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leewritesstuff · 3 years ago

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Lose You To Love Me |Tom Holland x Reader

Paring: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Losing someone hurts, but knowing that things get better, feels fine. You were dating Tom but feels as if you guys were slowly drifting away

Song: Lose You To Love Me

Masterlist

This is my first Tom Holland works, it's a little rusty since I haven't written something that isn't anime for a while.

You promised the world and I fell for it I put you first and you adored it Set fires to my forest And you let it burn Sang off-key in my chorus 'Cause it wasn't yours

Having an on-and-off relationship was difficult. Especially when the relationship was a secret. You wanted to come out and be public but Tom didn't. The excuses were 'They will attack you' or 'I'm just not ready' but to see him posing for pictures with other models and celebrities made you feel as if you were a secret as if he was a shame.

Moving from the kitchen to sit in the living room couches, you played with his hair, feeling his soft curls between your fingers.

"Tom do you think we could go to that new cafe that opens up down the straight? I hear that they sell amazing cupca-" Without looking up from his phone, he replies with "I would love to but I don't want anyone spotting us" "Well that's fine if they do, don't you think it's time that they know?" "I just want us to keep some stuff to ourselves, ya know?" Letting out a sigh, you leaned your body off of his, grabbed the remote to turn on the tv.

I saw the signs and I ignored it Rose-colored glasses all distorted Set fire to my purpose And I let it burn You got off on the hurtin' When it wasn't yours, yeah

"Who the fuck is her huh?! Is that why you can't hang out? Or why you're always so late? You never have time to spend with me, heck you don't even say sorry for missing out on our planned dates!" "For fucking sake Y/N! Not everything is about you! I told you I was running late because I was at a party for work! You of all people are supposed to know that!" "I wouldn't be feeling this way if people weren't taking pictures of you and that model! Friends don't act that way! You don't see me acting that way with Harrison!"

"I swear it's like you're my fucking mother. I'm a grown-ass man, I can do whatever the hell I want! Stop bitching every fucking time!"

You looked at him in shock, still trying to register the words he used on you. Some fans have been speculating that you and Tom were dating but that was quickly debunked when a few pictures of Tom and another model were 'rumored' to be dating.

At first the rumors didn't bother you. It was for an upcoming movie, but after a while of countless photos of them together, it started to make you feel a type of way, jealously, insecure.

You didn't exactly notice that your relationship was falling apart, only feeling the distance. You nodded your head at him, "Alright"

He watched you, anger from the fight filling up his veins. He was tired of having the same fight with you every time a picture of him and a girl gets posted.

He walked over to you and grabbed your hands, holding them tightly, "Look, I'm not cheating okay? You know how the paps get when they see something like a good story. I love you, and only you okay? You just have to trust me"

You leaned into his touch, hugging him back. Still not feeling secure but decides to ignore it.

He never did say sorry to those planned dates.

We'd always go into it blindly I needed to lose you to find me This dancing was killing me softly I needed to hate you to love me, yeah

After the incident that happens two weeks ago, nothing was the same. The relationship started getting more toxic, one of you would be yelling at the other or mentally abusing eachotherTom started coming home late and was spending more time outside than with you. He wasn't even home for your anniversary, instead, he chose to go to a pub. You tried to get Harrison to speak to him, but he would always come back at you, yelling at you for dragging his friend into his.

So you decided to go to the pub he was in.

You called up your best friend and got yourself ready. You didn't expect the pub to be so filled, but then again clubbing was never really your thing. Music blazing, the smell of alcohol in the air. bodies rolling on each other. Your friend asks you if you were fine then heads straight to the dance floor.

You head to the bar and asked the bartender for a drink. After receiving your drink you sat on one of the stools and drink it, looking around to see if your boyfriend was around.

Finishing the drink and not seeing him, you were starting to feel bad for doubting him, getting ready to leave, you got up but when you do, you saw someone who looks like Tom grinding into a blonde girl.Confusion written on your face. You walk up closer to get a good look, surprised, shock, and anger running through your veins.

You watched as he grinds his hips into her, feeling her up with his hands. It made you sick. Disgusted. What made you feel even sicker was when he turned her around and held a full make-out session with her. Feeling the tears flow from your eyes, you left and tried to find your friend.

You explained to her what happen and even in her drunken state, she tried to comfort you, you both left and head home.

So much for being the only one.

To love, love, yeah To love, love, yeah To love, yeah I needed to hate you to love me, yeah

For days you felt like shit, for days you ignored his calls, for days you hated him.

You couldn't stand seeing his face, seeing how he was trying to pretend as if ntohing ever happened. It hurt you to know that he was playing his pretend role as if he was acting about how he feels about you. He tried calling but his calls were always ignored.

Tom felt as if you were slowly slipping away from him. He didn't know what he had done wrong. He thought everything was going well. He tried calling one more time, then gave up, deciding to give you your space.

To love, love, yeah To love, love, yeah To love, yeah I needed to lose you to love me

Saying hello was always easy but saying goodbye was the hardest thing to do.Trying to shove all your clothes into the suitcase, shoving his hands off so your shoulder. You watch him, feeling no emotions, just blank. Empty. Nothing.

"I never thought, you of all people would cheat on me." "What do you mean? I never-" "Oh don't lie Thomas, I saw you, a few weeks ago when you were at the club. , If our relationship wasn't good why couldn't you have said anything? I spent days, weeks trying to get you to talk to me but no. I'm not even surprised, I mean they say actors lie about their true feelings, I guess I missed the warnings huh?"

Tom watched you in shock, not expecting you to call him out on that. He didn't plan for this to happen, it was supposed to be a one-time thing but the thrill and excitement he got made him feel something. He didn't mean to hurt you, but he did. And that was something that he could never take back.

"I'm sorry.." You let out a laugh, this whole situation was funny, "Now you're sorry, for what? For missing out on dates? Coming home late? Ignoring me? Oh wait is it because you got caught cheating on me with some bimbo right?"

"Don't call her that!"

"Ha, you even protect her... I thought you were different, but I guess I was wrong"

And now the chapter is closed and done To love, love, yeah To love, love, yeah To love, yeah

Months passed, four to be exact and you have been doing better after moving out of Tom's you were able to afford an apartment for yourself which you then rented out half to your friend. You got promoted from your job and now you're working for more money.

Standing in line, to order your favorite cup of drink, someone bounced into you, knocking their drink on you.

"Watch it you asshole!" "Y/N?"

You look up and notice Tom standing in front of you, holding two cups of coffee.

"Hey, how have you been?" "I've been good, have a few acting roles coming up for a new movie. How about you? I remember you were working for a fashion store"

"I became manager, the pay is nice. If I keep it up they might move me to another firm that pays higher"

He nodded his head at you, feeling a bit proud of you," Well I'm in town for a bit, I won't be leaving until next month"

"Nice" Que the awkwardness

"Hey look, I'm sorry for how things turned out, I didn't mean for it to happen. I was kind of hoping that we could probably talk like we used to, or go to dinner or-"

"Look, Tom, no hard feelings but I'm over that. I have a life now, you started this and you can't make me forget all the pain that you caused me. I'm over that, I'm done crying and you should too."

He nodded his head, trying to hide the disappointment he's feeling, he tried to put on a smile to play it off but you know better, "Well I hope to see you again"

Grabbing your cup of coffee from the cashier, you paid her and face time. You said something which made his smile dropped as he watched you walk out.

"And now it's goodbye, it's goodbye for us"

#angst #tomholland #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland x you #romance #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland fic #fanfiction #oneshot #lyrics #songlyrics

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grumpyhedgehogs · 4 years ago

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our bones are old but this tragedy is so new

Summary: Ahsoka takes Cody to Rex. Cody gives Rex a gift. AO3. Part 3 of the “scraps” series. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5. Warnings: Canonical character death, discussions of death and suicide.

Cody has not seen his own face for years. He knows he looks very different. He’s grown old faster than he should have and the Kaminoans messed with the clones’ genes too much and for too long for the Empire to see reversing the advanced aging process as economically viable. He still thinks he’s avoided the worst of it: his limbs aren’t twisted, his spine is straight, his shoulders don’t droop under exhaustion. He moves a little slower, a little stiffer. His hands are weaker than they used to be but they don’t tremble when he grips a blaster. He’s tired more often, sicker than he ever was when he manages to catch a bug, but that’s really all. He’ll die sooner than natborns, but Cody’s always known that. Besides, he’s outlived the one person he always hoped he’d die before; the only thing worse than going to Obi-Wan’s funeral is the fact there is no funeral at all. Old age, no matter how much he hates it, is pretty kind to Cody.

So it’s not something that bothered him until he’s seeing his reflection in Rex’s face.

“Since when did you get so old, little brother?” Cody wants to slap his own forehead as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but he can’t help it. Teasing Rex is second nature. Rex’s face twists comically, mouth working in complicated motions before he throws himself forward.

His brother’s arms around him are a balm Cody realizes he never wants to let go of. Rex is older too, and tougher, and bigger than Cody remembers. They hold on for a long time; Cody doesn’t feel any shame in tucking his face into Rex’s neck. He lets out a shuddering breath and Rex sighs against him, laying a heavy hand on the back of Cody’s neck. He knocks their foreheads together when he pulls back. Cody keeps ahold of his shoulder, sure he’ll disappear the second he lets go, just vanish into thin air. He’s seen others do it before, after all.

“ Kote .” Rex says, affectionate, awed. “ Kote .”

“Yes,” Cody agrees, a little wetly. “It’s me.” His brother’s hair is stark white. Ahsoka smiles at them over her shoulder before ducking discretely out of the room. Cody lets her go.

“I thought you were dead, Cody. Thank everything out there you’re not.”

Cody nods past the lump in his throat. Rex curls his fingers into the edges of Cody’s poncho, lifting the fabric to see the armor beneath. Cody doesn’t even realize he’s doing it when he reacts; he comes back to himself with a hand clamped around Rex’s wrist, squeezing too tight. Rex lifts a brow at him and slowly pulls back. “Sorry,” Cody apologizes. He almost starts shaking; he didn’t know he was doing it until it was done. He’d lost himself. He can’t-- “I’m sorry. Just. Please don’t touch this.”

Rex, the best vod in the entire batch, lets it go without comment. He nods at Cody’s chest. “You kept the trooper armor.”

Cody lays his hand over his sternum, where the insignia he’d made blazes across his cuirass . “With a few modifications. You’re suited up too. I didn’t want to be left out.”

Rex smiles. “Wouldn’t mind one of those designs myself.”

“It’s a good reminder.”

Rex’s arm is heavy and solid and comforting across his shoulders as they sit at the table in the small ship Ahsoka led Cody to when they'd gotten to this planet after a week's hyperspace travel. He’s sure she’s making changes to the navigation system somewhere; she’d told him she’d introduce him to the rebels she knew, people who could give him a job. But first she took him to Rex. Gratitude chokes Cody. Still, the idea that someday in the near future he’ll get to pick off some Imperial officers makes his blood rush like it hasn’t since the last time the 212th got together.

Cody leans against his brother and breathes shallowly. He could sleep for a week; he’s been running on adrenaline and bad decisions, just keeping one step ahead of the Imps and following in his brother’s footsteps for weeks, maybe months now. He has Rex now. He has Ahsoka. Sleep wells up against the backs of his eyes but he forces it away; he might wake up and find this was all a dream.

“You could sleep here.” Rex was always too good at reading him. “I’d wake you if anything exciting happened.”

“In a little while. Just. Give me a minute.”

He fiddles with the edges of the robe to stay awake. For a few moments silence stretches between them like a warm blanket. Rex’s hand catches his. “What’s with this?”

“It’s...” Cody pulls away a little, clutching at a corner of the robe that drapes over his shoulder. He’s having a hard time meeting Rex’s eyes. “It’s his. Kenobi’s.”

“Oh. Oh, Cody .”

“Yeah,” Cody says tightly. His throat narrows to the width of a straw. “Yeah.”

Rex pauses delicately. “What happened?”

“I was still under, you know. Stationed on the Death Star with--with him. I think he liked seeing what happened to me. Like it--it gave him a thrill to see how much he’s taken from the Jedi.” How much he’s taken from Obi-Wan, Cody means. Rex nods jerkily and Cody remembers very suddenly that Skywalker used to be Rex’s general. He doesn’t have to wonder if Rex knows he’s Vader; Rex’s face is stony, his eyes smoldering. He knows. “Anyway, this princess from Alderaan, we picked her up after that fiasco on Scarif.”

“We lost a lot of good people in that battle,” Rex murmurs. Cody doesn’t doubt it. He’d seen the power it took to wipe that beach off the map. It makes him shudder just thinking about it.

“Yeah. So, this princess, she’s Organa’s daughter and she’s suspected of being a rebel. That’s confirmed now. She was being interrogated by Vader and some rebels, a small contingency, showed up to get her out.”

“They stormed Vader on his own turf?” He sounds vaguely impressed. “Why do I not like where this is headed?”

Cody swallows hard. “Because who do we both know who’s crazy enough to come up with a plan like facing Vader head on without backup?” Rex thinks for a split second and then curses vehemently. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I said. Obi-Wan showed his face right when the rebels were about to get caught. I was--was one of the troopers shooting at them.”

“It wasn’t you,” Rex says. He shakes Cody’s shoulder when Cody refuses to look up from where he’s studying his hands. “It wasn’t you, Kote .”

“Sure.” Cody agrees, voice flat. His chest twinges but he continues. “So, Obi-Wan showed up and he must have sabotaged the ship’s system because the bay door opened and he held Vader off long enough for the rebels--three humans and a Wookie, and it looked like only one of the humans, this kid, actually knew Kenobi--to get away. But Vader--Vader killed him, Rex. It woke me up. He killed Obi-Wan right in front of me.”

He sits there, mouth cottony, throat clogged, eyes wet, and realizes he can’t breathe. His chest twinges again and now the pain won’t leave and his lungs burn but he can’t breathe. He’s struggling, cheeks soaked, but he can’t breathe and there are hands on his shoulders--they might be Rex, but they could be Obi-Wan’s, he used to hold Cody like this after a bad battle, it could be, it could--and he still can’t breathe but he can speak and he keep repeating it, repeating, “He killed him. He killed him. Right in front--in front of me, he killed him.”

It’s only when his head is shoved between his knees and held there that Cody starts to come back to himself. He taps at Rex’s knee until he lets up. Rex’s eyes are sharp and vigilant; one wrong move and Cody thinks he may get a hypo full of sedative to the throat. He hasn't had a good night’s sleep since Obi-Wan died, so he wouldn’t mind if it came down to that.

“You’re okay, Cody,” Rex murmurs, hand still on the back of his neck. “You’re okay.”

Cody says nothing, wiping at his sodden face as best he can. His chest still hitches with every breath.

“Kenobi--Obi-Wan was a good man,” Rex continues, and now his voice is tight too. He clears his throat gruffly. “He was a good friend and a fantastic general and the best Jedi, and I’m so, so sorry Cody.”

“I saw him die Rex. I tried to kill him when the Order went out.”

“It wasn’t you. You’re here now.”

“Do you--do you miss Skywalker, Rex?”

It’s a cheap shot, a low blow. Cody shouldn’t ask it. He does. Rex stiffens beside him but doesn’t pull away. “I miss who he was before he became what he is,” Rex whispers back. “But I--I worked with you and Kenobi for a long time too, Cody. I can’t miss him like you can, not when I know you loved him. But I can miss him with you, too.”

“I wanted to die with him.”

“I know. I wanted to die when I found out about Vader.”

Cody guesses that’s fair.

Obi-Wan would tell him this is healthy, that letting his grief out is the first step to getting rid of it. He’d give Cody tea, probably, and let him talk until it was all out, like expelling sickness from the body. He wouldn’t judge, just like Rex doesn’t judge. He’d hold Cody when he cries. He’d do all of that, if the Jedi weren’t dead, if the Republic weren’t dead, if Obi-Wan weren’t dead.

Cody blinks suddenly, and pulls away quickly. Rex startles but doesn’t draw back. He watches, bewildered, as Cody rummages through his rucksack. Beneath their feet, engines roar to life; Ahsoka’s getting ready for take-off, then. Making a small sound of triumph, Cody pulls something out of his pack and holds it aloft towards his brother.

Rex takes the scrap of fabric with both hands, gingerly, and looks to Cody for an explanation. “It’s his sleeve,” Cody tells him, hoarse still. The tears just keep coming back, so he doesn’t bother to wipe them away again. “Ahsoka’s got the other one. I’ve got the rest, obviously. He--he wasn’t your general, but you’re right. He was a good friend of the clones.”

“Cody…” Rex turns the cloth over and over in his palms. He holds it like something precious. Cody’s heart swells a little. When he looks up, Rex’s eyes are wide and overbright. “Are you sure?”

“You’re the only one who understands,” Cody says, honesty making him lightheaded. “The only one. I’d be honored. Obi-Wan would be too.”

Rex curls his hands into fists around the offering and nods, solemn. His face is old now, and weathered, and matches Cody down to the last detail. There are tears in his eyes as Rex answers in their mother tongue, “ I will carry it, always .”

Cody bites his lip, breathes in, out, in, and finishes the Mando’a phrase every clone knows as acknowledgement of a gift. “ May it give you strength in battle .”

“ May it protect us both ,” Rex amends, and Cody curls his hands around his brother’s. They hold the fabric together and let it begin to heal them, stitch by stitch.

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hymn2000 · 6 years ago

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Freeze - MCU AU Fanfic - C2

(Title subject to change)

Previous chapter(s): 1

Story synopsis:- When a burst gas main destroys everything and leaves Peter with nothing, the Stark’s take him in. Thrown together by necessity, they then need to try to keep it together and build a new life. Devastated by loss, Peter doesn’t make things easy for them, and Loki and Tony struggle with their own grief and the responsibility of having someone completely dependant on them.

Chapter description:- With the funeral out of the way, it’s time for Peter to return to school. The return to education is far from ideal

Chapter warnings/themes: character death, hurt/comfort, trauma, grief, depression/mental health issues

Relationships: Frostiron (Loki x Tony) (romantic), Tony and Peter (platonic), Loki and Peter (platonic)

From the same AU as Called To Be A Rock

Chapter 2 - How Did It Come To This?

Custody of Peter’s was assigned legally to Loki and Tony. They kept the official side of things to themselves. Peter had other things to think about. Deep down, he was grateful he hadn’t lost everything – he still had his phone, and a load of clothes and some books and other things he’d left at school and at the Stark’s. He had privately hoped that he’d be able to go back and salvage some of their belongings, but the day after the explosion, the building featured on the news in another story – it had been set alight. They had a live video link on the news, and all Peter could do was sit in front of the telly and sob as he watched his life literally burn away before his eyes. He’d lost so much. He had nothing left of May but his memories. Even her car had been caught up in the blaze.

Tony told Peter he should write a eulogy. They were doing everything quickly. The funeral was set for a week after the explosion had torn everything to the ground. Peter spent a long time at the desk in Tony’s study writing his tribute. He made several drafts, editing thoroughly. It took him two days before he was satisfied.

Tony and Loki grew more worried about Peter by the day. He’d barely spoken. He’d stopped eating. He wasn’t interested in doing anything. They tried hard to offer distractions and things to do, but Peter never wanted to do anything they suggested. He spent a long time looking at his phone, refusing to answer Ned’s calls. The screen was cracked, but miraculously, it had survived the accident and was still working. He’d only sent Ned two messages: one saying; “I’m alive”, and another a day or so later with; “May’s funeral:” followed by the date. Ned had sent countless texts and left countless voicemail messages, begging Peter to speak to him and let him know how he was doing. Eventually Tony had taken it upon himself to talk to Ned and let him know the full story. Loki wasn’t sure how he could best comfort him, so tried to content himself with merely keeping himself available for whenever Peter crawled onto his lap for a cuddle.

The day of the funeral saw brighter weather, sunny and relatively warm. Peter was struggling from the moment he woke up. Loki and Tony forced themselves to be strong for his sake. They helped him get ready and tried hard to reassure him. Peter felt sicker by the minute. He bit the inside of his cheeks and tried not to look anyone in the face.

Ned sat with him on the front pew, and as soon as he saw him, Peter threw his arms round him and hugged him as tight as he could.

Peter couldn’t stop looking at the coffin. It was hard to believe that his aunt was inside. Loki had been right: they hadn’t let him see her. They said it would be too traumatising. Tony agreed with them. He was still struggling with what he’d seen when they’d asked him to identify the body.

“…And now May’s nephew, Peter, will say a few words”

The voice broke through Peter’s distracted state. He glanced at Loki briefly, and stood up, taking his final speech out of his blazer pocket. He felt raw and hollow, and he was trembling. He could feel so many eyes on him as he approached the pulpit. He didn’t look at them: he looked back at the coffin, so much closer now. He looked at the shining wood, at the display of flowers and the gold engraved plaque on top. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. But he had to. He tore his eyes away, unfolding his speech. He looked down at the paper, and as he opened his mouth to speak, he broke down and started sobbing. It echoed round the walls of the church, and he covered his face helplessly with his hand, unable to move. He heard footsteps and then he was in Tony’s arms, held close and tight against him.

“Shh, ok sweetheart, ok”

“I can’t do it-!”

“Ok. Ok. Shall I read it for you?”

Peter nodded. “I can’t…”

“It’s ok. It’s ok”

He let him go and pressed him to sit back down. Peter returned to the bench, collapsing back into his seat and burying his face in Loki’s chest. Ned hugged him from behind.

“This is all Peter’s words: I’m just going to read it for him”

Peter gritted his teeth. He was so ashamed of himself. He pressed his hands over his ears as Tony began to read. He couldn’t bear to listen to his own words. He felt so fake for not being able to say them himself. He’d kept the tears back all morning. Why did his composure have to falter at the most crucial moment? He’d timed his speech, but it was so hard to keep track of time when burdened with such heavy emotion. He could hear Ned crying. He could feel Loki shaking with silent sobs. He hated this. He hated it so much. He felt so weak and lost and helpless.

“… You’ve always been there for me. I can always count on you to help me with absolutely anything. You’ve always made it so easy for me to talk to you. You’re more than just my aunt; you’re one of my best friends too-”

Peter lifted his head. Tony was crying too. He hid his head back in Loki’s chest, pressing his hands harder over his ears, trying to block everything out. Maybe it wouldn’t feel so real that way.

The hollow sound of the handful of dirt hitting the coffin made Peter feel sick to his stomach. Six feet under had never seemed so deep until today. He stared down into the grave, barely noticing the other people gathered at the graveside. He felt like he really was going to be sick, and as others scattered handfuls of dirt onto the coffin, it suddenly felt all too real. Without warning, he was suddenly on his knees, anxious and terrified and with absolutely no cause to remain dignified.

"Please don't go!! Please! Please don't leave me, I'm not ready for you to go! I don't want to do this without you!" he cried.

Loki knelt down, pulling the boy close with an arm about his chest. Peter didn't seem to notice.

"No! No, please, May, please don't go! May! May!"

Peter howled into the crook of Loki's elbow. He was briefly aware of Ned hugging him tight, but he couldn't feel him properly, like he was being touched through a very thick coat. The presence was lost after a while. He didn't know how long it had been. It felt like it could have been hours. All he knew for certain was that he couldn't stop crying. He didn't even bother trying. He didn't care any more. He had nothing left to care about.

Eventually he was hoicked up in Loki's strong arms. He was bundled into the back of the car, still sobbing uncontrollably. Loki sat in the back with him, holding him tight, and as the car started, he began to cry as well.

Loki had managed to calm himself by the time they got home - Peter had not. Loki carried him to his bedroom and, together with Tony, got him out of his suit. Tony picked up a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, but when he tried to help Peter into them, the boy shouted and pushed him away and wouldn't let him touch him.

"Come on, sweetheart. Don't be like that" Tony said sadly.

Loki grabbed the dressing gown from the back of the door, and although he flinched a bit, Peter let himself be dressed in it. Tony decided it was better than nothing, and set the clothes back on the chair.

"Ok. Alright sweetheart"

"No, it's not alright!" Peter burst out. "None of this is alright! It's all wrong and it's not fair!"

Tony sat down on the bed and tried to hug him, but Peter pulled away, standing up and stumbling over his feet. Loki caught him before he could fall.

"Peter" he said, gently.

Peter looked up at him. He felt so sick. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be anywhere. He didn't know what to do. He pushed passed Loki and ran.

"Peter!"

Tony grabbed his arm before he could run after him. Loki looked at him. He didn't need to say anything: Loki knew what that look meant.

Eventually Tony decided they needed to track Peter down. He checked all the usual places, to no avail.

"I can't find him" he said to Loki.

"I think I might know where he is"

Loki opened the storage cupboard by the side of the swimming pool, and sure enough, he found Peter sat beneath the shelf beside the mop buckets, his knees drawn up and his head in his hands. Loki sat down beside him, putting an arm round his shoulders. Tony sat at his other side, keeping his hands to himself for the moment.

"I can't do this"

Loki rested his head against Peter's. "You have to"

"I don't want to"

"You've got no choice"

"It gets easier" Tony said. "It'll get easier. It won't hurt like this forever. You'll find a way to cope"

"I don't believe you"

Tony sighed. "I know. But it really does get better. Life goes on no matter how much it hurts. You have to keep moving forward. Which reminds me..."

Peter finally looked up. "What?"

Tony looked at Loki. Peter did too. Loki looked uncomfortable.

"What?" Peter repeated.

"Peter" Tony said. "You know, in a couple of weeks, once you've had time to process everything, you'll have to go back to school"

"I know" Peter said.

In a way he'd kind of been looking forward to it. Maybe he'd be able to pretend everything was still normal while he was there. Tony shifted.

"See, the thing is, well, you see-"

"What?" Peter was growing impatient. He was hurting too much to play guessing games.

Tony exchanged a look with Loki.

"Peter, your school is too far away. We've looked into it, and it's just not practical. There's a school about a ten minutes walk away from here-"

"What? What do you mean? I don't mind long journeys" he looked at Tony desperately. He knew what was going on. "It's fine, I don't mind. I'll keep-"

"Peter" Tony interrupted him firmly. "You can't go to that school any more. We've got you a place at one near here. It's a similar sort of school, so you won't need too much adjustment-"

"No! No please, please Mr Stark, please don't do this!" he knelt up, grabbing at Tony's shirt. "I like my school, I don't wanna leave it! It's all I've got left, please, please Mr Stark!"

Tony carefully detached Peter's hands from his shirt. "I'm sorry, kiddo. If it were practical, I'd have let you keep going there. But it's not. I'm sorry. You really do have to move schools"

Peter knew there was no way around it. He didn’t know what else to say, so he just burst into tears. Holding onto the thought of going back to school, of maintaining at least one aspect of his normal life, had kept him going. Generally speaking, he didn't especially enjoy it there, but it was familiar. That was all he wanted; a bit of familiarity. And that had just been snatched away from him. Loki held him close and he cried and cried. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. He'd already lost his family, and now this bombshell had lost him his school and his friends. He thought back to earlier that day, to all the people in the church, to the solemn look on the coffin bearers faces, and he felt so unbearably sick-

"Oh dear. Alright sweetheart, alright. Shh" Tony grabbed a clean cleaning cloth and wiped Peter's mouth gently. "Lolly, why don't you take him upstairs? I'll come and join you once I've cleaned up down here"

Tony approached the sofa quietly.

“He’s asleep” Loki said, stroking the boys hair.

Tony nodded, and sighed. “It’s probably just as well”

“Tony, I don’t know what I’m doing”

“Neither do I. I really don’t have a clue”

Loki got to his feet, trembling. “I’m sorry-”

“Loki? Loki!” Tony hurried after him, catching him in the hallway. “Hey! Don’t run from me. Please”

Loki sank down into the chair beside the bureau, head in his hands. “I don’t think I can do this”

“I know it hurts” Tony said, taking Loki’s wrists so he had to look at him. “But we haven’t got a choice. Peter needs us. We’re all he’s got now”

Loki looked into his eyes. He knew he was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. “She didn’t deserve this”

Tony pressed his lips together, trying to stay composed.

“She was our friend” Loki said, his voice breaking.

“Oh Loki please, please don’t. Please don’t cry. You’ll set me off” he threw his arms round him desperately, clinging to him. “Please don’t cry”

Loki couldn’t help it. The pain was too much to bear. He cried into Tony’s shoulder while Tony cried into his. They’d both tried so hard not to cry in front of Peter, and now that they were finally alone, they couldn’t hold it in any more. They felt fake, like they had no right to be hurting when Peter was so anguished. Peter had lost everything - but that didn’t change the fact that Loki and Tony had lost one of their best friends.

“We can do this” Tony choked. “It’s gonna be horrible, but we’ve got to do it, and we will do it. We’ll do it together, like we’ve always done”

Loki held onto him tighter. He knew they’d have to find a way to move on from this. There was so much that needed doing, so much change they had to deal with. He didn’t want things to change: he’d been so happy with the way things were. But things had already changed, and they would continue to change - there were no two ways about it.

They had no choice but to get on with it.

Tony took a very deep breath and squeezed Loki’s hand tighter.

“Peter?”

Peter looked up at them with dull eyes. The last couple of weeks had shown a big change in the boy. For a couple of days after the funeral, he had been very loud and angry, but soon settled into a depression, spending more time in tears than out of them. He spent most of his time curled up on the sofa, staring into the distance with a sad, blank look on his face. He would have spent all day in bed if Loki didn’t insist on dragging him out of it. There was a lot of things he wouldn’t do if Loki and Tony didn’t get involved.

Loki and Tony had been trying hard. Tony had bought him a full wardrobes worth of new clothes, although most of them remained unworn, as Peter spent most of the time either in joggers and a t-shirt or his pyjamas. He’d also made sure he cooked good food for him every evening, and prepared lunch and breakfast for him, although most of it went uneaten. He didn’t really know what else to do. He’d sat with Peter and told him about his latest projects, and showed him future plans. Peter appeared to listen, and he looked at the blueprints and prototypes, but he said nothing. He kept showing them to him anyway, trying to keep him involved and get him interested. Peter was too sad to get excited about any of it. Tony held him when he cried and sang to him to stop himself from crying too.

Loki still felt like he didn’t know what he was doing. He took it upon himself to get Peter out of bed every morning, making sure he got dressed into something clean. He spent a lot of time reading to him and soothing his sobs, rocking him gently and lending him his pig to cuddle and his MP3 to listen to. He took Peter to the shops with him to get him out of the house, and every other day (with Tony’s help), he bathed the boy and washed his hair and put him to bed in clean bedding. Aside from that, he didn’t know what else he could do, so he just made sure he told him he loved him as often as possible.

“Peter, we’ve been talking” Tony said. “And we think- well, we think it’s time for you to go to school”

Peter didn’t say anything, but he cast his eyes down and clenched his fists under the blanket.

“It’ll be good for you, being with people your own age, having something to do - the schoolwork will keep you busy. And we don’t really want to neglect your education any longer”

Peter pressed his lips together. He didn’t feel ready.

“I know it’s a change, but you’ll soon get used to it. I know it’s a big step”

“We know you probably don’t feel ready” Loki said. “But if we wait until you do, you’ll never go. We think it’s time”

“We’ll walk with you, hand you over to the teacher on your first day. The headteacher told us we should. It’s not a long walk; only about ten minutes. You’ll be able to find your way back easily afterwards”

“When?” Peter said. His voice was small, quiet and almost expressionless.

“Monday”

Peter nodded. He knew this would come sooner or later. It was Friday today. They’d have a relatively normal day tomorrow - whatever normal was - and then they’d both fuss over him on Sunday, making him feel loved and special. It reminded him of one of the books Loki had read him, just before the orphans went back to the foundling hospital.

“This is the way the ladies ride...”

Loki and Tony exchanged a look. They knew what he was referencing. Tony had sat with them while that chapter was being read. Peter had cried and cried, pressing the pig over his mouth to quieten himself enough to hear Loki reading. Loki had cried a bit too (“This chapter always gets me”), and even Tony had teared up.

“We’re not sending you away” Tony said eventually. “You’ll just be at school during the day, same as always. And then back here afterwards”

Peter knew that, but hearing it didn’t help. He felt betrayed. He still hadn’t come to terms with the idea of starting a new school. It was the last thing he needed. It was just another unavoidable, painful reality of this new life.

Peter’s predictions about the weekend were correct. He couldn’t enjoy the attention: just like in the book, the hot chocolate soured in his mouth, and he had to fight incredibly hard not to cry. And, just like in the book, he waited until after he’d been put to bed to burst into tears. He cried privately for a long time, until he fell into a numb state of near-sleep.

Peter woke up feeling like he hadn’t slept at all. He stayed in bed, hoping Tony had changed his mind and he wouldn’t really have to go to school today.

No such luck.

He was dragged from his bed, washed and dressed and breakfasted in record time. He sat with Loki, pretending to drink his tea while Tony sorted out his school bag. He looked at Loki, hoping to convey just how much he didn’t want to go without having to actually say the words. Loki either didn’t realise, or chose not to notice.

All too soon, they were out of the door, walking in the direction of the school. Peter bit the inside of his cheeks hard. He felt sick.

Loki and Tony were true to their word, walking him there and handing him over to the right person. Peter’s eyes filled with tears when they had to go, and he hugged them tight. He knew it was a mistake as soon as he’d done it, because he heard people laughing. Once they’d left, Peter was given a timetable and escorted to his new form room.

“Here, this is your new boy” The head teacher said, pushing Peter into the room. “Peter Parker”

Peter felt thirty pairs of eyes turn to stare at him. He didn’t look back. The head left, and the form tutor half-smiled at him.

“I’m Ms Thea. Good to have you join us” she said. “Do you want to introduce yourself to the class?”

Peter shook his head.

Ms Thea shrugged. “Suit yourself. There’s a spare seat next to Jimmy”

Peter was forced to look up to find where his seat was. He reluctantly went and sat down. Jimmy shifted his chair over to the other side of the desk, as far away from Peter as possible. It didn’t go unnoticed, and a few of the other students sniggered. Peter ignored them, although his heart was thumping in his chest.

Tony had said it was a similar school to his old one. Peter wasn’t so sure. He’d noticed the faded paintwork, the peeling posters on the walls, the dirty floor... He felt out of place already. It wasn’t that he felt he was better than this - far from it - it was just obvious that he wasn’t supposed to be there. It had been made apparent that these kids weren’t going to welcome him in a hurry.

The bell rang, making Peter jump. A few people laughed, and they all rushed out into the corridors. Peter was suddenly alone. Even Ms Thea had disappeared with the rabble. For a moment he just sat there, his pulse beating in his ears. He looked down at the timetable he’d been given. He had Maths first, in room 4G. He had no idea what that meant. It didn’t seem to be an especially big school, and he hadn’t noticed any direction signs in reception. He turned over the timetable, hoping to find a map. It was blank. He stood up and left the room. He looked at the door. 3F. He didn’t know what that meant either.

Peter got lost very quickly. He tried to retrace his steps, but it was as though the building changed around him, and he couldn’t find anything he recognised. He stopped at the top of a flight of stairs. The hallways were quiet now, eerily so. He stared down at the timetable, as though reading the room number over and over again might give him more clues. It didn’t. He knuckled his eyes, but the tears filled his eyes again just as quickly as they’d been wiped away. He could feel himself shaking. He felt hot and shivery, and he had a tight feeling in his throat. He swallowed hard. He wasn’t going to cry, not here, not now.

He turned round, going through a door to his right. There was a sign outside one of the classrooms: 9G. He looked at his timetable again. He must be on the right track, surely. He followed the corridor down, keeping a close eye on the room numbers, and finally found 4G. He swallowed hard and pushed the door open. The teacher gave him a little wave.

“You’re the new boy, right? Sit there” he gestured to a seat on the front row.

Peter sat down, and jumped as the teacher slammed a grey workbook down on the desk in front of him. He jabbed at the cover with his pen, leaving dots of ink on the page.

“Your name there, then the class, and then my name at the bottom” the teacher said. “It’s Mr Jacobs”

Peter took out a pen and filled out the front obediently. His hand shook and the ink smudged a bit. Mr Jacobs didn’t seem to care.

“Have you ever done Pythagoras?”

Peter nodded.

“Good. Hey, Ryan, hand these worksheets out”

Ryan got up, barging Peter’s chair as he went up to the front and took the worksheets from Mr Jacobs, who sat down at the desk and started typing on his laptop. Peter glanced to his side. He was at the end of a row of four seats. There were two other people on the row. They’d moved up to leave a gap between themselves and Peter when he’d sat down. Peter looked down at his hands. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes again.

Ryan slammed a worksheet down on Peter’s desk, grinning triumphantly when he made him jump. The worksheet had been crumpled considerably. Peter glanced to his other side, and once he saw people had started working, he smoothed out the worksheet and looked at it. It didn’t seem to be anything too tricky. He glanced at the other people on his row, and the people on the next table. They all seemed to be copying the diagrams into their workbooks and then solving them there, not on the worksheet, so he did the same. He had a good understanding of the basics of Pythagoras, so he managed to get lost in his work for a while. He could hear everyone else in the room talking and laughing, but it soon blurred into incomprehensible background noise. He was working quickly, and he found himself feeling pleased about that.

“Lets see how far you’ve got” Mr Jacobs voice sounded, and he snatched Peter’s book from him.

Peter looked at the pen he was holding. It was double sided, green at one end, red at the other. Peter had never seen one like it. Mr Jacobs had the pen held with the red end down, ready to litter the pages of the workbook with angry red crosses. His expression didn’t change, but he slowly twirled the pen round, reading through Peter’s answers and marking the page. A minute or two later, he set the exercise book back in front of Peter, its pages dotted with green ticks.

“Good work” he said. “Keep it up”

Peter allowed himself to be proud of himself, just for a moment. He heard whispering behind him, and as he listened harder, he could hear they were talking about him - and none of what they were saying was complimentary. His good mood faltered, and dropped completely when something hit him hard on the temple. It landed on the desk, revealing itself to be a metal pencil sharpener. Mr Jacobs had been lingering by Peter’s desk, checking over someone else’s work. He stopped, picking up the pencil sharpener and throwing it hard in the direction it had come from.

“What have I told you lot about throwing things in my classroom?” he growled, turning back to the girl whose work he was looking over. “Amanda, how many times? Squared does not mean times by four-”

Peter looked at him. Mr Jacobs caught him looking, and winked at him. Peter decided he liked him.

The ring of the bell prompted the same quick clear out of the room as earlier. They had a break now, for twenty minutes. At first Peter thought he should try to tag along with someone so he wouldn’t get lost again, but after most people blanked him, some made comments obviously directed at him, and Ryan shoulder-barged him on the way out of the room, he decided it was probably better not to.

Peter wandered around on his own. It was amazing how quickly everyone disappeared and left a heavy silence in the air. The dim hallway blurred, and Peter had to swallow very hard to stop himself from crying.

He found a vending machine under a set of stairs. There were two boys in front of it, younger than he was, talking about how you could trick it into thinking you’d put $1 into it by using a button or two 2¢ pieces stuck together with blu-tack. Peter lingered for a moment, watching them, and was surprised to see their scam worked. Just then, the bell went, and the boys grabbed their ill-gotten gains and ran off.

Peter pulled out his timetable. History, in room 14S. He had no idea how to get to it.

Eventually Peter found 14S. The teacher didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen minutes late. The desks were pushed up against the walls, and the rest of the class were busy arranging all the chairs into a big circle.

“New boy?” he nodded. “Sit wherever today. I’ll assign you a seat when the room’s set up properly. Alright class, sit down now!!”

Peter sat down, and the people either side of him made a point of moving their own chairs a good metre away from his. He couldn’t help minding a lot. He clasped his hands in his lap and stared down at them, tears filling his eyes once again. His chest felt hot and tight, and his stomach kept squeezing. It felt like he’d been here for an eternity. He wanted to be back at the Stark’s, snuggled up in the reading nook with Loki reading to him. Truth be told, he wanted to be anywhere in the world, anywhere other than here.

Peter’s heart sunk as he saw what he had next. PE. He didn’t have any kit with him, and he didn’t feel like wearing lost property. Besides, Ryan had shoulder-barged him a number of times already. What if they had rugby or something like that? He had a feeling it wouldn’t be non-contact.

One benefit of PE was that he knew how to get to it. There was a second building at the school, with a big sign saying ‘Sports Hall’ on it. He found his way over to it, and was relieved to find that the gym and changing rooms were all over here too. He was still a few minutes late, but no one seemed to notice. One of the PE teachers came over to him.

“So you’re the new kid. I’m guessing you don’t have any kit with you?”

Peter shook his head.

“You can sit on the bench and keep an eye on the equipment trolley for today then”

Once everyone was changed, they went outside to the tennis courts. The trolley was set up by the back door of the sports hall, a good few metres from the courts. Peter spent the next forty-five minutes sat on the bench beside it, hoping that if anyone came close enough to see the tears in his eyes, that they’d think it was because of the cold, sharp wind, and not his emotions.

The lunch hour was similarly dull. The canteen was easy enough to find, but it was packed, and hot, and the smell of food made Peter feel sick. He hadn’t had much of an appetite recently. He’d been given lunch money, but he didn’t bother getting anything. He found a quiet corner by the late registration office, and sat on the floor out of sight, charging his phone and playing Tetris until the bell went again.

Peter completely lost his bearings. Every way he turned seemed to be something he hadn’t seen before. He kept tracing and retracing his steps, trying to find something familiar. The corridors were growing quiet, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop anyone to ask them. He pretended to be looking at his timetable, though he’d read ‘English, 1S’ at least a thousand times now.

He was nearly twenty minutes late to the lesson by the time he found the right room. He was tired and fed up, and just wanted to sit down now. He opened the door, and a woman with short black hair stood up, fuming.

“You!” she snapped, standing in front of her desk. “You’re the new kid, I take it? The one whose aunt died?”

Peter nodded slowly, shocked. Tony had told him the school had been made aware of his situation, but he didn’t expect people to actually mention it - let alone shout it out in front of a whole class of people. He felt sick again. He didn’t want people to know about May. His heart was beating like mad, and he was overcome with a sense of dread. He was hot and cold at the same time, shivering and sweating, and he had pins and needles in his fingers.

“Where the hell have you been?! And don’t you dare say you got lost, because I know full well your class were on this floor first thing this morning” she shouted.

Peter flinched, taking a step back, barely able to look at her. How could she have shouted about his aunt like that? How dare she let all these strangers know his business? It was so wrong.

“Answer me, you stupid boy!” the woman exploded. “How dare you turn up nearly half an hour late to my lesson, and without so much as a word of apology! You-”

Peter burst out crying. He’d expected the tears - he just hadn’t expected the sobs. He covered his mouth with both hands. The room had fallen silent, making his sobs sound louder than they were. He was mortified, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

“What on earth are you crying about? Lord give me strength!” she sighed in an exasperated fashion. “Get out of my classroom! Stand outside and I’ll have a word with you after class”

Peter didn’t need to be asked twice. She slammed the door behind him. Peter sank to the hallway floor, drawing his knees up to his chest and sobbing into his hands. He didn’t bother trying to stop: he knew any attempt would prove futile. He cried and cried, wishing he had the strength to run. He wanted to run and run and run some more, to find somewhere safe, somewhere that wasn’t here, somewhere where everything is ok again. He wanted Tony. No. No he didn’t. He wanted his aunt. He wanted May.

Peter dragged himself to his feet, leaning his back against the cold brick wall. He looked down at his shoes, breathing very deeply. The bell went. It was a minute or two before the classroom door opened and the class filed out. Ryan lead the way, grinning from ear to ear, a spiteful smile. He laughed in Peter’s face.

“How old are you? Imagine, crying like a baby just because you got told off!” he laughed. “You’ve been crying all day anyway, haven’t you? Crybaby”

Peter glanced at him, but otherwise didn’t react. Ryan scowled, annoyed that he wasn’t getting a reaction.

“Hey, are you deaf or something? I’m talking to you, crybaby. I said, I’m talking to you!” he shoved his shoulder.

Peter lifted his head. Ryan grinned. He went to shove him again, but Peter’s hand shot up, grabbing him by the wrist. All the hangers-on squealed, crowding closer, always eager at the slightest sign of conflict, lest a fight follow.

“What are you lot doing here?” the sound of the teachers voice made Peter let go of Ryan’s wrist, and him and the others slunk away. Once everyone had gone, the teacher looked at Peter. “Ok, Parker. I don’t stand for insolence, and I don’t stand for lateness. There’s no excuse. Now get out of my sight”

The last slot on the timetable read ‘LL, Library’. Mercifully, there were posters in the hallways promoting the library, and they had directions on them, so it was relatively easy to find.

LL turned out to stand for Library Lesson, and basically consisted of the class going to all corners of the library, spreading workbooks out, and holding reading books in their hands, pretending to work when the supervising teacher walked by, but in actuality, gossiping for the hour. The librarian saw Peter’s confused face and told him it was time for people to work on homework or their English projects, or to do some reading. Peter hadn’t been assigned any projects or homework, so that left one option. Or, it would have, but all the kinds of books he would have liked to read were on shelves near Ryan and his gang, or other people from his class who had made it very clear he wasn’t welcome. The only part of the library that wasn’t taken was an armchair by the bookcase closest to the librarians desk. Peter set his bag down and sat down. He looked at the bookcase. The books were mainly revision guides and audio books. He took his maths exercise book out of his bag and turned to the back page. He needed to look busy, he knew that. He wrote ‘478 x 729 = ?’ at the top of the page, and set about solving it with the grid method. He couldn’t concentrate. He wasn’t really that far away from the rest of the class, and he could hear them talking about him. He tried to block it out, but it was like they were talking directly into his ear. He seemed to have gained a nickname by way of ‘crybaby’, and it wasn’t the worst word they were using to describe him. He gripped his pen, leaning over his exercise book, trying to focus on the sum, but it just wasn’t working. He let his pen fall to the floor and covered his face with his hands as he began to cry again. People noticed, and some laughed, and most joked, but they did nothing more than that. They didn’t ask if he was ok. They didn’t go over to him.

They didn’t care.

Peter had shoved his stuff into his bag and stood up before the bell had even finished ringing. He thanked his lucky stars that the rest of his class were busy gossiping and waiting for their friends, so he got a good head start. He rushed out of the library, down the stairs, along the corridor, down another set of stairs, through reception, and out of the front door. He waited until he was out of the school gates and then sped up, running in the direction of the Stark’s as fast as his legs would carry him.

He made it home in just under five minutes. He burst into the house and ran straight to his room, slamming the door as hard as he could behind him. He tore his bag off his back, throwing it aside and throwing himself down on the bed. He buried his head in the pillow and howled.

#someone needs to stop me #my writing #fanfiction #mcu #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #frostiron #peter parker #spiderman homecoming

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dantediscoversfic · 7 years ago

Text

Chapter 27: Aurora

Paying a bus fare shouldn’t be the most challenging thing you have to complete in a day. But throw a broken arm into the mix and suddenly the whole world is an obstacle course called Formerly Trivial Tasks That Are Now As Daunting As Olympic Qualifiers.

I got on the bus, fished out a handful of coins from my pocket and tried to feed each coin one by one into the fare taker using just my thumb and pointer finger. Big mistake, since I’m apparently not as dexterous with my palm as fifteen years on the planet had led me to believe. The rest of the coins practically jumped out of my fist and scattered all over the bus floor, spinning noisily. I scrambled to pick them up, cursing under my breath, feeling my face flush from all the eyes I’m sure were boring into me. The passengers waiting to board barreled ahead of me and a man reached down to help me pick up the coins.

“It’s all right, I’ll get these,” the man said.

“Thanks,” I said. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right, it’s all right, just take a seat. I got this, sonny.”

“Ok, thanks.”

I handed him the coins I’d picked off the ground. The bus driver had already grown impatient and started driving away as the man paid the fare for me.

Normally I would have beelined it to the very back of the bus, where Ari and I normally sat, but I felt like I needed to stick around and thank the stranger again.

He sat down next to me and handed me back my spare change. “Thanks for your help,” I said.

“No problem, kid.” He looked me up and down. “What the hell happened to you, anyway?”

The man’s voice was a gritty foghorn. Like he’d been smoking cigarettes rolled with sandpaper since he was eleven. I was taken aback a little but I didn’t detect anything malicious behind his question, mostly curiosity.

“Traffic accident. I almost got hit by a car.”

“Well at least you’re alive to tell the tale. Where was the accident?”

“Over by Memorial Pool.”

“You like to swim?”

“Yeah.”

“Swimming’s good exercise. Just make sure you don’t accidentally drink any of that pool water though. You don’t know what sorts of bad stuff the government’s been pumping in there on top of all the germs and chlorine and kiddie piss. You could end up with tapeworm that eats your brain. Or worse.”

At this point I probably should have smiled and nodded and left it at that. Maybe pulled out a book so he would get the hint that I wasn’t in a chatty mood. But I took a look into the man’s face. He was probably in his forties but looked much older. His skin was weatherworn, cracked and brown like a creek bed during a drought. His eyes were startlingly blue beneath his bushy caterpillar eyebrows. His gray hair was thin, long and straggly and he had crumbs in his beard. He was missing a few teeth and his breath was wet and rank. Part of me wanted to recoil away from him. But he’d been kind to help me. I didn’t want to turn my back on him just because he gave off a definite oddball vibe and a not-so-great smell.

“Really?” I asked.

“Oh yeah. You think waterborne diseases just happen naturally? Part of God’s plan? No sir. ‘Don’t drink the water.’ Ever. Ya feel me?”

“I thought that mostly applied to travel in foreign countries? Since your body hasn’t acclimated to the native microbes in the water?”

“Native microbes! Native to what? Native to this spinning piece of dirt we call planet earth? Because I’ve got news for you there, too. They’ve been pumping stuff into the water for hundreds of years. And there ain’t no such thing as native. Ever hear of Aurora, Texas?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, you’ve heard of Roswell, right?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Aurora happened way before that but you never hear about it. I wonder why. Year is 1897. An April morning just like any other. Dawn breaks and a one Mr. Judge Proctor wakes up on account of a horrible crashing noise. Nearly has a heart attack. Thinks the world’s ending or war has broken out. Jumps out of bed, grabs his gun and tells his family to stay inside and lock all the doors. Looks across his field and sees his windmill’s on fire. Alerts the fire brigade, grabs buckets of water to put out the blaze and runs over to the windmill. There he gets the shock of his life. What do you think he sees?”

He looked at me with his wide excited eyes, waiting for me to take a guess. I could tell where his story was going, but I was totally drawn into his tale and wanted to hear him finish it.

“Um…had something crashed into his windmill?”

He slapped his knee so hard it made me jump. “You’re a smart one! What does he see but the crash remains of an extraterrestrial airship. But he doesn’t know that yet. All he sees is wood debris and heaps of metal and smoke. The windmill’s water tank is busted and spewing water everywhere, which is at least lucky since it helps put off the fire from spreading. Proctor and his men are running around, trying to keep the fire from taking out his entire field and what do you suppose he finds hidden under a piece of blasted metal?”

“Um…the pilot?”

“Damn right the pilot! Poor fellow was dead of course. Charred and burned like a piece of barbeque. But even all burnt up the townsfolk knew he wasn’t from this world. They found papers on him, all written in mumbo jumbo like you find in Egpyt and the Mayan temples. Except this wasn’t like any of those hieroglyphics anyone had ever seen before. Scientists and G-men got on the scene right quick. The ship’s metal was like nothing found on this planet either. What do you think happened next?”

“Um…did they take the pilot and the ship to study it?”

“You’d think. You’d think that when one of our brothers makes contact the scientists and whatnot would want to find out as much they can about what makes them such evolved superior beings. But humans are greedy bastards. And cowards. So instead of sending it in to be studied, they tried to hush the damn thing up. They buried the pilot and stuffed the remains of his ship down a sealed well. No follow-up, no nothing. Thing is, before the crash strange things kept happening in Aurora. Boll weevil infestations wiped out cotton crops. Fever sickness spread so the whole town was under quarantine. Fires took out half the town. No one realizing that what they tried to cover up could have helped the town if they’d only listened and tried to understand the pilot’s mission. Instead the water made everyone sicker.”

“But why would they have covered it up?”

“The government needs to keep us stupid and sick and compliant. Pigs in a pen. Ignorant to The Truth. We’re all pawns in their big game. Let me tell you something, kid. Everything you see, this bus, the bus driver, the road, that 7-Eleven. It’s all an illusion. You see it because that’s what they want you to see. But once you’ve got your eyes open. Once you’ve seen and felt and talked to our brothers you’ll understand that they’re just trying to help us. They’re trying to spring us from this prison. The government tries to keep our brothers a secret so ‘the public doesn’t panic’. What a crock of horsehit. It really comes down to keeping us at war and keeping us down while they get rich on oil money and military money and Big Pharma money. Our brothers have the technology and abilities to end global hunger and sickness and poverty. But that would hand over the government’s power to the people. And the filthy warmongers want to keep us down. Pigs in a pen. Once you’ve seen that, you can’t unsee it.”

I really didn’t know what else to say to that besides, “Ah.” I wondered what Ari would have thought of this man if he were sitting here next to me. He’d probably think he was a total whackjob and would have been skeptical of everything that came out of his mouth. But I couldn’t help but sort of liking the man, with his wide overly bright eyes and emphatic gestures.

“’There are more things between heaven and hell than any of us have witnessed.’ Except some of us have witnessed it.”

“You mean you’ve seen aliens?”

“I got my first visit when I was probably your age. Maybe a little younger. I was fourteen.”

“I’m fifteen.”

“Yeah, just about your age then.”

“What happened?”

“I was living in foster care at the time. Hated it. The family I’d been placed with was a bunch mean sadistic motherfuckers, all of them. Pardon my French. Wanted to kill myself. Tried to. But I didn’t because that’s when the brothers found me. Put their suckers on me and dipped my head in a silver liquid like I was being baptized. After that, they could talk to me in their language through my brain and I understood it. Even though to your average person it would sound like whale noises. High pitched squeals and clicks. But they could talk to me after that and I didn’t want to die anymore. I ran away from the family I was with and I’ve been on my own ever since. But not alone. The brothers let me know their plans sometimes. I’m lucky they trust me.”

“Wow.”

“They have plans. They’re trying to help. Here in El Paso, the ones who escaped from Roswell have been working on taking over the transportation system. But our metal is toxic to them. Their skin is so delicate. The fumes, too.”

“And you’re helping them?”

“When I can, yeah. Not so much for the transportation thing, that’s not really my area, but I’m their man on the inside for Big Pharma intel. I get terrible headaches from the suckers after they’ve mined me for knowledge. But that’s okay because afterwards I feel so much freer, more alive than ever. It’s an honor to help them. That’s why I’m headed to the clinic now. They need me.”

“I’m going to the hospital to see a friend of mine. He was also in the accident except his legs are broken.”

“I broke both my legs once. Motorcycle accident. Hit and run. I was left for dead on the side of the road. I would have died right there in a ditch if the brothers hadn’t found me and helped heal me up.”

“Wow. You’ve um…had quite an interesting life.”

“Interesting ain’t the half of it. Here’s my stop. Good luck, kid. Keep your eyes open.”

“Sure, yeah. I will.”

The man got off and hobbled off the bus. Something was definitely wrong with his legs, they were bent inwards toward each other at an off angle. I couldn’t help but imagine him on the side of the road after his motorcycle accident, getting healed by an otherworldly blue light, even though I knew it was impossible.

I kept thinking about the strange man until the bus arrived at my stop. I wanted to write down the story he’d told me so I could remember it and maybe make a painting out of it, but I wasn’t good enough with my left hand to write more than a few chicken scratch lines. Aurora. Contaminated Water. Pig pens. The truth. The list looked a little crazy. I tore the page out of my sketch book and stuffed it in my pocket.

I went up to Ari’s room at the hospital. My stomach cramped a little bit when I saw him in his bed, alone, staring out the window that overlooked a parking lot. He looked a little better than when I’d seen him the day he woke up, but not by much. I couldn’t help but imagine him motionless in the middle of the road.

“Don’t feel sorry for me,” he said. “The doctor said I was going to heal very nicely.”

“Very nicely?”

“That’s exactly what he said. So give me eight to ten or twelve weeks, and I’m going to be myself again. Not that being myself is such a great thing.”

That made me laugh. At least the car hadn’t knocked Ari’s self-deprecating humor out of him. But then I felt kind of bad for laughing. Hospitals really didn’t seem like the type of place for belly laughs. “Are you going to initiate a no-laughing rule?”

“Laughing is always good. Laughing works.”

“Good,” I said, relieved. If Ari and I couldn’t laugh together after what happened my heart would have well and truly broken.

I pulled up a chair next to his bed and took the books I’d brought out of my backpack. “I brought you reading material. The Grapes of Wrath and War and Peace.”

“Great,” he said. He didn’t sound overly enthused about the new summer reading syllabus I’d provided him.

“I could have brought you more flowers.” Every spare surface of the room was covered in get-well flowers. All the floral bouquets that would have been nice-smelling on their own combined to make a not-so-appealing mishmash of scents. But at least it covered up the underlying chalky hospital smell.

“I hate flowers.”

“Somehow I guessed that.”

He flipped through War and Peace in a desultory way. “They’re fucking long.”

“That’s the point.”

“Guess I have time.”

“Exactly.”

“So you’ve read them?”

“’Course I have.”

“’Course you have.”

I put the books on the little table next to his bed, next to a stack of get-well cards. My mom and dad had given him one and asked me if I’d wanted to sign it. I’d said no. There was no way I could have distilled all my feelings of regret and guilt and gratitude to him and written them out next to a few trite lines thought up by some random person who worked for Hallmark. But now I felt bad that I hadn’t gotten him a card. Everyone likes cards when they’re sick. Even Ari.

I took out my sketch pad. Another bout of nervous butterflies in my stomach, but I tried not to let it show.

“You’re going to sketch me in casts?”

Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have. Not unless he wanted a sketch of himself that looked like the handiwork of a preschooler.

“Nope. I just thought that maybe you’d want to look at some of my sketches.”

“Okay,” he said. He sounded about as excited at looking at my drawings as undergoing another round of surgery. I tried not to let that hurt my feelings.

“Don’t get too excited.”

“It’s not that. The pain comes and goes.”

“Does it hurt right now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you taking anything?”

“I’m trying not to. I hate the way whatever the hell they give me makes me feel.”

He pushed the button to move his bed more into a sitting position. I handed over the sketch pad and he was about to open it up when I stopped him, suddenly too embarrassed to let him look at them with me right there next to him.

“You can look at it after I leave.”

He looked at me, not sure what to say.

“You have rules. I have rules too.”

He laughed at that and only winced a little bit.

“Tell me about the people on the bus,” he said.

That I was happy to do. I told him about the strange man and the aliens he’d encountered. I wanted to tell the story right. Not like I was making fun of the man or thought he was totally crazy, which I’m pretty certain he was to some extent. But I wanted Ari to understand the spell the man’s words had cast on me. How this man’s ranting didn’t seem so scary or weird because he believed in a power that was good, a power that wanted to help us humans even if we didn’t deserve it. But I must not have been doing a very good job of telling the story because Ari’s eyes were unfocused and drifting the whole time. He’d have to have been there, I guess.

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lunaraen · 7 years ago

Note

“You’re so lucky that you’re so skinny! It must be so easy being you!” Possibly with the Ocelots before the Witherstorm, when they each have eating disorders of their own? Or post Sky City, when they're only skinny because of malnourishment? Which ever you're more comfortable writing!

They’ve all heard it.

“You’re so lucky that you’reso skinny! It must be so easy being you!”

Sometimes, it’s a compliment, ifa little backhanded and a little too naive for anybody’s tastes, and othertimes, it’s biting and sharp and given because somebody’s pushed a little toomuch, because Aiden’s teasing’s gone too far or Maya’s insults hit too close tohome or Gill’s picked on somebody a bit too much for their size, but no matterhow they hear it, or how it’s said, they’ve all heard it before.

And they are, they are just so,so skinny, skinny enough that their ribs are easy to count and even easier tofeel, bony enough that hugs are uncomfortable, cuddles are worse, and there aredays and days where all of them are lightheaded or sick to their empty stomachsand just try to ignore it.

Lukas thinks Gill’s more like him, doing it because the others do it, and Gill probably looks the healthiest out of all four of them, but that’s just because he’s got as much muscle as he does, enough to keep him from looking like a skeleton but not enough to hide that he’s scarily thin too, that if he didn’t have so much muscle he probably would be nothing but bones.

As for Maya and Aiden…

Aiden’s the only one who spendsmore time in front of a mirror than Lukas. Lukas doesn’t think it’s justbecause of his looks, though, because if there’s anything Aiden cares about more thanhis appearance it’s having total control over his appearance, but he can’t sayfor sure because Aiden doesn’t like talking about it, and no one talks about itwhen he goes to the restroom right after eating, about how much damage he mustbe doing to his throat, about how sick he must make himself.

It’s like how they don’t talkabout how they all know Maya hasn’t eaten when she says she has, when they’vebeen with her and they know she’s skipping another meal, when there are dayswhen he doesn’t think she eats anything.

It’s not healthy, it’s not good,but they’re the only friends he has and it’s what they want. It makes themhappy, and if he tries to take that away…

He brings it up, once. That maybethey could try eating normally, that everybody’s ribs are sticking out too far,that they’re going to get sicker and sicker, and for a few moments every worryhe has pours out of his mouth.

There’s a bit of silence.

And then there’s a bit of awkwardlaughing, and then it’s brushed off because of course they’re fine, they’re thebest they could be, they actually have self-control and aren’t overweight orfat, and Lukas really needs to come up with better jokes.

Lukas doesn’t bring it up again.

He’s scared about what mighthappen if they keep doing this to themselves, but he’s more scared of beingalone.

Maya hasn’t heard it since theBlaze Rods tried to take over Sky City, but in hindsight, with how hated theyare to begin with, it makes sense that she’d hear it again sooner or later.

And it’s almost said like acompliment, not as stinging as most insults are, not quite friendly but almost.

“You’re so lucky that you’reso skinny! It must be so easy being you!”

Maya reminds herself that Gill’snot here, he’s waiting at home, so she’s the only one who can stop her fromstrangling her fellow shopper.

She hasn’t said anything, hasn’tprovoked anyone, just happened to be walking by with her own groceries, and shewishes it was surprising that that’s enough for a random person to notice herand have to say something like everyone does.

But easy?

Easy being her, being here, beingthis skinny?

She’s in a different world, inthe only city known to exist with the only people known to live here, with noway of ever getting back home because she’s a criminal, because after beinggiven the bare minimum in jail and only barely being able to afford thatafterwards, she’s nothing but skin and bones and too weak to fight her wayhome, too weak to do much but work in the mines and get paid just enough foranother day.

And maybe what they both make wouldbe enough to support one person okay enough, but they’re taking care of two andneither of them is going to let the other go hungry.

It’s so tempting, so natural, tosay she’s already eaten, that she’ll just sit with Gill while he eats, but theycan’t begin to have that luxury anymore, the ability to just eat food wheneverthey feel like it or the ability to ignore that food by pretending to havealready eaten, and they both know it.

Gill would worry more, know whatshe was trying to do, would insist she ate all of the meal herself, and thatwould be counterproductive to everything and anything she’s been aiming forsince they got here.

At least when she pushes foodaround, makes it look like she’s had more than she has, Gill just gives her alook and eats his meal. At least then, he knows she’s eating, even if he knowsshe slipped him more, and he’ll eat his own meal.

It’s something, but it’s anythingbut easy.

And Maya wants to grab her by thecollar of her pretty little shirt, looking brand new and well cared for likeshe doesn’t have to scrounge money and resources to pay for food and living atthe expense of everything else, and punch her in her pretty little face, wantsto kick her in the gut until she realizes how not very easy it’s been for the mosthated people in the world, but getting arrested would mean trouble for her,trouble for Gill, trouble they’d have to make up for in one way or another andshe needs to get this food home now so they can have dinner.

So she just smiles and takes itas a compliment.

#My Stuff #fanfiction #mcsm #minecraft story mode #warning heckmouth

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allthebeautifulthings9828 · 8 years ago

Text

Mary’s Kitchen - Chapter 22

(Note: This story is the sequel to Cas, You Had A Baby? which can be read on Tumblr or on Ao3. And you can keep up with Mary’s Kitchen on Tumblr or on Ao3 too.)

Tension thrummed through the new building's walls no matter where Castiel went. He eyed the human occupants, wondering if they felt it too. While they remained fixated on their children laid out in individual toddler beds evenly spaced through the ground floor, he pushed himself to focus on the bigger picture. The fledgling nest was in good hands under the care of Arturial and Sholitziel. It was his duty to find a solution, to find a cure, which he knew only came from getting The Order of the Fiery Sword off their backs.

Arturial and Sholitziel had moved quickly, he reflected, once Dean agreed to moving the nest away from Bobby's place. The two angel medics located an abandoned building in the wilderness ten miles west of Sioux Falls and converted it to a temporary quarantine facility for the sick. Upon entering the refurbished building, accomplished with the power of angelic grace, a person was prompted to put their coats on wall hooks and thoroughly wash up to their elbows in a pair of stainless steel sinks. People passed into the next room, much larger, featuring three toddler beds against one wall and three more against the opposite wall. An enormous rectangular table in the middle of the room provided people and angels alike with a place to consult books or maps while watching over six little patients. Taking the back stairs led a visitor to an identical room on the floor above where human patients were housed - so far only Molly and a few people who lived in her building. They were without a doubt much sicker than the fledglings without the benefit of internal grace.

"Find anything yet?" Sam asked, leaning over the work table.

"Nothing but an exemplary service record," replied Castiel with a dejected sigh. "There is no sign of why or how my sister got involved with The Order."

"Maybe the how or why doesn't matter."

Castiel glanced at Sam in the shadows brought on by nighttime. "I suppose that could be true."

"I only mean maybe it doesn't matter in the long run, you know, trying to stop The Order from spreading this influenza. I know it matters to you personally. It'd eat away at me."

"The key can't be with Limaneal. It has to be the leader, Claudiel." As he spoke, Castiel snapped shut the blue leather record book passed along from Gabriel days before. He wished Sam or Dean could read Enochian and help him review everything, not that anyone could pry Dean away from James' bedside. "I believe it'll soon be time to take a trip to Chicago. The truth is we aren't going to accomplish anything until we face the enemy head on."

"Are we ready for The Order to be so aware of what we know yet?" asked Sam. He pulled out a chair and flopped into it, limbs splayed in exhaustion.

"I don't know."

Dean's rough voice spoke up from the back corner by James' bed. "I'm ready to kick some ass."

It was difficult to ignore the red blazing condition of Dean's soul but Castiel avoided getting sucked into his blind rage. One of them had to maintain some semblance of an equilibrium instead of running into the night with their guns drawn and no real clue of what they faced. He felt Demiel's eyes on him from the front of the room as well. She, at least, had the sort of combat training that kept her boiling temper from spilling over the pot out of control. All of them craved the release that came with allowing grace rage to control them. Castiel included. Every time he watched Arturial or Sholitziel clean ruptured pustuals on James' arm and the new ones on his little chest, he fantasized about smiting The Order on his own. He'd take it slow and enjoy the sensation of their graces draining away.

"If we kill them too soon, we won't know what to do about this influenza," said Castiel as if all of them had been listening to his thoughts.

"The only way they'll give us the cure or whatever is if we agree to give our kids back to the winged dicks upstairs. I'm not giving my boy to a bunch of harp players ready to brainwash him five seconds after they get up there. No son of mine is gonna be raised to see people as animals beneath his dignity. I'd rather let him--."

Each of them knew what Dean was ready to say. The hum of voices and footsteps upstairs even paused as if the rest of the nest wondered if he'd actually say it out loud. Dean would rather let his boy die than see him in the hands of the old regime who still clung to the vision of God's obedient Heaven before Gabriel became king. And although he didn't voice it, Castiel found himself debating whether he too would rather see James dead than raised in blind obedience the way he had been raised. He couldn't entirely reject the most awful scenario. That was dangerous in itself.

Pushing himself up from the table, Castiel made his way to Dean and laid hands over his shoulders. He rubbed their breadth as both of them peered down at their fledgling lying in the little bed. A guinea pig wheel squeaked on the wall shelf behind them, breaking the tense silence. That was Dean's idea. He thought bringing the guinea pigs from home would give the nest a sense of familiarity.

"Sorry. I didn't mean that," whispered Dean hoarsely. He reached up to caress Castiel's hand on his shoulder. The rocking chair he occupied began to move in faint nervous bursts.

"No one believes you did," Castiel replied.

"I want their hearts on silver platters," Dean snarled after a moment.

In his gentlest manner, Castiel bent down and looped his arms around Dean's shoulders to speak in soft, private tones. "As do I," he admitted, "but we can't kill Claudiel only to make him a martyr to those in rebellion. He's holding an innocent soul hostage."

"Jeremy Batt."

"Yes," said Castiel, "and we're under orders not to kill. At least not yet. Gabriel doesn't want his reign marred by executing angels the way the old regime did."

With a scoff, Dean shook his head. "He's not my king."

"But he is mine. Your son's too."

Dean's jaw clenched. His profile turned severe as the dim light deepened the hollow appearance around his eyes. Since the sick couldn't tolerate the brightness provided by sunlight or electricity, Arturial and Sholitziel fitted the temporary quarantine building with wall-mounted oil lamps. It gave the building a chilling isolated sensation at night the way Castiel imagined it must have been like during the Spanish Flu pandemic during the first World War.

"I want you to call Gabriel here," said Dean.

At first, Castiel couldn't think of a way to answer him.

"I'm serious, Cas," he went on. "If he's the King of Heaven now, he'll know what to do about this influenza crap. You call him here and you make him fix our boy. Make him fix Molly before her body loses the kid we haven't even met yet."

"Dean, I--."

Bursting upright, Dean shook off Castiel's arms and stalked around James' bed with an accusing arm pointed at the little child. "Cas, you won't make me a father and then stand there with your thumb up your ass while my kids die right in front of me!"

"They're my kids too!" Castiel shouted with an unexpected wave of ferocity.

That was Sam's cue, it seemed. He emerged from the shadows across the room and placed himself at the end of James' bed exactly between his two parents. "Guys, not here," he said in a low voice.

Demiel, carrying the sleeping form of Evelyn in her arms, slid into the battle beside Sam but she lacked his compassion. She stared Castiel down through exhausted dark eyes, and then shifted her focus to Dean. "We're all at risk here. It's not just about you two," she spat. "I don't think there's a body in this building right now who expected to be part of a nest and raising fledgling angels but we're here and this is the problem at hand."

"We're sitting here wasting time when he's got a direct line to the throne!" Dean barked.

"Enough!" Demiel hissed. "Pointing fingers and sniping at each other isn't going to help our young. Most of them might be in deep feverish sleep but don't think for a second that they can't feel it when we start turning on each other. Grow up and stop acting like you're the only ones in anguish here."

Maybe it was the hard tone Demiel used or maybe it was the way she made her point but Castiel swallowed back his own accusatory tone. When he saw Dean's pointed hand drop to his side a few moments later, he knew she'd succeeded at dismantling the bomb. At least for the moment. Dean had a habit of picking fights with Castiel or Sam to let off steam in high-pressure situations.

It was the last thing he wanted to do but Castiel knew Dean was right. He had to go call for Gabriel now that the stakes were so much higher. Perhaps Gabriel knew of a cure for the mutated influenza and they wouldn't have to try and negotiate with The Order of the Fiery Sword after all. A gnawing sensation in the pit of his vessel's stomach suggested that wasn't the case. Still, he had to try before Molly or one of the other humans upstairs died. And down there on the ground floor, it was only a matter of time before the influenza completely drained away the immature graces in the fledglings' little bodies. Once that happened, according to Arturial and Sholitziel, the little ones would be mortal and the disease would eat away at their flesh and blood bodies in a matter of days.

"All right," he whispered. Being plagued by indecision had to stop.

Castiel bent over the bed and slid his ring finger into James' limp hand. "Daddy's going to get help," he told the sleeping child as he smoothed back damp hair from his feverish brow. There he noticed the glimmer of purple infection just beneath the skin, ready to burst. "DD's going to be here with you. We won't leave you alone. Hold onto my voice, James. Hold onto DD's voice. We love you very much and we're going to get the medicine to make you feel better. I promise."

On the other side of the bed, Dean leaned over with him. "I'm right here, buddy."

Castiel lifted the hair from James' forehead again and gave Dean a pointed look. He didn't want to announce the approaching rupture of another pustule in case the fledgling could indeed hear their voices while he slept.

"I'll watch it," answered Dean grimly with a sharp nod.

"I'll be back as soon as I know something," Castiel said in a tone that left no room for discussion.

Looking back would have been too hard. Seeing the scope of six beds all dependent on him for survival would have brought back the paralysis of indecision. Castiel squeezed Dean's hand in passing, unable to even trust his courage for a kiss or a simple embrace no matter how much he needed it. He considered calling for Hetanel but didn't do it in the end. Facing Gabriel when the anger still flared in his gut put him in uncharted territory. He wanted no witnesses to the possibility of having to set aside his pride to beg the King of Heaven to help his nest. It didn't matter that Gabriel never told Castiel there was a sister out there, nor did it matter that such a sister probably played a role in reprogramming him at some point. James mattered. His unborn child mattered. The nest mattered. Innocent human lives mattered. Leaving the quarantine building felt like walking to his own execution. As much as he hated himself for being that dramatic, he realized it amounted to the developing human emotions within - pride, jealousy, anger, sorrow. Castiel the angel achieved the darkest parts of humanity.

He walked for an hour. He pushed aside branches drooping low from trees dripping with recent rainfall. Not much of South Dakota was wooded but Arturial and Sholitziel managed to find an area shrouded by trees, which made it difficult for angels in flight to spot life on the ground. When Castiel's boots sloshed through a shallow creek, he gave it no mind. The balmy air of summer swept up from the south, making nighttime warm enough to hike without jackets in spite of being close to Canada. Moonlight dappled the narrow deer path ahead, although Castiel's angel vision didn't need extra light. He forced his vessel's pupils open wide the way a cat drew in light to move seamlessly in the dark.

The woods opened into a narrow meadow bordered by another branch of the creek he'd just crossed. It was as good a place as any, he decided. The risk of being overheard by The Order occurred to him as he stepped into the center of the meadow but he was armed and so were the angels left in the quarantine building. Under Demiel's leadership, they wouldn't breach the warding defenses she'd put in place. Chances were higher that they had no idea where Castiel had hidden the nest anyway.

A deep breath fortified Castiel's vessel but it didn't silence the prideful voice inside from going bitter toward asking Gabriel for help. His nest needed him though. As long as he kept the image of his feverish fledgling close to the surface of his thoughts, he could do it.

Castiel sank to his knees in the wet grass. Rain soaked through his jeans but that was the most common way he'd seen humans pray before he lived among them. Suddenly he wished Molly was well enough to be there with him since she was the most religious human he knew. She would know how to do it, how to make that connection with the celestial unknown. With his hands pressed together, he considered what to say.

"Gabriel....." he began with a halting sound at the back of his throat. "Um... Gabriel. I'm praying to the archangel Gabriel for help with my sick child. Please come to me and ... uh ... give me your divine guidance in our time of need." The prayer sounded ridiculous and he didn't feel like he was making any kind of connection to the divine. He began to understand what Dean saw in Molly's faith - emptiness and lack of reward. Human faith was never something he thought about in depth and he couldn't understand how their prayers ever reached his ears. But then he thought about all the times Dean prayed to him. He'd felt the hunter's faith, hadn't he? And there was nothing special in what Dean said - no magic words or antiquated biblical language. Castiel started again. "Gabriel it's me. It's ... Bean. I'm down here lost with a lot of sickness on my hands and I don't know what to do. It's going to get worse if I don't stop it. I need help. I need you." He swallowed hard as if blocking the words from creeping back down his throat. "Amen, I guess. Amen."

After a moment of silence and his sharp hearing trained on the smallest wilderness sounds, Castiel opened one eye and then the other. He didn't see anything different about the meadow. It didn't seem to work, he thought, arms dropping at his sides. Dejection began to fill his thoughts as he pulled himself off the ground again. Of course he could do a summoning spell on Gabriel but any kind of magic would have attracted The Order's attention. Prayer was the most clandestine way to go about it. But a summoning might be necessary in any event. He sighed, thinking of how much time he'd waste going back to his home where The Order thought he was so he could do the summoning there without leading them to the nest's hiding place. They were depending on him.

He swept the wet grass from his legs and turned, ready to retrace his steps and not at all ready to tell Dean the attempt failed. In the distance, just inside the tree line, a column of white skin glowed in a shaft of moonlight. Castiel stopped, startled at first, but then his heart beat faster when he made out the shapes of enormous wings arching high over the man's head. Familiar wings. Gabriel's wings.

Once he was sure it wasn't an illusion created to trap him, Castiel approached. He still had no idea what to say and the lack of a smile or an easy joke from Gabriel had him somewhat unnerved. Humor was such an intrinsic part of Gabriel's being that seeing him there looking back at him through such still features jolted Castiel into unfamiliar territory. He was used to being overly practical. It always fell on him to make up for Gabriel's inability to be serious when he was a young angel under the archangel's care. He'd been obedient and pleasing where Gabriel had been jovial and ridiculous. Now facing a celestial monarch in the dark of night who bore the weight of unexpected responsibility left Castiel second-guessing the father figure he thought he knew so well. Perhaps Gabriel absorbed more than he let on during Castiel's youth. Perhaps his flippant attitude was always a mask covering something much deeper.

"I think this is a first for us," said Gabriel when Castiel got close enough for them to speak without raising their voices too much.

"How do you mean?"

"You've never prayed to me before, Bean."

"I've never prayed to anyone before," Castiel admitted. He glanced around the woods. "Did you come here without your guard?"

"Yep."

Castiel slid his eyes back to Gabriel and studied the strain in his features. "The crown is getting heavy, isn't it?"

"They won't be happy I left without telling anybody." Gabriel shrugged. "My kid needs me. Whattya gonna do?"

A noncommittal hum rolled around Castiel's throat as he took measure of the archangel who raised him. Every cell in his being wanted to hate and spit and cry out at the injustice of the secrets between them piling up like bricks forming a wall. An abandoned fledgling was no laughing matter, just as it was among human children. He'd had a sister. There was another the entire time - someone he could have bonded with after Gabriel disappeared. But the trickster had robbed him of that too. The facts cycled through his mind over and over again until he clenched his fists at his sides and fed off the anger. Resenting Gabriel meant he wouldn't have to be abandoned again.

"Focus, Bean. Right here." Gabriel snapped his fingers. "You need my help. What's happening?"

Castiel took a breath and shifted his focus from resentment to his child's face. "The Order has brought disease to my nest."

"Disease?" Gabriel's eyebrow arched.

"Well, you ought to know about it. Limaneal stole samples of the mutated influenza from Heaven. Don't you remember?"

The skeptical eyebrow fell and Gabriel's eyes clouded. "I didn't know it was her. I didn't think the theft was related to this rebellion. The influenza was stolen almost a year ago."

"They've been biding their time, it seems."

"Your whole nest is sick?"

Castiel nodded. "Every last fledgling. Several humans have been infected as well. One or more of them specifically targeted Molly. We have her with the other infected ones in a quarantined building to keep the thing contained. It's an hour's walk from here."

Some time passed as Gabriel turned it over in his mind. He said nothing for a drawn out period until the silence nearly drove Castiel insane.

"What should I do?" Gabriel finally asked.

"You're asking me?" Castiel blasted back. "You're the King of Heaven! You're supposed to be my father! I prayed to you and brought you here even though I'd rather punch you in the throat because my nest is in deeper trouble than I can understand, and you ask me what you should do? Be a father! Be a grandfather! Be a king! Assert your power and say no more! Fix my family before I lose them!"

"I don't know how!" shouted Gabriel, cutting him off. "I can heal a sick human but I don't know how to heal an infected angel! No one does! The ones who knew are long dead thanks to dear old Dad and big brother Lucifer!"

The ground seemed to drop out from under Castiel as he stood there looking into the mystery of raw fear in an archangel. He never counted on Gabriel being utterly uneducated in the mutated influenza or any other problem Castiel might have laid at his feet. It was at that moment that he realized he did in fact look up to Gabriel the whole time, even in the centuries of silence. He truly thought if something dire occurred, Gabriel would know what to do. Every father was supposed to have all the answers. But Castiel was a father now too and he didn't know what to do either.

Scrubbing a hand over his face revived him enough to say, "You know how to heal a sick human. I tried but I'm not powerful enough. Let's start there. You can try to help Molly and the baby. There are other humans too. People who were living in her building. The Order released the disease into the water pipes."

"I--."

"--Gabriel, I'm begging you. Please come. Try. Just don't run away this time. You owe me that much. You owe James and my unborn child that much."

*****

Oil lamplight flickered on whitewashed walls as Sam cradled Noah in his arms. They all said Noah hadn't developed as fast as the other fledglings - whatever that meant - but now Sam was worried being behind schedule might spell out the little guy's demise. His weary eyelids felt like sandpaper every time he blinked but he didn't want to fall asleep until an angel came to relieve him. Noah had been crying every time they put him in bed. He wanted the warmth of a body in spite of his high fever.

"I was a little guy too," Sam whispered to the fledgling asleep against his chest. "Kids at school used to pick on me and beat me up sometimes but my brother always took care of it. I grew up to be bigger than him. Maybe you'll grow up to be bigger than all of your cousins too."

A breeze carried the scent of rain into the quarantine building, making the flames flicker against their wall sconces. Sam pulled his attention away from Noah and narrowed his eyes at the room and trained his ears on the smallest disturbances. They were well hidden. Castiel had assured him of that when the medic angels refurbished the building with just the power of their graces. Still, he was worried. Hadn't Castiel drilled it into their heads before that using grace left traces on the atmosphere that other angels could detect? He adjusted the quilt around the little bundle in his arms as if it would shield him from danger. The open windows allowed fresh air into their little makeshift hospital but they left Sam feeling insecure and unprotected. But when Demiel and Hetanel didn't stir from their rocking chairs, he began to relax a little. Across the room, Dean had fallen asleep while holding James' hand. He didn't dare make a sound. Dean hadn't slept since the influenza struck.

Sam needed to stretch his legs or he'd soon be asleep too. He slid Noah back into his little bed as carefully as he could without causing him enough pain to wake him. When Demiel met his eyes, he pointed to the floor above and she nodded.

The back stairs had been there since the building was constructed. Absent thoughts about its history flitted through his mind, pointing to its scattered and distracted state. Carrying sick people up to the second floor over such a steep nineteenth century stairwell had been rather difficult but the angel medics had insisted on keeping the angels and humans separated. Arturial and Sholitziel seemed to have taken charge of the entire nest since they had arrived the night before but no one had questioned it. If Castiel trustee them, Sam supposed he should trust them too, but his nerves were wrung out with so much sickness around him. He needed to get his hands on the rebellious angels responsible for infecting their children. He needed to break some necks. How dare they think they could do something so horrendous to innocent children?

Upstairs, much the same scene greeted Sam as below. The faint odor of feverish sweat seemed stronger from the grown humans than the little ones downstairs. He spotted Arturial and Sholitziel each leaning over Molly's bed.

"What's happening?" Sam asked quietly as he approached.

"We're trying to keep the fever down since she's pregnant," said Arturial as he draped a wet rag over her chest. She. Castiel had said something about that angel preferring to be a female. She spoke again. "The fetus is safe so far. It's simply a chore keeping the fever under control since a gestating human cannot take most medications. We're doing it the old way with cold rags to draw it down slowly as to avoid shocking her system."

"You can't heal any of these people with your angel powers?" asked Sam dubiously.

Sholitziel picked up the questions. "No. It's the same mutated virus as the fledglings have downstairs. It was designed to resist healing by grace. We believe the part that attacks angelic grace actually attacks the central nervous system in humans. I'm conducting tests. But do tell Castiel and his human that the gestating woman is safe for now. She appears quite ill, of course, but we are preventing her condition from worsening."

"Dean. Cas' husband is named Dean. And this is Molly. She's carrying a child so they could have a family," said Sam in a darkened tone. He hated the way angels reduced humans to mere animals even when they were trying to be helpful.

"Yes, of course."

As they spoke, Molly began tossing her head from side to side on her sweat-soaked pillow. Dark hair stuck to her forehead and cheeks in matted clumps. In spite of the pregnant swell of her belly, she looked wasted in the face with hollow cheeks and eyes rimmed in dark shadows. A weak arm reached out to Sam. He grasped her hand and leaned down so she could see him in the dim room.

"Dean?"

"No, darlin. It's Sam. I'm his brother, remember?"

Molly nodded faintly. "The baby...."

"The baby's all right," Sam assured. "You will be too. We've got good doctors looking after you and you're in a safe place."

"There were people," she said as if she hadn't heard him. "I saw strangers in the basement when I took my laundry to the machines. I couldn't make sense of why they were wearing hooded capes. Black hoods." Molly paused to work the muscles in her throat into a swallowing motion. "Castiel - he told me. Told me what he is. Told me to be careful. I was afraid of the hoods."

Sam held her hand. "Did they say anything?"

"No. Not to me. They spoke a different language. I tried to leave. Turned around and hurried. Door slammed shut without people touching it." Molly's forehead creased as her fear resurfaced. She began to wheeze as her breathing grew rapid. "Told me .... they told me to get away. Angels in town are evil. They spread pestilence among people. God isn't here anymore, they said. Couldn't imagine Cas being evil. I said so. One of them got angry and struck my face. That was a woman. The other one got antsy like her hitting me wasn't supposed to happen. Then they disappeared. Just like that. Gone. By nighttime I was sick. Why would they try to convince me angels are evil?"

"Well, there's a rebellion going on in Heaven right now and Cas is trying to stop it," replied Sam, measuring his words carefully.

"Like when Lucifer fell?"

"Something like that."

"Dear God," Molly whispered. Her eyes rolled back and she shut her eyes, overcome by fatigue.

"Don't worry. You're safe here." As Sam spoke in soft tones, he smoothed back her hair. She was carrying his niece or nephew. That made her family in his eyes. "We won't let anything happen to you. Just rest now. I gotta tell Dean what you saw but I'm only going downstairs. These guys here are doctors. They're taking good care of you. I'm sure Dean will be up to see you after you've slept some more."

With a quick nod to Arturial and Sholitziel, he retreated to the back stairs again. There wasn't much valuable information in Molly's story but it pointed to direct anger at Castiel for some imagined slight. If Molly could describe what the angels looked like, that would help a lot.

"Dean?" he said as he came down the stairs. "Dean, I just talked to Molly. She was awake for a minute."

The older Winchester brother blinked away the sleepiness from his brain and sat upright in the rocking chair. "What?" He directed the question at Sam but his eyes darted to the fledgling lying bandaged in the bed at his side.

"She saw a couple of the angels who did this," Sam said.

Before Sam had a chance to explain himself, the door at the front of the building flew open and shut. Two sets of footsteps and low murmurings drew Sam's attention from his brother. Both of them charged toward the front room ready to fight whoever entered their hiding place. There stood Castiel and Gabriel each washing their hands at the stainless steel sinks. Stunned, Sam felt his jaw hang open while Dean reached for Castiel and embraced him from the side. They weren't much for affection in front of other people but Castiel nuzzles him back, of course, without touching him with newly washed hands.

"I convinced him to try and help," Castiel said.

Both Winchester brothers peered at Gabriel as he dried his hands on a paper towel.

"Try being the word of the day," the King of Heaven said. "Show me where the pregnant lady is. I'll start there."

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #castiel #sam winchester

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vesperlionheart · 8 years ago

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Pompeii Chapter 21

After the Goblin Market Sakura was surprised she was as tired as she was. Ino had told her that might happen, some people got sicker than others, and first timers were especially susceptible to the extra drain Sakura was feeling. She sank into the flush of her couch and let her body sink. It had been hard to keep up with Ino and hide how drained she really was. Ino already felt bad about being absent minded on a few things, Sakura didn’t want to make her friend feel worse about anything else.

‘But aren’t you going to be doing that eventually? You’re such a vapor in comparison to them, smoke in the wind. Their childhoods are longer than our entire lifespan.’

Sakura looked up and blinked. There was no one in the room with her but she knew the voice in her head had no physical body. She sometimes imagined it as a black and white reverse image of herself. It helped to get on top of her depression when her suggestive thoughts had a body.

‘That doesn’t change anything. I’ve not been dishonest with anyone, I’ve never lied to any of them. I can’t change what’s going to happen to me. I’ll age, that’s inevitable.” Sakura focused on the visualization of her thoughts and glared harder. ‘I’m not going to worry about it.’

The black and white reverse image of Sakura shrugged. ‘You’re well loved, but that’s only because you’re so new, you’re an oddity. It’s not because of you. It’s not really about you. You’re just a thing for them to play with; a doll.’

Sakura swallowed and felt for the fabric of her pants, the rough material, the end of her shirt, the skin of her opposite wrists. She smelled the dust and the wood in her home. The old candles still had a lingering scent she could identify. She was in her home and she was safe.

‘I know my own worth and it’s not dependent on anyone else’s attention or interest. I know my worth and it has not diminished.” She remembered the attention and the flattering memories and stepped on top of them. “I can’t control what anyone else thinks or does, but I am my own person with my own worth.’

‘You’re sort of a terrible doctor for this town. You don’t know anything about half these-‘

“That’s enough!” Sakura said out loud.

The image in front of her staggered, flickered, and vanished. She hadn’t been a ghost or a haunting spirit or something magical or supernatural. She didn’t burn up in a blaze of fire or break apart in a ring of salt. She was a symptom of something natural that Sakura wasn’t ashamed to admit to anymore.

She had always had issues with feelings of self worth, stemming back to when she was a child too eager to please in a classroom with too many kids, in a family with too little time, in a relationship with too little love. But, she was a doctor and she had a name for what she fought. This didn’t make her broken and this didn’t make her any less of a person. Sakura knew her worth. She knew she was better than her worst thoughts and that it wasn’t any good dwelling on her basic fears. She would save her energies for other battles. Battles with curses and dark magics and things in the woods that didn’t like her for some odd reason.

Sakura sagged down in her seat and felt with her hand for the paper her dreamcatcher had been wrapped with. She heard the crackle before she saw it. Lazy as a housefly, she shifted in her seat and pulled the paper onto her lap and started to tug at the tape. It came away easy enough. The small sounds in the still of her room made the back of her neck tingle. She felt like there was a nest at the base of her brain behind her head that turned happy at the small sounds.

She had burned out all the way like a candle on a stick.

Sakura turned into the couch and hugged the dream catcher to her chest, too tired to hang it. Regardless, her dreams were free of nightmares. Sakura slept soundly through the night for the first time in a long time.

“It’s super fun when we have to treat people who don’t want to be treated,” Sakura sighed with a smile as she sagged down onto the arm of Shizune’s chair. Through the window she watched the fire dwarf stride away with a haughty sort of waddle. Sakura’s grin thinned.

“You should have seen him before with the other doctors. He seemed to like you.”

Sakura snickered. “I ended up yelling at him and he cussed me out more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Shizune chuckled. “That’s how they talk to everyone. But at least he paid. He wouldn’t have done that upfront if he didn’t respect you.” She punched Sakura’s shoulder lightly. “Cheer up, you’re doing great.”

Sakura shook her head. “And to think, when I first got here I was more worried about my bedside manner. I was sort of stiff and thought that would be an issue outside of the city. But now…I just worry about a lot of other different things.”

“You shouldn’t. You’re doing fine. You’re doing better than fine, everyone loves you!”

Sakura thinned her lips and narrowed her eyes in a disbelieving way.

The conversation broke with a cry from the doorway closest to the main street. Sakura sat up in her seat, wondering if the sound was meant for her office or the dentist’s office next door. They shared a walkway on the main street entrance and were close enough that they could hear each other on occasions.

“I think that’s next door.” Shizune stood up however and held a hand up to her chin, listening harder. “Oh.”

“What?”

Shizune shook her head. “I’m pretty sure that’s for next door, but I don’t know how they’ll manage with the way he’s carrying on. Ino’s with him, so they should be okay…”

Sakura started trotting towards the door and reached for it, peeking out and seeing a tussle between three people on the sidewalk. She had to blink because two people looked like clones of each other. Ino and Kimimaro were easy enough to pick out, but there was a third member that looked way too much like Ino for it to be a coincidence. Both had long blond hair pulled up in ponytails and wide blue eyes…or eye? She only saw one on the man.

“I already told you I’m not going in there. I don’t trust him!”

“You have to,” Ino hissed back. “You’re sick!”

The dentist was struggling to help the pair inside but didn’t say anything until Ino slipped. He moved to catch her and the male started to slip free. He took a few steps and then staggered, clutching his wrist. Sakura saw this and started trotting down the steps to help him. His hand was bandaged and seeping red.

“You’re hurt.”

He glared up at her, wincing in pain. “No shit lady, what are you, some sorta doctor, un?”

Sakura didn’t recognize him but realized this was because they had never met. It was something that made her pause and blink. “Yeah, I’m the new doctor here. You need a doctor?”

The male stilled and looked up at her, almost not believing her. But then Ino came up alongside him and grabbed him in a big bear hug that was more of a grapple.

“Sakura, don’t let him get away!” Ino called before completing her grapple. “Get back here Deidara! You need to see someone about this.”

“I’m not going to that damn dentist I’m going to see this doctor!” The blond struggles, but was still in pain by the way he held his bandaged, bleeding hand.

Sakura looked up at Kimimaro who looked more haggard than anything. He shot her a pleading look that she understood. Both had taken oaths to do their best and help to the best of their ability and do no harm.

“Come inside, Ino bring him, I’ll see what I can do.”

Sakura waved them both in and to her great relief they both complied without issue. Kimimaro trailed behind them and paused next to Sakura.

“You’ll need my help in there to know what to do, but will you treat him? There was an incident several decades ago and he doesn’t like me very much.”

Sakura didn’t want to pry but nodded and resolved to ask about it later. “Sure, get in and tell me what he needs. It was his hand that looked hurt, not his teeth.”

Kimimaro sighed. “Well, you’ll see what I mean in a moment.”

Sakura went in before him and saw Shizune usher the pair into an empty room and glare at Kimimaro as he entered. Sakura wanted to ask even more but kept it to herself. She rolled her shoulders and followed them into the room, trailing after the older blond’s cursing for Ino to get out and leave him alone.

“I-I’ll be outside then, I’ll wait, you’ll be fine.”

Ino looked to Sakura, nodding, before backing out of the room. Kimimaro waited on the threshold and Sakura winced. She would call for him if she needed him, but if Deidara didn’t want him near, Sakura couldn’t allow it.

‘You’re not even a good doctor.’

Sakura looked back to the blond and nodded. “Your name?”

The hair in his face his one of his eyes and was stuck with cold sweat to his skin, but she could see some sort of device, like a metal patch, over the obscured socket peeking through the strands. Still, he looked up at her and seemed to take in the entirety of her before swallowing and offering up a name.

“Deidara.”

His name felt heavy, like it was supposed to mean something, but she didn’t know what. All she could do was smile and try to make him feel safe.

“It’s nice to meet you, Deidara. I’m Sakura, the new doctor around here. I’m still meeting new people all the time so bear with me if I ask you your name again or mess up the pronunciation. I’ve gotten chewed out for that once already today,” she said with a chuckle, thinking back to the dwarf and his seven word name.

He swallowed again and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve not see you before, un.”

“Yeah, I still get that. What can I help you with today? You looked a little in pain when we brought you in.” Sakura started to reach for his hand, the one bandaged and seeping, but stopped. Her fingers hovered in place as she waited till his eyes met hers. “May I?”

He offered her his hand and started unwrapping for her. She picked up the bandage and finished the process, wincing when she saw the dark color stains that told her this was a long term injury, or one that had been hurting him for a while. The blood was old and smelled.

There was a long line draw horizontally across his palm and she suspected it of being the cause of it all before the line shifted, turned out, and the barest hint of lip began to show, followed by a gaping mouth complete with teeth and a tongue. The blood was coming from the gum under his upper canines where a long gash had failed to heal. He needed oral stitches in his mouth, explaining Kimimaro.

“Oh my, that looks nasty,” Sakura murmured, taking his hand and drawing it closer. “Can you tell me how this happened or what was used?”

She waited a moment, studying it further before having to look up when she heard no answer. Deidara was watching her, brows drawn, expression pensive. He swallowed again and Sakura started to get the impression that he was nervous around her.

“I’m sorry if I’m being rude or invasive. I just need to ascertain the nature of this injury and your cooperation would be helpful, but if you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to.”

She still held his hand in hers and that’s where his focus seemed to stay. When he spoke he didn’t meet her eyes. “It was a fall. I just fell and I tried to catch myself and it was open and it hurt so I bandaged it and came to Ino to see if she could help me, but she tried to take me to the dentist.”

“That’s where you’re supposed to go. Oral surgery is what they’re known for. I could stitch you up, but I’d probably need his guidance and help so that I do it properly. Honestly I’m not the most confident in my ability to do this sort of work but I’ll do what I can and stay here if that’s what you want.”

“I-I don’t trust that guy.”

Sakura stirred in Sakura’s chest and she had the suspicion that there was a story there, but clamped down on that feeling hard because now was not the right time to be nosy and ask around. It didn’t matter what these people meant to each other. She had a job to do.

“If you feel that way I won’t leave you alone with him, but I do need his help for this. Will you allow that?”

He looked up at her, meeting her gaze with his own and she heard a muffled whirring, like tiny gears shifting. She saw behind his long blond bang the surface of his metal patch shifting.

“You won’t leave?”

“I swear you won’t be alone with him. I’ll be here the whole time, and I can have Ino stay in the room as well if that’s what you want.” Ino would have to wash up and prep, but Sakura was only doing minor surgery. Ino wouldn’t be an issue.

Deidara frowned. “No, she can stay out there, she’d just distract everyone with her loud mouth.”

“That’s fine. I’m going to find the dentist and have a word with him. He’ll likely need his tools so it will be a few minutes. When I come back I’ll prep the area as best I can and get you comfortable. Wait for me here and don’t move.”

Sakura started to take her gloves off and toss them into the trash on the way out, satisfied with his weak nod. In the waiting room she found Ino but no Kimimaro. Sakura looked around but couldn’t catch sight of him. Had he gone back already?

“Where did he go?” she asked Ino.

For her part, Ino looked a little shell shocked. “He-he was I think he went to talk to Shizune. I think he just went into your office looking for her.”

Sakura nodded, but kept the frown off her face when she heard plates and forks being moved around from the kitchen area where Shizune was taking her lunch break. It didn’t make sense for Kimimaro to go anywhere else looking for the other woman.

“I’m going to need his help for the surgery. Thankfully it’s minor and nothing needs extensive work, but it’s oral so I do need a dentist to help keep me from making any mistakes. He agreed to have Kimimaro help, but I will be staying in the room the whole time. Will you be fine waiting out here until it’s done?”

“Yeah, that’s no-not a problem. Should I get food, will it take a while?”

“If you haven’t had lunch you should do that, it does no one any good for you to get a sugar low because you denied yourself food in your fretting. It’ll be a while for us to start and for the numbing to set in, so go eat.”

Sakura estimated the whole procedure taking about half an hour, but it could go longer or shorter depending on factors. She had never done something like this before. Would the numbing medication work on a mouth set in someone’s hand? Could he feel pain there?

“I need to speak to our dentist. Go eat, take care of yourself,” Sakura urged, holding onto her friend’s arm and giving it a little squeeze. Ino nodded at the contact and followed Sakura’s advice a moment later.

Sakura turned to see Kimimaro coming out of her office with a confused look on his face.

“You get lost?” she teased.

“I suppose it does no good admitting to it now. Have you see the situation for what it is?” he asked, stepping closer to her.

“I understand what you meant when he said I’d need you. There's a large gash in the gum of his hand’s mouth. Can you bring your tools over and be prepared in ten minutes?”

“I can do it in seven.”

Sakura nodded. “Good, I’ll start getting him numb.”

She stepped back into her room as the white haired dentist took off for his own office, intent on getting his necessary tools.

“Deidara?” she asked as she stepped into the room. “We’re going to start soon. Does the area feel pain right now?”

The blond nodded. “A little. It was worse when it happened. It’s not as bad now.”

Sakura hummed, filing away that information for later as she sat down to clean the site once more as best she could. Sakura had an oral form of numbing cream she pasted over the wound site, but it would be close to ten minutes before the area became unfeeling.

‘But that’s for a normal mouth.’

“Deidara,” Sakura called. When he looked up at her she continued. “I’m going to prod the area and I need you to tell me how sensitive you are to the touch.”

He nodded and Sakura began to investigate the area. “Can you feel that?”

“Not really. I mean, I see you poking it, but it feels too tingly from your gel to tell.”

The door behind her opened as Kimimaro stepped in, followed by Shizune, holding a small container of supplies that were air tight sealed in bags he would need to rip open for one time use. He was putting his scrubs on after pulling them out of an orange bag. They were wrinkly, but Sakura could smell the clean of them when he stepped closer to her.

Deidara tensed at the proximity, but Sakura put herself between him and Kimimaro. She moved her knee to bump Deidara, reminding him she was there and she wasn’t going to let anything bad happen. It was enough to pacify the blond.

“Has he been numbed?” Kimimaro asked, speaking like a professional to her.

“Just with the gel.”

Kimimaro nodded as he prepared a needle that would keep Deidara numb throughout the stitch up. Sakura moved her head so Deidara didn’t have to watch the needle piece his gum and inject the drug that made all his nerve endings forget what pain was.

“Good,” Sakura whispered, her voice muffled thanks to the face mask.

Kimimaro was wearing a mask over his face as well, but when he looked to her, his jade green eyes were bright and easy to get lost in. He nodded before reaching for his tools. Sakura kept the area prepped with bracers in Deidara’s mouth, but it was Kimimaro who navigated the sensitive landscape of Deidara’s mouth.

For once it wasn’t Sakura who was responsible for the healing in her office, and it was odd feeling. She was both relieved and embarassed. She wished she could be the person that healed everyone, but she knew she wasn’t always the most qualified. There would be times where she would need to ask for help and accept it.

“You’re doing great,” Sakura murmured softly.

Deidara made a sound of acknowledgment in his throat and Kimimaro looked up at her, reading to add another stitch to the gash. Sakura didn’t clarify who her encouragement was for. They were both doing well.

She felt a tug at the back of her head and cantered her eyes back to see Deidara’s opposite hand reaching for a stray strand that dangled close to his reach. She didn’t move away when he caught it between his thumb and finger, and she didn’t move away when he began to rub it between his two fingers in affection. It seemed to calm him.

“Almost done.” Kimimaro started to tie up the last stitch and stepped back, depositing his tools on the table pulled up to the bed. “Finished,” he breathed.

Deidara looked up and flexed his fingers a bit. The reaction was slow, and Sakura suspected some of the numbing was responsible for that. Still, the blond glared at the dentist like everything was Kimimaro's’ fault.

“I’m going to bandage you up,” Sakura interjected, moving back to the site. “Nothing cold and no strenuous activity for the next ten days. You think you can do that?”

Deidara’s attention switched from glaring to soft and attentive. “Yeah, un.”

“Good.”

Sakura started to wrap his hand again, they way it had been when he first came in. This time the bandages were clean and the work was neat. He watched her, ignoring the way Kimimaro slipped out.

“Thanks,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here as an option.”

Sakura finished wrapping his hand and taped the end down. She smiled at her work and then at him. “Of course. I only wish I could do more, but I’m not that impressive. Ah, but if you get hurt anywhere else or you’re sick you can come back anytime. For now you just have to believe me when I say I’m a little more useful than this.”

“You did more than you know.”

Deidara held his hand to his chest and let it sag a bit. He tried moving it a bit and then let it rest across his waist. His fingers were still stiff to move, but Sakura assured him that was temporary and would wear off in a few hours.

“Is Ino out there?” he asked suddenly.

Sakura tip toed to the door and looked out. The lobby was empty.

“She’s still at lunch I think. You want me to call her? I’m sure she’d rush back for you. She seemed really worried about you when you both first came in.”

Deidara shook his head and then started to pull himself off the operating chair. “No, I don’t want her worrying about me or following me back. She’s too annoying these days and I just want to be left alone. People can just be so nosy, un. Trees sometimes talk, but they’re easier to get away from than family.”

“Is that the reason I’ve not seen you before in Pompeii? I haven’t been here long, but you weren’t at Founder’s Day, were you?” She tried to think back to all the faces she passed that day. There were a lot, but she was sure she had never seen Deidara before.

“No, I don’t come back into the city so much these days. I-I’m much more suited to keeping to myself. It’s…” he looked away, to the wall, glancing over the health charts, then to the dar sink where metal trays were set up for prep. “It’s a long story. I’m sorry I said this much, but you were just really easy to talk to.”

The last sentence came out with a laugh and even a smile that made Sakura feel a little more at ease. It was great to feel like you helped someone.

“I wish I could do more. If you wanna talk I’m here, if you need patching up I’m here too. If you don’t want Ino tailing you I think I can keep her distracted until then. I’m hoping I’m one of the few people she’d forgive the deception.”

Deidara narrowed his eyes, still grinning. “If you’re the same Sakura from her penpal years I’ll believe it. And don’t think I won’t come back if I need it. It’s nice talking to someone again, someone who’s new. Everyone else here has…”

His words trailed off as he fidgeted with the courage it would take to complete the sentence.

“History?” Sakura offered. Like high school.

“Yeah, that’s a good way of putting it.”

Sakura nodded and Deidara smiled at the way she seemed to understand. She helped him up and finished his paperwork before informing him that her billing expenses would be channeled through Kimimaro, since he did most of the actual work. Deidara let her know that an invoice could be sent to Ino’s father and that would be good enough before he set himself out the back. Shizune had helped Sakura through the last leg of it and confirmed that Ino’s father would be good to his word and take care of the expenses.

“You’re not going to ask?” Shizune called after Sakura.

Sakura paused in the doorway to the room Deidara had just left. There were things that still needed cleaning.

“Maybe one day I will, but right now, I’m much too content with being a person he trusted enough to be helped by.” Sakura let her shoulders sag as she glanced back at the older woman. “I’m here to help, remember?”

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