#and once your attorney is there??? don’t talk until you’ve spoken to your attorney in private!!

[sentimentalslut]

don’t talk to cops!!! it doesn’t matter if you’re innocent it doesn’t matter if you havent done something wrong don’t talk to them!! tell them you won’t speak without your attorney present and then please, for the love of god, shut the fuck up!!!

[yayneloveart]

Trials and Trimesters, Chapter 11

If Ryunosuke had to give his opinion on British prisons versus Japanese prisons, he would say that the Japanese kind was preferable. While he did not enjoy his time being locked up after being accused of murder, it felt much nicer than being in a British prison. Everything was dank and dark and cold and very unpleasant.

They were led down to the cell block housing those with upcoming trials, passing many people behind bars in plain clothes and not any prison uniforms. Most were either sleeping on their stiff wood beds or cowering in the back of their cell. A very sad sight.

“Here is your client,” the guard told them. “Prisoner fifty-three, your legal representative is here to see you! Stop hiding and come out!”

“Watashi wa nekodesu ka?” an annoyed voice came from the back of the cell. The guard groaned and mumbled something about ‘foreign gibberish’ under his breath before walking away.

“Am I hearing things, or…?” Ryunosuke started to say.

“Is he speaking Japanese?” Susato finished for him.

“Sir?” Kazuma called out to the prisoner. “Can we speak-”

“Quiet!” a man walked out of the shadows at the back of the cell and approached the iron bars. He was short, fairly stooped, with wild eyes and equally wild hair. He shook in fear and was constantly looking around as if to catch something out of the corner of his eye. “They’re all around me… hiding… laughing… listening… right now!”

There was a pause as pregnant as Ryunosuke before they tried talking again.

“Sir, my name is Kazu-”

“You’ve come to curse me!” the man shouted at Kazuma. “You’re a ghost, aren’t you?! You’ve come to put a curse on me!”

“Excuse me," Susato addressed the madman, "do you happen to be Japanese?"

"Oh joy!" The man's demeanor immediately changed. "To hear my native spoken by a fellow Japanese, it's beyond my wildest dreams!"

The man began to dramatically cry with happiness, babbling about how grateful he was to their country for sending him a top tier lawyer.

This feels… strangely familiar…

Less than three months before, Ryunosuke had been in his own cell cowering in fear. He was curled up on the cell futon trying to process what had just happened to him. In only a few short hours, he had gone from enjoying coffee with his best friend and lover, to being accused of murder and arrested.

I wish mother was here…

"Ryunosuke?" The sound of Kazuma’s voice pulled him back to his harsh reality.

“Kazuma!” Ryunosuke jumped up and flung himself at the cell bars. “I didn’t do it, I swear!”

"I know, I know," Kazuma reassured him. "I know you would never kill anyone."

"I don't know what happened, I picked up a pistol from the floor and I heard a gunshot but not from the gun I was holding but no one else had one and the waiter saw me and pushed me into a pantry until the police got there and…"

"I read the report," Kazuma stopped him from continuing to ramble. Ryunosuke had started to tear up and was now sobbing out his words. "It looks bad on the surface, but I will find the truth of this case and prove your innocence."

"You… you will?" Ryunosuke wiped his eyes with his sleeves.

"Of course, I'm going to be your defense attorney."

Ryunosuke pushed his arms through the cell bars and pulled Kazuma into a hug. Kazuma hugged him back, and enjoyed it for as long as he could before the nearby guard forced them apart. "Limited contact only," he told them.

"I’m still scared,” Ryunosuke admitted once the guard walked away. “Everyone keeps calling me a killer  and a heartless murderer. It's like they know I'll be found guilty."

"We both know you’re not, and I’m going to show the world the truth,” Kazuma smiled at him. “I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you.”

There were many things that Ryunosuke was thankful for that day. His lover was also a lawyer and believed his story. He was in a men's prison, versus a women's prison where Kazuma would not be allowed to enter. He did not yet know of his condition, which would have made the whole ordeal worse. Sadly, this prisoner did not seem to have as many things to be thankful for.

Current Ryunosuke shook himself out of his memories when he heard his name being repeated.

“Ryunosuke is an odd name for a woman,” the prisoner commented. “I think I’ve only met men named Ryunosuke.”

Out of everyone in London we could meet, we had to meet the one person who would know my name is masculine!

“Her parents expected a boy when she was born and kept the name anyway,” Kazuma calmly explained. “As I was saying, we are also here on a study tour and were told about your case.”

“And now you’re going to defend me, correct?” The man looked at them with pleading eyes.

“Mr. Natsume… I need time to put all the pieces together before I can make a promise like that…”

“You must have heard all the other lawyers talking about me then,” Natsume looked down dejectedly, his sad eyes watering. “They all say I’m a lost cause, a foreign nobody. I heard people call me hopeless, a lost cause, and some even said I wouldn’t understand what would be said at trial anyways. I’ve been branded as a killer and the trial hasn’t even started yet! And the poor girl isn’t even dead.”

“I can only imagine how it feels…” Kazuma gave Natsume some sympathy.

I can directly relate to him… all too well…

“Everyone here hates me. I’ve traveled across the world to study their history and literature only to be accosted and abused by everyone around me. My greatest wish would be to have a lawyer who can speak to me in my own native tongue.”

Kazuma took a long time to stare at the floor, calculating his next response.

“Give me some time… once I have a good look at the case then I’ll tell you if I will take it or not.”

“We feel that we must find some clues before committing to anything,” Susato added. “A thorough investigation will always give way to the truth!”

“Oh yes, please! Please, go find the proof that I am innocent! I will be waiting here for you, Mr Asogi Esquire!”

—

“So the woman just collapsed with no one else around them?” Ryunosuke asked as he was caught up on all the details he missed while daydreaming. They were riding in a carriage heading towards the East End where they would find the crime scene.

“That's how we understand it,” Kazuma nodded.

“But then how was he arrested if no one saw him?”

“According to him, the police brought in Mr. Sholmes to help,” Susato said. “He said he led the police right to him.”

“You mean, Mr. Herlock Sholmes?”

“I have a feeling that we’ll be seeing him again soon, and not for a casual visit,” Kazuma looked at the notes he had taken up to then. “I need to know exactly what evidence led him to Mr. Natsume. I can only hope that there's a flaw in his deduction, if Mr. Natsume is innocent, of course.”

“Do you not believe him?” Ryunosuke looked over at his husband. “He seemed very convincing to me. Much more believable than Mr. McGilded.”

“I can say he acted the part, but after yesterday's trial…” Kazuma looked down at his hands, “I feel like I can’t take a client’s word for their innocence. I need solid evidence.”

“I believe he’s innocent,” Ryunosuke said firmly. “The fear in his eyes looked real. I know that fear well.”

“I hope you’re right,” Kazuma took his hand and lightly squeezed it.

—

What began as a planned investigation became a wild goose chase as Gregson stonewalled them right at the crime scene. Despite Kazuma’s best efforts, the only information he was able to get out of the Detective was that there were witnesses to the crime, but they couldn't question them until the trial. This led them to discuss their next best step, which is when Susato took her chance.

“We can go see Mr. Sholmes at his home and ask him about the case. I’m sure he will tell us as much as he can about it!”

“Well, if we had his home address then we could do that…” Kazuma thought out loud.

“221B Baker Street! That's his address in the stories, I’m sure that it’s also his real address.”

“Is it safe to have your address be published like that?” Ryunosuke wondered.

[heroprose]

aromatic;

a/n. forewarning for the usual vampiric shenanigans.

ship. hitoshi shinou x reader

summary. contemporary vampire au. (+ slight office au)

//

hitoshi shinsou despises you, you’re certain of this. 

what you’re not quite sure of is where all the animosity stemmed from, especially since he seemed to conduct himself well enough with everyone else. 

out of all your fellow colleagues, he treated you with the most transparent curtness, from promptly exiting whenever you entered the breakroom for a refreshment, to visibly retching the one time you tried to take an empty seat next to him during a conference (you’ll never forgive him for that slight).

it was really starting to grate on you. you were going to have to confront him about this yourself.

besides, you’ve no longer a choice in the matter: this unspoken tension had begun to affect the workplace, with people sometimes looking to and fro between you and him, confused to high hell why he always kept himself a good several meters away from you if he could-- not that you were complaining. social distancing can be quite mutually beneficial, after all.

and it wasn’t an issue you’d like to bring up with human resources either: that seemed a little too petty, even if he was literally gagging at your presence. 

you did try to ameliorate the work relationship-- really, you did. but there’s only so many times you can crack a joke and be left hanging in that awkward silence before you stop altogether. you once thought it’d been something you said in poor taste that made him abhor you so, but unless he had a seething hatred for mild puns, that didn’t seem right. 

and so what that you were a newer addition to the team-- you’d entertained the idea that maybe he had a thing against strangers, but hell, it’s been months and even interns get more conversation out of him than you.

although given his visceral reactions, you’re inclined to think it’s something about how you smell... but that’s just insane. you took your daily showers and used reasonable amounts of detergent in your laundry; and if you can take the pungency of axe body spray and the zestiness of dior’s sauvage on every man in the building, then he should be able to tolerate your own signature scent, which wasn’t even that bad... was it? 

no one else complained about it though. and you’ve even asked around too, so you know you’re not wearing absolute funk. it’s an unfathomable situation.

today, however, you forewent the perfume. if it really was the fragrance, then this should leave no opening. you’ve tucked the bottle in your workbag instead, in case you needed it like a piece of evidence for his rude behavior, ace attorney style.

you waited until lunch break, where most of the other colleagues would leave the building for nearby restaurants or go to the cafeteria, before approaching him. it was best this way, lest it got weird; at least only few people would witness it. 

hitoshi was currently invested in whatever it was on his computer, and if you were correct in his observations, he would pull out his own homemade meal shortly enough to eat at his desk. some days, he didn’t eat at all, which was surely unhealthy but you were hardly in the position to scold him considering your own bad habits. plus you didn’t want him to hate you even deeper. 

you got to observe this routine over a good number of weeks and it was truly no easy feat, with his desk set in the far corner of the workplace far from the wall-length windows and him being constantly out and about on his own assignments.

with your workbag in one hand, you walk up to him with as much nonchalance as you could muster. “hey! not going down to the cafe today?” it’s rhetorical: you knew he wasn’t.

he hardly responds, eyes flickering up at you briefly and giving a greeting nod before returning to his work. “mm.”

you round the corner of the desk so that you stand beside him. leaning down slightly to squint at the screen, you deliberately put yourself in his space. “oh wow, the deadline’s so far away but you’re already working on this part?”

he began to open his mouth, only to clap a hand over it with remarkable speed. and he coughs, goodness, with shoulders jumping.

“oh my god,” you can’t help but say as you withdraw. could he smell it even from your bag? you weren’t even sure if it was the perfume or just you anymore. “okay, i’ll cut to the chase. can we talk? alone?”

you’d think he would think it over, at the very least, to give a semblance of polite reflection. “no,” is his immediate reply, spoken forcefully, so forcefully that a lone passing colleague even gives you two a glance. 

“i was, uh, just leaving,” they say. “want anything?”

“i’m good, thanks,” you reply, bidding them farewell with a breezy smile before refocusing on hitoshi. he has already turned away from you, eyes blazing at the computer screen.

without another word, you reach over, placing a hand over his, and drag his mouse to click out of his report.

“what do you think you’re doing?” hitoshi demands, jerking away from your touch. and he’s angry now, genuinely irritated: you can see it in the way his jaw tightens. too bad you’ve been annoyed ever since you’ve been moved to this department.

“it was google docs, relax. your work is saved,” you soothe over. “now come with me. i just want to talk to you for five minutes, tops. please.”

he’s deeply conflicted for a heartbeat, but finally relents. “five minutes,” he echoes. you give him the space to stand up, clutching your workbag strap tightly in your fist. if he knew what this was about, he gave no mention as he walked openhanded behind you.

hastily, you lead him to the breakroom. with its doorless entrance, you assumed that the ventilation there would be moderately good, if it got too stuffy for him. then again, you wouldn’t of minded if he suffocated a bit either. admittedly, the entire floor was probably empty save for you two, so this dialogue could’ve been held out in the open but it didn’t hurt to have that extra layer of seclusion. 

“i already know,” you say into the quietude, leaning against the counter. behind you, the coffee machine beeped every so often. someone should get that fixed. you cross your arms and look at him carefully. the vents are tinny above you two, warm air rushing out noisily.

“you-- what?” his dark eyes widen ever so slightly, and for once, his expression isn’t quite so tense with you. “what do you know?” he must’ve not expected you to be so direct. he takes his hand out of his pocket.

“you know what i’m talking about. why you treat me like, i don’t know, the plague?”

“i don’t do that.”

“you nearly threw up when you saw me.”

hitoshi stays silent. ha, gotcha! “i only coughed,” he relents eventually.

“whatever. and i know it’s not me and that it’s really all you because guess what? no one else has this problem. and i’m thinking you don’t want me to air out your business to everyone else because that would be...” weird, for one, but you didn’t want to ruin your own case. “doesn’t matter; in any case, there’s no reason to be rude over this.”

“alright. so you know. i avoid you because of your scent.” his voice is dangerously calm. “what are you going to do about me, then?”

“about you?” you repeat with a scoff, “oh, so i should report you? what would i even say? HR would laugh at me.”

he smirks, chin jutting out. “right.”

“so now i only have one question. wait, make that two.”

“go on.”

“how should we fix this? because obviously i don’t want our little dance to start affecting our work ethic. you can’t wave me away forever. it’s how i smell, right? do you have a recommended detergent or deodorant, or something?” you ignore the fact that you’ve technically asked three questions.

“none of that covers it,” he mutters and your jaw drops. “masks don’t help either.”

“no way. i smell that b-- you know what... moving on. we’ve got to compromise somewhere though. but not my perfume.” your hands reflexively ball up. there’s no camera, so if you did something unsavory, there equally wouldn’t be any real witnesses...

“your perfume,” he repeats, seemingly dissatisfied. 

“yeah, no way. that’s my signature scent. go wear nose plugs or something, if it’s that bad. and i can’t believe you say scent and not body odor, like just call it what it is! damn.” 

the coffee machine lets out its intermittent beeps. hitoshi just stares at you, mystified. then, he breaks into a snort, like he’s the one who can’t believe he’s having this discussion. “i understand. in that case, i see no solution.” whilst bringing a hand to the back of his neck, he starts to move, intent on passing you to exit the room.

you let out a frustrated noise. “you leave me no choice, hitoshi.”

intending on presently the bottle to him proudly, perhaps even spritzing him once for good measure, you jam your hand into your workbag to fish your perfume out. you grab onto the rectangular shaped glass, and pull it out with great gusto.

and it goes terribly. 

to your horror, the bottle slips like butter between your fingers and sails, tumbling down to the floor right in front of you with a heartrending crash, glass splintering like ice. the beautiful blue lid goes spinning across the tiles, and like that, the whole room now blooms a gorgeous citrus, white floral scent. “oh nooooooo! shit!”

no longer minding him, you go to pick up the shards, bending down at the knees with a sigh. gingerly, you begin to clean up.

“hey, be careful. i’ll get a dustpan,” you hear him say and it’s one of the nicest things he’s ever said to you, but in your melancholy, you shake your head solemnly.

“no, no, i’ve got this. i’m just so-- OWW?” you wail without warning. you drop the wet shard you were grasping, still slick with liquid. “ugh, never mind. get the dustpan.” you bring yourself up on your feet again.

using your shoe, you kick the shards into a more cohesive, but wet pile. the clattering of the glass causes you some emotional pain. “terrific,” you mutter, watching blood bead up at across two of your fingertips. “well, at least i won’t be wearing that anymore. right, hitoshi?” you ask sarcastically. shaking your hand to rid it of perfume residue, you end up just flecking your blood droplets all over the floor. you glance up when you’re met with silence. “hitoshi?”

“nnngh...” a low, deep groan escapes his throat, and immediately he turns his cheek and takes several stumbling steps away. he grits his teeth, the vein in his neck growing more prominent like it’s physically paining him to pull apart from you. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...”

“you okay?” you close in on him. it felt almost backwards to ask such a query, seeing as you were the one bleeding. “maybe you should sit d--”

“get away from me,” he all but spits out, eyes squeezed shut. “you set this up, huh? figures.” stray hairs were falling into his face as he presses a hand against his temple and bit back another groan. “i was doing just fine before... so why... nngh.”

you purse your lips. “hey! what do you have against dolce & gabbana’s light blue eau de toilette? it’s a perfectly respectable, fresh, work-friendly fragrance! it was, at least!” you wanted to shout. but that didn’t happen, as your concern and confusion won over your sense of petulance. “set what up?” you ask, bewildered.

on closer inspection, he was not, in fact, okay at all. 

for a second, you thought he was having an allergic reaction. that would certainly explain his avoidance of your body, and perhaps why even a deep black had replaced the cool purple in his irises when his eyes snap open to glare. his pupils were blown out despite the bright tube lighting overhead, and his mouth parts wide.

yet an allergy did not explain everything. as opposed to weak, however, hitoshi suddenly looked frightening. 

because, instead, what came out of your mouth was a strangled, “uh, what the-- are those fangs?” 

and indeed they were, confirmed as they descended upon your skin before you  could even blink. at the very least, he had the decency to pant out a small but distinctively unapologetic “sorry” before his lips pressed around your bleeding fingers, tongue hot against the stinging cuts. 

you hope fervently your coworkers take their leisure at lunch.

[tchallasbabymama]

M’Baku’s Love- Chapter 4

Heyyyyyy y’all, enjoy chapter 4! Check out my masterlist HERE to catch up and read my other fics. Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Word count: 3052 After their kiss, Monae seemed to be avoiding him. They arrived and left at the same time almost every day, but she always found her way to her car quickly and was gone before he even stepped out the door. About a week had passed before M’Baku grew sick of it and headed down to her office to confront her on the sudden change of behavior when he almost ran over N’Jadaka.

“Yo, what’s up with you?” asked the prince.

“Nothing.”

“Nigga you walking around here looking like ‘Hulk smash’, what’s wrong?”

M’Baku sighed, not in the mood to deal with N’Jadaka at the moment. He reluctantly gave in, knowing he needed to talk to someone before he did something stupid like barge in on her in her office like he had planned.

“She is not talking to me.”

“Who, Monae? The fuck you do?” His right eyebrow lifted as he eyed M’Baku curiously. The Jabari chief rolled his eyes.

“Nothing! I just- we kissed,” M’Baku sighed. “And she has not spoken to me since.”

“All I’m hearing is you’re a bad kisser,” N’Jadaka smirked.

“...Is your cousin still here?” M’Baku deadpanned.

“Nope, you’re stuck with me and Lil Bit.”

M’Baku started massaging his temples, he could feel the stress headache creeping up on him. 

“Fine,” he gave in as he and the prince ducked out of the hallway and into an empty conference room.

“The issue was not my kissing, the issue is that damn ring on her finger. Sometimes she is hot, sometimes she is as cold as the mountains. I know she is engaged, but I cannot help but want to be around her.”

“Damn, you got it bad. What happened to being ‘unattached’ while you’re here? I was just talking to Neicey, the new Black American history teacher, about you and she seems like she’s down for whatever, if you know what I mean. She might be able to help you get Monae off the brain. Here’s her number.” He handed M’Baku a slip of paper. “You do know how to use your phone right?” 

M’Baku loved the prince like family, but sometimes he just wanted to punch him in his smug face. 

“Yes I know how to use my phone, N’Jadaka.”

“Don't ‘N’Jadaka’ me, I’m trying to help your big ass.”

“You are right,” he conceded with a sigh and looked down at the number in his hand. “You said her name is Niecey?”

“Yup. Go talk to her, she doesn’t have another class until 3. Last time I saw her she was down by the court.” N’Jadaka said while walking backwards and disappearing through the door, leaving M’Baku alone to think about his next moves. 

Of course he wanted to pursue Monae, but he knew that would be a dead end with the way she was treating him now. He decided a little fresh air wouldn’t hurt and stuffed her number into his pocket before heading outside to the basketball court. 

M’Baku saw her before she saw him, and once again Monae ran straight into him. Without even looking up she knew who it was. She’d know that body and that cologne anywhere.

“M’Baku! Hi, I’m sorry...again,” she tried to laugh off her nervousness.”Anyways, gotta jet!”

“Not so fast,” M’Baku lightly grabbed her arm. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I’m not-” M’Baku cut her off with an eyebrow raise and a look that made her heart beat in her pussy. “Ok fine I am.”

“Why though?” He pulled her in closer and she backed away.

“Because that kiss should never have happened and if I’m around you too much it might happen again.”

He smirked.

“So you avoid me because you cannot keep your hands and lips off me? That is understandable, I have been told I am irresistible.”

She chuckled, neither confirming nor denying his statement.

“Monae, as much as it pains me to say this, we could just stay friends. That way you keep your honor and I get to keep you in my life without you running away every time you see me. Eh?”

Monae was quiet for a moment, contemplating the proposal. Could she really  be friends with this man?

“Deal.” She reached her hand out to shake on it and he returned the gesture.

“So where were you ‘jetting’ off to?” M’Baku asked her as they walked towards the front doors of the outreach center. 

“Home, actually. I know it’s early but my sister, Jazz, is in town and I want to spend as much time with her as possible before her break is over.”

“Oh, well, have fun and give her my best.”

“Will do.”

And with that, they parted. Monae headed to her car and peeled out of the parking lot while M’Baku watched with a smile on his face. Friends? Who was he kidding?

Shaking all non-platonic thoughts of her out of his head, he finally made his way to the basketball court where he noticed Niecey heading right for him.

“M’Baku, right?” She asked, clearly knowing the answer already.

“Yes, and you must be Niecey.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it.

“I am. So N’Jadaka tells me you’ve had your eye on me...I thought you were feeling Monae for a minute there.” she laughed.

“Monae? She is engaged. So, would you like to go to dinner tonight? You pick, my treat.” he tried to play it off and change the subject. Luckily it worked and her face lit up at his proposition.

“Ok, it’s a date.”

_______

“Look, she is a nice girl, but she was so...dull. I had to try way too hard to engage her in conversation.”

“Maybe she was nervous?” Shuri asked, only halfway listening as she examined the communication device designs her highschool aged students came up with. 

“For what? It was only dinner,” M’Baku sat down in a huff.

“Some people get nervous around people they like, M’Baku, it’s normal,” the princess said defensively.

“Ohhh, the plot thickens,” said N’Jadaka as he entered the room. “They didn’t like the flowers?”

M’Baku and Shuri answered at the same time.

“What flowers?”

“Shut up!”

“My bad cuz, I thought that’s what- you know what? Imma go-”

“Actually I would like to talk to you after we discuss the princess and her crush.” M’Baku added teasingly.

“They’re not- ugh, fine.”

“How did you meet?” M’Baku asked her, desperate to talk about anything other than his boring date with Neicey.

“I met them at a conference for Teens in Tech at UC Berkeley. They’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, but they barely know I exist and I didn’t send the flowers because I chickened out. There, happy?” she rolled her eyes and went back to her work.

M’Baku grinned, finding her nervousness a nice change of pace from her usual arrogance. 

“Ah, young love. I do not miss it,” he mused.

“Oh like your situation is any better? At least my crush is single.”

“At least I can talk to mine,” he said under his breath.

“Not without her fiance coming up to the Center,” Shuri pointed behind M’Baku to a tall thin man in a nice suit heading down the hallway towards them.

“Derrick, my man. How’s it going?” N’Jadaka put on a fake smile and tried to dap him up, but Derrick wasn’t on the same page so it ended up being more of an awkward fist bump.

“Going good, going good. Just here to see my girl,” he turned and stuck his hand out to M’Baku. “I don’t think we’ve met. Derrick Jones, attorney at law.” M’Baku stared at his hand a little too long before shaking it.

“Lord M’Baku, Chief of the Jabari,” he introduced himself with a sly smile.

“Oh a chief? That’s awesome man, I bet all this is boring as hell to you huh?”

“Quite the contrary.”

“Cool...cool...well, I gotta go find Momo. See you all later!” 

Shuri gagged as he walked away and they all looked at each other in disgust at the nickname.

“‘Nae’ would be so cute, but ‘Momo’?...For an adult human? Absolutely not, I don't know how she stands that man.” Shuri rambled on about her disdain for Derrick. “Did you see how he deflated when M’Baku introduced himself with his title? He thought being an attorney was such a big deal? Ha!”

M’Baku couldn’t help but laugh and agree with the princess. Even without Monae in the picture the man was insufferable.

“And he didn’t even acknowledge you.” N’Jadaka added, shaking his head.

“Nope, just the men.” Shuri smiled sarcastically before turning to the chief. “If it’s not clear already, I’m on Team M’Baku. Fuck that guy, Monae deserves better. Even if it's not you, she doesn't deserve...that.”

“I agree...and thank you, I knew I would grow on you eventually.”

“Yes well it would’ve gone quicker had you not insulted my intelligence when we first met. This ‘child’ can hold a grudge.”

“Oh I am aware.” They smiled at each other before M’Baku’s assistant found them and interrupted.

“Excuse me, M’Baku?”

“Yes, Deontae.”

“There’s a phone call for you from Abiola, he says it’s urgent. Something about a snow bank...”

“Ah yes, thank you. Udakus, I will see you both later.” M’Baku saluted them in jest and was on his way to handle his business when he overheard two people arguing in a conference room.

“You don’t have to! I make more than enough money!” said a man whose voice M’Baku couldn't quite place. He continued down the hall with Deontae typing away on his tablet, but stopped in his tracks when he heard the other person. They both looked up at each other, recognizing Monae’s voice immediately.

“But I want to! What part of that don’t you get? I like being here with these kids a-and these people. The Wakandans are amazing and-”

“I’m sure they are sweetie, but this neighborhood is dangerous and I don’t like you being here. Do you know how many kids are probably downstairs trying to break into my car as we speak?!”

M’Baku rolled his eyes and he and Deontae shared a look. No matter how nice his car was, it wouldn’t attract anywhere near as much attention as the Wakandan technology in the Center. 

His disdain for Derrick grew as he realized he had just mentally defended the useless gadgets of the lowlanders. 

“Nobody wants your stupid car Derrick! There are literal hovercrafts in this building, nobody cares about your Audi.”

Deontae stifled a laugh.

“Wow, so it's like that? Why are you lashing out at me?”

“I’m not lashing out at you, I just want to keep my job that I love and you didn’t even ask me about moving first!”

“I figured if you didn’t want to go with me we could do long distance. LA isn’t that far-”

“Yes it is.”

Derrick let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m taking this job whether you're coming or not. You need to figure out your priorities.”

Deontae’s jaw dropped and he wasn’t able to pull it back in time when the door swung open and Derrick pushed past the two of them. When Monae looked up and saw them her face turned to stone. She was horrified that they had just witnessed her in such a vulnerable state.

“My apologies, we were just walking by and-”

“We didn’t hear anything!” Deontae forced out. M’Baku gave him a look and he shrugged. He wasn’t good under pressure.

Monae wiped her eyes and M’Baku felt so helpless. All he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and make everything better...that and beat Derrick senseless. 

“It’s ok, we were uh, pretty loud,” she said, avoiding eye contact with M’Baku.

“What do you need from me?” He asked her, his voice soft as a pillow. Deontae’s head tilted to the side as he took in the scene before him.

She thought about it for a moment, not able to say what she really wanted, which was to crawl into his big strong arms and never leave.

“Just some time,” she sniffled and cleared her throat. “Are we still on for lunch?”

“Of course-”

“Great, see you then!”

Monae breezed right past them and towards her office, and Deontae turned to see M’Baku’s dejected face.

“Wooooooow,” he started with a laugh. “Woooow… you like her don’t you?”

“Keep your voice down,” M’Baku whisper yelled, looking around for any possible prying ears.

“You got good taste, I’ll give you that. Shitty circumstances though.”

“Yeah, tell me about it…” M’Baku’s shoulders slumped as they made their way back to his office.

--------

“You have barely touched your burrito.”

Monae looked down at her plate and noticed he was right.

“I guess my appetite isn't too big today, too much on my mind.” She sighed and pushed her plate forward.

“I know it might be weird, but as your friend you can always talk to me about anything.” M’Baku knew he didn’t want to talk about Derrick, but he would do anything to make her feel better.

She looked at him for a few moments before she began. “I don’t know how much you heard, but Derrick got a job in LA and wants me to move with him. He’s always hated that I work here for some reason...I just wish he would have discussed it with me first, you know?” She twisted the ring on her finger and bit her lip nervously. M’Baku nodded to show he was listening, but his eye kept being drawn down to her ring. That little silver band with the fancy rocks in it that meant so much to her.

“He just- he means well, he does. He wants what’s best for me-”

“But should that not include what you want?” he asked in earnest, trying very hard to remain friendly. “If he is to be your husband, ask yourself if you can marry a man who doesn’t listen-”

“M’Baku”

“-to what you say you want. What do you see in him? He treats you like a child-”

“M’Baku, stop! Ok, I didn’t ask for this. It’s more complicated than that.”

“It doesn’t have to be…”

She looked at him as a tear escaped. 

“It’s been seven years M’Baku, I can’t just throw that away!”

“So you would rather waste a lifetime being miserable all over seven measley years?”

She stared at him with a silent fury in her eyes.

“I knew this was a bad idea.” Monae called the waiter to bring her a to-go box and her check, refusing to let M’Baku pay for her this time. 

“Monae, I-”

“Don't bother. I’ve had enough men telling me what to do for one day.”

M’Baku had never meant to make her feel that way, and as she left the restaurant his heart sank. 

The walk back to the Center was a blur, as was the rest of the day. M’Baku couldn’t get her words out of his head. He decided to give the one person he knew he could come to with this a call, hoping they would answer.

“My son, how is America treating you? You have not seen any police have you?”

“Just in passing, mama.”

“That is still too close for my liking with those killing machines they carry everywhere. Are you eating? You look thin. I will send some stew with the king next time he goes to the Center.”

M’Baku smiled warmly at his mother’s unnecessary concern. He was eating just fine and hadn’t lost a single pound, but he would never in his right mind turn down his mother’s cooking. 

“Thank you mama, I would love that. How are things?”

“I will be happy when you come back and I can retire again. The council is driving me crazy. This week the big issue is snow bank height. Can you imagine? Arguing over damn snow banks.”

He chuckled, missing his mother’s animated voice. 

“Now, you have not called me all week. What is wrong?” she abruptly changed the subject.

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

She sucked her teeth and he could already picture the look on her face. It’s the same one he gets when he senses bullshit.

“M’Baku, I raised you. I know you, now talk to me.”

He let out a deep sigh, contemplating how much he should tell her.

“I met a woman here, but she is engaged to a man who does not treat her well.”

“Engaged? M’Baku I raised you better than that-”

“I know mama, but I did not know at first. Apparently here the women wear rings to signify they are betrothed.”

“Just the women?”

“Yes, it is quite an odd culture.”

“I can see that...well son if you truly have feelings for her and this man does not treat her the way she should be treated, what would it hurt to make your feelings known?”

“That is the thing, mama. She knows, we-” he sighed, knowing this wouldn’t go over well. “We kissed.”

There was silence on the other end of the line before a slow chuckle turned into a belly laugh, leaving him confused and speechless.

“Mama, are you done?”

“I am sorry son,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “You just reminded me so much of your baba. You know, we were in a similar situation. He was in your shoes, and I was the young lady. What is her name?”

“Monae.”

“Such a pretty name, I am sure she is just as beautiful.”

“Even more so.”

“Hm, I bet. Anyways, long story short, your baba stole me from my betrothed.”

“He what?!”

“I was supposed to marry Hodari-”

“The head fisherman?”

“That is the one. Our parents had arranged for us to be married, but my heart was not in it. Then along came your baba, all tall and handsome, and I never looked back. My point is, if it is meant to be then it will be, but you cannot just give up if you truly think she feels the same way you do.”

“I do not want to give up, mama, but I do not want to push her away either.”

“Then let her come to you.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem​, @theblulife​, @devnicolee

[avengersassemble-fics]

New Perspective

part 03/?? “there’s no you and me”

masterlist

previous part // next part

word count 5k

an: oops. we find out some interesting stuff in this chapter, and see things from steve’s side a bit. ALSO RENATA WAS THE NAME OF PIERCE’S HOUSEKEEPER SO I USED THAT I thought it was funny bc... well ya know, ties this all pretty in a bow lmao. Renata deserved better! also... don’t worry, we will see what’s been going down with the unnamed ex husband soon :) TW; talks of a panic attack.

Normally news like this for someone like you would have made them ecstatic, and full of life. Given the amount of time and effort (and albeit money) that went in to try to even make something like this happen would have made you jump for joy. But the person you were two months ago and the person you were today were two almost different people. Well.. Okay, not totally different but different enough to think ‘What the fuck. What the fuck. Is this real life?’

Indeed it was, as the doctor told you. Three times to be exact. And even leaving their office you couldn’t completely believe it, even though you knew it to be true. It was like two parts of yourself were arguing with one another on who was right, the doctor or the fear that filled your chest. But when you found yourself outside the new location of your soon-to-be-ex husbands apartment, you knew the rational side of yourself had won this battle.

Two things didn’t go as you expected that day. The doctor's revelations, and then the reaction you received from your ex. Just how you said earlier that you weren’t a totally changed person in the now two months you’ve been separated, you did what you had come to know of yourself. You isolated yourself from the world. You ignored the texts and calls from your friends, ignored the message you glanced at from your new divorce attorney, and laid down in your bed and stared at the ceiling. You had managed to doze off a couple of times, but they were empty rests. You woke up with burning eyes and an estranged look each time without fail.

So when the familiar giggles and other unthoughtful sounds started to seep through your shared wall, you were up and out of the room before you could hear any more. Even after coming to rest on the couch you could hear the taps of something hitting the wall on the other side and god damn it you didn’t want to hear it. You were pulling open the door that led to your little stairs and in a matter of seconds you were sitting in your usual spot, trying to feel as much cool air as you could.

Your chest felt like it was heavier, more fragile. Each breath you took worked to calm the tension that had built in not only your shoulders and back, but in your heart. The air came in deep, and exhaled just as much. Your eyes fixated on the edge of the building as tears began to build behind your gaze. You hadn’t even heard the now familiar footsteps that came from behind you.

You and Steve only interacted on those two occasions, and it was dumbfounding why he still chose to come out here after his excursions with your neighbor. There was no rooftop dinner this time, or at least there was no remnants of it on your journey up here, so what was the excuse this time for his intrusion on your pity party?

When Steve came around the edge of the seat you always occupied, and that he would join you on, he didn’t even notice your disheveled appearance. He had walked past and to the edge, peering at something down below that you (obviously) couldn’t see.

“Every time I find you out here, I worry you’re really thinking about jumping ya know,” Steve joked. Or tried to joke, you didn’t think it was all that funny right now. “Gotta check and make sure-”

His sentence was cut off short when he turned back to face you and inevitably saw the look on your face, and your deadset eyes. With the sudden silence you pulled your gaze from the cement and met his, and saw his smile fall. Steve saw the wetness that hung on your lower lashes, and gulped down the knot that had formed at the back of his throat. You averted your attention back to something other than him, and Steve took a step closer to you.

“You’re kinda worrying me, angel,” he said. His steps brought him closer until he was easing himself next to you, on the edge respectfully as he always did, and your eyes fluttered to glance at him for only a moment. “Is everything okay?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. You closed your mouth and instead offered a simple shrug of your shoulders. Steve glanced over you and the pajamas that covered you from the brisk chilly air, and sighed a bit.

“Do I need to beat someone up?” He asked, and rested his arms on his legs to lean forward towards you. “Ya know I’ve never liked bullies. Did someone.. Do something to you? Have they hurt you?”

“Jesus, no. No one-” you finally spoke and trailed off. A hint of relaxation fell over Steve’s eyes at the sound of your voice. You let out a deep sigh and looked to the ground. Steve lowered his head a bit so he could see the side of your face.

“Gotta tell me what’s wrong,” he whispered. “Or else I won’t know how to help you-”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted in a whisper. Steve’s mouth went from a shocked expression to a closed, grim look. You looked over at him to see his stare and shrugged your shoulders. “Don’t see how you can help with that. Or would even want to.”

Steve was used to these kinds of comments. In fact, they were always true when spoken from the women who said them to him. But he couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt when you said something that, in hindsight, was true. If Steve had happened upon someone in this state, and if they were unlikely to fall under his charm or even reveal something like this, he would be gone in an instant.

You weren’t just someone though.

Steve looked up to meet your gaze and he gave you a smile. “I’ll tell you what, angel,” he shifted so he could face you better and you straightened your position at his moves, a bit intrigued. “Let’s make this a permanent thing. Anytime I’m around, we can still sit up here, and talk. And I’ll be here every time you need me. Every time.”

You glanced over him and narrowed your eyes a bit after taking in his thoughtful composure. “Why..?”

“Because despite your glowing opinion of me,” Steve joked and it finally got you to roll your eyes and crack a smile. He couldn’t help but grin at the action. “I do care. Can’t have a pretty girl like you all sad and mopey like you were.”

“How will you know when I need you?” You asked, and fiddled with your fingers in your lap. Steve reached over and grabbed ahold of your fidgeting digits, and gave your hands a slight squeeze.

“I’ll just know,” he said and smiled. You looked him over once more before giving him a small smile back, and Steve nodded as he released his grip on you. “Besides, I’ll be able to hear you crying through the wall if I don’t become your personal therapist.”

You scoffed and hit his arm with the back of your hand. Steve chuckled at your playful movement and a comfortable silence fell over you two. He could tell just by your composure you were a little more at ease, but he knew something was still on your mind. So he did something he hasn’t done before. Steve moved so he too could rest against the back cushion, and he was side by side with you now. He laced his fingers together in his lap and then looked over at you, and bumped your shoulder with his gently.

“Come on, tell me what’s on your mind,” he offered. “I thought this was what you wanted? Granted it doesn’t fix the affair.. But it finally happened. Isn’t that good?”

“Under different circumstances? It would be perfect,” you chuckled a bit at yourself and shook your head. “But he cheated.. He left.. And he doesn’t want anything to do with it. ‘There’s no you and me’, he said.”

Steve shook his head to himself and rolled his eyes. This guy sounded like a complete asshole. Steve couldn’t bring himself to understand how any man would do this to someone like you. “The more I hear about this guy, the more of an idiot he sounds like.. Do you want me to go teach him some manners?”

“Oh what, because you don’t like bullies?” You have let out a chuckle between the words and bobbed your head a bit at him in a mocking tone, and Steve grinned a bit.

“Damn right I don’t like bullies,” he mimicked you and bobbed his head in your direction and you genuinely laughed at him. Your laughter echoed over the street and between the buildings and Steve found himself staring. When you finally quieted down to giggles and met his gaze again, he snapped out of it.

“But really.. He was just as involved in the process,” Steve said and motioned his hand over you. “I say you take him for a ride, get everything from him.”

“I don’t want everything,” you said a bit quieter. “You know what I want the most?”

A question Steve has heard a great number of times from women, and he always knew the answer. But he found himself leaning in a little closer to hear yours. “What do you want the most?”

“To feel like me again,” you said with a slight shrug and looked up to meet his look.

Steve blinked a couple times as your words sunk in for him. It became a bit more clear in that moment for him that he hung onto your every word like it was the last thing he would ever hear in his life. It wasn’t long after those words were said did you excuse yourself to go back to the confines of your apartment. Steve could tell even when you gave him one final look before disappearing behind your door that you were still upset. But there wasn’t much more he could do, once you were in your apartment, that was it. He had to go.

He never stayed over at Sharon’s. He always left a note and gave some kind of excuse about needing to be ready for work and he didn’t want to wake her, but it was honestly bullshit. He could admit that, and he thinks a small part of Sharon knew that too. Steve would slip out and give a small tug on the door to make sure it had indeed locked behind him, and then make his way to the stairs and bounce down them as normal. That night he paused outside your door and smiled to himself before continuing on his way.

Steve didn’t know why he had become entranced with the woman he was sleeping with’s neighbor. But as a week passed, he sat in the same spot he had once before on Bucky’s couch, holding a beer, and zoned out of whatever his friend was trying to talk to him about. Bucky ran a hand through his hair and his gaze fell upon his best friend, who stared thoughtfully out the window. He stopped in the middle of his sentence and rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch and tossing an arm over the back.

“Steve?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve said absent-mindedly.

“Do you agree that I should throw this bottle at you?”

“Yeah, of course, whatever you say,” Steve replied. Bucky scoffed and grabbed one of the pillows near him and chucked it at his friend, hitting him smack in the face. Steve blinked at the pillow that hit his face then bounced to the floor, and looked at his friend who was all but glaring. “What?”

“Dude, what’s going on with you lately?” Bucky asked. Steve shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his drink.

“No come on, seriously. Are you seeing someone new? You have this look that I haven’t seen since-”

“Don’t go there, Buck,” Steve warned. Bucky raised his free hand in compliance and Steve sighed a bit. He glanced at his watch and Bucky rolled his eyes a bit.

“You seem eager to go see what’s her name,” Bucky commented in an attempt to change the subject.

“Sharon,” Steve corrected him and Bucky shrugged. There was a rattle at the door and in a couple quick seconds it opened to reveal Bucky’s new “partner” (as he called it), Connie. She looked over at the duo on the couch, and Steve noted the irritance in her eyes. With Bucky not getting up to greet her like normal, he was unsure if that look was directed towards him, or his friend. Connie audibly tossed her keys and bag onto the table near the door and with a huff, ascended the stairs and a few moments later, a door slammed.

“Fuck Bucky, what did you do?” Steve asked and Buck rolled his eyes and motioned towards the stairs.

“She’s been losing it ever since my ex showed up here,” Bucky explained and scoffed. “She’s pissy I didn’t toss her out as soon as we got home from lunch. God damn Renata let her in and she was sitting there just waiting,” Bucky motioned to where Steve now sat.

“Well why didn’t you toss her out?” Steve asked and a frown formed over Bucky’s face.

“Because I know her. And if she dared to come here, then something was going on,” Bucky casted his eyes down to the ground and took another sip from his drink. Steve raised his brow and scooted forward a bit to look at his friend.

“Buck, what’s going on?” Steve asked and Bucky sighed, but Steve noticed a hesitation as he recouped himself, that same carefree look on his face.

“Nothing we need to worry about, Steve. She won’t be coming around anymore,” Bucky said. Steve scoffed.

“For your sake, I hope not,” Steve said and finished the last bit of his drink.

That night things didn’t go.. Well. Steve didn’t perform his best, and he did not want to get into the details of it. He was distracted and even with all the very very nice work Sharon put in, his mind kept drifting to someone else. When Sharon cuddled into him Steve panicked, profusely sweating until she lulled herself to sleep and he carefully removed himself from her grasp. He needed air, fast. Steve threw his clothes back on, and it felt even more constricting. The long sleeved button up shirt, the trousers, he felt hot and uncomfortable.

Steve climbed those steps, pushed open the top, and gasped for air. His eyes looked around and he saw movement from the chair, and your head popped out from the side. Once you looked him over Steve stood there dumbfounded as you stood, and walked over to him with a concerned look on your face.

“Steve?” You questioned and he shook his head. You carefully grabbed one of his arms and placed a hand against his bearded face to adjust his view to you. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Steve’s chest heaved and fell as he tried to catch his breath and you looked to the door that led to your apartment. When your gaze went back to him and saw him pull at his collar and you took a little step towards your door. “Do you trust me?”

Steve looked you over, and before he knew it he was nodding his head. You kept your hand on him, now holding onto his hand as you gently pulled him towards the door you always disappeared behind. Steve blinked as his vision began to grow hazy, and he stumbled a bit when his feet landed wrong on one of the steps. You were quick though, so observant of him and nestled yourself into his side. When Steve was finally able to continue, you helped him down step by step as he braced himself against the wall. He was heavy, he knew he was, so he had to help you help him.

Once past the stairs and a door you veered him into a dark room, but it was soon brightened when you flipped a switch. Steve squinted a bit as he adjusted to the new lighting, and you were easing him down onto a soft surface. A bed. He could tell it was a bed. But then you disappeared from his side and he panicked a bit again.

You weren’t gone long. Before Steve knew it you were kneeling in front of him, and pressing soft clothes into his hands. Steve looked down at his lap and saw what you were handing him. A change of clothes, he can do that. Steve pulled the tucked in shirt from his pants and his hands went to the buttons that lined it and tried to undo them. His hands shook and he huffed at the inability to get them undone, he was stuck. He was stuck in this goddamn hot and uncomfortable clothes.

Your hands brushed over his and Steve stopped to watch. You met his eyes and gave a sweet smile, and undid a couple of the buttons before you paused. “Is this okay?”

Steve nodded. God, yes, just get it off, he wanted to beg you. You nodded and slowly undid the rest. You didn’t want to startle him, and Steve just watched as you undid every single button until the shirt hung open. Steve moved to peel the shirt back and down his arms and set the shirt by his side. When he looked back to your face you were holding the new shirt once more, and passed Steve the soft cotton fabric. Once he took it you stood from your place and let him have some room to slide it over his body.

In this state, Steve was grateful that you weren’t ogling him. When he got the shirt over his chest he looked over the blue fabric and up to your eyes. You looked at him with something he hadn’t seen in the longest time. You were worried about him. Steve looked down at his still trembling hands and you sat carefully next to him. Steve glanced at you on his side and you reached over and put your hand over his. He sucked in a sharp breath and the trembling stopped at the touch.

You let Steve stay like this until his breathing evened itself out. He went from letting you hold his hand to running his thumb over your skin. It gave him something to focus on to calm himself down, and you had eventually placed another hand on his arm. Steve took a deep even breath and then looked over at you, who was watching him pensively. You offered him a smile and rubbed his arm a bit.

“Would you like some water?” You asked him. Steve nodded, unable to bring himself to verbally answer due to the dryness of his throat. You whispered a little okay and stood from your spot by his side and walked to the hallway, but paused when you reached the door frame before looking at him once more. “If you want to change into those sweats, you’re more than welcome to.”

Steve nodded and you gave him another smile before disappearing fully. After a few moments another light came on elsewhere, and Steve looked at the sweats you had rested on the edge of the bed for him. Steve stood, and changed from the dress pants to the sweats, all while listening to you click around in the kitchen. Once Steve was fully changed, he slowly walked out of the room and into the open area.

Steve took the chance to take in these foreign surroundings. As he walked along the wall into the living room he looked over the rather barren walls. He could tell things had hung there previously given the little nails in the plaster, and the ones that remained showcased you, and what he assumed were friends and family. If there was any trace of a man, it was completely wiped out of your photos. That’s probably why these looked older, he frowned at the idea. When he completely circled the room he turned back to the kitchen and found you watching him. You were filling up a couple glasses with water from a pitcher and smiled at him. Steve cleared his throat and motioned around.

“Gotta say these pictures don’t do you justice,” Steve said and you chuckled a bit. You walked around the kitchen and came over to him and handed one his way. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” you said and went to sit on the couch. Steve watched as you nestled yourself against a corner and sat on one of your legs. Steve carefully moved to sit next to you and you sipped away at the water and watched him. Steve drank the cold water and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Steve?” You asked. He looked over at you and you smiled timidly. “Is everything okay?”

Steve chuckled a bit. He leaned forward to put his cup down on a coaster and then leaned back with his arm draping over the back of the couch. “A friend of mine just.. Reminded me of something I try often to forget.”

You seemed to think over his words and Steve watched as you mimicked his movements and set your glass down and moved to look at him. “You remember how you told me a week or so ago, that you would be there for me when I needed you?”

Steve laughed and nodded. “I do. Why-”

“Well right now, you need me,” you cut him off. You rested your hands in your lap and nodded. “So.. I’m here.”

Steve’s smile fell and he cast his gaze down to his own hands in his lap. His hesitation created a silence that hung in the room heavily, and to yourself you frowned as you watched him fiddle with his own fingers.

“When I moved to London, I met the most amazing person,” Steve started to explain. You looked up at the side of his face to watch him talk. “She was brilliant, strong, and didn’t need anyone to tell her who she was or what to do. And she was the first person who looked at me like.. Like I meant something. Like I wasn’t just some number, or some thing. I was Steve Rogers.

“We were together for almost five years. And then.. Peggy, that was her name, she got sick. She couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t keep food or water down, and it just.. It ate her away. Made her too weak. And then one day she just couldn’t fight it anymore.”

Steve hadn’t looked at you the whole time he spoke. He couldn’t tell when you had gotten close enough to hold his hand in yours but he was glad you did. He looked over at you and you were staring at him with sad eyes. You understood him now, you saw Steve Rogers. You were getting a glimpse into the man behind the antics and charade. And he hadn’t shown anyone that side of him since Peggy passed.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you whispered to him and Steve shook his head.

“It’s okay, angel,” he said and you rubbed your thumb over his hand. “Sometimes we lose the people we love the most. It’s what we do with ourselves after that matters the most.. So I wrote about her, about us.”

“That sounds.. Beautiful, Steve,” you told him and Steve shrugged.

“I never finished it, if I’m being honest with you,” Steve said and offered a small smile.

“Why not?” You asked.

“Because..” Steve trailed off, and shook his head a bit. You nodded in understanding and stifled back a yawn.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Steve said when he noticed your small yawn. He was quick to pull his hand from yours and rubbed his legs. “You should be in bed-”

“Steve,” you warned and he raised a brow. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Deflect. You’re deflecting.” You said to him and Steve looked you over.

“I’m being thoughtful,” Steve countered and you hit his arm.

“You’re being hard headed,” you said and Steve shrugged. “But thank you.. For sharing that with me.”

“Only you, angel,” Steve smiled and you rolled your eyes again.

“Steve if you leave.. Are you going to be alright?” You asked him. Steve’s playful looks fell and you once again saw that vulnerability again.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered honestly. You nodded a bit and stood, offering your hand to him.

“Then come on,” you said. Steve looked from your hand to your face and raised a brow.

“Where.. Are we going?” He asked and you laughed a bit.

“To bed. You need to get some sleep.”

Steve’s grin came back and he carefully grabbed your hand. “You’re taking me to bed?”

Steve had stood up as he spoke and you narrowed your eyes at him, though he knew you were only joking. “Keep it up Rogers.”

“Alright, alright,” Steve chuckled as you led him back to your bedroom and flicked the lights off along the way. You released him hand and moved to one side of the bed and he took the other. You were quick to get under the covers and watched Steve as he got into the other side of the bed and he settled in next to you with a content sigh. When Steve was settled into the soft sheets he glanced your way and noticed your look.

“What?” he asked this time. You shook your head and looked up at the ceiling.

“No one has slept there in almost three months now.” You admitted. Steve looked at you again and shook his head.

“He’s an idiot,” Steve commented and you shrugged a bit, readjusting yourself and resting a hand over your stomach.

“Sometimes we lose the people we love the most. It’s what we do with ourselves after that matters the most,” you repeated to him. Steve looked you over in the darkness. He looked you over from the hand that rested just up above your head, down the outline of your face, over the even breathing in your chest, and stopped at the hand that rested over your stomach. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew what you were referring to.

Steve let sleep come over him. For the first time in months, he fell asleep soundly and didn’t stir one bit throughout the night. Steve felt at peace after finally sharing that part of him with someone, and his stirless night showed that.

- - - - - - - - - -

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[faeriescorpio]

Chapter 3 of Damien Time Travel AU

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014884/chapters/67912645

The nap had not helped all that much, but as Damien stared at the ceiling, it did allow for his mind to come up with ideas on how to avoid that party.

First, he needed some sort of event that would keep William and the District Attorney busy and keep them away from Mark’s party. The District Attorney didn’t know Mark all that well, so hopefully, any event would do, and Damien figured as long as it was a party of some sort, William would show up. Damien took a moment to wonder why on earth William had shown up to Mark’s party in the first place. William knew that Mark was aware of the affair, so why did he show his face? Surely it wasn’t William’s love of partying that made him show up, right? Damien growled into his hands.

Even if he pulled William and the DA out of the party, there was still a chance that Celine was in danger. Although she hadn’t shown up until the day after, who knows what Mark would do after it became clear that his plan fell apart. If he could get Celine somewhere safe, then there would be no one for Mark to take out his anger on except for the detective, who Damien had no idea how to contact and didn’t think was in any particular danger anyways. The detective had died the last time, yes, but not because of Mark. He was clearly one of Mark’s puppets, placed there to immediately arrest William, but that hadn’t gone to plan last time either. But if there was no one to “kill” Mark, there would be no one to arrest, and no crime to solve, so Damien figured that the detective would be safe and alive after it was all said and done. Curse Mark for bringing in innocent bystanders!

Damien rolled out of bed with a sigh and headed over to the phone. He would need to be in contact with William again. After the cover-up of William’s accident on the safari hunt, Damien had distanced himself a bit in an attempt to keep his name clear. He hadn’t gotten very close to his good friend again before the affair was revealed. Damien hadn’t known much of what had happened, since he didn’t keep good contact with his sister, but both Celine and William had told him about it after Mark found out. Damien had expected Mark to come complain to him too, except the actor had only closed himself off in his mansion, speaking to fewer people. Having the gift of hindsight, Damien realized just how strange the sudden party invitation really had been. If Damien had been in better contact with William and Celine, he would’ve been more suspicious of the invitation and wouldn’t have come.

Damien picked up the phone and stared at it, becoming better acquainted with the older technology once more. His finger hovered over the numbers before he set it down, dismayed. He couldn't remember their phone numbers. Of course, it had been about one hundred years, but having even the slightest delay in calling his old friend did nothing for his nerves. He hurried to his office and found a notebook with some phone numbers written down. He skipped past The District Attorney's and his sister's numbers quickly, searching for William's. He took the book back with him to the living room where the phone sat, firmly attached to the wall. He grimaced at the old technology.

He dialed William’s number first. Celine trusted him, even if she sometimes babied him and acted as if she knew better. If he were to call her and convince her not to show up at Mark’s mansion, he didn’t think it would take much convincing to make her agree.

“Hello?” A voice rang from the phone gruffly. “Who is this?”

“William,” Damien greeted, breath almost catching in his throat at the sound of his old friend’s voice. It sounded almost like Wilford’s except less slurred. “It’s been a while.”

There was a sound like someone shifted abruptly on the other side of the phone.

“Damien!” William cried, sounded very cheerful and relieved. “Old chap, how are you?” Damien felt a wave of guilt that the last time around he hadn’t spoken to William that much. It was clear they both missed each other.

“I’m doing well,” Damien replied, smiling even though the Colonel wouldn’t be able to see it. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out for a coffee sometime this week. We could catch up.”

“Delightful!” William all but shouted into the phone, making Damien reflexively pull away before bringing the phone back. “Any day works for me, but I know you’ve got that stuffy job of yours.”

Damien grinned at the playful jab. Trust William to act like nothing had changed.

“It’s not that stuffy,” Damien protested half-heartedly, and William barked with laughter.

“Only because of that friend of yours, ey?” The Colonel’s voice lowered conspiratorially. “You want to give them cash, Dams?”

Damien blinked, confused. “I-” He paused, flushing, as he recalled the word’s meaning back in the day. “I do not want to kiss them!” His face was burning. William laughed into the receiver.

“What I wouldn’t give to see your face right now!” He chuckled. Damien felt his blush refuse to go away.

He glanced to the side for a distraction and caught sight of his calendar and caught sight of the date. September 28. Only 12 days until Mark’s party. He cleared his throat in surprise. He hadn’t realized he had so little time, although he supposed he should be thankful he hadn’t come back right on that dreaded day. But still, only 12 days? Everyone would have surely gotten their invitations to the party by now. He had to convince William that hanging out with him was better than going to Mark’s mansion.

“I’ll be open Saturday,” he managed. “I hope that isn’t too soon for you?” While he knew that planning a meet-up so quickly was something often done back in the more modern day, he was now the mayor again, and it would certainly seem impolite to plan an outing not two days prior. But he didn’t have much time, and William was eccentric enough that he probably didn’t notice any lack of propriety.

“Hotsy-Totsy!” William barked into the phone before abruptly hanging up. Damien stared at the phone for a moment.

“Hotsy-Totsy?” he repeated, dismayed. He considered the word, trying to figure out if William agreed to come or not in his own strange way. Then he shook his head.

“He’s coming.” Probably. He shook his head fondly. He set the phone down before picking it up again. He had to check on his sister. He had no idea why Celine hadn’t been at the party, or why she had shown up right after. He had no idea where she was currently. He rang her up and waited, but the call didn’t go through. He waited to leave a voicemail, but the phone hung up. He stared at the invention in disgust.

“Technology in the 1920s sucks,” he grumbled to himself as he tried to recall when answering machines were invented. His mind drew a blank and he growled to himself. He picked up the phone again, this time to call the DA, before pausing and flushing again, recalling William’s words.

“No,” he said, setting the phone down. “I can just call them and ask if they want to hang out.” He stepped into the kitchen, away from the phone. “They’re my friend. I can call them at this time because it’s not that late and I can go have coffee with them.” He grabbed a glass of water and opened his fridge. He sighed as he glanced at the food in his fridge and the time on the clock. “It’s not that hard,” he argued to himself as he started preparing for dinner. “I can just talk to them at work tomorrow.” he nodded to himself. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow.”

----

The butler stared at the ringing phone.

“Sir, are you sure I can’t answer it for you?” He asked. His boss huffed in annoyance in response.

“You’re fairly new here,” His boss replied. “But if there’s one thing you should've learned by now, is that I don’t receive visitors.”

“But it’s not a visitor, sir, it’s the phone,” The butler protested, and his boss snarled back.

“It’s the same thing. I don’t talk to anyone.” His boss exited the room, muttering to himself. The butler stared at the phone in trepidation. “Surely picking up the phone wouldn’t have been that bad?” He waited to see if the caller would try again, but there was no response. Still, he told himself, it’s not polite to let the phone ring out when there were servants like him to answer them. If they called again, he would pick up the phone.

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 40)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 1863

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

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

As soon as Spencer was better, he came back to work. Just in time too, because Everett Lynch was still at large. Finally though, you all had a lead on where he could be gone, and you were pretty sure he was going to bail his daughter out of jail. 

You, Spencer, and JJ were standing on the back side of the building while Rossi and the other part of the team were out front. 

“I’m gonna take a look in the lobby really quick,” JJ informed. 

You three were waiting on information from Garcia to see where Lynch and Grace might have gone. You knew they were inside the US attorney office, you just didn’t know where they were going to come out. 

You felt edgy and useless just standing there,but until you got the order from Garcia or Prentiss, you needed to stay at your station.

Spencer suddenly pulled out his phone, and began texting. 

“Is that news on Lynch?” you asked, ready to go any direction. 

“No, I’m, uh, I’m texting Max…”  

That name sent you for a tailspin. You hadn’t heard that name in several weeks now. 

“Max? As in Maxine? Why?” 

“She texted me and asked me how I was doing. I haven’t spoken to her in a long while… I kind of… miss our talks. Is that okay?” 

You shook your head. “I can’t fucking believe I’m having this conversation, right now. Lynch is out there, about to escape and you’re thinking about Max. No, it’s not fucking okay. What happened to focusing on us?”

“I still am. I just want to have a conversation with a friend. You have Dexter..”

You narrowed your eyes and shook your head, completely baffled. “This is un-fucking-believeable. God,” you said, your frustration clear. “You just can’t be happy with me, huh? I’m just never good enough, am I? I've tried to make this work for so long. I was honest with you about everything. And you can't pay me the same respect. I keep finding you with Max, or Cat, or JJ.” You dropped your voice as you stepped closer to him, “Do you fucking get that I confessed to serial murder to you, just so you wouldn’t divorce me for thinking I was cheating on you? Has that occurred to you at all? And how do you repay that? You lie to me about our mutual friend loving you. You lie to me about another woman, who as far as I could tell, replaced me. It has never been about lying, Spencer. It's been about me lying to protect myself and Dexter from federal prison, from the death penalty. I lied about something nearly every sane person would lie about. Your lie was to protect you, and only you, and it was a lie that violated our marriage, and you did it twice...Jesus, Spencer, just divorce me and move on. Stop stringing me along. It's clear you don't love me anymore."

You threw your hands up and started to walk away, just as the orders came in. Lynch and his daughter, Grace, were going underground in the underground garages of the US attorney’s building. Which meant that they had multiple escape routes out of the city, past the roadblocks your team had requested be set up.

“We can’t wait for backup, I’ll take this one,” JJ announced as she got back from her rounds in the lobby. She started to move inside the garage.

“I’m covering you,” you said as you followed her into the garage, gun drawn. 

“I’ll take 10th and Piedmont,” Spencer informed and you just ignored him, walking into the garage. 

As you and JJ entered the garage, you saw Lynch and his daughter almost get into a van. You saw the gun in Lynch’s hand.

“FBI! Stop!” you yelled out as JJ flanked your left side, her gun drawn and pointed at them. 

Lynch complied, lowering his gun and kicking it towards you two. JJ ordered Grace to drop her backpack too. JJ went to reach for the gun Lynch had kicked over and you kept your eyes trained on them. But the second JJ turned her head, Lynch moved quickly, spinning behind him to head to the driver side of the van. Your gun snapped his direction and you fired once at him to stop him. 

It all happened so fast, you weren’t even sure who fired first. 

The next thing you knew, JJ was flying beside you and a gunshot rang out in the garage that wasn’t yours. Just as you turned to see who had shot at her, it was too late. Grace had pulled a gun from her pocket, and fired rapidly at you. You’d been so focused on her dad, that you didn’t see it.

She fired shot after shot and you didn’t get a chance to dodge it. She hit you once in the chest, hitting your breast plate, but as you were being thrown back, another shot hit your lower abdomen -- missing the vest entirely. 

The burning sensation tore through you like never before. You winced in pain. You went to call out to JJ to check on her, but all that came out was blood. You heard ties squealing, and a van barely missed your body as you lie drowning in your own blood.

You needed to check on JJ, but rolling onto your stomach would mean more blood loss. You could hear her gasping for breath and you could see the blackness closing in around your own eyes. You reached up to your radio and hit the button, even though nothing would come out of your mouth -- nothing coherent. You just gasped once more into the mic, and then, the darkness consumed you. 

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

When Lynch came barrelling out of the garage, Rossi began firing at the van. After talking with the team, Spencer spoke into his mic, wondering where you two were. When neither of you were answering, he raced into the garage. 

He saw you and JJ lying on the ground. JJ was still conscious, but you were out cold. 

“Oh my god,” he gasped out as he ran in. He knelt between you two. “Y/N, Y/N, can you hear me?” He tried to wake you up, to no avail. Blood was spilling out of you so fast he wasn't sure he could stop it. “JJ, can you hear me?” He looked to his friend. She barely nodded but that’s all he needed. He requested an ambulance immediately, putting his hand over your wound. “You’re gonna be okay, just stay with me,” he encouraged JJ. “Y/N, please. Wake up, wake up, please.” His pleas were getting more strained. “Sweetheart,” he pleaded as he leaned down in your face, both of his hands on your wound and JJ’s, “Sweetie, please, keep breathing.”

The ambulance got there and all but shoved Spencer out of the way so they could load you and JJ. He rode in your ambulance to the hospital. He held your hand the entire time. They got you out of the ambulance and into the hospital. They had already ripped your fest off and cut open your shirt. Blood was still everywhere and you had yet to regain consciousness.

Spencer stood by, just a few feet away as he watched in horror. Your vitals were dropping rapidly and then suddenly…

That high pitched, monotone, never ending beep began. 

“We’re losing her!” the doctor announced. They fired up the defibrillator, rubbed the paddles, announced ‘clear’, and administered shock to your system. You came up off the table, but your heart monitor still rang out with the tell-tale sign of loss of heartbeat… loss of life. They hit you again with the same voltage, and finally a heartbeat appeared. 

Meanwhile, Spencer stood by, not knowing what to do or how to help. He felt powerless, watching you slip further, closer to death. 

“Are you her husband?” the doctor asked as she turned around. 

“Yes. Is she going to be okay?” he demanded, peering over at your body. 

“I’m not sure,” she honestly told him, a graveness in her voice. “If you have anything to say to her, now would be the time though. We’re going to get her into surgery now.” 

Spencer’s heart dropped into his stomach. They let him walk with you to the OR. He held onto your gurney as he looked at your face. “Come back to me, Y/N. Please. I’ll make things right, I swear.” 

They informed him he couldn’t go any farther, and you went behind two swinging doors. Off you went to the OR, and JJ in another one. Neither of your outcomes were looking especially good, but yours was more bleak. 

With his mind racing and his heart feeling out of control in his chest, he called Will, Jj’s husband to let him know what had happened. As soon as he ended the call, he stared at his phone. He knew he should call him next. Part of him didn’t want to. Part of him was dreading to see him again. Not because he didn’t like Dexter. He’d moved past all that. He even enjoyed his company. It was because of your last words to him. 

Maybe you’d wake up, and realize Dexter was who you wanted. Spencer had royally fucked up time and time again. You were right, what you had said just before you went in that garage. The lying you did was the lying that any person would do in your situation. Of course you lied about being a serial killer to your federal agent husband, who wouldn’t, given the situation. But the lying Spencer did… that wasn’t what anyone would do.

A good husband would’ve had a normal friendship with Max. 

A good husband would’ve told you sooner about JJ, the moment it happened.

A good husband wouldn’t have kissed Cat so earnestly, so quickly, so easily. 

And a good husband would’ve done whatever he could have to make you feel supported and loved. Instead, he only showed you coldness, distance, contempt, disappointment, disapproval. The fact of the matter was, he knew that you and him shared the same dark desires, deep down. And instead of owning up to it, like he knew, he continued to make you feel ashamed for the same things he had done and felt. 

So why wouldn’t you want someone like Dexter? He clearly supported you, helped you, made you feel wanted, special, free to be yourself, he never made you feel bad for any choice you made. He helped you see the error in your thinking, sure, but that’s what a good friend does. 

No, when Spencer saw you being wheeled away, your last words rang in his head. 

You fully believed that your husband of nine years didn’t love you. You could possibly die, feeling as though Spencer Reid loved someone else, anyone else, more than you..

And while it wasn’t true, it was true to you, and worst of all, Spencer had fed into that thinking. He was the sole culprit of it all. He had no one to blame but himself.

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

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[tvfanatic]

Caramel and Cheddar

She hates O’Hare. She hates landing at a gate in Concourse L and having her connecting flight leave out of Concourse G when she only has a 20-minute layover without delays from her first flight. She hates being stuck there for three-hour layovers, and after sitting at a gate in Concourse K for that entire time, looking up to find the flight boarding at this gate is headed to Atlanta and her flight is now leaving out of Concourse H, causing her to sprint to the other area of the terminal and nearly miss her flight because no one bothered to announce the gate change since she was there three hours early.

You would think it’d be easier to get a direct flight from New York to California. But the holiday prices to fly from JFK to LAX round trip? Not worth it. Flying into San Diego is so much closer to home too. Until she ends up at a layover in O’Hare right before Christmas and she curses at herself for not booking a direct to LA earlier and just driving a rental car the nearly two hours down to Neptune.

Something else she hates about O’Hare? About Chicago? Snowstorms. Blizzards. Yeah they happen in New York, and her California born-and-raised self does not fare well in them there either. But the New York blizzards have yet to leave her stranded in an airport on the 23rd of December. She hadn’t left right after finals because she was determined to get ahead at her internship and get her foot in the door at this law firm after graduation next spring. She’d managed to impress one of the partners, but at what cost? Potentially spending Christmas Eve, and even Christmas if they can’t get the ice off the runways fast enough, at the airport? Or alone in some airport hotel?

Why was leaving sunny, summery California such a good idea again?

Veronica groans inwardly at the thought, standing up to throw away her now empty coffee cup. Her hand brushes against someone else’s at the trash can and she looks up to apologize, not expecting to see him standing there. Let alone him standing there dressed in pristine military whites. The Navy, that’s right, that’s what she’d heard.

Of all the snowed in airports in all of the world, of all the stupid concourses in this damn airport, and he ends up at hers.

“Logan,” she breathes.

He looks good. Damn good. He should wear that uniform and only that forever. Although she wouldn’t complain if he was shirtless.

Stop, Veronica. Don’t go there. Not again.

“Veronica Mars,” he whistles. “As I live and breathe.”

She hasn’t seen him since he was punching out the son of a very prominent mob member in the Hearst cafeteria for her. She hasn’t spoken to him since. But she’s thought about him plenty.

“Are you on the flight to San Diego?” she asks. “The one that I’m 99% sure is about to be cancelled.”

He nods. “Dick and I had plans to avoid the holidays together. I’m assuming you’re going back to spend them with your dad?”

It’s her turn to nod. “Where are you stationed right now?”

“Right here in Chicago. Hence the uniform. Came to the airport straight from a work function and didn’t have time to change. Although now, I guess I could have made time for it. You’re in New York now, right?”

She nods again. “Yeah, at Columbia.”

“Veronica Mars as a lawyer,” he smirks. “I should have seen that one coming.”

“Logan Echolls as a military man,” she parrots back his phrasing. “Not something I saw coming.”

He laughs at that, gestures back toward their gate. “Want to wait out this inevitable flight cancellation together?”

“Sure,” she smiles. “Let me grab my stuff.”

Veronica brings her carry-on over to where Logan has positioned himself at a seat near the window. The snow is coming down in big, fat flakes and the infamous Chicago wind is whipping it around creating white-out conditions. She’s afraid to even flag down a taxi in this.

“It always fascinates me that the weather can manage to do this here and yet California is stuck in a perpetual drought for most of the year,” he says when she sits down next to him.

“I’d barely seen snow until I moved to New York. I’m not sure that I like it.”

He laughs again and she realizes just how much she’s missed that sound.

“A true California girl at heart, huh?”

“Apparently so.”

“Think you’ll move back after you graduate?” he asks, looking over at her.

She takes her eyes off of the swirling storm outside and meets his gaze. She sees their past etched into his familiar features. It hurts. Maybe her feelings for him never truly managed to go away.  

“I don’t know. I’ve been busting my ass at this internship trying to get a job offer from the partners. That’s why I’m traveling so close to Christmas. But if that doesn’t work out, who knows where I’ll end up.”

“What kind of law firm is it?”

“They’re defense attorneys.”

“Huh. Always thought you’d end up at the other table. The prosecution taking the criminals down.”

“How quickly they forget,” she teases. “After everything I’ve done to help clear your name in the past? To clear Weevil’s? Hell, Abel Koontz?”

“You think Weevil and Koontz could afford someone as high-powered as you?”

“Who said I was high-powered? I’m just a lowly law student kissing ass to get a job.”

He laughs again, turning away to look back out at the snowfall. “You look good, Veronica. You seem good.”

Is she though? Good? Is she happy with the way her life has turned out in their years apart?

“I’m okay, I guess. School and work are pretty much all I have time for anymore. I ran into Piz last week, I guess he lives out in New York now too. He asked if I wanted to get coffee after the holidays were over to catch up. I’m not sure that I want to.”

She doesn’t know why she just did that, why she brought Piz up. Is she trying to subtly hint that she’s single? Why would he care? Why does she?

“How long did you two last?” Logan asks softly.

“The summer,” she shrugs. “I broke up with him before I moved to Stanford. I should have done it sooner though. We were never compatible to begin with.”

“Less compatible than the two of us?”

She looks back over at him and he’s still not looking at her. “Compatibility was never our problem.”

He turns his head back to meet her gaze. They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, trying to read each other in the old way they used to be able to do.

“Right,” he finally sighs, turning away first.

She doesn’t know what he means by that. She also in no way wants to start a fight with him right now.

“You look good too, Logan,” she tells him instead, her voice quiet. “The uniform suits you.”

“Thank you.”

His mood has already shifted. Why did she bring up Piz? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m sorry,” she says, staring straight ahead at the never-ending blanket of whiteness outside the window. “For everything.”

He doesn’t say anything, but instead slips her hand into his and squeezes before letting go and pushing himself to his feet.

“I’m going to go talk to the gate agent. See if they know how long this storm is supposed to last.”

“Okay,” is all she manages to say before he’s walking away.

It’s not like she expects anything to happen from this encounter. Eventually they’ll both get on a plane to San Diego. He’ll be in first class; she’ll be in coach. Her dad will pick her up at the airport. Dick might give him a ride, or he’ll just take some car service to take him wherever it is he’s meeting Dick. Their paths might across again while they’re in Neptune. But after New Year’s, she’ll go back to her life in New York and he’ll go back to his life in Chicago. Nothing is supposed to come from this chance airport encounter.

But the way she wishes he was the ex running into her in New York and asking her out to coffee sometime instead of Piz – the ways she’s wished on more than one occasion that she hadn’t left Neptune without saying goodbye or without cutting him completely out of her life. They were friends once. They were in love once. And she’s never felt that way about anybody since.

Logan shuffles back over. “So, surprise, our flight is cancelled. They’re just about to announce it. They’re waiting to rebook until the storm passes.”

“So, we’re stuck here for an indeterminant amount of time?”

“Looks that way,” he sighs. “I don’t think anyone’s going to be out driving during this. Or at least they shouldn’t be. At least they’re leaving all the restaurants open. It’s not like the employees can get home any easier than we can.”

Did she mention that she hates O’Hare?

“You hungry?” he asks. “Nuts on Clark has got the best caramel cheddar popcorn.”

“Caramel cheddar?” she asks back.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. It’s a delicious combination. I think you’ll like it.”

“If we’re stuck here for hours on end, I’m going to need more than popcorn.”

“We’ll do a food tour of the concourse, then.”

He extends an arm to her and she accepts it, looping her arm through his.

“It’s probably not the right time or place for this, but uh, I’ve missed you,” he says, guiding her down the hallway of the concourse.

She looks up at him, the cut of his jawline, thinks about the way she used to tease him by kissing her way around his jaw before he’d grab her face and pulls her lips to his.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Maybe she hates O’Hare. But maybe Chicago and blizzards aren’t so bad after all.

[never-sated]

Four years ago, after Hillary Clinton lost the 2016 election to Donald Trump, one of the most brutal conversations I had was with my then-11-year-old son, who had grown up imagining that the world looked a certain way and discovered overnight that it did not. He was worried that he might someday have to defend children at his school from racists and bigots in the schoolyard, and he feared he wasn’t up to the task. His words at the time broke my heart. He said something like, “I know myself. I’m never gonna be the No. 1 guy to step in. If someone else steps up, I could be the No. 2 guy. But I don’t think I could stop it myself.” We talked a lot in the weeks after about bystander intervention, about being the chip guy on the subway (he just ate chips until a violent situation was defused), and about the beautiful words Mary Beth Tinker once shared with me, about how terrified she was when she wore a black armband to school to protest the Vietnam War. She was the one who explained how sometimes you only have to be “a little bit brave.” 

When I scroll through social media today, I am gripped by the same fears—of violence and unchecked power—that have made it nearly impossible to exhale for the past few months, perhaps years. I cannot predict what this day, this week, will bring. But what humbles and amazes me is the civic courage I’m seeing, the flexed muscles of so many ordinary people who never believed, in 2016, that they would survive this, much less find courage to step in if they were called upon to do so. 

Thousands of people phoned strangers in Philadelphia on Monday to urge them to vote. Some of them never thought they were capable of such a thing. My friends who marched in D.C. just last week to protest the Amy Coney Barrett confirmation were fanned out across the country knocking on doors Monday. My friend Mark is poll watching today in an East Philadelphia precinct that has received credible threats from white supremacists. When I scroll through social media these days, I genuinely don’t recognize some of the skinny First Amendment scholars I knew over a decade ago. They are now suited up to monitor and protect and intervene in the tense circumstances to come. I look at my journalist friends, who have come to treat death threats and bomb threats as the cost of doing business, and at how many of them have written and spoken and fought at their personal and professional peril in these dark times. I see people who have gone from citizens to activists to inspirational T-shirts, from historians and local voting rights activists to someone else’s only hope. 

Doctors and nurses and orderlies and teachers. Transportation workers, election workers, and factory workers. None of these people thought they would have to do what they now do every single day. But those muscles and callouses and scars are now part of who they have become. I am looking around at the feeds of folks who never in a million years would have thought of themselves as protesters, marchers, organizers, passive resistors, civil rights attorneys, poll monitors during a pandemic, and I wonder if they see what I saw this morning: that whatever this wretched four years has broken, it has also built so many different kinds of brave, such a thick and rich kind of civic power. It’s the kind of brave that will have people standing in lines for hours, the kind of brave that will have them voting in the face of closed polling places and burdensome ID requirements and even threats of harassment. It’s the kind of brave some people have been doing for a long, long time but a lot of other people knew little about.           

I was reminded this morning of Justice Antonin Scalia, in an oral argument in the 2010 case Doe v. Reed. Opponents of marriage equality were challenging Washington state’s practice of publishing the signatures on petitions for a ballot referendum, as part of their public records laws. They wanted the right to try to deny marriage equity, and to do so anonymously. Some of the court’s conservatives suggested that publishing the names of signatories of a petition put them in danger of harassment and threats. Justice Samuel Alito fretted about religious affiliations being published and people storming others’ homes seeking “uncomfortable conversations.” But it was Scalia, tag-teaming with Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who insisted that much as we might wish otherwise, “The fact is that running a democracy takes a certain amount of civic courage.” He went on to point out, rather presciently, that “the First Amendment does not protect you from criticism or even nasty phone calls when you exercise your political rights to legislate, or to take part in the legislative process.” He went on, more or less shouting that “you know, you can’t run a democracy this way, with everybody being afraid of having his political positions known!” And—no surprises—Ginsburg had his back throughout. At the time, it was all very hypothetical, but in the years since we’ve heard these arguments, GOP groups have hidden their donor lists under this same theory of protecting themselves from public criticism, while doing immense damage to the institutions of democracy, and more recently to the institution of voting itself. The “civic courage” for which Scalia advocated that day is today apparent in the people who realize that political silence is not a marker of “politeness” but instead can be a hallmark of complicity.

Strapping on a semi-automatic weapon and terrorizing voters isn’t bravery any more than invading a small college town with flaming torches is bravery. Tweeting encouragement for the jailing, kidnapping, and assault of your political opponents isn’t bravery, just as deriding the military while dodging the draft is not courage. Being a bully requires neither courage nor conviction, just the knowledge that you will be protected in your abuse of those who are powerless. But for the millions of Americans who have marched and organized, who have been arrested for the first time, who have knocked on the doors of strangers, who have made the art of the resistance and baked cookies for the resistance, and ended friendships, and stood up to trolls, and explained hellish truths to their kids, and who are still today—as the president incites his bullies—doing the kinds of things they would never have imagined themselves doing, well there is a name for all this activity: It is civic courage, and without it, there would only be bullies to occupy the field. 

I have no idea what comes next. I have no illusions that electoral victories will change fundamentally broken systems of power and money and gender and race. This will require decades of work to repair. But take a moment, in the maelstrom of today, to gently thank someone you’ve watched become just a “little bit brave” over these past four years. You may not recognize it in yourselves, but you will surely see it in those around you. And as the person who has penned a dozen “_____ Is Not Going to Save Us,” articles—about the Bob Muellers, and Adam Schiffs and even the Justice Ginsburgs—know that today I see the chip guys all around. You are the chip guys you had hoped to see in the world. I hope you see it too.

[rwbyremnants]

WARNING: Creepy dad talk, das it.

HAPPY NEW YEAR and stuff! Thanks for the love and continued readership, I know this is getting really long (and it has SO much left to go), I'm going to try to keep up posting a little more frequently now just so I don't keep everybody waiting too much longer.

=Chapter 26

The Vale Police Department was a dreary building indeed. Small and quaint, but undecorated and forbidding on the inside. Grey walls and white tile floors, and burly men in blue uniforms leaning against desks and chatting with each other in terse voices. They all looked a little surprised to see a teenaged girl in white dress, ponytail only slightly askew.

“Hello,” she said with a small curtsy. “I’m here to speak with Jacques Schnee?”

The one with the black sunglasses on tilted his head back to look at her. ‘Officer Burns’, his nametag read. “You got a name, sweetcakes?”

“It isn’t ‘Sweetcakes’. It’s Weiss Schnee.”

“One second, honey.” He disappeared briefly. Weiss wasn’t sure if she was supposed to keep standing or take one of the uncomfortable seats just inside the front door, but just when she had made up her mind to do the latter, the man returned.

“Yes?”

“Ironwood says you can go on through. Just watch yourself, girlie; this ain’t no sock hop.”

Once through a door in the back, she saw another door made of iron bars. The officer unlocked this, then led her down a row of what she could only describe as cages. They were mostly filled with men, and they all seemed to be interested in wolf-whistling and cat-calling her as she walked past. Maybe she should have worn the longer skirt…

“Want in there with him? I’ll be out here.” He tapped the baton at his hip, suggesting he was ready at a moment’s notice to subdue any prisoner.

“No,” she whispered softly. “I need to speak with him, but I don’t want to be locked in with him. Not ever.”

That earned her a sideways glance. But all he said was, “Righty-o.”

Her father was not in fantastic shape, but in far better than most of his fellow inmates. His suit was a bit grimy looking from sleeping on the dirty cot in the corner upon which he now sat, and his hair and moustache were devoid of their usual lustre. The footsteps had brought his head up, and now he favoured her with a tight smile.

“Hello, little Weiss. Come to gloat?”

“Can we have a moment?” she whispered to the officer, not even daring to acknowledge him first.

“Remember,” he muttered, tapping the baton again. Then he moved further back down the hall, snapping things at prisoners here and there.

“Father.”

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he began while spreading his hands wide, smiling at her. “Gloating is still my first guess, but maybe you’re just curious. Or maybe you’re about to ask ‘Why, Daddy?’ or some other such drivel. As if my answer would be worth a hill of beans to a disobedient child.”

“Who was it?” she demanded.

“Who was what?’

Leaning closer, she glared daggers at him. “The one who set the fire. We both know you had something to do with it, so you might as well tell me.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said mildly.

“Yes, you do.”

“I have spoken to no one other than the warden and my attorney, Weiss. Certainly not to you or your mother - even though you both owe me quite the heartfelt apology.”

“Apology? You… we owe you an…”

After a moment, she began to laugh harshly. Jacques weathered that sound for a moment before he grew weary and snapped, “What’s so hilarious to you, my idiot daughter?”

“Oh, just that you somehow can’t figure out that you’re the one who failed us. I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you’ve been abusing my mother for our entire lives, and right under my nose. I just chose not to see it. Too late for cover-ups and cleverness, Father; you tried to beat the both of us senseless.”

“You deserved it,” he growled under his breath. “All this gallivanting with gangsters, and somehow, I’m the villain of your narrative, just because I tried to discipline you?”

“It’s not ‘discipline’ to lash my face!” she half-shouted, ripping off the bandage to show the healing cut the leather had left there. “One scar wasn’t enough, huh? You won’t be satisfied until my entire face is so marked up that no one will ever love me! Is that about the size of it?!”

Sighing, he shook his head for a moment. “Don’t be hysterical. It’s unbecoming.”

“So is this beating you gave me. Not attractive at all.”

“Then stop earning beatings,” he bit out as if she weren’t grasping simple concepts. “The same could be said of Willow, really; she never could grow up entirely. And though the last thing I would ever want was to need to treat my wife like a child, it became necessary at times.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

Teeth bared, Weiss wrapped both hands around the bars so tightly that the knuckles turned whiter than her dress. “Who do you think you’re fooling with that ‘the last thing I would want’ routine? You do want this.”

“Careful,” he said in a dangerous tone.

“You want us to be your… your punching bags! Love to see us get hurt, love that you have the power to do that to us! It’s sick! You’re sick, Father, and I don’t ever want to be alone in the same room with you again!”

With no forewarning, he flung himself at the bars, just barely managing to catch one of her hands before she could pull it back fast enough. She tried to jerk away, but his snarling face was suddenly there, and she found she couldn’t do anything, couldn’t force herself to turn away or try to break free again.

“I’m sorry you were ever born, you ungrateful trollop. Daughters? I never wanted any daughters. Too much trouble, and too much like their mother. Don’t know their place. But I’ll be back to restore order soon enough.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Oh, haven’t I mentioned?” he continued in his oily growl, so low no one else could hear. “Daddy’s getting out of here soon. And you’ll have a lot worse to look forward to than some shabby old building being destroyed the way it should have been years ago.” His grin was positively demented, and she began to worry that his time in the jail had driven him over the edge completely. “I’ll mark your skin once for every stupid word of disrespect you’ve ever said to me. And Willow can look forward to the same.”

“No…” Gulping, she looked up for the officer, but he was turned away. “I’m- you can’t! You hurt us, the police-”

“Weiss, I own the police. I own this entire town. There isn’t anyone I can’t buy off, or call in a favour that they can’t refuse. Within a few days, my hearing will come due, and I’ll be out of this birdcage quicker than you can blink.”

Shaking all over, she whispered, “You’re a monster. You’re really a- I wish I’d never- no. I wish you’d never been born.”

“Then you wouldn’t be born, you bimbo! Honestly, how could I have raised such a dunce?”

“How did you set the fire?!” she demanded, hoping to squeeze some real information from him before she couldn’t stand to be this close anymore.

“Doesn’t matter, does it? I made sure it happened. And I’ll keep doing the same until you see the error of your ways.”

“GUARD!”

By the time he had turned around, he had let go and taken a single step back, enough so that it would not be readily apparent that he was holding her hostage. Shaking and angry beyond measure, she turned to make her way back to the front.

“See you soon, sweetie,” he promised in a carrying, cheery voice. “Very soon.”

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

“Wow…”

Weiss nodded as she gazed down into the malted she couldn’t even force down, no matter how hungry she was. Again. Her father’s words had ruined what little appetite she had left.

“Weiss, this is unacceptable,” Pyrrha whispered across the table. “He isn’t being… well, he isn’t being a father at all. How could he say such things?”

“I’d like to smash his face in,” Yang growled under her breath. Many of the diner’s patrons were glancing at her nervously; even if she was a girl, she still looked like a rougher element than they were used to seeing in the warm atmosphere of the establishment.

“Now, now… we won’t solve anything that way. Weiss’s mother will just have to work with Blake’s extra hard to ensure that he won’t be able to do such things.”

The brute rolled her eyes. “Sure, sure. I’m surprised you ain’t trying to tell Weiss to give him a second chance.”

“Well…” This time, she had to pause a bit longer to consider her words. “Forgiveness is divine. But he struck both his daughter and his own wife. Sometimes, God punishes people through the law, and I believe he needs to at least serve his time in jail before he gets any second chance. But if Weiss and Mrs. Schnee don’t want to give one to him… they have my full support.”

“Hmm…” Slowly, her head began to nod, then nodded a little faster. “Alright, Nikos. I guess I can respect that.”

Pyrrha's smile was weak, but at least present. None of them were in a particularly chipper mood anymore. She turned back to Weiss to ask, “How are Cinder and your leader? I can't recall her name.”

“Terrible. I haven't gone to see them yet myself, but the other girls say Cinder is in terrible shape. Salem will be just fine, and Emerald will need to wear some bandages for a little while. But they… they aren't sure about…”

When Yang's hand draped over her own, the tightness that had been building in her chest slowly began to loosen. “Hey. Not your fault, remember? And if it would make you feel better, we could go try to visit them right now. At least Salem and Emerald should be able to have guests and all; with Cinder they keep saying ‘family only’, but what good does that do anybody when she’s got no family?”

Weiss flashed her a grateful smile. “Thank you. And I know Sienna is helping them, but I really would feel better if I checked in on them myself.”

That was how the three of them reached the decision that they would go to the hospital after the soda fountain. All the way there, Weiss was on pins and needles. Would Salem even want to see her? But this wasn't about what anyone did or didn't want - it was about duty. Even though Yang kept telling her not to feel bad about what happened, she couldn't help feeling partially responsible since it was her father's doing.

As they had worried, Cinder was not available for visiting hours. But Salem was. The worst she had suffered was mild smoke inhalation and a few bruises. They also learned that Emerald would soon be released once her bandages were firmly in place, though Weiss had a sneaking suspicion that she would want to remain by Cinder's side.

The strangest thing about Salem wasn't the oxygen tube running underneath her nostrils, or seeing her in the sterile surroundings of a hospital. It was seeing her face and hair in full. She wasn't just pale… she was white. An albino! Weiss had heard some people were born without enough pigment in their skin, but had never met anyone like that before. Her hair was also yet whiter than her own, and done up into several braids. The curtains on her window were drawn, and now she understood that was to protect her sensitive skin from the harsh rays of the sun, just as that ever-present cloak usually helped with.

“Are you just going to stare?”

Dipping her head in mild chagrin, she and Yang paced into the room. “High Dragon. I'm glad to see you are well.”

“And I you, Little Schnee. Though I'm saddened to hear about Cinder. She was… still is, one of my most loyal girls. A fierce Dragon. To lose her would be a great tragedy.”

“I'm sorry, too,” Weiss said. She wanted to get this out of the way as soon as possible. “And… I'm afraid I am partially to blame.”

“Oh?”

“It wasn't really her fault,” Yang butted in, voice urgent. “Just because he's a big-”

“Silence, Xiao Long.” Her tone was merely cold, not overly severe. Either way, Weiss saw her girlfriend shut down immediately. “You were saying?”

As succinctly as she could, she explained about what had gone on between her parents, the abuse they had both received at the hands of her father. Then she summarized her visit to the jail itself, and everything he had said. As she listened, Salem made no other remark other than to ask for clarification on a point or two, and nodded or shook her head very slightly. It was as if she were listening to the news on the radio.

“I see. And because your father has taken these actions against us, you feel it is your responsibility?”

“Yes. You… you asked me to… regain his trust, be his good little girl, and I couldn't do that. Now, he thinks he's going to destroy all of us just to make me obey him again. I failed.” She felt Yang's hand fall to her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. “No, I don't deserve to be comforted about this! I'm a Dragon now. You were trusting me to do a job, and I didn't, and I deserve whatever punishment you give me.”

There were a long few seconds that passed in silence in that hospital room. Yang's hand went to her shoulder again, unperturbed by her effort to get her to stop, and Weiss neither pushed her away nor acknowledged it.

“Your apology has been noted. No disciplinary action is needed at this time.”

“What?”

“However,” she went on with a single finger raised, eyes locked onto Weiss's. “You should never do that again. Before going to see him in prison, you should have consulted with me, or with the acting High Dragon - Yang.”

“What?” It was Yang this time, stunned. “I thought… well, I know I'm supposed to be someday, but I'm still a kid. Isn't Kali-”

The way she shook her head made Yang fall silent. “No. You should take her counsel into consideration, of course, but you are my successor. Not Kali, not Cinder, and not anyone else. I thought I had made that perfectly clear in the past.”

“You have,” she assured her with a brief bow. “Sorry. I won't forget that next time - but I hope there isn't a next time.”

“One can never know.” Her eyes returned to Weiss, pale hands folding in her lap. “As for you… I suppose you have done no real harm, not directly. This matter will be dealt with. Do you still believe that your mother can be swayed to our side?”

“I, um… I'd rather she not be any more involved than necessary. But yes, she's still working with Kali. And I can tell you she's completely finished with my father! We both are.”

“Then I find that satisfactory for the moment. If you could fetch Sienna from the hall, I believe we have much to discuss before my discharge. You are both dismissed.”

Though she had an ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach, Weiss did as she was asked. Once they had spoken with Sienna, who looked tired enough for a dozen lifetimes but was as vigilant as ever, Yang led her to the waiting room where Pyrrha sat, sipping from a paper cup of water and looking completely out of her element. She stood the minute she saw the two of them approach.

“How are they?”

“Salem's fine,” Weiss told her softly. “Emerald, too, but… still no word on Cinder. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.”

“I'm worried.” They both turned it to look at Yang, and she shrugged her shoulders. “The way Salem said she'd just ‘take care of it’. What's that mean?”

Pyrrha's shrug was even higher than Yang's. “Search me. But it sounds to me as if she doesn't hold Weiss responsible for what happened. That's a good thing, isn't it?”

“It is,” Weiss sighed weakly. “Now let's get out of here. Hospitals give me the creeps.”

“Me, too,” Yang admitted. She had seemed a little on edge since they got there, but Weiss attributed that to their pending talk with Salem. “Ever since Mom- I mean, Summer…”

Now it made too much sense. Sliding her arm around Yang's waist, she began to lead the other two outside. If they never saw the inside of a hospital again, it would be too soon.

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

This time, Yang went with Weiss when she made her way home. There was a possibility the introduction could be awkward, and Yang had certainly expressed a plethora of misgivings, but she wanted to get it out of the way immediately - especially if her mother was going to have more and more contact with the Dragons. Salem seemed to be under the impression that it would become such a regular occurrence that she might as well be one of them, but Weiss was determined to keep that from happening; her high-society mother was not ready to enter that world. Not fully.

Willow Schnee was getting set up in the living room for Kali's daily visit. Though Weiss had never seen her mother dating before, she was certainly pulling out all the stops for her guest as if she were; finger sandwiches, the good tea set, and quite a lovely, pale pink dress gracing her figure. That certainly did nothing to dissuade Weiss from thinking there was a larger amount of affection between the two of them than two new friends would typically share. She looked up at the sound of the door opening, and her expectant expression turned into one surprise.

“Oh! Weiss, hello! Sorry, I thought you would be out quite late this evening. Weren't you going to spend time with your new friends?”

Suppressing a wry smile at the way her mother said “new friends” instead of “group of thugs involved in organized crime”, she closed the door and led Yang over toward the couch where she was seated. “I wanted to check on you. Besides, I'll see them again tomorrow.”

“Well, thank you,” she set earnestly, reaching up to take Weiss's free hand. Her other one was nestled in the small of Yang's back, trying to be reassuring. It didn't seem to be helping much; the blonde brute was still sweating bullets. “But I told you, I'm fine.”

“I know. By the way, Mother, um, this is Yang Xiao Long. My, uhhhh…”

She didn't end up needing to explain. Her mother blinked a few times, looked between the two of them, then lowered her eyes to stare into space.

“Ah. So… she's the one you're… that you- well.”

“My girlfriend.” Somehow, her mother's inability to say it out loud made her need to finish the sentence herself.

“Girlfriend,” she repeated in a tone of utter disbelief. When no one else spoke, she looked up at her daughter, eyes pleading for her to take it back. It made Weiss's stomach clench but she pressed on.

“Yes. I told you about this, remember?”

With a slight nod, her mother turned away again. “Of course, of course. This is very…” A frown line creased the center of her forehead. “I'm sorry, Weiss. Really. I'm just not sure what to say about it. Everything I'm thinking sounds so…”

Yang volunteered a guess. “Bad?” It got Willow to look up at her, and only the presence of Weiss's hand in the small of her back kept her from retreating. “S-sorry, ma'am.”

“No, no, it's alright. That's exactly it: I keep hearing things that our pastor would say, or Jacques, or… but my daughter swears to me that it is true love, not just sin. And she's certainly had a better head on her shoulders than I have for these past few years. Who am I to argue?”

“Maybe,” Weiss attempted, her voice quivering very slightly from sheer anxiety, “if you got to know her, you'll see that she's not just a sinner, or an obstacle, or whatever Father thinks that she is. But you might have to try talking to her yourself to do that.”

That seemed to shake the woman even more. Though she had glanced at Yang once or twice, she finally turned to properly look at her. Whether it was how young she looked, or how uncomfortable and worried about the outcome of this initial meeting, Weiss could never know - but it had the effect of making her frown even more.

“Goodness, I am sorry. Yang Chan, was it? I'm Willow Schnee. Must have left my manners in my other dress.”

As she offered her hand for Yang to take, palm facing down, the Dragon looked a little confused for a moment. Weiss guessed it was partly because her mother had missed her surname and substituted that of Charlie Chan, since that was possibly the only Chinese family name the woman knew. Weiss was inwardly groaning but kept her comments to herself. In the end, Yang accepted the proffered hand and leaned down to kiss the back, as if she were some kind of prince at a royal function.

“Oh!” Willow gasped.

“U-uh,” she began, shaking the hand now even though it was still in that awkward position. “Nice to, um, make your acquaintance?”

Tittering with delight, she turned a wide smile toward her daughter. “So polite - and she speaks very good English! Will wonders never cease?”

Yes, Weiss did indeed feel like she could die then and there.

[soultek]

It Won’t Always Be Like This - Kenneth Hayes x Reader (The Outsider)

Love It Gone / The Arraignment

Author’s Note: It took me way too long to figure out the lyrics for this one. Hence the long time coming B U T we got there in the end. He’s still my baby and still my favourite and I honestly need to rewatch this show (or... skip to all my favourite moments at least) In conclusion: I need to write this relationship more, they make me happy! Disclaimer: The Outsider & associates show/book characters not mine / lyrics not mine / My screen cap!

Premise: Terry Maitland is innocent, Kenneth Hayes now knows this for certain. That means he has some apologizing to do... You know everyone will get through this somehow, and you’ll be there for him every step of the way...

Words: 1865

Warnings: not-so-subtle sexual connotations / swearing

____ Wish I could've told myself back then It won't always be like this It won't always be like this I know nothing lasts forever But sometimes I still forget It won't always be like this Didn't have a clue who I was, Who I could trust, and who were my real friends I had big wings but didn't have a sky Just a front-row view of everybody flying high Waiting for my time, wish I could've told myself back then No, the heart won't ache forever No matter how hard it gets It won't always be like this, no Looking at you looking back at me All I wanna do is make another memory And love you like it's the end I wish love would last forever So I could live it all again It won't always be like this

---

When Hayes told you he wanted to apologise directly to Glory Maitland, you thought that was a good idea. He’d had a pretty bad time of it since the Arraignment, which was to be expected considering all that had happened since. And now Glory was suing him. But you’d supported him through it all, because you needed to. And because he needed you too. He’d heard of a few cases very similar to the Peterson murder, and every time he did Hayes would come home and talk until he was literally too exhausted to do so any more. Once he’d received the phone call from Yune Sablo – as nearly everyone else involved in the case went off to Tennessee to sew it all up; you had half a mind to march up to Ralph Anderson about this but hadn’t yet made good on your promise to do so – that seemed to clear Terry, and put someone else in the frame, Hayes had needed to go to the Maitland’s house even more. You stood in the doorway as he called her to arrange stopping around. Glad at least that she’d agreed to such a meeting – when he’d been on the other side of this whole case. You knew that Glory would ask him a lot of hard questions, would likely tear him apart and make him feel incredibly guilty. And she had every right to do so. But Hayes was your partner, and you were still protective over him. You couldn’t be present for the conversation; however, you’d be there for him the minute he walked out of her front door. As you would be when he walked out of court – or however they decided to settle, and whenever he needed you at any other point on this journey. And maybe he wouldn’t run again, maybe this was it now. You needed to enjoy his remaining time being a District Attorney. But one thing was for sure, you would move forward together. You would face the future together, hand in hand. As you had everything else. ** This morning he asked you to drive him over, which made you fold your arms and raise an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with your car?” “Yours is neutral.” You turned around from the kitchen counter you were pouring cereal at, to the island where he was standing reading the paper “Neutral? Because it’s another County’s marked car?” “Sometime like that…” You scoffed; “If you think it will help.” “I kinda do. And I think I might need you.” “Do you think I’ll get you back in one piece?!” “Who knows? That’s why I need ya!” You smirked gently, “Is this to help her out? Would you like me to put you in handcuffs? You know – to really sell it?” Hayes glanced over his shoulder at you, unable to pretend that he didn’t know why you’d ask such a thing; “I think you do that a little too much already.” You pushed your tongue against the inside of your cheek whilst you smirked, “Well then you know how to act.” “Will you stop-! This is unhelpful.” “You’re the one that wants to go for a ride in my county car…” You winked, “If you get out alive I might let you take a ride somewhere else.” He turned back to the paper clearly flustered – “Look! Will you just drive-!” You giggled to yourself, watching him – but he didn’t turn back; “Babe. Of course I will!” then taking your bowl and walking passed him you couldn’t resist the smirk as you looked back; “Would you like me to turn on the flashing lights too?” Red crossed his face as he looked up; “Y/N! No!!” ***

The drive was silent if only because he was contemplating. You didn’t know exactly why Hayes would feel the need to run the conversation through his head – he stood in the court room making speeches off the cuff all day, and was an extremely quick thinker, but you supposed for him this was different. This wasn’t a cross-examination of a witness, or a cutting sarcastic remark. This was the widow of a man Hayes had been certain was guilty; only for it to turn out he was not. And it wasn’t just any apology, Terry Maitland had died.

You took one hand off the wheel and laced your fingers with his – making him turn back to you. “I’m sure you’ve thought this through already, but remember she’s suing the office and you, babe…” “I know…” He breathed out, “It’s a shame, because there’s so much more I’d like to say, but due to that I just can’t.” “That’s why you’re thinking it over so hard.” He squeezed your hand; “Would you believe I haven’t been so nervous since the first time I stood up in court alone? Not even facing down one of my death row boys… or getting married.” “Well just make sure it doesn’t end up like your marriage, huh?” “I dunno…” He mumbled, leaning his head against the window, “I mean I guess we’re still friends.” “Babe, you don’t need to be nervous. You got this – I don’t expect her to make it easy on you… But she better not hurt you or I’ll throw hands-!” Then he laughed, turning back; “Oh, she better not hurt me? You wanna see the bruises I regularly get on my wrists-!?” “Oh,” You turned to him, voice mocking; “Poor baby – acting like he doesn’t ask for it.” Then you raised an eyebrow, “We could always stop?” Though he had a point, Hayes bruised like a peach sometimes and you had to be very careful that the marks wouldn’t show past the sleeve of his shirts. You noticed that suggestion made him go silent again, and he returned to staring at the scenery; “I’m just glad you’re here…”

When you pulled up at the Maitland’s house you turned back to him; “If anything happens, just scream – I got handcuffs and my badge.” “Ralph Anderson is gonna love that paperwork.” You scoffed; “Ralph Anderson can mind his own damn business-!” then folded your arms; “And like he wouldn’t do the same for Jeannie.” Hayes at least agreed with you there, opening the car door and stepping out; “Okay, I’ll be a minute.” “If you’re there any longer than you have to be I’m barging in-!” “You don’t need to-” “Equally if I hear anything from her I’m not opposed to leading you out in handcuffs-!” “Stop!” Still, at least he laughed; “Do you want to come with me?” “Do you need me? I mean honey, I think you need to do this alone, right?” You frowned, still sure it was better to stay out of it, even if for legal reasons. “No, you’re right – I think I’ll be fine.” You nodded, “I’ll be right outside. Good luck.” He leant across to kiss your cheek but you turned at the last second and caught his lips; “…And be a good boy.” “I will.” Hayes’ voice was gentle as he straightened and closed the door. You watched him for a moment with a small smile on your face as he fixed his tie, and his hair, and brushed his suit smooth before crossing the road and taking the steps up to her house.

 ***

 For a little while you sat to check work messages and listened to music with the windows rolled down. It has been a pretty hot spring into summer, that much was for sure, but after a while you decided to stretch your legs a little and stand outside the car in the fresh air. It also meant you could sun yourself; and there was a nice breeze to accompany it.

You knew this was probably awkward for him – heck he’d prepared about as hard for this as he ever did for cases. But you hoped it would be amicable, no matter how strange for both of them it was – he probably deserved shouting and screaming and being cussed out, but still – Hayes was just doing his job, and you hoped Glory might forgive him for that. He would exonerate Terry at his next conference, and then his innocence would be fact, his name cleared. You knew that things would never go back to normal after that, but you hoped they’d be better. It wouldn’t always be as bad as things looked right now...

The front door opened, placing you on alert again, and your head raised. They nodded to each other, but no words were spoken as he stepped out and she closed the door. At least Hayes looked intact. You smiled, uncrossing your legs and straightening up – he didn’t have so far to walk back to you but with the burning questions you had every step was agony.

Only when he’d closed their front gate did Kenneth Hayes breathe a deep sigh of relief, his eyes raised and when they met yours, he really did smile. “How’d it go?” Your voice was soft as he crossed the road, he moved in close, hands to your arms “…About as good as it could have…” “So you said it, all of it?” “Everything I can legally. When the lawsuit is over… I’ll be able to say what I really want…” His voice broke a little and Hayes rubbed his eyes with a sniff. Your brows knitted as your head tipped – had he cried? You supposed this was emotional for everyone, so it didn’t really surprise you. You reached up and cupped his face – bringing him back to you “And I know you will.” You nodded encouragingly, “It’s almost over, babe, and I’m proud of you for doing this. You didn’t have to.” Faint blush crossed his cheeks at the word proud, yet he smiled thankfully – “It was the right thing to do.” “It was.” You agreed, moving your fingers to lace with his, “Now, Mr. District Attorney, may I give you a police escort home?” He laughed, as more single tears escaped and he had to wipe them away again – “I’d kinda like to take my escort for lunch, I mean I didn’t really eat, considering-” He nodded back to the house “Lunch out?” You smiled gently, “Okay, I accept your lunch date proposal, however,” You tsked him “You should know better than to tell me you didn’t eat, darling, that won’t get you anything you want.” You leant up to brush your lips to his, “Even though, I mean it – I’m extremely proud of you…” He pulled away to thank you again, but you couldn’t resist pulling him to you by his tie to kiss him harder, forcing Hayes to steady himself against the car. You released him as if nothing had happened, and walked around to the driver’s side, leaving him to shake his head and slide in. “One thing…” You chuckled, as you belted in and started the engine – looking back to the house once more with a smile – it was nearly over… You’d probably end up giving Glory a big hug afterwards – it wasn’t something you’d been able to do yet, and it felt very odd. “Go on?” “You only assume I don’t want whatever you’re gonna do about the fact that I didn’t eat this morning.” His look was meaningful and you couldn’t help but smirk. “Careful, babe,” You patted your hip, pulling the patrol car away from the curb, “I’ve still got handcuffs.”

---

Thank you for reading about the DA Bae! 😊🙏

[msjr0119]

Hold On

Part 17c - The last day of court.

Nobody got injured at the Homecoming ball, they all get separated into different safe houses- for safety.

Riley and Drake had confirmed that they had feelings for each other, however Drake believed Riley should be with Liam. Heartbroken, she moves back to New York. Only keeping in touch with Hana, Maxwell and Olivia.

Riley meets lawyer, Nate Cooper and begins a relationship with him. In Cordonia, Drake begins to court Kiara.

Nine months after Riley had left Cordonia- there is a reunion, but not the reunion the friends had hoped for.

*Characters belong to Pixelberry*

If you are under 18 please do not read this series. If you do you are consenting that you are over the age.

Series warnings: Suicide, domestic abuse, swearing, stabbing, smut 🍋. If any of these triggers affect you do not read!

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @butindeed @bbrandy2002 @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @choices97 @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world

******

Riley was nervous for the last day of court, surely this alibi was fake? Maybe Nate was purposely delaying the verdict. Who knows? No matter what the verdict was she was returning to Cordonia. She was going to make up for lost time with her King.

For the third time, everyone resumed their normal positions. Three days in court was tiring- the trial was draining all the energy out of everyone. Riley had spoken to Miss Graham the previous day, requesting that they try to get cctv from the night Leo was attacked. As it happened months ago- there was no video evidence. Riley thought about asking on social media if anyone was around that night- but her attorney advised against this. They were confident he was going to be wearing orange for a while- especially as he admitted to pushing her down the stairs. That isn’t normal behaviour. If they can’t get him for other injuries- they can definitely get him for that.

The court case began. Miss Graham, insisted on showing the judge and the jury photo evidence of Riley’s and Leo’s injuries. Beth, Lola, Daniel and Leo were gobsmacked at the photos of Riley provided by the hospital. They didn’t realise that it was that bad. They were all furious and felt guilty. Leo now understood fully why Riley didn’t want Liam there. Leo was ready to kill Nate himself. The whole court gasped at the images- Nate looked down to the floor, he hoped to god his alibi would come through for him.

“Please welcome to the stand Miss Chambers. She will give last minute evidence supporting Mr Cooper.”

Riley and Leo truly believed that he didn’t have an alibi. Riley now knew that he must have paid someone to lie to for him. The brunette stood up- quickly glanced at Riley. Her heart felt as if it had stopped. She couldn’t breath.

“Leo! It’s fucking Madeleine!”

“Ri, don’t be stupid. Maddy is blonde.”

“Leo I’m telling you it’s fucking her! That smirk. Those eyes! Don’t call me stupid! It’s her! Have you never heard of disguises? You should check Lola’s wardrobe out!”

“Miss Brooks is there a problem? I will have to remove you.”

“Riley if it is her. We will sort this. Just let her talk the bullshit that she always does. We know the truth. She’s doing this because she’s jealous. Just sit down Ri. You can’t be thrown out. Please.”

“No. Sorry your honor.” - Miss fucking Chambers, my fucking arse. I’m onto you Countess.

‘Miss Chambers’ read out the oath in front of everyone. First lie under oath, bravo Madeleine- Riley muttered. Riley shook her head, jaws clenched- staring at both Nate and ‘Miss Chambers’ with narrowed eyes. Leo took her hand, gently rubbing it. If it was Madeleine, he was going to immediately contact Liam to come. The junior kings guard would have to escort him on the royal jet.

“Miss Chambers, you say that you believe that my two clients were having an affair?”

“Yes they was- are. They have been doing for over a year. I should know, as Leo was once my fiancé.”

Riley shot a look at Leo- told you fucking so! Leo held his head low, he knew Riley was intelligent- he was slightly pissed that he didn’t figure it out before her. Anger building up inside her- she couldn’t take it anymore.

“That is not true! She’s lying! She’s not called Miss Chambers. She has it in for the two of us and Leo’s brother! What have you done Nate? Paid her to lie for you?”

“Miss Brooks, last warning. Sit down!”

Leo stood up pleading with Riley to sit down. He knew how she felt, he felt it too. The jury surely wouldn’t believe ‘last minute evidence’.

“I do believe, I have my drivers license with my name on it. I can show everyone if you want your honor.”

The judge took the license and showed it on the big screen. Fucking cunning bitch- Riley was exasperated, her breathing increased rapidly.

“Miss Chambers, have you any evidence that they was having this apparent affair?”

“Yes. Here is a photo.”

Everyone looked at the photo- it showed Riley and Leo on a dance floor dancing. An innocent dance. Not as if their tongues were down each other’s throats.

“Ri, as far as I remember that was the first night you slept with Nate. Don’t worry, she’s trying to pull anything. It won’t happen.”

“Looks like a picture of two friends dancing Miss Chambers. Not exactly proof of an affair is it? What other evidence are you wanting to provide because quite frankly I believe this is a waste of time. We want to get to the verdict and wrap this trial up.”

“I have a video from the night of the attack. It was taken on my phone. I can prove that it wasn’t Nate beating Mr Rhys to a pulp.”

The judge retrieved the video, he plugged the phone into the laptop using a usb cable. It played it in front of the courtroom, on the projector.

“Oh she’s fucking good. That’s not you. And that’s not Nate.”

“What has she done? She’s hired people to re-enact that night. I’m going to kill her.”

“You won’t get chance to!”

The video showed ‘Leo’ on the floor being punched by a man similar looking to Nate. Whilst ‘Nate’ stood in the corner observing the bloodied fight.

“As you can see your honor, Mr Cooper was stood in the corner next to me. He didn’t touch Leo just like he said yesterday.”

The head of the jury, whispered to the judge. Riley tried to lip read what was being said- but couldn’t work it out. Her heart was going ten to the dozen now. She was emotionally knackered.

“Thank you for your evidence Miss Chambers. I think we have enough. You may sit down, as should you Miss Graham. The jury will not be making a decision today regarding the verdict- due to this new evidence. Miss Chambers we will need to keep your phone as evidence until the jury have made a decision. Do you understand?”

“Yes your honor.”

‘Miss Chambers’ sat down, looked at Nate who mouthed to her - thank you. She smiled softly at him, then returned her daggers to Leo and Riley before giving her usual smirk.

“Court is adjourned. And dismissed today. We will contact the relevant parties when we have a verdict. You may all be dismissed.”

******

Riley and the friends walked out of court. Leo explained to the others about the reasoning behind Riley’s outburst. Bastien joined them. He encouraged Leo to demand that Liam got here now, along with Olivia as she was mentioned in court.

Riley just stood frozen, all their effort had gone to shit. She needed a cigarette. She knew it was bad and that it wouldn’t take the full pain away. Leo joined her. Bastien avoided their gaze, he knew it was none of his business but still didn’t agree with the bad habit.

Riley saw the woman in the corner of her eyes. She began to shout.

“Hey!”

There was no response. Riley flung the cig on the floor not giving a shit if she got a fine for littering.

“Hey! Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

The friends looked concerned, as Riley’s lack of energy soon turned into full blown adrenaline.

“Madeleine I mean it! Fucking stop walking away from me!”

Riley ran after the woman. Catching up to her. She pulled her wig off then pulled her hair- bringing her face closer to hers.

“What is your fucking problem? How dare you come to my city and cause shit!”

“Oh Lady Riley. Do you own this city?”

“It’s my fucking city and you’re trespassing!”

Leo and Bastien, attempted to pull Riley away from Madeleine. Her tiny fragile frame was now impersonating the hulk- she was too strong. The two men couldn’t restrain her.

“Get the fuck off me you two! I can handle her!”

“Lady Riley, please leave her. She’s not worth it.”

“Oh Riley. You even have Bastien sticking up for you now. Are you planning anymore attention seeking? You really aren’t as perfect as you think you are. No wonder Nate hit you....”

Riley pulled her arm back, hands fisted in a ball. She aimed right for Madeleine’s nose, then the second punch went straight into her jaw.

“Stay the fuck away from me, my city and my friends, Madeleine. Or I swear to god i will damage that perfect face of yours more... that was just the start!”

Bastien intervened grabbing Madeleine, whilst Leo picked Riley up slinging her over his shoulder. She was kicking and screaming for him to let her go.

“Ri, you’ve done enough. Just leave her. We don’t want you getting arrested. Bastien will sort her out.”

Leo said as he cupped her cheeks. His eyes pleading with her to calm down. She eventually broke down in tears- Leo gently wiped them away using his suit. Riley eventually calmed down and thanked Leo.

“Come on, let’s get you back. I’ll run you a bath. We can all watch a movie together. Go ahead with the girls and Daniel. I’ll find Bastien.”

******

Leo rung Liam, he backed out of telling him the real reasoning of his call. He just ended the call saying - The sentencing has been adjourned.. due to new evidence.

“Leo, ring him back now. He needs to get here as soon as possible!”

“Bastien, she will kill me for going behind her back. You’ve just witnessed what she’s capable of. I love my face too much, it couldn’t deal with anymore damage.”

“NOW PRINCE LEO!”

“Fine.”

Leo dialled his brother’s number again.

“Li, you have to get here now. Everything has gone to shit. I’m not going to lie.”

“I was wondering when you was going to ring back. I don’t need you to tell me what to do. Myself and Olivia have already set off. See you soon. I’ve booked a penthouse for myself and Riley. Send me Lola and Daniel’s address.”

“Will do. See ya.”

Leo looked over at Bastien, he knew Bastien would have contacted Liam himself eventually.

“He’s the brother with sense Bast. He and Olivia have already set off. Good job we sent the royal jet back when we arrived eh?”

Bastien looked the Prince shaking his head. Yes thank god for Liam, he thought. The two men caught up with the rest of group.

****

Madeleine went back to her room, staring into the mirror disgusted. Her fingers ran over her newly disfigured face. Fucking commoners- she muttered.

She picked up her phone, she knew she had to update her friend.

“Ki, this plan isn’t going to work. Lady Riley has hit me. Obviously King Liam is going to stand by her. I thought we’d be able to ruin her, and that she would choose to run away again- somewhere new.”

“I’m going to lose Drake. You said this plan would work Maddy!”

“Personally Kiara, I don’t understand why you are so obsessed with the commoner! She’s all for Liam anyway. I can’t handle being a couples counsellor, I’m better than this. If he leaves you so what? He did it to her. I’m leaving this alone now- I’m out! Toodles, darling.”

[thatfanficstuff]

So Pretty

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Jerk in the grocery store, polyamorous relationship, fluff

A/N: This is for @just-add-butter who was my assigned Valentine. Hope you like the fic lovey. And you have one more small thing coming in a bit. This is part of @teamcap4bucky‘s Valentine Moodboard Challenge. Thank you for hosting!

***

There were few chores that you despised more than grocery shopping. It wasn’t so bad when it was just for you, but you lived with the Avengers. Most of the time you ordered the groceries and picked them up but you’d returned early from a mission and the fridge and cupboards were nearly bare.

When you headed out to the store, you’d intended to shop for your apartment only. That was enough of a task when you lived with two super soldiers and their increased metabolism. Once your teammates heard where you were going, you’d had one request after another until you were shopping for everyone. You’d agreed on the condition that Tony foot the bill. You could have covered it on your own, but that was beside the point. Being a superhero paid surprisingly well and your boys both had more money than they knew what to do with after receiving compensation from the government thanks to Tony’s well-paid attorneys.

Bucky and Steve had taken pity on you and come with you to do the shopping and you’d divided the list up so you could get done faster. You were in the produce aisle as you didn’t trust anyone else to make quality choices. You were comparing the list to your cart to see what other fruits and vegetables you needed when someone interrupted.

“That’s a lot of produce you’ve got there.”

You glanced to the man that had spoken and gave him a tight smile. “Well, it’s meant to feed a lot of people.”

“Do you own a restaurant or something? I bet you do. You look like a chef.” You blinked a couple of times at that. Just what did a chef look like, you wondered.

“Nope. Not a chef.” You shook your head once to emphasize your point and went back to checking your list.

“You look very familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

You suppressed a sigh and looked back to the man. He was handsome enough you supposed with close cropped blonde hair and the shadow of a beard on a square jaw, but you didn’t recognize him. “I don’t think so, sorry.”

“No. I’m sure I know you,” he insisted and stepped closer to you.

You arched a brow and pressed your lips into a thin line. This guy couldn’t take a hint. “Perhaps you do, but I don’t know you and I have shopping to do. If you’ll excuse me.” Being an Avenger meant you were a public figure whether you liked it or not so you tried to be polite whenever possible, but this guy was annoying you.

You turned your back to him as you counted apples and oranges. A hand grasped your elbow and you froze. No way was this guy that stupid. But as you turned slowly, you saw it was indeed the same man. “Did you just touch me?” You pitched your voice so it was louder than it had been, but not so loud you’d be overheard. Unless you happened to be shopping with a couple of super soldiers that were attuned to the sound of your voice, that is.

The man in front of you frowned. “I’m just trying to get your attention that’s all. It’s rude to turn your back on someone when they’re talking to you.”

“It’s also rude to force someone to talk to you when they clearly don’t want to. I think perhaps you need a refresher course in manners.” You crossed your arms over your chest and arched a brow as you spoke to him.

He laughed, a deep rumbling sound that rolled up from his belly. He evidently found you amusing. “And who’s going to give it to me? You?”

“Ordinarily, yes. But as I said I have shopping to do.” You shifted your gaze from him to the men behind him. “This man needs to learn to leave a lady alone when she’s not interested.”

“That so?” Steve said, his blue eyes sparking with anger. He knew you were fully capable of handling yourself, which made it that much more satisfying when you let him do it for you.

Hearing Steve’s deep voice, the man turned and his eyes went wide as he took in your soldiers. “Now listen fellas—”

“I don’t think he wants to talk to us, Steve. Perhaps we should escort him outside and have a discussion about boundaries.” The wicked grin that accompanied Buck’s statement had you smiling.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Steve tossed an arm around the man’s shoulders to steer him toward the door. They wouldn’t actually hurt him, but they’d scare him enough that he might think twice about the way he treats women.

“Hurry back, boys. We’ve got shopping to finish,” you instructed as you grabbed the front of the cart they’d left behind and pulled it after you so you could keep filling both of them.

“Yes, dear,” came in unison as they headed outside with their new friend.

“That was…fantastic,” a voice said, catching your attention. You glanced up to find a petite woman staring between you and the front of the store with wide eyes. “That guy’s a jerk. He’s always bothering me when I come in here.”

You grinned at her. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that any more by the time the boys are finished.”

She nodded as if still in a bit of a daze. “Are they both with you? I mean are you with them? I mean—I’m sorry, that’s probably none of my business.”

You heard Steve and Buck talking and laughing as they came back into the store and you turned to smile at them. Catching your eye, they both smiled back and your insides went warm as they always did when they turned that attention on you. “Yeah, they’re mine,” you said as you turned back to her. “They were just so pretty I couldn’t decide so I kept them both.” You gave a little shrug of your shoulders.

She returned your smile as the boys reclaimed their cart. Arms wrapped around you from behind and you knew without checking that it was Bucky. By this point, you could tell them apart blindfolded. You knew this for a fact after they got bored one night and decided to test you. He nestled his face into your neck and pressed a kiss just below your ear. “Making friends, doll?”

“Actually, the guy you got rid of has been harassing her as well,” you explained.

Steve pushed his cart up until it was even with yours and he leaned over to give you a kiss. When he pulled away, he turned his attention to the other woman. “I don’t think you’ll need to be worrying about him anymore.”

“Sorry to hurry off, but we have ice cream,” Bucky said nudging you forward.

You turned to look at him. “I told you to get that last so it’s not all melty. I hate that.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t get ours yet. Just Clint’s and Sam’s.”

You chuckled as you shook your head. Of course. You glanced between the carts. While you hadn’t gotten everything on the list, you had enough here to last for a couple of days. “Go grab ours then let’s get out of here before you guys cause any more trouble.”

Bucky took over pushing your cart and huffed a laugh. “Yeah, we’re the ones causing trouble.”

Steve grinned at you as he followed behind Buck. “You do realize that we chase guys off from you nearly every time we go out?”

You shrugged as you grasped his arm and leaned your head against it while you walked. “What can I say? I’m a catch.”

Both men laughed and Steve was still chuckling as he leaned over to kiss the top of your head. “That you are, doll.”

As you slid into a line, Bucky turned and motioned for you to come to him. You did, resting your head against his chest as his arms wrapped around you. “Thanks for keeping us, Y/N.”

Your face heated slightly and you turned so you were buried more tightly against his chest. “Heard that, did you?”

There was a sound of agreement from both men. “I don’t know how I feel about being called pretty,” Steve admitted.

You shrugged. “Then I suppose you should have tried harder to be ugly.”

Their laughter surrounded you. And there, in the middle of the afternoon, as you waited in line at the supermarket, you were with the men you loved and you couldn’t have been happier. 

***

Marvel:  @evyiione @gabriellewritermua @reblogger-not-a-blogger @youclickedthislink 

All the Things:  @swanky-batman @rissyrapp20 @startrekkingaroundasgard @spooookyscary @taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @collette04 @shatteredabby @laneygthememequeen

[tremendouscreationperson]

Nygmobblepot imagine

Set during and after that car scene

Nygma obviously wants to jump on Oswalds lap but Os can't see it

"Thank you Oswald." Ed's hand reached for his knee

Oswald pat the hand before crossing his legs and saying "oh, that wasn't me. But I thought you could use a friend."

The word friend hurts Ed but not as much as Oswald telling the driver to drop Ed at a safe house

"A safe house aren't we going home?" Ed couldn't believe it, they'd lived together for months before they were arrested and now the was being dropped off at a safe house!

The trial hadn't been easy, they had a attorney who told them that if they claim they worked together but against the other gangs they'd be out in the minimum amount of time

Yet Ed saw through Dent's plan (there would be no minimum if they claimed to work together - Ed could take the brunt of it because how could Oswald survive 40 years locked up?!) and realised he had to separate himself and the penguin

Oswald was confused as Edward explained that it was the Riddler not him who did these things (he even added some extra ticks that he knew would sell the insanity plea)

Was that why Oswald was being distant? Because they didn't get locked up together? Or because they weren't able to label what was happening those precious months before

It was new and gentle, Oswald knew that Ed followed his heart and came back, he knew the sub could be manned but a single captain

And Ed knew that his previous actions were from a place of warmth and, despite his caution, love

So there were frequent hugs and the odd kiss on the forehead or nose, Oswald would drive him wild when he kissed his neck as they hugged

Once they even fell asleep wrapped up together on the sofa and Ed saw the look in Oswald's eye

But nothing more happened

Nothing that could ruin what little they had

Until, of course, Jim Gordon arrested them

They were in the kitchen, Oswald sat on a counter as Ed laughed into his shoulder "that was not a riddle." Were the last words spoken between them

Or the last that counted

A bump in the road stopped Ed's brain and he looked over to Oswald

He was larger now but that made him all the more desirable

His leg must have gotten worse because a cane was held in between his hands

And his eye really fit his character well, it took Ed a while to stop hating himself for Oswalds eye but he has come to terms with it and actually likes it

"You look really good." Edward removed a glove to slowly touch Oswalds sideburn

Ozzie's eyes found their shoes but he turnt himself towards Ed

Edwards hand cupped his face, thumb stroking his cheek

"You too, dea- Edward."

"Oswald?" Ed frowns but the car halts and they're home

Together

At last

It's late so neither have dinner but they do share tea and biscuits

Edward sat next to Oswalds usual spot but the latter surprised him by sitting opposite him on the other sofa

That hurt Edward again

They shared a few stories from their time away but they were mostly silent - both just glad to be back home

Oswald stands first and announces that he's going to bed

"No, Oswald-" Ed stands stopping Ozzie in his tracks but he doesn't know what to say, he hasn't made a plan

Or he had 'find Oswald and fuck him' he had tried in the car but now he could see that wasn't a sufficient plan

"No, you go to bed, that's probably a good idea."

But yet again Edward stopped Oswald, again, grabbing his hand

"Thank you." He pulled Os towards him, both hands cradling Oswalds

"It wasn't me. Don't worry."

And with that they both returned to their respective rooms and it only occurred to Ed when he was dressing that he should have just stuck to the plan

Oswald was so good looking, he'd really done alright in prison

If only Ed had just climbed onto his lap and rode him all the way home

"Fuck it." Riddler spat before standing and trying to come up with something else but all he could think of was Oswald

Only Os could distract Edward from making a plan to get into Os's pants

Edward paced around his room before he walked out of the door and to Oswalds opposite

"Oswald, I need you to help me with a problem." He spoke entering the room

Os let out a shriek before crouching and pulling on his dressing gown

"Edward! I'm only half dressed! Wh-what is the problem?"

He wore only trousers and the gown, his monocle discarded

Ed took a moment to process before walking towards him, placing a hand on his cheek

"The problem is that I have spent 10 years without you and now I would very much like to continue where we left off."

"Where we left off?" Os laughed pulling his cheek out of Eds hand, "you abandoned me! 'I'm Edward and I'm insane! Lock Penguin up he's stupid!'."

"I left you to save you, I took the blame, you were following orders and now we're both here 10 years later. It would've been a life sentence." Edward again took Oswalds hands "being without you was very painful."

"You keep hurting me." Oswald shrugged one shoulder in defeat. "I hold my heart in my hand and every time I think we have a chance at something you fuck it up! Ed, I wouldn't have minded a life sentence if you were there."

"I'm here now."

Penguin chuckled weakly

"And I love you."

Penguin froze at that

"That's not fair."

"I do. Please. It'll be like before except I'm not being an idiot this time." Os shook his head tears pooling, "you were the only person who showed me real love, I bullied Kristen into it because I was obsessed with her - Isabella just reminded me of her - and Lee.. let's not talk about that. But you Oswald.. you and I-" He cut himself not sure what to say

"I thought of you." Penguin spoke. "I thought of how we were and how we'd just have to be 'brothers' because I can't do it again."

"And I thought of you everyday, your picture was in the paper on the 27th of September and I kept it under my pillow. Os, I tried to plan for every reunion but the common factor was 'get to him and get inside of him'. I've been trying to fuck you all night."

Neither knew who was speaking whether it was Ed or Riddler but they knew that the confession was real

Oswalds brows raised at this and he walked away from Ed to sit on the edge of his bed. He let out a shaky breath before he shook his head.

Ed walked up to him and crouched resting his head on Oswalds thigh

This position reminded him of the time before, where he'd massage Oswalds leg, their own form of physiotherapy

"Does your leg hurt?"

"That's not what's troubling me at this moment Edward. The man I love who didn't love me is now telling me he loves me. I think I need a minute."

"Take all the time you need." He said taking hold of Oswalds leg, rolled up the silk bottoms and began to massage it

He allowed himself to go higher than before

"I'm not what I was before." Penguin spoke "I'm... I ache more and I'm.. well look at me."

"I would but you've got a robe on. I can't see all off you."

"Yeah all of me."

"Oswald you know I don't care about your size, I love you."

"Stop saying that."

"No. I know it now and I'm not going to stop."

Oswald chuckled, "Jim visited me once and told me that married couples get visits and better perks - he was telling me that we should get married. Jim Gordon thought we were a couple."

"We were almost back then, the hugs, the kisses. I think we could continue that." His hands rested on Oswalds thighs "I know you want it too. Pupil dilation, elevated heart rate. Just say yes."

"Okay." He whispered

Edward smiled wide, biting his bottom lip

Ed kissed Oswalds hand and reached up to kiss his cheek but Oswald pulled him in for a real kiss

One that said you let me down but you're here, you should have kissed me years ago but let's forget that because you're here let's just be us

And Eds plan worked out - he saw him and he blew him then fucked him then he rode him and then they laid blissfully together

In a bed they had both wanted to share but neither had the courage to ask

They laid kissing eachother slowly hands wandering

Oswald accepted that Ed finally loved him

And Ed accepted his love finally - how could someone so smart be so genuinely stupid?

They woke in eachothers arms and all was well

Until the papers spoke of a mysterious Bat figure

[withastolenlantern]

The lobby to the Shinjuku police precinct was packed. A mass of bodies occupied the lobby, ebbing and flowing as uniformed officers dragged several men across the open area, their hands zip-tied together behind their backs, and many others stood or sat taking statements or arguing with Yokota assumed to be attorneys in a jumble of dialects and languages.

The hospital administrator hadn’t been particularly interested in the report of their findings. “It’s one old woman,” she’d cautioned Yokota. He protested, but to no avail. They were directed to destroy the sample and get back to more… productive pursuits. Midori was incensed, but the older doctor cautioned him to follow the directives. They autoclaved the remainder of the sample, except for the small remainder Yokota was carrying now.

The doctor approached the desk sergeant with confusion. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“What?” the sergeant yelled in response over the roar of activity.

“I said, ‘what’s going on?’ Is it always this busy here?” Yokota repeated, louder.

“Part of the refugee crisis,” the sergeant explained. He gestured toward the officers leading the handcuffed men. “Human traffickers. Port authority found an entire shipping container full of NorKs held in bond. These guys smuggled them out, but then were planning to sell them off to the Triad or boryuks. We’re having a hard enough time managing the regime collapse over there without having to deal with this crap too.” 

The banality of the officer’s explanation took Yokota somewhat aback. He supposed that the police eventually became inured to the plights of the common just as his profession had hardened him against some of the grotesqueries of human anatomy. It was an unpleasant if familiar thought.

“What are you here for?” he asked Yokota.

The doctor produced a sealed vial of what remained of the red fluid they had tested. “My name is Doctor Shinichiro Yokota with the Tokyo Medical University Hospital. I need to talk to someone about this. I think it’s a new kind of drug or something, and it’s very dangerous.”

The sergeant took the vial from Yokota’s hand and swirled it around slightly. “Don’t think I’ve seen this before. Where’d you get it?”

“I, uh…” the doctor stammered, suddenly realizing he’d purchased the drugs completely illegally. “We found it in the jacket pocket of a patient.”

The sergeant looked at him with brief skepticism, considering the situation carefully, until behind Yokota one of the zip-tied men kicked and struggled free of the two officers holding him at the arms. He sprinted toward the door, but collapsed quickly as three other officers drove him to the ground in a dogpile. “Baka,” the desk sergeant swore, clearly very tired. “Vice is on the third floor. Ask for Lieutenant Matsuzaki.” 

Yokota sighed with relief. “Thank you.”

He followed the sergeant's directions to the elevator bank and rode to the third floor. The doors parted and revealed an open floor layout of desks alive with a flurry of activity. Uniformed and plain-clothes officers milled about, carrying chipped ceramic mugs of coffee, holo tablets and paper folios, and wax cartons of noodles. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it reminded him of any regular office floor he’d seen before, with no jail cells or tattooed gangsters. He realized perhaps for the first time that unlike the drama and intrigue the police holo serials suggested, these officers were mostly just normal people going about what for them was a normal job. 

Yokota approached a man in a collared shirt and tie, a badge hung loosely around his neck. “Excuse me, I need to see Lieutenant Matsuzaki” he explained.

“You have an appointment?” the detective asked.

“I’m a doctor,” he explained, showing the man his hospital credentials. “It’s important.” 

The detective sighed, and then gestured for Yokota to follow. He led Yokota to an office near the corner of the building and paused in the doorway as the woman inside finished a call. She gestured them into the office as she terminated the call. “Somebody here to see you, ma’am. Says he’s a doctor.” 

“I don’t have any doctors on my schedule,” she replied, looking at the holo monitor on her desk.

“It’s urgent, ma’am,” Yokota insisted. “It’s about narcotics.”  

“You’ve got… five minutes,” she said, looking at the clock on her screen. “Thank you Tani, that’ll be all.” The detective left and the doctor took one of the two worn chairs in front of the lieutenant’s desk. The woman was middle-aged; perhaps in her early forties. Her jet black hair had started to go grey slightly at the temples, and she wore thin glasses in a navy cats-eye frame. The wall behind her was lined with commendations and photos of her shaking hands with other officers and dignitaries. Yokota felt he had come to the right place. He placed the vial onto the cracked formica surface along with his hospital ID. 

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” the woman asked.

“I was hoping you might be able to tell me,” the researcher responded. “It’s some kind of new street narcotic. Opioid-based, from what I can tell.”

The lieutenant lifted the vial up to the light and peered into it. It sloshed thickly around the plastic as she rotated it. “Never seen it before. Where’d you get it?”

“An old woman came into the hospital a week ago. She expired quickly under strange circumstances. We found some in her jacket pocket.”

“What kind of strange circumstances?” she asked, putting down the vial. 

“She bled out, almost like she had some kind of hemorrhagic virus. I’ve never seen it before,” he explained. “We needed more information, so I bought this particular sample on the street.” 

The lieutenant arched her eyebrows in response. “You bought this?”

“For research purposes,” the doctor continued, ignoring the insinuation. “We did some more testing. There’s something strange in there. An enzyme that shouldn’t be. Some kind of… nano-mechanical structure. It kills people.” 

“Where did you get it?” she pressed.

“Abandoned warehouse of some kind, over in Roppongi.” He gave her the address, and she immediately went into a trance or fugue state. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, as she was subvocalizing into some kind of throat microphone, likely into a police-wide radio channel, but it was clear she was calling for officers to investigate the location. 

She returned to normality just as soon as she had left it. “Is this the only sample you have?”

“Yes,” the doctor half-lied. He’d kept the vial he found in his son-in-law’s bag, and stored it in the freezer in his apartment. He told himself that it was valuable to his investigation, and that it would only do more harm than good to drag his family into it. Those justifications did not come without shame; history was rife with disasters when those with power or knowledge chose to put themselves above the moral good. But his daughter was all he might have left, soon, and his selfish impulses outweighed all else.

“Okay. Walk me through this again,” she instructed with a healthy amount of skepticism. “Someone is selling these new opiates on the open market, and they’re cut with some kind of… chemicals?”

“An esterase. It’s an enzyme that breaks down polymers,” he corrected.

“...and some kind of nano-whatever…”

“Tungsten-based MEMS device.”

“...that you think is killing people? And this is all based on a theory from one old lady?” the lieutenant finished.

Yokota frowned. “When you say it like that it sounds crazy.”

“Okay, so you hear it too. I’ve worked vice for the metropolitan police for seventeen years. I’ve never once seen what you’re describing. I’m sure you’re an excellent researcher, but...” she trailed off back into her trance state.

“Lieutenant…?” he asked after a moment.

She snapped back instantaneously. “The uniformed officers we dispatched to the warehouse say it’s completely empty. No traces of anything illicit.”

“That’s impossible,” Yokota gasped.

The lieutenant sighed. She put her hands down onto her desk gently and sat up straight. She looked him in the eye with an expression he knew all too well; it was the same he’d given his grand-daughter and daughter before her when he was about to explain something he knew they’d rather not hear. “Look, Doctor, I understand your concern. But even if what you say is true, which I’m not convinced of, what would you like me to do about it? Drug cases are tough to pursue, and our resources are thin right now. I assume you passed through the lobby and saw our current ‘refugee’ problem. I just don’t have the officers to spare chasing a theory. Can you provide me a dealer, besides the one who ‘disappeared’? A source of supply?”

“...I cannot,” he replied sheepishly.

“Then I think we’re through here. I appreciate you coming forward with this, but if and until you have more concrete evidence, or something more than speculation, then come back to me. Leave the sample, if you want. We’ll certainly catalogue it for now.” Her tone wasn’t dismissive so much as it was one of pure disregard, and it told him there was no point in leaving anything here, lest he never see it again.

“Thank you for your time,” Yokota replied and got up to leave. He slid the sample back into his pocket, and exited the lieutenant’s office. As he walked to the elevator, he noticed the detective he’d spoken to earlier; he appeared to be eyeing the doctor closely as he spoke into an earpiece attachment for his mobile.

The doctor entered the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor. The doors closed, and he slammed his fist against the wall in frustration. How could he have been so foolish? It was folly to assume he would be believed. This was not the same world he had been brought up in, one of order and morality. This was a new world, now, of chaos and imbalance. What was the value of one woman’s life, so old and frail and driven to desperation? Would his death too be so callously discounted? Perhaps that was why Tomoko had walked out into the bay and never come back; to spare herself this unbecoming. He resigned himself to toss away the sample when he returned to the hospital, and be done with this whole misadventure. 

He exited the police station and lit a cigarette.The Shinjuku precinct was only a half block across the Kita Dori from the hospital, and he wanted to steady his nerves before returning to work. He noticed a man directly across the precinct entry awning, hovering about, also smoking and half-heartedly staring at his mobile. Every once in a while he glanced up toward Yokota, careful never to make eye contact. 

The doctor stamped out his cigarette on the concrete and started to cross the street. As he waited for the pedestrian crossing indicator to turn, he saw the man similarly put out his butt and follow to the intersection. The light changed, and the doctor crossed rapidly, trying to appear nonchalant. Perhaps it was simply residual paranoia for telling half-truths to the police, but he felt suddenly very aware of his surroundings. 

The man hurried across the street behind Yokota, several meters back, and followed as he started up the street toward the hospital. The man was walking with purpose now, faster, and clearly staring at Yokota. The doctor quickened his pace, and he saw the man panic and break into a sprint. 

As they approached the hospital, Yokota cut right and ducked down the stairs into the Nishi-Shinjuku Metro station. He topped his rail pass to the turnstile and hurried through the terminal, looking behind to see the man fumbling in his pockets for his own IC card. Yokota spring across the platform and quickly squeezed through the throngs of other passengers into the Marunouchi Line train just as the doors closed. The train lurched into motion, and saw the man left stranded on the platform, huffing and pulling out his mobile.

[katmstanton]

Oceans - Ch. 22

Tags: @mrsrafaelbarba @madpanda75 @sweetsummertime99 @obfuscateyummy @julie-yard

Chapter 22:

“Where is she?! Olivia! Let me see her!”

He ran into the waiting room meeting Cragen and Fin like a brick wall. Both men grabbed him and stopped him before he could break through the doors.

“Counselor.”

Fin was trying to calm him down but knew Barba’s pain and knew the three of them were thinking the same thing.

“No! Let me go! I need to see her!” Barba screamed, half in spanish, as he tried to wrangle free of Fin’s grasp.

“Look we haven’t heard anything yet. All we know is her and Stabler came in together. We don’t even know who is hurt yet.”

“Let me go Detective!” Barba grunted with pure hatred mixed with worry coming from his lips.

He tried to pull free again but Fin held him tighter. With Cragen standing by just in case he needed to grab him again as well.

Barba looked at Fin and stated, through gritted teeth, eyes swollen, and with fire in his breath, “Estás jugando con el chico equivocado.”

“Barba we don’t know anything. For all we know it’s Elliot back there and she just rode the bus in with him.”

Barba’s eyes pierced him. Rafael knew. He didn’t need anyone to tell him or to confirm the news. He knew, in his heart and gut, that it was Olivia hurt and not Elliot. He would bet money on the exact time it happened as well.

He had been reading to Noah before dinner when his heart felt like it had shattered, like it had been taken out and ripped apart. He knew before his phone even rang that something had happened. When Fin had called him he could only say one word, “Where,” before calling his mother to sit with Noah.

Cragen walked closer to the two men and placed a shoulder on Fin to signal he would be okay with the younger man.

“Barba.. you’ve got to calm down. You can’t see her like this.” Cragen stated as he looked at the red eyed lawyer in front of him.

“Come. Sit.”

“Captain.”

“Don. Please. I haven’t been ‘Captain’ in years.” Cragen stated as he offered a warm smile to the emotional District Attorney in front of him.

“You love her don’t you?” Cragen asked looking at Barba with a fatherly look.

Rafael had his head in his hands, fingers gripping his hair. The usually put together ADA was falling apart in front of his eyes. He felt for the man and knew without any words the answer to his question. He knew Rafael was in love and from what Fin and Munch had told him he also knew she felt the same. In all his years of knowing Olivia he had never known her to have a love like this.

What he was seeing from the man sitting beside him was not that of Elliot or anyone else. It was that of Rafael Barba. It was an entirely different love. One where both parties were equals. He knew without any words being spoken this would be the man she would marry and raise a family with.

“Have you asked her?”

Barba looked up at the older man and gave a small smile with tears in his eyes.

“It’s not that simple, Don.”

Barba said quietly as he looked down at his folded hands. He leaned forward, putting his head in his hands while leaning on his knees. He spoke a prayer in every language he knew for her to be okay, for her to live and make it through.

He prayed for him to take her spot and for him to be the one with the bullet. He prayed for her pain to be taken and if that meant he would leave this world and never see her or Noah again so be it. He would take her place, no questions asked.

“I have known Olivia for almost 20 years and I have never seen her as happy, as loved, as I have when she is with you and with Noah.” Cragen stated as he heard Barba let out a quiet sob.

“I can’t lose her Don. She is the light and color in my world. Without her everything is dark. Everything is grey. I need her… Noah needs her.”

Rafael let out the breath he was holding and allowed the tears to continue down his face. Cragen knew there was nothing anyone could say or do until they knew more from the doctors. He too knew it was Olivia hurt and not Elliot, even if no one wanted to acknowledge it.

Cragen patted Barba’s shoulder in a fatherly way and kept the others away while allowing both of them time to collect their thoughts and emotions. Cragen knew Barba was thinking the worst and he did not blame the man due to the misfortunes over the last few years with the unit.

As Cragen sat there with Barba he heard the doors open to show Elliot walking into the waiting room towards the group as he did Cragen felt the heat radiating off Barba like a torch as his worst fears were realized in full scale.

Cragen and Fin shared a look between them but before either man could say, or do, anything Barba was barreling towards Elliot with closed fists ready for a fight with the larger man.

“You son-of-a-bitch!” Barba yelled as he made his way towards Elliot.

“You just had to pull her in on an undercover didn’t you? Just had to get her alone with you. To what? Try to win her heart? You had your chance! Hell you had 12 years of chances! You brought her into this, you didn’t have her back, you didn’t protect her!” Barba spat as both he and Elliot locked eyes and stood their grounds.

Cragen and Fin standing behind each of them shocked at Barba’s words and not knowing what would come next.

“I did not make her do anything Counselor. She made the decision to go undercover by herself. I don’t know if you know this or not but it is quite hard to make Olivia do anything. She is a strong woman and makes her own decisions.” Elliot said back through gritted teeth.

Elliot’s eyes, as hot as blue flames, met the dark, anger filled, emerald eyes of Rafael. Both men stared at each other in a battle of wills and both wanting to throw the first and last punch.

“I. Know. Olivia.” Barba spat back.

“If it's anything to you Counselor I did have her back and I did protect her! She’s my partner. I trusted her intuition and her judgement. I trust her with my life. Maybe you should do the same.” Elliot seethed as his face came a meer inch from Rafael’s.

As Barba went ro raise a fist at the him Cragen and Fin stepped in between the two. Stopping Rafael from doing anything that would make the situation worse. Although Fin would have let him get a few hits in before pulling him off the detective.  

“Family of Olivia Benson?” The doctor asked as he walked in the waiting room and noticed the heated energy between everyone.

“That would be all of us Doc.” Cragen replied as the doctor and him shared a look.

“Okay.. I am Dr. Reynolds. Ms. Benson’s condition is not good. She has stabilized but she is not out of the woods yet. We were able to get the bullet and it’s fragments out with relatively little additional damage. But she did have some serious internal injuries.”

“What does that mean? Is she.  Going to be okay?” Elliot asked before anyone else could and Barba side-eye glared at him as he did, still seething and glad Fin and Cragen were between the two.

“Honestly? We don’t know. She is still unconscious at the moment so we won’t know most of her damages until she is awake. The bullet tore threw her left lung and she did break 2 ribs as the bullet hit her. She seems to have a nasty concussion from the fall.”

As he continued to talk Barba felt his world was ending and after a few minutes asked the doctor, “What is her prognosis doc?”

“Best case? She wakes up within the next few hours and has no brain damage from the fall and her body continues to heal quickly.”

“Worst case?” Elliot asked.

Dr. Reynolds looked at Elliot and at the group with the answer in his eyes. Barba saw the look and already knew what it meant. He felt his heart break a second time as his eyes filled with tears.

“Let’s focus on the good. Okay? Ms. Benson, Olivia, is a very health and active woman and that is working in her benefit. For now we wait and monitor her through the night. I can’t allow all of you back there but I might be able to let one of you stay with her tonight.”

Barba looked at Cragen and Fin who both nodded before stating, “I’ll be with her. She’s my girlfriend.”

He did not care that Elliot had already taken a few steps towards the doctor to go with him. He didn’t care that Elliot felt that it was his place beside Olivia. Hell, he didn’t even care if he never saw the man.

What he did care about was the woman down the hall who needed him. He cared about the toddler at home with his abuela who needed his mother. He cared about the life they had yet to spend together, the children they had yet to have, and the question he had yet to ask.

Dr. Reynolds parted with Barba towards Olivia’s room. As the two men walked Dr. Reynolds discussed with Barba how Olivia would look and that she would be asleep still but he hoped she would wake within the next hour or two.

He encouraged Barba to talk with her and to sit and stay as long as he liked. As they approached the room Dr. Reynolds took his leave and allowed Barba to be alone with Olivia for the first time in over a week.

When he walked into the room he lost his breath and his heart stopped. Olivia was still asleep and was covered in wires and IVs. He wished he could take her place and that he was the one in the bed and she was fine.

As he sat next to her in the extra seat he looked at her. He looked at the beauty that radiated from her even when she was asleep.

“Mi amor.”

He took Olivia’s hand in his and prayed once again. He spent the next three hours with her never changing positions. The nurses and doctors had came and went but he remained at her side.

“Olivia, mi amor, please wake up. Noah and I need you.” He stated and as the tears started again he lifted his head and prayed.

Barba prayed for life, for love, for a new beginning. He prayed for Olivia, for Noah. He prayed more than he had since he was a small boy asking God to help him with his father.

As the hours passed his heart continued to break little by little with every visit by the doctor and no changes seen.

He promised himself if she woke he would not lose her again.

He would ask her something that he was terrified of asking and if you had told him a year ago what he was thinking at this moment he would have laughed.

As he continued to hold her hand he started to softly sing switching from English to Spanish and back again.

As he started on the second verse of her favorite song he felt it. The slight tug of a finger.

His eyes, red and swollen, bulged at he looked up into the dark brown eyes of Olivia and his heart stopped and his breathing rattled.

“Raf..”

“I am here mi amor. I am not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.” Barba said as he hit the call button on the bed and leaned up to kiss her forehead.