#and I swear to god if I hear anyone complaining about bury your gays I will put on a mask and grab an axe MYSELF | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sandalwoodhusbands · 4 years ago

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we are citizens of halloween town || 6k

There’s a pile of books glaring at him from the coffee table. Three books, all neatly set one on top of the other, notes in black ink surrounding them. Lucas reaches for the thickest one.

It’s ugly. Brown and worn around the edges, kinda smelly like any book from the library this old would be. The bane of his existence, really, hate at first sight, some would say.

He glares back, nose scrunched up, before-

Well. He lays on it, okay?

He takes the fucking book, curls his arms on top of it and rests his head on the crook of his elbow. So what. It’s not like anyone’s going to judge him for it.

His boyfriend is drawing with crayons in the seat opposite of him. Give him a fucking break.

Fucking October.

He’s not someone particularly mindful of the seasons of the year (he’s not his ridiculous nerd of a boyfriend), would even say he enjoys autumn. But there’s something about October – the change in the weather, suddenly you blink and it’s night and you have five assignments due that you swear weren’t there before.

There’s no break from summer going into another school year. There’s sun in the afternoons, all warm, but not scorching hot, and whispering in your ear to come out and play, enjoy it before it’s gone. But you’re stuck inside, staring out the window trying to finish your fucking bio essay.

And then it’s night, and it should be chilly, because it’s autumn, but somehow it isn’t and either you have your boyfriend wrapped around you, or a blanket, but you can’t have both. But you kinda want both. So you settle for your boyfriend on top of you, and try to shield the uncovered parts of your body from the cold as much as you can.

It’s always fucking October.

So he’s tired, napping on a suspiciously smelly book because he’s earned this, alright? Just a little break.

“You good there, baby?” asks Eliott, because he’s a fucking angel.

“Hmm.” He says, words slurred against the table. “Just chilling.”

Eliott laughs lightly at that, and Lucas smiles into his forearm. The laughter warms his skin up, like a breath of summer wind, all the way from his belly and down to the tip of his toes, right where they wiggle against the fuzzy carpet through the hole in his sock.

He’s so ridiculously enamored.

Eliott hums from the other side of the table, catching Lucas’ calf with his feet and trapping it between his legs. “You do look very cozy right now.”

Lucas tilts his head up slightly, flashing Eliott a tired grin. “Shh.” He tuts. “I’m sleeping.”

Eliott laughs again, this time louder.

“Oh, alright. My bad” he says, but his legs keep playing tug with Lucas’ under the table. “Baby needs his rest.”

Lucas bites his lip to keep the laugher in his throat, as to not give himself away – although Eliott already knows. He always does, when it comes to Lucas.

It’s then that a little voice decides to make itself known.

“Eli!” the voice chastises quietly. Lucas hears a light thud, and then a shushed voice that says “use your inside voice, Lulu’s sleeping!”

Through closed eyes, Lucas can picture the little boy at the other end of the table. Shaggy brown hair, messy and way too long at the front, because he refuses to get a haircut. He can imagine the boy tugging at Eliott’s shirt, or maybe smacking his small palm flat against Eliott’s arm, big green eyes that match the color of his dino pajamas staring up at his big brother.

A silent snort, and then a gasp. Lucas buries his smile on his forearm.

“So you’re saying I have to be real quiet, so we don’t wake up Lulu?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.” Eliott agrees, and there’s enough mischief in his voice that it makes Lucas open his eyes. He barely has time to raise his head up to see the way his boyfriend picks his brother up by the waist, fingers diving to his sides.

Loud giggles erupt across the room, happy and carefree, and Lucas can only watch fondly as the little boy squirms in Eliott’s hold, eyes bright with laughter and cheeks dusted with pink.

“But Jules!” Eliott says between shrieks of laughter. His eyes shine when he looks down at his brother. Lucas falls just a little bit more in love. “You have to be quiet too!”

Eventually, the laughter dies down, leaving the living room in a state of comfortable quietness. Jules pouts up at Eliott “You cheated.” He complains, petulantly. In a way only a kid could.

Eliott chuckles airily, pushing strands of curly hair off Jules’ eyes with an amused shake of his head. His eyes find Lucas’ over Jules’ head, happy and clear. Lucas smiles at him, and Eliott grins back.

Jules’ cheek is smushed in the crook of his brother’s neck. He’s quiet for some time, eyes droopy as Eliott resumes back to his sketchbook. Both he and Lucas follow the line of Eliott’s hand in wonder.

“Ma said to ask if you’ll take me trick or treat this year.” He speaks softly. There’s every ounce of innocence in his tone when he asks. “Please?”

The question makes Eliott freeze. He immediately turns to look at Lucas, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Lucas knows what he’s thinking. Emma’s party.

Emma’s party, the one they had planned weeks ahead. Because when you’re in uni and every one of your friends have chosen a different degree it’s harder to match plans. Because they probably won’t see everyone until Christmas break again.

Jules follows Eliott’s line of vision, startling when he finds Lucas most definitely not asleep. He smiles at first, all big and sweet, like every time he sees Lucas, before his face sets in a look of determination. Jumping off his brother’s hold, he circles the glass table until his knees bump with Lucas’ shins.

He holds his arms up wordlessly, and Lucas picks him up on autopilot.

Bony knees dig into his stomach, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care, doesn’t care when Jules spreads his small hands across Lucas’ cheeks and looks at him with big, glassy eyes, asking “uncle Lulu, will you pretty please take me trick or treat this year?”

How could he say no? Not to this boy cradled in his arms, the sweetest kid he’s ever met. A little Eliott, so small when he first met him that he fit in the crook of Eliott’s elbow. He was just four months old then.

Four years later and many, many babysitting sessions later – because date night is a very serious thing within the Demaury’s. Every Demaury. Except maybe baby Jules, for now – he’s never loved a kid as much as he loves him. He never thought his heart was capable of holding so much love inside, for Eliott, for this family.

For he considers himself part of it, and he thinks (knows) it’s mutual.

So it’s no surprise. Not to him, or to Eliott, maybe even to Jules, when he answers “of course we will.” And then, because Jules is grinning, and Eliott is too, and he’s got his family in his arms and his world staring at him, he boops Jules’ nose. Because he’s so fucking happy this is his life. “Anything for baby Jules.”

Jules scrunches up his nose, eyes going crossed, before lying his head on Lucas’ chest. Eliott is already waiting for him to look back, sketchbook forgotten in the corner.

There’s a light in his eyes that Lucas is all too familiar with. He gets it himself every time he sees Jules riding in Eliott’s back, or sleeping against his shoulder on long car trips.

Do you think about the future?

I do.

And, in that future…?

It’s never finished, the question.

And in that future, am I in it? Do you see us in your future? Do you see me? Do we make it? Do I?

It’s never said, but they both know it, because one hour later, or two, or one breath away, when they find themselves holed up in their room, their duvet up to their shoulders and Eliott tracing lines across Lucas’ bare stomach, there’ll be a stupid tv show playing on the laptop, and they’ll look at each other in the dark with a smile.

I think you’d be a good dad.

Yeah. You would, too.

And that’s the end of the conversation, every time, because one second later Lucas would have his mouth over Eliott’s, a hand to his neck, and all thoughts would fly out the window at the finger trailing down his back softly.

“I want cookies for dinner.” Jules says tiredly against Lucas’ shoulders. His eyelashes flutter when he speaks, hand closed in a tight grip on Lucas’ sweatshirt.

He hears Eliott’s quiet groan. “God fucking damn it.”

They have cookies for dinner.

***

Eliott has been going on about the differences between spandex and latex for the last 20 minutes.

There’s only so many times you can hear the words “lycra suit” being thrown in a conversation before you get the need to push your boyfriend up against the wall and kiss him senseless to shut him up.

He just wants to take a nice shower. Make out a little, then eat dinner in bed. Eliott’s already rid of his shirt, so he stands in the middle of the room with a bare chest and black track pants hanging low on his hips.

He’s very appreciative of his boyfriend’s beauty, even when said boyfriend is running his ear off.

He’s sitting on the desktop table, back turned to the window. He’d been revising some notes when Eliott had barged into the room like a hurricane. He hadn’t questioned Lucas’ choice of study location (it’s not the first time. He doesn’t have a problem with chairs. It’s not a gay thing, Basile. The table is just comfier- shut up), just had shoved his phone in Lucas’ face, rambling about delivery dates and costume prices.

Lucas had blinked, very much confused, but had wasted no time in trapping Eliott’s waist between his legs. Eliott had just given him a happy look and continued talking.

Now he sits here. His legs are still wrapped around Eliott’s hips, arms circling his middle, and he’s long given up on keeping his back straight, or understanding what’s going on, so he pillows his head on Eliott’s stomach. With every word that Eliott says, the vibrations travel down to his ear.

“This is nice.” Lucas murmurs against Eliott’s stomach, when Eliott finally goes on a rant break. He rubs his cheek on the warm skin, smiling a little. His boyfriend smells nice, like their body soap and a hint of cranberry juice that he’d spilled on his pants during lunch.

Eliott looks down from his phone. He drops a kiss to Lucas’ hair, tightening his grip on his shoulders with his free arm. “You’re nice.”

“You’re nicer.”

“And you’re lucky you’re cute, because I know you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said for the past twenty minutes.”

Lucas snickers to himself, snuggling closer to Eliott when he feels fingers drawing shapes at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, but what did you expect when my shirtless boyfriend is right here?” He says, and kisses softly between Eliott’s pecs to seal his words. “C’mon.”

Eliott tuts. “I know what you’re doing, Lallemant.”

Lucas turns his head up to grin at Eliott, fitting his hands on the small of Eliott’s back. He presses one kiss to his stomach. Two, three, tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips in the last one.

“What am I doing?”

Eliott exhales.

“You’re trying to distract me with sex.”

“Yeah.” Lucas breathes. No use in denying the obvious. He looks at Eliott through his eyelashes, slowly leaning in to leave another kiss to the expanse of his chest, teeth grazing the skin teasingly. “Is it working?”

Eliott shudders, and one blink later Lucas has a face full of Eliott’s hand.

He gives Lucas a disapproving look, spread palm covering his mouth. Whatever made him think that would help his case, he doesn’t know. Still, Lucas gives in this once, only because he looks very cute under their bedroom light right now.

He makes a muffled sigh against Eliott’s hand, rolling his eyes jokingly as Eliott retracts his hand back. Eliott squints at him. Lucas squints back, neither of them moving.

At the end it’s Lucas who breaks. He sighs again, looking up at Eliott and curling his arms around his neck. “Okay. What is it?”

Eliott laughs loudly, a sound that makes their bodies shake and Lucas’ face break into a smile even if he’s not sure what they’re laughing at.

“You really have no shame, do you?” Eliott laughs again, and he goes to slide his hands under Lucas’ ass to lift him up.

Lucas secures his grip on Eliott’s waist and neck as his body leaves the desktop table, flashing him a shit-eating grin. “You already know I wasn’t listening. No surprise.”

“Yeah, but don’t say it to my face.”

He presses teeny, tiny kisses to Eliott’s cheek as an apology. “Sorry, baby. I promise I’ll listen this time.”

“You fucking better.” Eliott threatens. He walks them around the apartment like the boy wrapped around his body fucking weights nothing. It’s a really fucking cute habit – albeit a bit weird at the beginning, when Eliott would just pick him up out of the blue at the most random times.

It helps me think, shush, Eliott had said the time Lucas had asked him about it. And that’d been it.

He’s his boyfriend’s personal light bulb, he supposes.

“I was talking to my mom this afternoon, and I think Jules is going through a Spiderman phase.”

Lucas smiles internally at the image of little Jules tricking his parents into buying anything Spiderman related he sees at the store.

He can imagine how the conversation went down. A blankie? He needs it, because it’s cold. And a toothbrush, because it doesn’t matter if he has one already! Two toothbrushes means more teeth-brushing time, and that’s good. That t-shirt, please mama, and maybe the pajamas too? The mask?

Wait a fucking minute.

“Oh hell no-“

“He’d lose his mind if we got him a Spiderman suit. Can you imagine? And to make it even better! Wouldn’t it be fucking cute if we matched? Like mini and maxi Demaury? So I’d get one too, and then-“

“I am not wearing Spandex.”

Eliott shushes him, sitting them on the edge of the bed. “And then I had a brilliant idea.” Lucas doubts that. He’s already dreading the next words that will come out of Eliott’s mouth. “Deadpool! Me as Spiderman, you as Deadpool, the fucking hottest couple of all Paris.”

Ah, there it is. He can’t even pretend like he didn’t see that one coming.

He drops his head to Eliott’s shoulder, an amused little huff falling from his lips. He knew he had lost the battle the very second Eliott entered the room.

“You in?” Eliott asks, bumping their heads together softly.

He’s one beat away from saying ‘of fucking course I’ll be you your better superhero half, you fucking beautiful dork’ when a weird thought flashes across his mind.

“Wait, what? Since when do Deadpool and Spiderman go together?”

Eliott pulls him back by his shoulders, frowning. “Are you serious?” His mouth gapes at Lucas’ blank stare. “My God, Mika really taught you nothing.” He murmurs.

“What? Eliott, I’ve seen all the movies. I can assure you I’ve never seen Deadpool and Spiderman in a scene together.”

“Well yeah, I mean the comics?” Eliott asks, like it’s obvious, and for one second he looks confused. Then realization dawns on him. “Lucas Lallemant, you haven’t read the comics?” The disbelief in his voice makes Lucas’ cheeks turn pink, his silence being enough answer. Eliott squeaks in outrage. “And you call yourself a fan?”

“I just never found the time, okay.” Lucas defends himself, pulling on Eliott’s hair weakly.

“I have so much to show you. So. Many. Gay. Superheroes, Lucas.”

The glee in Eliott’s voice turns Lucas’ smile into mush. “You’re ridiculous.” He says, but doesn’t mean it.

Eliott kisses him then, as if he can see through Lucas’ words. He kisses him soundly, hands cupping Lucas’ face and lips moving against Lucas’ at a slow pace. Lucas kisses back, digs his knees into the mattress to push himself against Eliott, smiling when he feels Eliott’s smile on his lips.

“But,” he says between kisses, panting. Eliott whines, like it’s a personal offense that Lucas stopped kissing him “isn’t Deadpool like, pan?”

Eliott gives him a dirty look that screams you did not just stop kissing me for this.

He kisses the side of Eliott’s mouth to make up for it.

“Yeah, so?”

“So, why aren’t you Deadpool and I’m Spiderman?”

Eliott takes Lucas’ face in his hands, bringing their faces impossibly closer together. From that distance their noses rub together with every breath, heavy and shallow. “Because you, baby,” Eliott whispers, thumb moving to press down on Lucas’ bottom lip wetly to prove a point “are my little merc with a fucking mouth.”

Lucas smirks proudly, parting his lips. “And a mouth I have.”

Eliott pulls him into another kiss. It’s a little rougher around the edges, but they’re both smiling into it. Eliott’s tongue slides between his parted lips, and Lucas catches it with his teeth. He pushes at Eliott’s shoulders until they’re both lying on the bed, chest to chest and Lucas’ knees on either side of Eliott’s waist.

Eliott has his hands spread across the curve of Lucas’ ass, and Lucas has been going at his neck for a while when Eliott starts shaking his head. He pulls back to look at Eliott, confused.

“I just can’t believe you’ve never read a Marvel comic.”

“And I can’t believe I’m surprised that you have.” Lucas grumbles back.

Eliott shoots him a lazy grin, raising one eyebrow. “What was that?”

“I’ll wear the spandex?”

Eliott’s grin turns wicked. He’s already regretting this.

***

He regrets it. For a series of numerous reasons.

Okay, regret is a heavy word. He just… Halloween wasn’t a thing for him growing up, that’s all. When he still lived with his mama she’d always shut down the windows and lock all the doors three times, just in case, because she’s always had a struggling relationship with demonic creatures.

And Lucas, well, he’s always had a struggling relationship with the dark. It’s just fucking scary, okay? It’s scary, and lonely, and everyone always tells you ‘oh don’t worry, there’s nothing there!’ But you can’t fucking see that, can you?

See where this is going?

So yes, he hates the fucking dark, and everywhere he looks there’s shadows lurking in the corner and people in costumes that are fucking ugly, and fuck his life. Fuck his life, and also Eliott Demaury for, on top of everything, making him wear the tightest piece of clothing he’s worn in his life.

He thinks he’s funny, shooting Lucas knowing glances every time he flinches at a loud noise, looking ridiculously beautiful in that stupid Spiderman costume. Although, if he has to be appreciative of something, is the way Eliott’s long torso looks in the red and blue fabric.

He’s got his face mask in one hand, same as Lucas, so the costume only reaches up to his neck. His hair is all messy, grey eyes shining bright under the last rays of sunshine, and Lucas thinks his sexual awakening would have gone a lot smoother had this been the version of Spiderman he grew up with.

Or maybe he’s just in love.

“I see you’re enjoying yourself.” Eliott says in his ear as they walk past a group of kids with their brains in their hands. “Seriously, relax. It looks like you’re sucking on a lemon. Not a good look on you, baby.”

“Oh, shut up.” Lucas laughs, dragging his gaze away from them. “You love me in any shape-“

A loud thud behind them makes Lucas gasp. He turns his head around so fast he’s impressed he didn’t snap his neck, and the sudden coil in his stomach eases when he sees it’s just a near neighbor taking out the trash.

God, he’s a loser.

“Fucking hell.”

Eliott doesn’t laugh this time. He just bumps their shoulders together quietly, offering him a soft smile before resting his hand on the small of his back, dangerously close to his ass.

That’s another thing. For some reason, his boyfriend has decided in the past three hours that he’s really into Lucas in this costume. Really into it.

He’s lost count of the times Eliott has slapped, kneaded and squeezed his ass since they left home. He had to physically hold Eliott’s arms around his waist on the subway because Eliott’s hand kept traveling south. After the fifth time it happened Lucas slapped his hand away.

“I can’t help that you’re so hot!” Eliott had whined.

“Well, you’re gonna fucking have to.”

He would have been more concerned if the attention hadn’t been 100% on him.

(And Eliott does have a point. These costumes really leave nothing to imagination, and it makes their bums looking fucking great.)

Just then Eliott’s hands drops one inch lower, slender fingers brushing against the swell of Lucas’ ass. Lucas narrows his eyes, taking one step away.

Reaching behind his back, he grabs at one of the swords strapped to his back. “See this? I’m gonna poke you in the eye with it if you don’t stop touching my ass” he hisses under his breath, tilting Eliott’s chin up with the tip of the plastic sword. “There’s kids around.”

Eliott points to it. “You should use that to fight the trashcan from earlier.”

“I hate you.”

Eliott pouts, looking at him pleadingly. Lucas straps the sword back with a sigh and puts Eliott’s hand back on his ass. He can’t even pretend to be grumpy when Eliott looks so damn happy as they keep walking.

“You know I’m only kidding, right?” Eliott says suddenly, sliding his hand from Lucas’ ass to curl around his waist. He drops a kiss to Lucas’ cheek. “I love you, slight apprehension of the dark and all.”

Lucas raises Eliott’s hand up to his mouth and kisses it wordlessly. He smiles against the cold skin.

He swears he just heard a wolf howl, but he doesn’t tell Eliott about it.

Eerie music comes from the big speakers propped up in the Demaury’s yard. There’s a big pumpkin at the front door and spider webs hanging from the doorframe and windowsills. There’s a small sized sticker of a ghost plastered to the wall, looks like it’s barely holding on in there – probably put there by Jules. It makes Lucas smile.

Jules squeals when the sees them. He’s dressed in a black Spiderman suit, a literal small version of his older brother, and when they stand together it makes Lucas warm.

“Lulu, you look so cool!” Jules squeaks excitedly, hugging his legs. Lucas crunches down to pick him up, letting him touch everywhere in wonder. Eventually he finds the swords strapped to his back and looks at Lucas with wide eyes. “Can I play with the swords?”

Lucas laughs, dropping Jules to the floor to grab the swords.

“Be careful though.”

With that, Jules sets off running. Never too far away from them, he walks ahead on the street. The swords rattling across the pavement make an unsettling noise, and Lucas holds on tighter to Eliott’s hand when the cross a park with no streetlights.

For being the city of light, they should fucking invest on some streetlights.

Jules clinks one of the swords against something metallic, and Lucas jumps.

“I fucking hate Halloween.” He groans into Eliott’s shoulder.

Eliott just laughs.

They walk so many houses Lucas’ feet start hurting. Jules’ pumpkin bag is brimmed to the brink with very sweet candy that gives Lucas cavities just by looking at it. They make quite a trio, the three of them.

They pass groups of high-schoolers and little kids with their relatives - Lucas sees a lot of questionable costumes. Some of them he wishes he could unsee. It’s less scary like this though. Despite the theme, the streets are full of people. Loud laugher and the occasional shriek, nothing scary about a five year old wearing a skeleton costume and making ‘boo’ noises at them.

It makes Lucas relax.

Since Jules isn’t tall enough to reach the doorbell, he takes turns in dragging him and Eliott by the wrist to call at the door for them. They get complimented for their costumes a lot – someone says they make a beautiful family, and it makes Lucas blush and Eliott say thank you. Jules keeps himself busy nibbling on a strawberry licorice wheel.

On the way back, when it’s much, much later – much darker, and much colder – a girl stops them. She looks older than what they’ve seen all evening, and there’s a small group of them, girls and boys alike standing a few feet away from her, dressed similarly to her.

“Sorry to bother you guys, but I love your costumes.” She says excitedly. Guess you don’t see two grown ass men in expensive costumes going trick-or-treat in the suburbs of Paris, Lucas thinks. “I’ve always loved this pair.”

Eliott turns to look at him with a ‘I told you so’ grin. Lucas huffs amusedly, and Jules looks at them confusedly from his place in Eliott’s hip.

“Thank you.” Lucas says politely, “love your costume too.”

The girl’s grin widens. “Do you mind if I take a pic?”

They look at each other through the masks and shrug at each other.

“Sure.”

Eliott drops Jules to the ground and Lucas walks over to him, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and shuffling closer. Stupidly, he smiles behind the mask, as though it’ll make a difference for the picture. He stays still.

A moment later Eliott is spinning him around, hooking his fingers under Lucas’ mask and lifting it over his nose before pressing their lips together. Lucas loops his arms around Eliott’s neck automatically, and Eliott wraps his around Lucas’ hips.

He hears someone whispering something that sounds a lot like ‘oh my god they look so fucking hot’, and it makes them smile into the kiss.

“Yuck!” Jules says all of a sudden. He goes to tug at Eliott’s leg. “I’m tired Eli, can we go home now?”

Lucas muffles his laughter in Eliott’s shoulder.

Eliott picks Jules back up again and secures him on his hip, saying goodbye to the friend group.

Jules spends the whole way there, with the candy bag gripped tightly in his hand and his head drooping to Eliott’s chest every few minutes. Eliott carries him with one hand and holds Lucas’ with the free one. When they drop Jules off at home he’s been asleep in Eliott’s arms for a while.

The person from the house two blocks away was right: they make a beautiful family.

It’s darker than it’s been all evening, or at least that’s what Lucas thinks. They’ve decided to walk to Emma’s after dropping Jules off at Eliott’s parents’. It’s a cold night, and he’s seriously considering putting his mask back on to fight the biting cold hitting his cheeks.

It’s quiet for most of the walk, no kids screaming (probably eating their Halloween candy as dinner) or cars rushing through the streets (on the way to getting passed out drunk at a bar or in some house party). Just the sound of their steps and their voices being carried away by the wind.

Eliott’s got his hand in Lucas’ and he’s telling him about something he saw on a store glass a few blocks back. His fingers are cold, because he got the only Spiderman costume in the store without the hand gloves, and the tip of his nose shines pink every time they walk under a lamppost. He looks like the cutest Spiderman Lucas’ ever seen.

Eliott stares mid-rant when he notices Lucas staring at him. He looks back funnily, tilting his head to the side with a small smile.

“What?”

Lucas shrugs, matching smile of his own. “Nothing.”

Eliott squeezes his hand.

”What time is it?”

The question is sudden, and Lucas looks at Eliott curiously. After a beat of silence he just reaches inside the pocket on the costume’s belt, where he’s got both his and Eliott’s phones. The phone screen lights up their faces when he unlocks it.

“21:21”

Eliott’s expression turns solemn.

“Can we go somewhere before going to Emma’s party?”

“Sure?”

He doesn’t have time to think what any of it means when Eliott is suddenly tugging at their joined hands, rushing them through the empty streets. Lucas keeps his gaze set on the back of Eliott’s head as they run; they’re both panting, the cold air turning their breath into white smoke, and they’re both laughing a little although he’s not sure why.

The tight fabric of their costumes accentuates the curve of Eliott’s back, the muscles underneath flexing and relaxing while they run. Lucas understands Eliott’s fixation a little better.

They’re standing in front of a gate Lucas knows all too well when Eliott asks him to close his eyes.

“Run and keep my eyes closed at the same time? Shit, love, I know you like to skip class but you must have heard about self-preservation.”

Eliott grins at that.

“No running then.”

Eliott walks behind Lucas, wrapping one arm around Lucas’ shoulders and covering his eyes with the other. Lucas thinks he could tell Eliott that he doesn’t need to cover his eyes for him, that he wouldn’t peek anyway if Eliott asked. But he likes Eliott guiding him better, so he keeps his mouth shut.

He thought his heart would stop beating this fast every time they walk in here after such a long time, but it still does.

“This is spooky,” Lucas comments quietly. Branches tweak and crunch under their feet, and breaking the silence feels like an offense. “Is this the part where you finally murder me? Very Halloween-y.”

Eliott’s warm chest rumbles against his back when he laughs. “Yeah, I’ve been playing the long game. No one will suspect me.”

Lucas hums. “Very smart of you.”

“I know.”

They walk a few more steps until Eliott finally stops. He stays still as Eliott circles his body. His eyes stay closed even when Eliott removes his hand, waiting for instructions.

“Wait here.” Eliott whispers. His breath hits Lucas’ mouth, and Lucas reaches forward to grab his hips. “With your eyes closed.”

Lucas lets go of Eliott in surprise.

“Eh, no!? I’m not keeping my eyes closed, Eli, what the fuck? It’s dark and it’s Halloween, and hell fucking no.”

Eliott grabs him by neck and kisses him silent, before whispering against his lips “Just for a second.”

Then his touch is gone. Lucas’ heartbeat fucking skyrockets.

The sound of faint branches cracking makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand. He tells himself that it’s just his idiotic boyfriend doing fuck knows what, but when you can’t see it’s really hard to convince yourself of something you can’t check.

A particular loud squeak makes him jump, and he bites on his tongue to avoid yelling. He moves forward at the noise, in search of Eliott’s body. When he finds nothing but air he’s this close to saying fuck it all and open his eyes, to the cost of Eliott’s disappointment, because he’d rather live, thanks, and he’s sure Eliott would appreciate a boyfriend to be disappointed in than no boyfriend at all.

But then Eliott says “okay, you can open them now.”

And when Lucas does, Eliott’s face is looking at him upside down.

He’s-

Eliott is hanging from a thick tree branch with a self-satisfied grin on his face. Lucas’ mouth drops open.

“Oh my fucking god.” Lucas breathes. “Oh my god, you fucking idiot, get down here! You’re gonna break your fucking neck.” He says, waving his hands above Eliott’s body without touching, afraid the wrong touch will make him fall.

Eliott surges his hand forward to cup Lucas’ face, beaming. “It’s fine.” He pulls Lucas closer, palms fitting over Lucas’ cheeks and grey sparkly eyes staring into Lucas’, and Lucas breathes.

He breathes, wrapping his fingers around Eliott’s wrists, and smiles up at Eliott helplessly.

Eliott makes a sweet sound. “Trick or kiss?” he whispers.

“You’re an idiot.” He whispers back, but he moves his hands from Eliott’s wrists to his cheeks and brushes their lips together softly. Eliott sighs into the kiss, brushes his knuckles across Lucas’ cold cheeks, fits his thumb under Lucas’ chin.

He lets Eliott sneak in a couple more kisses - to the corner of his mouth, to his nose, then back to Lucas’ lips again – before taking a step away.

“Okay, get back down now.”

Eliott’s eyes flutter open at the sound of Lucas’ voice. He looks like he had forgotten where he was for a second, and it takes everything in Lucas to stop himself from walking over and kissing him again.

Smiling dopily, Eliott crunches up to hold the branch with his hands. He flips one leg over the branch, sitting on it for a second before moving down a branch, and then another one. His feet gets stuck in between two, and Lucas snorts.

“Some Spiderman you make…” Eliott shoots him a death glare, shaking his feet free before crunching down on the closest branch to the ground. “If you fall and die, I won’t cry at your funeral.”

Eliott hops down easily, moving to curl his arm around Lucas’ neck with a smirk. “Liar. You’d cry the most.”

“You dumb fuck,” he says, but he rubs his cold nose on Eliott’s neck before looking up at Eliott. “You cute, dumb fuck.”

Eliott kisses him soundly. “Merc with a mouth.”

They kiss again, Lucas tipping his body forward and curling himself closer under Eliott’s arm. He moves his hand to press against Eliott’s jaw as Eliott’s tongue slips between his lips, sliding it up and down the smooth material covering his chest. He sighs softly into the kiss when Eliott’s hand goes to the back of his head, scratching a little.

They pull back to catch their breathing. There’s red in Eliott’s cheeks, from the cold or the kissing, Lucas isn’t entirely sure, and he raises up on his tip toes to leave a kiss under his eye.

It’s then that a loud fucking metallic noise comes from inside the bridge.

Lucas looks up at Eliott with wide eyes. “Should I bring out the swords, or…?” He jokes weakly, but his knuckles turn white under the costume where he’s gripping Eliott’s arm.

Eliott frowns, looking behind him before looking back at Lucas. “Let’s just get out of here.”

And well, Lucas isn’t about to argue that.

Later, when they’re back outside and the lampposts light up the streets and Lucas has stopped clenching his jaw every time he hears a noise, Eliott says conversationally

“I’m gonna make a movie about you.”

Lucas grins up at Eliott. “Oh yeah?”

Eliott hums. “Yeah, wanna know how I’m gonna call it?” he asks, waiting for Lucas’ nods. “The hero who was scared of the dark.”

“I thought I was supposed to be an anti-hero?”

Eliott stops, and with him Lucas. He puts his hand in Lucas’ neck. Brushes Lucas’ cheekbone with his thumb, small smile like he knows something that Lucas doesn’t. “Nah. Not for me.”

Lucas kisses him. He keeps their hands intertwined all the way to Emma’s party.

End.

#:)#skam france #elu fic #elu

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lefaystrent · 6 years ago

Text

Nursing Home au

Patton works at the nursing home as a registered nurse, because the man truly cares for people.

He oversees the activities of the rest of the nursing staff, and he’s always keeping them in high spirits.

There’s a vacancy for a nursing aide. Who could possibly fill that position?

It’s Virgil.

At first, Patton honestly doesn’t think Virgil should have been hired there.

Patton had seen Virgil during the hiring process, and his personality didn’t seem like a … good fit. Too closed-off and kinda gruff, and probably not a good bedside manner, right?

Plus there was that criminal record to consider …

But the nursing home administrator hires him anyway, and Virgil joins the staff.

Patton keeps a close eye on Virgil.

Yes he feels guilty, but even Patton isn’t free from prejudices.

Virgil goes about his work very meticulously.

He arrives five minutes early every day, without fail.

He never complains about the tasks he’s been given, just quietly accepts them in a way that makes Patton and the others wonder what he’s really thinking.

He doesn’t talk casually with the other staff much, giving short answers whenever prompted.

Patton worries about the staff’s morale as a team.

Surprisingly, he starts hearing a lot of praise about Virgil. Not from the other staff members, but from the patients themselves.

One of them, a man named Roman, sounds like he’s complaining about him.

“And then he started criticizing my favorite movies!”

“I’m so sorry sir, I’ll talk to him about that.”

“What are you talking about? Kid had some good points. I like him.”

Patton starts subtly bringing up Virgil in conversations while visiting with the patients. For some, he doesn’t even have to warm up to the subject. They stop him in the hallway.

“Patton hun, you know that new boy with the eye-makeup?”

“Yes ma’am, that would be Virgil.”

“He’s so sweet. He helped me with my phone, it’s one of those smart ones? It wasn’t working right, and he fixed it. He’s a smart boy.”

The biggest sign is when one patient—Logan Crofters, who’s a notorious nitpicker—actually voices his approval of Virgil.

“He’s not an idiot,” is all Logan says on the matter, which coming from him, it’s high praise.

Patton doesn’t really understand yet why the patients have taken such a liking to him, but he endeavors to try harder to see who Virgil really is. Mostly he’s glad that his first impression seems to be wrong.

Virgil, for his part, doesn’t understand why the patients like him either.

He just knows that they do.

One of them goes out of their way to call him over to ask for his opinion on what color scarf to knit for their granddaughter.

Another one makes a point to introduce him to their visiting family.

Lots of them seem to like to talk his ear off in general and give him life advice.

Virgil doesn’t really mind it. He’s not used to people wanting to talk to him so much, and to be honest he could use some of the advice.

And the stories they have to share are kinda wild.

He likes bantering with the one old dude, Roman.

“I’ll have you know I’ve killed many a dragon witch in my day.”

“Was this before or after you went senile?”

“Brat.”

“Old fart.”

And then there’s Logan, the elderly man in a wheelchair. He’s probably the smartest man Virgil has ever talked to.

“You’d be surprised how many people assume I’m stupid.”

“You’re in a wheelchair, not braindead dude.”

“Yes, but I am old and crippled, and many people cannot separate physical inadequacy from mentality.”

“Well most people are idiots.”

Logan shows off his dentures in a rare grin.

After those two, there’s Remus.

Even the other staff members warn Virgil in advance about him.

It takes Virgil a month into working there to realize that he’s Roman’s brother.

It really should have been obvious.

“Virgil, where would you bury a body?”

“Why bury it when you can just burn it? Or feed it to some pigs; they’ll eat anything.”

“… oh, I like you.”

Okay, not so obvious, because Remus is a crazy old coot. But he’s got a lot of ideas and grand stories like Roman, only darker themed.

Virgil is convinced Remus is fucking with him to get a reaction out of him.

“He only says all that to get a rise out of you,” Logan confirms.

Challenge accepted.

Virgil continues being a bomb ass nurse.

He’s always super self conscious around his superior, Patton.

He knows Patton is wary of him and Virgil is terrified of messing up in front of him.

Or messing up in general. Poor babe really is too hard on himself.

Even the patients worry about him from time to time.

“You getting enough sleep at night, son? Ya got bags under your eyes!”

“That’s makeup, sir. You know that’s my makeup.”

“Hahaha, but it was funny, right? But seriously, are you sleeping enough?”

And Virgil can’t count how many times they’ve thrown food at him.

“You’re too skinny. You need to eat more.”

“I already eat a lot. I’ve got a high metabolism.”

“Is that one of those social media sites?”

“Roman, if you don’t stop acting stupid—”

“Kidding! I have an Instagram after all. Which you should totally follow me, by the way.”

It’s like suddenly being adopted and Virgil is now the grandson to many old folk.

He’s not even surprised when someone tries to set him up with one of their grandchildren.

What does surprise him is that it’s Logan.

“You should meet my grandson, Remy. Judging from what I’ve observed of your personality, you two would be compatible.”

“Huh, that’s funny, Roman’s got a grandson named Remy too.”

“Yes, Remy is both our grandson.”

“Wait, what?”

“We used to be married, Roman and I. Didn’t you know he was my ex-husband?”

Somehow Virgil has missed that.

But he is so going to grill them for details, because Roman with Logan?

Roman jumps on board when Virgil brings it up.

“Yes! Remy! You would be perfect for him! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it first!”

Virgil laughs it off because they can’t be serious.

Of course, they’re very serious.

Virgil is doing his rounds when he walks into Roman’s room and a guy not too far off from his own age standing there in a leather jacket and shades.

“Oh, you are cute,” the guy says in a way that lets Virgil know that he’s clearly heard about Virgil before.

Roman is exceedingly proud.

Virgil officially meets Remy, the grandson.

It’s awkward.

By the end of it, Virgil apparently has a date after work that he swears he doesn’t remember agreeing to.

Remy’s waiting for him in the lobby.

“You ready for the night of your life, babe?”

“…”

“Wait, you’re walking the opposite direction. Come back.”

Virgil goes out to eat with Remy.

Remy actually apologizes for his grandfathers.

“They’re cool old gay dudes, but they can be really pushy. They’ve been complaining about me being single for like yeaaars. Um, maybe I like being single?”

“Do you?”

“Okay, a bitch is lonely, but gurl, I can find a man or whoever on my own, amirite?”

“Why’d you agree to this then?”

“’Cause you really are cute and seem cool. Plus can we just talk about your aesthetic for a sec? What products do you use on your hair? The purple dye is perf.”

It’s not really a date.

But Virgil might have made a friend out of it, at least.

Virgil finds himself talking about it the next day with Patton.

It just sort of happens.

“They set me up with their grandson.”

“Oh Remy? You’ve met him?”

“Yeah…”

“Well? How’d it go?”

“Uh … I’m not sure? Like, I’m pretty sure we established it wasn’t really a date. But I think we might …”

“Might what?”

“Be … friends?”

“That’s nice, Virgil,” Patton says in a way that Virgil can tell he means it.

Virgil shrugs. “Yeah, I don’t know what I’m gonna tell his granddads though. Their gonna jump on me as soon as they see me. God old people love to gossip more than teenagers.”

“Just try to let them down easy, okay? They really adore Remy and just want him to be happy.”

It’s the first conversation Virgil has with him that doesn’t make him nervous.

The days go by and Virgil is starting to feel like he’s really settling in.

He still doesn’t understand why the patients like him so much.

Not until Patton finally sheds some insight.

It’s a busy enough day, and then Remus has one of his episodes.

He’s screaming and the other staff members who are more experienced with dealing with him are trying to settle him down.

Virgil hears the commotion from down the hall and comes running into the day room where all the patients gather and visit or watch tv.

“He gets like this sometimes,” Logan tells him. Roman sits silently beside him holding his hand, lips pressed in a thin white line and eyes not looking away from the chaotic scene.

Remus is throwing things at the nurses, yelling something about how the lights are trying to eat him.

“It’s best to stay back, Virgil,” Logan tells him.

Virgil doesn’t listen.

He goes and turns off the lights.

There’s still enough sunlight filtering in through the windows, enough to see. But everyone looks around.

Virgil pushes through the other staff.

He nudges Patton aside who had been attempting to console him.

Patton wants to pull him back. Remus is in a vulnerable state of mind right now and it could be bad for either of them.

But Virgil leans in and starts talking in a low voice to Remus.

And … it’s working.

Remus’s screams taper off.

He doesn’t look any less confused or scared. Just subdued.

“I want to go,” he says, eyes looking through everyone there. “Want to go back to my room now. Want to go back.”

“Okay, we can go, Remus. Let’s go,” Virgil says and guides him out.

It’s a slow process, but they make it to his room, Patton hovering close the entire way.

They give Remus a mild sedative to help him relax.

When Virgil walks out of the room, Roman is standing there.

He doesn’t say anything to Virgil, but he claps a hand on his shoulder.

There’s gratitude glistening in his eyes.

Roman goes into the room.

Virgil leaves for the break room. He’s definitely earned a break.

Plus his hands are kind of shaking, but shhhhh, don’t tell anyone.

After a long time, Patton comes into the room.

He sits at the table with Virgil.

“He’ll be fine,” Patton assures him.

“I didn’t say I was worried for him.”

Patton smiles and shakes his head.

“They all love you, you know?” he surprises Virgil by saying. “The patients. You do a lot of good by them.”

Virgil shrugs. “I don’t see why. I’m just me. Just doing my job. Nothing special.”

“You treat them like people.”

Patton leans closer over the table. Virgil doesn’t look away.

“You listen to them. And you talk to them, like they’re people. And for them, these people who have lost a lot of their independence and are often left forgotten here by even their own families—that’s worth a lot.”

Virgil doesn’t know if he believes all that.

But it’s a nice thought.

#sanders sides #patton #patton sanders #virgil #virgil sanders #roman #roman sanders #logan #logan sanders #remus #remus sanders #remy #remy sanders #nursing home au

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ethelphantom · 5 years ago

Text

The Greatest Miracle

This fandom does not have enough BartAdrien content like, seriously. They're the cutest thing to ever exist. Two sunshine children. Please love them. Please love my greatest creation. Anyway, have some cuteness and fluff and (possible? I have no idea if it is funny) humour for a change! Maribat March day 22, rare pair

Ao3

This is Maribat -- Don’t like; Don’t read

____________________________

“Please don’t.”

“Oh, Adrien. I totally will.”

❋❋❋

“Hey, Bart, give my tablet back! I need it for my speech!”

“Nooopppe! I may not be able to open it but I know what kind of things there are! Kon, catch!”

“Thanks, Bart. Have fun. You forgot I’m also doing the speech. You literally asked me to.”

“Dang it.”

❋❋❋

Marinette snorted as Adrien took one look at her before burying his face in his hands as she stood up, Tim and Conner following suit. She grabbed the microphone from the stand nearby and blew a kiss at Adrien, winking.

“Good afternoon everyone! It’s a beautiful day, even more beautiful than Adrien’s hair, and we all know how beautiful his hair is, soooo… Anyway, before I actually get to any important part, I need to say that I asked Adrien if there was anything that I shouldn’t say in any case, and well. He didn’t say anything in particular, I swear. To everyone else, I’m sorry if this makes your idea of Adrien’s supposed put-togetherness just vanish in front of your eyes. I can promise you, it never existed in the first place.

“I can’t believe this day actually came, seeing Adrien get married to someone,” Marinette said, smiling when she heard the quiet “rude much?” coming from Adrien’s direction. “Oh yeah. In case some of you didn’t know, I’m Marinette, Adrien’s best friend, though I’m pretty sure the only ones who don’t know that are from Bart’s side as Adrien has somehow managed to introduce me to his entire family, all of his few friends — and Adrien, before you say anything, you met most of your friends through me, don’t try — and we went to the same school so there’s that as well. Honestly, I think he’s even dragged me to a few family reunions during the years.”

There was laughter in the crowd but it quieted down as soon as Marinette began talking again.

“Adrien and I have gone through thick and thin. There have been liars, bullies, gold-diggers, over-eager wannabe journalists… Well, we’ve probably seen anything you can imagine. We’re siblings in all but blood, rather literally. My parents even adopted him after Gabitch — I mean, Gabriel, all parents of little children, you did not hear that, and neither did you, Bart, Wally and Dick, but like seriously, if there's anyone that deserves to be called out for being a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad father in a wedding, it's that man —, was arrested. It was easier since that meant he wouldn’t need to transfer schools.”

Marinette tilted her head and bit the inside of her cheek. “Wait a second. Tim, dear, did you have the tablet connected to the projector already? I want the photos, like, five minutes ago.”

Tim laughed at her. “Cuppie, you started the speech less than three minutes ago. But yeah, it’s connected.”

“Shush, you. Thanks! I’ll say when I want the pictures. Anyway. I met Adrien when we were like, 13, and it really didn’t start great. I hated him at first. Like, honest to God hated him. You can imagine how the rest of the day went. Somehow, he cleared the idea I had of him within a few hours though, so we became friends. He’s the best friend I’ve ever had, always been there for me through everything.

“I don’t think I’ve got too much time to speak even though I’d absolutely love to do that for the rest of the day because Adrien’s gonna murder me if I try, so I’ll just tell you one of my favourite things with him. Who everyone knew him on some level when he was 17?”

Maybe a quarter of the room raised their hands.

“Great. How many of you noticed he had a crush then?”

Less than half of those people raised their hands, though rather hesitant.

“Fine, Adrien, you win, but that just means they didn’t spend enough time with you. Anyway. He had a crush on our dear Bart over here though he kept denying it for ages. Tim, the pictures, please? Because I’ve got a compilation of how he looked like when I felt like pointing the fact out to him and after I had actually informed him of his crush. I have no idea how he didn’t realise it right away.”

There were pictures of clearly lovesick Adrien, looking at something (a lot of the time it seemed to be his phone) the same way he had looked at Bart only some time earlier.

Someone in the crowd yelled “he was so whipped oh my god, did he really not realise?” when they got to the fifth photo.

Adrien had hidden his face in Bart’s hair.

He was lucky Bart’s hair was like it was.

Bart, though, he was laughing.

“Yeah, yeah he was, and me neither. He literally had a gay panic after he met Bart for the first time — trust me when I say that he was royally screwed already from day one. And yet. Yet. Considering Adrien had known me for only a day or two when he decided he was in love with me when we were like 13 and actually declared this in front of a whole bunch of people, it’s so funny how it took him actual months to admit he was actually in love with Bart. Fun fact, the three of us—” Marinette pointed at herself and then at Tim and Kon on her left, “still have a group chat full of plans to get those two together because they were so oblivious, especially Adrien, and also idiots. God, do I love them, but I swear they caused me more grey hair than the wild kid I babysat as a teenager ever did.”

Tim snatched the microphone from Marinette’s hands, pecking her cheek quickly. Marinette stuck her tongue out at him but didn’t complain about the interruption. It wasn’t like she had anything important left to say anyway. For now.

“Yes, listen to my beautiful and wonderful wife over here. They were so frustrating, always talking about the other like they had hung the moon and the stars on the night sky but neither realised they liked the other until it was pointed out to them. Well. According to Mari, it took until Kon and I got Bart to realise he liked Adrien, which eventually led to him confessing, that Adrien recognised his own feelings. It’s ridiculous, but oh so amusing to tell now.

“So, hello everyone, I’m Tim, one of Bart’s best friends — the other is over there being a loser. I met Bart through Dick and Wally maybe half a year after Bruce started watching over me because my parents were never there, so we must have been seven or eight. I had troubles with befriending other people back then—”

“You still do, Tim.”

“Mari, this is my speech, yours ended already.”

“Yeah, because you stole the mic.”

“Technicalities, technicalities. Anyhow, I had trouble with getting friends around that time, but it was somehow easy to befriend Bart. He was so open, friendly, positive, full of light and determined to befriend you that it was actually impossible to avoid it. After I befriended him, though, I noticed I started getting other friends as well because he made it easier. That’s actually also how I met Mari, the love of my life and my wife, which has me forever thankful to Bart, but that’s a story for another time. Right now, I’m here to tell you how great Bart is and also make fun of him, because isn’t that what best friends are for.

“So, like Mari already said, we had a group chat just because of those two. Favourite ship ever. Not gonna lie, we all shipped them together since the moment we realised how well they would fit together and the only reason today didn’t happen sooner is because this guy here—” Tim pointed at Adrien, “—refused to admit he liked Bart and scoffed every time we tried to suggest it. Yet, every time he made a terrible pun, and we all know he makes a lot of those, it was Bart he looked at first to see if it made him laugh. Always. Not his best friend, Mari. It was Bart.”

That was when Tim lost the microphone — Kon had walked up to them, now behind Tim, and just took it out of his hands. Tim tilted his head backwards and frowned at Kon.

“And Bart. Bart laughed every. Single. Time. Like, regardless of how horrible the pun was that time, and how it should have not made anyone laugh, Bart laughed because he knew it made Adrien smile, and happy Adrien equalled happy Bart equalled happy Adrien. This is why it was so strange they didn’t realise, and this is why them dancing around one another drove me up the wall. Tim and Mari too, I suppose. By the way. Here’s a list of pictures and videos where the aforementioned situation is shown multiple times so that you’ll understand what I mean.”

The (seemingly endless, if Adrien’s mortification was anything to go by) videos and pictures were projected onto a big screen and it seemed that no matter what Adrien thought, everyone else thought them adorable and heart-warming. Everyone. Especially Bart, who had not been aware of said pictures or videos’ existence and was now beaming and nearly jumping up and down in his seat. Marinette could almost swear he was vibrating.

Once they were done showing them, and the roomful of people had stopped cooing at Adrien like he was still that starry-eyed, adorable, baby-faced fool so very in love with Bart (he was), Kon brought the microphone to his lips again. “So yeah. We all had to suffer. And because of that, now you two had to suffer a little too,” he said, snorting.

Shaking his head fondly at the newlywed couple, he smiled. “You know, I have known Bart for nearly my entire life, and I never thought there would come a day I would meet anyone that was as much of a sunshine child as he was. Then we met Adrien.”

Tim nodded in the background, clearly agreeing. Marinette hummed. Kon handed her the microphone as she tapped her foot against the floor with her heel. “Yeah, same here, though the other way around — I thought there couldn’t be anyone I’d call sunshine incarnate other than Adrien, and then there I was, face to face with Bart who I swear glowed when I met him for the first time.”

Marinette sighed, smiled, and walked to Adrien and Bart. “So, Adrien, Bart, I am so immensely proud of you two. I can’t help but be happy whenever I think about you both overcoming so much and deciding to dedicate yourselves to one another and believe me when I say, I am so glad I got to witness you exchanging vows today. I wish all the best for you, as do those two dorks, and remember that we’re all going to be there for you both. You have two souls but a single thought, and two hearts that beat as one. This is the day that now belongs to one of the most beautiful things I have seen in my life and I could not be happier to have gotten to see it happen.” She raised her glass. “A toast to these two fools and to their union! May you always be satisfied!”

Marinette returned to her seat next to Tim and rested her head against his shoulder as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“I’m happy for them,” Marinette whispered, watching as Adrien danced with Bart, leading him, before Bart grabbed Adrien and picked him up before running around the room, presenting him like the greatest miracle ever granted for the humankind to everyone. Marinette squeezed Tim’s hand, smiling at their best friends.

“Same, Cuppie. Same here.”

_____________________________________

@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @maribat-is-lifeblood @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore @rebecarojas07 @corabeth11 @kadmeread @silverwhiteraven @freshbark @maribat-march2020 @catsandfanfic @fertileleaf @eat0crow @cutechip

#Timari #Bartadrien #Timinette #Bart x Adrien #tim x marinette #Maribat #maribatmarch2020 #ml x dc #dc #miraculous ladybug #ml #dc x mlb #tim drake #marinette dupain cheng #bart allen #adrien agreste #fanfic #fanfiction #Ethel's writing

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marisaaa · 5 years ago

Text

Layers

Robron week 2020 day 1 - first meeting

Aaron and Robert meet at a festival and fate just wants to bring them closer and closer together.

Ao3 link

The first time in ages. Liam Gallagher was playing at Leeds festival and Aaron had actually managed to get tickets. Him and his group of friends were all going for all three days and it was finally here.

Aaron sat on the train surrounded by his mates and apparently everyone else who had managed to get festival tickets. The train was packed. Girls in tiny tops and tiny shorts, boys half-naked and carrying the weirdest things around.

A massive inflatable crocodile was wedged in between Aaron and Adam as they sat on the seat opposite his girlfriend, Victoria and her mate Amy. Amy definitely had a crush on Aaron. She kept winking at him and licking her lips – Victoria had obviously noticed too but wasn’t saying anything. Victoria and Adam both knew he was gay but obviously hadn’t passed the memo onto Amy who was still sat ogling at an uncomfortable Aaron.

“Oi, man.” Adam said excitedly next to him, “This is going to be the best weekend of our lives!” Aaron nodded, smiling and making a face at Victoria who just rolled her eyes. “In a few weeks you are gonna be back in a boring classroom learning about brains.” Adam snorted, “enjoy your freedom while it lasts.”

“It’s Psychology, Adam.” Aaron corrected him, “It’s not just about brains.”

Aaron had worked his butt off and had been accepted in the Royal Holloway College to study Psychology, it had been his dream. Finally he could leave the tiny Yorkshire village and do something for himself. Adam, however had flunked his exams and was set to working at the farm for the rest of his life. Not that he was complaining.

Victoria and Amy were a year below so they still had another year ahead of them to decide what they wanted to do – either stay working for their parents in the village or do something else.

“Well right now, I couldn’t care less,” Adam joked as the train slowed, “because we are here!”

Victoria and Amy wooped as they stood up and picked their stuff up from their feet, getting ready to leave the carriage.

“How long is this line?” Aaron moaned as he dropped the bag he was barely holding up, “I swear we’ve been waiting days.”

The queue into the festival itself was looped around the arena several times and they hadn’t even got to the point to collect their wristbands yet. His legs and shoulders were screaming for rest, but the line seemed to keep moving but still going absolutely nowhere – meaning he could not sit down for a second.

“Aaron if I hear another complaint leave your mouth, it will be last thing you ever complain about.” Victoria warned, giving him an evil look.

It was hot, sunny and they were all tired. None of them were going to get on when it was like this.

Suddenly, Victoria stood up straight and leaned over the temporary fencing to see someone ahead of them in the queue who were facing the opposite way.

“No way.” She said quietly, before shouting, “Robert!”

Aaron’s gaze shot up from where he was staring at the floor to a tall, blonde man with a smile on his face as he flirted with another girl.

He had heard of the infamous Robert Sugden. Victoria adored him but Andy an ongoing grudge, refusing to speak about him at most times. Robert had left the village with their mother after a nasty custody battle with their dad. Jack was given custody of Victoria but Andy and Robert were given their own choice, considering their age. Robert chose Sarah and Andy chose Jack - no surprises there.

Robert and Sarah moved away very soon after that – Victoria mentioned the south - and they’d barely been spoken about since. Aaron was only about 12 at the time so he had other things he thought would be better to do than worry about another family’s problems.

“Victoria?” Robert stared in disbelief, “What are you doing here?”

He apologised to the people in front of him as he pushed forward to lean over the barrier and give her a hug, “I would say you’ve grown but-”

Victoria jokingly punched him in the arm and smiled, “And you haven’t got any less annoying, I see.”

Robert scoffed and looked behind her, “These your friends?”

Victoria turned around and grabbed Adam by the arm, “This is my boyfriend, Adam.”

Robert reached his arm out to shake Adam’s hand, looking him up and down.

"It’s so good to finally meet you.” Adam told him as he shook his hand eagerly, Robert smiled and nodded before looking over at Aaron.

Butterflies immediately filled his stomach. He felt himself blush under the stare of such a beautiful person, his green eyes twinkling in the light. Even with green glitter and paint stuck in his hair he was still absolutely perfect.

Aaron quickly cleared his throat and stepped forward, bringing his hand out to shake Robert’s, suddenly self-conscious about his palms that were most likely very sweaty. “Aaron.” He introduced himself, not tearing his gaze away from Robert’s who looked like he couldn’t look away either.

Amy’s voice ruined the moment and Robert’s eyes moved away from Aaron’s, “I’m Amy.” She said sweetly, “Victoria’s best friend.”

Robert laughed and greeted her back before Victoria spoke again.

“We’re celebrating Aaron and Adam’s – well mostly Aaron’s – A level results.” She exclaimed, smiling widely. “Aaron’s been accepted into a London uni!”

Robert’s eyes were back on Aaron’s again and he felt himself go even redder as he looked down at his feet.

“Is that so?” Robert said smoothly, still staring at Aaron, his lips upturned in a smile.

Aaron looked back up at Robert and his heart started beating hard in his chest and he smiled back and nodded. God, his lips were beautiful.

Suddenly a shout behind him made Robert turn quickly and wave. “I’ve got to go, Vic.” He apologised, looking back at his sister, “I’ll try to find you though, once we’re in.”

They said their quick goodbyes and Robert turned and pushed through the crowd again as it moved against him.

Their gazes caught again as the line moved, and Aaron couldn’t help but notice the smile on Robert’s face as he looked away.

Liam was performing on the second night so the first day just consisted of them looking around at all the small performers and seeing the prices of food.

They’d set up their tents by the wall separating the park but not too far away from the main stage so they could still hear the music.

Adam already had the cans of beer out and Amy and Victoria were painting each other’s faces. Aaron sat back on his camp chair and listened to Adam rambling on about something irrelevant as he soaked in the rare sunshine and smelled the smoke of barbecues in the atmosphere.

It was dusk and the music from the live performance was dying down as people were sat around their small campsites.

“Okay, never have I ever...” Amy started, “kissed a member of the same sex.”

Aaron downed the last of the beer in his can and finished with a refreshed sigh as he threw the empty can on the ground. Adam and Victoria burst into fits of laughter and Aaron smirked at them. Amy looked puzzled.

“Am I missing something?” she asked them, looking towards Victoria.

Victoria made eye contact with Aaron and he nodded, “Aaron’s gay, you div.” she told her with a laugh.

Amy’s head turned sharply to face him and he pretended to bow his head.

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot!” she exclaimed, burying her face in her hands.

Aaron leaned over and patted her shoulder, “Don’t worry, Amy.” He reassured her, “You’re not the only one. I can’t help I’m so irresistible.”

Adam snorted and sprayed the beer that was in his mouth all over the grass in front of them, earning him a disgusted response from the girls.

“Okay, my turn.” Aaron steered the conversation back. “Never have I ever-“

But someone behind Victoria’s head stole his focus. Robert was walking over to them, his muscly arms were flexing underneath a white shirt as he carried a bag over his shoulder, the glitter still evident on his face was glimmering in the small light of the fires.

“We’re waiting.” Amy’s voice appeared.

Aaron just gestured towards the man striding over and all their heads turned. Victoria stood up as he got to where they were sat.

“Victoria, guys.” He greeted them with a smile, glancing over at Aaron again, making his stomach do somersaults.

“Rob, how has your day been?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips.

Robert sighed, “Could’ve gone better. My mate and his girlfriend had a row.” He explained, “thought it would be better to leave them to their awkwardness for tonight.”

Victoria frowned, “Oh, that’s a shame. Where will you be sleeping?”

He shrugged and gestured towards their tents, “I was hoping you had room for a stowaway?”

Aaron gulped. Robert staying with them? He didn’t know how to feel. Before anyone could react, Victoria took his back of his shoulder and told him he was welcome.

“Hang on, which tent is he going to sleep in?” Adam asked, pointing to the three tents lined up next to them.

“Well he can share Aaron’s, can’t he?” Victoria answered.

All eyes were on him now. One pair of green eyes included a small smirk, too. They made eye contact and Aaron’s breath hitched. It was really the only option for them to share. Adam and Victoria were using the same tent and Amy and Aaron had brought their own.

“Yeah- yeah sure.” Aaron stuttered nervously as the small smirk turned into a grin.

“All sorted then!” Victoria said happily as she pulled Robert’s camp chair out from the side of his bag.

The tent felt a lot smaller with an added body. Robert’s presence was massively affecting Aaron. He didn’t even have much stuff it was just… the feeling of him laying right next to him made Aaron much more nervous than he should.

Aaron was laying on his back in his sleeping bag as he watched Robert add another jumper to his layers of clothes, underneath a sleeping bag and blanket.

“Do you have enough clothes?” Aaron teased jokingly, causing Robert to turn around mid-change.

“These are my night clothes.” Robert explained, “the rest are at my tent.”

Aaron nodded in understanding and Robert turned to face him once he’d gotten his jumper on. Their faces were very close and Aaron could almost feel Robert’s breath on his face, making his own breathing falter.

“So… are you here with anyone?” Aaron asked quickly, trying to break the tension, “Not here here but like- at the festival.”

Robert shook his head, not looking away from Aaron’s eyes. Aaron smiled a bit at that but tried to play it off cool. “Just me and my mate wanted to have a catch up. Didn’t realise his girlfriend was part of the plan.” Robert explained.

Aaron sniggered. “Guess they come as a package deal.”

“I guess they do.” He whispered.

Another silence fell over them and Aaron awkwardly bit the inside of his lip. “What about Amy? Do you think she’s-”

“I don’t want to talk about girls.” Robert interrupted him.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Aaron retorted, watching as Robert’s gaze moved from his eyes to his lips. Aaron absent mindedly licked his lips ever so quickly before Robert surged forward, crashing their mouths together.

The air was kicked out of Aaron’s lungs as he realised what was happening. Robert Sugden was kissing him. Robert let out the smallest moan as he pushed on his lips more before pulling back.

Their eyes met again but this time, Robert’s looked more fearful. As if he were worried about what Aaron would think.

“Why did you stop?” Aaron whispered, looking back and forth between Robert’s pink lips and his eyes.

Apparently, that was all the information Robert needed as he let out a shaky breath and propped himself up on his elbow so he was hovering above Aaron, both of them smiling into another kiss.

Robert’s mouth parted slightly and Aaron felt his tongue across the tops of his lips as he deepened the kiss and brought his hand up to clasp the back of Robert’s head, gliding his fingers through his soft hair.

Aaron felt with his other hand around to where Robert’s jumper sat on his hip, trying to feel for the skin there. Damn, the layers.

Robert pulled back, his eyes still shut, “Layers.” He whispered, stifling a small laugh.

Aaron nodded in response and moved his hand onto Robert’s waist, above his jumper before pulling Robert back down to kiss him again.

It was cold. Aaron’s feet were turning into ice cubes by the second and the air gaps in his sleeping bag were just voids of below zero temperatures.

Shivering, he turned around to see Robert, curled up next to him, a jumper folded underneath his head as he breathed deeply.

Aaron shakily brought his hand out from his sleeping bag and shook Robert awake, watching as his eyes fluttered open and his legs started to stretch inside his sleeping bag.

“Robert?” he whispered, “Robert, do you have another jumper?”

Robert took a deep breath in as he lifted his head and threw the pillow that was underneath it on top of Aaron.

“What about a pillow?” Aaron asked, unfolding the jumper.

Robert smiled and opened his eyes wider, “I have you for that, don’t I?”

Aaron chuckled and quickly put the jumper on over his head, fidgeting as he got himself fully inside his sleeping bag again. He could feel Robert’s eyes on him as he settled onto his back.

Robert shifted and placed his head comfortably onto Aaron’s chest, letting out a contented sigh as he did so. Aaron weaved his arm out from underneath Robert and the sleeping bag to wrap it around Robert’s sleeping form, squeezing him gently as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

He awoke to birds chirping and people talking what seemed like right outside his tent. Aaron looked around and saw he was alone inside the tent and any evidence of another person being there had disappeared.

Looking at his watch, Aaron saw it was 6am. Way too early – but he could hear Adam and Victoria’s voices outside so he knew he wouldn’t get away with sleeping any longer.

He slowly got up and ducked out of the tent to see Adam and Victoria sat on their camp chairs, both holding a bowl of what looked like porridge.

“Good morning, my man!” Adam greeting a little too loudly for this early in the morning, “Would you like some slop made by the missus herself?”

Victoria gave him a playful slap on the knee and stood up to spoon a serving of the liquid into a bowl and handed it to Aaron as he brought out his own camp chair.

“Thanks.” He said as he sat down, grunting at the pain in his back.

“How did you sleep?” Victoria asked, crossing one leg over the other as she sat back down in her small chair.

“Yeah, fine.” Aaron answered, playing with the mixture in his bowl.

“I’m guessing Robert didn’t wake you when he left, then?” Adam said through a mouthful of porridge, “Disappeared without a trace.”

“He hasn’t disappeared, Adam.” Victoria corrected, “I said he’s probably just gone back to his mates.”

Aaron hoped it wasn’t because of him. Maybe he’d woken up a lot more sober and realised that their activities last night was a mistake and he didn’t want to face them sober.

At least Adam and Victoria weren’t aware of what happened.

The rest of the festival was great. They saw a load of great artists perform, got drunk in the daytime and danced until they got warnings from the guards.

Robert hadn’t been seen again the rest of the weekend. Aaron knew it was by a massive chance that they would bump into him again, given the sheer amount of people at the festival but it didn’t stop his heart from lurching every time he saw a tall blonde man across the crowds.

One month later

Aaron knocked on the door of the small terraced house as he watched the taxi drive off. He was starting uni in a few days and had found a great deal on a room share in the outskirts of London- saving him from having to pay for accommodation in the university itself.

He saw movement on the other side of the blurred window and a lock clicked open as a guy with messy brown hair opened the door and looked at him with a puzzled face.

“I’m – um – I’m here about the room share?” Aaron nervously asked, worried for a second that he’d got the wrong house.

The man’s face suddenly changed into understanding and he stepped back, opening the door wider to let Aaron in.

“Of course!” he exclaimed as Aaron walked further in, “Completely slipped my mind that it was today.”

He shut the door behind Aaron and helped pick up his bags.

“I’m Max, by the way.” He introduced himself as he awkwardly held the bags in the small hallway, “My room’s the one next to yours.”

“Aaron.” He replied, smiling and looking at the decorated walls.

“I’ll show you to your room then!” Max said eagerly as he stood on the first step and made his way slowly up the stairs, hitting the bags on the banister as he went.

Aaron could hear voices downstairs in the kitchen as he nervously followed Max up the stairs but was intrigued when he could hear the faint sounds of an Oasis song coming from behind a shut door.

Max stopped at the shut door and dropped the bags.

“I love this song.” Aaron told him as Max lifted his hand to turn the handle. He looked up and smiled.

“Oh nice, gives you something for you two to bond over.” He said as he opened the door and stepped into the room, “Rob, meet Aaron.” He called.

Aaron stepped into the small room behind him, nervously smiling but as soon as he saw the man sat at the desk, his face fell and the butterflies in his stomach fluttered out of their cage.

Robert spun around on his chair and his eyes were wide, but a smile was very much evident on his face. “A- Aaron?” he asked in disbelief.

“Robert.” Aaron breathed out, his heart hammering in his chest.

#rw2020 #robron fic

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phcking-detective · 5 years ago

Text

9. Positive Reinforcement

Fic Title: First Blood

Rating: E

Length: 9/33 chapters, ~128k

Tags: Slow Burn, Idiots to Lovers, Trans Character (gavin), Autistic / Asexual / Non-binary Character (nines), BDSM, learning to use good etiquette and safe words, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Tags: hospitals, hurt/comfort, domestic, Nines takes care of Gavin, caring Dom Nines, Gavin has a mood swing / shouting episode but there’s no partner abuse, using BDSM instead of therapy (not recommended btw)

Link on AO3

***

Hospitals suck ass.

Gavin repeats this mantra to himself like one of those meditation techniques. It's not enough to block out how his hip keeps slipping between the three chairs he's trying to lay on horizontally or how fucking cold it is in nothing but jeans and Nines' stupid fucking Cyberlife jacket or the bright fucking florescent—

"Detective."

Gavin squints up at Nines' sudden appearance like he's looking at a miracle—inherently suspicious and wondering what the fucking catch is. He's woozy and tired and somehow also hungry, the nurse took four tries to find his vein, and Tina didn't answer any of his calls from the courtesy phone because who the hell answers phone calls?

"What are you doing?" Nines asks in the sort of tone normally reserved for walking in on someone trying to suck their own dick.

Not that Gavin's ever tried.

"I'm sleeping, fuck off."

"On three separate chairs?"

"You know what?" Gavin sits up and stabs a finger against the android's steel fucking stomach. "I'm tired, I don't have a phone or my wallet, I can't pay for a cab, Tina isn't answering, and I don't—"

The finger-stabs turn into punches.

"Have. Any. Other. Friends!"

Nines stands there, letting Gavin punch him until the bruised knuckles aren't worth it anymore. The waiting room starts to sway. Fuck, he really needs a snack or something right now. One free cookie and a juice box just isn't going to cut it.

"Here."

The inside of the jacket suddenly begins to warm up. Nice to know it could have done that the entire FUCKING time. Nines also produces Gavin's cellphone from his pants' pocket and offers it to him. Gavin snatches it back and stares at the screen.

"Can't phcking read this," he mutters.

Nines produces his headphones too. When all Gavin does is take them back and hold them stupidly in his other hand, Nines crouches down in front of him. His fucking head hurts so bad, Gavin actually sits quietly and doesn't complain while Nines plugs in the headphones and then puts the earbuds inside his ears.

Your jacket is at the dry cleaners. Nines' voice sounds in his head at a mercifully low volume. I have brought your truck and ordered you a large number five meal with a strawberry milkshake.

Gavin slumps forward and lets his head rest on Nines' shoulder so he doesn't cry. He punches the android's arm and chest a few more times for good measure. It doesn't even crinkle his fancy black dress shirt. Nines stays perfectly still and allows this too.

Your food is becoming cold, detective.

Gavin grunts. He'll get up in a second.

Nines decides he'll get up right now. Those ridiculous fucking yaoi hands grabbing his thighs is the only warning he gets before he's hoisted in the air and held against Nines' chest. Which—fuck, that's hot, but not here!

"Fuck off tin can, leggo!"

Gavin puts up a fight against his partner's gay shit because there are people watching. He can see them right over Nines' shoulder, the nurse at the front desk and the six other people in the waiting room. Yeah, shit's a lot better for gay people now, but that doesn't mean he wants the entire hospital to know what a bottom bitch he is.

"Don't fucking hold me like a fucking child," he complains as they reach the automatic doors.

A second later, Nines shifts him into his arms bridal style, like that's any better.

"Hold me like a man, god damn it!"

Then he's slung over Nines' shoulder in a fireman's hold. Between the giving blood wooziness and suddenly being upside down, he has to stop yelling and just focus on breathing for a second. The rush of cold air when they get out to the parking lot helps.

Even better, when he opens his eyes again, he's greeted by an up-close view of Nines' ass in tight dress pants. Best of all are the thick, powerful thighs right beneath it, marching away. A little bit lower, and he could just bury his face between those thighs and suffocate the way God intended.

Car tires crunch against the asphalt in front of them and Gavin's pretty sure he recognizes the blurry, upside-down image of his truck between Nines' legs. Has the automated driving feature always been capable of being remote controlled, or is that just some freaky shit that Nines did to it?

He doesn't get a chance to think any more about it before he's flipped upright, set inside his truck, and buckled into the passenger's seat like a toddler. It's a miracle he hasn't dropped his phone or had his headphones ripped out of his ears yet.

"I hate you," he tells Nines, just to make sure the android knows.

Nines takes the bag of fast food off the dash and sets it in his lap.

Occupy your mouth.

Gavin makes a face at him. Why's everything he say have to sound so ominously dominating? The passenger door shuts in his face before he can think of something smarter than I'll occupy your mouth though, so he settles for grabbing his milkshake and making loud slurping noises. Nines gets in on the driver's side and immediately takes the milkshake from him, so he counts it as a success. He's too hungry and tired of hurting his hands to try hitting him for it, so he digs into the food bag.

A large number five, fried chicken club sandwich, none of that stupid special sauce, extra ketchup.

Gavin really can't help the moan he makes when he bites into it. But there's only so much toxic masculinity even he can handle, and he'll moan like a bitch if he wants to moan like a bitch. As long as it's just the two of them.

"Mmphfgh. So."

Swallow.

Shit. Fuck, his headphones are still in. Gavin rolls his eyes to try to shake off how he jumped, but he does still swallow his bite before talking again.

"How'd you know to come get me? Tina never answered."

I know the location of the Henry Ford Medical Center, detective.

"Yeah, but who told you to come get me?"

It was an independent decision.

Gavin takes another huge bite of his sandwich to think that over. Some ketchup squirts out the other side onto his fingers, and he sucks it off as obnoxiously loud as possible. Nines flashes red in his peripheral vision. Well, he can't actually see the LED because it's on the wrong side, but he can see his partner's reflection in the driver's side window.

"You find the perp loitering nearby?" he finally asks.

No.

Gavin tries to think of any other reason Nines would come get him but comes up empty.

"So, why did you …?"

He takes another long drink of his milkshake to avoid putting whatever this is into words. Take care of me makes him sound like a child and do the nicest shit anyone's done for me in years (or maybe ever) just sounds pathetic.

We need to get back to work. Humans need food after donating blood. Your jacket needed to be cleaned.

All right, those are simple explanations. Yeah. Maybe that's just how Nines sees it. He doesn't have a social module, so he was probably just solving a series of problems, completing his task list or whatever. Not like. Actually caring.

Except then Nines turns and says out loud with soul-searing intensity, "You are my partner."

Gavin does the only reasonable thing and stuffs an entire handful of fries in his mouth so he doesn't have to look at those pretty blue eyes staring at him like he's important. Or do some gay shit, like cry.

He's not going to cry. It's just been a long day, that's all. He makes the mistake of looking at the dashboard clock.

11:36 am

Fuck.

***

(9 hours later …)

Mmm warm good smell. Food smell. Gavin takes another greedy inhale and feels the warm thing touch his lips. He instinctively takes a bite before he even finishes waking up. It tastes good and kind of chewy, if a little bland. He snuffles and licks the fingers that fed it to h—

Wait, fucking whom'st fingers is he licking right now?

"Fascinating."

Gavin swats the hand away and glares up at Nines hovering over him. "What the fuck did you just make me eat?"

Nines cocks his head to the side. He looks more like a creepy animatronic owl than the cute puppy eyes Connor gives when he does it.

"Can you not tell?" the android asks.

"Can you blow me?"

"I tried that on a banana," Nines says casually, as if that mental image makes any kind of sense.

"Whuh—wh—"

Gavin smacks his lips together and tries to figure out what his mouth tastes like right now. Kind of … cheesy? Like pasta maybe, but without any flavor. Whatever he swallowed was dry at least, so no sauce or anything.

"Why?"

"To know if I could," Nines replies. "My combat protocols automatically activated and my jaw locked shut."

"OK, so you can't eat bananas, but what the fuck did I eat?" Gavin demands.

"Technically, I did eat the banana," Nines says. "Partially. My jaw snapped shut after taking a bite of it inside my oral cavity."

Gavin's dick starts listening to the conversation. It's because of karma and maybe some sort of android fucking witchcraft that now his dick gets hard listening to the bitchiest most stuck up Alexa ever say the words "oral cavity."

Of course Nines notices the reaction right away. Because fuck his whole entire life, that's why. Nines stares down at his crotch and Gavin can practically hear a zzzzzz as his eyes zoom in on his traitor dick.

"Fascinating."

"Tell me what you fucking fed me or I swear to God, I'll—"

"One cheese ravioli."

Gavin stares at him. "A cheese … did it even have sauce?"

"No, I washed that off."

Gavin opens his mouth, stares harder at that completely serious face, and shuts it again. He pinches the bridge of his nose instead, rubbing over the thick gnarl of scar tissue there.

"Why …"

But that's all he can bring himself to say. For once, Nines is the one who has no trouble with speaking.

"So it wouldn't drip on the carpet," he says, like that's obvious.

"You really think a bit of Prego is gonna be the worst this carpet's ever seen?" Gavin asks.

Nines' face darkens into a scowl that would be terrifying if Gavin didn't know this was his version of pouting. "Do not remind me. I have deleted fifty-seven analysis reports this last hour alone."

Gavin rolls his eyes. "Well, why'd you feed me a cheese ravioli?"

"To save the beef ravioli as a higher value treat."

Gavin looks him over. His left arm hangs down casually by his side, but his hand presses slightly behind his crouched thigh. It looks like he's holding something in one of those magician's grip that makes his hand appear loose and open while something is secretly tucked into his palm.

"You may have the beef ravioli if you sit at the table," Nines tells him.

He stands up and takes a few steps backwards toward the kitchen, raising up his hand to reveal the ravioli. Gavin gets off the couch and marches toward him to kick his ass, but the android matches his pace exactly to step backwards until they're right next to the table. He opens his mouth to start yelling, which immediately proves to be a mistake.

Nines shoves the ravioli directly into his open mouth. Gavin automatically bites down, but the android's reflexes are too quick for him, and he gets his fingers clear before being bitten. Instead, Gavin only bites into delicious beefy filling.

And he would spit it out. He really would, right onto Nines' perfectly shined shoes.

Except it's been a long ass day filled with paperwork about what happened with the reporter and no other goddamn leads and he has no idea how late it is since he fell asleep on the couch, but it's definitely past suppertime and he's hungry as fuck.

(Also, maybe he remembers the consequences of the last time he tried to spit at Nines, and his traitor-dick needs to Shut Up about that.)

Gavin chews the beef ravioli with the angriest face he can muster. It doesn't help that it's really fucking good, way better than the takeout and ramen he usually lives on. Nines opens the lid of the to go box sitting on the kitchen table, and the best smell his trash apartment has ever encountered steams out.

Gavin sits his angry ass down and starts to eat. Fuck him if he's going to waste good food. Most of the ravioli is beef, but there's some cheese-filled ones too, mixed in with the rest in a thick meaty sauce. Nines sits in the seat across the table to stare at him while he eats. Fucking creeper. Always one step behind him, staring at him, following him back home like they're friends or something.

"Why the fuck are you still here?" he deliberately asks with his mouth full.

"Juarez is currently our best lead to identifying the shooter," Nines answers. "As she may wake from her coma at any time, it is most efficient for me to stay with you in the event we are called during off duty hours."

Gavin chews his food. His partner is real fucking good at coming up with totally logical answers that he can't argue against without looking stupid even though he just knows that's bullshit.

"Whatever," he says. "I'm not paying you back for this. Or the chicken sandwich."

Nines keeps staring at him with those blank, lizard eyes. "I did not ask you to."

Gavin pushes back his chair and slams his hands on the table, yelling "Fuck you!" before he even knows what hits him. His moods are like that sometimes.

Nines doesn't even blink.

Usually, that sort of shit would just set him off even more. The lack of response sure as hell drove him to push harder and harder when they first got assigned as partners. Now Gavin just feels stupid, shouting at someone just sitting there.

Stupid. Fuck, he always does this shit. He knows this. He <i>knows</i> this.

"I don't …" Gavin forces himself to exhale slowly out through his teeth, gripping the edge of the table so he doesn't throw something. "Need. Your charity."

Stupid stupid stupid.

"You are my partner," Nines says.

Monotone. Four words and not a single inflection. When Gavin finally makes himself look up from panting at the grain of the fake-wooden table, Nines' face is just as blank. It should probably trigger some sort of uncanny valley lurch in his stomach, but without any micro-expressions for his brain goblins to pick up on and start screeching about, Gavin's anger starts slipping away like resin on tarp.

He looks back down at the table so he doesn't have to see his partner's face.

"If you cannot accept your own rule that partners look out for each other, consider this an investment to ensure you are recovered for our next shift tomorrow."

Gavin exhales again. Then inhales. Stupid. Exhale. At least he didn't throw anything. Inhale. This time.

"Also, I am applying Pavlovian training to encourage behaviors convenient to me."

Gavin sits back down and rubs both hands through his hair. "You're dog training me?"

"Positive reinforce—"

"You can't fix this," Gavin growls out, then gestures to himself and the kitchen at large. "This! Me. Anyone can read a fucking psychology book, dipshit—I already know what's wrong with me. If I could just good behavior myself into getting better, I would have done it already."

Nines' composure finally breaks as he blinks. "I am not a KL-nine-hundred unit, detective. I have absolutely no intention of—"

Gavin groans because he knows the air quotes are coming. Nines looks him dead in the eyes and does them anyway.

"—'fixing' you."

"I hate you."

"I only want to encourage relevant behaviors," Nines continues without acknowledging the outburst. "Such as doing your own paperwork rather than playing games on your phone."

Gavin grunts and manages to take another bite now that he's settled down some. Sure, maybe he'd been dumping all his paperwork on Nines now that the android has proven he knows how to do it properly. But he gets it done way faster and trying to make letters hold still on a bright ass computer screen gives him the worst headaches. God, he probably needs reading glasses at this point but he'd rather his entire head split open than wear that kind of shit at the station.

"Listening to my input at crime scenes."

"Hhegh," Gavin says around a mouth full of beef.

"Basic table manners."

Gavin swallows. "Hey. Fuck off, I do listen to you. I have been, so don't fucking sit there and try to tell me—"

"You have been," Nines says.

Gavin stops with his mouth hanging open. Dammit, he was just getting good and pissed off again, and then the bastard goes and agrees with him. What the hell is he supposed to say to that? It's definitely a trap. Like sarcasm, or some sort of passive aggressive ...

Something.

"Throughout our current case, you have taken note of my input," Nines says. "I was not implying otherwise, simply that I would start rewarding you for doing so."

Gavin narrows his eyes at him. "Yeah? Why?"

"I was forced to work with other humans at the Juarez residence." Nines finally finds some inflection to say other humans like he means radioactive screaming toddlers. "It was not ideal. And while I certainly will not beg for your continued cooperation, I am not above bribery as a means to ensure I can do my work in peace rather than relying on … the kindness of your heart."

Gavin grunts again and goes back to his food. Eating slightly cold ravioli is easier than making eye contact with his partner right now. He might have been a teensy bit better lately, but obviously he's not some kind of android rights activist. If Nines is worried he's going to flip back to being an asshole on a whim or a bad day or because other people were watching, well.

That's pretty fucking fair, to be honest.

"Dog training though?" he mutters after a minute. "Really?"

"I have read many human psychology books." Nines pauses, then adds, "Dipshit."

Gavin snorts and lets the insult pass.

"I can recite them. I understand the words. But they are merely words to me," Nines admits slowly. "Dog training books are much more simple."

"Is this a kink thing?"

Nines rolls his eyes. "Gavin, would you care to explain to me in honest and personal detail why offering food triggered such an immediate and violent reaction? Please include at least three references to your childhood."

Gavin shoves more ravioli in his mouth and smacks as loudly as possible as he chews.

"Then perhaps you would prefer a simpler way of relating to one another," Nines speaks over the noise. "No emotional sharing, no childhood details, no sad sob stories about what made you like this. You behave, you get food. That is all."

"What if I don't behave?" Gavin immediately challenges.

"Then you do not receive any food or treats."

"You gonna punish me, sir?"

Nines glares down his perfectly sculpted nose at him. "If you had listened to my explanation on the benefits of positive reinforcement, you would already know why it is the more effective training method."

Gavin resists the urge to repeat thE MorE eFFeCtIve TrAInInG MeTHoD back at him.

"Also," Nines continues. "You are far too much of a needy little painslut to be truly punished by corporeal means."

Gavin focuses very hard on mopping up the rest of the meat sauce with his side of garlic bread instead of answering that. Even when they know better, he's never met a Dom he couldn't piss off into beating the shit out of him just like he wanted. Technically, if they're counting their little "scene" in the DPD's men's bathroom, Nines hasn't proven himself to be an exception, either.

"Well." He stands up and leaves the mess on the table. "Good luck with your totally not a kink pet play. I'm gonna go watch funny youtube videos until my brain dies."

"Cat videos?" Nines asks as he passes him, raising one perfect eyebrow. "Am I to assume those are not also a pet play ki—"

Gavin flips him off and slams his bedroom door shut.

***

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / 31 / 32 / 33

I also have a Patreon for this fic, if you want to support me! $1 gets you access to chapters a week early, $2 gets bonus content and deleted scenes, and $3 gets short chapters from two AUs I’m writing: an A/B/O heatfic and reverse!AU

by the way, Nines totally posted a video of himself feeding asleep-Gavin the ravioli to his blog and it has a weird overly formal title like Human (36M) Instinctively Eats Ravioli During the Course of REM Sleep. all of his posts are like that because they’re meant to be “educational” “”experiments”” and the text posts are just black text on a white background

meanwhile, Connor’s blog consists exclusively of super cute pictures featuring either him and Hank on dates or cuddling on the couch, and Sumo of course. Nines thinks it’s disgusting and dumb and is lowkey (actually highkey) upset that Connor’s blog gets way more views than his

It isn’t even educational!! >:(

#reed900 #reed900 fic #gavin reed #dbh #dbh fic #my writing #ch 9 #the patreon supports my transition and I have my first HRT appointment in 11 days!!

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fifiliphaser · 5 years ago

Text

love and tumble (Cherik ficlets): 2

[AO3 Version]

1 | 2 | 3 | TBC

A collection of ficlets, based on the prompt list from this post. Focused on Cherik, with possible appearances of other characters and/or ships. Various AUs, as well as canon compliant stories. There will be information about every story in the notes at the beginning: the setting, rating, characters, etc. Stories are proof-read, but not beta-ed, so I'd be grateful for any and all comments.

So, yeah. Those stories were supposed to be between 100 and 1,000 words. Yeah. Clearly, I'm incapable of writing something short, so have what started of as a short scene from the XMFC road trip, but then escalated to 3k or so words of angst, a lot of emotions, and a lot of cheesiness. I hope you'll like it, because that was a wild ride and I'm not really sure about this story.

2. “Stay here tonight.” (XMFC; Gay Mutant Road Trip)

Rating: T X-Men: First Class, Gay Mutant Road Trip Angst with a happy ending, bickering, angry confessions, mind reading, forehead touching. Warnings: internalized homophobia, an instance of homophobic language (but only one)

“I must say, I thought you’d enjoy our stay in Chicago much more,” Erik’s words break through the haze of pain that Charles does his best to suppress.

Although Erik’s tone is rather mocking, Charles can feel the waves of worry coming off of him, the man’s mind buzzing with uncertainty and distress. It would be truly touching, how much Erik seems to care for Charles’s well-being, if only the telepath wasn’t in the middle of staving off a particularly bad case of headache.

“I do enjoy it,” Charles says firmly, though his voice sounds strained even to his own ears. “There is just so many people here,” he complains, falling into the bed in hopes that the shift to a horizontal position will help.

It doesn’t. Not in the slightest.

“There’s a lot of people at the compound, too,” Erik points out, a single brow raised sceptically, which is equally as annoying as it is endearing.

“But not as many.” Charles grunts, lifting his hand up to cover his eyes and hopefully cut off some of the unforgiving brightness of the ceiling lights. “I like big cities, but they’re exhausting.”

Which is true. He’s never been the one to despise the metropolitan hustle and bustle; at the same time, however, it has never failed to tire him out beyond compare, what with the incessant chatter of thoughts of all kinds; some joyous, some furious, some anxious. Too many emotions, too much information, and even his shields hasn’t been enough to keep it all out. As a result, he’s already ended up with a splitting headache, just two days into their stay in Chicago.

“Any way I could help you?,” Erik asks from the armchair that he’s just sat in, taking his usual spot at the table they’ve been using to play chess.

His room is just down the hall, but they’ve been spending most of the time at Charles’s, their heated discussions and close-fought chess matches engaging enough to keep them up long into the night. Not that there has been anything more to it, Charles muses somewhat forlornly. Erik has no idea about Charles’s less than desirable inclinations, and it’s best if it stayed this way as Charles would rather die than lose so close a friend, the closest person he’s ever got to, perhaps beside Raven, even if it is the most gorgeous man he’s ever encountered.

“There’s really not much you can do,” Charles mutters resignedly, trying not to think about the sharp cheekbones and the piercingly magnetic eyes. “I’ll just have to suffer through it.” He squeezes his hand around his temples, wishing that the soft pressure could somehow alleviate his pain.

“Ever as dramatic,” comes Erik’s cheeky remark, which Charles would probably appreciate much more if not for his agony.

“The pot calling the kettle.” His voice sounds rather small, and yet there’s a strain of annoyance to it that Charles would normally feel sorry for, but he doesn’t have the capacity for it right now, not when his head feels as though it was about to burst.

Charles is waiting for a witty retort, but there doesn’t come any. In fact, the silence stretches for so long that Charles is ready to soldier on and look up, despite the blinding light, as he cannot put a finger on what Erik thinks at the moment, the man’s thoughts humming lightly, yet kept at bay. Luckily, Erik chooses this exact moment to speak up.

“You’re not up for the game, that is?” It’s more of a statement than a question, even if it’s laced with certain uneasiness.

Squeezing his eyes tighter, Charles allows a small sad smile to curl on his lips.

“Oh, I’d love to,” he assures weakly, trying not to make any sharp movements, “but I’m afraid my game would be rather poor tonight.”

There’s another beat of silence, and this time Charles can tell that Erik feels rather troubled and unsure of how to proceed. Charles hears a quiet sigh, followed by the sound of steps which fades as Erik walks onto the carpet. Judging by the way the light above him fades somewhat, Charles assumes that Erik must be leaning over him, even if the telepath’s too tired to open his eyes and check.

“You look miserable.” Erik’s voice is much closer now, albeit softer and more sympathetic.

“I feel miserable, too, my friend,” Charles mumbles, his words barely coherent.

The bed sinks slightly next to him, the light brightening once again, and Charles almost gives in to the urge to turn to his side, away from where Erik is now sitting.

“Is there really nothing I could do?”

Charles feels a feather-like touch on his shoulder, which quickly vanishes. He has to force himself not to lean closer to his companion.

“No.” The word leaves his mouth more sharply than he intended, but Charles doesn’t find it in himself to care, what with his willpower seriously dwindling.

He knows what he really wants to tell Erik, and yet, at the same time, he knows it is the last thing he’d like his friend to hear. Besides, Charles is certain that it wouldn’t help now, not in the middle of their road trip, with nowhere to run to, and with that terrible headache.

“Are you sure?” Erik is relentless in his hunt for a solution to Charles’s discomfort, something that, were the circumstances more congenial, could even be quite sweet.

But all that Charles wants right now is to bury himself beneath the sheets in a futile attempt to make himself disappear. Well, that’s not exactly accurate, although Charles would rather avoid naming all those other things which he so strongly desires—like the touch of those lips, swollen from kissing, on his skin, those elegant nimble fingers running down his spine…

Charles flops himself onto his stomach, struggling to quell the arousal pooling in the pit of his stomach. It’s ridiculous, really—his head is pounding—but his mind manages to conjure those images anyway—so inappropriate, so enticingly… wrong. A quiet groan escapes Charles’s throat. He knows all too well that the attraction to people of your own sex isn’t all that uncommon, and yet there is that venomous voice at the back of his mind whispering to him how unacceptable it is, how deviant.

“You’re testing my patience, Erik,” Charles mumbles into the pillow, pushing all those unwanted thoughts aside.

“You’re a liability to our mission in that state, Charles,” Erik states from somewhere above him, and if it was anyone else, Charles would feel a little hurt at the mere suggestion that he’s a liability. But it’s Erik, who tends to say such things to hide how much he truly cares, which didn’t escape Charles’s attention. Perhaps it’s even one of the reasons why he might be in…

No. He cannot let himself finish that sentence.

“If there’s anything I could do,” Erik continues, as close to pleading as he could ever get, clearly unaware of Charles’s momentary distraction, “I’ll do it. I’d rather not have you so—” vulnerable, Charles can swear that he hears, the thought flowing seamlessly into his mind, though he’s not sure if it’s something Erik has unconsciously projected, or just a creation of his exhausted, aching head, “—unwell,” the man says instead, his voice somewhat strained.

With every passing second, Erik’s worry, washing over Charles’s mind, is much harder to bear. Charles isn’t used to anybody caring that much—even Raven, worried about him as she is, tends to get annoyed rather than envelope him with soothing thoughts. And Charles understands that, he truly does; it is frustrating and scary, after all, if you don’t know what to do to help somebody very close to you. So as not to burden anyone else with his troubles, Charles has quickly learnt how to face them on his own. Now, the fact that somebody might be that determined to soothe his pain somehow is, quite frankly, disconcerting.

“That’s touching, truly,” Charles continues to speak to the pillow, not ready to lift his head and look at Erik just yet, “but trust me, you wouldn’t want to do anything of the sort.”

He’s so drained, tired of his headache and that whole conversation. There has to be a way to convince Erik to let go and simply leave the room, so that Charles can try to face him tomorrow morning, hopefully in a much better shape.

“I said ‘anything’ and I mean it,” Erik says sternly, his tenacity becoming genuinely irksome.

“Oh, for God’s sake…,” Charles grunts, quietly enough that he isn’t even sure if Erik has heard it, but he can’t bring himself to care, not when there’s anger slowly building up in his mind, encompassing it like a nasty fog.

“Don’t be stubborn, Charles.”

This time Charles cannot help himself and he turns his head in order to gaze up at Erik, the reins on his anger almost slipping.

“Really?,” Charles asks incredulously, his voice surprisingly cutting. “Who’s stubborn?”

Erik takes a deep breath, stopping himself from reaching over to Charles, his hand suspended halfway between them. It’s obvious that he’s on the verge of losing his temper as well, but in a rather out-of-character move for him, he manages to rein his emotions in, his whole attention focused on Charles, who belatedly realizes that his own quite uncharacteristic outburst might’ve had the opposite effect to the one he desired.

“What do you want me to do?” Erik’s voice is surprisingly patient, his expression calm, though his distress is evident in those kaleidoscopic eyes of his.

Charles heaves a sigh, knowing well that Erik’s worry is warranted and his anger isn’t. Perhaps he cannot voice what he really wants aloud, but he should at least get himself under control, he owes Erik this much. After all, it isn’t the man’s fault that Charles has developed some undesirable feelings for him.

“You wouldn’t want that,” he mutters dejectedly, averting his eyes as he feels a phantom burning sensation in the vicinity of his heart.

Not seeing Erik’s face, Charles can only hear the hiss of his steady breathing, an old clock ticking somewhere in the background. The telepath hasn’t heard the latter sound before, but suddenly it’s all he can focus on, as if it could take him somewhere else, away from that conversation.

Erik’s voice puts him out of his reverie as the man says, a little exasperated, “How could you know if you didn’t ask?”

For a fleeting moment, Charles is under the impression that Erik can see right through him; that he’s aware of all of Charles’s perverse desires. That is a dangerous thought, however, sparking up too much of the silly hope which has still managed to bloom in his heart. He squashes it mercilessly.

If knowing what Charles wants from him is what Erik so desperately desires, Charles can give it to him and end this ridiculous charade once and for all.

“Stay here tonight. With me.” His throat is tight and feels as dry as if Charles hasn’t had a sip of water in ages. Despite all of that, his voice comes out exceptionally firm, not cracking even once. “Here, I said it,” he adds as soon as he sees the realization dawn on Erik’s face. This time his voice does break, hopelessly, so that he has to whisper the second half of the sentence. “Now you can storm out of the room, appalled that you’ve befriended a fag,” Charles spits out, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

He knows he shouldn’t say that. It’s hurtful—to him, to many other people. And yet, it’s easier if he says it; if he doesn’t have to hear it coming from Erik’s lovely mouth.

Erik stares at him for what feels like an eternity, his face nothing more than a blank mask. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t say anything, barely even keeps breathing.

“Is this what you think I would do?,” he asks eventually, his voice as emotionless as his expression.

Feeling himself breaking under the heaviness constricting his chest and the weight of that judging gaze, Charles just snorts, “Wouldn't you?” Erik’s mind seems calm, but there’s clearly something boiling under the seemingly tranquil surface. Charles doesn’t even want to take a look—he couldn’t dive in, not now of all times. “I shouldn’t…” He turns his head, burying it in the pillow, so he doesn’t have to watch Erik walk away from his room and from his life. “It’s wrong.”

Those last two words are so quiet, a barely audible murmur, that Charles is taken aback when Erik asks, “Do you really think so?”

His voice is disturbingly stiff, but Charles forbears from turning back towards him. He’s capable of enduring that conversation, keeping himself from falling into pieces, as long as he doesn’t have to look into Erik’s face and witness the inevitable rejection and repulsion with his own eyes.

“I can’t have this conversation right now.” Charles doesn’t even know how he manages to speak, yet the words flow out of his mouth tiredly, as if on its own accord. “Just— Go. We can have a fight in the morning.” He buries himself deeper into the sheets.

There’s a sudden shift on the surface of Erik’s mind and it flashes with disbelief, the myriad of scattered thoughts flying around like fireflies, too fast for Charles to catch, his throbbing head successfully preventing him from fully reading his friend’s reaction.

“How could you not know?” Erik asks unbelievingly, his voice remarkably quiet.

Charles can’t help but shift to his side, taken aback by that question. It’s not what he expected, and when he looks up to Erik’s face, he doesn’t find anything he anticipated either—only shock and… hurt?

“Know what?” Suddenly, Charles feels very small, racking his brain for a crucial detail he might’ve missed somewhere among the flurry of the past few weeks.

“You said you knew everything about me.” Erik remains tense, his eyes studying Charles closely.

“I might’ve exaggerated a little,” Charles admits, less bashful than he’d normally be, too tired to care about those things right now. Too tired to stand it any longer. He buries his face in his hands, saying from underneath his palms, “Now, if you please, I’d like to try to get asleep and inevitably fail, caught between my headache and my heartache.”

Charles is about to flop back to his stomach, maybe curl into a ball, when a pair of hands grasp his wrists, pulling them away. The light blinds Charles for a moment, but as soon as he recovers, he finds himself facing Erik, his friend's expression wary, but determined.

"Charles, shut up,” he says forcefully, his mind buzzing anxiously, resembling a huge beehive, which does very little to help Charles ease his headache. “Normally, I would yell at you, but I’ll just say that you’re an idiot.” Erik sets his jaw, searching Charles’s face for a moment. “Get inside my mind,” he demands, his voice unyielding.

“You know I can’t— I wouldn’t—” Charles tries to explain, however, before he even has the chance to finish, he’s interrupted.

“Just do it.” And Charles knows that he won’t talk Erik out of it.

"Okay.” He nods, the skin of his cheek brushing against the pillow. Bracing himself for a wave of pain, he slowly hoists himself into a sitting position. He can’t help but wince when he feels the ache flaring up. “Here I go, then. Just, fair warning, my headache is quite bad, so if I’ll end up—"

“Charles,” Erik says warningly through gritted teeth.

“Okay,” the telepath relents, reaching to Erik’s temple with trembling hands.

As soon as his fingertips touch the soft skin, Charles feels his mind being surrounded by the whirlwind of thoughts of sensations, coloured with different feelings, dancing around him, some of them overwhelming him with their intensity. There’s a current of determination cursing around him, although there are streaks of cautiousness intertwined with it. After a long moment of marvelling over the strength of Erik’s feelings, not as jumbled and chaotic as his own, Charles becomes aware that there is something else behind that determination; something that he’s currently being pulled to. It’s Erik, Charles realizes with a start, who’s drawing him in that direction, as if he wants to show him something. Charles complies with this unspoken plea and what he finds is beyond his wildest dreams.

All of a sudden, he is swept up in a swell of something so intense, so passionate, and so warm that he barely resists the urge to pull himself out of Erik’s mind. Luckily, he stays there long enough to see it—or rather sense it, see it with his mind’s eye—his own face, almost alight, bathed in warm light, a pair of hauntingly blue eyes looking back at him with so much kindness and compassion that he doesn’t recognize himself at first. It can’t be him, that man is simply too perfect.

He’s not perfect, Charles hears, echoing softly in his mind. But that’s why he’s beautiful.

Unable to bear it anymore, Erik’s feelings too deep and astounding, Charles pulls himself sharply back to the present, back to the man before him who watches him carefully.

“Do you really think so?,” he hears himself ask, and only after the words have already left his mouth does he realize that he’s echoed Erik’s words from before.

This time, though, they are far from the shocked hurt that Erik must’ve felt at the moment. Charles’s voice is small, vulnerable, yet filled with amazement.

"Oh, Kindskopf…” Erik slowly reaches out and gently brushes a few strands of Charles’s floppy hair behind the telepath’s ear, clearly using this as an opportunity to stroke Charles’s cheek while retracting his hand, delicately, with just the tips of his fingertips. Even if he knew German better, Charles doubts that he’d be in the right mind to translate what Erik’s just said. And yet, he has a feeling that it wasn’t something particularly nice, though the way in which Erik said it, with so much affection, makes him question that thought. “How can someone so smart be so stupid?”

There’s a small smile curling in the corners of Erik’s lips, and even through the pain, which somehow ended up being pushed to the back of Charles’s mind anyway, the telepath can’t focus on anything else but that minute, yet enticing movement.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Charles asks, not even ashamed of how pleading his voice sounds.

Erik doesn’t mind anyway.

“I will,” the man says simply, leaning closer to Charles, close enough that their foreheads are touching.

Charles allows his eyes to shut, enjoying the warm and soothing feeling encompassing his mind. Basking in it, he notices that his pain is slowly letting go, tuning in to Erik’s mind providing him with a much needed reprieve from all those voices around him. It is a truly exhilarating discovery, that not only didn’t Charles give his friend a headache because of their mental contact, but his own actually alleviated. Or maybe it’s all been thanks to being surrounded by the purest, strongest feeling possible.

Love.

* * * * *

Kindskopf — silly boy (Or that's how I'd translate it to English, at least; sorry, my knowledge of German is quite limited, so I'd appreciate being corrected if I'm wrong.)

#cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #x men #xmcu #xmfc #x-men: first class #gay mutant road trip #angst with a happy ending #(or rather a sappy ending)#bickering #angry confessions #tw homophobic language #cherik fanfic #my fanfiction #hanshaped writes #and mumbles

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bunk12bear · 6 years ago

Text

I Learned It From The Pizza Man Epilogue: I couldn't think of a witty title

6 months later

The late June air was hot and sticky, the kind of weather that made you dream of the winter you'd been complaining about only months earlier.

Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro lounged under a large tree, ice cold drinks in hand. Keith and Lance had left about twenty minutes earlier to, "get refills" on their pretty much full drinks. They probably thought they were being subtle.

Pidge took a sip from her lemonade. "Where do you think the lovebirds ran off to because it sure as hell wasn't to get a refill."

"Not sure, but if I had to guess I'd say they're probably off kissing somewhere. Like when they needed to 'thank their favorite professors' at graduation."

Pidge laughed. "I still can't believe you actually fell for that excuse and followed them no less! It's your own damn fault that you walked in on them making out."

Hunk put his hands up defensively. "Hey, don't laugh! I had to see my oldest and dearest friend with his shirt halfway off and his tongue down someone's throat. I'm scarred for life, dude."

Shiro winced. "Oh come on, that someone is my little brother. I really didn't need that mental image."

"I'll take that over the two months of pining that preceded their first date." Pidge rolled her eyes. "I swear to God if I had to hear about Keith's 'gemstone colored eyes' one more time I was going to puke."

"Keith was just as bad. He got back from your apartment the first time with this dopey smile on his face," Shiro faked a swoon, imitating said dopey smile, "and he's got these blue eyes, not light like the sky but dark like the ocean."

"Oh my God, really?" Pidge laughed.

"Yeah, I gave Lance the codename Mr. Ocean Eyes to make fun of Keith, as any good older brother would."

"That's better than ours, we just called Keith Pizza Boy," Hunk piped up.

Pidge's eyes widened and she gestured excitedly: "Oh, oh Hunk, do you remember the poem?"

"Of course."

Shiro seemed confused. "Wait, what poem? I didn't hear about a poem."

"The week before Lance told Keith to him ask him out Keith wrote Lance a poem." Pidge grinned and splayed her hand out in front of her. "I know it may seem kind of cheesy but a boy like you makes romance easy." she quoted.

"Really," Shiro snorted then grinned, eyes sparkling. "Oh my God, Keith is never gonna hear the end of this."

"I'm never going to hear the end of what?" Keith and Lance were back, clothing rumpled and hair a mess, a suspicious bruise blooming on Keith's neck.

Their friends exchanged a Look™.

"Hey little bro, I didn't know you were a poet."

"Wait, what? I'm not a-"

Shiro interrupted: "I know it may seem kind of cheesy, but a boy like you makes romance easy."

Keith's cheeks went pale. "What, how the hell did you find out about that?"

"Pidge told me," Shiro said gesturing her direction with a shit eating grin.

"Well, I still think it's cute," Hunk said placing a hand on his chest.

Keith's cheeks turned a distinct shade of scarlet. "Please God, kill me now," he croaked, burying his face in his hands.

Lance kissed his cheek. "C'mon babe don't be embarrassed, it was cute."

Keith slipped his hands from his face and grabbed one of Lance's hands in both if his. "You're cute," he said bringing Lance's hand up to his lips and kissing it.

"No seriously, I loved it!"

Keith cocked his head. "Mmm, I love you."

Lance grinned and kissed him. "I love you too."

"Wait, when did this happen?" Shiro asked.

"Couple weeks ago." Lance didn't even bother to look at him.

"Awww! Who said it first?" Hunk cooed.

"Keith actually."

"Really?!" Keith turned to his brother, "Always the tone of surprise."

Lance's eyes lit up. "Sweety, was that a Harry Potter reference? Oh my God, I love you so much."

Keith shrugged. "You're pretty okay yourself."

"Keith!"

"Kidding, I love you too, sharpshooter."

Pidge began to gag dramatically. "Okay before you two turn this into a total mushy love fest they've just started putting out the food and I'd kill for a hamburger."

The group walked over to the buffet table, clearly whoever had cooked had perused Pinterest heavily. In addition to the usual burgers and hot dogs there were little graduation caps made of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and square chocolates, a candy bar with event-appropriate labels such as gummy "bookworms", a build your own taco bar, neatly organized appetizers like Seven layer dip packed in individual plastic cups and an abundance of mason jars.

They ate their food and chatted amongst the other partygoers. Pidge, Hunk, Lance and Keith answering the usual questions. So what's the plan? You got a new job offers lined up? Are you planning on getting an advanced degree? Keith and Lance also got the weird Probing Questions™ an alarming number of people seemed to think were appropriate to ask a couple. When are you two getting married? Are you planning on having any kids? There was one middle-aged straight couple who apparently had never met a gay couple before, with all the questions they asked. A relationship and graduating College are big milestones so it's natural for people to ask questions, but this was getting exhausting. Keith was one heartbeat away from yelling something like "We're gays, not unicorns!" and running away when Lance found a more polite way to leave the conversation. They went back to their friends to wind down and spend the rest of the party with them. The five of them returned to the spot under the tree. Hunk and Pidge chatted exchanging information about their latest projects, Shiro sat against the trunk of the tree texting Curtis who was out of town visiting family and Lance and Keith sat side-by-side,wrapped up in each other and hands intertwined. Life was good, the future was bright they were happy.

Bonus

5 years later

Lance had been planning this for weeks. Hunk had very graciously taken time off of his busy schedule - which consisted of writing his thesis and taking care of his and Shay's new baby - to go over the plan again and again on the phone, assuring lance that things would be ok.

Keith looked at him from the passenger's seat. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Keith raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"It'll be good I promise." Lance parked the car and lead Keith a short way before stopping In front of a very familiar restaurant.

"This is the Mexican place we went to on our first date"

"Yup!" Lance said. "Let's just go inside, I already made a reservation."

The hostess grinned just a bit too widely to be genuine as she seated them at their table. It didn't take Keith long to notice it was the same one they had sat at on their date all those years before.

As they ate and talked and were generally having a great time, Lance had the feeling that Keith was catching on to what he had planned. Perfect.

They emerged from the restaurant hand in hand and walked in the opposite direction of where they had parked.

"Didn't we park our car that way?" Keith asked, puzzled.

"Yes we did but just trust me."

Lance led Keith down the street quickly before stopping abruptly and pulling him to the side of the highway towards the road.

He grabbed Keith's hands. "Hey so by now you probably realize that I've been recreating our first date, I have a reason for that. The last five years have been wonderful. You make me so happy-" "Lance, are you...? Keith interrupted tears suddenly welling up in his eyes.

"Shh, let me finish. You are 100% without a doubt the one for me and know I want to spend the rest of my life with you so" Lance got down on one knee and pulled out a ring box, "Keith Kogane, will you marry me?"

Tears were streaming down both of their faces by now. "Oh my God, you beat me to it!" Keith said but pulled Lance in for a kiss.

When they broke the kiss Lance took some time to wipe his eyes and then tilted his head coyly. "So that's a yes?" "Of course it's a yes you idiot."

"Good," Lance said then slipped the ring on to Keith's finger and kissed him again. He pulled back abruptly, "Oh there's something I have to do. Babe, hold your hand up next to your face so I can get a picture."

Lance quickly snapped the photo and posted it to Twitter and Instagram with the caption "I liked it so I put a ring on it" and a bunch of hashtags about love and marriage.

Keith snorted. "Isn't that song like 15 years old?"

"Shhh babe, Beyonce is eternal."

Author's note: aaaand that's a wrap. Thank you again to Calliopestories for beta reading this.

Olive bro sadly didn't make an appearance in this chapter but I just couldn't find a place to fit him in, he might make an appearance in other things I write though.

I didn't put it in but I firmly believe some of the mentioned hashtags in the proposal scene would be ones Lance made up like Lancy Lance is officially off the market.

In the first part, if it wasn't clear Pidge, Hunk, Lance, and Keith have all graduated college and are at a graduation party.

In the second part, I wanted to include more like maybe their friends and family reacting to the engagement but I thought of the closing line and couldn't not end on that so c'est la vie.

Thank you to anyone who read to the end of my little story that actually means a lot.

#klance #laith #lance mcclain #vld lance #lance (voltron)#lance x keith #keith (voltron)#keith kogane #vld keith #college au #proposal

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