick over future scenarios that only might happen. But the bickering was necessary now since it kept them from talking about certain subjects that had appeared when a certain someone had shoved his stupid thing inside a place where it never should have been.

 Just to clarify: stupid Tucker had stuck his stupid sword inside the stupid temple, and suddenly Grif and Simmons had been stuck in a too hot closet and some stuff had happened that should never ever be brought up again unless you truly wanted Simmons to swallow his own tongue in pure bewilderment.

 The bickering was familiar and required little to no effort since it was almost a bit too easy to make Simmons frown and argue against his points. It was a nice little dance between those two, steps well-known after years of practice. Nothing like Simmons on an actual dance floor which was just a disaster waiting to happen.

 “Ugh, Donut.” Simmons’ tone revealed he was just as disappointed with the interruption. “Didn’t you say you would stay and help the Lieutenants?”

 “They’re doing fine! Well, either they are planting the trees or they are feeding the birds, but either way helps the wildlife!” With the war finally done, it was time for the planet to heal. That meant rebuilding since humans had a habit of fucking up stuff and so they had to make up for that destruction at some point.

 Actual functional cities were starting to appear, people were slowly starting to take off their helmets every once in a while, revealing too young faces with too many scars, and an odd sense of peace was finally beginning to settle. It had taken a while since the Temple Party had stirred up the planet (in a much happier way than a war, at least) and then the reporters had shown up like too many annoying flies on the cadaver called the fall of Hargrove.

 “But Kimball said she needed you two back at the headquarters and since you two weren’t wearing your helmets, I of course had to intervene.”

 They could feel Donut winking at them through his visor, and it was rather clear that he had his own imaginations of why they had felt the need to take off their helmets on their break. Not that it mattered since they knew the truth; Grif had taken off his to smoke, and Simmons had mirrored the action to reveal his very dissatisfied frown at the sight of the cigarette.

 “What now?” Grif groaned at the same time that Simmons worriedly asked, “Has something happened?”

 “A new ship landed,” Donut revealed with excitement in his voice.

 Grif could not relate. He groaned for the second time within a minute - Donut had the ability to make people moan like that, and oh god that was a thought Grif immediately regretted due to poor wording. “Is it another reporter?” he asked. “Why are they all asking the same stupid questions?! Why the fuck don’t they just steal each other’s work or just make up something? Way easier.”

 The swarm of reporters had actually grown to the point where Kimball had talked about relocating them. Which Grif might not disagree on if it could give them some well-deserved peace. He was tired of answering questions over and over, where most of his answers would be “no comments”.

 “Kimball says this person is… different.” For dramatic effect, Donut could not help but spread out his fingers in a weak attempt of jazz hands.

 Simmons tilted his head. “Different?” And Grif had to resist to moan again. Different was not good unless different meant someone giving them a free vacation to Hawaii or decided to thank them with a supply of snack cakes instead of those meaningless handshakes and empty words about how much their work meant to the rest of the galaxy.

 “Maybe the reporter is from Vogue!” Donut suggested with too much hope in his voice. “That would certainly be much more interesting.”

 To be honest Grif would probably rather deal with the normal news reporters than someone from a fashion magazine. It was tempting to stay away, but if Kimball was this firm about them facing a newcomer it would mean they would have to show up eventually; if not by their own choice, then one of the Freelancers would track them down and drag them back by the ear.

 And Simmons had already picked up his helmet, back turned towards the ledge as he was already lifted his foot to march back to base. “Fine,” Grif said and shoved his own helmet over his head, his HUD revealing the missed radio calls from Donut he would not have answered anyway. “But if someone asks me again what our plans are for the future, I’ll tell them it involves dead journalists.”

-

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Carolina let them know in a tone that made Simmons flinch.

 But before the maroon soldier could actually apologize, Grif leaned his head back and whined, “Why did you not start without us?” The less bullshit he had to deal with the better.

 “Because she is asking for you,” Kimball told him in a matter-of-fact voice, and despite the fact that she was looking directly at Grif it took him a few seconds before he realized she was indeed referring to him. He could not help but frown though his helmet hid his confusion.

 Apparently, he was not the only one shocked by Kimball’s statement as Tucker blurted out, “Grif? What the fuck do they want with him?” He sounded both surprised and dumbfounded but there was also the tiny hint of jealousy in his tone that made Grif narrow his eyes in annoyance.

 The entire gang had gathered in the waiting hall in front of Kimball’s office, and at Tucker’s words, they all seemed to shift awkwardly, making it clear that they were all thinking the same question.

 “Maybe they wanted a Red to have the spotlight!” Donut suggested carefully, but there was still the slight undertone that he would have been ready to sign up for the task at any time.

 Tucker snorted. “Then why pick the orange one?”

 “Tucker.” Carolina sent him a warning when the conversation just dragged out without getting closer to give them an answer.

 “Hey, no offense, but it just does not work with the pictures. Myself on the other hand…” A true feeling of humor was lacking from Tucker, proving that his stupid jokes mostly served as a distraction to not talk about all the sore subjects that were lying just beneath the surface. There had been a lot of weak jokes since the battle against Hargrove...

 “You like playing model, we get it.” Carolina turned her head towards Kimball. “But you said this was not a reporter.”

 When Simmons finally spoke, he was wringing his hands. “Then what do they want with Grif?” He glanced briefly towards said teammate before focusing on the general again.

 “They didn’t say. Yet. They would not reveal much detail before you were present.”

 “Am I in trouble?” Grif asked because, honestly, that was his biggest worry at the moment. Most of the time he would be called to an office by name the whole thing would end with dish duty, and he had better ways to spend his evening. Especially now when Simmons had brought up another Star Wars marathon.

 “Always,” Sarge let him know with a huff. “Constant disappointment requires constant punishment. What did he do this time?”

 “How about we actually face this reporter and listen to what they have to say?” Wash suggested, and no one could really disagree with that.

 One question kept bothering Grif. “If they just want me why the fuck are you assholes all here?”

 “‘cause since when have we given a shit about personal privacy?” Tucker asked sarcastically.

 Caboose made a disapproving sound. “Ah, except Tucker’s magazines. Always stay away from those.”

 “That’s right, Caboose, and don’t you ever fucking dare.”

 Kimball let out a quiet sigh at this point and turned around to enter the office, gesturing for them to follow. As the group slowly began to move forward, Grif and Simmons shared a glance. Not knowing how to answer, he just shrugged despite being aware it would not exactly calm his teammate’s anxiety about the whole thing.

 But there was only one way to gain the answers they wanted and that was by stepping into the room, pushing themselves through the crowd of colorful soldiers that had gathered, and when Grif was finally in the front, facing this strange investigator turned out to be rather anti-climatic.

 When a mysterious stranger asks for you by name, Grif had expected troubles. An intimidating presence, probably a mean stare, definitely some sort of superior who was not a fan of positive words.

 But when Grif saw the newcomer, the first thought that hit him was: whose grandma is this? That was perhaps a rather quick judgment but since this planet was mainly inhabited by battle-scarred teenagers, this investigator definitely belonged in the older end, with her grey hair and wrinkles. Though, her furrowed forehead could probably from stressful work through the years.

 While she seemed far from fragile - no shaking limbs since she was able to rise from her chair in a swift and elegant movement - she did not seem like a soldier. Her rather stern expression - thin mouth and focused eyes - reminded him of the some of the UNSC staff he had met back when he had been drafted, one of those ladies behind the desk who was spending half of her life reading paperwork.

 When her dark, almond-shaped eyes settled on him, the corner of her lips turned upwards in a polite, satisfied smile. Judging from the half-empty cup of tea on the table, Kimball had let her wait for some time.

 “Heroes of Chorus,” she said as she greeted them with a short bow. “I’m honored to be here.”

 “We still haven’t been informed of why you are here,” Carolina reminded her, keeping her voice just gentle enough to keep the statement from being rude.

 “My apologies. But I had preferred to keep some details confidential.” Sensing that confession did not exactly help with the tension in the room, she added, “My name is Marisol Rizal and I am currently running an independent investigation of the Uplora massacre. Which is why I requested to speak with Captain Dexter Grif.” 

As soon as she finished speaking, three words were exclaimed at once.

 “Uplora?”

“Grif?”

 “Hi.”

 It was Wash, Simmons and Caboose that had spoken - in that order.

 She briefly smiled at Caboose’s greeting, but then set her eyes on Grif again. The orange soldier had gone completely still, stiff as a statue, and Simmons had turned his head to stare at him.

 In truth, every single person in the room was staring at Grif who was a little bit too busy dealing with the invisible punch to the stomach which the investigator’s words had caused. He was suddenly grateful that he had put back on his helmet before meeting up with the others - despite the secret pride of his poker face abilities, he doubted he had been able to keep his expression neutral when he had been granted this piece of information.

 Kimball was the first to direct the attention back at Rizal. “And what do you require from him?”

 “An interview, first of all. And I have managed to uncover some evidence I would like to hear his thoughts on. The entire business should take less than a day.”

 “A day?” Carolina repeated, and Grif understood the confusion - none of the earlier reporters had requested more than a few hours from them, and they had been lucky if they had granted them the time.

 “I-” She seemed to search for the right words for a moment, eyes darting around before settling on Grif again. “From what I’ve gathered from the previous reports, I understand that you prefer to keep quiet about the experience. I can explain further under two eyes if that is what you want.”

 Grif blinked, slowly understanding that this was a question directed towards him and that they actually demanded answers. Too bad his mind was still stuck in oh shit-mode and scrambling a simple sentence together proved to be quite the task. “Uh…”

 “Wait, what the fuck is Uplora?” Tucker kept turning his head to look from Grif to Rizal, waiting for one of them to give him an answer.

 His question made Grif’s stomach twist itself again, and it was that dreadful feeling that finally allowed him to speak. “Not really a fan of interviews. So, I’ll pass.”

 “It’s important,” Rizal insisted. When Kimball looked like she was about to speak again, she quickly added, “I understand you want this business over with as quickly as possible, which is why I decided to seek you out first. Please. I am first of all doing this for the ones who lost someone dear in the massacre, and reading your profile I believed you would be interested in-”

 “Massacre?” Donut gasped. “That doesn’t sound-”

 “Look, just-” Grif held up his hands, feeling an unfamiliar and unwelcome panic traveling up his spine. “Fuck. Fine. Five minutes, but two eyes and all that. So fuck off,” he told his friends. Perhaps it came out rather harsh but honestly, the only reason he agreed to this talk with a reporter was the make sure they were not told shit.

 He has resisted the urge to run out of the room, only because he knew that it would leave them alone with this Rizal and he was not counting on her to keep quiet. Just when she had spoken the name, and oh it had been a long time since he had heard someone say it out loud, things had been stirred up.

 “Are you sure?” Kimball asked. She almost sounded concerned which just increased Grif’s need to get away from the scene.

 “Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Whatever. It’s fine. Five minutes,” he said again, and Rizal nodded.

 “I will explain the situation. You can make your choice about your involvement then.”

 The group was slow to leave the room, especially Simmons who had to stare at Grif for four long seconds before finally trudging after the others.

 When the door finally slid closed and they were alone, Rizal had already sat down in the chair when Grif turned around. She had folded her hands which were covered by white gloves. They matched the rest of her pale uniform; white with dark green trims, and her neck was surrounded by what seemed to be an uncomfortable stiff and tall collar.

 “I am sorry for causing all this. I know it must be unexpected. And unwelcome.”

 Grif considered whether to take a seat as well but in the end chose to stand. “Your point?”

 “I’m afraid I can’t say much here. But since beginning my investigation I have found remains that will, eventually, stir up attention. By contacting you now I hope to save you from potential troubles later on.” She actually sounded apologetic which reduced Grif’s annoyance, just a little bit.

 “Question,” he cut in. “Just what the fuck are you investigating?” The matter had been left behind years ago. They had asked him a lot of questions while he had still been stuck in the hospital, but then they had told him there was nothing more they needed to know. They had declared him fit for duty, shoved a glass of pills into his hand, and the day after he had been dropped off in Blood Gulch.

 It had been quiet since then, and Grif had honestly preferred the silence.

 “Because,” she said, voice careful and leveled, “I wanted to know the truth. And as I can show you on my ship, I don’t think the previously given details match up.”

“And what does that have to do me?” Grif grunted, losing patience.

She tilted her head slightly. “Because I figured you wanted justice for your dead teammates.”

He was not sure if it was intended to be a low blow, but that was what it felt like. For a brief moment he recalled pale, still faces before he forced the memories away.

“You’ve been through a lot, Captain Grif, and I understand why this is subject you would prefer to avoid. But I am doing this for your sake as well, so you can gain the truth, and so you cannot be lied to once more. I know I am asking for a lot-”

“Just what are you asking for? Some assholes in coats interviewed me back then - can’t you just copy their work? Less effort required and you’ll probably get the same grade. Worked for me in high school.”

 To his surprise, she actually laughed softly. “I wish it was that simple. But in order to get my hands on something presentable, I must gather the evidence myself. So here is what I ask from you: you come to my ship, I get to film an interview and I will show you what I have found so far.”

 “And just what am I gaining from this?”

 “I would point out that you will be doing the right thing, but I understand that is not what you need to hear. You would be gaining my discretion, and it would be the last thing I ask of you. I promise to get this whole thing over with as quickly as possible, and as comfortable for you as I can manage.”

 Her last arguments were definitely more convincing than her moral reasoning. The part that Grif found most compelling was the mention of her ship. Right now he had the growing suspicion that his teammates had their ears pressed against the other side of the door, hoping to gain some more information.

 And his friends finding out about his past was the biggest of Grif’s worries right now. The few mentions that Rizan had dropped was bad enough, and Grif knew a storm of questions would hit him the moment he left the room.

 At least he could tell them to fuck off and mind their own fucking business. But he had sensed the underlying warning in Rizan’s explanation. If he did not take care of this now, this whole thing could escalate and the last thing he needed was actual reporters on Chorus just to discuss the colony. At least Rizan had offered to keep his friends out of it.

 “What would we be discussing?” he asked, trying to sound as casual about it as possible.

 “A lot of the questions will be familiar to you since I know the UNSC did make a report after the disaster. I am looking at the entire case from a new angle, so hopefully I can shine lights on parts not explored before.”

 He did not want to talk about this whole thing, he did not what to remember what he had spent so many years to forget, but if she just stuck to the same questions like the one the UNSC had asked he could manage. He had done it all before.

 “If I go too far, you tell me, and I will drop the subject. I will share what I have found so far, if you want to. I am… deeply invested in coming to the bottom of this. I lost someone dear in the chaos, and I firmly believe that the victims, you included, deserve more than what was done. What little information you can give me would be much appreciated.”

 Grif held back a groan as the headache became apparent. This was not how he had planned to spend the day.

 And the voice back in the corner of his skull, reminding him of how close Kai had been to become one of those left behind, did not help at all.

 “Details about the investigation and its progress must await till we reach space. I am sure you of all will appreciate that we keep things quiet.  You would be back by evening, tomorrow morning at the latest. If we board my ship now-”

 “Wait, we’re leaving Chorus?” Grif frowned, unsure of what exactly this meant.

 Rizan nodded. “I’m afraid that General Kimball and I discovered that Chorus’ political situation is rather fragile at the moment. You have just been put back on the galactic map, and if this planet’s next big stunt is to be directly involved in my investigation, you are only known for rather controversial scandals. Both the General and I agreed it was best to keep Chorus out of this.”

 “So… Space?” Grif said rather weakly, unsure of just how to comment on this. He understood Kimball’s choice but on the other hand, it just left him more questions about just what Rizan was trying to discover.

 “As close to Chorus as possible. You’ll be back as soon as I’ve gathered what I need.” She smiled again, softly. “I have refreshments ready on my ship. Coffee or tea?”

 He answered the joke with an amused huff. He closed his eyes, thankful for how the visor shielded his face. “How about something stronger?”

 “A very black coffee then. Does this mean you are willing to help?”

 Her hopeful voice almost caused him to groan out loud. It was not like he had a  handful of options. There was apparently no way of avoiding this subject being brought up again - now he just had to get it dealt with as quickly as possible.

 This was going to be the most dreadful tea party he had ever been invited to.

 “And there is no way you won’t just take no as an answer?” He shrugged, not even believing she might give him a pleasant answer.

 “To your surprise, I think you might become rather invested in my case once I show you my progress.”

 “Yeah… I seriously doubt that.”

 “We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?” She winked, apparently deciding the matter was done with. “I’ll exchange contacts with General Kimball so you can be contacted should the need arrive. I would not want to steal one of their beloved Captains.”

 Grif snorted. “Beloved is a very strong word. Unless we are speaking about Matthews.”

 “I’ll meet you in an hour,” she informed him, cutting to the chase. She definitely seemed like one of the paperwork ladies now.

 “Right. And you won’t-”

 “I will keep quiet about any details of the massacre. Any. It is rather obvious you want them uninformed about this. I understand.”

 Grif searched for something to say, tongue running across dry lips. It would be nice to have the final word in the conversation, mainly to keep up the weak illusion that he actually had a say in all this, but Grif could feel his control over the situation slipping through his fingers. But it seemed like there was not anything to add to what had already been said.

 So he turned around, marching out of the room, and when the door slid open he tried not to comment on how his friends seemingly had been leaning against the wall. Tucker almost had to leap backward when Grif did not slow down his steps.

 “She wants to talk with you,” he informed Kimball with a shrug before someone else could break the silence.

 The questions came immediately afterward. “Dude, what was that about?”

 “Sorry,” Grif said without a hint of caring, “confidential knowledge and all that.”

 “C’mon. Really?”

 Grif continued his way down the pathway, more determined than ever to dodge their question. But Carolina took a step forward, slowing him down just enough for him to hear. “I was not aware you had ties with the Uplora incident.”

 At least it was not directly a question. Grif appreciated that.

 “Let’s just…” He clenched his hands in frustration.  “Not.”

 In the corner of the hallway, Donut tilted his head. “Grif-” Simmons was standing quietly next to him.

 Knowing he would have to spend the rest of the evening answering questions, Grif decided he needed a break now. He continued to walk away.

 “Where the fuck are you going?” Tucker asked, obviously not ready to let go of the newest source of slander.

 Grif flipped him off without looking over his shoulder. “Mess hall. It’s lunchtime and I am not letting Bitters steal all the tacos with extra cheese.”

 The did not follow him, at least. But he sure as hell heard the hushed muttering among his friends before he finally gained enough distance between them so he could walk in silence.

 He did not go to the mess hall. The last thing he needed right now was someone asking for yet another autograph - which meant he had to avoid Gold Team. Matthews had been saving the papers with handwriting, probably hiding them under his pillow or some shit, and Grif had discovered that Bitters was trying to gain a stock of autographs, only so he could sell them to other soldiers for some quick cash. Grif could almost respect that, had the constant requests from his soldiers not been so freaking annoying.

 If Bitters truly was smart he would just start writing fake autographs. Much easier and it would increase production. Now Grif just felt a bit disappointed in his Lieutenant.

 Grif went to the quarters he and Simmons shared. For a moment he just stood in the middle of the room, wondering what to do next.

 Should he pack? Rizan had mentioned he might have to stay overnight and so bringing a toothbrush could be a good idea… Grif nearly burst out laughing, remembering he would never bother to bring a toothbrush around anywhere.

 He sat down heavily on his bed, removing his helmet so he could run a hand through his hair.

 Grif liked asking questions. Most of his pillow talk with Simmons had started from what if’s, lot of hypothetical scenarios, questions about the mysteries of the universe where he never truly expected a final answer from his teammate.

 Switching roles and being forced to answer questions on the other hand…

 Most of the UNSC’s questions had been reduced to numbers. Grif could deal with that. Numbers were simple, short answers with no need to dig further into it. When had the attack happened, how many attackers, how many aliens had died, how many of his teammates had died, when did he wake up, how many days until help had arrived…

 Numbers. Simple and quick. The answer could be shorted down into one word, minimum effort required. Still annoying as fuck but he could deal with them.

 He could not talk his way out of this, no way to change the subject. It was not like the closet accident which he could easily avoid since neither he or Simmons wanted to bring it up.

 The first days afterward had been awkward as hell, since Simmons’ face was constantly red, and if Grif as much as said his name he would jump in surprise and his voice would break. Anyone watching must have thought Simmons was trying to cover up a murder with that amount of anxiety.

 After they had agreed that the whole thing had never taken place - since that agreement made it easier it easier not to talk about it - things had still been… tense. It was suddenly too easy to make Simmons stutter, too easy to make him blush, too easy to make him storm out of the room, and it all seemed to have lost its amusement value.

 Whenever one of them lost their cool, it could take hours before they could begin another normal conversation. When the movie night had been suggested, it had seemed like the first step towards constant normalcy. A casual, not-awkward, comfortable, totally normally friendly friendship movie marathon like they had done so many times before.

 They probably had to sit at different ends of the couch, since Simmons still withdrew his hands like if he had been burned every time they accidentally touched but it could still work…

 Grif was so busy planning a movie night that was not going to take place that he did not notice when Simmons stepped inside the room. He did, however, become aware of his presence the moment he closed the door - the action was just a bit too forceful than normally.

 Simmons placed himself in the opposite end of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “You wanna talk about it?”

 “Nope.” Grif smacked his lips before readjusting himself so he was lying down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

 “Yeah. Figured.”

 Simmons had taken off his helmet, revealing a very deep frown. He seemed to be chewing the inside of his cheek.

 Grif could not help but catch the bitterness in his voice. He turned his head so he was staring at him. “What?” he asked with a slight sneer to his voice. He hated when Simmons was acting passive-aggressive. He sucked at it.

 “Nothing.” Simmons looked away, slightly lifting his chin.

 “Great.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Awesome.”

 There were two seconds of silence and then Simmons started shuffling his feet. “I mean, you have apparently been a part of a big galactic controversy and you never really felt like telling me, despite knowing me for years so…”

 Grif sat up, groaning. “Seriously, Simmons?”

 “I just thought we had reached that stage where we would tell each other stuff like that.”

 “Stage? We are we - in a fucking play?!”

 “You know what I mean!” Simmons was sounding flustered again, but this time from annoyance rather than awkwardness. His eyes were narrowed.

 “Tough shit, Simmons. I love sharing tragic backstories. I am sure you are all up to talking ‘bout your sweet daddy. It really brightens up the dinner conversations, huh.”

 Simmons seemed to choke on air. “At least you know about it,” he muttered. The strength returned to his voice when he started to accuse Grif again. “I had to hear it from an investigator-”

 “Why the fuck do you care?”

 “Because I should know-”

 Grif stood up from the bed, headache stronger than ever. “What the fuck kind of right is that?!”

 Simmons inhaled sharply, finally looking directly at Grif’s face. His mouth was twisted in a manner that looked like a painful scowl. His feelings were hurt, and Grif did not want to deal with it. The maroons soldier sighed. “I just thought we were-”

 “We were what?” Grif challenged.

 Their staring competition lasted for around five seconds. Then Simmons turned his head. “Never mind.”

 “Exactly,” Grif agreed but he was not sure if Simmons heard him.

 When his teammate slammed the door behind him as he stormed out of the room, Grif could not help but flinch at the sound. He blamed the headache.

[the-sara-voe]

Chapter 1: An Old Friend

“All things remarkable are surprisingly simple; albeit difficult to find”.

-Criss Jami

Masterlist

Despite his endeavors requiring him to travel by plane for years, David Rossi never found it easy to fall asleep in the air. The white noise that lulled Reid to close his eyes often left David's open. The sterile leather of the seats are too stiff for his aging back, but it did not bother Byun, the newest in the group. Rossi had yet to fully warm up to Sena Byun, mainly because she carries herself with arrogance, making it harder for him to be patient. However, Rossi wonders if that is just his age showing.

He is a man of many trades. Whether he is catching the bad guys, writing books, or lecturing to students. His well-used time saw many friends come and go. Even Prentiss's tolerance from over the years is wearing thin. Most people Rossi established a friendship with had left, perhaps it is time he moved on as well.

That or it could be his intuition, telling him to stay in D.C. when his foot hit the ladder of the jet a few days before. Some force pulled him to stay that time. There was a sense that Rossi was needed there more than for the case. This was not driven by fear, not this time. David could not help but think there was something important waiting for him at home.

"Hey, you want some coffee"? Prentiss stated, leaning on a seat across from David, on her way to the snack cart.

"No, thank you". He replied, looking to his left to face the window.

Prentiss asks him how he is doing. His delivery is distant, almost cold. This is not consistent with his personality, and with him being raised Italian Catholic.

Rossi sighs, still peering out the airplane window. The sky and earth match their black tint, the dark buildings twinkling with small lights. The lower his eyes travel D.C., the brighter the ground becomes. He prefers his peace and quiet, sitting in his boat, scanning for ducks through his gun scope. Rossi couldn't remember the last he went hunting. It is the one activity that drifted his mind away from criminology. The atmosphere on the water is perfect for cleansing his mind of the vile. He longed for the relief the activity provides.

David looks at her, giving her a small smile, "I have been at this for years. I think I should spend some time doing something else", Rossi states with full content, not just for the future, but for his past and present.

Prentiss shares a supportive, care-exuding grin. She nodded her head gently before saying, "I thought you might retire soon".

"I had a feeling that since four out of my six oldest's have left the job, dad should probably step down too".

Both of them chuckle, staying quiet since everyone else is asleep.

"Have you told anyone else"? Prentiss asked, now sitting in the seat in front of him.

"Well I just decided now", Rossi states, "so you're the first to know".

Prentiss still wears a comforting smile on her face, although her eyes blink away her uncertain thoughts. She cups her hands on the table and calmly starts, "I guess I should probably tell you before everyone else wakes up".

"You're leaving too"?

The question earns a soft laugh from Emily, "Not leaving leaving. How did you know"?

"A little birdy told me".

"JJ told you"?

"Just before she left for New Orleans, she said, 'Wish the new Director of the FBI luck for me'".

"She's too sweet", Prentiss admitted, adding, "this means we can plan barbecues more now".

The both of them grin at the thought, "only if you come with me on my post-retirement vacation", said Rossi.

Prentiss shakes her head, amused. Minutes are mere blinks for these two, and before they can wonder how Alvez sleeps with his head on the table, the pilot announces their landing.

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Everyone lumbers off the plane and scrapes the soles of their shoes against the ground, making their way toward the conference room. Sitting at the round table, tapping away on a tablet, is a woman. Her curly hair is alive and free. Her tortoiseshell glasses slip from her nose just slightly, until she looks up to greet her coworkers.

"Glad to see you all home safe", Tusajigwe stated, her Tanzanian accent coming through. Her parents must have visited since her accent is usually subtle. They primarily speak Swahili when they are all together.

Luke Alvez places his bags on the table and opens his arms out to Tusajigwe. "You didn't have to wait for me to come back, Chica".

The young technology analyst brings her palm in front of Luke, stopping his movements. She glances him up and down, saying in a teasing tone, "I don't wait for men, Chico. But I do wait for my roommate since she has the keys to my car".

Byun searches the pockets of her backpack before finding the keys. The two proceed to bicker back and forth before Simmons pipes in.

"You two are an old married couple".

"What can I say", Sena voiced, wrapping an arm around Tusajigwe, "Women who want to take down the patriarchy together, stick together".

Prentiss, Rossi, and even Reid are tickled by the three's silliness. They all secretly reflect on the earlier years when they had an eagerness but naivety to the job. They smile at the memories of being young.

The Three Musketeers, as Rossi called them, settled down when Tusajigwe Selemani asked Sena to go start the car outside.

"See you in a bit TuTu", Byun chimed, walking out of the conference room. Luke and Simmons, being gentlemen, walk with her. Despite her protests of being able to take down both of them if given the opportunity.

"I hate that she calls me that", Selemani chuckled, taking a seat again at the round table.

Spencer looks up with his bags in hand, "I think it's sweet", he said, before bidding everyone goodnight and exiting the room. Prentiss left for her office shortly after.

Rossi is about to do the same until Tusajigwe stood up.

"Rossi, there is someone waiting for you in your office".

"At one o'clock in the morning"? Rossi asked.

"I know it's late, but he has been here for hours waiting for you to get back. He actually came to see you the day you left for this last case".

"Who is he"?

"He said you two knew each other. His name is...", she paused finding the paper she wrote the information on, "Stephen Gideon''.

Rossi pauses. Stephen Gideon hadn’t been a subject of thought for a long time. They last saw each other at the funeral of Stephen's father, Jason. He was a hard loss for many, but Stephen struggled the most. His resentment toward Jason complicated Stephen’s grief. Rossi told Stephen that he would always be there if he needed anything. After all, Stephen was technically Rossi’s nephew. The two of them talked on the phone once a year if they caught each other, but it had been about two years since their last conversation.

Selemani looks at Rossi and asks if he is okay, if she did something wrong. Rossi reassured her that everything is fine, however, this may be something they keep between the two of them. If Stephen is coming to talk in person now after many years, it’s because something is amiss.

Rossi thanked Tusajigwe and bid her goodnight before swiftly walking toward his office. Softly, he opened the door, hoping to prevent the hinges from squeaking. The approach did not work.

Standing in the back of the room is Stephen. His hair is messy, unkept. He had a bit of a stubble that he scratched at gently, indicating that he is not used to the sensation. His eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep.

"Stephen, sit down", Dave said calmly, nurturing. Rossi leaned on the front of his desk as Stephen took a seat in front of him. "What happened"?

Stephen's elbows sat on his knees as his hands wiped his face. He hadn't looked like this since Jason's funeral. Rossi's heart sank.

"I...", Stephen started, now looking to the side and rubbing his neck. "I was looking through some of my dad's stuff. The girls wanted to see the bird books..."

Rossi nodded, feeling the push and pull of Stephen's tension. Jason loved birds, and consequently, the Gideon grandkids take after their grandfather.

"We found a book that was just full of beautiful paintings of birds, and the kids and I were looking through it. We turned the page to look at this Robin painting, and I found an envelope with my name on it", Stephen still looked away from Rossi, his foot tapping nervously now.

"I didn't want to read it initially, I kept it in my office for a while. I finally got the courage to look at it and...well", Stephen took out the note from the breast pocket of his jacket. He hands it to Rossi saying, "Just look at it".

Rossi took the note, cautious and curious all at once. Unfolding the paper, he skimmed the text, before seeing a line he had to make sure of. Reading the few lines in depth again, his confusion is now certainty.

Surprise riddling his face, Rossi looks up at Stephen. In complete disbelief, delivering it more as a question, Rossi said something he never thought he would say.

"Jason Gideon has a daughter".

[dresupi]

The Man of My Dreams

For: @ibelieveinturtles​ Ship: Brock Rumlow/Darcy Lewis Sweetheart Prompt:  Heart Throb Word Count: 4,641 Rating: E Other tags: SHIELD Agent Darcy Lewis, Dreams, Crushes, Bachelor Auction, Snark, Companionable Snark, Flirting, Smut, One Shot, POV Darcy Lewis, POV Brock Rumlow, POV Alternating

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DARCY

“So, like… I was having this dream, right?” Darcy began, reaching over to steal a chip from the bag Bobbi had in front of her. “Like, you know I don’t normally have dreams that make any kind of sense. Or that I even remember usually.”

“Right, yeah…” Bobbi nodded, snatching her chip bag out of Darcy’s reach. “But judging by your tone, this one was neither nonsense nor forgettable?”

“Correct,” Darcy said. “It was neither of those things. It was a…” She lowered her voice for the next part. “Sex dream.”

Her friend had no reaction. “So? I have those all the time. Me and Timothy Olyphant tear up the sheets on a regular basis. Sometimes Uma Thurman joins us.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t about a celebrity though. It was about someone I know.”

Bobbi’s eyebrow twitched an almost infinitesimal amount. “Someone you know?”

“Someone I see on a regular basis. Someone who comes into my office on the regular.”

“You’re about to say it’s me, and then we’re going to find out this has been some straight dude lesbian porno the whole time, aren’t we?”

“No,” Darcy sighed, kicking her under the table. “It’s Brock, you goober.” She’d meant to whisper that last bit. But it all came tumbling out without preamble. “It’s Brock, and I think… I think I’m having feelings.”

Bobbi’s jaw dropped, which was a helluva reaction to get from her assassin-friend. She also scooted the bag of chips back over for Darcy to reach. This was chip-sharing news. It was serious.

“You’re not. You can’t have feelings for Brock. You said it before. He’s hairy and icky.”

“I only tell him that in order to keep his ego in check. Do you know how impossible he’d be if he found out I thought he was attractive?”

Bobbi groaned. “Only too well.”

“Okay, so you know this obviously has to stay between us, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Okay, well…” Darcy chomped down on another chip.

“So you’ve got the full-on hots for Brock now?” Bobbi teased. “Not just an aesthetic appreciation for how long he spends in the gym?”

“I don’t care if he’s shredded like a bag of cheese at a Taco Bell, the most aesthetically pleasing thing about him is that fucking jawline.”

Bobbi inhaled sharply, nodding. “That jawline’s what shreds the cheese at Taco Bell.”

“Okay, so I thought the feelings I got after the dream would go away, but it’s been like two weeks, and they haven’t.”

“You want me to ask Hill to send you to Hawaii or something? You could get a suntan, forget about old whats-his-name. Find yourself a cabana boy. To mix your drinks and toss your salad.”

Darcy had to admit, the offer sounded tempting. But she was happy with what she was doing now. Which was training with Bobbi to become a better field agent and get sent out on more missions. She had the brain for hacking, but she needed the strength so SHIELD would actually send her out to do it. If she asked for a fluff assignment just because she was all gaga over a sex dream where Brock went down on her like it was his job, then well… she probably needed to reevaluate what she wanted out of this job.

There were far worse reasons to ask for a fluff assignment. Hot and horny for Agent Rumlow wasn’t one of them.

“Nah, I should be fine. I might need to go get a massage or something. I could be stressed. They say that sex dreams are never about sex, right? It’s about… something else I’m lacking.”

Bobbi stifled a laugh, but not very well since Darcy could very well hear it. “Yeah. Something you’re lacking.”

“Stop it,” Darcy grabbed the last chip. “I’m gonna book a massage, wanna come with?”

“You know I won’t say no to a spa day.”

“Didn’t say anything about a spa day.”

Bobbi shot her a look. “You’re just gonna get a massage and not get a wrap and a facial?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Darcy pulled out her phone to book appointments on the spa’s app. “Under the usual pseuds?”

“You know it.”

“So, uh… speaking of people upon which we have crushes…” Darcy said, dragging it out in a sing-song way that was annoying Bobbi. She reached for her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Just say it, you know you want to.”

“How many bachelor raffle tickets are you buying now that Lance is up for grabs?”

“Zero,” Bobbi said with a smirk.

“What?”  Darcy followed her out of the cafeteria. “What do you mean, zero? Are you guys over again?”

“Again. For good. Good riddance. I heard Simmons is selling a romantic picnic. I might go for that,” Bobbi said with a shrug.

“Oh? You and Simmons?”

Her friend smiled and mimed zipping her lips. “Nothing to talk about yet, so…”

“Fine, fine. I guess I’ll just languish away in the land of the unknown gossip.”

“Guess you’ll have to,” Bobbi replied, linking her arm with Darcy’s to hurry her up towards the parking garage.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

RUMLOW

Rumlow knew he probably should have either made his presence known or somehow left the cafeteria before Darcy got started in on the meat of her story. But every time he started to move, his chair would squeak, and he knew she’d hear him. Then she’d turn around and be embarrassed. Because, by the time he figured out he should leave, she was already spilling to Morse about her sex dream. About him.

Did it make him a pig if he preened a little because of her dream? Her dream about him? He couldn’t imagine any man in his position could hear Lewis talk about her nocturnal fantasies and not square his shoulders a little. That didn’t make it okay and he knew it. Most men were not the type of person anyone should aspire to mimic. He probably shouldn’t be taking the easy way out and using them to gauge where he was on the dickhead meter.

He stayed stock-still like his years of training prepared him to do. His back was to the two of them, but he could see their reflections in the shiny mirrors placed all over the lunchroom. Probably due to some rule that served to make everyone a little less nervous. Ever since that whole Hydra incident, everyone had wanted eyes in the backs of their heads. Everyone had also given him dirty looks for an entire year after he’d come back to the organization. Even after he’d been outed as a triple agent, they still didn’t trust him.

It didn’t seem to matter if the logistics of him being a quadruple agent were close to nil. But he was digressing.

The task at hand was to wait until Lewis and Morse were finished with their discussion and keep both of them from seeing him folded into a table at the corner, trying to look smaller than he was and blend into the wall.

He was far from the only other person here. In fact, one could wonder why Lewis chose such a crowded room to talk about her little clandestine crush on him.

“So you’ve got the full-on hots for Brock now?” Morse teased.

Rumlow couldn’t see it, but he was fairly certain Lewis was rolling her eyes now. He would be.

They talked for a while longer before they left for a spa day. He had to say, he was relieved Lewis wouldn’t be transferring. He very much doubted a sex dream would account for a transferral across the country like that. Plus, SHIELD allowed inter-company relationships. As long as they were disclosed to HR.

What, did she not think he’d reciprocate? Did she really not know how much he’d give to have her return one of his heated glances? Just one?

He picked up his fork again, swirling it through the leftover mashed potatoes on his plate. Before he could do anything, he’d have to come clean to her. After years of lying to everyone he knew, being truthful was very important to him.

So he’d have to tell her the truth, then he could gloat all he wanted about Darcy liking his chiseled jaw. She liked it a lot, apparently. Even more than his abs. Which he kind of thought was one of his better features. But whatever. He wasn’t about to argue with a lady he found one-hundred-percent fuckable in every single way. Hell, he’d even call her pretty if she asked. How’s that for a supposed dickhead.

Yeah, that didn’t really change anything, now that he thought about it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

DARCY

Darcy was minding her own business while losing a staring contest with the vending machine because while she was indeed focused inward, it wasn’t on what snack she wanted. Because truth be told, she didn’t really want a snack at all.

Well, she did want a snack, but the snack she wanted was obnoxious and conceited and knew he was a snack and who wanted a snack that knew he was a snack, right?

He is not the snack you’re looking for… she thought, her mental-voice wavering and her mental hands shimmying. She’d make a good Jedi, dammit.

“Hey, you got a second?”

She turned, halfway through assuring the person standing behind her that she’d almost made her selection when she realized that wasn’t what they’d asked at all.

And besides, the snack she wasn’t looking for was behind her. Brock Rumlow and his should-be-illegal jawline were standing there, looking at once lickable and slappable in that confusing way he had.

Sighing, she nodded. “Yeah, I got a few. Whatcha need, Stallone?”

He smirked a kind of a half-cocked, half crooked sort of expression that made him even hotter. If that were possible. Which it apparently was. “Stallone’s looking pretty rough these days, can I choose another actor?”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “You don’t get to pick ‘em, sorry bout it.”

“Yeah, whatever. Listen… I need to talk to you about something,” Brock began, lowering his voice in a way that both made Darcy have to lean forward, and also tickled her in places she wasn’t about to admit to being tickled by a voice.

“What’s up?” she asked, leaning against the side of the vending machine.

“Look, I saw you in the cafeteria the other day… with Bobbi?”

Alarm flared immediately, her skin heating up and cooling just as quickly. “Oh?” Maybe he hadn’t heard it. Or at least hadn’t heard the whole entire thing.

Oh please Thor, let him not have heard the entire thing. Let the sound of air whistling between his ears have drowned it out or something… please?

“Yeah, I, uh… I should have told you I was sitting there, I’m sorry…” he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his head in a way that at least felt contrite.

“Sitting where?” Darcy asked, her voice sounding shrill and a touch panicky.

“Behind you. I couldn’t see you, so I didn’t even know it was you and what you were talking about until it was too late. I didn’t want to embarrass you so--”

“So you just sat there and listened? Dude!  Not cool!”

“I know, I know… I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you had a good little laugh at my expense didn’t you?” Darcy asked, her tone icy and cold. “So funny how I’m all warm for you, isn’t it? Well, suck a dick, Rumlow! You’d only be so lucky.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “Are you done? Because I wanted to have an adult conversation about this and--”

“And nothing. I am done. Do you know? Because it’s not a real crush. It’s just because of the dream. That’s it. It’s going to go away.”

“Oh, is it?” he asked, sounding very much like he didn’t believe her.

But Darcy didn’t really care. Anything was better than having him make fun of her, or worse… having him ‘let her down easy’ or whatever it was he was trying to do.

“Yup. It’s gonna be gone by Valentine’s Day, I can guaran-damn-tee it.”

“By Valentine’s huh? You’d better go out and snap up a date then,” he sneered.

“Maybe I will! Hell, you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna buy ten of those bachelor raffle tickets they’re selling around here. I”m gonna buy ‘em, hope and hope and cross my fingers, and if they call my name, I’m gonna hook up with a hottie. You know anyone who’s selling them?”

“I am,” he said smugly. “I’m one of the bachelors being raffled.”

“Awesome. Put me down for ten. I’ll Venmo the money to wherever.”

“They set up a fund. I’ll message you the information…” He pulled out his phone and swiped around until Darcy had a link in her DMs. She immediately sent the money, not looking up at him once. “Thanks. I’ll see you there,” he ventured.

Darcy chuckled. “Not if I see you first, Stallone.”

She wasn’t sure what that was, exactly.  But she was embarrassed and had just spent a thousand dollars on bachelor raffle tickets. Someone should take her debit card away when she was like this.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

RUMLOW

The raffle took place the week before Valentine’s Day, and Rumlow had worn his formal wear, like he’d been instructed to.  He thought he looked pretty good. He’d even spent extra time on his hair.  Well, more time than usual, and that was saying something because he was not born with this volume naturally. It took work.

Raffle cards were drawn by Agent May. With her smirking face, she drew card after card. Some men, some women. Some were people he knew, some weren’t.

And one by one, the bachelors and bachelorettes were chosen, until there were only about five of them left.  Himself, Lance Hunter, Mack, May herself, and Simmons.

May drew the next raffle card, and her eyes widened, grinning as she read the name.

“Darcy Lewis.”

Rumlow’s stomach dropped down into his gut.  She’d said she wouldn’t choose him. That’s what she’d said.

So why was he so nervous? He shouldn’t be nervous.

Except he didn’t want to see her pick any of the others up here. He could see her picking Simmons just so Fitz wouldn’t have a conniption. Simmons wasn’t a threat per se.

If she picked Hunter, though.  Or Mack. Or May.

Rumlow’s stomach settled like a stone in his gut as he watched her make her way up from her seat to the stage to take her pick.

May was grinning between him and her like she was expecting something to happen. He was almost sorry to disappoint her. But it would also be fun to watch Darce subvert May’s expectations.

Darcy was looking between the five of them up here.  Rumlow subconsciously reached up to straighten his collar and someone catcalled. At him? He couldn’t be sure.

And when she opened her mouth to speak, he was dreading what she’d say.

“Agent Rumlow, I guess.”

His eyebrows raised in pure surprise, but he was the only one who seemed surprised.

“Certainly seemed to deliberate on that decision,” May teased and nodded in his direction. “C’mon, Rumlow. Tell her what she’s won.”

“I uh… I’ll take her out dancing and for a five-star dinner. I’ll be the perfect gentleman,” he added at the end, to another round of catcalling. He wrinkled his nose. People were gross. “I mean it,” he added. “No sarcasm.”

Darcy tilted her head and held out her hand. Realizing belatedly that he was supposed to take it and vacate the stage, Rumlow stumbled a little as they left the stage and walked back behind the makeshift curtain they had up.

“I thought you weren’t going to pick me,” he said, smirking a little as Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Don’t make me regret my decision. You promised to be a gentleman.”

“On the date.”

“Fine, but no funny business or I’ll cancel the date. I don’t mind donating a thousand bucks to charity.”

“That you didn’t have to bother, I’d have taken you out for nothing.”

“Yeah, I know. But at least this way, you can’t make fun of me for falling for you.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he countered.

She shot him a look.

“I’d barely do that.”

“I’ll see you on Valentine’s, Rumlow.” She turned to leave.  “You’ve got my number.” It was a statement, not a question.

He did have it. And he’d have complained more about their short convo if he hadn’t gotten to watch her walk away. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a ruffled blouse.

Fuck, she was pretty.

There. He was getting better.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

DARCY

Darcy shifted in her seat after Brock had pushed her chair in behind her.  The food was already ordered, she’d just come back from the bathroom to find out it had been served.

Prime rib and sweet pea risotto.

Hers was untouched, which… was kind of a given considering that even at his worst, Brock wasn’t an animal who would steal his date’s food. But his was untouched too, which meant he’d waited for her to return.

He’d just taken his seat and scooped up his fork and steak knife, holding them poised as he looked at her expectantly.

“You want me to say grace?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow expectantly. He was Catholic. Or he pretended well. He had that saint on the dashboard of his car. Why did she know that?

He chuckled and shook his head. “Not unless that’s your thing. I was just waiting for you. It’s the polite thing to do.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed. “Yeah, it is.” Her voice sounded sour, but she wasn’t sure why.

The date was everything he’d promised it would be. And maybe that’s what was wrong. He was being a total gentleman. And this wasn’t what had attracted her to him. This weird Ken-doll approach to a romantic evening. Hell, she half expected him to have a hot pink Jeep Wrangler when he picked her up. Everything he did felt forced and plastic.

Dancing had been fun, but he had held her a respectable distance away, the only heat she felt was from his hands on her waist. He had this way of looking at her sometimes. The heat barely contained behind those dark eyes of his, and she felt like she was about to combust.

That look was gone. Or hidden, at the very least.

And now they were eating dinner. Well, they were about to, and he was waiting for her to start before he even so much as cut his steak? This was weird. Too weird. She didn’t like it.

“Eat when you want, dude. No skin off my nose,” she reached for her steak knife and began to slice through the prime rib.

It was good. It wasn’t like she was expecting aged prime rib to be bad or anything, but it was really good. She ate too much. But she still tried to eat some of the dessert. It was chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream and some kind of cherry cordial on top.  They lit it on fire before bringing it to the table.

And as she and Brock shared it, she caught his eye, their spoons clinked, and she saw an inkling of that heat she’d been missing. He was looking at her like he usually did, not like Date-Brock had been. “You wanna go back to my place?” she asked.

“Well, the date officially ends when I take you to your door,” he said warily.

“Okay, so the date ends and then my good friend Rumlow comes in for coffee at eleven at night for no reason other than I have coffee to make and he’s in the neighborhood? Sound good?”

She happened to know she was fresh out of coffee, so she really, really hoped he’d either settle for tea or realize this wasn’t actually coffee she was asking for.

He swallowed visibly, his throat bobbing before he nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

They left after he paid for the meal. He offered his arm after they put on their coats. She hung on with both hands and could feel his muscles flex even through his coat and suit jacket. The cab ride back to her place was kind of quiet, except for the occasional throat-clearing sound from their driver, who looked as if she was about ten minutes past ready to be home.

Darcy kind of knew how she felt. But for different reasons.

Brock joined her on the ride up to her apartment from the lobby, standing a respectable distance away from her in the elevator and pressing his hand against the doors to allow her to exit first.  They arrived at her front door and he held one hand out to kiss the back of hers. She gave him a sweet smile, thanked him for the lovely evening, and disappeared behind her door.

She counted to ten and opened it again. “Heya Brock, wanna come in for coffee?”

“Absolutely.”

She reached out to close her fingers around his tie and drag him back into the apartment after her.

Her heart was thrumming, beating hard and fast as she pulled him close enough for his lips to finally crash over hers. “I promise I wasn’t trying to do this tonight,” he whispered between kisses and shrugging out of their coats.

“Why not?” she asked, grinning against his lips when their teeth clacked once.

“Was trying to be polite,” he replied, kicking off his shoes and following her lips first into her apartment, never breaking the kiss even to talk.

She was working her fingers in his tie to loosen the knot when she spoke again. “I didn’t like Date-Brock, so I hope he’s gone for good.”

“Oh thank god, I didn’t like him either,” he murmured, following her towards the stairs. “Holy shit, your apartment has two floors?”

“Yes, I bought the one above me when it vacated. Now shush and stop being so polite, Rumlow.”

“Look, sweetheart, I’ll manhandle you if that’s what you want, but I ain’t ever gonna shush.”

“Ah, so you’re a screamer?” she teased, inhaling sharply when his hands fumbled at her back for her zipper, found it, and slid it deftly down her back.

She stepped away, her dress pooling around her feet as she stepped back up the stairs, turning at the last second because falling on her ass wasn’t the way she wanted this evening to go.

Maneuvering the stairs was kind of tricky, especially when Brock couldn’t keep his damn hands to himself.  He kept running his palm over her ass when she turned to climb up a few steps, popping the elastic in her black lace panties and saying shit in that raspy, sex-drunk voice of his.

“Fuck, honey, you look even better going than you do coming…”

Darcy arched her eyebrow at him. “You haven’t seen me coming yet, don’t get ahead of yourself…”

They were finally at the landing on her second floor. Brock laughed and she tugged him by his waistband into her bedroom.  She made quick work of the button and the zipper on his suit pants, and he slid out of them like he was made to do it, crawling up after her on the mattress.

Okay, so his abs were definitely something she’d write home about. Grammy Lewis would have some words about Mr. Brock Rumlow, and none of them were fit for children to hear.

Grammy Lewis wasn’t the mental image she really wanted in her head right now, so she laid back on the pillows and watched Brock’s muscles ripple as he moved above her.

She’d like to climb on top of him, but he never let her get that far, hovering over her and rutting against her hip while his lips did absolutely sinful things to hers. And then down the column of her throat. And then down over her collarbone and then…

He pushed one hand under her breast until the nipple just popped over the lacy edge of her bra. He licked it roughly, wetting the lace in the process and making it rasp over the sensitive peak. Her hands tangled in his hair and he grunted. Growled. Rocked his hips against her until she could feel the stiffness of his cock sliding against her mound.

“Fuck,” she whispered, yanking on his hair and causing him to release her breast.  His dark eyes searched hers and she reached down to shimmy out of her panties.

He followed suit, pushing his jockeys down over his hips and kicking them off.

Brock ran his fingers over her pussy, tucking two fingers inside and wriggling them in a very pleasing way. “Fuck me, you’re soaked…”

“I’m trying to fuck you,” she whispered, biting her lip when he pushed one of her legs up at the knee and lined himself up. He was thick, so he pushed in slowly, but when his hips met hers, Darcy gasped.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning her face.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just fuck me,” she commanded, reaching around to sink her nails into his ass cheeks, relishing the hiss that resulted.

He sat back and extended her leg up so her ankle rested on his shoulder and leaned forward again, his hips setting a grueling pace that rocked her so hard, she had to moan. She couldn’t not moan at this point.  One hand snaked between them to her other breast, to push it up out of the bra as well.  Once they were both out, they bounced, nipples brushing over lace and making her breath catch as his hips hammered into her.

Their skin slapped and the bed hit the wall, her headboard rattling in time with his hips. He was hitting that spot inside her, the one that made her toes curl and that she couldn’t reach herself unless she had some sort of toy. But this was… god it was so much better.

“Brock,” she hissed. “Please, please, babe… I’m--”

“Almost there?” He grinned and slid his hand down between them to thumb over her clit and push her right over the edge without hesitation.

He must have finished soon after because he was pulling out and ducking down between her thighs to flick his tongue over her clit and make her back arch.  His tongue dove down into her opening and when she realized what he was doing, it just made her clench her thighs all the more tightly around his head.

“Jesus, Brock…”

Her second orgasm wasn’t nearly as intense as the first, but she was shaking when he pushed up on his elbows and leaned his head against her bent knee.

“You want one more?” he asked, licking his lips in an obscene way that made her want to say yes, even if her clit couldn’t possibly do anything else without hurting.

“Maybe later,” she said with a sigh, falling back on the pillows as he crawled up beside her.

“You’re right, you know.”

“What?”

“You look better coming than going.”

She would have swatted him, but she had no energy, so she just rolled over and cuddled against his side.

“You’re gonna stay, right?” she asked, jutting out her bottom lip when she looked up at him.

“Not sure it’d be polite,” he teased.

“Definitely stay then. Because your rudeness turns me on.”

“Was I rude in your dream?”

“Yes,” she said with a giggle. “Not as rude as you were just then, though.”

“Sorry, I’ll always ask before oral.”

“You’d better not,” she warned, hiking her leg up and over his hips before settling down.

[besidemethewholedamntime]

and i will always love you - chapter 3 

Fic Summary:

“He feels sorry for her. It’s hard not to. Except it doesn’t change the fact that she’s still the child of an eminent politician, using her wealth and status to arm herself in ways that others in her situation couldn’t. Fitz has protected all kinds of people who’ve done the same thing, and every last one has been a complete and utter wanker.”

When an accidental discovery causes nationwide outrage at Dr. Jemma Simmons, Protection Officer Leopold Fitz is the one called upon to be her bodyguard. It starts off as one thing and ends quite another. A bodyguard au.

Chapter Summary:

Lines, lines, and more lines. Jemma receives a slightly unpleasant letter, and Fitz worries about overstepping the boundaries drawn up in his head.

{Read Chapter Three Here}

{Read From the Beginning Here}

or read chapter three below!

The first threat comes in the post.

Fitz and Jemma have settled into a somewhat routine over the past few days. They’ve gotten used to each other’s company; in fact, they actually work really well together. They both know when they can crack jokes and when silence is required. Even though their fields don’t overlap at all they’re still able to bounce ideas off each other. It’s only been a few days, but Fitz wonders how he’s going to be able to go work with anybody else after working with her.

It’s like they’ve forgotten that there’s a threat out there, that people are plotting and scheming as they banter between their desks all day. Fitz has taken his head out of the game; has begun to enjoy this assignment he didn’t want. The arrival of the letter is a bucket of cold water over the head, the jolt back to reality that makes him feel sick, but that he needed.

It’s an innocuous letter, delivered to the labs in amongst grant paperwork and science magazines. Jemma opens it after her first meeting, which is her designated post-opening period. Fitz has made fun of it numerous times over the past few days but now he finds himself grateful for it, because it means he is there.

It’s the stereotypical threatening letter, with cut out letters and everything. It would almost be comical except when Jemma shows it to him with a pale face and trembling hands neither of them are laughing. This letter mentions personal things that can’t be found on Wikipedia or even dug up on Twitter. The thing that frightens them both the most is the mention of her address.

“How could they find that out?” Jemma whispers, staring down at the white sheet of paper, such a stark contrast to the dark oak of her desk. “How would they even know?”

Fitz, just off the phone with his superiors, shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He scrubs his hand down his face, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. “I honestly don’t know.”

A team are on their way from Scotland Yard to examine the letter and to check security, something Fitz knows he should be doing. And he will, in a minute, but right now Jemma is sitting at her desk looking quiet and shaken, so different to the Jemma he’s been getting to know. He’s meant to be pulling back, doing his job, but all the same he cannot leave.

“I’ll cancel my days off,” he says. “Officer Davis doesn’t need to relieve me.”

“What? No, Fitz, you can’t,” she objects. “You deserve to have days that aren’t spent living in my pocket.”

“I’d never forgive myself if something happened when I wasn’t here,” he says quietly, leaving no room for argument. He will not be swayed.

Jemma, seeing the look on his face, protests no more and instead says she needs to go into the lab.

“We need to sort somewhere else for you to stay,” Fitz says. “You can’t go home.”

“I know, Fitz, but right now, I think… I think I just need to be alone for a bit,” and she gives him a watery smile before leaving. And because this is a secure building and because he needs to step back, he lets her go.

-x-

He lets her be alone and he deals with the Scotland Yard team when they arrive. They talk about changing up her schedule, alternative places for her to stay for the night while they work on getting a hotel, ways in and out of the lab that means she’ll have limited exposure to the protesters that still camp out every night in order to get a chance to hurl abuse or prod at her with theirs signs.

He tries, he honestly tries, to absorb himself in the work and pretend that this is just a problem that needs to be solved, a scenario in a test to get a perfect score in. It works, for a while. He forgets her smile and the indignant way she narrows her eyes when she thinks she’s right and just focuses on the best way to keep her safe. His brain forgets but his heart betrays him and the way it loses a beat every so often when he says her name brings her smile to the forefront of his mind.

“You’re cancelling your days off?” His boss asks him.

“Yeah, it makes sense. I’m familiar with her routines, would know if something’s off. Now’s not the time to bring in the relief guy. Besides, we have a relationship.”

“And just how would you classify your relationship with her, Officer Fitz?”

“The way the relationship is always is,” he replies, a little too sharply, a little too quickly. “I’m her protection officer.”

His superior makes a ‘hmm’ noise, notes something down on a notepad, and doesn’t say anything more about it.

There’s nothing to make a hmm noise about. He is Jemma’s protection officer, and for a brief, stupid moment he thought that they could be friends. He was wrong, misguided, misled, whatever. There’s a wall between them, there always will be, built out of Twitter comments and news headlines and cards with cut out letters sent in the post. He lost sight of the objective for a moment, but it’s okay. He’ll never forget again.

Her life depends on it.

-x-

His new resolve for his new resolution is tested not even an hour later.

Jemma has returned from the lab, still subdued but more willing to cooperate. He lists the new protocols he’s put in place; the limits on her movements, the changing of her routines she listens to, agreeing to them with a ‘yes’ or mostly just a head nod. It scares him, this complete shutdown. He puts down his list.

“Jemma? You okay?”

“Yes,” she says, nodding a little too much. “I’m fine. Go on.”

He feels himself soften. “It’s okay to admit this is bothering you, you know.”

“Is it?” She sighs. “If it bothers me then they win, Fitz. If they get to me then it’s what they want and I don’t want them to win. I really can’t let them win.”

“So we won’t let them,” he tells her, placing a hand over hers where it sits on her desk. She looks at him in surprise, the ghost of a smile touching her lips.

“We won’t let them,” she affirms.

His resolve then makes a comeback and he moves his hand away sharply, ignoring the look of confusion on Jemma’s face, the ache in his chest. Instead he clears his throat and picks up his list.

“Okay,” he says with fake nonchalance. “Now we need to find you someplace else to stay for the night while we find you a hotel and HQ have helpfully  come up with a list of suggestions. Number one: other residence?”

Jemma, it seems, has recovered quickly, too. “Oh, yes, I forgot about that house in the country that I’ve been looking for an excuse to move to,” she says drily. “Come off it, Fitz. You know I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Alright alright,” he mutters, scratching that suggestion off. “Relatives houses?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I’m not dragging this to their door.” He thinks it’s rather sweet until she adds: “I might as well hold up a big banner saying ‘failure’.”

He scores off again. “Friends?”

“I can’t ask them to take on this burden. It’s not fair.”

“They’re your friends,” he tries. “I’m sure they’d want to help.”

“Fitz,” she says, looking pointedly at his list. “The answer is no.”

They go through several more options, each one getting stranger and stranger until at last they are left with the one that HQ had deemed to be used as a last resort, break glass in case of emergency, kind of option.

“Well,” he announces, smiling but it comes across as more of a grimace. “Jemma Simmons, it looks like tonight you’re coming home with me.”

-x-

His superior doesn’t like it and he’s not the only one.

Jemma huffs and puffs, whirling like a tornado around her office, sheets of paper blowing in every direction as she shows her displeasure. He pays little attention to it. It’s mostly for show, and he knows that by the fact she hasn’t vetoed it that it’s the only option she’s willing to, however begrudgingly, live with.

Fitz remains silent at his own desk as she blusters about. It’s like the universe is permanently against him. Lines are blurring, becoming faded. One wrong step and he’ll have crossed them before he knows it. This was supposed to be a simple job, a job that he’s done tens of times before. It’s getting complicated and he doesn’t like it.

Jemma must notice his face because, sometime around three o’clock, she tells him, “You don’t have to, Fitz. I’ll go stay with my parents.”

An easy way out with an offer that couldn’t have been easy for her to make. Fitz appreciates how hard it must have been for her to make it but only for one second does he consider taking her up on it. There are numerous reasons why she shouldn’t go stay with her parents, namely being that if someone managed to find her address then what’s to stop them finding the address of Lord Simmons? But he also doesn’t want to make her unhappy and the memory of her big wet eyes from that first night still haunts his dreams.

“Actually, that option’s ruled out, now,” he says, explaining the reasons behind it. Her face still looks troubled, and whether or not it’s from the situation or the daunting prospect of coming home with him he can’t quite tell. “My flat’s not some kind of hovel, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Oh, Fitz,” she says softly, head tilting to one side. “That’s not what I was thinking about. I just didn’t want to be more of an imposition on you than I already am.”

It’s rare, in this job, to have somebody who cares about the stresses and strains they put on those people who are paid to take bullets for them. It’s rather nice. It makes him believe that at least somebody would care if he lives or dies.

“It’s my job to protect you,” he tells her simply, redrawing the lines.

He watches as his words land on her, as she sits up straighter in her desk chair and brings her keyboard forward when she’d formerly pushed it away. “Of course it is,” she says, tone perfectly polite, but perfectly empty of everything that had been before.

-x-

Hunter, it turns out, is the one who needs the most convincing.

Fitz calls him before they’re about to leave, out of courtesy but also mainly to make sure their flat is in a somewhat reasonable state and ready to receive a guest such as this.

“What the hell!” Hunter exclaims, his voice audible even when Fitz holds the phone far away from his ear. He’s glad he decided to make the call in the toilets.

“What? She just needs someplace to stay for the night while we find a good hotel or something. It’s not like you’ll be home anyway.”

“Oh, won’t I?” Hunter scoffs. “What’s that meant to mean?”

Fitz pinches the bridge of his nose – out of everyone who he’d thought was going to be bothered by this he didn’t think it would be Hunter who would cause such a fuss. “It means that you’ll be with Bobbi, because you’re always with Bobbi on a Tuesday and so you won’t be affected.”

“I’m not with Bobbi every Tuesday,” he says defensively. “And I won’t be tonight. I was thinking we could have a bro’s night, actually. Got the pizza and everything.”

Fitz sighs. “Meaning you two are fighting again.”

“We are not.”

“Oh, please, don’t even try to deny it. This is what you two always do and usually it’s fine but today it’s not, okay? Jemma needs someplace to stay and considering she’s getting actual death threats maybe the least you could do is be a good host and make sure you’re bloody washing isn’t all over the floor when she walks in and not kick up a fuss because your bloody love life falling to bits. Again!”

The line is silent. Fitz finds himself breathless and when he looks in the mirror he sees that his tie is askew, cheeks reddening. He thinks he can hear his voice reverberating off the tiles, bouncing around, unable to be forgotten.

It takes Hunter a while to reply, so long that Fitz wonders if he’s ever going to. Eventually, inevitably, he does.

“Alright, mate. Don’t you worry, this place will be spotless by the time you get home.”

Fitz exhales the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” There’s some rustling in the background. “This Jemma Simmons better realise how lucky she is to have you, that’s all I’m saying.” And then he hangs up.

-x-

All things considered the night actually goes quite well. Hunter is the perfect gentleman (as perfectly gentleman as Lance Hunter does, anyway) and actually makes Jemma laugh genuinely several times during their dinner of Meat feast pizza and beer. Fitz and Jemma don’t even argue, or not as spectacularly as they have before. In another life, Fitz thinks that they would have made a pretty good group of friends.

Hunter manages to corner him when he’s making up the couch with a blanket and a spare pillow, his bed for the night. Jemma’s in the shower, the sound of the running water echoes throughout the whole flat, and so Hunter doesn’t even lower his voice when sidles up to Fitz and says, “Jemma’s pretty great.”

“Yeah.” Fitz continues to tuck in the blanket, not even considering what he’s found out to be a fact. “She is.”

“You two seem like you’re good friends.”

“We’re not friends,” Fitz says automatically, inspecting the pillow. “I’m her protection officer. Can’t be anything else.”

His friend has always had a flair for the dramatics, and Hunter pretends to inspect his nails when he says, “Could’ve fooled me.”

“You’re seeing things that aren’t there,” Fitz says, not even properly answering, too busy wondering if his pillow is going to be enough for his neck in the night.

“Don’t think I am, mate.” Hunter makes a whistling sound. “I don’t think even I could make up the fact that you’re completely gaga for her.”

“What?!” Fitz drops the pillow onto the couch, then listens carefully in case his shout is enough to alarm Jemma. The water doesn’t turn off, but he still hisses, “No, I’m not.”

“Oh it’s okay, don’t feel embarrassed about it, Fitz. She’s completely gaga for you and all.”

His heart thumps under his shirt and he has to carefully remind himself that Hunter isn’t exactly winning awards for boyfriend of the year and therefore isn’t the best person to advise on this kind of thing. The he has to remind himself that he doesn’t care, that he can’t care, because he’s Jemma’s bodyguard and there needs to be an uncrossable line between them in order to keep her safe.

“I just work for her. Kind of,” Fitz says defensively. “I mean did you even see us? We argue all the time.”

“Yeah, and so do Bobbi and I, but even in our worst times there’s not a single moment where I doubt the fact I’d die for her.” Hunter shrugs. “It’s just like that with love sometimes.”

Love?! Fitz turns back to his bedmaking, ignoring the idiocy. There’s no love here, there can’t be. It’s been what, a week? He and Jemma bicker about everything, even when there’s no reason to - sometimes he thinks that she just enjoys winding him up. And yes, she’s pretty amazing. And yes, in those quiet, vulnerable moments he’s allowed his mind to wander far beyond the boundaries of what’s considered professional, but it doesn’t mean anything. It never could.

His dear friend is well off base with this one. As if he could ever love Jemma Simmons. As if Jemma Simmons could ever love him.

-x-

Jemma’s been given Fitz’s room and after her shower it’s where she retreats to for the rest of the night. Picking up on the hint, and with Hunter gone to grovel to Bobbi after being ‘inspired’ or something else like that, Fitz flops onto his own bed for the evening. Unable to get changed into something more comfortable, and with a headache coming on, he’s unable to get lost in the TV show he tries watching and instead he closes his eyes, lies back, and gets lost in his own head instead.

Hunter’s words have sunk in too deep and now Fitz is unable to let them go, is unsure if he wants to. The what ifs start spinning around, making him fall deeper into the dreamland. What if it was all different? What if there was no leak and it wasn’t his duty to protect her? What if they’d met in a normal way? The different lives they could have led take place in the theatre behind his closed eyelids. He doesn’t want the show to end.

“Um, Fitz?”

He jumps up, and spins around to face Jemma, face already reddening as though he’s been caught. He spins so quickly he sees bright spots and he has to hold onto the back of the couch to stop himself falling down.

“Jemma? Hi.” He coughs. “What’s up?”

“Sorry to wake you,” she begins, wringing her hands as she steps further into the room.

Fitz rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, no, no it’s alright. Wasn’t asleep yet, anyway. How’s your room? Everything okay?”

A small laugh. “It’s your room and it’s perfect, thank you. Well, apart from the messiness of your shelves…”

“I’ve not got time to sort them all, I’m too busy saving people!”

“Ah, yes,” she smiles. “Quite the action man.” But then her smile disappears. “Your room is actually what I wanted to talk about.”

Oh. A thousand things flash through his head. Did he leave food in there that’s now multiplied into something horrific? Has the ironing pile that he hastily shoved in the wardrobe exploded out of it? He feels like when he was a child and his mum had went ‘I want to talk to you’ in her most stern voice.

“Oh, yeah, um, what about it?”

She steps forward. “I wanted to say thank you, for letting me stay tonight.”

Relief floods through his veins, but it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “Of course. It’s my-”

“Job, yes, I know.” A strange, closed look passes over her face, gone as quickly as it came. “But still, letting me into your home is a big ask even if it may be your job, and it deserves a thank you.”

“Of course,” he says, making a choice to forget the lines he has drawn in his head. “Always.”

She nods her head and goes to turn away but something impulsive within him makes him say, Jemma?”

She turns around with a raised eyebrow. “Yes?”

But the moment of strength has deserted him as have the half-planned words he was going to say. Instead he flounders for a moment before shaking his head. “Um, it’s nothing. Sorry. Goodnight.”

Even so she smiles, but this time it’s warm and reaches her eyes and he can’t quite look away from the spot even as she bids him goodnight and leaves.

He flops down on the couch, cradling his head in his hands, frustrated with Hunter for getting into his head, the lines that he wishes to erase, and his own bloody cowardice.

[ilosttrackofthings]

biospecialist + 4!

Listen, I’m gonna be honest here, I do not remember what meme this ask was for. But probably this anon doesn’t either so we’re just gonna say that somewhere, something that happens in this drabble fills that prompt, whatever it was. I think we can all live with that.

Phil’s been calledsofthearted in more than one review, but he’s never been calledemotional. He’s good at keeping his feelings in check—probablythose same analysts would say it’s got something to do with losinghis father young and having to step up to help his mom keep thingstogether—so it’s telling that right now he’s too damn pissed tobe impressed with Gonzales and his people and their neat infiltrationof his ranks.

“-secretmeetings,” Gonzales is saying, listing off his (verysarcastic finger quotes) crimes as if they’re not goddamnspies, “allowed ahigh-ranking Hydra asset to escape—we thought that was just yourown attachment to the boy-”

There’s that softheart again. And it’s not even a lie. Phil certainly didn’t allowGrant to escape anything but his refusal to let him be tortured, thatwas a weakness and he knew it.

“-butthat’s just part of this whole persona you’ve got going, isn’tit? It’s not real.”

BeforePhil can figure what that’ssupposed to mean, Weaver shifts from her stiff lean against one ofthe filing cabinets to ask, “What was Simmons supposed to begetting out of him?” Anger and bitterness practically radiate offher.

Thequestion blindsides him – mostly because he doesn’t know whatshe’s talking about. “Out of who? Bakshi?”

Notthat he’ll admit it to these two, but Simmons was never supposed toget close to Bakshi at all.Phil was glad when she was just a low level nobody in Hydra. She’ssmart enough even that limited access was plenty to theorize aboutthe true nature of the projects she was working on and it left her ahell of a lot safer than she was once Bakshi took notice of her.

Hecan’t believe he was actually glad at the time he’d had theforethought to send Bobbi in to cover her back – not that he isn’tglad there was someonethere to get her out safely, but now it seems like he got her out of thefrying pan of imminent torture and into the fire of another betrayalby a close friend. Nice going there, Phil.

“No,”Weaver says. She’s disgusted. Angry- no, furious.Even with her knuckles white around her own elbows, her hands areshaking like she wants to throw the nearest desk lamp at him. Seeingas there is a desk lamp in easy reach, Phil makes a point of shiftinghis stance so he’ll be better able to dodge if it comes to it.“Ward.”

Ittakes Phil a few seconds to get what she’s saying and a few secondsmore to figure out how to respond. “I never sent Simmons down totalk to Ward,” he says. First because he’d never do that to her (unless he absolutely had no other choice) and second because it wouldn’t have done a damn bit of good. “He’d only talk to Skye-”

“Whichis why you orchestrated his escape,” Gonzales says. He’s notangry like Weaver. He’s not happyeither, but he just might be impressed by the move. Phil doesn’tlike the man nearly enough to wish it was a move he’d actuallymade. “Give him his freedom, send Simmons in, let her get himtalking.”

SHIELDhas no evidence of psychics, but it’s got plenty of agents whoexperience a near thing. Everyone who does this job for any stretchof time gets a sixth sense for when the boot’s about to drop. And Philcan sense that heavy sole hovering somewhere over his head right now.

“Simmonshasn’t spoken to Ward since he left this base,” he says. Stiff,steady, like if he really means the words it’ll make them true.

Gonzalessees it. Phil hates to show him weakness but he needs to know whatthe hell he knows about his people that Phil doesn’t.

Slowly,Gonzales pulls a phone from his coat pocket. It’s one of those big,gaudy things that’s practically a tablet. A few clicks and he turnsit in Phil’s direction, inviting him to see a series of photos heinstantly wishes he could scrub from his memory.

Simmonsgetting off a bus. Looking over her shoulder as she crosses a dingymotel parking lot. Knocking on a door at the far edge of thebuilding. Smiling one of her big, heartfelt smiles—the kind Phil hasn’t seen in months—at Ward on the other side of the door. Kissing him beforethe door closes.

“Youdidn’t know,” Weaver says, telling Phil he’s been so caught upin the photos he let his emotions slip. Not good.

“Howmany times?” Phil asks Gonzales while he struggles to pull it together.

“Fourthat we documented.”

Fourtimes. At least.

Why?

That’snot too hard to figure. Simmons spent months in love with Ward andPhil knows for a fact she spent months checking in on him in Vault D.Hell, he wouldn’t be alive right now if she hadn’t seen himsitting in a pool of his own blood.

Phil had thought—hoped—that she got over it. Her schoolgirl crush turnedto hatred of the man who hurt her friends.

Thenthere’s the option that she did get over it. She spent monthsinside Hydra and got within two degrees of separation of a man with areputation for brainwashing people into his service. It could bethese actions aren’t Simmons’ choice at all.

Butall of that’s just theory and conjecture and he won’t find hisanswers here, among people who thought he sent Simmons out toprostitute herself to Ward for intel. God.What the hell is wrong with them?

“Fourtimes,” he repeats. Calm, detached, unaffected. And just a littleconfused. “And you didn’t think to capture the escaped felon?”

BeforeGonzales can respond to that, an ICER round knocks him out and soonafter, May is shoving Phil into one of the office’s three secretescape routes. (He chooses not to tell her about Simmons – mostlybecause he doesn’t wanna be in the same room as her when she findsout; let Gonzales risk his own life.)

.

.

Twodays later, in a kitschy little restaurant south of the border, Philbrokers a temporary peace between SHIELD and Ward. No one’s happyabout it or about Phil’s admonition to his people that they can’t,no matter how much they want to or how good it might feel, physically harm Ward in retaliation for any of the thingshe’s done to them.

Oncehe has their grudging agreement, he turns on his heel and delivers aright hook that sends Ward stumbling into the nearest table.

Whenthe stars clear sufficiently from Ward’s eyes that he can put on an(undeniably fake) wounded look, Phil asks, “Motel 6? You couldn’thave gone somewhere classier?”

Thatwounded look evaporates, replaced by cruel cunning that chills Phil’sgut. He once trusted his man with his life, with other people’slives. How could he have been so blind to the real him?

“Icould’ve gone pay-by-the-hour,” Ward says, as if that’s adefense.

Philchooses not to respond – to Ward or to the others’ questions. Ifhe did, there’s no chance on this or any planet that Ward wouldsurvive long enough to be of any use to them.

[sadbi-hours]

Made for @aosrecweek​ for Throwback Thursday

Oh, wow! Guys…it was like y’all read my mind! I’ve been wanting to make an AoS rec list for a bit now, but I just never had the self-motivation to put myself into gear and do it!

Well, I have now…and I really enjoyed putting this list together! I actually hunted across the internet for some of these fanfic recs, because while my tastes were different back in the day, I still love a good fanfic…and I think that still counts for something. 

Plus, I wasn’t really into saving stories that I really liked back in the day. So fair warning, I haven’t read some of these stories in a really long time and my mini reviews might be a bit off, but I still believe that a good fanfic will stick with ya through the ages. 

I hope you found these fanfics to be just as good as I do and I hope you’ll enjoy reading them too:)

P.S. I still plan to make a whole rec list of other stories I like too…with Ot3+, brotps, and all the het and slash fics that your heart desires! 

i had a secret meeting in the basement of my brain by owlvsdove

It takes Skye two seconds to realize they are seducing her, and another second to realize it is seriously working.

(In which Skye, to her absolute horror, falls in love with the science babies.)

Pairing: FSK/ Fitzskimmons

Why you should read it?: 

This story is very personal to me! Because, not only was it the first fanfic for the AoS fandom that I’d ever read..but it also introduced me to the world of ot3′s and the possibility that a poly relationship could actually work not only in fiction but in the real world too. That’s how real this relationship was for me…that’s how beautifully written it was… how completely true to how I’d believe that Fitz, Daisy (or Skye at the time of the story), and Jemma might have started their relationship back in the day, if you know, mainstream network had had the balls to explore that route.

I adore this fic! It still holds a special place for me. I do wish that the author had kept the FF.net version of the story up. There were a few things I loved that had existed in that version that are deleted out in the only existing  one…but that’s just a minor pet peeve of mine. I would still recommend this story if you love fluffy and sexy ot3 action with some minor angst, because Daisy always has to make things complicated for herself!   

Like A Stain Series by AgentSkyeMorse

Skye’s words appeared when she was 17. Trip’s words appeared when he decided to join S.H.I.E.L.D. Hunters heart is broken when finds his Soulmate. Bobbi doesn’t believe in Soulmates… That’s what she tells herself.

Pairing: Bobbi Morse/ Daisy Johnson/ Lance Hunter (aka I don’t know their ship name), and some past Daisy/Triplet 

Why you should read?:.

I don’t really remember much about this series, other than it’s a Canon-divergent post-2 and Soulmate AU. 

I do however remember it being really freaking good! I loved how the characters were not completely OCC like some AU ‘verse’s can make their main characters be. I believed that all these could have really happened if some of Canon’s events had happened differently…and there was such a things as Soulmate universes. 

There are some minor changes made to AoS’s canon, but that’s to be expected. However, I really liked how the writer still made me believe in Bobbi, Lance, and Daisy’s chemistry really well. And it had some really freaking hot sex scenes too, if I remember correctly. 

Mascot by Philote 

In which Skye adopts an orphaned dog, much to the varying delight and chagrin of her teammates.

Pairing: Gen/ No expressed Ships I believe

Why you should read?: 

It’s just a really cute story about the team’s varying reactions to Skye sneaking a little puppy on board the bus. It’s just pure s1 team fluff, and it actually has weary but protective Ward that I think is adorable…before you know, Ward became the evil asshole that he is. 

If you just want team fluff with very little angst, than this is the story for you! 

the heart is hard to translate (all my stumbling phrases never amounted to anything worth this feeling) by awkwardspiritanimals

Leopold Fitz is going to do whatever it takes to keep them safe. Even if it means turning their household items into deadly weapons.

The other three just want him to get some sleep.

(tripfitzskimmons polyamory)

Pairing: Tripfitzskimmons 

Why you should read?:

A post season 1 Ot4, where Fitz feels helpless because of his brain injury and tries to help in the only way he knows how and still can…by making everyday objects into deadly weapons…

Trip, Jemma, and Daisy try to be understanding, but would like it very much if Fitz would stopped turning their possessions into weapons. 

It’s very sweet little ficlet, but does have some Fitz angst. So beware of that.  

love letters to a ghost by arsonistlullabye 

Skye is haunted the ghost of a boy who wasn’t strong enough. Fitz is haunted by a girl who makes him want to be stronger.

Pairing: Fitzdaisy/ Fitzskye

Why you should read?: 

This story is set in an alternate AoS ‘verse, where Fitz couldn’t handle the pressure and loneliness of being one of the youngest to attend S.H.I.E.L.D. academy…and trigger warning, kills himself and begins to haunt the Academy as a ghost.  

Years later, Skye attends and seeing her go down the same path as him, does everything he can to help her become her best self..while also slowly falling in love with her. I don’t want to spoiler anymore, but it’s a really good…but i’ll be honest and say that depending on how you view it, it might not have the happiest ending, but I believe it fit perfectly with the story.   

Take me away to some place real by Florchis 

After the Framework, Fitz decides to go see his mother for a few days and takes Jemma and a reluctant Daisy with him. Things are not easy, but helped by three late-night conversations, Daisy learns that they can choose to not make them hard.

Pairing: FSK/ Fitzskimmons

Why you should read?:

I feel like I’m cheating a bit by rec-ing this fic, since it’s a prompt of mine gifted to me through a @aosficnet2 exchange a few years back, but where Florchis decided to take the idea far exceeded my expectations. This story…left me speechless.It made me cry. It was…just so beautiful and hopeful… yet bittersweet. 

Nothing’s sugar coated…or wrapped up neatly in a little box in this story. They’re all broken by what they experienced in the Framework. Daisy’s left with old and new insecurities to wade through, Fitz can’t always tell the difference between Reality and the Framework, and Jemma’s just trying to hold everybody and herself together…and a trip to see Fitz’s amazing Mom doesn’t automatically fix everything.

But it makes their traumas more manageable…It makes them want to try to be better, not only in their relationship but as people as well. Oh, man! You have to read this story…especially if you were left broken yourself by season 4. Seriously, go read this! 

I couldn’t in good conscious rec one of Florchis’s post-framework stories without rec-ing one of @theclaravoyant. You can go read it here if you like!  

six birthdays skye had by zauberer_sirin

Birthdays are the worst. And hers are not even real.

Pairing:  Skoulson

Why you should read?:

Alright! Hear me out! I, myself , as in me now, in no way ships Coulson and Daisy in a romantic relationship, but when I first started out reading AoS fanfics, I was experimenting…trying to figure out my tastes and what I shipped and liked romantically. 

And I can admit that I’ve read other Skoulson fics in my time, but this fanfic is the only one that I’ll willing recommended…because the romantic aspect of Skoulson’s relationship was left ambiguous, at least to me. It was more of a character study of how Skye has always views and copes with her birthdays through the years and the one time, she actually liked being born…and even though, I hate it, her relationship with Coulson has a lot to do with her acceptance of it. 

But I wouldn’t blame anybody for skipping over this one, I haven’t read it since I read it the first time just because I would have to stomach the romantic Skoulson in it…but I feel like it’s still worth recommending. It’s a pretty good Skye/Daisy character piece.   

Along the Way by theclaravoyant

When Shield’s two youngest prodigies shake hands for the very first time, their expressions are exactly as you might expect for two people who know they’ve just met their soul mates. But for this particular pair there’s something else as well.

Confusion.

-

Sometimes finding your soulmate(s) is not as simple as it seems. Then again, sometimes what we spend most of our time looking for, has been right under our noses all along.

Pairing: FSK/ Fitzskimmons

Why you should read?:

A FSK Soulmate AU that went a long way to redefining my outlook on the trope. Fitz and Simmons’ quest to discover who their other soulmate is and what the weird soul mark they have means is really well done and completely in character with how Fitzsimmons are as individuals and as a unit… 

It’s just a very well written AU that’s I’d recommended anytime of the day. You should read it.   

and when we burst, begin again by  owlvsdove

May gets hurt in the line of duty. Jemma tries to fill her shoes.

Pairing: FSK/ Fitzskimmons

Why you should read?:

If you haven’t noticed by now, there is a pretty consistent theme to my fanfic recs…and that’s the hurt/comfort or heavy angst trope and this one fits that bill to a tee.

Set in a post season 1 Canon-Divergence world I believe, where I think Ward really injures May and Jemma take it upon herself to become the team’s glue…and how it slowly chips away at her emotional sanity. It’s really well written and I think you guys will like it…if you don’t mind the heavy angst too. 

break my heart into pieces on the floor by hpfreakster

Months earlier she had stood there ready to give her life for them, now she stands there pointing a gun at Skye and Fitz.

Pairing:  BioSpecialist with a side order of Fitzskye

Why you should read?: 

An alternate end to season 1, a role reversal with Jemma being the Hydra agent who betrayed the team, A flawed but ultimately goodhearted Ward, and a possibly triple agent Simmons…? What more could you ask for in a fascinating, alternate plot twist and development? 

I know some can’t even read about Ward as a main character in any fashion, but I really loved this fic…how it was done…how Ward was portrayed. He wasn’t perfect…or really even likable…but he loved his team and would do anything for them, even haunting down the woman he loves to avenge Fitz and Skye. 

I think that’s a really cool story;)  

He’s Not A Monkey by  AgentMaryMargaretSkitz

“He’s Leo. Fitz. The dog is Fitz.”

When an 084 explodes, Skye sees that Fitz has turned into a puppy. Some Biospecialist and pre-Skitz.

Pairing:  Another Biospecialist with some minor Fitzskye

Why you should read?:

Wow! Another fluffy dog story rec! I really need to find my AoS fluff in other tropes! LOL! 

But who can resist Fitz being turned into a adorable freaking puppy…who adores Skye and Jemma…and keeps biting Ward in various places I think! I couldn’t! Haha! 

stretch your arms around me by  Conifer

With them, Skye learned to love.

She learned how to give it just as much as she learned to feel it. It was abstract and solid and all-consuming, a mess that left her feeling dizzy and weightless. It was impossible to put a finger on but easy enough to place; she knew the heart-pounding feeling when she had it.

Pairing: FSK/ Fitzskimmons

Why you should read?: 

A kind of a sad Fitzskimmon fic, where Skye knows that her relationship with Fitzsimmons will come to an end someday…because well, according to Skye, it has to. In her life, happiness never lasts for long…but she’s going learn from and enjoy her time together with them for as long as it lasts. 

It’s a bittersweet, but heartwarming fic that fits right in my alley. Go ahead and read it…but be prepared to have your heart broken.  

The zeroh law of thermodynamics by  Florchis

Fitz and Simmons are each other’s soulmates. Daisy isn’t. Fitz and Simmons don’t care. Daisy does. Sort of. Or: Jemma wants them to tell her their fantasies, Daisy wants a tattoo and Fitz wants to be a gentleman. (They all succeed.)

Pairing: FSK/ Fitzskimmons

Why you should read?: 

I couldn’t rec @theclaravoyant‘s Soulmate AU without recommending @florchis!

This story showed me that love comes in many forms and variations…and just because Daisy isn’t Fitzsimmons’ soulmate doesn’t stop them from pursuing a meaningful romantic triad with her. Of course, like any real relationship, there are trail and errors…misunderstanding and miscommunications…but they never let that keep them down because they love each other and will do anything to make their unconventional (in every sense of the word) relationship work. 

It’s a really good Soulmate AU story. You should read it…along with @florchis‘s FSK stories here and here. I just love the different and interesting ways she makes the FSK ship play out and begin. 

Apples and Dandelions by  theclaravoyant

After Fitz’ father sends a number of threatening messages and an ultimatum to Shield, Fitz decides it’s time to confront his father. As it turns out, the apple can fall as far from the tree as it likes, especially when there’s someone there to catch it.

Pairing: Fitzsimmons with Fitz & Daisy brotp 

Why you should read?: 

I know that I didn’t really rec manyGen or brotp stories on this list…and I’ll be fair with y’all, but I really do view the majority of my bromance’s in Television and Films as romantic relationships too..and most of the time, I’d rather read shipper fics than purely brotp ones. 

But this fic was so good that I could not share it on my list…but I won’t bore you with the details. It’s a theclaravoyant fic and I think that they’re all amazing.  

[wingardium-letmefuckyou]

Agate (part 11)

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: When you were kidnapped and experimented on you never thought you would see the daylight again. But your family refuses to give you up. When you later find yourself safe but with unstable powers, you find comfort in someone not so unlike you. He refuses to give up on you either.

Word count: 1088

Warnings: none

A/N: Finally, after many months, I have found the courage, energy and inspiration to write again. This might be a short chapter but it’s a big step for me. As most of you know, I went through (and am still going through) a very rough period in my life. I went to a period of mourning and dealing with PTSD, I still am. But the sun shines again and life ain’t all bad. So, even if no one is still interested in reading this, I still want to finish this story, cause it is something I have to do, for myself. Thank you to everyone to stick around. Hugs and lots of love. PS: some of the tags don’t exist anymore, let me know when you have changed your username and you want to be tagged again. Or if you’re not on the taglist yet and you want to be.

Masterlist

Metaphysically, Agate has a lower intensity and vibrates to a slower frequency than other stones, but is highly regarded as a stabilizing and  strengthening influence. [Simmons, 6] The layered bands of microscopic quartz in Agate may appear delicate, they are actually very strong. Agate is excellent for balancing emotional, physical and intellectual energy, and in harmonizing the positive and negative forces of the universe.   [Hall, 39]

Agate promotes inner stability, composure, and maturity. Its warm, protective properties encourage security and  self-confidence  

(Source: https://www.crystalvaults.com/crystal-encyclopedia/agate)

A soft knock on the door wakes you up from your peaceful slumber. You try to ignore it, too comfortable and sleepy to get away from your safe haven but the person on the other side seems quite persistent. You gently shove Bucky’s arm aside so you can climb out of bed to open the door, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. You don’t want the mysterious knocker to wake up Bucky. He is still sound asleep, his breathing soft and relaxed. It surprises you to see Wanda, you had been expecting Shuri or maybe Steve. Her eyes are cast down, almost as if she’s too shy to look straight at you. While you may look like you just got out of bed, she looks like she never got into hers.

“Y/N, can we talk for a moment?”

For a split second you consider to slam the door in her face. After what she did to you yesterday, it’s hard to look at her with sympathy. If it hadn’t been for Shuri and Bucky you’d probably be hiding somewhere now, still shaken up by what she planted in your brain. But instead of sending her away,you sigh deeply and you nod, whatever she has to say might be worth hearing. An explanation of some sorts might be nice. “Let me get a sweater first,” you say and you disappear in your closet. You want to grasp the warmth that has settled in your body for a while longer. Your hand grabs for the oversized, black hoodie. The one that smells unmistakable like Bucky. It’s just because it comfortable, you tell yourself, no other reason. You are definitely not ignoring all the other stylish sweaters Shuri provided for you.

Wanda and you walk in silence, heading for the kitchen. A cup of coffee can only improve the conversation to come. Besides, you need to give your brain that last little nudge it needs to wake up and start functioning properly. The other woman seems nervous, fiddling with a strand of her long hair. She doesn’t start talking while you brew a cup of your favourite drink, leaving an awkward silence hanging between the both of you. You sigh again, turning around to face her, cradling the steaming mug between your hands.

“Spill the beans, Wanda.” you urge, your patience wearing thin. You could still be in bed, wrapped around an incredibly warm and huggable super soldier. No cup of coffee could ever replace that, so she’d better start talking soon.

“I want to apologize. I did not mean to make you see what you did. All I wanted was to give your brain a nudge, but something went wrong” Her voice is soft, careful. If you didn’t know better you might think she sounds afraid of you. As if you would ever harm anyone on purpose, let alone that you knew how. There had never been much violence inside of you, your sister always being to one to beat up bullies or shout at rude people for you.

“But I did see it, even if you didn’t mean it. You were inside my brain, you showed me horrible things. Can you explain how that happened?” You’re not planning on letting her getting away that easily. Did she really expect that she could manipulate your mind like that and get away with a simple apology? One side of you wants to let it go but the other is still too shaken up. “I… I lost control.” It is difficult for her to admit it, she hasn’t lost control in a long time. Her powers are her own, part of her and they obey to her will. Yet yesterday, they didn’t, for the first time in a very long time. It makes her feel weak and small, scared even.

“You lost control…” The statement sounds ridiculous to you, Wanda was supposed to be your teacher, the one to learn you how to be IN control. She was a heroine, the Scarlet Witch.  “Listen, Wanda. I get that you hate me, for some reason I haven’t figured out yet. But just go home then, instead of traumatizing me. You don’t have to teach me.” Wanda’s head snaps up and for the first time she doesn’t look nervous. She looks insulted. “I don’t hate you.” “Then, what…?” You thought of the cold looks she gave you, the way she ignored you. Did you interpret all of it wrong? “I thought you hated me,” Wanda explains “That is how I lost control, I was so nervous. I wanted to reach out for you with my powers. And then everything went wrong.”

You are completely baffled by her statement, opening and closing your mouth. Words ain’t coming, so you figure you must look like some retarded fish. Apparently you did interpret her behavior wrongly. You remember her telling you that her powers are fueled by emotions. So if she really was nervous… But it makes no sense. “Wh-why would I hate you?” you finally manage to ask. You barely knew her, you’d never hate anyone you hadn’t had the chance to get to know. “Y/N,” Wanda’s voice is gentle, guilt is written all over her face, “The serum. Your unstable powers. It’s all me, it’s my blood they used. Surely, you must resent me for that? My existence helped them make you into what you are.”

Wanda is surprised when you start laughing, the guilty look on her face fading away into confusion. You finally see how you had misunderstood one another. It’s ridiculous now that you can see it all clearly. “Wanda, unless you were the one that injected me, there’s no way I could hate you for this. I don’t blame you at all.” You smile at her, a genuine and warm smile. Somehow, your heart has decided that she is forgiven. Life is too short to hold grudges.

When Bucky enters the room he is welcomed by a sight he did expected to see. You and Wanda, preparing breakfast side by side, chattering amicably. He is secretly pleased to see you in his sweater, though he wouldn’t admit that to anyone. What confuses him most is Wanda’s presence and the way the two of you seem comfortable around each other. The look he sends you is full of questions, your answer just a shrug. There is enough time to explain after breakfast. Right now, you just want to enjoy your eggs and bacon, accompanied by two friends.

Taglist: @lavieenlex @babymorganna @fandomtime-123  @blueswedebeatbox @shamelessbookaddict @libbymouse @eyesofgoldenambers @moni-poloni @super-witty-fandom-girl @lkcarts @micolegg @in-the-potterhead-know @thegirlwiththepurpleguitar

[freddie-roger-brian-john]

Surprises (Ben x Roger x Reader) - part three and a half

I couldn’t fit it all into one post so here’s the first half if you haven read it.

-

"Tell that to the clothes that refuse you fit me," you huffed, your eyes quickly glancing towards the wardrobe. "I feel like I can't wear anything anymore."

"Well, I completely encourage you not wearing anything anymore," Ben told you, "but I simply can't allow this."

"Allow what?"

"This!" He said pointing at your face. "This frown. The feeling that you aren't beautiful anymore." Again, you rolled your eyes at him.

"Alright, Ben."

"I'm serious," he told you, cupping your face in his hands. "You look just as gorgeous as the day I met you. More gorgeous than at any red carpet or award show. You're beautiful, this belly is beautiful, and our babies are gonna be so beautiful-"

"Oh just shut up and kiss me." You pulled him forward by the hem of his shirt and his lips crashed into yours. You could feel him grinning as the kiss confirmed you were at least beginning to believe his words.

He deepened the kiss and began to work his hands into your hair. He could've stayed there, snogging you for the rest of time. He even might have, had it not been for the sudden pain in your tummy.

He pulled back as you winced, your hand going straight to your belly. "What's wrong?" He asked as he saw the worry and confusion on your face.

"I don't know," you said, your hand on his chest. "Something feels... not good." He looked at you with nothing but concern as your face screwed up to cope with the odd pain you were feeling.

"Do you think it's serious?" He asked you, his brows furrowing with worry. You had to wait a moment to answer as the pain swelled.

"I don't know," you admitted through gritted teeth. "I..." But the pain was beginning to fade. You took deep breath, each exhale less shaky than the one before. "It's going away," you told him. His head fell as he sighed with relief.

"That's good," he said, his face softening. "You has me worrying the babies were coming now." You chuckled at him.

"I'm still a month away from my due date," you reminded him. "They're not coming for a little while." He nodded, grinning at himself, before leaning in to kiss you again.

"Do you want anything?" He asked you, climbing out of bed and jabbing his thumb in the direction of the door, indicating he was heading to the kitchen.

"Just some water," you told him.

"Your wish is my command," he said, quickly pressing a kiss to your forehead before hurrying out the room.

In the silence, your eyes fell on the area of mattress that Roger usually occupied. You missed him. He had only been gone a few hours. Freddie had invited the three of you to dinner with the other band mates but you hadn't felt up to going. You didn't want to see their dates all dressed up while you wore maternity clothes. So, not wanting to refuse his invitation, Ben agreed to stay home with you (much to your protest) while Roger went to dinner by himself.

He would be back in an hour or so, but you still missed having both your boys.

You began to wonder what was taking Ben so long. You question was answered when you smelled toast. Shit, now you wanted toast.

"Ben?" You called out, not wanting to get out of bed.

"Yeah?" His voice called back from the kitchen.

"Can you make me some toast?" You asked. Faintly, you heard him chuckle to himself.

"Of course, sweetheart," he answered. "I'll be there in two minutes." You nodded, despite Ben not being able to see you, and leaned your back further against your pillow. You were learning how to enjoy your quiet, relaxing nights in.

Suddenly, your relaxing night became not so relaxing. The pain from before returned. You winced, breathing harshly through your gritted teeth. Your mind remembered what Ben had said about the babies coming early. These couldn't be contractions, could they?

"Ben?" You called out, your voice shaking with panic.

"I know, baby," he said, "Lots of butter, just how you like it."

"No, Ben," you said more urgently. "It feels bad again. Something really hurts." You heard hurried footsteps before Ben burst back into the room.

"You're feeling pain in your tummy?" He asked. You nodded. "Pain in your tummy, lasting about thirty seconds with two minute gaps in between?" Again you nodded, understanding that he too was suspecting contractions. He stared at you for a moment before nodding to himself. "Yeah, ok, come on. We're going to the hospital."

To his surprise, you shook your head.

"Baby, you're having contractions, we need to go to the hospital," he told you, leaning close to where you sat in bed.

"Ben, I not ready," you said. "I can't have these babies now."

"I don't think you have a say in the matter," he said, cupping your face in his hands. "You're ready, I know you are."

"Seriously Ben, I can't do this," you pressed, your hands gripping his wrists. "You never watched the birthing video. I can't do it."

"You can," he said, earnestly. "I promise. Once we get in the car, we can phone Roger and he'll meet us at the hospital."

"Oh," you said suddenly. "It's gone again. I feel fine-"

"Yeah, that's cause you're having contractions," he told you, beginning to get a little frustrated. "You can have these babies in this bed or at the hospital but either way, you're having these babies. Now." You screwed your eyes shut. He was right, of course.

"Fine," you said through gritted teeth. Ben helped you out of bed and guided you to the car. By the time you had your seatbelt on, the pain had returned.

"It gonna be ok, baby," he told you, giving your thigh a quick squeeze. "Here." He passed you his phone, keeping his eyes on the road. "Call Roger, tell him to meet us at the hospital." You searched for Roger's name in the contacts app as the pain continued. Your thumb hovered over the call button until it passed.

"Hello?" Roger had picked up quickly. He had been worried about the babies coming early since month six and as a result, he kept him phone close to him all times.

"Rog, it's Y/N," you told him. "Me and Ben need you to meet us at the hospital."

"What? Why?"

"We think they're coming now," you explained. "I might be having contractions."

"No," said Ben, taking the phone from you and putting it on speaker phone. "She is having contractions. No 'mights' about it."

"Shit," Roger muttered. "Ok, I'll get there as soon as I can. See you in a bit."

"See you," said Ben.

"I love you," He said to both of you.

"Love you too," you and Ben said in unison before Roger hung up.

-

"They're called Braxton Hicks contractions," Doctor Simmons explained to you and Ben once you had arrived at the hospital. "Also known as practice contractions or false labour."

"So the babies aren't coming now?" Ben asked, sitting on the edge of your bed and wrapping an arm around you.

"Not yet," Doctor Simmons confirmed with a small smile at the look of pure relief on your faces.

"Oh thank god," you muttered.

"We need to call Rog," Ben said to you. "Tell him everything's ok." You nodded and watched him dig around in his pocket for his phone. He was about to press the call button when the door was wretched open.

"I'm here, I'm here," said a breathless Roger.

"False alarm, love," Ben told him. Roger's head fell into his hands and he sighed loudly. Clearly very relieved, he made his way over to the two of you and gave you your favourite bar of chocolate.

"You think I'm giving birth and you decide to stop and buy food?" You asked, a teasing smile playing at your lips.

"Well I knew you'd be freaking out," he told you, pressing a quick peck to your lips before doing the same with Ben.

"Freaking out?" You demanded, an eyebrow raised, almost challenging Roger. You were surprised when Ben tried to disguise a snort. "I have not been that bad."

"Love, you're worse than Rog," he told you. Shifting slightly, you look at him with the utmost offence. He pressed a kiss to your temple. "But it's ok cause we love you."

"Oh fuck off," you told the two of them. You were trying not to smile as well. It was true, you had freaked out a number of times. You'd have crashed and burned a long time ago had it not been for Ben and Roger. "Just wait until this actually happens," you said, pointing at your belly. "The two of you will be crying and freaking out and I'll be the one calming yous down."

"Sure," said Roger, glancing at Ben. The two of them shared a smirk, clearly not believing you in the slightest.

"It's alright, darling," Ben told you, still looking at Roger. "It's ok to be scared. It's probably even a good thing. As long as you've got you're boys, you're gonna be absolutely fine."

[calliecat93]

RvB17 Episode 2 Review: Everwhen

Do you ever hear about how some say that some characters just cannot work as the main? Like ‘this character is too ridiculous’, or ‘this one is too dark and brooding to like’. Or, as I hear it, being lazy. Yeah, that's what that excuse is: laziness. Any character CAN work if you put time and effort into making it work. Like when Kishimoto admitted that Sakura was not suited to be the lead female in Naruto, all I hear is “I didn't want to put in the effort in making this character good so I didn’t, my bad!”. It's a stupid, stupid excuse. But that being said, there are certainly some characters that are hard to envision as the central focus. Like IDK how many people would take RWBY seriously if Zwei was the main character... actually I'd watch it.

Despite RvB being... RvB, it's not immune to this. It's probably easier to but say... Carolina as a lead over someone like Jax, for example. So having Donut as the main character in this season... is likely going to tilt some heads. Donut? The innuendo spouting, eternally optimistic character that no one listens to and is missing every other season? That character, of all characters, is going to be our main character this season? How is THAT going to work? Well... how about we find out?

Overview

We begin in what I guess we can now officially call the Everwhen. Donut's still falling through, but it doesn't take long for him to figure out how it works. He can recall different memories, and he'll be shown them. He tests this for a few seconds before deciding to focus to actually get into a specific point in time. The point in time he ends up at? The tail-end of Season 7. Where, if you recall, Wash shot him... yeah... worst? He repeats this about three times. Sheesh. Ugh... at least he knows that Simmons was concerned now? Right?

Okay, anyways, Donut's finally able to get out of the memory and into a new one, though the pain still persists for a bit. He ends up back in S15... I want to say Episode 9. Been a while since I rewatched (the ONE SEASON I fella sleep through during that 30-hour livestream last week),  but I think it was Doc's re-intro form the setup. Oh and Doc is in this episode, whoo. Anyways, once he's got himself collected, Donut tires to tell Tucker and Simmons to round up the others... except Tucker refuses. Why? Because he assumes that it's just going to be a tirade of innuendos, and he's not in the mood for it. Donut is confused as he tries to explain that they're reaching an explosive climax... which only makes them less willing to listen. Fed up, Donut leaves for another memory, leaving his past self acting like nothing happened.

We now go back to S10 where Grif reveals that he still has The Meta's Bruteshot... err, Grifshot. First, Microsoft let him have it back. Second, Donut again tries to get the others to listen. Yeah, three guesses son how well that goes. They end up more concerned about Sarge forgetting his speech, Wash trying to encourage him to remember it. Tbf it IS an epic speech that I too would like to hear again. Naturally, Donut is peeved that not only is he bring ignored, but he's being ignored over the guy who... you know, shot him. So he leaves again, this time going back even further... kinda.

We now end up in S3 during that whole 'we got blasted into the future' mess that I'm not going to even try to recall. It's during the play that Donut wrote to explain to Tucker about their circumstances. Donut lays everything out about everything. About being from the future, about technically being made by Chrovos, about Chrovos' current status, and how they're all stuck without being able to recall anything. Naturally, no one is listening, Simmons, in particular, being too annoyed that Donut took his role. Well... actually one person DOES believe it: Grif. Yeah, he says that it sounds familiar somehow and that crazy shit has happened to them before. You know, like being blasted into the future. Now Grif DOES get sidetracked seconds later by Sarge reminding him about who he's listening to, but at least SOMEONE listened.

But yeah, as I said Sarge calls bull and everyone continues to not believe it. Sarge even outright tells Donut to shut up forever repeatedly, no matter how much the poor guy begs him to hear him out. As a result, Donut gives up and returns to Chrovos' domain. In contrast to Donut being a mix of disappointed and annoyed, Chrovos is cheery and happy. Why? Well, their prison is cracking more and more, but after being locked up for an eon, having anything happen is enlightening to them. They also point out what they continued to point out to Donut last season: the guys have never listened to him, and are never going to listen to him. They even tell him to go ahead and stop as they don't like seeing him suffer like this. Still talking like Donut is their 'child' and in that nurturing father... err, motherly type of way.

Donut, not being that kind of stupid, refuses to buy into this again and is still determined to try and prevent Chrovos from destroying everything. Chrovos protests that it'll be painless, and at this point, they might as well since the paradox has caused pure chaos... backward. Yeah, backward. Donut picks up on this, asking about what happened after the paradox. Chrovos tries to pull back, saying that there's just two timelines: one where Wash was shot and one where he wasn't. But Donut points out something: that there's a third. A place out of time, like they themselves are. And aside from him, who else from the Reds and Blues weren't caught in the paradox? Wash.

With this little revelation, Donut gets the discarded time gun and leaves. Chrovos, due to the barrier, can do nothing to stop him. Donut arrives at a canyon on Chorus, assuming that it is where Wash would go. Wash isn't there, which means that our wide-eyed hero is going to have to go through the entire planet in hopes of finding him. Let's just hope that he won't bring up the repeated shootings when he finds him, haha...

Review

Okay! Good episode! So the first thing that I've noticed so far is the pacing. Much as I loved Joe's seasons, the biggest issue I had with both 15 and 16 was the pacing. 15 was rushed and 16 had this bizarre trend of having a lot of having things happen, but taking too long to get to anything significant. IDK if this is due to Jason taking over or because we're in the second half of this arc they can go faster, but things have been going very quickly so far. And I mean that in a good way. We get into things, have a fun little romp with it for an episode, and get back to the point. Both this and last week's episode did that very well, and I like that. Mind you I am concerned about things going too fast, especially since we only get 12 episodes this season, but so far it's been good.

This episode was essentially about showing us how the Everwhen works and Donut's struggles along it. It works simple enough, you can go through the memories of your choosing and possess yourself int hat period. IDK if that's how it goes for Genkins since he possesses AI-figured people, but it makes sense for Donut. It luckily doesn't take him long to figure out how to make it work, so we get a nice laugh when he gets stuck getting shot... and then feel bad for laughing... but my point is, we don't waste time on having Donut figuring out how it works. Again, very fast but the episode doesn't waste our time as a result. It does what it has to do, and moves on to the next thing.

So... Donut. He's freakin' great here. As I said above, there are some characters that are hard to envision as the main character, and even harder to figure out how to execute it. When I started this show two years ago, I would have never, ever, ever, EVEEEEER been able to imagine Donut as the focus character. Ever. Back then, I saw Donut as funny, but utterly pointless compared to everyone else. He'd been gone for various points so he missed out on many events, didn't do much during Chrous or S15,  and his double entendre/flamboyant jokes had gotten stale very fast, at least to me. It was gonna take work to pull off Protagonist Donut... and they did. S16 did a VERY good job of helping Donut flesh out as a character and making us sympathize with him. It pointed out how Donut is constantly ignored, belittled, and treated like a joke by his peers, which makes him falling for Chrovos' manipulation all the easier to buy and keep him likable despite obviously doing the wrong thing. Which makes him choosing his friends and the subsequent fight against O'Malley all the stronger. Not just because it was a badass fight and finale all around, but because Donut came in and out of it a much stronger, much better character.

It is because of this that Donut in this episode was so good. First, we do get to see that he IS competent. We all kinda forget that sometimes, but Donut is an overall very capable soldier when he focuses. After all, who grenaded Tex in S1 again? But yeah, he's able to quickly figure out how the Everwhen works and also pieces together that time, to some extent, is still intact after Chrovos' slip-up. The boy is... well I can't say he's not dumb, but it's RvB, everyone is at least a little dumb. But the boy IS capable when he's given the chance to be. He also remains sympathetic throughout as the memories continue to make clear that yes, Donut is constantly ignored and belittled by his “friends”. Chrovos isn't wrong about that. Yeah, they DO care about him. Simmons didn't get upset about Donut being shot for no reason, after all. But they're so horrible at showing that, not just to Donut but amongst themselves,s but Donut's probably the one who gets it the worst. Even when Grif actually listened, it died the second that Sarge reminded him of who he was listening to. And none of them make any attempts to hide it either.

It's clear throughout that Donut is getting tired of this. It was what got him to fall for Chrovos' manipulation prior, after all, and even he pointed all of this out in the S16 finale. The fact that despite it he's still determined to save them all is something that should be applauded. It's time for the guys to start recognizing how far Donut actually goes for them and to be at least a little bit more respectful. They can still be annoyed at the innuendos, which I'm SO glad that my headcanon of Donut having never realized what he was doing is confirmed, but it won't kill them to be nicer. They've all slowly been coming better people, so... yeah.

...did I just write three paragraphs worth of a Donut analysis? Damn, me two years ago would have NEVER seen that coming. But it makes my point I think. Any character, even a ridiculous one, can be done well if the effort is put into it. S16 did a solid job of building up Donut’s character and essentially preparing him and us for this season. As such, because of the character development and the particular situation, he works very well as the focus character and I am loving every second of it. Anyways, moving on!

Chrovos continues to be a fantastic villain. Jason has done such a good job on characterizing the Cosmic Powers (speaking of, when are they coming back? I need more ProZD in my life dang it!). Not only does Chrovos have a ton of personality, including some incompetent traits akin to his son Atlus, but I... almost felt bad for them. When they expressed being so happy to have anything happening after billions of years in isolation, you can hear their pure joy and relief. Mind you they're going to eradicate time as we know it to shape it into their image, but it's good to have that there. It makes Chrovos a more three-dimensional character who we want to see more of, even if they are the bad guy. And them realizing that they fucked up by telling Donut about the paradox effects and failing to stop him from leaving? That was some funny shit. Move aside Mercs, at this rate I may have a new favorite villain very, very soon.

What else can I comment on? Well... it was nice seeing some of the moments again, namely S10 and the S3 skit. I also liked how Grif is the one who believed Donut. Sure he got thrown off, but with this and him being the one who mainly got deja vu last episode and in the finale, I think we've got some strong hints that chances are, he's going to remember first. Which means my fear that he's going to be shown what happened to Huggins, which he's NOT going to take well, grows closer... but hey at least we got one person who listened, brief as it was. Oh, and joking about Wash having shot Donut throughout? Are we finally touching on this? THANK YOU! Even if it's just for this episode, THANK YOU. Now if we can have Wash apologize at some point...

Speaking of Wash, so... we finally got the answer to what I've been wondering for a while now. Wash wasn't caught in the paradox, so his fate was left wide open. Well, now we can confirm that he, like Donut, is in an out of time period. Now we know from last season that he went back to Chorus, my guess is to confront Dr. Grey about his brain damage. Which means that... yeah, he's likely not going to be in the best state when we see him. We're probably also going to see how the regular timeline is doing with the paradox breaking things as Donut searches for him. So... well... next week should be fun, right?!

Final Thoughts

Great episode! It wasn't too long, but it did what it needed to do. It established the Everwhen, gave us a fun romp of Donut's adventures through RvB history, did some character stuff for our main hero and villain, and perfectly set up for next week. I have no complaints that I can think of aside from my fears about the pacing, but again that so far hasn't been an issue. So what will Episode 3 have in store for us? IDK, but I'm going to work on getting my heart ripped out so that I won't be in pain. So gonna go take care of that, and I'll catch you all next week!

[amandajoyce118]

Friday Five: A Little SHIELD Romance

Since (almost) none of my favorite SHIELD moments included romance, I thought I’d do a list dedicated to just those shippy moments that I love. Not necessarily romantic dinners or kisses, but moments that reminded you how strong/important/dedicated the romantic relationships on Agents of SHIELD are.

I tried to limit myself to only one moment for a couple. There has to be a little varity here, right? And none of the moments here have been on my previous SHIELD related Friday Fives, so there’s something new.

Five: Coulson doesn’t give the full LMD May story

So, full disclosure: I’m not actually a big shipper when it comes to these two. This isn’t one of those stories that I have to see play out. I know that fans love that they might finally be finding their way to one another after working together for decades, but I do find that it undermines the idea of men and women being able to be “just friends.” I also don’t love when shows pair everyone in their main cast off. But I digress. Because you’re reading this for shippy moments, right? When the real May is back from the Framework, she assumes her LMD tried to kill Coulson. In actuality, they shared a kiss.

Coulson allows her to believe the lie, which is kind of him. He doesn’t want to hurt May or overcomplicate things. He also, at this point, knows that they both have feelings for each other, and doing this allows May to come to terms with her feelings at her own pace instead of wondering about whether he has feelings for her or her LMD.

Four: Bobbi takes a bullet

Someone taking a bullet to the shoulder and ending up in rehab for months wouldn’t usually be considered romantic, but in the case of Bobbi Morse, that’s how she shows her love for Lance Hunter. The whole premise here is that Grant Ward knows just how to push people’s buttons. After spending several episodes with Hunter and May after him, he kidnaps Bobbi and leaves her as bait in a trap to get rid of Hunter. It doesn’t work out that way though as Bobbi manages to move herself just far enough in front of the gun to make sure her ex-husband doesn’t end up dead.

Seeing it happen for the first time is a heart-stopping moment because, at that point, fans didn’t know if Bobbi would be back for more episodes or if the incident would push Hunter to leave SHIELD. With two characters who were introduced as (mostly) hating one another at the beginning of the season to find their way back to each other, then almost die for one another, fans knew these two would then be in it for the long haul.

Three: Lincoln sacrifices himself for Daisy

Poor Lincoln. We didn’t get to know him very well beyond the fact that he was an addict working through some issues with his Inhuman abilities, but he certainly made Daisy happy. Though he’s the one who initially helps Daisy learn to control her powers, he leaves SHIELD and superheroes behind for a while, trying to live a normal life. It’s Daisy he comes back to SHIELD for, and it’s Daisy that he sacrifices himself for in the end as someone has to fly the quinjet holding Hive into outer space.

You can say he was saving the world from Hive all you want, but he really did it because Daisy’s guilt complex (following her addiction to Hive) would have led her to sacrifice herself. He makes the decision so she doesn’t have to, and their conversation via the radio, a nod to Captain America and Peggy Carter saying goodbye, was heartbreaking.

Two: Elena refuses to leave Mack in the Framework

They might be one of the newest couples on the show, But Elena and Mack have already been through the wringer. Elena wasn’t taken and replaced with an LMD in season four, but Mack was. She went into the framework in hopes of pulling him out of the world, despite being told that she shouldn’t by Daisy.

What Elena finds there is that Mack is fully entrenched in this other world where his daughter is still alive, and once she tries to explain reality to him and it doesn’t take, she accepts it. Even though the framework is literally disappearing around them, she tells Mack she’ll stay with him if he wants to, knowing that they’ll both die. What a heartbreakingly romantic moment.

One: Fitz goes back to Maveth

It was incredibly tough for me to pick a moment for Fitz and Simmons. They’ve arguably had the most relationship moments between them of any pairing on the show, and despite their love for one another, they’ve been put through hell way too many times. I, surprisingly, didn’t choose a kiss or their wedding or their first time. Instead, I chose the moment that I think solidifies how Fitz feels about Jemma - even if he thinks he still doesn’t deserve her and won’t get to have a relationship with her.

He jumps into the portal to Maveth with Grant Ward to bring back Hive. He does it knowing that he can use the chance to bring Will back for Jemma. This is after the two of them have already made out a few times. This is after Jemma has admitted to being confused. He’s basically saying at that moment that he’s going to get this guy back for her and step aside so she doesn’t have to choose. Look, I hate the space boyfriend storyline. But this moment only made me appreciate Fitz even more.

I never for one second believed that Jemma would choose Will over Fitz since the storyline made it pretty clear she settled for him on a world where she thought she’d never see another human being again, but that Fitz was her person in the real world. I don’t think the triangle was crafted well, but I think Fitz’s reactions to it were.

And wow, this show is really full of people willing to make the tough sacrifice, huh?

[a-taller-tale]

Float On

Summary: Grif said he was jealous of the way clouds float once, so he shouldn't be bitching about the lack of gravity. Notes: My Reverse Big Bang writing entry based on Emmujin's wonderful grimmons art. This was a really fun piece to work on.

Also on Ao3

“I miss retirement,” Grif said randomly.

Simmons frowned in concentration, taking another hallway according to the map on his helmet screen, Grif following behind him. He kept his voice low. “Really? You miss retirement? You said we were all driving you crazy, and then when we left you got so sad that you made a bunch of volleyball replacements of us.”

“I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“You had to give me some kind of context when you said you kept ruining Church’s balls.” 

They were also really shitfaced that night, and Simmons had felt both confused and some other dark feeling he couldn’t name. Grif was always saying how Church was a jerk, he had no idea they ever—

“Yeah…” Grif sighed. “But don’t you miss retirement?” They both paused to duck into a corner and avoid some random people in lab coats marching down the hall talking about planning an office birthday party.

“It was nice at first, but then it did get kind of boring,” Simmons admitted once the group had passed them. “And we were regularly in a similar amount of mortal peril during retirement as we were in active duty with Sarge and Caboose that bored anyway.”

“Okay, true. The robots vs. dinosaur war got a little hairy, but I’m not really a fan of this kind of action either.”

The remnants of Project Freelancer, and by extension Malcolm Hargrove’s Charon Industries projects, were still keeping them busy. Retirement hadn’t worked out with their imposters running around causing havoc, so they weren’t safe to try again, no matter how remote the moon, until everything had been taken care of.

The latest mission had been complicated when half the team was capturedagain by some sketch lab they had been investigating again. Sometimes it seemed as if their strange lives were just stuck in the same seasonal cycle over and over again.

“You have to make a deal with me,” Grif continued. “After we rescue the guys we need another vacation, a real one, without Donut to set things on fire. I’m thinking the Vegas Quadrant.”

“Deal, but you’re using your own credit cards.—Oh, this closet’s got what we need.” Simmons opened the door to reveal extra scrubs and lab coats folded neatly and ripe for the taking. There was even a lost and found box with various extra stuff to wear under the coat.

If Simmons thought about it too hard it would gross him out since the clothes were probably dirty, and it reminded him of when the gym teacher made him go through the lost and found when he purposely “forgot” to bring gym clothes hoping it would excuse him from participating—that bit him in the ass—but desperate times called for desperate measures. Sarge needed them.

Simmons grabbed a sweater and some slacks that looked long enough. There were nursing shoes of various sizes in the corner.

It wasn’t until Grif closed himself in with Simmons and started stripping out of his armor that Simmons remembered a similar situation in a similar closet last year. Simmons coughed and moved on to the coats so Grif could take his pick of the lost and found, and starting looking through the sizes, grabbing one that would fit Grif and tossing it back in his direction, backing deeper into his own corner to change out of his armor.

“Capers where we need a disguise. We really have been hanging out with Blue Team too long…” Grif grumbled, running his hand through his helmet hair and re-tying it back. “Donut and Lopez better show up soon. Donut will hate missing an opportunity to dress up.”

“Well they—” Simmons interrupted himself when he saw what Grif had put on his feet. “Are you wearing socks under your sandals?” Grif smirked in a way that Simmons knew meant he did it just to piss him off. “There are regular shoes right there!”

“Do you have a problem, Simmons?” Grif asked pleasantly. He definitely did this on purpose. He knew this was one of Simmons’ pet peeves!

“No. You know what? Live your life the way you want to. See if I care.” Simmons cared. He cared so much. And Grif knew it, that asshole. Grif grew up on the beach! Shouldn’t socks under his sandals be sacrilegious or something?

In their new disguises, they made their way to the labs area. It was definitely the night shift, and they didn’t even run into too many people on the skeleton crew. Which was great since they hadn’t been spotted yet, but made it more likely that when they were spotted, they’d be recognized as not belonging. They needed to get this done as quickly as possible.

Simmons was suddenly shoved forward into an empty room out of nowhere, and there was a large warm hand clapped over his mouth before he even had the chance to squawk at Grif. “Guards,” Grif whispered. “Guns.”

Simmons nodded—then remembered himself and whacked Grif’s hand off his face. “Ow,” Grif grunted.

Through the window in the door they looked out to see the two guards with their menacing looking rifles and white armor, like Storm troopers, or Wyoming, or The Meta.

Man, bad guys were always wearing white armor these days. It was becoming its own cliché now. They needed new “good” and “bad” colors. But what would a good color be? …Forget Blue Team, Simmons was hanging out with Donut too much.

Once the guards had passed, and Simmons’ heart had calmed down, he started searching the room. It was pretty empty. There were several empty tables, beakers, test tubes, and various scientific detritus littering them. An empty bookcase stood against one wall behind a desk. It didn’t look like this room was in use very regularly.

“Dude, we’re never gonna find anything cool in here.” Grif said, wiping some dust off a table. “It’s all nerd stuff.”

“Grif, do you even remember what we’re looking for?” Simmons asked testily.

“More snacks?” Grif replied dryly, putting an Oreo in his mouth.

“What the— Where did you even get those?”

“Secret snack stash. There’s one in every room in every workplace that has ever existed in the universe.” Grif pointed to the drawer he’d just opened and there were a lot of snacks in there. But considering that it looked like no one used this room there was no telling how old this stuff was–Oh, were those Red Vines? He hadn’t had one of those in years!—No,focus Simmons.

“Ugh, whatever. Just help me look for a computer terminal. Or a tablet, or datapad, or anything that connects to their network, so I can unlock the holding area and then we can get the hell out of here.”

Grif sighed. “Man, if Sarge wasn’t in there with the Blues we could just go. Not do any of this dangerous shit. I’m sure they’d be fine. Caboose has stupid good luck. We don’t. You remember some of these guys have guns, right?”

“You have a gun too,” Simmons pointed out.

“Uhhhh...” Oh no.

“What the hell, Grif? Did you leave your gun with your armor? Are you serious?”

Grif at least managed to look a little sheepish. “These pockets aren’t very deep.”

Simmons looked down at his own coat, and admittedly where his pistol was bulging out from his pocket was both really obvious and ridiculous. He looked up to see Grif trying to store cookies for later. “But you have room for an entire box of Oreos.”

“Priorities, Simmons.”

“Ughh whatever." Simmons continued looking, with some help from Grif, which was better than zero.

Grif found an ancient looking laptop on a sliding tray under one of the lab tables. Simmons nodded grimly. It was shitty and old, but it could work.

Simmons pulled it up in a corner out of view of the window and prayed it would turn on. This was actually an ideal place for them to hack into the system if the guards didn’t come in very often. It was slow to boot up, but when it did, he was able to bypass the password protections easily and get into the system. “Yes! Score.”

Grif gave him a raised eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Good! Simmons was doing all the hard work here! He kept a look out at the door while Simmons went through the databases. Luckily they were clearly labeled. Environmental controls, locks, lights… “How long is this gonna take?” Grif asked, but Simmons could tell he was worried rather than impatient.

“Just another minute/ I’m working as fast as I can!” Simmons sniped. He should know Simmons didn’t work well under pressure.

“There’s another patrol coming this way,” Grif whispered.

“I’ve almost got it,” Simmons said, his fingers flying against the keys. It reminded him of high school and college, his fingers flying across screens and keys like he was made to do it. As natural as breathing or swimming or hiding in the computer lab from bullies until 9 o clock at night.

There were red lights on each of the cell blocks and on the third try the lights on cell block C went from red to green. “Got it!” Simmons said triumphantly. They had been getting along so well lately, Sarge might actually give him a pat on the shoulder for this one.

“I found them!” said a guard from the hall.

Grif dropped the Oreos. “Oh fuck.”

Simmons looked around for a weapon, but the room was pretty empty aside from some chemistry equipment, the laptop and Grif’s fucking Oreos.

Bang, bang, bang and the door flew open. Three guards came in, guns at the ready. Oh god.

Simmons suddenly felt practically naked without his armor on.

“Simmons,” Grif said nervously out of the side of his mouth, backing into the wall.

“I know, hang on, I have an idea!” Simmons threw Grif his pistol. “Try to hold them off.” Simmons turned back to mess with the computer. He went back a few folders. There. Environmental controls.

Score one for the nerds. Computer science can save the day. Screw the jocks!

The three guards marched in, armor gleaming menacingly. “Surrender and put your hands up!” The first guard yelled.

Grif lifted his gun as guard number two fired his gun, aiming at Simmons, but between the shot and the impact the world tilted on its side and suddenly they weren’t on the ground any more. They were floating. Holy fuck.

“This was your plan??” Grif asked in disbelief, feet above his head, arms pin wheeling as he tried to get right-side-up again.

“It’s a good distraction!” Simmons cried defensively, trying to figure out how to steer himself.

Grif managed to get upright just in time to miss being shot by the first guard. “Oh, holy shit.”

Simmons remembered some of his training in antigravity before he was shuttled into the Freelancer Sim Trooper program and managed to awkwardly swim close enough to grab guy number three’s gun. He looked like he was the slowest one—there was one guy like that in every team—and Simmons was right. Simmons reared back and slammed the gun into the back of the guard’s head as hard as he could. With a pitiful whine, the guy slumped unconscious, but he didn’t really go “down” because they were all floating. Huh. That was less satisfying than it should have been.

Grif fired his own gun and guard number two went down. Which left guard number one who was—Where was he?

Simmons actually saw stars, which he thought was more of a cartoon thing, when an impact hit the back of his own skull. Everything went dark before he even had the chance to cry out.

“I’m jealous of clouds,” Grif said, his eyes were half lidded in relaxation, the irises glowing under the light of the sun. He looked like he belonged there. Like his natural form was to lay in the grass and the sun.

That was a weird thought. Stop it, brain.

“Clouds?” Simmons asked. “That’s random. What do you mean?”

They were lying on their backs in the shade beside the ditch where the warthog was stuck. Normally, Simmons wouldn’t shirk his duties, but he was tired of being the only one pushing the Warthog while Grif tried and failed to get it started again. He knew better than to ask Grif to trade. If he tried Grif would talk him into knots until Simmons was hanging over his credit card information without realizing he’d been tricked. Sometimes Simmons hated that guy. But he didn’t today.

When Grif groaned, “Break time, use it or lose it,” and flopped down in the grass, Simmons only sighed and paced for a minute before joining him.

It was nice to take a break anyway—not that he’d tell Grif that and give him another excuse. But it seemed like ever since they’d gotten to know the Blues on a last name basis there had been non-stop running around and having adventures.

Grif had been so weird and tense lately too. This was a good break from the odd nervous energy he kept displaying around Simmons.

Decision made, when he had tossed his helmet off, Simmons followed suit.

“What’s that about clouds?” Simmons prompted him again when Grif didn’t answer right away. Sometimes when Grif got in a “deep” mood he got pretty insecure about it. And yeah, any clumsy mistake or slip of the tongue was currency to tease each other later, but Grif should know by now that the philosophy stuff was cool with him. Simmons wonders why they’re here too—how they got here, what it all means—a lot these days.

Instead of backing off of the subject like Simmons half expected him to, Grif looked at Simmons and smiled contentedly. Grif may have looked relaxed in the sun, but he looked a little flushed too. Right, the fan in his armor was broken. Which he only seemed to bring up when they were out on a mission. He never brought it up when they were just sitting at home watching TV and someone could actually repair it.

“Clouds don’t have to run around chasing Blues, or listen to Sarge or anything. They just float around.” Grif sounded so wistful and relaxed. Simmons was suddenly enormously grateful for this break in the shade.

“Clouds also don’t get to gamble or eat or drink alcohol and I know you love doing all those things,” he couldn’t help pointing out.

“Yeah, you’re right. Guess I just want the power to float. Can you imagine taking a nap floating in the clouds? It looks so soft.”

“Actually, it would be damp and cold. Haven’t you ever been in a plane in that area of the atmosphere?”

“Have a little imagination, Simmons,” Grif scolded him, but he sounded fond around a yawn. “You don’t have to think about everything so realistically all the time. Think about those clouds having the consistency of cotton candy and the sun hitting you just right and you’re floating like you’re in an inner tube and just letting the air take you wherever it wants you to go. Like a current…” Grif trailed off, leaving Simmons with the uncomfortable impression that they had maybe possibly somehow accidentally just had an intimate moment.

Simmons waited for him to continue, but when Simmons looked back at him, Grif’s eyes were shut and his breathing was already even, like his own story had lulled him off to sleep.

They really should have tried to head back already, but Grif looked so peaceful, and it was the most comfortable they had been together in a while. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so,” Simmons said quietly, and totally didn’t watch his teammate sleep like a creep for two hours.

“Simmons! Simmons!”

Simmons felt a flash of annoyance. What the hell was Grif doing waking him up. It took him so long to go to sleep. And his head hurt. Had they been drinking last night?

“Simmons,” Grif said again insistently. “Wake the fuck up, there could be more guards coming. We gotta get out of here. How do we get down?”

Simmons winced and opened his eyes into slits.

They were floating. “Oh my god,” he wailed. “Is that blood?”

He’d seen a lot of blood in his career as a soldier, and bled a lot too, but it was indescribably creepy to see it floating in little driblets around them.

“Yeah genius, its blood. You let some asshole hit you in the back of the head. I shot him back, but there could be more guys coming.” Simmons blinked and was able to take in more of the room. Grif was near the bookcase, trying to hold onto it and panting and flailing and looking a little panicked. The bodies of the three unconscious (dead?) guards that had attacked them were floating through the air.

“How do we get down?” Simmons asked himself, the pain in his head was making everything foggy, and the vision in his cyborg eye was flipping like a TV with a bad signal.

“I don’t know! You’re the computer guy.”

“Right. The computer... If I can find the computer I can…” He tried to adjust his position and his stomach flipped worryingly too. He did not want to throw up in front of Grif in anti-gravity. He had to find the computer. Did it float off? “I think I just remembered I’m afraid of heights.”

“—You are not. I’m the one who’s scared of heights, and I’m fine.” The sheen to his skin said otherwise, but Simmons chose to believe he was telling the truth. When Grif was calm it was easier for Simmons to freak out. Wait, no, when Grif was freaking out, it was easier for Simmons to calm down. Whatever.

“Come on,” Grif urged as if sensing his thoughts. “You can freak out later. Let’s get down and find everyone else now.”

Simmons nodded, looking around for the laptop, which was floating below them, near a beaker of ominous purple glowing liquid that he wasn’t sure he had seen earlier. Better not touch that. This lab dealt with some really sketchy stuff.

Simmons attempted to steer himself downward to reach it, but only ended up doing a 360 in the air and knocking himself into one of the bodies. “Shit!”

“Hey, calm down, dude. Everything’s okay. You took a big hit there, huh? If I get you to the computer will you still be able to undo what you did? I promise once we get out of here we can get your head checked out, okay?” Grif sounded gentle and he was babbling a little bit, and the injury to his head must look pretty nasty for him to sound that nice.

Simmons realized he was shaking a little and tried to take deep breaths to calm himself as Grif swam towards him, knocking some objects out of the way, and using one of the unfortunate guards as a springboard until he reached Simmons.

As soon as he was within reach Simmons grabbed at his hand tightly. The warmth of Grif’s hand calmed him down immediately. He was still dizzy and his head was still buzzing but Grif was right here with him and they were floating just like Grif wanted.

Grif’s face was flushed like it had been that day too, which was odd because it wasn’t really hot, and they were indoors so they weren’t in the sun, and Grif’s armor cooling system didn’t matter because they weren’t in armor.

“I got you,” Grif said, and Simmons felt like he was floating. –Oh, well they were floating. Simmons looked back down at Grif’s hand like he just realized he was holding it. “If I have a counterweight it’ll be easier for me to navigate,” Simmons murmured dazedly.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Grif said, and he squeezed his hand back. “That makes complete and total sense.”

Jeez, Grif was acting weird. “Yeah, so we’ll get to the laptop and then—”

The Oreos floated by along with the box in the opposite direction of the laptop. “My Oreos! They didn’t get destroyed!” Grif said. He was tempted.

“Grif, if you pull me towards the Oreos, and more guards come in and we die, I’m going to kill you,” Simmons said with a sobriety and certainty he totally felt.

“Fine.”

They side eyed the unconscious—or dead, or just napping—guards as they awkwardly flailed, attempting to figure out how to get closer to the laptop.

The first time Simmons got his hands on it, he accidentally batted it in Grif’s direction. Grif had to bat it back to him, and Simmons finally let his hand go so he had two to work with. He missed the warmth already.

“Do your magic, dude,” Grif said. “Just try to give me a countdown before we crash into the floor. A ‘prepare for impact’ works.”

“Mmm…” Simmons managed to get back onto the environmental control screen without too much trouble, though his head was feeling glitchy too now. Like his attention kept flipping channels. This is the code for—Grif’s hands—press Esc add three backslashes—floating like clouds it would be so nice to nap right here. Under the sun. Cotton candy. Grif’s eyes warm and glowing.

Simmons didn’t remember finishing, but gravity came back to them slowly. Grif was below him, bracing for impact. Simmons floated down, closing his eyes and clutching the laptop like the favored teddy bear his dad threw away when he was six. Instead of the rough landing he was bracing himself for, he landed on something soft and warm.

“Hey, uh… you’re a little close there.”

When Simmons blinked his eyes open he was looking straight into Grif’s deep brown eyes. They weren’t glowing because there wasn’t any sunlight. But they were still pretty. And he was still so dizzy. He was draped over Grif and there were no hard edges like there would be with their armor on. “Oh good, it worked.” He dropped the laptop and dropped his head into Grif’s soft chest.

When he lifted his head again, Grif looked distinctly redder in the face.

Grif could say all that sarcastic stuff all he wanted but his face showed… something else Simmons couldn’t really interpret it, but he looked…. Good.

Their faces were closer. Oh, good. Grif’s eyes were wide, but dilated. Probably from all the adrenaline. Yeah…

Grif’s heart—Simmons’ old heart—raced under him, even though time felt like it had slowed down. Gravity really messed with you. Space was like that.

Simmons’ eyes closed again. They were sharing breath. He still felt like he was floating, orbiting Grif, and being pulled closer and closer by some force. Grif inhaled sharply, and Simmons’ realized their lips were just about to brush, and that was like floating too.

“Guys, there you are!” The door slammed open and Simmons groggily pulled away.

Donut was standing in the doorway. Of course it was Donut. Perfect timing. Thanks a lot, Donut. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Yeah, the getaway ships been revved up to go for ages! Bow-chicka-wow-wow.” And Tucker. Of course.

“[It looks like we interrupted something],” Lopez said in Spanish. “[They were about to make out. Finally. After years of sexual tension. Maybe we should just leave them here.]”

Simmons was distracted from watching Lopez speak Spanish at them even though literally none of them could understand it, to wonder why Grif was suddenly coughing and scrambling to get up. “We definitely weren’t doing that!”

“What?” Simmons asked. Was he… responding to Lopez?

“What? Nothing!” Grif said. “I don’t know any Spanish, stop accusing me!”

Simmons got up unsteadily. “Okay, whatever, jeez.” Grif wordlessly helped support him as they made their way back to the ship.

Sarge harrumphed and examined him and made the flipping in his eye and his head stop. There were a few stitches and some pain medication too.

Grif made a couple of half-hearted attempts to extricate himself from Simmons once they got to the ship, but oddly enough, most of their friends were leaving Grif and Simmons alone. Grif was so much more secure when they were left alone that he relaxed a little bit, and didn’t make too much of a fuss about Simmons leaning on him and dozing.

Simmons still felt like he was floating. A glow from the sun in his cheeks. Or maybe it was just the blow to the back of the head.

[were-cheetah-stiles]

The College Years - Freshman Year (Chapter 18) -Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles​

Title: “The Dead Week”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey, Cora Hale, Derek Hale, Ethan, Malia Tate, Sarah Millin, Hanna Simmons, Mina Van Steenis, Liam Dunbar, Mason Hewitt, Hayden Romero, Lydia Martin, Jordan Parrish, Zachary Pillit & Reader/OFC

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, cursing probably, other stuff? idk.

A.N.: This chapter is long but is also sort of the beginning of the end of this part of the series as their Freshman year is coming to a close.

Summary: The Pack sets out to save Hanna before it's too late.

Chapter Seventeen - Chapter Eighteen - Chapter Nineteen

“Zachary... You're name is Zachary, right?" Y/N squatted in front of him. "I'm not gonna hurt you... Do you remember me?" Y/N pulled her hair out of her face and back onto her shoulders. "I helped you and your girlfriend, Mary, that night in Magnolia Park. Do you remember?" The young vampire nodded his head. Y/N smiled a smile that lit up the room. "Great, great... Zachary, I'm sorry that I couldn't help you more, that I couldn't keep this from happening to you, but I'm hoping that you'll help me now. Will you help me?"

"Yes." Zachary, the first victim of the vampire attacks, from the night when Y/N met Scott and Stiles, said quietly, convinced by Y/N’s sincerity.

"Your friends took my roommate. Her name is Hanna, she has three sisters and parents and grandparents who all love her very much. Sarah and I, we love her very much. She's our best friend, and your friends took her from us." Y/N pointed to Sarah, standing next to Parrish behind the couch. "If you tell us what they've done with her, we might be able to help you get back to your old life. Does that sound fair?"

"Yes." Zachary whispered.

"Why were you following our friends tonight?" Scott asked gently.

"She told me to."

"Who's 'she'?" Scott asked.

"The Queen."

"I feel like this is a horrible idea." Stiles commented, as they stood in the middle of Magnolia Park waiting for the vampires to show. "I know you are basically the undead now, but I will totally kill you if you get us killed." Stiles glared at Zachary, their vampire hostage, who had arranged the meet-up. “Dead. I’ll kill you dead.”

"Here they come." Zachary pointed off in the distance to the group approaching them.

"Scott McCall, I've heard so much about you and your pack... and the witch, a descendant of the first American witches. What a treat."

"You know us, but we don't know you." Scott said, in his sweet, low tone, as he surveyed the group of vampires. A tall, slender, and pale but beautiful woman stood in front, addressing them, as two younger and built male vampires flanked her on either side. He didn't see Hanna.

"My name is Ilyse." She said, her voice melodic and her accent mildly foreign.

"You didn't bring Hanna." You spoke up.

"I didn't think it was a fair trade, young witch. Beautiful, youthful, vital Hanna is precious to you... she's valuable to you. Zachary... well, unfortunately, Zachary, you are expendable." Ilyse smiled with an eerie calmness.

"If you weren't going to trade, then why did you even come here?" Stiles demanded to know.

"Ah, the human friend, you should know something about being expendable..." Ilyse tilted her head to survey Stiles' fidgeting, then turned her attention back to Scott. "We came here with a warning, for you Alpha. You came into our territory, you and your mangy dogs, and your half-pint witch." Her entire demeanor changed, the cordial tone was gone. "We've been migrating up and down the West Coast since before the Europeans built fur posts here. We take what we need and the community looks the other way, but you all... you are the ones that blew this out of proportion and threatened my children. You are the ones who need to leave." Her voice became less melodic, and more demonic and guttural.

"I'm not going anywhere without Hanna." You snapped back.

"Unfortunately, if you don't leave, Hanna will never be returned safe and sound into the arms of her mother and what a shame that would be." She returned to her previous demeanor. She smiled. "Leave now, or more will die, starting with her. I promise you that." Ilyse threatened, as she turned her back on the group and walked back into the night.

"She left me..." Zachary piped up. "I can't believe she left me.... That bitch... vampires don't survive on their own." Zachary began to panic, pulling at the chains around his arms.

"Then help us, Zachary, please." You took his hands in yours and squeezed them. "And maybe we can help you."

"You need to find someone." Zachary was quick to flip on his betrayers.

"Who?" Stiles asked.

"The descendant of the Van Helsing line... She holds the key to killing vampires." Zachary divulged.

"Where is she?" You asked, your eyes widening.

"She goes to Berkeley... That's why we've been spending more time here than we usually would, we've been trying to track her down and get the weapon." Zachary explained, admitting the true purpose of the vampires extended stay.

"Do you know her name?" Scott asked.

Zachary nodded. "Mina Van Steenis."

"We need to break into the registrars office." Stiles said, a mischievous look spreading across his face.

"She's in the Criminal Justice major with me..." Stiles said, as he pulled her file from the cabinet in the Registrars office. "Aaaaaaand she's in your American Government class, Y/N." He said, turning to his girlfriend and handing her the file.

"I guess you guys are going to class with me tomorrow morning." You said, shaking your head, as you looked at the picture on file, and recognized the pretty brunette girl from your lecture class.

You walked through the door and looked for the girl in the sea of people. You saw her, a seat open next to her, and approached.

"Can I sit?" You asked, pointing to the desk next to Mina's.

"Yea, sure.."

"Can you move, I need to sit here... just scoot down a couple of, yea, thanks. Oh you’ll get over it, it's just a seat." Stiles said to the guy sitting on the opposite side of Mina. He glanced over at you, and pointed behind him. “I hate when people take the seat I’ve been sitting in all semester, I’d be so pissed if I were that guy.” You chuckled, shook your head and watched as Scott sat in the chair in front of Mina’s.

"Is your name Mina? Mina Van Steenis?" You asked.

"Uh, yea, do I know you guys?" She asked, trepidatiously.

"No, but we need your help." Stiles chimed in, leaning over the desk in front of him.

"I'm sorry, it's Dead Week.. finals are next week, and if you're all just coming to this class now, I don't think I can help you." Mina answered, a weirded out and annoyed look on her face.

"We don't need help with the class." You replied, lightly levitating Mina's notebook off of her desk.

Mina's eyes narrowed in on you and Scott. "Why don't we take this outside?" She suggested.

The group filed out of the large classroom, through the backdoor and out into the parking lot behind the building. Mina dropped her backpack to the ground, and reached in her pocket, revealing a short, curved dagger in her hand. She took an offensive position, causing Scott to reveal his claws.

"You're werewolves and witches, I knew it." Mina said. "Come at me!" She yelled.

Stiles looked at his friends and shrugged. "Uh, we're good..." He said as he raised his hands up.

"....What?" Mina asked, confused, still gripping the dagger.

"We didn't come here to hurt you.. I am actually in that class with you." You pointed back to the building. "But that's not why we came to talk to you. We need your help."

"Someone told us that you are the direct descendant of the Van Helsings, and I don't know if you noticed, but Berkeley has a bit of a vampire problem." Stiles quipped dryly, circling his hands in front of him.

"Can you come to the coffeeshop with us and just talk to us please?" Scott asked gently.

Cora locked the door of the coffee shop behind Derek. The whole group was there. Lydia had come up from Stanford, and Parrish, Derek, Liam, Mason and Hayden had come in from Beacon Hills. They all sat and listened to Mina tell her story.

"My family has been waging this war against the vampires since vampires came into existence. All of these stupid fucking movies and tv shows nowadays glorify the species, but we remember.. They're feral animals that need to be put down." She snarled at Zachary, sitting quietly in the corner of the room with his head down, trying not to draw her attention to him.

"She's a little crazy.. I like her." Ethan whispered to Isaac, who nodded.

"Mina, Ilyse took our roommate, and we don't know how to get her back." You had your arm hooked with Sarah's. You two had been leaning on each other extra in the past few days.

"If they didn't bring her to your meeting, that means that they probably already gave her The Bite, and there are only two ways to save her now: if she's been bitten and has already killed, she's a vampire now, which means she's gone." Stiles looked at you and Scott; his theory about how the vampires were being turned was correct. Mina continued. "If she's been bitten, but hasn't killed, she can still be saved, but only by killing the one who bit her."

"Thaddeus." Zachary said quietly from the back. "Thaddeus bit her and I, but as of the last time I saw her, she hadn't killed anyone yet. He was one of the ones that you fought in Magnolia Park the night they attacked Mary and I."

"So we have to kill Thaddeus.." Sarah chimed in, getting into the swing of her crazy new life.

"No, no, we don't kill." Scott corrected, getting frustrated with his pack's own bloodlust.

"You have no choice, Alpha. These vampires are not here to negotiate. They came to kill me, and now they'll probably kill all of you just on principle." Mina retorted.

"So how do you kill a vampire?" Derek asked, leaning forward as he sat next to Cora and Stiles on a couch.

"My family created five bowie knives. They were made by witches in France." She gestured to you.

"Original coven witches." You answered.

Mina nodded. "They were each imbued with a drop of virgin blood, and the saliva of a werewolf. The metal was forged by hand by a Hellhound named Daniel." She looked up at Parrish. She hadn't been told much about the group, but she was experienced and trained well enough that she could tell by sight who was what. "They were then immediately cooled by the breath of a Banshee.” She looked at Lydia. “It took years to make them correctly, and as some of my ancestors fell, the bowie knives were destroyed with them."

"How many are left?" Stiles asked.

"Three, and I have all of them." She told them. "You stab them in the heart and then rip off their heads for good measure. Bram Stoker's Draculawasn't a fictional novel, it was a public service announcement." She said. "You need to storm their compound, find Hanna, and try not to get killed. If you help me kill a few vampires in between, great."

The large hoard, plus Mina, stared at the large mansion South of campus, that Isaac, Cora, and Ethan identified as being where they saw Hanna, from a distance. Scott turned to address his pack.

"Stiles, you stay with Y/N, and Lydia, you stay with Parrish. I don't want to kill these things, but I also don't want any of us getting hurt like Cora did the other night. Defend yourselves. Stay in your groups, and stay on the walkie talkies. I have a bowie knife, Zachary, Y/N, Stiles, Liam and Hayden, you're with me. Mina has a bowie knife, Ethan, Cora, and Isaac, you're with her.... and Derek has the last one, Parrish, Lydia and Malia are with him. We're here to find Hanna, abduct Thaddeus, and get out. We'll see you after." Scott nodded at his group, and watched as they separated, surrounding the house. "We're taking the front entrance, so we're going to take the brunt of it. Y/N, have you been practicing your forcefield?" Scott asked.

"Yea, I think if Stiles is with me, I can maintain it, at least for a bit." You answered, gripping Stiles' hand in yours.

Scott broke the lock on the front door and stepped back, allowing you and Stiles to take the lead. You emitted a large force field around you, that bounced the first vampire off of it with ease. Zachary stayed in between Liam and Hayden, who each had their claws up against his spine. They weren't sure if they could trust him, but they needed him to direct them through the house. Scott saw Derek and Mina's groups break through the back and side doors and begin fighting the vampires. Mina was cutting through the vampires with her knife like they were made of butter.

"Scott, there's nothing we can do! We have to go." Stiles yelled, waiting for his friend at the bottom of the stairs. Scott followed reluctantly.

"It's the top floor, keep going.." Zachary directed.

Liam took down a few vampires and Stiles smacked one across the face with his bat, but the bowie knife and your force field deterred most from fighting.

"I'm losing it." You said, the glow of your force field flickering from your hands.

"Then save it for when we have Hanna." Stiles assured you.

"Scott, we got Thaddeus." Derek said over the walkie talkie. "Do you need back up?"

"No, no, get out of here." Scott replied.

"She's behind this door." Zachary directed the group.

Scott opened the door to the room where they were holding Hanna and was bombarded with blood thirsty vampires. Hayden, Liam and Scott went to work clawing and punching at them, making their way through the room. You threw a hoard of them across the room with your telekinesis, only to reveal that they were protecting an older vampire woman, with her incredibly long claws against Hanna's throat. You tried to lift her off Hanna, but she dug her nails in deeper.

"Scott... You have to." Stiles said as he and Liam held the door closed behind them, preventing more vampires from coming in and providing support for the old woman. You hovered over Hayden, who was bleeding from her stomach. Zachary was defending the Pack from the group of vampires that you had put down. Scott looked at you and nodded.

"I'm putting it down, just please, we can talk about this. Let her go." Scott reasoned with the old woman, as he slowly dropped the bowie knife to the floor.

"You foolish mutt." She uttered in a guttural tone. She threw Hanna to the side and charged at Scott. You used your powers to pick the bowie knife from the ground and into the old woman's chest. Scott drove it in further, then dropped to the ground with her lifeless body in his arms. She turned to dust in his hands.

"Stiles, help me get her up." You yelled as you rushed to Hanna's side, taking off your sweater and wrapping it as a bandage around Hanna's neck.

"We've got Hanna, we're coming out." Stiles spoke into the walkie, breaking the silence.

You and Stiles carried Hanna out and down the stairs, with Zachary in front, fighting off those who confronted them, having proven himself to the group earlier. Liam helped a wounded Hayden down behind you and Hanna and Stiles. Scott covered their flank, fighting off any residual vampires willing to take them on. They finally made it outside to where Derek's group was holding Thaddeus.

"Where are Mina and Isaac and Cora and Ethan?" Scott asked, looking around and taking inventory of his friends. He then heard static crackle over the walkie.

"SCOTT! MINA WENT ROGUE. SHE TOOK THE QUEEN." Isaac yelled through the radio.

Seventeen <- -> Nineteen

woo. that was a long chapter. 

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