#and I’d like to think Spy got help from Scout on helping with his tone and such

[a-lost-crow]

Rehearsal

[marvelous-space-nerd]

My dearest Bee

Hi dear tumblr people! I wrote a thing and I quite like it,,

Summary: Time travel, is, well something. Who would've thought that you would get stuck in the 1800's?? Well here you are, part of the Van der Linde gang, ready to face the past.

First chapter can be read as a stand alone chapter. It takes place a few years after Isaac died. The relationship between the reader and Arthur is platonic. Enjoy!!

ao3

My dearest Bee,

So I hope these letters- I can’t call them letters if they’re in a book right?- Anyways, I hope these will find you, I hope you’re home, safe. I hope you saw your dog again, I miss her. I have a horse now though! Maybe I’ll name her after you, or just wasp. If I remember correctly you weren’t the biggest fan of wasps. But really, I’m not sure if we timetraveld or were transported to another universe where everything just started like 100 years later, the latter case making it a whole lot harder for you to find this. I just really hope you’ll find this against all odds, because I said I’d write to you if I made it. And I did! I guess. After the whole thing blew up some cowboys found me, I think they call themselves the Van der Linde gang? But yeah, they feed me and gave me a bed for the small price of doing some chores. I’d like to do more though, did you know that the 1800’s are really boring even though you can die at any second? It’s spicy but in the wrong way. I’d like you to know though that it’s not all bad here. People are lovely when they’re not trying to shoot you. You should see a campfire evening- hell any evening- here.

Yours always,

(Y/N)

“(Y/N) get off your lazy ass and do the chores we asked you to do!”

“Mister Morgan! No need to yell, I got it perfectly under control. I was just, taking a break, that's all. Everyone who works all day has the right to take a break.”

“Boy as much as we want it workers are exploited ‘till they fall to the ground face first. You however are not so-” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes before speaking agian. Softer this time than the louder tone he was using first. “get to work, please.”

“Fine fine, but-”

“There better leave something good out of that big mouth of yours.”

“Hey that's just rude! But I want one of you lot to teach me anything. I can’t even ride a horse for Christ's sake.”

“I still don’t get how you can’t kiddo.”

“I told you I lost my memory at the explosion, maybe I lost my skills too.” You said avoiding his piercing gaze. Nothing is better at covering up lies than staring at rocks being sad over the skills you’ve lost.

“And we all know about that blatant lie.” Fuck, maybe rocks aren’t good at covering up.

“It isn’t-”

“Boy I don’t give a damn, you could work on your handwriting though, you’re almost worse than John. But fine, when you’re done with your chores I'll teach you to ride.” He said, finally giving in.

“Yay!” You said while doing little hand clapping motion. “I won’t disappoint, I promise. I’m a fast learner!” You said with smiling eyes

“And how’d you find out you were a fast learner boy?” He spoke out as he raised his eyebrows, just enough for you to feel them piercing right through you, poking at all the holes in your lie. You thought you’d last at least a few months, well here you are, exactly one month deep in this shithole being caught red handed.

“Fuck” Is all you managed to cram out while your eyes lost all their focus. You being back in your own mind instead of the wild world.

It made the silence hard. The only sound that of the other gang members and the birds and the bees to give you something to focus on. It’s so hard out here, no amount of scouts will ever prepare one for the real wild.vIt’s much scarier out here. The real wild is the place where you die if you trip over the wrong rock. The scouts will make sure the rock isn’t even there. Every bird will just put down another rock and god I want the silence broken, just as broken as my lie is.

“I know there’s probably a reason you’re not telling us anything.” Athur said, as he moved closer, his eyes smaller. Like they could see right in his head “You can’t hide forever, not who you are.”

“...”

“Use your words boy”

“I’m sorry, Mister Morgan, I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You’ll figure it out, but first geT your ass back to woRK.” His voice became louder this time, I mean this was the third time he asked. He put his hand on your shoulder, shoving you away from your shared tent towards the hay bales you were supposed to move. A bit harder than anyone in the twenty-first century would’ve done, but for Arthur it was just a friendly push.

“I will, I will mister Morgan!” You said trying to act cheerful. Arthur made a “tsk” sound and waved you off, absolutely done, it seemed. You moved to the hay bales that were still in the wagon, ready to be fed to the horses.

The hay bales were heavy, yet they seemed lighter than they were a month ago. Your hands weren’t soft no more and being covered in dirt and dust wasn’t rare anymore. The luxuries that the modern world gave you disappeared the moment you decided that Bee was the one who should go home. One to run to the portal the moment it opens, one to pull the lever and jump through afterwards. Both of you knew that people don’t want you touching their stuff, let alone interdimensional portals or time machines. You knew someone would be quick to show up the moment you turned it on. It was surprising to see the portal become unstable, blinking in and out, in and out of existence. It left you with 2 choices. Option a: jump in it praying it would still transport you back home, back to all you knew not leaving you in the empty pocket of a closed portal. Or option b: run away for the inevitable explosion.

Gods you hated thinking about it. It played and twisted your mind. You couldn’t even talk about it, no accessible therapists in the wild west. And you’d prefer not to tell anyone you’re a helpless time traveler. Stuck in 1895 traveling with a gang of outlaws. A surely unique situation only you could get yourself in. You don’t even remember what you chose. You just remembered waking up surrounded by a bunch of cowboys.

“And how is our newest member doing?” The man's smooth and easy voice was easily recognizable. Dutch Van der Linde. Isn’t it ironic that he has a dutch surname and that his parents called him, well, Dutch. It’s a question that always on your mind, why his parents did that and if it’s iconic or just stupid. Dutch was one of the first people who introduced himself, right after Arthur- who was very inclined on being called Mister Morgan- and Hosea. The trio who showed you the wild west wasn’t all bad.

“Dutch! It is absolutely lovely to see you.” You said while putting the last hay bale down. A little bit of healthy sweat decorating your face. “I am doing absolutely great. Arthur- Mister Morgan is actually going to teach me how to ride a horse when I’m done.” You said while eyeing Arthur. Clearly not being amused with the situation. “Eh, he said yes, it’s his problem now.”

“I’m surprised you got through that thick skull of his!” He said with a smile, each word a little louder than the last. He clapped his hand on your shoulder as he let out a little chuckle.

“I think he likes me even though he won’t admit it actually.” You lied, confidence was half of the battle, as they say.

“I think I don’t you annoying little bastard.” Arthur said, joining the conversation. Dutch clearly talks loud enough to make sure any gossip subject will show up to the gossip. Definitely not the fact that you made eye contact with him “Now get to your horse before I change my mind.”

“Arthur! Oh shit- Mister Morgan! I’ll be there before they can even give me a speeding ticket” You said, maybe it was a bit too modern this time, but isn’t the wild west about living on the edge?

“You speak a strange version of english boy.” Arthur said. “You know how to saddle up a horse right?”

“Hosea taught me so I could help around with chores. And Wasp already had a saddle when we found her so I’m all good to go Mister Morgan!”

“Great, now go get her saddled up so we can go.” He said, motioning towards the horses.

“See you in a flash.” You said while snapping your fingers, forming finger guns to point back to Arthur. You dismissed the look of confusion on their faces, clearly not used to the finger gun motion. You walked off to Wasp and gave her a little pet and a snack. As you were putting her saddle on you overheard the rest of the conversation between Arthur and Dutch.

“We can both see you have a soft spot for the boy, Arthur.” Dutch said with a chuckle.

“And we both know youngins have great hearing and that he’s spying on our little conversation.” Arthur said in response, eyeing you. You kept saddling Wasp up as if you heard nothing. Let the deaf chicken inside of you arise and all. Hoping they’d say more.

“I know Arthur, I know.” Dutch said with a chuckle. About to walk away. “Oh before you go, he’s a kid Arthur, don’t be too hard on him and be carefull.” You didn’t think you were a kid, maybe not a full grown adult, but at least you were half an adult, no kid. But you weren’t going to say anything, you were eavesdropping after all. “He’s all yours, (Y/N)!” He yelled at you, before leaving for real. You turned around and gave him a smile and a quick wave. Arthur walked

“Take her by the reins, we're walking to an open spot first.”

“Shoar '' You said, absolutely trying to mimic the western accent you hear all around here. Apparently it was just bad enough to make Arthur chuckle.

“We’ll make a cowboy outta ya yet.”

Traveling in the wild was absolutely amazing for the most part. Abandoned camps are in fact disgusting. They leave their trash! And it’s not like they cleaned their cans so it smells. But besides that the mostly untouched nature was beautiful and the air was so clean. It all felt much more, how to put it, real. No factories everywhere, no house on every corner of the street, just, the world how mother nature intended it. It was peaceful. There was an open field about ten minutes walking from camp, and that’s where you arrived. Reins in hand.

“You ready to go (Y/N)?” Arthur asked. You put your hand on your hips looking at your horse with abosute pride and stupidity because how to fuck were you going to do this?

“Absolutely.” You said. “Remind me how do I get on again?”

The words were taken by the wind as they made room for silence. Arthur’s expression could be described as a mix between surprise, disbelief and the OhMyGodAreYouStupid emotion. Yet it all quickly made room for a smile, or a laugh. He could definitely be laughing at you.

“I didn’t expect to need to teach an 18 year old how to get on a damn horse.”

There was no fire behind the words, but as they say, fight (fake) fire with (fake) fire.

“And I didn’t expect to end up here for the life of so I did not think horse riding would be a viable skill to know. So get your pretty ass in the saddle so I can.. mimic you or something.” You said making a hand gesture at Arthur’s horse.

He gave you one more smile as he turned to his horse, getting on slower than usual. He got on on the right side of his horse so he put his right foot in the styrup. He lifted his body up effortlessly and as elegant as a western outlaw could get. And there he was, in the saddle, in full western glory.

“Looks easy enough.” You said, an absolute lie as it turned out. The stirrups were way higher than expected, and the getting on could be called anything but elegant or the cool western movies you saw. Turns out your own body is heavy and there’s quite a lot on a horse to get stuck behind. But you ended up in the saddle, full western glory.

The rest of the riding lesson went about the same. Arthur did something really cool looking and whenever you did it it felt like you were some old slime blob.

“Squeeze your lower legs to get her to move, (Y/N)!”

“I am this horse is just broken- OHMYGOD SHe’s moving!”

“Never blame the horse for the rider's lack of skill, boy. Now steering.”

He explained it all to you. How to properly hold the reins and how to use them, how to do it with one hand and how to do it with two. Western and English style he called it. He taught you how to move your horse around and what not to do. The one and most important thing being to have no doubts and no fear. The horse will sense it.

It felt odd at first, to have control over another living being. It wasn’t easy no, Arthur had to tell you how to correct your posture every 5 minutes. But after a while of correcting everything you started to get confident. It started getting easier to steer. Every muscle of yours was getting tired but it was so worth it. Maybe one day you’ll look like an actual movie star.

Once you got the basics down you could go a bit harder. From a walk to a trot, a canter and even a little gallop. And as the wind brushed over your face blowing your hair away, it felt like something the 21st century didn’t have a lot of. Galloping through the grass hearing every step as more and more grass was thrown into the air. Arthur still giving you instructions on what to watch out for, riding by your side in case of emergency. And the horse, Wasp, god she deserved a cooler name. Her big strong muscles moving beneath you, her breath as she was running, the heat radiating from her skin, gods it felt so great. No modern bike or car could ever top this feeling of freedom.

Cars and bikes could however top the feeling of falling off. You lost control quite a few times, losing balance, a rearing horse throwing you right where you belong. But nothing modern could beat that feeling of getting on again. Of it working when you tried it for a second time. Hell, maybe the third time. Arthur was there to make sure you were okay, and you could have another go. And another. And just one more for good measure. Lying on the ground trying to see if this time you did break something wasn’t a strange thing after today. Hell it happened at least every hour. But determining it as fine and getting on again, it felt like a lot.

You didn’t even realize it was getting late until the sky started turning orange. The normally so bright sun started becoming more yellow and stopped burning at your eyes. Instead it just seemed pretty. The clouds became yellow just like the sun, and the sky turned a bit darker with every passing minute. Yellow and orange were happy colours, maybe this was an good omen, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t think you’d die somewhere in a ditch. Bee would be proud to see you haven’t given up. You knew that for once.

“Time isn’t a real thing Mister Morgan, I swear.” You said looking at the sunset.

“Call me Arthur.” Said Arthur Morgan, though guy in the west in dire need of respect. Arthur “You call me mister Morgan boy” Morgan.

“Wait, did someone hide weed somewhere because this must be a hallucination! Can I really call you Arthur?”

“Wouldn't have said it otherwise boy.” He hissed, the mister Morgan just wouldn't leave Arthur.

“Well, Arthur, thank you. I’m happy I only have to say half the syllables now.”

“Shoar thing. Now let’s go back to camp before they send out a search party to see if you haven’t broken anything today.” He said jokingly

“I would never! I am obviously the best horse rider in the entire United states!” You said sarcastically, if you fake confidence long enough, it might become real.

Arthur laughed at that. “Well see about that boy. Now let’s go, we should be there soon considering you can ride now.”

“Of course, good plan. I can show off my skills now!”

“Shoar, go ahead boy. Don’t make your entrance too dramatic.”

“I will, I absolutely will. Oh and Arthur?”

“Hm?” He said, quite relaxed actually.

“Thank you, for everything today. I’m happy you let me bother you today.” You said with a proud smile.

“You’re welcome boy. Bother me all you want, we ain’t getting rid of you just yet.” He said as he ruffled your hair a bit. “Now let’s go home, I’m realll hungry.”

You absolutely couldn’t hide the smile on your face. “Hell yeah, I’m starving.” You said as you kicked the stirrups making Wasp move, you rode to camp in the beautiful orange sky. Maybe he did actually care about you, just a little.

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

[persephone-plasmids]

Nuka-World

A Deacon X Sole Fanfic

[AO3]

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Nuka-World

“I guess I’m just confused about why they dedicated an entire section of the park to their space theme. Why not just a ride?” MacCready asked, eyeing the Star Port tower in the Galactic Zone at Nuka-World.

“To get the youth excited about space exploration,�� Danse answered in his usual serious tone. “They wanted to recruit potential cadets young.”

MacCready pulled a face at this explanation. “Do kids really like space, though?”

“Seriously, MacCready?” Sole asked. “You have a kid. You should know this.”

Deacon listened to the group theorizing over the chosen aesthetic of Nuka-World while he slid a Cappy shirt over his head with a grin.

“I know Dez sent us here to recover the kidnapped synth, but all this free merch is going to be incredibly distracting,” Deacon said.

At his words, Sole’s eyes grew large. “Where did you get that? I want one!”

Deacon nodded to the merchandise rack behind him and smiled as Sole scampered over with pure joy in her eyes. Danse watched with slight disapproval while MacCready continued examining the Star Port in confusion.

Bringing the tin can and the grumpy sniper along hadn’t been Deacon’s idea. Dez had said they’d need more than just Deacon and Sole on this mission since they had so much ground to cover. When Deacon had suggested Tinker Tom, Dez had just laughed and told Sole to ask some of “her people”. Whatever that meant.

Apparently, Sole’s “people” were a self-hating synth boy scout and MacCready, whose skill Deacon respected, but he still didn’t like the idea of someone honing in on his mission.

“This entire park seems wildly unsafe for children,” Danse said, his thick brows knitted together in a line.

“Nuka Cola has always been a bit shady,” MacCready agreed. “Makes sense that their park wouldn’t be quite as kid-friendly as it should be.”

“All right, I’m ready to get this show on the road,” Sole said, walking out from the back room of the merchandise area with a Cappy shirt and cowboy hat.

“No fair! I didn’t see the hat!” Deacon whined. “I would have taken it for myself.”

“We can share custody,” Sole promised with a grin in Deacon’s direction.

Deacon screwed up his face as he thought this over. “Fine, but I get weekends and holidays.”

“Deal.” Sole gave him one of her smiles that reminded him why he needed to keep his distance from her emotionally. One of the smiles that made him want all the things he couldn’t have.

He ignored it.

“You’re both wrong,” MacCready said, snatching the hat quickly from Sole’s head and placing it on his own. “This baby’s coming with me.”

Sole laughed at this, making Deacon feel that familiar pang of jealousy again. He prided himself on making Sole laugh. He didn’t love that someone else was currently taking over his favorite job.

“You two are going to Dry Rock Gulch, I guess it’s only fair that you get the cowboy hat, RJ,” Sole said, straightening the hat on MacCready’s head with a familiarity that made Deacon feel much less in control of himself than he normally was.

“We should get going before it gets too dark,” Deacon said with a forced smile. “We don’t want Danse rusting from the evening dew.”

“Negative, soldier, “ Danse said. “My power armour doesn’t rust.”

“At ease,” Deacon responded with a little salute at the former Brotherhood of Steel Paladin. “Try to enjoy yourself a little Danse. Despite what they told you in the Brotherhood, it won’t actually kill you.”

Danse gave him a look like he wasn’t amused by his joke before turning away and heading towards Dry Rock Gulch with MacCready.

“Geez,” Deacon said. “Never send that guy on a stealth mission. I swear we’ll be able to hear his power armor clomping around through the whole park.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing we already cleared out those raiders, huh?”

“No thanks to the tin can and grumpy pants over there,” Deacon said, now smiling at Sole.

“That one was a Deacon and Sole special,” Sole answered. “We didn’t need any outside assistance.”

Deacon nodded at this, watching Sole for a moment too long before realizing he was being weird. He realized that a lot around Sole. He had to constantly remind himself how he acted around people who didn’t make him feel the way Sole did. It was exhausting.

“I say we head over to that old junkyard. If I was a Synth in hiding, that’s where I’d go,” Sole said.

“You got it, boss,” Deacon answered, following her as she began walking.

The two walked in silence for a long time. Deacon guessed that Sole was thinking about the mission. Deacon, of course, was having another mini existential crisis regarding Sole. But he was also attempting to lie to himself about his feelings, which turned it into a whole thing. He could be a very convincing liar.

When the two rounded an old abandoned building, Deacon was shocked to see a crowd right in front of them.

“Whoa, hold up,” Deacon said, placing his arm straight out to stop Sole from walking.

It was too little too late though. The group of people in space suits standing had clearly seen them. How had Deacon missed them? They were literally a handful of weirdos in space suits.

Sole had distracted him with her very existence again. This was why he had to stop letting himself explore any potential feelings for her. They just got in the way of their missions. They made him sloppy. And sloppy could very well mean “dead” in this situation.

“Greetings,” one of the space-suit-clad people said, taking a step forward.

Deacon placed one hand behind his back where he kept a gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. The other hand was wrapped tightly around Sole’s arm, keeping her in a safe position slightly behind him.

“Listen, we’re looking for information on--” Sole began, but the woman who appeared to be the leader of the odd group before them interrupted her.

“Are you here to help us get the spaceship up and running?” the woman asked. Her slightly crazed eyes were wide and bloodshot.

Sole furrowed her brow and looked at Deacon who was still trying to understand what he’d just heard.

“The great power above told us they would send someone soon. You, my weary traveler, must be the one to help us rebuild our spacecraft.”

“No,” Sole said slowly. “We’re just here too--” but again she was interrupted, this time by Deacon’s hand placed clumsily over her lips.

“Wait just… shush for a second,” he whispered with the widest grin she’d ever seen. “This is amazing.” He looked like a kid on Christmas. “Yes, my fair… uh… lady. We were sent from the head honcho in the stars to come offer our support for your interstellar travels.”

Deacon’s voice had adopted a grand tone and he released his concealed gun to instead gesture widely at the group in front of him.

“Excellent news, kind sir,” the woman said. “I am Dara. Come. We don’t have much time. Follow us.”

“Lead the way my most excellent and esteemed priestess,” Deacon said.

Sole looked over at the spy incredulously, mouthing a quick, “What are you doing?” to him.

She wasn’t sure if Deacon hadn’t understood her question or if he was just willfully ignoring her, because he simply clapped his hands together and mouthed back, “I know, right?”

The space-suit-clad group led them through the old junkyard to a red metal object that looked an awful lot like an old carnival ride. It was supposed to look like a UFO, but anyone could see it wasn’t any kind of actual aircraft.

“Ah yes, a fine specimen indeed,” Deacon said when they approached the ride. His voice was still serious as he spoke, though Sole knew him well enough to hear the pure glee behind it. “And what, pray tell, can we do to get this up and running for you again?”

“We have the fusion cells we need right here,” Dara said. “But we don’t know how to install them. If you can get our craft up and running, I know we’ll be on our way to our higher forms soon enough.”

“You’ll be on your way somewhere,” Sole scoffed under her breath, obviously not enjoying this nearly as much as Deacon.

“Well then step inside and get comfortable,” Deacon said with a grin. “I’ll get these fusion cores installed… uh… posthaste.”

Sole snorted at this, to which Deacon elbowed her. He didn’t want her giving him away just because she found him amusing.

Dara led the group of space cadets into the UFO ride and shut the door behind her, leaving Sole and Deacon alone.

“Okay, what in the actual world is going on?” Sole asked incredulously.

“I know! This is seriously amazing,” Deacon said, barely able to contain his joy. “These people actually think this is a spaceship!”

“I’m pretty sure this is a Gravitron,” Sole said. “They had them at the local carnival every year before the war. I used to love this ride.”

Sole’s eyes adopted that distant look they got whenever she talked about her time before the Vault-Tec incident. It made him feel sad for her, before he selfishly realized that if Vault-Tec hadn’t frozen her, he never would have met her.

“Will it be safe for me to fix it for them?” Deacon asked, Sole. He wanted to mess with the space cult, not kill them.

“They might get a bit motion sick,” Sole began. “But they should be fine.”

At her words, Deacon’s face adopted a mischievous grin that made Sole’s cheeks flush. “Excellent.”

Deacon installed the fusion cores Dara had given him without much effort before holding his hand out to Sole.

“Shall we?”

Sole let a grin spread across her full lips, taking Deacon’s hand in her own. “I can handle this ride, but I’m not sure you really understand what you’re in for.”

“You don’t think I could handle your ride?” Deacon asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively at her.

Sole took a step closer to Deacon, leaning close to him so that her lips were against his ear. “I know you couldn’t handle my ride, stealth boy.”

Deacon shivered involuntarily at her words and the feeling of her breath against his ear, but as quickly as the moment had happened, it passed. Sole pulled Deacon into the UFO ride with her, leaving him with a lingering mental image that he’d have to examine more thoroughly when he was alone later.

“This impeccably dressed harbinger of your more superior forms has successfully repaired your vessel,” Sole announced loudly, holding up Deacon’s hand. She looked over at him with a grin that set his heart on overdrive. “Not only was he able to repair your vessel, but he’s also promised to personally make sure his work is beyond reproach by coming along with you.”

“The star angel speaks the truth,” Deacon said, making Sole snort laugh again, though she was a bit better about covering this one up. “Sole, if you’ll do the honors.”

“Everybody up against the wall,” Sole said, watching as the space cult obeyed. “Deacon? Up against the wall?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to say that to me,” He said with a grin.

Sole just rolled her eyes and pointed at the wall, waiting for him to oblige. When everyone was in position, she took her place in the middle of the metal room and flipped the switch.

In an instant, the ride began to hum as the floor started to vibrate. At first, nothing moved and Deacon worried he hadn’t actually managed to fix the ride. But as the humming grew louder, the room began to spin.

Sole stayed in place in the center of the room and Deacon tried to keep his eyes on her, but as the rotations became quicker and quicker, he had to close his eyes. The force of the rotating ride crushed him against the padded wall of the room and he had to press his lips together to keep from getting sick. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the ride began to slow down until it eventually stopped.

When Deacon opened his eyes, the world was still spinning. Sole was watching him as if waiting for him to speak to the cult, but he couldn’t form a single thought.

“The mission has been a success,” Sole finally said, seeing that Deacon was completely useless at the moment. “Your craft has been repaired and will be ready for your final voyage once your preparations are complete.”

“Bless you,” Dara said, looking at Sole. “Bless both of you.”

Without another word, Dara and the other cultists left the UFO, leaving Deacon clutching the wall and breathing heavily. In an instant, Sole was beside him. She supported him as Deacon tilted his head down.

“Told you you couldn’t handle this ride,” Sole said, her voice lined with amusement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Deacon said. “I feel fantastic. Think I might go run a marathon with Hancock later.”

Sole placed her hand on Deacon’s cheek gently, lifting his eyes to hers. He still felt sick, but the more she touched him, the less he seemed to notice the motion sickness.

“Hey lightweight, what do you think Danse and MacCready will say when they find out an old carnival ride floored you?”

“That question is irrelevant because if you tell them I’ll just deny everything,” he responded. “And of the two of us, who’s the better liar?”

Deacon was grinning at Sole again, but she didn’t smile back. Instead she was watching him curiously, her eyes roaming his face. He was confused by her expression before he realized just how clear she looked to him. Clearer than normal.

Panicked, Deacon brought his hand up to his face to find his sunglasses missing. He’d always been good at putting up walls between himself and everyone else, but he had a hard time doing that with Sole. The sunglasses were the only way he could keep some semblance of distance from her. Without them, he worried she’d see right through him. See who he really was. See how he really felt about her.

Deacon looked around himself for the sunglasses before Sole held them up wordlessly.

“You win, Charmer,” Deacon said with a nervous laugh. “Time to give them back now.”

Deacon reached out for the glasses but Sole held them behind her back with a wicked grin.

“I don’t know that I want you to put them back on. I’m enjoying finally seeing you,” she said, her eyes seeming to bore into his soul.

“No one wants to see this hot mess, trust me,” Deacon said, reaching for the sunglasses but failing to get them. All he managed to do was somehow get even closer to Sole.

“How did I not realize your eyes are blue?” Sole asked, her voice soft. “They’re… stunning.” She instantly blushed at her own words but didn’t back down. And she still didn’t give Deacon his sunglasses back. “They’re not just blue… they’re like… ice blue.”

“Must be all the surgery,” Deacon joked, even though his voice sounded flat.

The truth was, Deacon changed his appearance all the time. But his eyes? His eyes were his own. Always had been. They were the one thing he didn’t change about himself. So to have Sole admiring them in such a personal way felt… amazing.

And dangerous.

Sole bit her lip as she watched him and Deacon swallowed hard. “Why don’t you want anyone to see you?” she asked.

He wanted to tell her that he was scared they wouldn't like what was left after all the lies were stripped away. But he didn’t say that. Instead he said, “Because I don’t want them to fall in love with my beautiful face. It just wouldn’t be fair to destroy some unsuspecting wastelander like that.”

At his words, Sole laughed softly, just like he hoped she would. If she was laughing then she wasn’t asking him questions that hit too close to home for him.

“I mean, now that you’ve seen the full effect of my icy blue gaze, you surely must understand that I wield an ungodly amount of power.”

“I really don’t know how you manage to fit yourself and your ego into your tiny sleeping quarters in the Railroad,” Sole said with a roll of her eyes.

“There’s enough room,” Deacon said, his voice now teasing. “More than enough room if you ever want to join the two of us.”

And that was it. The truth of the matter. Deacon could flirt with Sole all day long if it was all a big joke. But if he ever told her that he’d dreamed about what it would be like to wake up next to her, he’d lose the small amount of control he still pretended to have in this partnership. He couldn’t tell her that he longed for the casual and familiar touches of two people who trusted each other so completely that their physical contact was expected and normal.

“Do you really want me to take you up on that offer?” Sole asked, a challenge in her eyes.

Deacon still hadn’t learned that he couldn’t tease her about their flirtation for too long. She’d always make it real. And as Deacon knew, real was dangerous.

“Or should I just hold onto these sunglasses for you?”

Deacon leaned forward, sliding his arms around Sole’s waist. He hated himself for the fact that she actually closed her eyes as he got closer to her, obviously expecting him to make a move. But instead, he grabbed the sunglasses that she hid behind her back before pulling away from her with a forced grin.

“Got em,” he said.

Sole opened her eyes, and when Deacon saw just how much disappointment they held, his heart broke. When he heard Sole try to cover up her disappointment with a joke the way he always did, his heart broke even more.

“Well then I guess it’s just you and your ego in your bed tonight,” she said. “Let’s go find Danse and MacCready to see if they’ve had any luck locating the Synth.”

“Oh right, we’ve got an actual reason to be here,” Deacon said, quickly putting his sunglasses back on and feeling immensely more comfortable behind his wall of protection.

“We actually have two reasons to be here,” Sole said as she walked towards the door of the UFO ride. “We need to find the Synth, but we also need to go to the fun house in Kiddie Kingdom.”

“Did I miss that part of the briefing, Charmer?” Deacon asked, following Sole to the bright junkyard outside.

“Dez probably just forgot to tell us how important it is that we go to the funhouse,” Sole said “But you and I are professionals. We have to check everything thoroughly.”

Sole raised her eyebrows at Deacon as she walked away and Deacon was left wondering how Dez ever could have thought it was a good idea to send Sole and himself to an amusement park together.

They’d never get anything done.

[Part 4]

Based on the time my OC and Deacon ran into that crazy cult in Nuka-World :P

[thetriggeredhappy]

Consider: the scene in the comics where Scout dies, but instead it's Spy who's dying and he actually has the balls to tell Scout the truth face-to-face before it's too late.

consider: this shit is gonna break your heart, anon. dad!spy hours

(warnings for canon-typical violence, extreme character injury, major character death)

-

Just his luck that he’d find himself alone with so many of those ridiculous robots and with his knee so destroyed. He at least managed to take down the one that finally got him.

These tin cans didn’t even know enough to understand how to efficiently kill someone, he seethed. He’d certainly be bleeding out shortly—he was fairly sure he had a punctured lung, among other things, but the blood loss would probably be what did him in—but god, it was taking forever.

He could take some solace in that he at least didn’t drag Sniper to die along with him, had sent him to try and pick off as many bots as he could from the windows. And... well, he was fairly sure he’d been as useful as he could have been in this fight. Helped kill one of the Classic team—two, if you counted throttling his own counterpart—and done some good recon work besides. This wasn’t the most poetic or heroic death, but he wasn’t a fan of poetry and had never considered himself much of a hero, so that was probably fair.

But that stupid robot had ruined his jacket, which he was pretty annoyed about. Not like it would matter in the long run, but frustrating regardless.

God, it was cold.

He lifted his head when he heard the sound of rapid footfalls echoing down the hall, growing closer. Hey, maybe he could trick some robot into finishing him off, at least. Save himself some time and excruciating pain. He would’ve gone for the cyanide tooth, but unfortunately, this was the one situation where he’d jumped for that option a little bit too early. Just his luck.

(God, it was cold.)

Oh, well. Bludgeoned to death by a Scoutbot at least promised to be relatively quick. They tended to go for the head.

He looked up to at least give a snide remark to his more rapidly-approaching death, only for them to get stuck in his throat as the death in question rounded the corner and made eye contact with him.

“Holy shit, Spy?” Scout asked, looking startled and a little out of breath.

“Merde,” Spy mumbled, and was a little caught off guard by how hoarse his voice was.

In a second Scout had taken a knee next to him and was surveying the damage, mouth running at a mile a minute. “Holy shit we were lookin’ everywhere, Sniper showed up because I guess he was dead but now he’s better apparently and he said you two split off for some reason but you’d been fuckin’ kneecapped and—dude, you look like shit, what happened?”

“What does it look like?” Spy asked dryly.

“I mean, I don’t wanna give you an ‘I told you so’ or nothin’ but this is kinda what you get for disappearing and running off on your own all the time,” Scout pointed out.

He almost couldn’t feel the tiny ache of guilt that put in his chest underneath all the other much more life-threatening aches that were also in his chest. “Well, I’d say I’ve learned my lesson, but I think unfortunately I won’t be able to demonstrate any time soon,” Spy replied, and yeah, there was a puncture to his lung. He had to fight hard to hold down a cough, and only because he knew it would sound extremely pathetic.

“Okay, uh—can you move? Okay, you can’t move,” Scout seemed to decide. “Uh, okay, okay so I’ll uh—so I’m gonna go get Medic, and—he’s fast too we should be able to get back here in like ten minutes flat, easy! Just, I guess try and hold your guts in, I’ll be right back with help!”

Considering the amount of injured Medic was likely to be, he very much doubted Scout would be back with Medic in only ten minutes. And considering the way that his vision was swimming and how distorted Scout’s face got towards the tail end of that last sentence, he doubted he would make it ten minutes anyways.

And he found unexpected panic suddenly rising up in his chest at the thought of dying alone, here in a hallway surrounded by broken mechanical parts and acrid smoke. He forced himself into motion despite the way it made the entire room suddenly seem to careen to the left, and managed to catch Scout by the leg of his ridiculous trousers before he could take off again. “Wait,” he croaked. “Wait.”

“I, no, I gotta go get Medic, I’ll take like ten seconds—“ Scout was quick to assure, so quick that Spy realized he was legitimately worried.

“I’ll—“ Spy started, and paused to clear his throat just to give himself enough time to think of an excuse to have Scout stick around for a minute. “I’ll be fine to wait a little longer, but first I had something important to say.”

Scout frowned. “Yeah?”

And he did. He absolutely did. The problem was that this excuse was... hm.

The problem was that this was something he’d been putting off. The larger part of the situation for about 20 years, and then more directly for about six. And Spy thought that surely he would work up the courage to get to it over the course of their employment, only for it to be unexpectedly terminated, and he decided, well, that was that. He would just have to live with it. But then they got arrested and the thought that surely he would get to it over the course of their time in prison, and once again he didn’t, couldn’t seem to force himself into that conversation, not when he was trapped, not when he couldn’t run from whatever outcome ended up happening.

And now he was dying. And for all he knew, Scout was going to die shortly as well. And in most of the ways that mattered, Spy was the only person who could really answer this question, because apparently Scout’s mother had committed to the lie he’d asked her to tell, had continued to stay headstrong on helping to cover up how he’d faked his death. And how was she to know he was really dead, surely Scout would never bring it up—

If he didn’t tell Scout now, Scout would never know.

Scout would go the rest of his life never getting answers about his father.

“Merde,” he mumbled again, slumping back against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut against the way the world was spinning, feeling motion sick.

He heard Scout take a knee again, and after a second he hesitantly prompted him. “Uh, what? What is it? What’s up?” he asked carefully.

Spy forced himself to open his eyes, and was a little startled by how difficult it was. He focused hard on one of his own shoes, trying his best to make the world stop spinning so fast. He swallowed hard to try and clear his throat, steady his voice. It almost worked. “This is very important,” he started with, and forced sharpness into his tone. “So I will not be needing any of your little jokes and quips and interruptions.”

“Y... yeah, okay,” Scout said, and the worry was extremely easy to read on his face, and Spy kind of hated that.

Spy considered his words. “You’ve mentioned before that you never knew your father,” he decided to open with. Scout immediately began to frown. “And... and I never said anything. Even though that was a very brave thing to bring up.”

Scout opened his mouth to reply before remembering himself and shutting it again.

“And I wanted to apologize,” Spy managed to choke, and he kept track of Scout’s expressions in his periphery, finding it easier to hold on to that way than by trying to look at him directly. “Because you’re never going to get the chance to know your father, not really. Not in the way you deserve, and it’s my fault.“

“Spy, what the fuck does that even mean?” Scout demanded, and maybe the anger starting to flood into his voice was fair. “You—what did you do?”

“You deserved to have a father,” Spy said, and it couldn’t have been more obvious that he was dodging the question, but maybe he wanted to be obvious, just for a minute. “A good one, who did all sorts of ridiculous fatherly things for you. And it’s not your fault that you didn’t. You deserved to. You did.”

God, it was cold.

“And he should have been there for you, and for your family,” Spy continued, and felt his stomach lurch unexpectedly, and had to shut his jaw tight for a moment, tight enough to feel his fake teeth aching. “And he should have supported them and been a good father, and your life should have been made much more easy than it was, and you should not have needed to get in fights and become a criminal in the first place, and you should never have needed to sign up to become a murderer in some terrible desert in New Mexico among a pack of assassins and madmen.”

“Spy, I, I should get Medic—“ Scout tried to cut in, moved as if to stand back up. Spy snared a hand in the front of Scout’s shirt, and though he knew full well that he wasn’t strong enough to actually stop Scout in any capacity, he froze up anyways.

“And—and I know that you deserved a real father, and I knew that,” Spy said, “and I know there is no excuse that can ever be given. There is nothing that I can ever say to make it up to you, or to your mother, or your brothers, nothing. And I should have been there but I was scared and I was convinced I was being hunted and I cared too much about all of you to let that happen because of me, and it was selfish—“

“Spy,” Scout said, and it took all the strength that Spy had just to look at him, and there were a lot of emotions on his face just then. He saw realization, for one. Shock, astonishment maybe.

And for the first time in maybe his entire life, Spy decided that he just needed to be honest. 

“I’m your father, Jeremy,” Spy croaked.

Silence. Long, long silence. In the far distance, gunshots and explosions and yelling, soft enough that he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t his imagination.

“You gonna try and say some kind of cool line, now, too?” Scout asked, and his voice was sharp enough to sting, and Spy winced at it. “Some kind of bullshit about how it, it was for my own good? Or that it’s—that you always cared from far away or some shit, that it was better this way? Gonna ask me to fuckin’ forgive you, here on your deathbed?”

“No, I am not,” Spy replied, voice faint. “I know there is nothing I can say to make it up to you. Words are insufficient.” He breathed deeply and forced down the instinct that was telling him to cough. “But I would rather not leave you wondering forever. I thought... this was better than nothing.”

Scout made a noncommittal noise. Silence.

“I get the distinct impression that you are angry with me,” Spy managed.

“Duh, I’m mad at you. Jesus fuck, you have no clue how mad I am at you. But I’m not...” Scout paused to think over his words. “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at... old you. The you who ran off. And... I dunno. Kinda seems like you hate that guy too.”

“Very much,” Spy confirmed.

“Yeah. I dunno. I guess... I dunno.” Scout paused for a long moment. “And... maybe this is better than nothing, I guess. Because... it’s not the same or nothin’, but... I dunno. At least I know now. And... at least I know what my dad’s like now. That’s something.” 

Silence. Spy managed a nod, but not words.

When Scout spoke again, his voice was uncharacteristically level. “You’re gonna die here, aren’t’cha, Spy?”

“Oui. I have no doubt in my mind,” Spy sighed, so quietly that he wasn’t sure Scout could hear it.

Scout was quiet for a minute. He moved to pull Spy’s hand off of his shirt (not that it was difficult), and for one terrifying moment Spy thought he was about to just drop Spy’s hand and stand up and leave him to rot in some hallway on an uncharted island where he would never be found. His vision was darkening rapidly, and he didn’t think he had the strength to try and stop him again, or that it would even work.

But instead Scout clasped Spy’s hand in his own and held it tight to his chest, squeezing Spy’s shoulder beneath his hand. “Run hell, asshole,” Scout said with the slightest of smiles, and it was so like Scout to be joking just then, to be trying to comfort him just then even if it was in his own way, to find the most indirect, roundabout method of letting Spy know that things were okay. And it made Spy laugh, and laughing was the last thing that Spy remembered.

-

He saw the last of the color drain from Spy’s face, the way the muscles there slowly went slack, and after a long moment he moved the hand from Spy’s shoulder to check for a pulse. He shifted to try again three times, not positive he was doing it right, before realizing, no. He was definitely doing this right. Spy was dead.

He let his own hand drop, then carefully laid down Spy’s.

Man. Twenty-seven fuckin’ years, and he finally finds his dad, and it’s Spy. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Spy would find a way to escape that kind of conversation and never look back, but he was a little surprised that his solution was apparently dying.

...

That wasn’t that funny.

Scout leaned back, scrubbed at his face with his hand, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. Conflicted emotions. Conflicted thoughts.

Jesus, he should’ve seen it. That dumb dream he’d had back at Heavy’s house when he’d almost died, the stupid jokes Spy kept making about his Ma and the suspicious amount of information Spy had about him, way more than was probably on any official record. And the weird shit Heavy had been saying to him, and all the times Spy stuck his neck out for him when he really didn’t have to—

He didn’t think it was obvious enough for him to guess, but it was definitely obvious enough to suspect.

...So being an asshole ran in the family, huh?

He sat back on his heels.

...His Ma always said they had similar eyebrows. And their eyes in general, apparently. Ears. The mask made it kinda hard to tell.

The mask.

For a few seconds, Scout really genuinely considered taking the mask off.

This was his dad. Ma apparently lost the few pictures she had of him years ago, and this was his only chance. If he didn’t look now, he’d never really know what his dad looked like. Not in a real way. And didn’t he deserve to know? Hadn’t he earned this?

But he couldn’t, and he knew he couldn’t. That was a kind of disrespect he couldn’t stoop to, not even to a dead guy.

He didn’t know why, but he felt himself tearing up.

If he made it out of this alive, he made a promise to himself. He was gonna talk to Miss P—those two were friends, right?—and he was gonna find out more about Spy. He’d hire a private eye if he had to, he’d spend every penny of his Tom Jones money figuring out everything he could. Spy hadn’t given him a lot to work with, but it was something. It was enough.

He wiped his eyes, rocked forward to stand, shook himself. For a second he thought about getting Medic, seeing if he could work his magic, but he’d only seen Sniper for a minute, only long enough for him to say that coming back to life was a one-time deal. He took a deep breath and turned, starting to walk down the hallway. Running off felt wrong just then.

Maybe God was looking out for him, just then, because that meant he hadn’t turned the corner down the hall, which meant he heard the feeble little cough behind him and could turn around, could see that Spy had a hand lifted.

A pause to process.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Scout scathed in the angriest voice he could manage, even as he felt tears leap into his eyes.

[majorshiraharu]

Meeting The Mandalorian | Chapter 1 - Hiding

The Mandalorian- Din Djarin (Mando) x GN Reader

- Warnings: none

- Summary: Reader is a Bounty Hunter who previously was part of the Empire but worked as a spy against them, allowing the Rebels to destroy bases and get key information during the war. Because of this, the Reader became a target for the Empire and has been working as a Bounty Hunter trying to lie low while the Empire still lives on in the outer rim.

not my gif

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

"Pass me another drink droid," you say, sliding your empty glass towards the droid who was serving the bar. As the droid slides back a refilled glass, a gloved hand stops it midway. Looking up at the owner of the hand you notice he's wearing beskar, and when he turned to face you, there was no doubt, that was the helmet of a Mandalorian. He was a Mandalorian. Great, who d'you piss off this time, you thought, trying to keep yourself from panicking. Maybe he was just here for a drink, no, how could you be so stupid. Everyone now always says they don’t remove their helmets, so how could he possibly drink anything here. Compared to his beautifully crafted beskar, your armor looked like it was scavenged by Jawas. A mismatch of pieces that could barely protect you from a single indirect shot. Luckily you were a pretty good fighter and preferred the lighter load, so you could outmaneuver opponents with heavier gear like his. You were, after all, a former ISB agent, trained in a number of different fighting styles to best fit any situation. But if you were unlucky he knew that, and that's why he was here, to collect the bounty on your head. Despite your best efforts to sabotage most missions the Empire had sent you on, the New Republic still wasn't a fan of yours. However, it wasn't the New Republic who set the bounty but some former Imp's who found out about what you'd been doing. Few people in the core worlds believed the Empire was even still around, but small groups were remnants of the once overwhelming force that suffocated the galaxy. Now they were hiding in the outer rim, an area mostly unbothered by the New Republic, only seeing the occasional scouting groups. You'd heard whispers about there being a Mandalorian out here. Apparently, he had betrayed his bounty hunter guild. The rumor was that he took something, something that was extremely valuable and irreplaceable. Well, if he tried anything you'd at least get a reward if you beat him, that is, if he didn't just kill you right there. The bounty on your head was for dead or alive. Maybe he'd be the kind to take you in alive. Use you as leverage to repair his standing with the bounty hunter's guild. "Unless you're planning on taking off that helmet and drinking my drink, slid it over." You scoffed, hoping it would hide the anxiety building in you. During your time at the ISB you had come across a few Mandalorian, but none with the rumored reputation of this man. His head turned ever so slightly. If you hadn't been staring at him, you'd probably have missed this subtle movement. You always wondered how they could see out of that kind of helmet, it offered great protection but with limited vision. He turned his head to look at the other guests in the bar, noting that some were also bounty hunters. Just when he thought he found a relatively quiet planet, must be the same reason the others are here too though. Before turning his head back in your direction, he slides the glass over, but once he turns his head, he notices you're gone. Instead, some random man was standing there, thanking Mando for the drink he just slid over to him. Giving a half hazard mumble in reply, Mando looked around, trying to see where you went. Noticing a door, he heads towards it, stepping out of it to see nothing but trees. Suddenly the door hits him, knocking him off the small set of stairs that lead to the ground. Letting out a grunt as he hit the dirt. Looking up just in time to see you take off running. You'd been hiding behind the door. He curses at himself for making such a dumb oversight. He should have known there wasn't enough time for you to have already run to the tree cover, not to mention there were no footprints in the muddy dirt. "Hey! Urgh..." He huffed as he got up and gave chase. Soon realizing that you were running towards the Razor Crest. You must have seen him land, now he knows for sure you're another one of those bounty hunters after the child. He had left him on the ship because he was sleeping, not wanting to wake him. Luckily, the ship had excellent defenses and would be hard for someone to just enter. Shooting his wrist-mounted wire at you, he's able to get it looped around your ankle, pulling it back swiftly so you'd fall. It all happened so fast, by the time you cut it off and went to stand up, he tackled you. Pinning your arm behind your back, but you hit your head against his, the helmet making it extremely painful for you but knocking his balance off just enough to free yourself. Spinning around, you kick his feet out from under him before kicking him in the chest with your other foot. Before you could even run more than a few steps, he already caught your wrist in his hand, slamming you against the side of the ship. His forearm pushed against your neck, the cold metal of his beskar making it even more uncomfortable. "If you're going to take me in just shoot me already, I won't go back there alive," you growled trying to free yourself, but between the armor and his strength, there was no budging him. "What?" He questioned, slightly loosening his pressure on you. "If you're here for the Imp's bounty, just kill me now, I'm not going back there." You say. He's oddly still. You couldn't see his face but knew that he was thinking over what you said, that he was confused by it. - He frees you and stands back up, to your surprise extending his hand to you. Noticing the confused expression on your face, he reassured you that he wasn't trying to pull anything on you and once again extended his hand. "Any enemy of the Empire is worth hearing out... So what are you doing here?" He asked with a more relaxed tone and posture.  "I'm just here trying to lie low and avoid the scum hunting me, I assumed you were here for the bounty on me." "... You assumed I was just scum here to take you back to the Empire?" His tone turned into playful annoyance, though he tried not to let it come through in his voice; you could still tell that he wasn't a fan of the Empire. "Well, you did do a job, for them from what I’ve heard. I thought you would use me as leverage to repair your reputation with them and the guild..."  "How does everyone know about this...ugh... I'm not here for you, I was also just trying to lie low for a while with the kid and maybe repair my ship." Looking over at his ship you place your hand on your chin inspecting the chaos that was parked before your eyes. "Maybe I could help with that," you say with a small smile as you turn back around to look at him. Tilting his head as confusion now washed over him, unsure of what you mean. 

“You would repair my ship?”    “If you’ll take me to a different planet after I do, I’d happily fix it, mine got torn apart on the last planet I was on...”

“Jawas?” He asked with a laugh.  “Jawas....” -- to be continued in chapter 2 -- If you’d like to be tagged in Mando content or this chaptered fic plz let me know <3 idk how many chapters it will be xD

[alinakerrin]

June Prompt: Garden hose

Still doing catch-up, so here’s the second one. Once again, check out @creativepromptsforwriting‘s June prompts.

“Stop!” Scout yelled, as Sniper hit him with a blast of water from across the garden again. “I swear to God Sniper, I will put that hose up your ass.”

“Sounds like a fun time to me,” he chuckled, and ducked as Scout threw a clod of dirt at him.

“Garçons, please!” Spy said, skirting past them, “I would hate for my house to be destroyed before I have moved in.”

“It’s a christening!” Scout said, shrugging like that would absolve him.

“I would rather christen it by drinking after everyone is gone,” Spy said, placing the carton of plants by the door of the greenhouse, “Not by being hit by soil.”

The whole team had offered—demanded—to help Spy move in, and given just how much stuff he had accumulated over his many years, he had no choice but to say yes. They had already got all the boxes into the house, and most of them were unpacking and organising everything. Spy had chucked Scout and Sniper out into the garden for misbehaving, demanding that they follow his garden plan—which Scout was still reeling from, who has a garden plan, what the hell—and stay away from the breakables.

“You’re just scared of your suits getting dirty,” Scout said back.

“Or wet,” Sniper added.

“There’s been worse on them,” Spy said, looking unimpressed.

“Like blood?” Scout suggested innocently.

“Not what I was thinking, but yes, blood.”

“You’ve had worse than blood?” Sniper looked incredulous. “What’s worse than that?”

“Other bodily fluids,” Spy said, in a tone that was meant to be bland, but only increased their interest.

“Which ones? Spy, which fucking fluids?” Sniper called after him, but Spy didn’t answer. Sniper and Scout exchanged a horrified look, before Scout did a full-body cringe, covering his face with his hands.

“Fuck I don’t wanna know. It better not be cum—fuck it is, isn’t it. It’s fucking cum. I’m gonna die, Snipes.”

Sniper hummed looking down at the hose with an evil smile. He took aim and pulled the trigger. It took Spy and Medic to pull stop the resulting water fight, both muttering about children in their native tongues. Scout flicked water at him, making him chuckle.

“You’re an ass,” Scout said, going to sort out the plants that Spy had left. Sniper intercepted him, kissing him on the cheek before taking the plants.

“This ones on me, Roo. You wouldn’t know what to do with a plant if it gave you instructions.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I kept a cactus alive once.”

“You’re a regular Carl Linnaeus, love.”

“Who?”

“He’s the bloke that named a bunch of plants.”

“Huh… what would you name a plant?”

“Depends,” Sniper said, potting the first tomato plant. “If it’s a scary fucker I’d have to give a scary name.”

“I’d name mine after the Red Sox.”

“Yeah that tracks.” Sniper said, “I think that might work out ok. As long as the plant’s red. Although maybe there’s irony if it isn’t.”

Scout didn’t respond, and when Sniper turned to look at him, he was blasted in the face with water.

“You fucker!” He spluttered, as Scout laughed hysterically, setting off yet another fight. Spy sat back this time, watching Heavy and Medic admonish the pair, trying not to feel too fond as he watched his son hit Sniper with his sopping wet baseball cap.

[phobiadeficient]

Sniper after acquiring a French-English dictionary: :)

yeah this is where we’re at

(warnings for the fact that scout really thought he was gonna get away with just never telling sniper what words translate to and also potentially bad french)

-

“Spy, do you happen to have a translation dictionary?” Sniper asked, pausing as he passed by the open door to Spy’s smoking room. His eyebrows were furrowed just slightly, and his shoulders slouched.

“To translate unclear requests into something human beings say? Unfortunately, no. It would come in handy at the moment,” Spy replied without looking up from his work dusting off some of the picture frames at the far wall.

“I need a French-English one. Your son’s being... frustrating,” he clarified after a moment. “He keeps switching over into French to say things to me, then not bothering to tell me what he said and refusing to tell me what it means.”

“Simple solution: stop talking to my son,” Spy chimed pleasantly, still not turning around.

Sniper set his jaw. “Look, I can tell he’s upset about something, and maybe if I knew what he was saying more than half the time, I’d be able to figure out what,” he said outright.

Spy was quiet for a few moments. Hung the picture he’d been polishing off back on the wall. Tilted it just so until it was straight. “And what makes you think you’re the one who needs to solve this particular puzzle?” he inquired.

“I’d like to try, at least,” Sniper mumbled, shrugging, glancing off to one side.

A hum, then a considerable pause, then Spy was moving to the next picture frame, tilting a few books out of place on his bookshelf on the way. “I’d like them back in one piece by this time tomorrow, if I’m not in here then leave them on my desk,” he said, tone crisp, and Sniper hurried to take the books before he changed his mind.

And it would help if the French had any common sense about how consonants and vowels strung together, he needed to glance through at least two of their indexes before he even had a concept of what any of the words would sort of somewhat sound like, and then he was fighting with the reference on sentence structure for some time until he gave in and figured he’d have better luck just flipping through to find the words he needed.

‘Tu’ was ‘you’, apparently, which made sense. ‘Je veux’ was ‘I want’, which also made sense, that was one that he heard a good amount of. ‘Bien’ was ‘good’. And that was all he could learn from a few of the books without scanning the pages individually.

It took him an hour total to become frustrated enough to think about asking for help from one of the other more book-smart mercenaries, but he quickly abandoned the idea. He was fairly sure Scout was lying when he said what the phrases meant, but on the off chance that it was true, he didn’t want to air out their more private activities to the entire goddamn team.

He ended up scanning through the singular English-to-French dictionary he’d been given, deciding to just go down the list to try to memorize enough to at least call Scout out when he next lied.

‘Stop’ was ‘arrêtez’, or some variation of it. ‘My mouth’ was ‘mon bouche’, ‘my hair’ was ‘mon cheveux’, ‘my face’ was ‘mon visage’, all of which were phrases he did actually faintly remember hearing at some point, but not nearly as often as Scout claimed to say them.

He ended up finding ‘J’adore’, which was apparently the beginning of the sentence. It meant ‘I love’, which made Sniper blink, and he realized all at once that Scout had really just been downplaying whatever it was that he was saying, because never once had he repeated that particular part of the phrase in English. At most, he simplified it down to him wanting something, or a few things.

And then he looked down at the line below that, and saw ‘Je t’aime’, and saw what that meant, and his heart nearly stopped.

He’d said that phrase before. Often, several times, so many several times, always so quietly, often not able to look him in the eye.

‘I love you’, over and over, and he never knew. Never.

And he didn’t even have time to figure out what to do with that, either, because he rolled the phrase over in his head again and again as he set the books away in a bag to bring with him to base the next day when he went in for breakfast, and he’d only just turned on the kettle to make himself some coffee and calm down when there was a knock at the door, and of course it was Scout (it was always Scout), and of course he let him in (because Scout knew how to pick locks and would get in either way), and of course they ended up tangled up with each other, Scout trailing his lips up the arch of Sniper’s neck and mouthing there with purpose.

And then Scout was laid out below him in the dim light of evening, eyes half-lidded and face flushed and his lips parted around panting and gasping breaths like every pin-up Sniper had ever been fond of rolled into something new and real that made his chest ache. And despite Scout’s fingernails against his back and the way he choked out pleads for harder and more, to bite him, to play rough, this time he didn’t listen. This time he kept his hips rolling slow and steady, this time he grit his teeth and pulled his self-control together enough to draw this out and stay more gentle than he almost ever was.

And it was when he was mouthing at Scout’s chest absently, head spinning and breath coming hard, that Scout’s constant yet incoherent murmuring solidified into a phrase he knew.

“Je t’aime, je t’aime...” Scout practically whimpered, voice catching, steady like a mantra, and it made Sniper swear hard. “Je t’aime, fuck, I’m so fucking close—“

And then Scout spilled all over his own and Sniper’s stomach, fingernails digging in hard enough to hurt, and then they were releasing, and then Sniper was sliding out to finish himself off in hard, quick strokes.

And then Scout was drawing him back up, ignoring the mess, mouthing at his neck again and humming a noise of contentment, and he said it again. “Je t’aime,” he half-whispered, tone teasing, and Sniper knew the script by then, knew he was meant to ask what that meant, knew he was supposed to nod and hum thoughtfully at whatever clearly incorrect and very joking answer Scout gave, and then he was supposed to kiss Scout for as long as both of them could stay awake and not complain when Scout woke up not long after that and got up and got dressed to leave.

Instead, he quietly asked “You do?”, and Scout slowly pulled back to look at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“I do... what?” he mumbled, blinking.

“You love me?” Sniper asked.

Silence. After about five seconds of that complete silence, Scout moved to get up.

Another second or two for Sniper to realize what he was doing. “Scout?” he asked, confused.

With efficiency, he watched Scout pull on his briefs and pants where they’d been abandoned next to the bed. He then started wrestling with his shirt, visibly trying to yank it on quickly.

“Scout, don’t,” Sniper tried, words a jumble in his mind, “you don’t—“

“Shuttup,” Scout all but spat through gritted teeth, finally getting his shirt on over his head and starting to shove his feet into his shoes.

“Scout,” he tried again, but that was when he gave up and just picked the shoes up with a hard sigh, storming out of the camper and slamming the door of it behind him.

-

An hour later Sniper took the stack of books with him back to base, hoping to drop them off so he could maybe try to get some sleep, already seeing himself sitting up every twenty minutes to flip back through to look at that page again, look at that phrase again, just to check to make sure he knew what it meant. And frankly he couldn’t afford to be up all night dealing with this, he had work in the morning and needed to be alert, so better to hand them in and get some rest and deal with it in the morning—assuming he could find Scout, at least.

And he knocked on the door to the smoking room, pushed it open at the “yes?” that came from within, and peered around it to catch sight of Spy sitting in the far chair with a glass of some kind of whiskey, eyebrows raised at him.

“Came by to return these,” he mumbled, ducking in and avoiding eye contact, making his way over to the desk across the room. “I ‘ppreciate you lending them to me, but I’ve... I don’t need them now.”

“Oh?” Spy asked in one of those odd tones that made it clear he was probably judging you, and Sniper managed not to flinch at it.

“I know it’s late, I’ll... I’ll just leave them and go,” he said, putting the books on the desk and turning around, shooting a glance at Spy and finally catching that his expression was slightly different than the sarcastic surprise he usually went with, eyebrows just a bit too high, eyes just a touch too wide. Then he caught the way Spy glanced off towards the other armchair, then finally caught sight of Scout curled up in it, knees close to his chest, not quite visible from the door, wearing a similar expression to Spy.

Well, not exactly. His eyes were a little bit wider, and reddened, and his hair was mussed and damp like he’d just taken a shower, and he was in a pair of pajamas Sniper hadn’t ever seen—neither of them generally bothered getting into pajamas before they turned in for the night, usually just getting dressed and heading back to the place they were meant to be sleeping. They looked soft.

Spy was the one to break the silence and stillness over the room, eyebrows raising an increment further as he stood and moved to the door, handing Scout what was left of his own drink on the way out. The two of them had a short, whispered argument in what sounded like Spanish—or rather Scout had an argument and Spy just hummed out a phrase or two before getting to the door and shutting it behind him. “Dad,” he said with some amount of feeling, but then it was closed.

Silence again. Scout looked at Sniper. Sniper looked at Scout. Scout chugged what was left of Spy’s drink and set it to one side, then took another hard gulp of his own, glaring down and off to one side.

“Why’d you run?” Sniper asked simply, the words coming easily now that he’d had an hour to mull them over.

Scout took another gulp of his glass. Set his jaw. Paused. “That’s what I do,” he finally said, voice sharp, like it should’ve been obvious, like it was a dumb question. “I run. I leave. I get the fuck outta places before they mess me up. Or... as soon as I figure out they’re gonna mess me up.”

“You think I’ll do that?” Sniper asked quietly.

“Fuck, I dunno, probably,” Scout spat, glaring at the floor.

“Why?”

“Well—I mean, you didn’t say it back,” Scout said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He took another gulp from his glass. “And it’s... I dunno, maybe that’s not fair. I’m not gonna make you say it if you aren’t ready.”

“Seems like you aren’t, neither,” Sniper pointed out.

Scout sighed again, more at himself than anything else. “Can we pretend this never happened?” he asked, and he seemed so small in that moment, curled up in that armchair with that little glass, eyes red and hair messy.

“I don’t know,” Sniper admitted, inhaled, exhaled. “But we can try.”

Scout paused, looked at his glass with maybe slightly more interest than was warranted. “I won’t say it again,” he tried. “I... I dunno. I dunno what I was thinkin’.”

A pause. “I wanted... to ask if you meant it,” Sniper said slowly, and saw Scout’s jaw tighten. “But that wouldn’t very well be ‘pretending it never happened’, would it?”

“Nah, it wouldn’t,” Scout agreed, and chugged the last of his drink. He turned the glass around in his hand. “Uh.”

“...Are we awright, then? Squared away?” Sniper asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, totally. For sure,” Scout agreed, nodding absently.

“Aces.” Sniper moved to leave, swerving just slightly out of his way to pass by Scout, leaning and pressing a kiss to his temple briefly. “See you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, see you.”

He paused a short way down the hallway, shifted on his feet. “Spy?” he asked the air.

“Oui?” a patch of nothing just to one side asked in reply.

“Thanks,” he said, and kept walking, and would never know how hard Spy rolled his eyes at the both of them and their young love theatrics.

[lu-undy]

Lady!spy(Lucinda??) and male!spy (Lucien) going at it about their respective partners lady’s all like “my beautiful wife is much more better at being a sniper then your stupid boy dog husband!” And Lucien’s like “how dare you that dog is best sniper in all the land is much more mature then precious wife!” And both snipers are just sitting there like “we leave you two for 5 minutes to go hunting-“

Here we go for female Spy and female Sniper meet with their counterparts!

"Your taste in women is as awful as your taste in cigarettes." 

"Still better than your taste in men." 

The male RED Spy arched an eyebrow to his female BLU counterpart. They were enjoying a coffee in a café, at the entrance of a large forest that was also a park. 

"Your Sniper is really your partner?" He asked.

"I could ask the same." She answered.

"Did no other teammate find grace to your eyes?" 

"No other man entirely, actually." She answered. 

They both took a sip. 

"You haven't tried mine." He quipped with a smirk.

"Is this an invitation? You may try mine meanwhile."

"Just you try." He threatened and she chuckled. "Lay a finger on him and I will make you eat it." 

"You lay a finger on her and I will make you eat it, from the wrong end."

They both chuckled. 

"Is your contract finished then?" He asked. 

"Well, the usual BLU Spy and Sniper are back from their injuries and they passed their medical checks successfully… We received confirmation from the Administrator too and we are out." 

"Having to deal with females was refreshing." The RED one said. "Although I do wonder how you managed to survive amongst seven men who haven't seen a woman in years now." He raised the cup to his lips.

"We made out in front of them." 

He nearly spat his coffee out and coughed. 

"I beg your pardon?!" 

"You heard me correctly. We made out openly in front of them and showed them how uninterested we were in them. We then proceeded to never hide our relationship and live it openly in front of them. They had to accept it."

"Even your Scout?" He asked. 

"The boy is obnoxious, pretentious and loud. But he is kind hearted deep down. He just needs to grow up."

The RED Spy lowered his head to hide a smile. 

"Kind hearted he is indeed."

She looked at him briefly and frowned. 

"Do you know him?" 

"Non, not the way I should. But I know that much about him." 

Their eyes met and she saw something in his. Something that only some come to know, when they get older, if they are lucky enough. 

"Ah, I see." She said with a smile. 

"You too?" He asked. 

"Yes." She answered. "Only mine knows." 

"Ah…" He nodded and took a sip. 

Silence fell for a while. 

"Still, your taste for men is out of my mind. He is weathered, scruffy, dirty…"

"An animal, oui." He answered. "And if we are being very truthful, it has its advantages, in some contexts." He smirked. 

"Dirty."

"Some like it that way." He shrugged with a malicious smile and they shared a laugh. "But yours… How on Earth can she be a sharpshooter? Lady spies I have heard of, but ladies who are good with a long rifle…"

"That's what someone without a long rifle would say…" 

He caught the innuendo straight away.

"Please… How old are we…?" 

"Still, she is one of a kind indeed and that's part of the reason I let myself fall for her." 

"Mh!" He gulped down the last bit of his coffee. "That is a very accurate way to phrase it, 'let myself fall for him.' " 

"It is true that we spies don't have the luxury of choice."

"We normally give away our freedom so that most can enjoy it." He added. 

"But as mercenaries…" She started.

"Freedom is back." He concluded.

"Freedom to live,..."

"And freedom to love. Oh, speaking of…" 

Both Snipers emerged, the RED male one finishing to laugh. 

"Here you are, eh? Right where we left you." He said. 

"You didn't move by an inch?" The BLU lady Sniper asked. 

"No, we didn't." 

"I mean I understand for him," the lady Sniper started. "Even with your mask on, you look and sound quite old…" 

"Oi, there, sheila…" Her male counterpart answered. "I'm not saying anything on your lady's funny accent." 

"Funny accent?! She's British! Your man's got the funny voice, what is he? Italian or something?" 

"French, he's French, y'know, the refined ones with the thin moustaches?"

"Yeah, the stinky ones." 

"Says the sheila who throws her own piss jars at us." 

"As if you didn't do that." 

"Yeah but at least I can piss straight in them." 

Both Spy's facepalmed. 

"I think we got the point, darling."

"Mon amour…" 

[My love…]

They both rose from their seats. The male Sniper wrapped an arm around his lover's waist and the female one copied him symmetrically. 

"So," The French Spy looked at the couple of women. "This is goodbye, I presume." He extended his hand out and they shook it. 

"It was good knowin' you, gals." Sniper added, shaking their hands too. 

"Good luck to you." The female Spy said. "And good luck to your family." She winked at her male counterpart. 

"Same to you." 

"Hey, lanky arse." The female Sniper addressed her counterpart. "Take care of your old sweetheart."

"Don't worry, I got him." He kissed Spy's temple. 

"And his backside is everything but lanky, I can tell you that." Spy answered before they shared a laugh. 

The females turned their backs and headed off, leaving the males alone. 

"Funny bunch, those sheilas.” Mundy looked down at his lover.

“Indeed. But I cannot help thinking we share more common points than differences.” Lucien answered.

“Yeah, you’re right… Anyway, wanna eat something?”

“Non.” Lucien answered.

“You sure? I’m quite hungry. That walk in the forest worked up my appetite.”

Lucien turned to his lover. 

“I guess I would cook something up for you…”

“Ooh,” Lucien’s tone of voice meant that that dinner wasn’t going to be enjoyed in the kitchen. “Well then, go ahead, I’m following.”

Lucien walked back to the van, Mundy eagerly on his heels. When the Frenchman climbed up, he felt a sharp smack on his backside and bit his lip. 

“Someone is impatient!”

“Just checking…” Mundy closed the door after him and towered his lover, wrapping his hands to knead his backside. “It’s tender, I'd say rare or medium rare, just how I like it.” 

Lucien raised devious eyes to his lover. 

“Bon appétit.”

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

Missing Pieces

for @buckybarnesbingo !!!

by: Lira (me)

square filled: U1 - galaxy

main pairing: bucky/clint

rating: T

major tags: emotional hurt comfort, childhood memories, angst with a happy ending, established relationship

summary: When Clint becomes down and distracted, Bucky takes it upon himself to discover what's bothering his boyfriend. Even though Clint won't talk about it. Even though Bucky has too many missing pieces. Or, In which Bucky goes to great lengths to make Clint smile.

word count: 2942

*

“He’s on the roof again, isn’t he.”

Natasha nods, eyes flicking almost imperceptibly to the ceiling. Bucky shoves his hands into his pockets, his face drawn down in a scowl.

“He still not talking about it?” she asks.

He glares, she quirks an eyebrow. He almost laughs; they rarely have to resort to words to communicate.

Bucky walks back through the doors, heading up to the roof.

“He’s sad,” Natasha says with a sigh. “He just doesn’t know how to show it.” Then, softer, “Please find a way to help him. This doesn’t seem to be a take him to the gym until he punches it out or tease him until he screams at me kind of situation. I’m pretty sure it’s boyfriend territory.”

“I–” He stops, unsure how to go on. He knows it pains her to admit she can’t solve a problem on her own. “Thanks, Natalia.” He doesn't look back, but he can feel her downcast, almost-smile.

* 

He finds Clint on one of his rooftop perches, the one that sticks out over the edge of nothingness and makes Bucky’s stomach do a little flip-flop to see Clint so easily sprawled there. His lithe, muscular body looks relaxed, like he could roll off any second, but Bucky knows he’s in perfect control. Bucky takes a moment to just look at him: straw colored hair turned silver in glow of the rooftop lights, head leaned back so he can stare at the cloud-streaked sky, a band-aid on the back of his hand. His hand… The rest of him looks relaxed, but the hand Bucky can see is balled into a fist.

Clint holds his tension in his hands.

Bucky makes sure his steps are loud enough that Clint isn’t startled when he says, “Hey doll.”

Waiting until Bucky’s standing almost behind him, Clint swings his body around so he’s straddling the perch, his feet hanging down in the air, arms folded on the top of the metal post that had been his backrest, chin resting lightly on his crossed wrists.

“Heya sweetheart.” The easy smile is missing, but there’s a softening around the eyes.

Bucky eases up close, kissing Clint’s forehead and taking a moment to breathe in the scent of his hair. “Nice night,” he murmurs. “Spy anything interestin’?”

Bucky feels the tension radiating from Clint. “Nothing to see.” His voice has a bitter edge. Waving a hand at the sky, he adds, “There’s nothing but clouds. Not even those, really.”

The sky above them is a hazy muddle of black and grey, with some of the grey being a little brighter and streakier and cloudier. Clint’s right, an airplane could fly directly overhead and they wouldn’t see it.

“Guess not,” he says. “Still, it is a nice night. Almost warm, for September. You mind if I sit up here with you for a while?”

Clint shrugs, then turns back to face the city and the sky again. “Be my guest. It’s Stark’s rooftop anyway.”

It feels like a wall dropped down between them, but if Clint says he can stay, Bucky’s staying.

They don’t talk at all, just sit in silence. It’s awkward at first–not because they’re uncomfortable with each other anymore, but because they both know Clint’s hiding something. Clint’s giving off angry-embarrassed-melancholy vibes that practically chime in the air around him, and Bucky’s projecting “caring boyfriend” as hard as he can. But after twenty minutes or so they both figure out how to calm down and just…be. When Bucky steals glances he notices that while Clint’s hand is still clenching and unchencing, worrying at something, his jaw is relaxed again.

He notices other things too. Clint’s breathing is easy, but every once in a while there’s a slight hitch, as if his breath catches on a stray thought. Whenever there’s a particularly strong gust of wind, he squints at the sky, as if it might reveal something previously unknown. And although his bow and quiver are in easy reach, they’re propped up on the roof behind him, not actually on his person. So whatever’s eating at him, it’s not an outside threat.

Not the kind you can shoot with an arrow, anyway.

“I think I’m gonna head down to bed,” Bucky says, feeling his knees pop as he gets to his feet. He may be a supersoldier, but his body still reacts to being in a semi-uncomfortable position on a hard rooftop for several hours. Not that he hasn’t done it before, in far less pleasurable situations than this. He gives his head a tiny shake, a physical reminder that he’s not the Winter Soldier anymore. He looks at Clint. “You comin’ anytime soon?”

Clint swallows, looks down at his hands, then turns his face away. “I, ah, was thinking I’d maybe sleep up here tonight. The last few nights our bedroom, our floor, the whole Tower, really...it’s all been feeling a bit…” He sighs, then finally turns to look at Bucky. “It all just feels too small.”

Small?

Keeping his voice as even as possible, Bucky says, “Clint, at least fifty percent of the time you spend in the Tower is spent crawling through the vents.”

Clint looks back at the sky. “And yet.”

Bucky presses his lips together, holding back the urge to shout, “What is wrong?” at the top of his voice. After a beat he says, “I’ll go get you some blankets, then. Or,” he adds, inspiration striking, “I could send Natalia?”

“Got everything I need.” Clint gestures vaguely over his shoulder, and Bucky sees a muddle of darker darkness he’d missed before among the other shadows on the roof. There’s a cot and a sleeping bag and a pillow, even a thermos Bucky’s sure is full of coffee.

“Say, were you a Boy Scout?” Bucky teases.

“Just because I wasn’t a Scout doesn’t mean I can’t be prepared.” There’s an almost hurt tone to Clint’s voice, hurt and maybe a little reproachful.

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, so he just lets the silence stretch for a few more minutes. Then he puts his hands on Clint’s shoulders and kisses the top of his head. “Night, doll,” he murmurs into Clint’s hair.

Our bed won’t be the same without you, he wants to say.

Pretty sure I won’t sleep tonight, thinkin’ about you up here in the cold, he thinks.

Do you know I hold onto a pillow when you’re not around to hold at night? he doesn’t ask.

Instead of saying anything at all, he takes one more breath, waits one more moment, then turns and walks away.

 *

Bucky doesn’t get much sleep. He thoroughly examines their darkened ceiling, the shadows on the walls, the thoughts bombarding the inside of his skull. He’s trying to put together a puzzle with too many missing pieces. There’s a sick feeling in his stomach at the image; it’s too much like a look back at his own past. There are too many things he still doesn’t remember, even after all this time.

He dozes off a little after three am, sleeps for about an hour. He’s not restored when he wakes, just cranky and tired because the bed is–of course–empty, and all he can think is that Clint must be cold without his own personal supersoldier to warm him up. After a few minutes of attempting to kick the blankets and pillows into submission he gives up and stomps to the bathroom to shower; Tony won’t be happy if he breaks another of their beds, even if he breaks this one on his own.

 *

Although he wants to take breakfast to Clint on the roof, sense wins and Bucky waits in the kitchen. He knows Clint will be down fairly early; that thermos might last a person with an average coffee habit a whole cold night, but Clint’s coffee addiction is far from average.

Bleary-eyed from less than stellar sleep and rosy cheeked from wind, Clint stumbles into the common floor at 5:27. Bucky’s waiting with a mug of coffee, hand outstretched.

As expected, Clint doesn’t speak. His grabby hands speak for him.

“Mornin’ doll,” Bucky says with a grin. As Clint slumps onto the stool Bucky flips pancakes and bacon onto a plate and slides it in front of Clint, along with the butter and maple syrup. “Thought you might be needin’ a little pick-me-up.”

“You gonna pick me up?” Clint says with a sly, sleepy wink. He punctuates the wink with a jaw-cracking yawn.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “Even exhausted and half frozen you can’t help a good innuendo, can you.”

“Never,” Clint says, digging into his breakfast; with less alacrity than normal, maybe, but at least he’s eating. After a few bites he looks up at Bucky, leaning against the counter a few feet away, and smiles. A real smile. “Thanks. This hits the spot.”

“You’re just sayin’ that cause I made coffee,” Bucky drawls.

“I’m able to speak because you made coffee. I’m saying thank you because you made bacon.”

It’s a nearly normal day in the Tower: the usual breakfast and light-hearted bickering, target practice on the range, working out in the gym, playing ridiculously competitive games of MarioKart in the afternoon. Clint is there but not there; he participates, and even though his shooting is flawless as usual he’s clearly distracted, at least to Bucky’s trained eye. Clint’s not fully engaged in anything, and so much of Bucky’s attention is focused on Clint that when they’re sparring Sam lands a punch Bucky could have easily blocked. Everyone in the room collectively gasps a breath.

Almost everyone. Clint doesn’t even notice.

Later in the day, from the corner of his eye, Bucky spies Clint peeking down from one of the vents.

His mind keeps coming back to the puzzle with too many missing pieces. There’s no way to see what the picture is with a bit of the border and a few scattered center pieces. The vents are okay, but the Tower at night is too small? And how does any of that connect to Clint’s air of melancholy, his distraction? It’s bewildering.

Clint sleeps on the roof again that night.

 *

Bucky’s a little jittery with nerves when, two nights later, he joins Clint on the rooftop again. When he stands behind him, resting his hands on his shoulders, he feels Clint relax, minutely, at his touch. Just that tiny thing calms him, and when he speaks his words are even, without a hint of a tremble.

“Will you try something for me, doll?”

Clint swings around to face him in that easy, graceful way he has. Bucky’s seen it a hundred times, a thousand, but he’s still in awe. He moves like the world had been built as his playground, like gravity is something to be toyed with instead of taken seriously.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Clint’s smile is slight but true, so Bucky barrels onward.

“Come downstairs. You don’t have to stay,” he adds quickly, seeing the smile on Clint’s face ebb away. “I promise. I just want to show you something.”

Bucky can see Clint pulling bits of himself inward, building that protective shell that’s been coming up more and more the past week or so, but still he climbs onto the roof, snagging his bow with one hand and reaching his other out to find Bucky’s in the glow of the rooftop lights.

“Alright,” he says, trusting.

Squeezing Clint’s fingers, Bucky says, “Yeah. Alright.”

 *

The lack of typical Clint chatter is glaring, somehow shouting in the empty, echoing stairwell. But neither of them hesitates. Bucky, for one, is too focused on getting Clint to their bedroom, keeping him tethered to the earth when his ever-increasing nerves threaten to carry him away. Clint is probably miles away, in another state if Bucky’s guess is correct. He’ll find out soon if he’s found the missing puzzle pieces.

In the doorway of their bedroom Clint says, “Huh. It’s clean.”

Bucky fights to resist and fails. “That’s what happens when you’re not here to throw everything everywhere,” he says, his voice dry. “Half of this couple knows how to put things away. Maybe you’ve figured out which half that is.”

Clint chuckles. “Aw, Buck, you wouldn’t want me any other way.”

Leading him to the bed, Bucky asks, “But isn’t it nice to be able to walk across the floor without tripping? Maybe we could use as many as ten fewer bandaids per year if you just put your dirty clothes in the hamper.”

Clint sits willingly enough, but when Bucky tries to pull him down so they’re laying side by side on their backs, Clint resists. He’s laughing, but there’s an edge to his words when he asks, “Was all this just about getting me to bed?”

“Doll, we’ve had sex on that roof more times than I can count.”

He feels Clint relax beside him. “Remember when Tony caught us under the quinjet? Ah, good times.”

Sitting up, Bucky rests a hand on Clint’s thigh, rubbing soothing circles. “Jesting aside. If you’re uncomfortable you can go, but…” He’s looking for the right words to say when he feels Clint’s hand on his. “It’s alright,” Clint says. “I trust you.”

It’s moments like these Bucky fought for–still fights for. Tiny bits of closeness, of another human being reassuring him he’s still human himself, still true, still worthy of love. He kisses Clint’s forehead–he rather desperately wants to do more but this particular bedroom visit is not about sex and he doesn’t want to give either of them the wrong idea–and sprawls beside him, tangling their fingers together. “Ready, JARVIS?”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Wha–” Clint starts, but his question is answered almost before he can ask it when the room plunges into darkness.

“Oh.”

Just one word and Bucky knows it’s going to be alright. Awe and wonder and no more walls between them.

“Stevie helped, but it was my idea. I just asked him ’cause he’s used to holding a paintbrush.”

Laughing, Clint squeezes Bucky’s hand and scoots closer on the bed. “How’d you do it?” His voice, soft, is lighter than it’s been in days.

“Glow in the dark paint.”

Clint elbows Bucky in the side. “I can see that. I mean…” He waves at the stars on the ceiling, the patterns and constellations mimicking the sky they can’t quite see through the light pollution of the city.

“JARVIS projected the, ah, map, I guess you’d call it, onto the ceiling, and Tony rigged up some hover platforms for us to lay on while we painted. Just call me Michaelangelo,” Bucky deadpans.

Clint turns his head and presses a kiss into Bucky’s shoulder. “Thanks, Buck. I–” His breath hitches; he takes a minute, then starts over. “When I was a kid I used to climb out my window onto the roof, when things got to be...too much. The sky was so big, I could look at the stars and just...get lost. Forget about everything else in the vastness of the universe.” He chuckles, though it sounds a bit forced in Bucky’s ears. “Not that I was thinking like that back in those days. Mostly I was just thinking that I was alone on the roof, but I’d be really alone if I could get to the stars.” After a shaky breath he adds, “Alone and safe.”

They look at the stars together for one breath, two breaths. Then Bucky says, “I’m sorry it had to be that way for you.”

“I’m not.” Before Bucky can object, Clint says, “Don’t get me wrong, there are times–many times, if I’m honest–I wish my childhood could have been brighter. Warmer. Safer. But all that crap is what made me who I am. Would I have ever picked up a bow if Barney and I hadn’t run away and joined the circus? Would I be an Avenger? Or would I be married with a dog and two kids and a white picket fence?”

Still staring up into the galaxy spread out above them, Bucky says, slow and soft, “Without my own hellish past I’d be an old man now. Or…” He doesn’t finish the thought, but they’re both thinking the word. Dead. A word they both think often enough, in their line of work, but try not to think about each other. Or say. Almost as one they move closer together, heads clunking almost audibly.

“Ow!” The sound Clint makes is half laugh, half bark of pain.

And then Bucky’s laughing; loud, full laughter that eats away all the tension that’s been building for days. Soon they’re clinging to each other, laughing so hard tears stream from their eyes. Laughing until they can’t even remember why, until they’re only laughing because it feels so good.

“So,” Bucky says when their laughter fades to the occasional gasp or giggle. “Is it okay to say I’m glad you walked down the path that led to me?”

With barely contained laughter in his voice, Clint says, “Only if I can say I’m glad you made it all the way to my present to be struck by Cupid’s arrow.”

 *

Clint does not sleep on the roof that night...but he and Bucky do sleep under the stars.

***

We are made of stardust– every atom in you, in me, once came from Sirius, or Alpha Centauri; they hung from the buckle of Orion’s belt or fell from Cassiopeia’s fingertips.

So together we make up a galaxy an ocean of stars with islands of planets

and where our lips meet, a supernova.

[cheerfulmelancholies]

Medical Mechanical-Ch. 4

"This is it, Diana. Just one more day and then it'll be over." She stopped mumbling to herself as she secured her bike to its usual light post. It was Friday and she couldn't wait for the weekend. Not only would she have more time to relax, she could also do some digging on MM. Despite these benefits, however, the best part about the next two days was that she wouldn't have to hear all the gossip and nonsense about her and her father.

Walking into first period gave her the exact same scenario she'd just escaped from yesterday, only now Megan and her gaggle of hens stood waiting by her usual spot. Joanne wore an especially smug expression, as though she'd achieved something Diana had no hope of gaining. She groaned and craned her gaze to the ceiling before entering the danger zone.

"What," she said before they could open their mouths.

Megan faltered for a millisecond before offering one of her signature grins. "Well, aren't you just excited to be here today," she said, tone patronizing.

Diana blinked and watched her with disinterest.

"You've obviously got other stuff to do so I'll make this quick. I heard Medical Mechanical is about to open a new division." She paused for dramatic affect.

Diana sighed, having no choice but to take the bait. Acting like it physically hurt her, she said, "So?"

"I heard your father is supposed to be at the forefront of it." She caught the slight twitch of an eyebrow and flashed a Cheshire grin. "Apparently, Mr. Ryder is one of their best."

"And you would know this, how?"

"Well, I've met this remarkable man who works at one of their Rapid Response clinics and he said-"

She didn't need to hear anymore. "Let me stop you right there," Diana said, pointing a finger in the other girl's face. "First off, if that's supposed to be some underhanded insult then, wow, you are really losing your edge. I mean, come on. Remarkable," she mocked, imitating the other girl’s voice. "Anyone who's stupid enough to date you isn't any more worth my time than dog shit, so stop trying to make me jealous. And even if you are dating some guy who works there, there's no way he's anywhere near your age, so go ahead and guess what that makes you." She chuckled. "But I'll be kind. I'll go ahead and give you the benefit of the doubt and say you're just full of B.S." She flashed her own sinister grin at the girl's offended look.

"Like you know everything," Joanne snapped, stepping in to defend her leader. "She's just trying to warn you. You're the one whose father works for those freaks."

Turning to satellite two, she said, "Nice defense. Am I supposed to be insulted or what? Isn't she apparently dating someone from there? How's that make her any better?" She looked back at Megan. "And you. I love how you know so much more about my father than me, the person who's actually related to him. I may not know everything he does, but I do know that's bull. Now, if you're done here, I'd like to sit." She finished with a wave to her unoccupied seat.

Megan scoffed. "I was just trying to help you, freak." She spat the word like it tasted foul. "Don't come crying to me when your dad becomes their latest scandal."

"Don't worry," Diana retorted. "You go ahead and worry about your own problems." Without another word she shooed them away and plopped into the chair. She ignored their comments about her father and her messed up family situation. Two minutes later saw the teacher walk in and begin class.

As Ms. Kohl began lecturing them on the importance of the Civil Rights movement, Diana took consecutive glances at the classroom door. Everyone was there but Ethan. She tried to quell her fears by telling herself that he was just running late, or that he'd skipped class. It wasn't unusual, though it kept bothering her. He wasn't like that; he was, like her, too different from the others. She felt a little upset at the thought that he couldn't even show up for her sake, as ridiculous as that sounded. They weren't friends, not really, and he wasn't obligated to stick by her side like glue. He probably just wanted a break from all the harassment.

Still, she found herself missing the camaraderie they shared in being the only two outcasts, and she rather liked the game they played. She tried not to let the disappointment show as she scribbled down notes and periodically fired glares at Megan. When class ended and she carried her things to English, she once again found the room devoid of the boy in question.

It wasn't until lunch that she spotted him, hiding outside at the far end of the campus.

"Where were you?" She was glad she brought her lunch tray with her; he looked like he could use the fuel.

Ethan snapped out of his daze and looked at Diana, surprised. "Oh, hey," he responded. He ran a hand through his hair.

"I don't think that's gonna help." His dark locks were frazzled and sticking up at random angles. No matter how many times he tried to smooth it, the stubborn follicles rebelled.

"Whatever." He refocused his gaze back on the road leading to the school.

"Here." Diana poked him in the arm with the corner of her tray. "You look like you need it," she said to his bewildered expression.

Ethan took it and, with one last glance at the street, motioned with his head for her to follow him. He ignored her questions until they were by the boiler room door away from prying eyes and ears. "Sit," he said, seating himself on the only patch of grass not overtaken by weeds.

"I think I'm good." She folded her arms against herself. This new behavior of his was freaking her out.

He sighed. Picking at the cheap salad, he said, "I was late for a reason, you know."

"Yeah. What was up with that? You're always on time, you nerd." She was trying not to show how much it had bugged her.

"What does your dad tell you about his job?"

The unexpected query took her by surprise. "Nothing much," she said after a moment. His eyes were dead serious.

"You don't know anything about what he does, do you?" He watched her shake her head. "It's the same thing with my mom."

"What does this have to do with you being late?"

"Do you ever keep yourself up at night wondering if any of the rumors are true? Don't you think it's odd... creepy really, that Medical Mechanical never reveals anything they’re working on until it’s done? What do you think they do in that windowless building of theirs?" He let her think about it.

Diana was silent for a few minutes. She didn't like where this was going and a cold stone settled in the pit of her stomach. "I... I know there's something up with them. There has to be. But I don't know what that something is. I'm certainly not gonna get anything from my dad."

Ethan hummed. The tray sat in the dirt beside him, long forgotten. "You never answered my question though."

"Which one?" she joked, though it was devoid of humor.

"If I tell you why I was late, you have to swear not to tell anyone. I'm talking taking it to the grave secret."

"O-okay." She cursed herself for sounding like an unsure child. "I swear," she said, firmer.

"Good. I know I can trust you, I just wanted to make sure you understood how important this was."

He smiled at her and she felt a few stray flutters amidst the ice. "So what's going on?"

He took in a breath. "I was scouting out the MM building where our parents work," he let out. "I didn't get very far; the guards spotted me and chased me off. But I found out a few things."

"You what?!" She hadn't meant to shout. They both glanced around to make sure no one was coming. After glancing at her watch and confirming they still had time, she said, "Do you have any idea how much trouble you'd get into if you were actually caught?"

Despite his situation, he grinned. "Yeah, that would be one hell of a spanking."

"Dude, they know your face. What if they...? Nevermind. Why would you do that?"

The grin faded. "Something's going on and I had to know. Mom's been acting kind of... weird lately. I thought maybe she was just tired from all the work she's been doing but..."

"She's not giving you any answers and you've got a bad feeling." She thought back to Megan's talk of a new division. She thought she'd just been screwing with her, but now...

"I tried looking it up," he went on. "I even went to the damn library. I couldn't find anything about Medical Mechanical other than what they'd already made public. I got in over my head on this one conspiracy site and, well, I just thought I'd try to dig something up myself."

"What do you think this is, a spy movie? They have guards with guns there. They could have shot you." He gave her a strange look and her eyes widened. "They shot at you?"

"Not... exactly." He scratched the back of his head. The hair stayed tangled.

"If there were guns pointed at you and they were firing something, that's being shot at."

Ethan was about to speak when the bell rang. He cursed and stood. Gripping Diana by the shoulders, he locked gazes with her and said, "I need to talk to you about this. Can you meet up with me this weekend?" She nodded. "Alright, good. Give me your phone; I'll add my number."

"This is... a little sudden," she said as he typed in the info.

He looked at her, confused. "What?"

"Nothing," she responded, shaking her head. "This just came out of nowhere, that's all. I still can't believe you did that." She took her phone back and sent a quick text so he'd have her number.

"Yeah, well, you won't believe some of the stuff I found out." He picked up the tray and dusted himself off.

"You seriously expect me to wait until tomorrow? You can't just leave someone hanging like that."

"Sorry, I just feel a little paranoid now." He eyed the boiler room door they'd been standing next to with suspicion. "If you want some food for thought, I'll tell you this: There's no way in or out of that building. I hauled ass for almost the whole perimeter and didn't see a single door, window, vent or even pipes leading out of that thing."

Diana's brows furrowed. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I know. I'll see you later." He walked away then, leaving her standing there dumbly. She snapped herself out of her daze and started towards her next class. She didn't notice the snickers from a group of students near the trash can.

[fruit-teeth]

Matters of Time and Fate (3)

Engineer took a few boxes to the upstairs bedroom, where he paused along the way to look at an old light fixture. It was definitely going to need some repair...he wasn’t sure how long they were going to be here, but he hoped he could have time to do a little renovation.

Just as he set the boxes down, the bedroom door from across the hall opened, and the Administrator stepped out. The sight of her nearly made Dell jolt - he wasn’t expecting her to actually stay with them, yet here she was.

She locked the door, only to glance across the hall and make eye contact with him. Engineer cleared his throat, not wanting things to be awkward.

“Hey, ma’am,” he took a step closer, wanting to keep friendly. “How are ya settling in?”

Helen just shrugged, crossing her arms. “Fine, I suppose. It’s a shame I don’t have my cameras, but I meant to inquire if you would be willing to buy some,”

“Of course!” Engineer nodded. “I can do that...I ain’t too good with cameras but I can certainly help you set ‘em up...” he knew she was only going to use them to spy on the others, but he maintained his friendliness for the time being.

“Ah, good,” Helen have a curt nod. “I should also let you know that Saxton called: he will be here within a few hours for the signing,”

Engineer clapped his hands together. “Thank the lord! I mean, I’d rather have him in charge than, uh...” he glanced over his shoulder, making sure Olivia wasn’t around before turning back the Administrator. “A little girl,”

“Mm,” was Helen’s only reply, but it seemed like she agreed. “But there will be some changes to the company, you can be sure of that,”

“Yep,” Engineer glanced away, hands going to his pockets, before he took a breath. “Hey, uh...I meant to ask about Olivia: once the signing happens and Hale’s in charge again, what’s gonna happen to Olivia?”

The Administrator’s eyes darted up at Dell. “Why?”

“Because...” Engineer trailed off, sending something was wrong with what he just asked. Still, he continued. “Because she’s still just a kid. How old is she, anyway? I think it’s best if you send her to an orphanage or—“

Helen cut him off there. “She’s six years old, and she’s not going to an orphanage. Do not tell me what’s best, I know what’s best for her and I’m going to do it,” her tone had shifted considerably, and she seemed incredibly defensive all of the sudden.

Engineer started to feel some unease brewing within him, and he took a step back. “Okay, sorry...I was just wonderin....”

“Of course,” The Administrator turned on her heel, heading down the stairs. “And from now on, I ask that you respect my decisions during this time...”

This interaction stuck with Engineer as he got the bedrooms and bathrooms ready for everyone to use, and when he took a break an hour later to play cards and drink coffee with Spy and Demo, he knew he had to bring it up to them.

“And then she just left,” Dell finished, sipping at his mug. “I dunno...I mean, I have to say I know her pretty well compared to the rest of you fellas, my pa worked with her and my ma was friends with her, but she usually ain’t act that unless she’s got a secret...”

Demo shrugged, draining about half of his coffee mug. “She’s always been like that tae me...but I dunnae spend much time ‘round her, she always gave me the creeps,”

Spy hummed in agreement. “Yes...although that is rather interesting. I doubt she wants to protect Olivia from something, she’s never been motherly,” he pondered the thought. “I will have to look into it,”

Engineer sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I dunno...at any rate, I don’t want Olivia to stay here, I dunno about y’all. I feel bad for the kid, she lost her pa and all, but she’s too violent, too much like him...”

Spy made a face at the last statement. “Well, actually - I don’t believe she is,”

Demo snorted. “Aye, no? I mean, did ye see her go after Scout back there? Knife and all!”

“True, but consider,” Spy cleared his throat. “When we were in Gray Mann’s house this morning, I took a look around. You can tell very much about a man and his life just based on the house he lives, you see,”

Dell raised an eyebrow. “Where you goin’ with this?”

Spy went on. “I got a glimpse into Olivia’s room as well, just for a moment, and do you know what I noticed?”

“Huh?” Demo set his coffee mug down, the mug leaving a pale brown ring on the placemat beneath it.

“There were no toys,” he stated simply. “No dolls, no stuffed animals, nothing. Just books and manuals. She’s six years old - why wouldn’t a child that age have any toys?”

“Oh,” Engineer thought for a moment. “I mean, yeah, that’s kinda weird, but...does she behave the way she does just ‘cause she doesn’t have any toys?”

“It goes deeper than that,” Spy went on. “When I spoke to Olivia, the only thing she believes herself to be good at is making spreadsheets. Can you believe it? Spreadsheets!” He shook his head, his lips pursed together in frustration. “Based on these things, I don’t believe I’m incorrect in thinking that Gray Mann never actually wanted a child, he just wanted a carbon copy of himself. So he never gave her toys, he never let her play, and if my thinking is correct, he must have put her to work the moment she learned to talk...she’s never gotten a chance to be a child, and it’s harmed her significantly,”

Engineer let this sink in. “Wow...” he replied after a moment. “I never thought of it like that...damn that Gray Mann, for lettin’ someone else kill him before we could,”

Demo, however, was feeling more of an intense sympathy for Olivia. “It’s just not right!” He exclaimed, his brow furrowed. “Lil’ lass is just six...and that ol’ rat just took her and—!” He took a breath, holding himself back. He shook his head. “We gotta do somethin’...if she’s gonna be here a while, we gotta help her,”

“I’ve been trying to,” Spy confessed. “It will take a while to get her to trust us, but once she does I believe we can help her,”

“Yes!” Demo agreed, getting up. “Ye know what? I’m helpin’ Jane and Zhanna make a shelter out of the shed out back, maybe we can spend time with her after...”

“That’s a good idea,” Spy nodded. “But tread lightly, you don’t want to overwhelm her,”

Demo nodded, putting his used mug in the sink and heading out of the kitchen. “Of course! I’ll go get ‘em...”

[ninjakittenhaswords]

30-Day OTP Challenge: TheyDeservedBetterShipping Day 4

Day Four, First Date: Your OTP’s first date. Where’d they go? Did the date go well or go horribly?

(Day 3)

(In an AU where Koko exists in the show)

-

Today was the day and boy, saying he was nervous would be a very, very severe understatement for Montgomery Garmadon. Granted, he flirted with some very admirable women (and a few men, admittedly) before, but going to an actual safe with a admirable woman? Whew, you could see why the man was feeling the way he was.

“I can’t do this.” He argued with Wu for the fifth time. The younger brother shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Yes, you can, brother.” Wu replied once more as if it would finally convince Garm to calm down. Unfortunately, the man was still just as nervous as he was ever since she asked him out just a few days ago. Honestly Garmadon should be thankful that Wu helped him. The others already tried to help by giving Garm advice for the past few days, but that just made the brunet worry more about what he was going to do.

Garmadon was just about ready for his date. He can go through with this. He has to, otherwise he’ll just lose his chance of ever being with... her. She was already here. Her hair was down, styled to look wavy and with the sunset it looked so much like a fiery waterfall. She wore a green kimono contrasting the bright locks and her tan skin but it matched her emerald eyes so beautifully. She looked so much different than her warrior persona. So refined. So elegant. So beautiful. Was this even the same woman he saw slaughtering an army in the battlefield? “Hello, Garmadon.” She greeted him with that sweet voice which made him feel like putty in her hands. Yep, this was the same woman. “Hi, Kimiko.”

“Damn, Garm is lucky.” Acronix spoke underneath his breath. “If it weren’t for him, I’d probably-.” Krux interrupted him by putting his hand on his chin and pushing his mouth shut. And just in time for Garm to send a glare at him. His eyes showing a bright shade of red, contrasting against his normal dark brown. Wu placed a hand on his shoulder. “Brother, you have a date to attend to. Krux will take care of him.” Wu was right. Garmadon nodded. “Right. A date.” He sighed softly, trying to calm himself down for Kimiko. He didn’t want her to see his bad side. At least, not over stupid little quips. He looked back to her.

Oh, she looked so ethereal to him. Was he even sure she wasn’t a goddess from another realm? Her soft voice spoke to him. “Are you ready?” It caught him a little off guard. “Ready for what?” He suddenly felt stupid for asking. He was just talking about it for a long while and now he does this stupid little thing. He heard Wu groan lowly and saw the Master of Fire, Ray, facepalming before sliding his hand down to pinch the bridge of his nose. Suddenly though, the others around them didn’t matter. Not when he heard her giggle in a soft tone. “For our evening date. You ready?”

“Oh. Of course.” He smiled and nodded, lending his arm to her and letting her grab onto him. He blushed softly at that before getting pulled out of the monastery. He yelped and followed her out, stumbling on his feet before finally catching up to her side. He chuckled when she smiled at him. The others watched as the two left down the steps, waiting until they were out of hearing range. “Oh my god. He’s such an idiot.” Acronix spoke. Krux nodded, sighing softly. “I’ll agree on that.” There was a small amount of silence before someone decided to ask. “Wu, you sure you don’t want to spy on his date?” The younger Time Twin asked him. Wu shook his head, scoffing at him. “Oh leave him be. He deserves a moment of peace.”

“We are at war with the Serpentine, Wu.” Krux pointed out, sounding a little bitter. “And yet it’s quiet before the storm. If anything happens to them out there, those two can handle themselves. He knows better than to be off guard.” Wu explained. Krux rolled his eyes at him, grumbling something about carelessness and something else that not even his twin brother could hear. Master of Creation sighed at him and shook his head. He can only hope his brother would be alright out there.

Meanwhile, Garmadon and Kimiko were having a pleasant evening. Well, as pleasant as it could be after they climbed down those thousands of steps. Garmadon took note that next time they were taking the shortcut. He straightened himself up to look more presentable, trying not to look exhausted from the climb down. You’d think the oldest son of the First Spinjitzu Master would be used to this after all these years, but right now that’s not the case.

This evening was about her. His eyes looked over to the bright, beautiful warrior goddess beside him. He still wondered if she really was from this world. Actually he still wondered a lot of things about her. He knew better than anyone when someone is more than meets the eye. He was certain there was more to her than what he saw in the battlefield and their interactions in the monastery. He knew nothing of her when she was outside, away from those things, and into her personal life. Not that he was planning to stick his nose where it didn’t belong, but in all his honesty, he really did want to know more about her.

Well.. it was still going to be a long walk before they could get to the nearest village, so perhaps a few questions wouldn’t hurt. “So I was wondering-.” “What’s it li-?” They both stopped, seeing that they were interrupting one another. Garmadon chuckled. “It appears we both had the same idea.” Kimiko was embarrassed but she giggled too. “It seems we have.”

The awkward air lifted so easily from their silence. “Well, What I was trying to say was.. I was wondering about a few things... about you.” Garmadon looked down, feeling a little awkward about the wording. Why did it seem so hard to talk around her? He thought. She smiled at him and he couldn’t help but smile back at her. “Well, ask away.” Her voice sounded soft.

“First things first.. Um.. Where are we going?” He asked. “You were the one to ask me out. I naturally assume you have an idea on what we’d be doing.” She raised her eyebrows, nodding at that. “That is true. Even when I’m not in battle, I do have to plan ahead.” The orange-haired woman began. He hummed and smiled. “So yes. I do have a place in mind to go.”

“It’s just a simple trail to the nearest village and perhaps more. We can enjoy a peaceful night for once.” She looked onward while he just nodded and smiled, feeling a little nervous on the inside. “Yeah. For once.” A peaceful night... He honestly wished for one moment of peace, even with the venom trying to tempt his Oni side out of him in every way it can. By the name of his father, he hoped that she will never see that side of him. Not after- “Anyways, I still haven’t asked my question.” She interrupted his thoughts just in time. “Alright. So, what is your question?” He listened to her hum in thought and have a mild chuckle, finding that cute in her. “I know you may hear this very often, but what’s it like being the son of someone who’s practically a god?”

Honestly, he shouldn’t be surprised that she would ask that. Plenty of others have spoke the same question. Perhaps it was the way she worded it that caught him off guard. “Well, you’re right. You’re not the first person to ask me that.” He started. “So?” “Let me tell you, my brother and I don’t exactly have things handed to us on a silver platter as much as it’d surprise you.” She looked intrigued at that. “How so?” “Our kind of life is...” He paused, trying to think of the right word, “It’s complicated and that’s putting it simply.” Kimiko looked interested. “Really?” “Do I have to explain in detail?” He offered up in a funny accent, seemingly trying to lighten the mood.

It worked and she giggled softly at his tone. “No, you don’t have to.” He smiled to her. It seemed like it was going to be a wonderful night. Keyword here is seemed. He did manage to buy her a necklace. He wanted to give her something extravagant, but she preferred a simply infinite symbol necklace. Well, if it made her happy, then he’d go along with it. She smiled at the gift and he tried so hard not to melt over her grin, even if it was difficult not to.

The peaceful air was so comforting and delightful in the evening. It was eventually getting later and later. Most of the shops were closing up and people went home. Some of the men arrived outside with armor on, leaving their families in their homes. ‘Oh that’s right.’ Garmadon looked over to the woman next to him. ‘She had to help appoint the patrols while she went out.’ He figured. His eyes went back to her face. She was calm at the moment. He never would’ve guessed that she was a fierce warrior with such a serene face, but unfortunately the serenity ended all too soon.

The sound of running hooves hitting against the stone pathway got closer and closer before the dark maned mare was halted by the reigns. “Lady Kimiko! Lady Kimiko!” The scout dropped down from the equine. He pulled the straw hat back and kneeled to her. “I’m sorry to interrupt your pleasant evening, but you told us to come to you in case of an emergency and-.” He looked up to see the pair and caught the gaze of the brunet haired man next to Kimiko. He watched as those eyes flickered to a deep red and he swore he heard a deep rumbling growl come out of the seemingly human looking man. A shiver went down his spine and he was quick to turn his attention back to Lady Kimiko. “What is it you wish to report?” She spoke softly but sounded very much professional and stern at the same time.

Garmadon turned his attention back to the heavenly tone of her voice. He bit back a hiss of pain while he felt a throbbing headache in his temple. He had got agitated at someone who had interrupted the evening but he knew the scout was just doing his job. He had to calm down before she noticed something’s off. “There was a disturbance. Just hear me out. Someone or something attacked.” He began. The long haired woman hummed. “A serpentine?” “I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t see before a warrior came and defended me. He told me to go find you. He kept it at bay while I rode on his horse.” The armored mare beside him held up a banner with a kanji meaning dragon. Kimiko kept her gaze at the green banner before looking to Garmadon who was squatting down at the man’s level. “Could you lead us back to him?” The scout cowered at him for a moment before nodding. “I can, but I don’t know if he’s alright or not.” Garmadon huffed, “Then we have no time to waste.”

He looked up to Kimiko. “Climb on.” The redhead was confused at his words. “What?” “Well do you want to keep up with the horse or not?” He insisted. “Alright then.” Her answer was dragged out of her, but she agreed nonetheless, getting on his back. “Lead the way, scout.” The brunet gave a firm order to him. The scout looked to Kimiko for a sign of confirmation. She nodded at the scout. The man in the straw hat took note of her not and led them.

“You didn’t have to come along, you know.” The orange haired woman told him while riding on his back. It shouldn’t have surprised her to see this man be able to keep up with a warhorse, especially since she’s seen how powerful he was in battle. Perhaps it was because he looked human and that’s why it surprised her. His eyes went to her. “I couldn’t let you go alone.” He went with a simple answer. “That’s sweet but you know I can take care of things myself.” She huffed softly in response. “Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to separate on our first date.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “Oh? First? Are you implying that there’s going to be more?” He choked on air and felt himself heat up and also pale at the same time when he realized his word choice. “Maybe I am.” Those three words slipped out of him. She giggled at him and thought, ‘For someone so powerful, he seems so precious.’

The scout beside them cleared his throat, catching their attention just as the war equine slowed down. “It happened up ahead.” The scout told them and pointed ahead. “You’re not coming?” Garmadon asked him. “I... don’t have anything to defend myself with. That’s why I went to find you, Lady Kimiko.” The woman sighed as she got off Garm’s back while he made sure she got settled on her feet.

The half Oni’s gaze turned ahead when the stench of battle filled his nose and he had to withhold a low rumbling growl that wanted to escape his chest. “Garmadon?” Kimiko’s voice broke through and he calmed down. “Are you alright?” She gave a concerned tone. “Yeah.” He decides that he didn’t like hearing her worry. “I’m okay.”

“You ready?” She pulled out a small dagger from the inside of her kimono. “Definitely.” He nodded and followed her into the area before turning his head to her. “We’re you hiding that this entire time?” He questioned. “Don’t take it the wrong way. We’re still in the middle of a war.” She bit back at him. He gave her an “Uh-Huh. You owe me a second date.” She turned to look at him with a small smile and an even softer tone with a small bit of audacity in her voice. “Who says this ones over?” Garmadon have a grin and he swore he felt his Oni side get excited at her words.

Oh he could feel that they were going to become something so grand.

-

Headcanon #1: Garm is bi. In his younger days, he used to flirt with both women and men. He doesn’t judge.

Headcanon #2: Garm is ready to spoil his love with extravagant things but they tend to be happier with the simplier things.

(Day 5)

[lynnsfics]

Coffee Stained Confusion Ch 14

<Last Chapter                           First Chapter                               Next Chapter> ~~~

Walking into the tower’s training center, you took one look around the room and immediately died a little. The equipment was state of the art, and although you hadn’t expected anything less from the billionaire, it was still incredibly daunting. 

Natasha stood in the center of the room, looking right at home. ‘In some other life she probably could have done an extreme sport,’ you thought to yourself. The image of Black Widow competing on Wipeout popped into your head and you had to stifle a laugh. 

“Well, I‘m glad you two were able to make it to the gym so early,” she said sarcastically, then noticing the slight chocolate smear on your cheek she questioned, “leisurely morning?” 

You blushed and tried to get it, but kept missing it slightly. Without thinking Bucky wiped it off for you. Natasha raised her eyebrows at the gesture but said nothing. 

“So I looked into it and found out your college had a gym, how often did you use it?”

“Wait we had a gym?” 

“So I’ll take that as a ‘never’,” she replied with a smirk. “Your powers can do alot of things, and are great for battle, but if you’re ever in a situation where you can’t safely use them, you have to be able to fight your way out. Do you know how to fight?” “Well, I picked a few things up in some of my old foster homes,” you briefly made eye contact with Bucky before continuing, “considering most of them were secretly HYDRA operatives, you could say I didn’t always have the best experience.” 

“Alright, show me what you’ve got.” She motioned you to step forward, and you did. What you didn’t expect however, was for her to swing at you the moment you did. Dodging it at the last second, she looked at you and said, “Rule number one, always expect the enemy to fight dirty.”

“Especially when that enemy is an ex-Soviet spy trying to teach you how to fight,” Bucky said with a laugh. 

“Very funny Barnes,” she responded. As soon as the words left her mouth a punch was delivered right to your ribs. “Rule number two, don’t let anything, or anyone,” she glanced at Bucky, “distract you.”

Groaning in pain you cursed, “What the hell, did you two have that planned out?”

“Maybe,” Bucky responded with a laugh, “but at least now you’ve learned that lesson.”

“Now it’s time for the real training to begin,” Natasha stated matter-of-factly. You only sighed in response.

By the time your training session was over, you felt about ready to collapse. Bucky had to leave about halfway through and left you in the care of Nat, if care was what you wanted to call it. For some strange reason though, you were glad he wasn’t there to see how badly it went at the end. 

“Hey, take it easy on yourself. Not everyone is able to make it through even ten minutes of that training, let alone almost a whole hour.” 

“Maybe not everyone can, but all the Avengers can, and they can do it without almost dying in the process.” 

“Yes,” Natasha countered, “but we’ve all been trained, or some of us have, as Thor calls it, ‘natural talent.’ You, on the other hand, are a college student who hasn't worked out in what, almost two years? I can’t help but wonder if HYDRA gave you some of that ‘natural talent’ that Steve and Bucky have.” 

“Are you talking about superserum? No, I doubt that’s possible, I’d feel different, wouldn’t I?”

“Nobody knew Bucky was a super soldier until he fell from the train, not even himself. I think it’s worth considering the possibility, especially if they wanted you to be their new ‘soldat’.” 

You thought about it for a moment, not completely ruling out the possibility, but still not ready to accept it. “Well, you might be right, but I’m still not convinced.” “Only time will tell it seems. Now one thing that I am curious about is that little moment earlier.” 

“What moment?” Your mind reeled as you tried to recall everything that happened since you walked into the gym.

“Oh come on, that moment you had with Barnes earlier?” You blushed as the memory came back to you. “Oh, yeah, that. It was nothing, really.” “Oh, really?” Natasha asked incredulously. “In all my time knowing him, I’ve never seen him act so openly around anyone like he did just then. You two must have really hit it off.” “Well, I guess after everything we’ve been through together we became pretty good friends.” You looked over at the door as it swung open and Tony walked in.

“‘Friends’ is one word for it,” Natasha replied with a smirk. “Well, look who’s at the gym for once. Lose your way going to the garage?” She said with a laugh.

“Oh very funny, but some of us are able to fight without constantly working out Miss Trained Assassin. Hot head, you’re needed upstairs. There’s a potential lead Barnes needs to brief you about.” 

Natasha nodded at you as you left the room “Good job today, rookie.” 

Walking back towards the conference room your mind was a flurry of activity. What if Nat was right and you had been given super serum? Was it permanent? If it was, what would happen to your life? It clearly happened recently, if you had superhuman powers your whole life you would have noticed. Right? 

The door was ajar as you approached, and you heard whispered voices coming from the conference room. Holding your breath, you stayed close to the wall trying to overhear the conversation going on inside. 

“I know you think this could be planted information, Director Fury, which is why I think you should send some agents to scope it out first. She isn’t ready yet.”

“Sergeant Barnes, you yourself said that she excelled in her training today. My agents, although very good at retrieving information, cannot summon fire from their hands to protect themselves. If HYDRA detects a leak-”

“You think I don’t know the torture methods they’re capable of?” Bucky retorted, his tone threatening. “I know what they can do, and so do you. So if you think I’m going to let you send her back into harm’s way, when you have others who are fully capable of doing the job, you’re wrong.” “You are not in a position to tell me who I can ‘let’ do something.” Fury countered. “Do not let your emotions cloud your judgement. Having a schoolyard crush doesn’t give you the right to dictate missions to me. She is the best prepared for this, having known the target for a considerable length of time. If it would make you feel better, you can accompany her to the base. End of discussion.” 

The sound of advancing footsteps on the tile flooring scared you out of your spot, so you quietly tiptoed down the hall as fast as you could, then turned around to make it seem as though you were just arriving. As you re-entered the corridor leading to the conference room, Director Fury exited the room and started walking towards you. 

“Ah, Miss 'Phoenix’, just the person I wanted to see.” For a moment your blood ran cold as you wondered if he knew you listened in on the conversation. Your fears were eased, however, as he continued. “I was hoping that you would be the one to investigate the possible HYDRA facility Barnes mentioned earlier. I feel as though someone with your close history to the target would have an easier time apprehending her. Again.” 

“I don’t know if that makes me qualified enough for this assignment, sir.” Trying to sound oblivious to the conversation, you then added, “I don’t think that going alone would be the best option.”

“Sergeant Barnes would accompany you to this base. It’s a hub of HYDRA activity. I should warn you, however, some of my sources scouted the place from a far, and it could very well be a trap.” “Could I have some time to think it over? This doesn’t seem like a decision I should make lightly.” “Of course, just don’t speak about it with Barnes. Something tells me he isn’t exactly thrilled with the idea, and I don’t need him causing any additional problems for this mission.” “Yes, sir,” you nodded, hoping you would gain his trust.

He took a card out of his wallet and handed it to you. “When you reach a decision, give me a call.” You reached for the card but before you could grab it he pulled it back. “Do not give anyone else this card, I don’t give everyone my personal number.” He then extended his business card again and let you take it this time. As he turned and walked away, you started back on your path to the conference room. You had to talk to Bucky.

When you re-entered the conference room, you had to double check that you were in the right place. The room seemed much more spacious now that a dozen superheroes weren’t seated at the table in the center of the room. Natural light glinted off the glass tabletop, and modern art, most likely curated by Pepper Potts, hung from the walls. 

Bucky sat in an overstuffed armchair in the far corner of the room, staring at a painting, oblivious to you walking in. He looked conflicted, and your mind darted back to the argument you overheard. Just how much of it had you missed? 

You cleared your throat and he looked up. “Oh, hey doll. Sorry, I must not have heard you walk in. I was a bit lost in my thoughts,” he said with a smile. 

“I just talked with Director Fury,” you said, walking over and taking a seat on the armchair next to his. “He said that the mission might be a setup.”

“It very well might be, and that’s why it might be the wisest thing for you to go. You haven���t been training for that long, and if you got hurt or if they captured you again, I don’t know,” he trailed off and you couldn’t capture the end of his sentence. Still yet, you countered, “I have extraordinary powers, and I know Alicia better than any operative SHIELD has. I can’t let good people risk their lives in my place. I heard your, uh, conversation with Fury. I know you don’t think it’s wise, but it’s what I have to do.” “How did I know you would say that? Alright, fine, but if you do go, I’m going with you. No objections.” You smiled, “Deal.”

“And,” he continued, “you need to train with your powers first. I know that you know how to use them, but you need to practice some more. I don’t want you getting hurt. Deal?” “Alright, fine,” you sighed, “we have a deal.” You took out your phone and dialed the number Fury gave you. “Hello Director Fury, I’ve decided to accept the mission.” 

~~~

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@sydneyisnotawriter

I really do be adding more romantic subtext though :0 Like always, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Love you all <3

[rikudiora]

Unintentionally Seducing Emotionally Compromised Chameleons: Chapter 2

There were many things that Ilia disliked doing when she’d just woken up in the morning after having arrived to her current place of stay later than planned the day before. Trying to act friendly to the other people in the hideout, for example, was particularly straining on her newly sleep roused brain, so that was one of the first things she shucked out the window during mornings like this. Any greetings or questions she got were exclusively answered with noncommittal grunts as she dragged herself to the White Fang’s most shameful, yet simultaneously sacred relic;

The Schnee-tech industries XXL Turbo coffee maker(TM).

It was only after she had a cup of extra strong black coffee in her hands and she’d taken a few sips of it Ilia finally became able to interact with the rest of the world. Sadly, the first of these interactions would be one that she had dreaded in the back of her mind ever since she got back to base yesterday, and she knew that she couldn’t put it off anymore. Sighing, she threw her head back and swallowed the rest of her coffee in a series of loud gulps, the burning pain rising up in her throat helping to further wake her up. She’d never been a fan of the taste of coffee anyways, only really seeking out the caffeine, so she considered her intake of the liquid rather efficient, happily ignoring the horrified stares from the other White Fang members around her in the kitchen as she put her mug among the rest of the dishes and wandered off to the debriefing room.

Adam Taurus’ seemingly perpetually frowning face appeared on the viewscreen in front of Ilia the moment that she pushed the call button, and he didn’t waste so much as a second before interrogating her like she knew he would.

“You didn’t send any reports yesterday, Ilia,” Adam growled out slowly, his tone as bitingly cold as the featureless expanse of his mask. “I thought I’d made my orders very clear regarding your duties once arriving in Vale, but apparently not. You also chose to not answer any of our calls to your scroll either for some inexplicable reason. Care to explain yourself?”

Ilia winced internally at the venom in his voice, but the sooner she gave her side of the story, the sooner she could get out of here, scolded or not. It helped that she’d somewhat prepared what to say regarding her whereabouts.

“Sir, yesterday’s journey did not go entirely as planned, sadly, and I apologize for my absence. I was attacked by a pair of human scum and dealing with the situation brought unforeseen… consequences, that kept me occupied for far longer than I had anticipated,” Ilia replied carefully, bowing her head. She was doing her best not to lie directly to Adam, merely leaving out certain details that she wasn’t too keen on sharing right about now.

Not while she still felt all tingly with strange emotions from the past day’s events.

Adam regarded her silently, seemingly considering her words, for a moment that went on for longer than Ilia would have liked. Now more than ever, she could recognize how rash or outright stupid her actions could be seen as, even if, to her, they’d felt entirely natural. Something told her that her fellow Fang members wouldn’t exactly agree with her, however, and she felt immense relief when Adam decided to move on from the subject.

“No matter. I can accept your excuses this time, but only if ensure it doesn’t happen again. You’re a valued part of the Fang, Ilia, but that doesn’t make you exempt from being punished for further insubordination,” he said, arms crossing in front of his chest.

Ilia simply nodded in understanding, letting out a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding, before giving her only slightly altered report in full. She regaled him dutifully with all the information she’d been able to gather from people in the city, mundane as most of it was, and only left out one particular individual from her recollection of the previous day’s events. ‘Human interference’ and cleanup of evidence were believable enough ‘complications’ for Adam to instead focus on her new mission briefing. It did not take long for Ilia to zone out during the explanation, however, only paying enough attention to Adam to answer yes or no when needed and to make sure she had at least a passing understanding of what she was meant to do during the coming weeks.

“Humans bad, Faunus good, oppression and suffering, they live in a society, it was time for them to rise up.”

It wasn’t that Ilia didn’t agree with his ideals or opinions about humanity—with the exception of maybe one certain human—but she’d gotten a bit tired of hearing what essentially boiled down to the same speech every single freaking time she got a new assignment. If the White Fang were ever going to be successful as bringers of justice for Faunus everywhere, Adam really needed someone to write some new scripts for him to regale the masses with or risk causing alarming outbreaks of narcolepsy all across the world.

Instead, Ilia found herself thinking back to how Jaune had ‘saved’ her for what had to be the thousandth time since the event itself had taken place. She could still feel the slight spark that had happened when their hands had brushed against one another’s when he’d given her her bag, the memory giving her goosebumps all along her arms. She found herself wishing she could feel it again—feel him again—and for longer than just a split second this time. She envied the orange haired girl he was apparently on a team with, since she seemed to have an all access pass to hugging on clinging to Jaune whenever she wanted.

Though it wasn’t like Jaune was the only target of said girl’s rather enthusiastic affections…

Ilia’s attention was only brought back to the Adam’s visage on the viewscreen when she caught his explanation winding down, and she let out a resounding “Sir, understood, sir!” in response to his questioning look.

“Good. I expect you to not make the same mistake of delivering your report late again, or you will find yourself replaced on this operation.”

With that, Adam cut the video feed, and Ilia finally let herself relax slightly, some tension flowing form her shoulders as her body sagged. As one of her hands ran through her hair, she brought up her scroll for her actual mission details with the other—yet another reason why she didn’t feel too bad about not paying much attention to her superior when he started repeating his speeches again. These calls were essentially just a formality, or so Ilia thought, but she knew that complaining about it wouldn’t do her any good. Adam was her boss for the time being, and he wasn’t exactly the most even tempered Faunus she’d ever had the pleasure of knowing, which was probably one of the reasons why breaking up with him had made it easier for Bla-!

With a clench of her fist, Ilia quickly stomped that thought down on instinct, feeling that pit from the day before slowly starting to crack open. In her head, the picture of the citrine eyed ravenette started to appear, but then, suddenly, it stopped. Instead, there was only the ugly scribbled image from the day before, and almost immediately after another thought took its place;

With her conversation with Adam over, she was now free to go back to him…

Ilia promptly spun on her heel and all but ran towards the base’s exit, picking up a breakfast bar on the way and scarfing it down mid-jog. She had almost made it halfway when she suddenly remembered an idea that she’d had as the sun had started to set the previous afternoon, skidding to a halt in front of the large storage area where all their equipment was contained. She was skilled when it came to tracking and spying on people, but it never hurt to be more prepared…

XXX

Head requisition officer Striga only gave Ilia a deadpan look as she read through the list of items that the chameleon Faunus wanted to withdraw from their arms and armor stockpile for a second time. When she looked up from the piece of paper, trying to determine if this was some kind of prank or not, all she was met by was Ilia’s smiling, hopeful looking face.

Despite being just a few years away from becoming an adult, she looked remarkably like a little kid right about now, one who had just given their Christmas list to their parents and was eagerly waiting for some kind of response.

As oddly sweet as it may have been, however, Striga knew she couldn’t just hand out gear without proper cause. Especially not when the ‘requisition order’ contained such oddly specific items.

“So… you’re going on a scouting and reconnaissance mission, yeah?”

Ilia immediately nodded.

“And you want me to check out one of our XV25 Stealth-suits for you? Along with a scent marker kit? For a scout mission?”

Again, Ilia instantly nodded, albeit slower this time.

For a moment, Striga simply had to lean back in her chair and clasp her hands together in front of her mouth, processing the information before her along with the sheer audacity of Ilia’s requests. It wasn’t every day she had someone come to her asking to take their top-of-the-line equipment for something that was almost akin to sightseeing. There were even more items listed on the paper in her hand, a diverse mix that went from outrageous to mundane and back again, but she could not for the life of her imagine how Ilia might ‘realistically’ need most of this gear.

“I have been given this assignment directly from captain Taurus himself and have been given permission to requisition any and all equipment I may need,” Ilia said after another second of silence, her posture suddenly ramrod straight.

“Uh huh,” Striga replied, not particularly convinced. “Pray tell, what are you planning on using these...” she glanced down at the list again, “Blacksun filtration goggles for exactly?”

“Nighttime reconnaissance over long distances. I need to be able to make out all the details of whome- whatever I am scouting out, ma'am.” The practiced and obviously deliberate neutrality of Ilia’s voice didn’t go unnoticed by the officer. “I’d, uh, also like to make sure the model of goggles can minimize window glare,” she added with an awkward cough, now sounding much more honest.

“Kid, these things will let you see the specks of dust floating around on that cracked moon of ours. They can handle a few panes of glass, don’t you worry. Especially not considering I can’t just give a pair of them out without really damn good reason. Sorry to say, kid, but your job doesn’t qualify.”

A flash of irritation moved across Ilia’s features, and for a short second the requisition officer wondered if something bad was about to go down, but as swiftly as the emotion had appeared, it went away, and Ilia’s face instead became one of resignation.

“Alright, fine,” she huffed, leaning over the officer’s desk, their gazes locked. “Look, either I walk back to the briefing room and call captain Taurus just to get a confirmation message for you, which is exactly the kind of interruption that he absolutely loves to deal with, or you give me what I’ve asked for and we can both get back to doing something more productive. If I’m lying, then I’ll be the one in hot water for falsifying a requisition order, not you. You’d just be doing your job.”

Despite her suspicions, Ilia’s words were enough to make Striga take a pause to think for a second. She didn’t entirely believe Ilia’s claim about having permission from Adam, but she didn’t put it past the higher ups within the Fang to give an operative like Ilia her own, secret mission, along with whatever she needed to carry it out either. Refusing to give equipment to someone working directly for their somewhat temperamental captain, if it turned out that Ilia was actually telling the truth, would definitely bite her in the ass one way or another, so the kid definitely had a point.

‘All this inter-organization politics stuff is why I’ll never accept that promotion they want to give me...’ she thought to herself.

Despite knowing there was still a decent chance she’d regret this, Striga ultimately decided that she could pull enough strings to make sure Ilia got all the blame for whatever stunt she might be trying, and took out a scroll from the one of her pockets, fingers moving to fill out forms with downright professional efficiency.

“I don’t get paid enough to deal with this crap...” she muttered mostly to herself before presenting her scroll to Ilia. “Press your hand to the screen to confirm your requisition order then wait here while I get your equipment for you.”

As soon as Ilia had done as instructed, Striga snatched back both her scroll and the list she’d been given and entered the storage area. Had she chosen to turn around at any point, she’d have caught a certain chameleon Faunus fist-pumping wildly with the expression of someone who’d just pulled off a big heist on her freckled face.

Lucky for Ilia, Striga didn’t, and only a bit later than she’d originally planned, she was finally off to begin her ‘special’ assignment;

Operation find a way to meet Jaune Arc again was a go!

XXX

Hitting Pyrrha’s shield felt like he was trying to cut down the very tower they stood on with a butter knife, and Jaune felt the muscles in his arm groaning from the shock that went through them. Again, he tried to find a way to reach the girl behind the bronze shield, and again his sword was easily swatted aside, only for her own blade to smack against his unarmored side. She might have refrained from using the cutting edge due to their shared lack of protection, but the hit still made him let out a hiss of pain and take a staggering step back.

He felt so slow and sluggish compared to her, like he was trying to fight while submerged neck deep in syrup, and no matter how much the rational side of his brain reminded him that she had more fighting experience in her left toe than he had in his whole body, he couldn’t help but get increasingly frustrated.

When he’d fought that bastard in that alleyway, he’d been unstoppable, at least while his aura had been active, but against Pyrrha, he was nothing more than a light nuisance, a fact supported by the rivers of sweat that ran from his body that were nowhere to be found on her own, or the heaving of his chest as he greedily tried to fill his lungs with as much air as they could handle.

He was already exhausted, all the while she hadn’t even gotten a light workout.

As Jaune continued to stagger backwards, he soon felt his back bump against one of the walls beside the door leading to the balcony they were training on, and the feeling of a red-hot knife shot up his spine, his knees crumbling beneath him. He managed to throw his arms out to catch himself before his face slammed against the stone floor, but it was a small comfort when the whole of his back felt like it had been brutalized by a sledgehammer. That kick he’d taken from the lady the day before had evidently wreaked havoc on his nerves, and when Jaune managed to gather the strength to lift his head, he caught Pyrrha looking down at him with concern written everywhere on her features.

“Maybe we should call it a day, Jaune? I think your injuries still need some time to fully heal,” she said in what Jaune assumed was supposed to be a supportive tone, but he couldn’t help but hear as condescending.

“I’m fine,” he bit back, cursing himself inwardly at the flash of hurt that Pyrrha didn’t manage to hide. “Sorry,” he quickly added, somberly. “I didn’t- you’re not- ugh...” A sigh escaped him as shame crept into his stomach. “I’m just… sorry.”

It wasn’t Pyrrha he was angry at and she didn’t deserve him taking it out on her, not when she was spending so much time helping him despite how big of a fraud he was.

Giving up the struggle against his legs, Jaune let himself collapse against the wall, Crocea Mors slipping from his sweat slickened grip with a clattering of steel on stone. A bead of perspiration ran down his creased brow, finding its way into his eye, and he wiped it away with the back of his now free hand, sweeping back his matted hair in the process. His body ached all over, and it wasn’t just from the day before.

When Pyrrha settled down next time him, Jaune simply let out a deep sigh of disappointment and frustration at how little he fit in with people like her, Ren, Nora, or any of the girls in team RWBY. He felt more certain than ever regarding what he wanted to do after dealing with people like Cardin and the racist couple, but at the same time, his fake transcripts plan was only looking more and more rash and downright stupid.

His attention was pulled to Pyrrha when he felt her hand gingerly brush across his cheek, checking on one of his many bruises. Their eyes met, and Jaune had to ask himself just how he’d managed to get someone as amazing as her as his partner for what had to be the hundredth time. Despite having every right to tell on him to the headmaster, getting him kicked out and letting her get a proper partner instead, she was sitting here with him, helping him.

“I really don’t deserve you, you know. The training, the secret-keeping, everything really… I shouldn’t be here, dragging you and everyone else down with me,” he chuckled dryly, entirely humorlessly, before looking away just as Pyrrha did the same, her cheeks far rosier than before.

“You’re being too harsh on yourself, Jaune. There aren’t a lot of people out there in the world who’d willingly risk their lives like you have done by coming here just because they feel like they need to do something for mankind. It’s true your skills aren’t exactly on par with everyone else’s, but we’ve only just started. You’re growing faster than most.” She nudged his shoulder with her own as her expression turned contemplative for a second before her eyes lit up. “And don’t forget, if you had never come here to Beacon, you would never have been in Vale and therefore able to save that Faunus girl from those humans. If it weren’t for you, she could have gotten seriously hurt, maybe even worse.”

Jaune let Pyrrha’s words hang in the air between them for a moment, a part of him half tempted to brush them off, but then he remember the look in Ilia’s eyes when he’d handed her her bag, and a new sense of purpose found itself breaking free from the gloomy expanse of his thoughts.

Despite his back still stinging, a small smile quirked across Jaune’s lips as he let the cool stone of the wall behind them seep into his muscles, relaxing them. The fire of determination in his gut had been lit anew after being temporarily doused by his lack of skill compared to Pyrrha, and his fingers found themselves coiling around the grip of Crocea Mors again.

“Ozpin is far wiser than either of us put together and he wouldn’t have picked you to be our leader if he didn’t think you were the best person for the job,” Pyrrha added as she hoisted herself off the ground, extending her hand to him.

With a deep breath, Jaune intertwined their fingers and, with Pyrrha’s help, got back onto his feet with only a slight grimace of pain. “Thanks,” he said honestly. “For everything. You’re the best partner anyone could ever imagine, and I’m gonna make sure not to let you down.”

He was under no delusions regarding just how far he still had to go to catch up to anyone else at Beacon, but he could also feel that the only way he could truly fail in the eyes of his partner and teammates was if he gave up now. To showcase his new conviction, he tried to get into the ready-stance that Pyrrha had taught him, but the weight of the sword and shield in his hands was too much at this point, and all he managed to do was flail his arms with a tired grunt.

“I think that’s your body’s way of telling you that we should try this again tomorrow instead,” Pyrrha giggled from the other side of the balcony. As much as it irked his pride to admit it, Jaune had to agree, collapsing Crocea Mors into its sheathed form.

Feeling even more sweat soak into his hoodie, he decided to simply tug it off entirely, leaving him in just a thin, previously white tank top that clung to his chest. He just barely caught Pyrrha’s exclaimed “Head’s up!” before a bottle of water landed in his reflexively raised hand.

“Appreciate it,” he mumbled absentmindedly as he regarded the bottle, eventually electing to take a single deep swig from it and then dump the rest of the liquid contents atop his head.

In the very same moment, the feeling of being intently watched started scratching at the back of Jaune’s mind, and he looked around at the windows of the towers around them. He definitely hoped that no one had watched his rather poor excuse for swordplay aside from Pyrrha, and despite the coast seemingly being clear, the feeling didn’t go away.

“Hey Pyr, you didn’t catch anyone watching us train, did you?” he asked over his shoulder, still looking at the surrounding towers for any sight of a spying presence.

Pyrrha—who unbeknownst to Jaune had been spending the last minute or so ogling the way his now all but transparent shirt outlined his torso—shook herself free of her thoughts long enough to let out a stammered “N-no!” before focusing her gaze on the very interesting way her feet were fidgeting, praying to all known and unknown deities throughout the history of Remnant that Jaune didn’t notice her very fierce blush.

Despite what Pyrrha said, however, Jaune still couldn’t help but think something was up. The feeling was only further solidified when he noticed a weird flickering near the top of one of the opposing towers, like there was something distorting the air...

Ultimately, he decided he was simply being paranoid, trusting the attentiveness of his partner even if he wasn’t sure what his own eyes saw. Instead, he moved to pull on his hoodie again, only to remember his previous cooling-off-measures and how uncomfortable it’d be to put on something over his currently wet clothes.

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit. Try to relax and stretch while waiting for this thing to dry,” Jaune said as he turned to face Pyrrha, tugging on the front of his tank top.

“G-got it. I’ll see you later then,” Pyrrha replied before quickly gathering up her gear and heading inside, forcing herself to keep her head and eyes looking straight ahead when she heard Jaune grunting. She was in no state of mind to stay and watch him go through the stretching routine she’d showed him, no matter how tempting the images her mind conjured up were.

Instinctively, she reached up and felt her nose, just to ensure that there wasn’t blood running from it, her cheeks practically matching her as she finally left Jaune to himself.

XXX

After having spent the latter half of the previous day making her way around Beacon unnoticed, Ilia had had a lot more time to actually think about her actions as made her way around the school, now knowing the routes she should take to avoid detection. The weight and gravity of the measures she’d taken were settling in, how much time and effort she was spending simply to keep tabs on what amounted to just another human hunter-in-training. At one point, as she scaled the sheer wall of one of the towers, she went so far as to wonder if she was going a bit crazy.

But then, right as the thought hit, she’d glanced to look behind her where, on the other side of a window, she saw the one human who’d ever been nice to her, and her whole stomach lit up with that inexplicable warmth, wiping away any questions.

Jaune Arc absolutely needed to be watched because she simply couldn’t get enough of the feelings that watching him brought up from deep inside her.

Deep down, Ilia knew that what she was doing was irrational, but she’d been so emotionally burned out these past couple of weeks that she simply couldn’t care. Somehow, Jaune made her feel nice things, and recently that had become a scarcity for her, so she had become deadset on savoring it now that she had the chance. Just like the day before, after he’d helped her, seeing Jaune smile or laugh made butterflies flutter throughout Ilia’s stomach, accompanied with a longing to be the one said smiles and laughter was directed at rather than his teammates or friends.

Just remembering the scene she’d stumbled on was enough to make Ilia frown, her eyes flicking down to her scroll on which she’d recorded numerous notes regarding the people that Jaune had surrounded himself with. Most of which pertained to the females of his circle of friends (a collection of people that Ilia absolutely refused to think of as ‘competition’, the word all but banished from her word catalog, much to the delight of her chaos-feeding mind gremlin).

Chief interest among them was one Weiss Schnee, an individual who Ilia had already harbored many negative feelings towards due to her obvious familial relations, but had recently made her way to the very top of the Faunus’ rather short but important ‘people-who-deserve-several-swift-kicks-in-the-bloody-shins’ list (patent pending).

For some ungodly reason, the pompous heiress had somehow earned Jaune’s attention in ways that did not at all make Ilia feel pangs of jealousy (no sir!), and instead of cherishing every minute she could spend with him around, the special snowflake of a Schnee instead told him off at seemingly every given opportunity.

The dejected looks that Ilia had seen on Jaune’s face after he’d spent any time talking to Weiss were almost enough for her to want to blow her cover, and it was only the knowledge that Adam had very special plans—violent plans—in mind for every member of the Schnee family after the Faunus uprising had officially begun that made her restrain her fury.

Why exactly Jaune thought that the Schnee heiress was worthy of his time, Ilia had yet to understand, but her preliminary findings were still plausible enough to conduct further experiments.

“Jaune Arc attention grabbers(?): Long hair. Short?

Family history of Faunus exploitation???

Skirts.

Riches?

Lack of development???”

Rereading her list, Ilia looked down at herself, considering her own assets, or lack thereof, for a moment before she had a sobering thought.

‘Never imagined I’d be so relieved to be a B-cup… also, I need to get a skirt...’

As the afternoon sun began to shine its rays over the impressive structures that made up Beacon academy, Ilia felt a twinge of disappointment well up inside of her that she’d have to leave the school to conduct the actual reconnaissance that she’d been tasked with, but then, just as she’d started to prepare her exit strategy, the sound of a door opening reached her ears, and as she turned her eyes to check whether she needed to hide or not, a very familiar head of blonde hair stepped into view.

Ilia watched with rapt attention has Jaune and his partner, the world renowned Pyrrha Nikos, walked out onto a balcony of which she had a perfect view of. What they spoke of, she couldn’t make out, but before long they got into positions that she immediately recognized as sparring stances. Why they weren’t training in one of the academy’s facilities, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth either. Not when said horse took the shape of being allowed to watch Jaune in action again.

For the next two hours, Ilia sat fixated at the simultaneously enrapturing and vexing display that was Jaune Arc sparring with Pyrrha Nikos, her hands clenching whenever Jaune stumbled or made a poor move. Even from her vantage point, Ilia could easily tell that he wasn’t acting with the practiced ease that a student at Beacon should be, that he lacked the coordination that she’d consider crucial for someone training to fight Grimm, and he struggled far more than he aught to be against someone who clearly wasn’t putting their all into their fight.

It was confusing, to say the least, and only made more so by the fact that Ilia could tell there was something else going on beneath all the mistakes. She was a person who knew how to fight, far better than most in fact, and as such, seeing Jaune keep getting up after his mistakes were punished with surgical precision by his partner, especially considering the beating she’d watched him receive the day before, baffled her. What the boy lacked in skill, he almost entirely made up with endurance the likes of which would put fully trained and hardened White Fang members to shame, and every time he fell, Ilia could feel that he’d learned something from it. Anyone else that she knew of would have simply stayed down after the third or fourth defeat, but not him. She’d lost count of how many times he’d been brought down only to rise up straight away.

As Jaune finally sank to the ground and stayed there, Ilia felt as if she’d seen something impossible. There were hundreds of questions buzzing around in her head, but before she could find any answers to them, something else caught her attention.

Something that she recognized, even if she didn’t want to.

Whenever Pyrrha Nikos looked at her partner, there was an unmissable veil of longing shining from her expression, and despite her best efforts, it didn’t quite go away when Jaune looked at her. Whether he had noticed and was ignoring it willfully or if he was somehow unaware, Ilia had no idea, but one thing was very, very obvious to her;

Pyrrha Nikos had feelings for Jaune Arc.

And the reason Ilia could tell was because she had seen that very same expression on her own features whenever she’d looked in a mirror after being around Blake Belladonna...

By now, it had almost been a full day since the ebon-haired Faunus had entered Ilia’s thoughts, something she hadn’t even truly noticed with everything that had happened with Jaune, but her return made a feeling almost akin to retching rise up Ilia’s spine, her hands curling into fists and jaw tightening until her teeth started to hurt. All of it was unwelcome, unneeded, but despite closing her eyes and doing her best to clear her head, the feelings and thoughts remained.

Anger erupted within Ilia’s chest as her attempts at finding equilibrium failed, washing her emotional plate clear for a moment. It was the unfairness of it all that she found herself focused on, how Blake had been allowed to simply leave without any signs of distress—like she hadn’t ever cared—while Ilia was left with all these untethered and blood-raw emotions.

It simply wasn’t fair.

Nothing in her life was, she was slowly coming to realize, and she hated it.

She had to wonder if the foul taste of betrayal would ever wash out of her mouth.

As these thoughts threatened to forever blacken Ilia’s heart, she glimpsed down at the balcony again just in time to see Jaune getting up off the ground, his posture changed from just a minute earlier. He stood straighter, with more purpose, and for whatever reason, the sight begun to resonate like a struck cord within Ilia’s turmoil filled heart.

Again and again, she’d watched him fall, but he didn’t let himself be kept down. He didn’t give up, despite the clear gap in skill there was between him and his partner. To Ilia, it felt downright inspirational. She was instantly reminded of how he’d looked the day before; bloodied but unbroken, with that smile that was more genuine than anything she’d seen before.

If Jaune could get back up again after getting beat down, so could she, Ilia realized. She unfortunately didn’t know him well enough to understand all his own thoughts and emotions, but something deep in her heart told her that he wouldn’t want Blake to control her like this, no matter how deep of a wound she had caused when she’d left.

All of a sudden, Ilia felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her back, like her breathing was now easier and her eyes had become clearer. Something had clicked again, and the chains that had kept her from moving forward from Blake had been shattered in an instant.

She felt free.

And all from witnessing the resolve of a human who had risked his own safety to for her sake.

What had once been a massive, impossibly realistic, and exquisitely radiant painting of a young man with golden-blonde hair and eyes the color of deepest of oceans inside of Ilia’s mindscape was at once transformed. No longer was the shirtless stud contained within canvas and frame; instead, there now stood a statue so grand and impressive that it would have had people come from far and wide to leave gifts and offerings to what had to be a deity of masculinity and glory were it to actually exist in real life. Perfectly cut marble, the likes of which not even the greatest artisan on Remnant could have chiseled, gleamed and glinted in the shine of a heavenly light from on high, every single breathtakingly beautiful detail from the painting made three dimensional. Warmth, safety, hope, inspiration, all were exuded from the statue.

It was a dream that was too good to be true, but at the same time, to Ilia felt entirely accurate when it faded away, melting into the image of Jaune Arc looking down at a water bottle in his hand.

It was then that time caught up to the chameleonic Faunus, and she realized fully what she was looking at. For once, there was no fantasy playing out before her mind’s eye, she was actually looking at Jaune, in the flesh, with his big hoodie on the balcony beside him. In a flash, Ilia had a pair of binoculars in her hands, focusing intently on the incredibly distracting way that Jaune’s arms shifted and moved minutely with every breath he took. A light sheen covered his exposed skin, and it only helped to accentuate the muscles she could clearly tell were being grown throughout his body. There was strength within those arms, the kind that had always existed but never been truly used until very recently, and Ilia observed them carefully as they worked to bring the bottle of water to their owner’s lips.

What happened next all but caused Ilia’s heart to skip and entire minute’s worth of beats, all the while her brain simultaneously fried itself like a server farm being hit by a firehose.

What had just been a clingy, damp tank top only a second earlier suddenly turned almost entirely transparent when Jaune decided to empty a water bottle atop his head, drenching his entire upper body and making Ilia catch herself on the tower she was sat atop lest she fall right off it. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d seen a half-nude man before, the relatively small size of the White Fang hideouts she’d all but grown up in hadn’t exactly had privacy or modesty as a chief concern, but something about seeing Jaune in such a state, and not just in her head for once, was so very different.

Never had she appreciated how wide a boy’s shoulders were before, nor how solidly built their chests could be, or simply how big they often got compared to her, but she most definitely was now. Unlike the imagine that her subconscious had conjured up for her, Jaune’s entire body wasn’t made up entirely of rippling muscles the likes of which could crush stones between them, but in a way, the real thing made her stomach tingle far more. This wasn’t the body of a seasoned warrior, instead it was a firm foundation from which said warrior could be forged like a sword by a master blacksmith. And Ilia liked the look of it. Liked the look of him.

A lot.

So much so that Ilia only had a fraction of a second to duck down when he realized that Jaune was looking right at her hiding spot, her eyes wide and hands clamped over her mouth to contain the squeak that hap almost escaped her lungs. For a full minute, she just laid on her back, hardly breathing, as what she had seen replayed itself over and over again in her head. Had she looked down at herself, she would have seen the spots covering her dusty brown complexion practically glowing a hot reddish-pink, but she remained entirely frozen, vehemently ignoring the small trickle of drool that had begun to dribble down her cheek sometime ago.

Once the shock had mostly faded, she very slowly rose up into a sitting position, eyes just glancing for the briefest of seconds down to where Jaune was now stretching before her head snapped around and she focused on the sky in the opposite direction.

‘Holy shit...’ she thought as her hands finally moved away form her mouth and down to her stomach where she felt a completely foreign throb shoot through her, the temperature all around her feeling as if it had risen by several hundreds of degrees. The little gremlin in her mind whispered in her ear about how she should look back down again, make sure that Jaune was still there, but she couldn’t risk being caught like that again. Not when seeing Jaune in this state did so many strange things to her.

Ilia wasn’t entirely sure how long she spent sitting and looking anywhere that wasn’t in Jaune’s direction, but when she finally heard the distinct sound of a door being shut, she chanced a glance over her shoulder and was both relieved and disappointed to see that Jaune had returned inside. As strange as he was making her feel, deep down, it all felt good in a way, and losing ‘access’ to it was less than fun.

With a groan, she stretched her back out until she felt a satisfying pop and rose onto her sore legs. She hadn’t noticed just how rigid her whole body had become after sitting still for hours, but now she regretted not getting up sooner. She couldn’t exactly go back and change her actions though, so now she had to live with the consequences.

It was getting fairly late, and Ilia knew it was time for her to get back to her actual mission now that Jaune had finished his training and the chances of her spotting him again were pretty slim. Doing a final stretch to limber up her arms, she began to descend from her ‘perch’, making sure to follow the same route she’d taken when climbing up. For such a prestigious academy, she was kind of surprised at how easy it was to bypass the alarms and guards, but she figured it was an ego thing. With some many hunters and combat-ready students, the headmaster probably thought they didn’t need the kind of security that might have made her job difficult. Not that she was complaining though. Lax security meant she was able to focus more of her attentions on more important subjects rather than making sure no one spotted her.

A small shiver tip-toed up Ilia spine as she remembered how broad and strong Jaune’s shoulders had looked when he’d taken of his hoodie.

‘Man… I wonder how it would feel to wrap your legs around those…?’ she pondered for a split second, before immediately pushing the idea out of her head when she almost slipped out of one of her footholds. ‘No! None of that! Not now! But maybe later… when you’re back at base… and alone...’ Unknowingly, Ilia’s teeth latched onto her bottom lip at the prospect, her markings once again a radiant hue of red.

At this point, she wasn’t sure what she was doing anymore, or where her actions were taking her, and at some level that should have worried her, she knew that, but it just… didn’t. Not really. Not when she could simply imagine the smile of her ‘savior’ and be filled with a sense of comfort.

Nevertheless, one thing Ilia knew for certain was that she was going clothes shopping whenever she got a chance.

‘Need to buy a skirt… and maybe put my ponytail on the side...’

AN: Now comes the tricky part; where do we go from here? First off, I'd really like to know if you guys enjoy the level of humor that has been on display in these two chapters so far. When I originally thought up this idea, it was a lot more... crack-y, if that makes sense, but I am rather new to writing funny shit, so I abandoned that route since I couldn't get the timing right, I felt. The result is a mix of some "serious" moments and then jokes, mostly at Ilia's expense, but if you guys think I should lean into either side more, I'd very much like to hear your opinions.

Secondly, seeing as I haven't got a roadmap for this story yet, I'd love to hear any and all suggestions for scenes that might make it into future chapters (with the exception of Blake and Ilia confrontations, since that moment I do have planned fully already), and what kind of direction you think would make for the more enjoyable story; a complete romantic comedy, or something with a bit more meat to it?

Please leave your ideas and thoughts in the notes/reblogs, or send me a PM. Have a good one!

[thetriggeredhappy]

How about the team agreeing to play baseball with Scout for his birthday? Because they always admired how happy and free he looks when he's running. (SniperScout in between if possible would be great)

pushed up in the requests backlog for reasons. team bonding fic is best fic

(warnings for alcohol mention and passing non-graphic cartoonish violence)

-

“The hell is he so excited about?” Demo asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing over his shoulder towards where Scout was laughing his way down the hall.

“No idea,” the Engineer said, shuffling the deck neatly. “Been all high-energy high-spirits the whole damn day.”

“Unfortunately,” Medic agreed, a little bitter. That garnered several more raised eyebrows from around the table.

“Twice in one day Doktor has to fix broken leg in fighting,” Heavy explained, placing a placating hand on Medic’s shoulder. “And Scout takes many bad risks. Overconfident.”

A questioning noise from within Pyro’s suit. “I’d sure like to know why, as well,” Engie nodded. “Tryin’ out some new energy drink, maybe?”

“High spirits and hubris from consistent victory?” Soldier suggested.

“You’re joking,” Sniper suddenly cut in, glancing around the table, who all looked right back, surprised to hear him cutting in on the usual gossip. “...You lot really didn’t remember?”

A snort from Spy, a vague shrug from the rest of the table.

“It’s his birthday tomorrow.”

A pause, then noises of surprise, shock, and from some of the table, alarm. “A repeat of last year, how very unfortunate,” Spy hummed, taking a sip of his drink.

Pyro shouted something with no small amount of conviction that might have been along the lines of “this is terrible!”. Demo seemed to agree, from the shock on his face, the widening of his eye.

“Oh no,” Heavy rumbled, looking legitimately worried. Medic’s eyebrows were furrowed.

“I can’t believe you,” Sniper deadpanned, glaring at all the other mercenaries sitting there. “First year, you don’t bother wishing him a happy birthday. Second year, he plans a whole damn party for himself so you lot wouldn’t forget again and half of you don’t plan ahead and we get scheduled out on a mission and leave the bugger all alone all weekend. And you promise you won’t forget again. And one year later, here we are.”

Pyro appeared to be in a state of panic, pacing at high speed behind their chair, tugging at various points of their suit in high agitation. The Engineer’s face was largely hidden behind the hardhat and goggles and the hand clamped over the bottom part of his face.

“Perhaps he won’t be upset,” Medic suggested. “We all simply wish him a happy birthday and have drinks.”

“We do that every other weekend,” Demo pointed out. Soldier murmured in the affirmative.

“Sniper has remembered,” Heavy noted, looking at the man in question. “Maybe team helps with plans?”

“I already got him a gift,” Sniper mumbled, fidgeting with his hat. “But I don’t think we’ll manage to pass it off as from the whole team.”

“He’s gonna be so disappointed if he finds out that we forgot again,” Engie sighed, head in his hands. “It’ll break his damn heart.”

“So once again, it seems that I’ll need to step in and save you all,” Spy drawled, putting his glass down and reaching into his jacket, pulling out and unfolding a sheet of paper. “With your collective track record regarding this specific event, I assumed you would all forget again, and so took some steps to ensure that there would be a backup plan when the event arises and we wouldn’t need to deal with moodiness and general malaise from the team for the next several weeks.”

The Engineer took the paper, holding it so Medic could read it at the same time as him, Heavy leaning to try and get a look. Eyebrows began to rise. The paper was passed around the remainder of the table.

“You think this’ll work?” Demo asked suspiciously.

“Obviously. Well, and to be fair, you don’t exactly have any other options.”

He had them there.

-

“—Just totally can’t believe you talked Miss P into lettin’ us do this that���s just the coolest shit in the world lemme tell ya, like seriously that’s completely nuts and I can’t even believe it, she’s the best—!“

Scout had only stopped talking long enough to breathe over the course of the entire walk from the base to the makeshift baseball pitch that the Engineer had propped up overnight, absolutely bubbling and more high-energy than any of them had assumed to even be possible—even for him. And most of them had anticipated already hating the idea by the time they got to the pitch, but so far things were actually going rather well. The uniforms that had been shipped in (in their team colors, obviously) all fit them correctly and weren’t nearly as embarrassing as expected, in particular since most of them opted to keep at least one part of their usual wardrobe in the mix, such as masks or helmets or hats. Pyro, for one, just put the baseball uniform on over their entire flamesuit, but nobody was particularly surprised.

They crested the little ridge and got a look at the pitch, and for a moment, Scout went silent, eyes wide and mouth agape. Demo elbowed the Engineer to get his attention and flashed a thumbs up, making him grin and fluster a bit, mumbling about how it was nothin’ special, really.

“Alright,” Scout finally said, turning to them with his hands on his hips, taking on an authoritative tone. “So who here knows how baseball works?”

The Engineer and Soldier raised their hands. After a moment, Sniper and Pyro tentatively did the same. Demo made a so-so motion with one hand.

“And who knows how sandlot baseball works?”

Everyone but the Engineer dropped their hands, and even then, he looked a little doubtful.

“Alright,” Scout said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “So we don’t exactly got enough people to make a real team—need twelve for a standard six-players-a-team. So we’re gonna be improvising a little bit.”

He looked around, and started addressing each of them with a pointed finger.

“Heavy,” he said, and the giant raised an eyebrow. “You’re catcher, all you gotta do is stay behind first base and catch the ball so it doesn’t roll away. I know you’re not gonna flinch when you see somethin’ speeding at your head, yeah?”

Heavy nodded thoughtfully.

“Cyclops, first base,” Scout said next. “Fucks with your blind spot the least, and you know how to throw shit. Mumbles, you’re on second, Helmet-Head on third.”

Demo flashed a thumbs-up, Pyro clapped their hands together, and Soldier raised an arm in a sturdy salute.

“Doc, right field. Odds are, none of these chuckleheads are gonna hit anything too far to the left or right of normal, but if they do, you’re like practically as fast as I am and can handle it. Spy, you hang out back there in left field. I know you’re probably not gonna catch shit if it comes at you, but hey, it’s worth a shot and you won’t gotta deal with much anyways.”

Medic nodded at the compliment and Spy raised an eyebrow at the insult.

“And Snipes, you’re the pitcher,” Scout concluded, hands returning to his hips.

There was a snort from Demo. Sniper elbowed him.

“Figured you know how to throw shit and won’t straight up brain anyone,” Scout continued, not noticing the squabble. “And I’ll be first up to bat, and we’ll cycle through everyone in that same order, starting as soon as you guys can stop me from running all the bases, then we’ll play normally from there, how’s that sound?”

“You’re sure talkin’ yourself a big game there, son,” the Engineer observed, eyebrows raised.

“Damn right, I’ve been playin’ this shit since I was three,” Scout said, grinning wide. “This is gonna kick ass.”

-

Indeed, the first eight pitches went by in pretty rapid succession. Two because they fumbled and hesitated and miscommunicated in their pitching and couldn’t beat him to the bases, two after that as Scout scored home runs, another general fumble, another home run, one where the ball landed a few feet away from Spy who outright didn’t attempt to catch it, only kicking it closer to Medic as he rushed up to get it, and then one where Scout didn’t notice until he was back at home base that Soldier had unintentionally thrown the ball directly into the side of Pyro’s head (who was distracted by drawing shapes into the dirt at their feet).

They just barely managed to get him out on third, and then it was Demo’s turn.

Overall, by the first circuit through the whole team, they were surprised to find that they were actually having fun, even and especially with the odd shenanigans that ensued during the course of the game. There was one point where Soldier full-body tackled Demo at first base (just slightly confused about a few of the contact rules), and another where Sniper thought it would be funny to throw a hard ball of clay from at his feet, sending the team laughing as it exploded all over Pyro’s suit and they needed to stop to wipe the lenses on their mask clear. Demo surprised all of them with the first bunt of the game, and the Engineer with sending the ball soaring nearly into a homerun, with him sheepishly asking if using the Gunslinger to swing was allowed after he’d already run the bases. Then there was Pyro calmly stealing their way to third after the team thought their turn was over, and Heavy accidentally cracking the bat, and Medic absolutely eating shit as he tried to take off towards first. And nobody for sure knew how to react to the one time that Spy actually caught the ball, all but diving to catch it and send it to second just in time to get Soldier out. And of course, all of them were left just slightly in awe as Scout sent home run after home run sailing towards the stratosphere.

They finally had to stop when it was getting dark and Heavy informed them that they didn’t have any more baseballs left in the bucket for all the ones sent sailing far foul or off into the distance with a homerun. Soldier and Demo promised to go pick them up the following day and they all began their trudge back to base, covered in the bright orange loam of the desert and already slightly sore and feeling like they were in much higher spirits than any of them had expected. Scout, most of all, seemed... contented. Not just cheerful, not just bubbly, but contented, satisfied. Happy. He seemed so very happy.

Several of them, glancing around between themselves, considered telling Scout the truth, that they hadn’t put in nearly as much work as he thought they did. But most of them just settled in for saying happy birthday a few more times over assorted bottles of booze and maybe even a movie.

Sniper, for one, was a little fidgety on the way back to base. Halfway there, he took Scout by the shoulder, pulling him to slow down just a bit.

“Had, er,” Sniper said once they were a good few meters trailed behind the team, eyes averted. “Heavy said we were out, but. Had, er. Had one ball left.”

He pulled the baseball in question out of his pocket, unfolded it from the handkerchief it was in, passed it over, a little sheepish. Scout took it, confused, turning it over in his hands.

He stopped dead in his tracks. The rest of the team slowed and turned as they realized two of their party weren’t with them. Scout’s mouth was agape.

“Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod ohmyGOD—“ Scout babbled suddenly, eyes widening, practically starting to vibrate in place. “—is this a real actual serious legitimate gen-u-ine real signature? Snipes please tell me you’re not fuckin’ around right now ohmyGOD.”

“Nah, yeah, from the actual bloke,” Sniper agreed, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yats-rem-key, something like?”

“Only just jersey number eight, left fielder for the Boston Red Sox, five-time All-Star four-time Gold Glove winner and three-time batting champion, Triple Crown winner and overall MVP in the entire American Major League of baseball, Carl Michael motherfuckin’ Yastrzemski!”

Sniper faltered under the sudden weight of the entirety of Scout as he was all but tackled in a hug, Scout continuing to babble excitedly on about the man whose signature was on the baseball in his hands. There was a general chuckle and rolling of eyes from the team as they watched the scene unfold.

“And we’re sure Sniper’s not the catcher, then?” Demo asked lightly, and with Sniper not there to elbow him, the Engineer took his place, making Demo snicker.

“If you would please cease embarrassing yourselves,” Spy called over after giving them a solid minute, which made Scout look up and apparently notice the entire team looking at them, flushing red and promptly trying to pretend he didn’t just do all that. “I believe that Heavy has prepared some kind of cake and I for one would rather not eat it after Pyro has covered it in candles and torched them all.”

Indeed, Pyro by then had a good head start on the team, who all hurried to catch up. And they all bumbled their way through at least five nationalities’ rendition of a Happy Birthday Song, and each very nearly got through their slice before the first scrap of the night began and the rest of it was lost in the mayhem, and overall, Scout would remark the next day through the haze of his hangover that actually, that was easily one of his favorite birthdays in a long time.

[doinurmommy]

Dad Jokes, Go for Broke (New Version) pt.1

10k never thought he’d get to be a dad; let alone a good one. Now he, and the only family he’s had since his father passed away, have some tough choices to make after being thrown one unexpected situation after another. 

Cross posted on Ao3

Fandom: Z nation

Pairing: 10k/Reader

Rating: Teen and Up (references to adult themes such as sex and pregnancy)

A rewrite of my original Dad Jokes, Go for Broke series. A new chapter should be up every other week. I finally have an Ao3! (monochromehobo on Ao3 as well) I will be cross posting the new version over there and maybe the old version if enough people want me to. I hope you guys like the New version as much as the old one. I worked really hard on it and have improved a ton since I wrote the original series two years ago.

And something about laying on top of the covers with the box fan tittering loudly in the open window, the laundry hanging to dry in the corner, just felt right. I briefly thought back on hot summer days when my grandmother would be hanging up the laundry when I got home from school and I would lay in her bed while she listened to the radio and finished cleaning. With the afternoon sun streaming in through the window and my Spotify playlist humming through the speaker in the background, everything felt right for a moment.

But that was the first day of the apocalypse. And now there was no Spotify playlist, no box fan tittering in the window. It was too hot, too sticky. No clean laundry flapping in the wind. No Grandma to make me food. No food to be made, really. But there was 10k. And I took comfort in laying in an actual bed with him. In an actual house, with a window and light to stream through it. And in pressing the side of my face to his sweaty chest. I told him about that moment this made me think of. He chuckled and it made his chest vibrate low against my cheek. And you know what? There might as well have been food to make, and laundry to clean, and a box fan to make us less uncomfortably sticky-hot; because when I was with 10k I was at peace. Like the world hadn't gone to shit and I didn't have to watch everyone I once loved, including my grandma, become undead freaks.

I felt strands of my hair being brushed behind my ear as a loud crash could be heard from down stairs. 10k bolted upright and out of bed slingshot poised for action; I followed shortly behind knife out and ready. Addy was locked against the table by a Z, 10k quickly sending a nickel through the side of it's head, effectively killing it. Addy quickly thanked him before drawing our attention to the window. 10 or 11 more were ambling a little to close for comfort. "Looks like it's time to go guys," She said picking up the Zwhacker and slinging it over her shoulder as she gathered her stuff. I ran upstairs to gather our shit and alert the others.

 "Warren! Vasquez! Time to grab Murphy and go we got a lot of Z's out the front!," I yelled as I pulled our stuff together.

Warren responded with a nod, replacing her machete on her belt, "Alright we'll have to loop around the back to get to the truck." Rushing down the stairs she took out a couple of zombies that had made their way in. She waved us along out the back window. I pushed 10k's backpack through and slid out after it. I was relieved to see Addy and 10k were waiting out back for us.

/// 

We spent the next 6 days, pretty much straight, on the road to make up for the time we lost by hanging around at the last house. 6 days of on and off sleeping in the truck bed and scouting for gas. 10k and I talked for hours about what we did before we met both pre and post Z. We eventually had a good laugh about the first time I met 10k. He had been pretending to be deaf with his two idiot friends, and I helped him escape the death penalty. I mean after all when was I going to find another kid my age to hang out with in this apocalypse. I guess it all works in mysterious ways because that idiot that nearly got me killed has more than made up for it since then. "So, you still think aliens are real after all that went down in Roswell?" I chuckled, teasing him about the wild stories he chose to share.

"Oh, 100 percent. Like I said, my uncle saw them," he smiled as he spoke. Sometimes I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. He slapped the side of the truck and asked Warren to stop at a gas station ahead. He grabbed a road map from the front door, holding it up for everyone to see, "Anybody feel like going to the grand canyon?" That got a laugh out of everyone. Just the thought of hiking in the hot sun made me sick to my stomach.

//

Turns out the grand canyon was as nauseatingly hot as I expected. The smell of millions of zombies being filed into it didn't quite help with the nauseating part. Although I will say I did have a good time, even though hiking over the side of a cliff and getting taken hostage wasn’t my exactly my idea of a fun date. But damn was the grand canyon as breathtaking as it was made out to be. Even with the millions of zombies. I would have liked to stay, but we have our mission. Still, I'd like to think that someday we'll be able to visit again.

I slumped in the back seat of the car as we continued on through the dessert. I tried to make the best of it but there weren't even any trees or plants to play ‘I Spy’ with. I was never one to get car sick; however, something about the bumpy dessert and the nonstop driving had me feeling not the best. I would have never stopped us if I could help it; luckily enough for me 10k had no qualms about it. He made Warren pull over so I could barf up my stale crackers and water, patting my back as I sat on the curb. "Yeah, I'm just car sick. I'll be fine," I said, wiping the corners of my mouth. “Maybe I ate something old.”

"Well sweetheart it's the apocalypse everything's kinda old nowadays," Doc earned himself a few smirks and chuckles with that one.

"Well whatever it is we have to get going. Savior of humanity? The mission? Anyone? Buller?" Murphy growled from the back seat.

10k helped me back up as we all piled back into the vehicle. "Are you okay?" 10k asked from the other side of the truck bed, "I know you say you are but you can can barely run 50 ft without getting out of breath," I know he meant well but his tone of voice held something else in it that I didn't like.

"Yeah, 10k. If I wasn't okay I would say so. A stomach bug isn't really a big deal in the grand scheme of the apocalypse is it?" I felt instantly embarrassed at my outburst. The rest of the ride was pretty much silent.

>>

When we pushed through the dust and came upon the hotel we would stay at briefly I never pictured everything that would happen there. The leader of the group made us go by his ridiculous rules and processes, lining us up and telling us his first impressions of us. I was incredibly surprised by how accurate he got everyone, except for me. He stopped in front of me pausing for a few moments before slowly pointing at my chest and speaking. "You; you're an interesting one. Your good intentions and quick moves hold the group together, but you've got a secret. That secret will cause you a lot of pain," I side eyed 10k sharing an awkward glance between us and this strange man. I suppose the first bit was somewhat true, but secret? I don’t do anything remotely interesting enough to be a secret. Even though I didn’t know what he was talking about it didn’t stop bothering me the entire time we were there. I think part of me may have been concerned he was talking about 10k.

After all of our "introductions" I initially followed Doc and 10k on their quest for food. I felt my stomach ache return not too soon after we finished our rations, making eye contact with 10k I signaled for him to follow me towards a more secluded spot of our temporary camp. "Not feeling well again?" I nodded to answer him as he ran his hand down my arm. I took a peek around the corner to make sure nobody was in ear shot and able to see us before I went ahead to kiss him. I kissed him deeply, rubbing my hands up his back.

I guess you could call us 'touch starved' for each considering that we only got to be alone together once every few weeks. Its not that we were keeping our relationship a secret from the group, it's just that we weren’t the type of people to be on each other in public or disclose our business to people. I mean, I assumed the group had an idea.

10k broke away from the kiss, resting his forehead against mine, "I was serious when I said I was worried about you."

"I know and I'm sorry I snapped at you but worrying isn't really gonna get us anywhere," I said softly.

"I guess not," he replied leaning back in, "but that won't stop me from doing it."

>>

"Well once we get out of here we'll find a drug store I promise," I responded pulling my pants back up. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him when he got so stubborn. He couldn't even enjoy having sex without returning right back to square one of our argument.

"10k! (Y/N)!" I could hear Doc calling us from the next room over.

"Saved by the bell," I huffed under my breath, smile etched into my cheeks.

>>

The rest of our stay in that damn hotel definitely wasn't boring, but I was certainly ready to get out of there. All the bullshit of the office workers was getting old. Besides, I think if we had stayed any longer 10k may have made good on his threat to kill Murphy. 10k brushed my side as we climbed into the back of the truck. I always liked that he found little ways to let me know he wasn't mad at me. I never had to ask. We shared a snicker as Addy hopped in after us.

We all sat pretty silently for the rest of the day as we traveled south toward Mexico. We passed by a few small houses, Doc suggesting we pull off the road for the night. We entered one of the houses quickly clearing it of Zs and settling in for the night. 10k and I had first watch duty.

"You know what I think I miss most about Pre-Z?" I gave a side glance at 10k seeing him smirk as he asked what, "Pajamas."

"Pajamas?"

"Yeah when's the last time you slept in anything besides jeans or cargo pants?" 10k shrugged in response to my question.

"It's still light out," he turned to face me leaning on a fence post, "Do you want to go scout that corner store down the street for a bit?"

"Yeah, sure. Let me just go tell Warren."

>>

"Push harder!"

"Here let me just kick it," 10k backed away from the door, firmly kicking it next to the handle as I got ready to kill whatever Zs may be in there. 10k kicked the door a second time; I stood by as it swung open.

"Looks like no Zs," I said glancing around the small space. There was still enough light left to see clearly but the sun would be setting fast. "This place must have been closed when shit hit the fan there's still all sorts if stuff here." I ran my hand along the shelves as I perused the aisles. They looked completely untouched.

I yelped; 10k scared me by jumping out from behind the next aisle."You ass!" I yelled giving him a light punch to the chest.

He wrapped his arms around me in a hug as we both laughed. I rested my head on his shoulder, just taking a few seconds to enjoy the moment. 10k let out a sigh looking at something over my shoulder. "What's wrong 10k?"

"Nothing," he said nuzzling his face into my hair,  “Just worried. But I know you'll be fine; you're strong." 10k returned his gaze to whatever was on the shelf behind me, pulling away slightly. "Hey."

"What is it?"

"You don't think that uh.." 10k veered off still looking behind me. I raised my eyebrows in response. "When's the last time you got your..." he gestured vaguely. I looked over my shoulder to see what he was looking at.

I barked out a laugh seeing what he was looking at. "My period?" He nodded in response. “10k it's the apocalypse periods are irregular at best nonexistent at worst," I paused meeting his eyes, "Or best depending on your point of view." We both gave little chuckles at that.

"Will you take one? Just to be sure?"

I sighed, picking one up off the shelf, "Okay, but when it's negative you have to stop bothering me."

“Deal.”

I began to walk towards the back of the store, looking over my shoulder to make sure 10k was close behind. I opened the bathroom door and scanned the small room with my flash light. Empty.

"Do you want me to go in with you?" 10k asked, hand holding open the bathroom door.

"No, I think I've got it," I immediately changed my mind once I realized how dark it was in the small room. "Actually 10k would you mind holding the flashlight for me?"

I shakily took the instructions and the test out of the package, opening up the instructions skimming through them. "Can you look the other way?"

Once I was done I set it on the sink and turned to face 10k. He looked, well, the best word to describe it was pale. "Now what?" He came closer to the sink as he spoke.

"We have to wait two minutes.”

“And then what?”

“Then we’ll have our answer.”

Waiting was the worst part, I hadn’t even considered pregnancy as an option for what was wrong with me but after taking the test it was an all consuming possibility. “Do you want to read it? I don’t think I can.”

I watched him pick it up off the sink, surprisingly no hesitation or shake to his hands. I’m not sure how long he actually looked at it, but it felt like at least 15 minutes. I watched tears prick at his eyes after awhile. I’m not sure why but I asked him if he was mad at me. I didn’t even need to see it to know it was positive.

“No! Of course not. Why would I be?” he took my hands in his and made eye contact with me.

“10k... It’s not like this is exactly like this is an ideal situation to raise a kid. We’re so young, and that would be problem enough it weren’t for the whole apocalypse thing. I can’t even count the number of times we’ve been shot at in the last year. And...”

“And?”

“And I can’t help feeling this is my fault. I can’t feeling I should have know better. That my recklessness lead to this. That... That I should have know better. Because now there’s this big unexpected terrible responsibility that I caused.”

“I’m pretty sure I contributed to this problem as much as you did,” there was something strange in his voice. “What has you convinced this is a bad thing?” I could hear the hurt dripping off his voice.

“10k..” I softened my voice, “How could it not be?”

“I never thought I’d get to be a dad. Let alone a good one. This could be our chance to make something good that’s not broken. To build something new. I love you so much; so how could it not be a good thing? I get to share something so special with someone I love so much. They say there’s never a right time, right? So why not now? When would we get another chance?”

“Who exactly is they?” I cracked a joke, still trying to convince myself this could be a good thing. I mean 10k made some pretty convincing points. Why would I ruin this for us, when I could share this once in a lifetime chance with the only person I’d trust to pull me from a horde of zombies? This could really be a good, and really stressful, thing. A new start. 

I leaned into 10k, half-crying half-laughing into his should. “Okay. Let’s do this then.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I watched the tear tracks run down his face as we just stood there. In that nasty corner store bathroom. Goofy naive smiles cracked on our faces. Terrified excitement buzzing between us as we thought about how much we had in front of us. "You know it's not gonna be easy, Tommy."

His nose crinkled at the use of his birth name, "My Pa always said if it’s easy it’s not worth it."

“Your Pa also thought aliens are real.”

I grabbed the still lit flashlight, breaking the silence, “Alright let’s get out of here and bring those supplies back to camp. The sun’s down already, and I’m starving.”

I watched 10k’s expression, feeling a dumb joke about to make it’s way into the conversation. He looked entirely too pleased with himself as he as he began talking. 

“Hi starving. I’m dad.”