#also queens have told me before that they’d KILL to have cheekbones and a jaw like mine naturally

[psychoticwillgraham]

finally gonna do my will inspired makeup later tonight!! yippee!!! wahoo!!!

[alirhi]

random snippet again

as promised, @feralgoblintea here's the (temporary) scene where the two sisters meet for the first time since one went missing as a child

note about the nickname: Rachel's middle name is Miranda; everyone has called her 'Andy' from that since she was a little kid. it's explained in her story, but not in this scene, so I just wanted to explain it here lol

"Your parents are very eager to know where you've been and what you've been going through all these years," the doctor told her, deep voice oddly gentle and soothing. Rachel smiled sadly; his voice reminded her of Amadeus. "Most of all, they want to know that you're alright."

She knew he thought she was crazy. Her parents definitely shared that opinion, which was why she was here to begin with. Still, she couldn't help asking, "And, in your professional opinion, am I?"

He caught her lightly mocking tone and snorted, leaning back in his chair to mirror her pose. "In my professional opinion," he shot back, though the sarcasm left his tone before he even finished his sentence, "you've been through Hell, Rachel. The trauma you've suffered is very, very real. If you're asking, do I believe in demons and portals and time travel, I'd have to say no. But that pain and fear came from somewhere... I'd like you to come back in for regular sessions, if you're up for it; see if we can cut through the fantasy, see past the demons and find the real monsters who hurt you."

"That's why I'm not coming back." She stood, shaking her head a little. "I'm not surprised you don't believe me - I probably wouldn't believe it, myself, if I hadn't lived it - but it's a bit frustrating. What I told you isn't metaphors or delusion. It all happened, and I'm not interested in having someone rip it all apart and try to make me doubt my own memory."

"They call that 'gaslighting' these days."

Startled, the blonde whirled around to face the source of the new voice; a woman she sort of vaguely recognized was standing in the doorway, hand on the knob, smiling at her. After a long moment, her brain helpfully edited the image before her to make it make sense; wild red hair to dirty blonde, violet eyes to mismatched green and blue, face younger and body smaller and more plump. "...Beck?!"

Rebecca's smile widened and she stepped forward with a nod. "Hey, Andy."

"Oh my god!" With a laugh and a delighted screech, she launched herself across the room and threw her arms around her little sister. "What are you doing here?"

Nearly squeezing the breath out of her, the younger woman murmured, "I heard you were back and had to see you. Stand your ground, Andy. Don't let them make you forget or doubt that it was all real. We know the truth." She released her, only to bring her hands up to grip the sides of her sister's head. "Magic is real."

Rachel froze, staring at Rebecca's mouth long after it closed and the two long, wicked fangs that had drawn her attention were hidden from view. "...What happened to you?"

"Not here. I'll tell you everything, but not here."

"Okay." Without so much as a backward glance at the shrink, she followed the redhead out of the office, past their fretting parents, and out into the bright sunny day that made Rebecca hiss.

She cringed and immediately donned a beat-to-hell baseball cap and a pair of dark sunglasses. "Fuck, I hate sunny days."

"You always did." Rachel couldn't help smiling faintly; so many years had passed, more than anyone in the world around them could ever understand, and yet so little about her baby sister had changed.

"Yeah, well... I've only gotten more sensitive to it."

Once they'd made it deep enough into the woods behind the Industrial Park that there was no risk of anyone overhearing, they stopped, and Rachel asked her point blank: "You're a vampire, aren't you?"

Rebecca laughed, gratefully leaning back into the shade of the nearest tree. "Only in our lives is that a casual conversation starter. And yes. Thankfully I'm old enough that daylight won't kill me. It's just unpleasant."

With her own accidental time travel in mind, the blonde asked, "How old are you?" Thirty-seven, she knew, in the eyes of the people around them; to them, Rachel herself had only just turned thirty-nine, and yet both sisters looked at each other with exhausted, haunted eyes millennia older than they could ever hope to make anyone else understand.

"As a vampire, or in general?" She smirked, shrugging off her own question before her sister could answer. "In general is harder to pin down, but I've been a vampire for about six thousand years, give or take a few."

Leaning against a tree roughly opposite Rebecca's, Rachel mirrored her smirk and crossed her arms over her chest. "I was Queen of an entire planet, and then POW and slave on a second, then a fugitive... I managed to send my older daughter home, before I got stuck on a third planet with my boys and little girl. It's been about ten thousand years."

"You have kids?" Rebecca grinned, once again showing those distractingly long fangs. "Me, too! I have two daughters, Madeline and Alice."

"Senna, Kieran, Caspian, and...Cassie," Rachel told her in answer to her unspoken question. She couldn't help blushing as she listed her children's names; she'd since learned what senna was, and hadn't actually given her younger two children names beginning with the same sound on purpose. It had just sort of worked out that way.

"Twins?"

She shook her head. "Caspian's my stepson, kinda, and Cassie was named after-"

Rebecca flinched, remembering. "After Cassie Wade, right? I was so focused on figuring out what happened to you, and then fighting to survive, I'd forgotten she went missing with you."

"She..." Clearing her throat, the blonde squared her shoulders and pulled her strong front around herself like a familiar safety blanket. "She saved our lives; she didn't make it. And, yeah. I named my youngest after her. Anyway, they're all grown, and Kieran..." Jaw clenching, she forcibly dismissed thoughts of her rapist and merely said, "He's my perfect warrior prince. Well, King now. I love them all, and desperately miss Senna, but Kieran, despite his more questionable choices, has a special place in my heart."

Rebecca took her sunglasses off and studied her for a moment before venturing, "Y'know... I literally eat rapists for breakfast."

That got a startled bark of laughter from her big sister, who shook her head. "Even if my boy hadn't already killed him, I doubt his gross, rancid blood would sit well with you. He wasn't human."

The redhead shrugged, smirking again. "Doesn't have to be. I've eaten Fae, elves, one vampire that pissed me off royally..."

"Not such a picky eater anymore, huh?" she teased, grinning. "Was it some badass revenge on your sire or something?"

Laughing, Rebecca shook her head. "Nope, no sire. I'm the OG vampire, babe. The first of the species. My younger daughter, Alice, is the first of the natural born vamps."

"So, wait... You could still get pregnant after you were turned? What?" Rachel frowned, beyond confused. "And how the fuck...?"

"I'm not dead," her little sister explained with another laugh. "Everything's slowed way the hell down, but hasn't stopped. I can't have kids with a human, or probably most Fae, but a certain trickster God..."

"...God?"

She grinned and nodded, though her haunting violet eyes looked sad. "Loki. He's Alice's dad."

"Huh. So the Gods are real." Rachel snorted. "Go figure. And my sister banged one."

"I loved him," the other woman whispered, staring at the ground. She opened her mouth as if to speak further, then seemed to reconsider and closed it again, clearing her throat.

To spare her from some clearly painful memories, whatever they were, Rachel asked, "What's a Fae?"

"Fairy," was the simple enough answer. "Fairies are real, too. Maddie - my oldest - is Fae."

Is she Loki's, too? She didn't dare ask - Loki was clearly a touchy subject - but she was dying to know.

As if she could read her mind, Rebecca, still avoiding her gaze, explained, "I was still mortal when I had her. Her father was Fae."

As the light breeze shifted the leaves above them, making the light dance across Rebecca's ghostly white skin, Rachel finally noticed the scars. At first, they'd looked like tribal tattoos, done puzzlingly in a silvery-white. When she realized they were actually a complex web of ancient scars, she also noticed they covered every inch of her sister's flesh that she could see around her shorts and tank top. Her face was the only place free of the oddly beautiful swirling lines, though she did spot a faint scar on her forehead, running from hairline to cheekbone and through the outer edge of her eyebrow.

"Is Madeline's father why you hunt rapists?" Is he the one who tore you apart?

"He didn't rape me... Technically. But yes, he's the one who scarred me." At her startled look, Rebecca smirked; it utterly failed to reach her eyes, but it was a start. "I can read your mind. I'm trying not to - I find it unspeakably rude and invasive - but when you're actively thinking about me, it tends to cut through my shields. The scars are from a spell he worked on me; blood magic. It's what made Maddie's conception possible, and chained me to him for years."

"Kieran's father was my greatest enemy; Crown Prince of the people who'd been attacking and slaughtering mine. King by the time I escaped." She didn't know what made her suddenly share this, but it felt like the thing to do. Her sister had told her something deeply personal and troubling; it seemed only right to meet candor with candor. Besides, Rachel and Rebecca had been two peas in a pod as children, as close as two sisters could possibly be. There was no amount of time that could strain their relationship. "I was captured in battle and kept as a slave for around a year and a half."

"How did the other three come about?" She smirked again, shoving her wild red hair back off her face impatiently. "Even when we were kids, I'd have bet just about anything that you're gayer than a rainbow, so how do you have so many kids?"

Rachel laughed, rolling her eyes. "Political marriage gave me Senna - born in a dungeon, thanks to me being pregnant during the battle and not knowing it yet. She was smuggled home to her father after she was born. I made a friend in that Hellhole, Emil, and he'd been raising Caspian; he's not his biological father, but that never mattered, just like it didn't matter to me that I didn't give birth to him. That boy's just as much my son as Kieran. We were supposed to go back to my home when we escaped, but something went screwy and we ended up on Achlys, instead, where I met my girlfriend and we all decided to just settle and raise the boys."

"So you cheated on your husband?" Rebecca's grin was teasing - and, thank god, reached her eyes at last! - but Rachel still threw an acorn at her when she said, "You whore!"

"I never saw him again! And he wouldn't have given a shit," she explained with a laugh. "I was, like, his third or fourth wife. And like I said, it was purely political; I was Queen, he was my advisor, he wanted power and I wanted an heir. Enter Senna, who boosted Raziel from random noble to father of the next Queen, and assured that there would be someone to take the reins if I died."

"So..." Her sister began ticking points off on her fingers as she spoke. "Shrewd political moves gave you Senna, you're co-parenting Caspian with a friend, we won't speak of Kieran's origins... How and why was Cassie a thing?"

Rachel shook her head, gaping at her. "A thing? That's nice, Beck. Real nice."

"Gods, you've missed so many cultural shifts, dude." Rebecca shook her head right back, trying not to laugh at her. "Just answer the question, old lady."

"Emil and I, and my girlfriend Trinity, all talked and decided to hell with conventionality; we all love each other, so we'll all be together. Em's my exception, I guess; the only man I've ever been attracted to even after seeing him naked. Our boys were grown, Senna was long gone, we'd made a whole new life for ourselves, so we decided to have another baby. Enter Cassie." Rachel sighed, staring off into space. "And now she's grown, Kieran's back in that awful place trying to turn it around, married to a great girl, Caspian's there with them to help..."

Though she had a feeling she knew the answer, the vampire asked softly, "And your lovers?"

"...Dead. Cassie - Cassie Wade, I mean - died in prison, Trin and Em were killed in the second war." A bitter smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. "Kieran and Cas are running a third."

"There's always another fucking war," Rebecca grumbled. "I've watched so many of them come and go, fought in two, myself... It never really ends."

[brideofedoras]

Under Covers, pt 2

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mentions of masturbation, arousal and sex dreams

Word count: 2900+

Under Covers

Thank you all for the lovely responses to Under Covers, I know that surprise twist was evil of me (but I don’t regret it, it just felt right!).  I received a few requests for a part two, and a suggestion for it to be Cooper’s POV.

So... here is Uncer Covers, as told by Cooper...

And, because I’m just as horny for William Cooper, there will be a part three!  Mwuah!  Love all of ya!

@urban-trek-thru-middle-earth​ @emily-strange​ @nora-hewlett​ @to-boldly-nope​ @pandaqueen7799​ @bakerstreethound​ @portals-to-a-new-world​ @below-average-fangirl​ @writerdee1701​ @ladyreapermc​

Cooper reached for the travel mug in the console… but his fingers curled around nothing.  A quick glance away from the early morning traffic showed an empty cup holder.  “Well, that’s just typical,” he snarled grumpily.

His morning was off to a fan-fucking-tastic start, with a burnt Hot Pocket, his much-needed second cup of coffee forgotten on his desk at the office, and a restless night filled with some incredibly hot dreams of the only person he could one-hundred percent trust at work.

Ember.

She was a blessing, whether she knew it or not.  Quiet, intelligent, efficient, with an uncanny ability to anticipate his needs.  Beautiful.  Sexy.  A big flirt who had done a lot for his ego and self-esteem these past few months, and making him remember he was still a red-blooded man.

Last night’s solo sex on the back deck with a cigar and bourbon, fantasizing about having her on the glider swing or spread out on the patio table… bent over the deck railing…  

“Down, dammit,” he glared down at his crotch when he felt that familiar stir.  

Evidently that quick wank in the shower earlier hadn’t helped.  

God, he hated waking up horny.

It was going to be a dreadfully, painfully, long weekend, he thought as he signalled to pull into the parking lot for Ember’s apartment building.

When the file detailing the op landed on his desk he had immediately known he would assign Ember as his partner.  She did not have a lot of field experience, and had zero undercover experience, but she was a quick learner and self-sufficient.  He’d seen her wipe the floor during hand-to-hand combat training under Kordesky (he was supposed to be teaching that course, but at the time he’d been recovering from busted ribs from an op gone wrong).  Men three times her size hadn’t stood a chance.

It had both terrified him and turned him on.

But an entire weekend, maybe a tad longer, pretending to be a couple on a romantic getaway to nail a bad guy, with her…

Fuck, I’m screwed.

With a frustrated sigh he plucked his phone from the holder on the dash (strictly for GPS reasons) and pulled up the last text thread.

I’m outside.

His hazel eyes flickered to the old limestone building built in the ‘30s and remodeled, what, twenty years ago, into an apartment complex, wondering which part of the structure her apartment was in.  

His phone chirped in his hand.

Be down in a minute.

He groaned, his eyes dropping to his zipper once more.  I won’t.

If he survived the weekend, it would be a miracle.

He started to put the phone back on the clip when he realized he needed to tell her he wasn’t in his SUV.

Black Mercedes sedan.

Her response popped up a second later.  No Porsche?

He chuckled.  “No, no Porsche,” he mused out loud.  He’d thought about it, the sweet little Roadster the CIA had confiscated a while back.  Gorgeous car… but not ideal for a six hour drive to North Carolina.

Didn’t want to look like a man going through a midlife crisis, he texted back.

A classic sports car and a sexy young woman would most definitely make him look like he was.  Well… so would the Mercedes, but it drove like a dream and wouldn’t kill his back or ass for the long trip.

You’re too young for a midlife crisis.

“Oh, you’re flirting, Sweetheart,” he groaned.  He shook his head to clear it before pressing his hand hard against his crotch.  “Behave, dammit, stay down.”

He had no idea when he’d find the opportunity to handle that particular issue.  The little bungalow on the beach they’d be calling home for the next few days only had one bedroom.  Light, airy, lots of windows and a door opening out onto a veranda, a king size bed--

He pulled himself from his thoughts when he saw Ember step out of the building.

“Fuck.”

God damn was he screwed.

Ember was dressed in a snug, scoop neck tank top and cutoff shorts that showed off her long legs.

Legs he’d dreamed of wrapped around his hips.  Draped over his shoulders.  Hooked over his elbows.

“Now is not the time to rehash your favorite fantasies, William,” he scolded himself as he climbed out of the car.  He took the opportunity to adjust himself and straighten his plaid shirt to try to conceal the ridge in his jeans before he walked around to the trunk to open it.

Did she nearly trip over her own feet?

He kept that question to himself as he took her suitcase from her and stowed it next to his.  He carefully shut the lid before turning his attention on Ember.

“Get in the car, Kid.”

She immediately bristled before storming off.

Oh shit, he sighed heavily as he watched her yank open the passenger door.  He quickly rounded the car to climb into the driver’s seat.  “Easy there, Tiger,” he looked over at her.  “You okay?”

She shut the door and buckled up before taking in a deep breath.  

Yeah, Cooper, you hit the wrong damn button by accident, he realized.  Better salvage this and fast!

“Yeah.  Sleepless night.”  Her smile was faker than the phony IDs his buddy had made for them in high school.

Yup, wrong button.  

He frowned in sympathy.  “Worried about the op?”  He was giving her a bullshit excuse for her temper flareup and he knew it, but he also knew Ember would not admit him calling her “kid” had upset her.    

Her smile fell, allowing him to see how tired she was.  “You could say that.”

“You’ve got the easy job,” he reminded her as he started the car.  “Look pretty, flirt, be coy.”

Inwardly he flinched.  Wow, Cooper.  That was smooth.

“You call that easy?”  The blush staining her cheeks was downright adorable.  “I can’t flirt my way out of a paper bag if I tried!”

He grinned.  Either she’s in denial about flirting or she’s clueless that she’s a natural.

“‘Your tie brings out the gold in your eyes, Boss’ ring a bell?  Or ‘You’ve got a bit of powdered sugar on your cheek’?”

God, he could still feel her hand cupping his jaw and her thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

Her blush grew brighter.  “A compliment and a gentle warning before a meeting are hardly flirting!”

“You were flirting,” he grinned even more.  “And the plate of extra cookies left over from your Christmas dinner?”

“Figured your kids would like some cookies, and I had more than enough left over!”

Uh-huh.  A whole plate piled high with monster cookies, his favorite fucking kind?

“That’s what break rooms are for,” he couldn't help but chuckle.  “Pretty sure Sanderson would ask you to marry him if you bring baked goods in.”  

Please forgive me.

Ember shuddered and turned a little green.  “Pretty sure he lives in his parents’ basement.”

“Yeah, he has that personality,” he slowed for a stoplight.  “Not your type, then?”

Please say no.  You deserve so much better than him.  Or me.

“Have you ever heard me flirt with him?”

He busted out laughing at her sassy rebuttal.  There’s my girl, he struggled to get the mirth under control so he could speak again.  “No, no, I haven’t,” he shot her a look.  “You can give Wilkes a run for her money in the ice queen department when you’re dealing with him.” 

She finally smiled.  “I hope you’re giving me a compliment and not calling me a frigid bitch,” her own voice was laced with a touch of humor.

“She’s the frigid bitch and she wears that badge with pride,” he pointed out.  “She made Sanderson cry a couple of times.  You’re at least polite.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be,” she mused.  “And I don’t flirt.”

Oh, Honey.

“‘You’re too young for a midlife crisis’?”  He struggled to keep another grin at bay.

“Not flirting!”  She twisted away from him.

But not before he glimpsed the splotching blush dotting her chest.

His mind went south before he could stop it.  Does she blush like that after an orgasm?

God dammit.

“What is it, then?”  He mentally shook himself to get his mind back on the conversation.  He winced when her head thumped against the window.

“The truth.  Thirty-five is still young,” she sighed.  “Age is only a number.  What matters is how you feel inside.  Take Grandpa-- er, Henry, for example.  He’s eighty-five, still working downstairs, running circles around the younger desk jockeys.”

“I need to find out what his secret is,” he joked.  Sometimes he needed more energy to make it through the day.

“No!”  Her voice squeaked.  “You don’t want to do that!”

His jaw dropped as he looked at her.  “Wait, he really has a secret?  What is it?”  He needed to know.

She blushed again.  “Nope,” she shook her head as if she were trying to shake off an unpleasant thought.  “It was bad enough overhearing it.  I’m not telling you.”

Oh.

Must’ve been something dirty if she was blushing like that.

“H-how long of a drive is it again?”

Did her voice just crack?

“Six hours if the traffic isn’t bad,” he answered.

“Straight through, no stops?” 

He chuckled.  “I’ll make a couple of stops, I’m not a monster.  You have breakfast yet?”  He glanced over to see her shake her head.

“There’s a coffee shop up ahead,” she pointed out.  “They have donuts and breakfast sandwiches.”

His stomach grumbled quietly.    “Any recommendations?”

“The omelette sandwiches are to die for,” she paused to cover her yawn.  “They come with sausage and cheese.  You’ve already had their donuts.”

His mind tripped back to the massive powdered sugar donut that had led to her soft touch that fateful afternoon.  His unintentional groan at that memory bordered on sinful.  “Might have to order a dozen for this weekend.”

“Better make it two dozen.  I’m not crawling out of bed before ten a.m. this weekend.”

No, down, he stubbornly told himself off at the images popping into his head.  “You’ve already claimed the bed, huh?”  He inwardly grimaced at the husky and teasing tone in his voice.  Who’s flirting now, Cooper?

“Figured it was a given since I’m a woman and you seem like the kind of guy who would take the couch.”

She had his number.  Damn, she really is good.  “Sweetheart, my back can’t take sleeping on couches even for a little catnap anymore,” he signaled to turn into the lot for the coffee shop.  

Liar, he ratted on himself.  He’d spent too many nights on the couch before Michelle asked for a divorce when she finally decided she couldn’t take being a CIA agent’s wife anymore.  If it weren’t for his kids he would not have gotten the couch for his new place.

“The bed’s a king, isn’t it?  We could share it.  I promise to be on my best behavior.”

He coughed to cover a strangled groan.  Share a bed with Ember?  All weekend?

Fuck.

“What?”  She asked.

“You’re flirting again.”

“No, I wasn’t,” she frowned at him.  “My brain loses its filter when I’m running on very little sleep.”

“Always an excuse,” he rolled his window down.  “What kind of coffee?”

“Just ask for the Emberleigh special, they’ll know.”

Cooper was pretty sure the barista, Tomer, was eye-fucking him.  Not the first time that had ever happened, but it sure as hell was the first time a guy was so bold about it.  And the not-so-subtle looks he was giving Ember were poorly hidden.  

Oh, yes, I’m gonna be the topic of conversation the next time she stops in, he chuckled to himself.  It was both amusing and flattering.

By the time they hit the freeway his two breakfast sandwiches were demolished and she was barely finished with hers.  He shifted to get comfortable.  Long trips by car were never fun, the miles monotonous and the seat unforgiving.  

Flying had not been an option.  The department could not justify using the jet for a weekend op, which left commercial flights.  He personally hated that option.  Checking weapons and other tools of the trade through security was a headache he did not want to deal with.  It was easier to drive.

“Should we go over the parameters again?”

It never hurt to go over plans a few times, and with this being Ember’s first undercover op he wanted her prepared.

The breathy “no” from her caught him off guard.

He shot her a quick glance.  “Seat reclines if you want to take a quick nap,” he swallowed the groan at the mental images of her stretched out on her back in that leather seat, him leaning over her…  He shifted in his seat when his jeans grew a little tight again.  “If you want to turn the radio on, go for it,” he cleared his throat (and his head).  “I listen to just about anything.  Except for the new crap.”

“Yeah, I can’t listen to that stuff, either.”

Thank god.

“I can Bluetooth my phone if that’s okay?”  She asked softly.

“Go for it,” he nodded.

When the opening guitar licks for one of his favorite songs began to play he grinned.

God, if this song wasn’t the ultimate euphemism for sex.  And the tempo.  Jesus Christ.

And the fact that Ember had the Scorpions on whatever playlist she had?  His crush on her grew that much more.

It reminded him of his high school days, his first car, T-tops off and cruising the strip rocking out to AC/DC, pretty girl in the passenger seat.

Sometimes he missed those days, not having any responsibilities other than keeping his grades up for football.  

He drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel and sang along off-key.  He found himself really getting into the music and tried to tone it down, but after catching Ember trying not to stare he decided to put his all into it.

And all bets were off when his favorite Def Leppard song came on.  

They played random road trip games when he wasn’t rocking out.  Counting state license plates.  Slug bug (or punch buggie as his little Katie loved to holler, especially when she saw the blue ones).  Billboard alphabet.  Count the road kill (gruesome but it worked).  I spy.

When she yawned for the tenth time in about as many minutes he realized why she was playing the games.  She was trying to stay awake despite repeated suggestions to recline the seat back and take a nap.  He even threatened to sing her to sleep.

She stubbornly insisted she needed to stay awake to help him watch traffic.

Somewhere along the way she did fall asleep.  He smiled to himself when she sighed in her sleep and shifted to get comfortable in her seat.  As carefully as he could he reached over to slip her sunglasses off and laid them on the dash.

No way was he waking her up any time soon.  She needed to rest up.  

He was humming along to “In The Air Tonight” and miming the drum solo above the steering wheel (it was a federal offense to not perform the drum solo) when a soft whine came from the passenger seat.  He quickly glanced over at the distressed sound.  “You okay over there?”  He pressed the button on the steering wheel to turn the volume down even more for the radio.

She shifted in her seat, head lolling toward him before a quiet snore reached his ears.  He chuckled and shook his head before he turned back to watch the road.  They were ten minutes from the nearest fast food restaurant and despite still being full from breakfast he needed to go to the bathroom and stretch his legs.  He just didn’t have the heart to wake Ember up quite yet.

A few minutes later she drew in a deep breath and moaned.

That moan sounded suspiciously like his last name.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Ember shifted and moaned again.  “We… shouldn’t…”

He felt his cock begin to stir at the soft little sounds coming from her.  Sounds he had fantasized about more than once.

“Oh… god…” she squirmed.

Fuck, his jeans were uncomfortably tight.  Cooper flipped the turn signal and checked his mirrors before exiting the freeway.  

Her moans and gasps were more frequent now, with his name whined out a few times.  He drew in a shaky breath, that last guttural moan damn near making him cum right there.  

It would be cruel to wake her up, he thought as he pulled into McDonald’s parking lot.  But he could not sit in the car and listen to her have a sex dream about him.

“Oh… god… Cooper…”

The way she was panting.

The way his cock was throbbing dangerously.

He hated himself, for having no choice but to listen to her pretty little sex dream sounds and for waking her up before she could…

No.  Do.  Not.  Think.  About.  It.

“Ember,” he gently squeezed her shoulder before he chickened out.  “Wake up, Sleepyhead,” he murmured gruffly when she blinked her eyes open.  “We’re stopping for lunch.”

She looked disoriented, and he kicked himself for interrupting that dream.

He pulled away, breaking contact before his body could overrule his brain and pounce on her.  “I’m surprised you fell asleep with my singing.  Never worked on my kids when they were little.”

When she remained quiet he looked over.  “No comment?”  

“No!”  Damn, that blush was beautiful on her.  “N-no, I… I guess a smooth car ride combined with a sleepless night put me to sleep.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” he agreed as he pocketed the keys.  “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”

[megalony]

Detox- Part 3

Another part to my latest Roger Taylor series which I have gained some lovely feedback for.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac

Series taglist: @killerqueenbucky @the-ridge-farm-raven

Warning: Mentions of drug use.

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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

"Please..."

Tears began to fall from Roger's eyes as his hands trembled like someone was vigorously shaking him. Both his hands were enclosing one of Brian's that he was holding very tightly to try and get his friend to agree with him but even he knew his attempts were not going to work.

The guitarist felt tears welling in his eyes as he stared down at one of his oldest friends who was in absolute agony. They had just put Roger into a coma so he didn't go through the symptoms and effects of withdrawal from heroin and yet he looked like he was being put through those symptoms right now. He was trembling, a light coat of sweat was beginning to glisten on his exposed skin and his eyes were red-rimmed. Roger had been awake for one day and he was close to breaking. He was dangling on the edge of a cliff and if no one helped him then he was going to let go and fall into the crashing waves below.

Everyone knew that Roger was not making a threat out of pain or agony, he was making a threat that he was willing to go through with because he had been lied and ignored before. If they didn't give Roger painkillers soon or treated him for his back then he was likely to do himself in. He was in a hospital and he was a biology major. He knew the tricks of the trade and when they had him in a room with medication in every draw and a crash cart by his bed, they were leaving him in a room full of goodies just asking to be tried out.

Six months of agony had left Roger vulnerable to needing an escape as soon as one became available. Which was why he was now begging for Brian to get him drugs. The doctors weren't giving him any painkillers because they needed him clean for the tests they were running. They had taken two blood samples this morning, they had done an x-ray, MRI and CT scans of his back and spinal cords.

Roger wanted any form of drugs that he could get his hands on now, he didn't care what tests they needed to do. He couldn't stay clean, he needed to be under the influence of anything, hell he would even drown himself in alcohol if it would take the pain away.

"Rog, they'll give you something soon. You've had nearly all your tests now." Brian's words were not as soothing or calming as either of them thought they were going to be. He only told Roger that he was being denied relief by everyone around him and that hurt. Roger wanted Brian to get him something or he would just ask whoever else came through the door. The drummer would call for the media and give them a story if they gave him something for the pain.

"I- I have a stash under the bathroom sink... t-there's still some in my green jacket at the studio. Or ask Robbie... Bri, please, just something to take it away." Roger leaned his head back against the pillows that were surrounding him. He had two under his back and about three under his head to try and ease the pain but he needed meds, not feathers.

He watched Brian's jaw slack at the sudden revelations but Roger couldn't find it in himself to care. He only cared about Brian either getting a doctor to help or going and grabbing something from his stash at home and bringing it back to give to him. Roger would screw up every test they did with a small dose of heroin if Brian would give it to him because he was in that much pain. But Brian couldn't do that. He couldn't ruin Roger's health and potentially kill him, he would sit by his side and make sure he didn't do anything stupid and he would chase after the doctors to make them give him something as soon as they could. But he couldn't help or encourage Roger's drug abuse anymore.

"Robbie gives you the drugs? Fucking hell, Rog. I'll call Fred and he'll get rid of the stash in your jacket because the studio can't know about that. (Y/n) will search the house and clear it out and I'll bloody kill Robbie myself."

Robbie was one of the tour managers who helped to set up the sounds and stages when they went on tour. He also hung around the studio a lot when they were making their albums. He was a good friend up until now. Brian wouldn't have him fueling Roger's addiction because if Roger had drugs again he could kill himself without meaning to, Robbie needed to know this. He shouldn't even be dealing drugs in the first place.

"No! I told you so you could get me them! I'll call Robbie if you don't-"

"Stop it." Brian snapped. Roger should have known Brian would only raid his stashes and get rid of them, he wasn't going to play along anymore. He had watched Roger get high and drunk and be pain-free due to that for too long. He was taking a stand now. "You've detoxed. If you have one small amount of heroin your body will break down because you can't tolerate it anymore. You will overdose and I am not being at fault for that Roger."

"I wish I'd died in that coma." Roger spoke slowly, punctuating every word and syllable that passed through his chapped lips as he kept the eye contact with Brian so he knew Roger wasn't having a tantrum. He was being deadly serious which was proven by the malice in his eyes and the sudden tsunami of tears flooding his face.

If Roger had passed away he wouldn't have woken up in more agony than he had been in the car crash. He wouldn't have had to sit here for hours and have every test in the book whilst being two seconds away from wanting to kill himself. He would have been put out of his misery and not left to suffer like this because everyone had let him down at one point or another. (Y/n) and the band fueled his addiction, the doctors wouldn't give him the medication he needed for his pain management and he had reverted to drugs because of that. Miami had brought this on for Roger's own good but it wasn't doing him much good right now.

Robbie had been the only one who helped in Roger's eyes because he never gave Roger enough to overdose but he kept him in supply and never asked why. He shouldn't have been dealing drugs but he had taken Roger's pain away.

"Your life may not mean anything to you but to us, you are everything."

Brian brushed the tears out of his eyes as he left the room, begging for Roger not to do anything stupid whilst he was in there alone. He couldn't let Roger die and he couldn't have Roger thinking his life was that worthless and agonising that it needed to end. Brian needed Roger in his life, he provided that stability for Brian because he was one of Brian's rocks. His world would shift and gravity would be lost if Roger died.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I-is this the last test?" Roger spoke through gritted teeth as he tried to keep his eyes locked onto (Y/n)'s. Trying so hard to let her features captivate his attention like they normally did but the pain was overriding everything. He couldn't focus on her dazzling eyes, her button nose or her lips her even her cheekbones anymore. All he could see was the colour red swimming in front of his vision from his back.

He had a few pillows propped up behind his head as he was now laid on his side facing (Y/n). A nurse was stood behind him, peering closely as she got ready to perform a lumbar puncture. The moment she told Roger what procedure he was going to have he had wailed like a newborn. His back was shredded to pieces. His spine felt like it had been severed and dislocated in every column. His nerves were sparking like the electrical impulses were getting cut off and it was torture. Even the shredded muscles in his back felt like they were withering and dying. He could feel fragments of muscle just dropping from around his spine and withering into nothing like the fallen petal from a rose.

His back was causing him a headache and that was making him even more agitated and it was getting worse from the sobs he couldn't help but let out. They had to give him meds now or he would act out until they sedated him.

A lumbar puncture was a needle pressed straight into one of the spaces of the vertebrae in between the bones of his spine. They took the fluid in there and checked for anything abnormal or wrong but they were going straight for the affected area. They were putting a needle through the swelling skin covering his spine, straight through the bruises and into his spine that was damaged.

They'd already had to give him medication when he was in a coma and drain some of the blood that had formed beneath the skin because it could cause an infection. So his back was swollen even worse and battering away like someone was continuously hitting his spine with a baseball bat.

"I'm not sure Mr Taylor. Your doctor will be in soon to talk to you about the tests, he'll sort out your medication for you."

(Y/n) reached for Roger's hand but he batted her away, his eyes suddenly bulging from their sockets the moment he felt the tip of the needle puncture through his skin. When it hit the swelling his eyes managed to go back into their sockets so he could clamp them shut. Curling up just that little bit more as he began to shiver. When the needle pushed further, Roger groaned which ended in a choked sound as it pushed further. As soon as Roger felt the needle getting to his spine, he felt the air leaving his lungs begin to get cut up into little pieces that scratched against his already raw throat. His voicebox churned the simple air into one of the worst screams he had ever let loose which he was unsure actually tore from his own lips.

"Take it out!" Roger belted the words as if he was singing along to his favourite song in the car but his tone showed he was not singing in delight. He was screaming in torture from one of the smallest needles he had ever seen. Such a small pinprick went straight through to his spine but he would never have thought it would hurt on a level such as this.

Roger's head started to feel foggy like it was filling with water that each thought had to swim through in order to get heard. He could feel the room spinning very slowly around him in an anticlockwise direction so much so that he could almost feel the bed lifting from the floor as his head swayed.

"Take it out!" Roger repeated the words that broke off into the cry of a dying man. This shouldn't take this long, the fluid dripped straight through the needle into the vile she held and there wasn't a lot of fluid to collect. If she didn't take it out soon she would find Roger's hand reaching around to do it for her. Roger's fist bashed against the murky cream plastic of the bedframe just as the nurse started to pull the needle from his tortured skin. As soon as Roger felt the foreign instrument leaving his skin he let out the most animalistic growl that vibrated against his throat in all the wrong ways.

His hand continued to bash against the frame of the bed until his knuckles split in a feeble attempt to force his mind to focus on the fresh pain. The brain automatically focused on the newest source of pain which allowed Roger to focus on his hand instead of his back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Leaning her head back against the wall, (Y/n) glanced up to Brian and Freddie who were sharing words that her mind hadn't been interested enough to take note of. After the lumbar puncture, Roger had been sedated when he wouldn't calm down which was very understandable in his current form of pain. But something told (Y/n) that even though he was in immense agony, Roger knew that if he attacked himself like that they would have to sedate him. Either way he was only just beginning to wake up now and everyone thought it would be better to leave him be.

The doctor would be down soon enough to give Roger the results of each test he had and to finally put him on the medication he so desperately needed. But until then, (Y/n), Freddie and Brian were waiting outside so they were not at the brute end of Roger's temper.

As Brian and Freddie continued to share words that were becoming rather rowdy as if they were starting an argument, (Y/n) turned her head to the side so she wasn't watching them anymore. Her head tipping in acknowledgement as she smiled kindly at John who pointed to Roger's room before slowly heading inside. Braving the room that no one else fancied going into for the time being.

Just as Brian was about to retaliate to whatever Freddie just said, his brows furrowed as he turned to look at (Y/n).

"John?" He questioned, pointing to the room asking for confirmation that he hadn't imagined the bassist walking past them. (Y/n) nodded her head, wondering why Brian looked confused or as if he had just woken up and didn't know where he was. "What was he taking in?"

"Rog left his jacket at the studio, asked Deaky to bring it back for him. Why?" (Y/n) shrugged her shoulders as she spoke, her head pounding from lack of sleep and the trauma of the day. Roger had gone through so many tests today and each one had made him feel worse than the last. He didn't deserve any of this and yet they were putting him through it. She didn't know what any of them would do if Roger wasn't on medication by the end of the night. They would surely have to resort to desperate measures to make sure Roger wasn't tempted to do anything stupid. Especially after Brian confided in them all that Roger seemed to be feeling suicidal or on the verge of suicidal.

"Green jacket..." He muttered under his breath. He hadn't been seeing things, John had walked in there with Roger's dark green jacket which the drummer confided in Brian held some of his heroin. Roger was going to take it. 

Brian's face fell like the strings holding it together had been severed as his shoulders sank down an inch or two before he suddenly turned in the direction of Roger's room. His body suddenly beginning to run, his feet slipping on the newly polished floor as Freddie and (Y/n) scrambled to follow him. Both unsure what he was doing or what was happening.

"He's got heroin in that jacket!"

Roger was going to overdose.

[shutupandshipit]

With Stars in Your Eyes, Heart on Your Sleeve - Ch.6

Summary: Her eyes wide with drink, she slapped both of her hands on either side of his face, squeezing his cheeks until his lips puckered. “Listen to me. Don’t baby him, just help him. Also, he’ll probably accept your help more than you think. Also, give him this.” She shoved a thin cylinder into his chest, waiting until he fumbled his fingers around it to turn back to her laptop.

“What is it?”

“Tell him he can be Daredevil now.”

Chapter: 6/11

Previous <- Chapter 5

Chapter 7 -> Next

Masterpost

Keith groaned loudly drawing Lance's attention away from one of the many stress relievers Pidge always had on hand. He shoved the cube beneath his pillow, scooting into his side, pressing gentle fingers to his cheek.

“Lance?” Keith grumbled, pain clear as a sunny day in his voice.

Warmth enveloped Lance's hand, and he smiled gently. “Right here, mullet, I'm right here. How are you feeling? Groggy? Nauseous? Pukey? If you say pukey, I won't be able to help you.”

“Like I lost four pints of blood in one sitting. How do you think I feel?” He struggled to sit up, growling when Lance pressed a hand to the middle of his chest to keep him in place. He flopped back to the bed like a petulant child. “Quiznak, my leg hurts. What happened to being shoved into healing pods after life threatening injuries?”

“Coran said their malfunctioning, so for now, you have to heal the old fashioned way.” Lance ran his hand over Keith's cheek soothingly, stroking his thumb across his cheekbone. He startled, his face growing warm as he realized what he'd been doing, but Keith hadn't shoved him away, so he remained in place. “They told me to tell you that you're not allowed to move unless it's absolutely necessary. Like showering or using the bathroom, stuff like that. You're confined to bed rest until further notice.”

Keith's face dropped away from his hand, his nose skimming Lance's shoulder. “Of course I would be. How long did they say?”

“I don't know. How quickly do you heal?”

“Hell, I don't know! I've never been hurt this badly!”

“So, let's say a week to be safe. Two at most.” Lance could feel Keith's eyes boring into him, and he had to force down a laugh.

“You can't seriously be serious.”

Raising an eyebrow, he repeated, “Seriously be serious?”

“I'll go completely crazy, Lance. I'll get bed sores. My muscles will atrophy. My body will deteriorate into a puddle of goo. What good will I be to the team then!”

“And you call me a drama queen,” Lance muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Keith quipped back, “You are a drama queen.”

“Then you're my drama king. How's that for irony?”

Snorting, Keith released a string of bubbly laughter. “What irony? I don't think you're using that word right.”

“Well, I don't think you're using your face right,” Lance snapped back haughtily, sitting straight and leaning against the pillow he'd propped against the wall.

“Oh, please explain how I'm supposed to be using my face. You can't even see it!”

The quip stung far less than Lance was expecting, and so, he leaned over Keith again until his nose just barely brushed the tip of Keith's, a sly grin tugging at the corner's of his mouth. “Well, for starter's, kissing me like you mean it instead of running your mouth, or you know, using it for other things that don't involve talking.” He could have sworn he felt heat radiating off of Keith's cheeks as he spluttered.

“I-I am injured! I d-don't think those things are in m-my repertoire at the moment!”

“'Repertoire',” Lance mused, “That's a big word for you. Are you sure you know what it means?” He didn't pull away as Keith pressed a hand to his chest, letting his mouth drift closer. He could feel every exhale that slipped passed Keith's lips.

“Do you?”

“We can sure find out.”

“Lance,” Keith murmured in warning, but before he could continue, a groan slipped passed his lips. “Fuck, that hurts. Did I break my leg?”

“Way to ruin the mood, Kogane, but yes, yes you did.” His voice dropped. “And it's pretty mangled too. Here, hold on.” Sitting back, Lance ran his hands over the bed, bumping against every possible item save for the one he was looking for. The clatter of pills in a bottle drew at his attention. He lunged for the sound, catching the bottle just as it tumbled off the blankets. “Gotcha! Here. Allura said you need to take one every twelve hours for the pain. Also, they're like... antibiotic or something? I didn't really understand everything she was saying, but its supposed to keep you from getting sick.”

“They're not going to do what the others did to me, right?”

Lance handed him a single pill, capping the bottle. “Um... no? I'm not sure. Maybe? God, I hope so. You know you kissed Pidge?”

“Fuck!” Keith shouted, grabbing Lance's shoulder and pulling himself up, “Where?”

“Her cheek. Do you really think either of us would be here to flirt if you had mouth kissed her?” Lance asked flippantly, answering his own question before Keith could come up with a reasonable answer, “No. We'd have been shoved out of an airlock like five hours ago. I don't think she wants her fist kiss to be with you, my man. You should have heard the noise she made though. Utterly pure rage.”

“She's going to kill me in my sleep.”

Shrugging, Lance patted Keith's hand soothingly. “I'm pretty sure she's going to kill all of us in our sleep one day. Except for Hunk... probably.”

“Probably,” Keith mocked.

“Take your damn pill and go back to sleep, mullet.”

Swallowing the pill, Keith groaned again. “You smell terrible. You know that?”

“Well, you don't smell like a basket of rose petals yourself.”

“Shower?”

Lance considered for only a moment before nodding. “Shower,” he agreed, swinging his legs out of the bed.

…..

Showering was, decidedly, the best and worst possible course of action Lance could have allowed Keith to push him into. They had seen each other naked plenty of times before. The showers were communal, and it was nearly impossible not to have caught a glimpse of the others at least once. No, seeing each other naked was not the problem. The problem was that they had never had bare skin pressed against bare skin as Lance held Keith up beneath the warm spray.

They're helpless laughter filled the long room as they slipped and stumbled around each other, scarlet staining their faces and eyes averted as best they could manage. Soap and the plastic they'd used to protect Keith's leg did not help in the slightest, sprawling Lance on his ass halfway through their showering extravaganza right after righting Keith from his slip.

Of course, that was about the time Keith's pills kicked in, and he dissolved into a giggly, loopy version of himself.

He pulled Lance to his feet and pressed close to him, laughing into his skin, lips pressed to his pulse point, his collar bone, his shoulder, back up to his jaw. Either he was oblivious or unconcerned with the way his body simply fit against Lance's.

It was all Lance could do the keep his hands above Keith's waistline.

“Quiznak, Keith,” Lance muttered, drawing Keith back to his feet for the fifth time, fingers clutching low on his sharp hipbones, “You are not making this easy for me. I am just a simple man. I wasn't meant to sit through this trial!”

Keith giggled, actually giggled like a school girl with a newfound crush, leaning heavily into him. He was pressed chest to chest with him as he hooked his chin over Lance's shoulder. “Man. Okay. You're just a teenager like me. We're not men yet. Just teenagers in space. Do you think space sex is different than Earth sex? Do you think its possible to have sex in zero-gravity? I don't think it'd really work. Riding might work or- Oh! Oh! Reverse cowboy! That would be fun!” His words were slurred, his body pliant and loose. He laughed again.

Groaning inwardly, Lance threw his eyes towards the ceiling and thought of everything that was far from a turn-on. He willed the heat flooding south to ebb. “I wouldn't really know, Keith. I don't have anything to compare it to. Let's stop talking about this.”

Keith gasped comically, pushing his hands against Lance's chest. Lance wasn't sure, but he thought maybe Keith could probably see sound at that moment. “Lance, are you... a virgin?” he asked, voice full of wonder, “Was Allura's mouse your first kiss too?”

“No! Allura's mouse was not my first kiss! And what does it matter if I am?” Lance snapped more sharply than he'd meant. Like most things that revolved around his sexuality and his little to no experience, it was a sore spot, but Keith didn't seem to notice the edge to his voice.

“Woooow, that explains so much,” Keith whispered. Suddenly, his voice brightened passed the slurred note and octave from the high he'd acquired. “Am I going to be your first? Lance! Am I going to be your first?”

Lance slapped a hand over his face. The pain reminded him of where they were and why exactly Keith was acting the way he was. “Of sorts. I think it's time we get your back to your room,” he muttered, “God, I hope you don't remember this conversation later.”

“Lance,” Keith cooed plaintively, pawing incessantly at his chest, “Lance, you didn't answer my question.” Before Lance could wrap their towels around their hips, Keith pushed further back from his chest. “Oh, it's Pidge! Or Katie. No, Pidge. Katie goes by Pidge. But Katie is her name too. We call her Pidge though,” he explained to Lance fervently before calling to her, “Hi Pidge, my pain pills made me high. I don't really like the feeling, but I also like it a little. Are you going to take a shower with us? You know, you're just so cute. I wanna hug you and pinch your cheeks!”

“Yes, I can clearly see that you're high, Keith, but high or not, I won't hesitate to drop you if you touch me,” Pidge muttered from the stall beside them, a lilt of laughter softening the serrated edge of her tone, “Really, Lance, praying on an injured man who is higher than anyone has ever had the pleasure of being? That's a low even for you. If you two are going to do anything unseemly though, don't do it in here.” The unmistakable click of a camera shutter rang over the spray of the shower.

“Did you bring a camera in here, Pidge?” Lance spluttered, “And I am not praying on-”

“It's okay, Pidge, I want Lance to do unseemly things to me. I'm really gay, and it's been a little bit, and I like Lance, and he has really nice abs. You should feel them. They're like a washboard.” Keith's fingers slid down his abs, and Lance's breath stuttered out of his chest.

Pidge's gasping breaths spoke to her stifled laughter. “Yes, Keith, that was very obvious. I've known for awhile. Your pining was utterly smothering. And, to answer your question Lance, yes, yes I did. I have to collect blackmail any chance I get. Nothing below the belt though, so don't worry.”

Keith's fingers continuously ran over Lance's abs, dropping lower with each drag.

It was driving Lance absolutely nuts.

“Okay, I think it's time to go,” Lance said urgently as warmth began to pool south of his naval. Flipping off the water, he wrapped a towel around Keith's hips with trembling fingers, ignoring how Keith's fingers never left his stomach. “Come on. Let's go, Keith! Say goodbye to the Pidgeon now.”

“But I don't want to go yet. I want to stay and shower with Pidge,” Keith whined, brushing against Lance's fingers as he reached for the edge of the towel.

Frantically wrapping his own towel around his waist, he grabbed Keith's hands. “No, no, I don't think so. I think it's time to go back to your room and change the bandages on your leg and for you to rest.” He tugged Keith from the stall, stalling his fingers from grabbing for Lance's own towel.

“Yeah, not happening, Kogane. You're not my-” Pidge's words were cut off sharply by her screech of horror. “Keith, I swear to god, if you kiss me a third time, I will make you a girl!”

Keith laughed, Lance pulling at him. “Good thing Lance is bi then! Lance, we're going the wrong way!”

Swiftly turning on a heel, Lance shoved Keith back passed Pidge's stall. Her helpless laughter followed them from the showers and into the dressing room. He had no desire to see what else the pair could get up to. High Keith was already hard enough to deal with without Sober Pidge to complicate the situation.

…..

Keith was snoring, propped up against his chest, when Pidge knocked on the door. She pushed in before he could adjust Keith, sitting on the edge of his bed. Her weight barely made a dent next to theirs. “Okay, so I made this thing,” she started immediately, voice quiet as a whisper, even as excited as she was, “It'll definitely need modifications of course, and it'll be useless when your eyesight comes back, but I thought for the time being while you're blind, we could test it out. It could be useful for places where night vision is impossible, and such. NVG is so finicky, you know, and unreliable at times. Not to mention that it'll totally blind you if the wrong light source is around. Like, take a clear light and red light for instance! You are not walking away without seeing spots if there's a clear light around. And also, your depth perception gets totally fucked.” She was babbling, a stream of messy scientific terms mixed with dumbed down jargon he didn't quite understand slipping from her lips.

He vaguely understood what she was getting at though. Vaguely. Very, very vaguely.

“You know, like Daredevil!”

“Okay,” Lance sighed, rubbing at his forehead, “I need you to slow down, Pidgeon. I barely caught any of that.” He reached out slowly, tentatively searching for her shoulder. When the fabric of her shirt slid beneath his fingers, he grasped at the appendage it covered, grinning. “Let's go outside and talk so we don't wake up Sleeping Beauty. Really, I'm surprised he's not awake already.”

“Right. He's the lightest sleeper out of all of us. Sleeping with you, I'm surprised he gets any sleep at all. Not only do you run your mouth while awake, but you barely shut up in sleep either!” she chirped brightly, standing and stepping away to allow him to swing his legs out of the bed. “Did you know I caught him napping in the common area one time and he nearly cut my throat when I went to poke him.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Okay, sure you did. Also, thanks for the vote of confidence there.” They shuffled into the hall, Pidge barefoot and Lance only bearing long pajama bottoms that were stolen from Keith's drawers. The cuffs of the bottoms brushed the skin just above his ankle. “What did you want to show me?”

“This!” she cried triumphantly, setting something cold and metallic in his hands.

He closed his fingers around it, and he could nearly sense how she bounced in place. A grin pulled at the corners of his lips at the thought.

“I made it after we sent you off with Keith! Or, well, I've been working on it for awhile, but it was kind of on the back burner until I realized its potential implications!”

“Okay, go on.”

“So, it's kind of like echo location! Or like Blue's sonic cannon? But less damaging, and the whistle will reverberate back instead of going through like Blue's does. I mean, I got the idea from Blue, so maybe the sonic cannon can be used for echo location too! Anyway, echo location,” she explained excitedly, her words devolving into fragments, partial statements, and explanatory noises that really didn't help him understand any more than her words were, “So, like, -here put it on, around the ears- like, that liquid blocks electrical signals from your eyes to your brain, but I thought, maybe just maybe, that if it was a different kind of impulse that came from different nerves, I could induce a sort of vague image. Maybe I could reroute some of those impulses to cause imagery through sound instead of light! Like Daredevil! I don't know if it'll work. It kind of worked when I shut down the lights in my room, but I can't be sure it'll be the same with you. It'll probably feel really awkward because the ear piece has to drop so far into the ear, but maybe, it you want, we can try it out. See if it works? I don't know. I just thought it'd be good if it does work. You can get some of your independence back. The cane is still needed to cause more noise, though. More sound waves equals a clearer image, you know. Maybe. Probably? I can't really be sure. Like I said, it only kind of worked for me. And if it works for you, I can hook something similar up to Blue or Black, that way you can see the cockpit and get two way sight back, and-”

Lance reached out, fumbling until he caught hold of Pidge's shoulder again, cutting her off, “Slow. Down. Pidgeon. Before you suffocate. Let's try this out, alright! I'm looking forward to being Daredevil!” he told her brightly. “If this works, you totally have to upgrade my armor. Uh, but before that, can you put that goop stuff in my eyes? Keith was way to high to help out. He tried to kiss them better.”

Pidge laughed. “Sure. Yeah, I can do that.”

…..

“Pidge, oh my god,” Lance whispered, words slow and drawn out as he rhythmically tapped his cane out in front of him. “Pidge! This is amazing! You are an absolute genius!” He swung towards her, a fuzzy, indistinct outline of her presenting itself as she laughed delightedly.

He was having a hard time explaining to even himself what he was seeing though, or how he was seeing really. It was less like he was seeing her and more like he was hearing her entire presence. With every burst of laughter that she let loose, he saw her form as the sound rippled through her body. He was the one seeing sound instead of Keith, and he had to keep himself from laughing.

Carefully, he pressed his palm to her cheek, a grin splitting across his face. His words were pure awe as he whispered, “Pidge, I can see you. I can see you! This is... this is amazing! This is amazing...” Hot tears tracked down his cheeks, his knees failing him as he slid to the ground. Hard wracking sobs shook his shoulders, and the indistinct images smeared as his vision normally would with tears. They wobbled and distorted, curving around and around. There was too much noise, too many sounds waves coming from his person to interpret.

“Lance,” Pidge murmured worriedly, her hand smoothing across his shoulders, “It's alright, Lance. It's going to be okay.”

“I thought I'd never get to see again,” he hiccuped, salt slicking his lips and water running from his nose, “I thought... Pidge, this is so amazing. I never thought- I- This is the best thing anyone has ever down for me. I don't- I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you.” He hiccuped violently, laughter following the shudder of his tears. “I'm a fucking mess.”

“No,” she said, her voice soft as she stroked her sleeves over his cheeks hesitantly, wiping at his tears, “No, you're just Lance, and you don't have to repay me. I know that if I ever needed anything, if I were in your position, you'd do everything in your power to help me. It's how friends work, how family works. Everyday I'm thankful for you and everyone on this ship. If it weren't for you guys, I probably would've gone completely mental by now.”

Lance grinned, leaning into her palm unconsciously. “No, you're Pidge, you would have made it without us. You're a superhero.”

“I'm not so sure sometimes,” she said, voice solemn but her smile was still present along side it, “but I don't have to wonder because you were all there for me. We'll get through this, Lance, just like we always do. If we weren't fighters, there's no way we would have defeated Zarkon. There's no way the lions would have chosen us to pilot them.”

“This is probably the first time I've ever completely understood anything you've told me.”

The door to Lance's room hissed open, and the pair stiffened as Keith padded into the hall. Padded wasn't exactly the right verb. It was more of a shuffle mixed with a limp, but he carefully lowered himself beside them, radiating heat as he pressed into Lance's side. “You weren't in the room, so I came to find you,” he murmured groggily, his words still gently slurred from the pain meds, but more conscious than they'd been in the shower.

His thumb stroked beneath Lance's eye. “You've been crying. I don't like to see you cry. It hurts. My Lance is happy and smiley and... and playful and flirty, and I will do everything in my power to keep that Lance around.” His hand cupped the cheek Pidge's fingers had fallen away from, pressing a different kind of warmth into his skin. He pressed a chaste kiss to Lance's mouth despite its wetness.

“Keith, are you still high?” Pidge asked, all wry humor as he pulled away.

“A little, yeah.”

“Figured. PDA is far from your style.” Lance watched through the hazy image Pidge's device produced as she stood, and he wondered how he'd never noticed just how small she was. “I'm going to bed. Keep that for now, Lance. I'll make modifications to it later.”

“Okay, and Pidge?” Lance said before she could turn away.

She paused. “Yeah?”

He pulled her down into a tight hug. “Thanks. For everything.”

She returned the hug, trembling just slightly. “You're family, Lance. I'd do anything for you.”

Then she was gone, and he was helping Keith back to his feet. “Let's go back to bed, Sleeping Beauty.”

…..

“Keith, you need to take your meds,” Lance told him sternly, holding the small pill out towards Keith.

“No, I don't,” Keith muttered stubbornly, turning away from Lance despite the throbbing of his leg. He wanted nothing more than to slip into comfortable oblivion, but he didn't want to go to breakfast with Pidge's eyes on him and her pointed, barely veiled jokes at his expense. Granted, he'd be high and wouldn't care, but he'd remember, mostly. Just like he sort of remembered the shower, and kissing Lance's eyelids and making a complete idiot of himself. He remembered enough to make him groan in horror. He'd rather not wake up to something he wouldn't be able to live through next time. “I'm fine. My leg doesn't hurt at all.”

“That is a bold lie!” Lance lunged forward, pushing Keith back into the bed and grabbing his jaw in a way that was both firm and gentle at the same time. “I know you're in pain. Just take it! It protects you from infections and viruses and other junk like that too! You need it!”

“No, I don't!” Struggling against Lance's full body weight, he forced down the groan that rose in his throat as he nudged at his leg. Black spots bloomed in his vision. Nausea twisted his stomach. “Fuck,” he hissed beneath his breath.

“See? You are in pain! Just take it!”

“No!”

“Take it!”

“I don't want to!”

“Why? Seriously, I don't understand. I'd love to get high for a little while and not have to worry about anything.” Squeezing his eyes closed, Keith shoved Lance's hand away again, but this time it went easily. His body weight disappeared, and the bed dipped as he sat back. Concern colored his voice as he whispered, “What's wrong?”

“I don't... I don't like waking up and only barely remembering what happened over the passed hours, what I've said and done. I don't like not being in control. Like the shower. I remember up until halfway through it, then everything is fuzzy. I remember some things and don't remember others. There's holes in my memory. I'm sure I said something that should be important, maybe, or that you said. I don't like that feeling, okay? I don't like forgetting.”

“Okay, okay,” Lance murmured, his hands returning, empty and soft as they pressed to Keith's face, “I'll talk to Allura about something less psychedelic, alright?” He grinned, leaning in closer. “It's probably best you forgot what happened in the shower. You said some pretty embarrassing things. Also, Pidge was there. She heard everything. She also saw you trying to jump my bones.”

Keith spluttered, shoving his hands against Lance's face. “You're lying! I didn't try to screw you in the shower!”

“You so did! And if I didn't have the moral compass of a mother of six, I would have let you, but as it is, I don't have sex with people under the influence.”

“You don't have sex at all, Lance,” Keith quipped back.

It was Lance's turn to splutter. “I thought you said you didn't remember what you said last night!”

“I don't, but I specifically remember something about being your first time and you being a virgin of sorts, and feeling...” His wry grin fell away, sliding over Lance's face. “What did you mean by that? It doesn't... it doesn't sound good.”

“It isn't.”

Keith stared at him silently, willing him to divulge his hurt, but silently hoping it wouldn't hurt him more. When only silence stretched between them, he murmured, “You don't have to tell me. I won't ask again.”

“No, no, it's not... I'm just trying to put it into words.” He flopped onto his back, staring up at the ever familiar ceiling. “It wasn't... It's not easy for me to talk about.”

“Not easy to talk about? You? There's nothing you can't talk about.”

“There are... There are some things...” Lance told him, his voice quiet, just a whisper of breath. “This is one of them.”

Keith bit his lip, turning on his side with a grimace to press into his side. “I didn't mean to-”

“It's fine, just... let me get my thoughts in order here...”

Keith was quiet, allowing Lance to gather himself. He watched the crease between his eyebrows deepen second by second, his clouded blue eyes narrowing slowly. Carefully, he reached forward, running his finger down the crease until it was smoothed out.

Releasing a slow sigh, Lance closed his eyes. “When I was living in Cuba, I was actually pretty successful in my dating. I had girlfriends, boyfriends, best friends, but no matter how many people I dated, I always returned to this one guy. He was charismatic and lively, charming and caring. His smile could tame seas. His laugh could stop a crowd. He was everything I wanted to be. Handsome, hot, so stupidly attractive that it physically hurt to look at him. I felt blessed that he let me come back over and over again, like a puppy returning to its home.” Nostalgia and longing dug deep furrows into his face, darkening the circles that perpetually marred the skin beneath his eyes. “He convinced me to do a lot of things, things I would never do, even now. We were friends, boyfriends, confidants, but I could never take the next step. That's something I have never really been able to do with someone, never really cared to, to be honest.”

Interest pricked at Keith, and he couldn't stop himself as he asked, “Really? Never?” He thought back to the flushes of desire he'd vigorously gotten throughout the early years of his puberty, how they had consumed him with white hot heat. He tried to imagine never having felt them, but that seemed to surpass the ability of his imagination.

“Really. It was the company that I enjoyed, not the body, but that wasn't where his interests lied. He took his time, tried to get me to come to the decision on my own, but patience was never one of his virtues. It was a few weeks before I was supposed to ship off to the Garrison when he made his move. He was angry when he found me. I was sitting on a stretch of beach most people don't want to take the time to get to. Or don't have the shoes to get to. It was secluded, somewhere I went to think and get away from it all.” Lance breathed for a moment, his eyes closed to the world around him. The nostalgia and longing were gone from his face, replaced by something close to pain. Possibly it was betrayal.

“He came onto me more than any other time before. We'd flirted, teased, but never gone passed kissing and groping. I tried to fight him off, but... but I was never able to hurt someone important to me, and I was smaller than I am now, a lot weaker too. It was easy for him to overpower me. After he was done, he didn't leave. He had me pinned, right where he'd wanted me for a long time. He hurt me. Cut me. Maybe it was a knife. Maybe it was a box cutter. Maybe it was just a razor. I don't really remember. I just remember each line he made, the blood, the words on my skin-” His breath caught in his throat, his fingers digging into his hip. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye.

Reaching out again, Keith wiped away the tear. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, knowing that it was inadequate in every way, but having no other way to convey what he felt that wasn't angry words, “That should never have happened, not to anyone. Not to you especially.”

“It happened a long time ago. It doesn't... hurt as much anymore. The wound just aches and itches sometimes when I forget to remember that it's still healing,” he murmured, sighing and turning to face Keith. A soft smile spread slowly across his lips as he allowed his eyes to drift open once more. “You're beautiful, you know that?”

Heat flushed across his face, but he didn't look away like he body screamed at him to do. “So are you.”

“No, I'm not. Not like you.”

“You're right. You're nothing like me.” Lance's face began to drop, but he continued. “You're like the sun, Lance, like every star in the sky, like a fucking nebula. I don't think you understand just how amazing you are. I don't deserve you.”

Scrunching his nose, Lance leaned towards him, eyes narrowed. “You've got that backwards. There's no way I deserve you. When I look at you, you make me think of the ocean. Strong and unyielding, dangerous and hiding things far beyond imagination. Terrifying and wonderful, just like you. When I look at you, it feels like I'm home.” His voice had dropped, becoming nothing more than a reverential whisper. His voice was all warmth and tenderness.

“I could do a million amazing things in my lifetime, and never deserve you,” Keith told him, mimicking Lance's tone, “When I look at you, I feel like I have a home.” The smile that burst across Lance's face; Keith would fight entire armies, entire worlds, for that smile.

With heat pressing in at the back of his eyes, clawing at his throat, Keith pushed forward to press chapped lips to smooth. The kiss, so unlike most of the ones they had shared already, was chaste and sweet, full of affection and an emotion they were to scared to name, but ever willing to diver deeper into.

“I would do anything for you,” Lance told him, eyes still closed, lips only a breath away from Keith's.

“You already do too much for me.”

Wrapping an around around Keith's waist, he scooted forward until they were as close as they could get while still nose to nose. The smile was still in place, his sightless eyes catching his without fail, but his lips trembled just slightly. “I want you to know that if you want to, I'll do anything with you.” His arms tightened, and his breath shook as it slipped passed his lips.

Frowning, eyebrow pushing up towards his hairline, Keith said, “I'm not following. We already do a lot together. We've fought crazy, psychotic aliens together. It's kind of hard not to do everything together.”

Lance rolled his eyes spectacularly, long lush eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. “That is not what I meant, Keith, you dope. Other things. Couple things. Anything.”

“Like dates? Because I thought that was just going to come along when we get to stop on planets.”

Lance groaned comically, rolling his head back against the pillow. “No, that's not what I meant. I mean, yes, I was really hoping to get to actually date you, but not what I meant. Don't make me spell it out for you, samurai.”

“You're going to have to.”

Taking a deep breath, Lance breathed out, “Things that couples do when they want their relationship to progress and are comfortable enough for it to move on in a physical direction. Lover things.”

Keith's mouth went bone dry. “Oh.” He was an idiot.

“That didn't sound like a good response,” Lance said slowly.

“No! Quiznak, wait, hold on, I'm just- I was just surprised. I've never really done the relationship thing before, but... uh, yeah. Yes, I-I do want that with you... Eventually... When I'm not broken...”

“You didn't seem to mind being broken in the shower.”

“Okay!” Keith shouted, shoving back from Lance with a hand to his face, “This conversation is over! I'm going back to bed!”

“Wait, you need to take your meds!”

“I told you, I'm not going to!”