#and that disconnect keeps breaking their little hearts even though they’re both Right There

[galpalaven]

I need to you all to understand that I am so so so unwell about G’raha Tia and the Warrior of Light

[erodasfishtacos]

how about when they first noticed ezra was a nervous and anxious baby ?

Seperation

prompt: the moment when h and yn decide that Ezra needs to see a therapist.

warnings: angst

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enjoy 😊

—

It’s late at night, like 3 in the morning, and Harry was down in Atlanta for three games with the Braves.

Easton and Cash had long adjusted to their father being away for short spurts of time - doesn’t mean they don’t miss him but they know he’ll come back to them.

Ezra was another story.

YN felt dread anytime he went away for a game because her youngest got so anxious and had trouble sleeping.

He was usually okay during the day (Harry was gone for practice and obligations during most mornings and afternoons).

It was at night time.

She really didn’t want to call and bother her husband because he had just played a game that went into three innings of overtime and had gotten a gnarly bruise on his thigh from a ball hitting him as he batted.

When they’d FaceTimed after the game, about eight, he had been so exhausted in his hotel room that his eyes were nearly closing as he spoke to her.

Now at three, three in the morning, Ezra still hasn’t went to bed because of how fussy and tearful he was - babbling about his father.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” He was whining into his mother’s neck, his hot tears rolling down his cheeks and onto her skin.

“Ezzie, baby. We have to calm down. Mama’s here and daddy is okay, he’s just working,” She murmured to him for the hundredth time that night.

YN was sat in the den with him because she didn’t want him waking up his brothers or his little sister who just begun to sleep through the night for the most part.

At one point, she did stir for a night feeding, and as YN sat on her bed - Briar latched sleepily, Ezra was nestled tightly into her other side.

When it hit three-thirty, she began to feel herself get frustrated because she couldn’t fix the situation - no matter what she did.

She knew once tears began rolling down her own cheeks that she had to call Harry.

It was never that she was worried he would be mad that she called, she just felt guilty because he had worked so hard already that day.

YN reaches for her phone, taking a deep inhale before pressing his contact for facetime.

It rings three times before it’s picked up, completely dark in his room, and he rasps out drowsily, “Wha’s going on, mama? Y’alright? The babies alright?”

“I-I can’t get him to settle,” YN takes a deep breath, the sleep deprivation making her want to just break down and sob.

“Daddy? Daddy, daddy, daddy,” Ezra just chants, eyes wide on the screen, searching for his father to just appear but all he sees is darkness.

That causes him to just start bawling his eyes out when he can’t will his father onto the phone like he wants.

“Whoa, Ezzie. Sweet boy, c’mon. Y’gotta breathe s’daddy can understand you,” Harry coos, stirring to turn on the light and illuminate his pillow-creased face.

“Daddy!” His voice is shrill, high-pitched and it makes YN’s ears ring.

“Ezra Duke,” Harry says a little more firmly, “Daddy can’t understand you when you scream, okay?”

The little boy sniffles and tries to catch his breath, leaning into where YN is rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“Miss you,” His son whimpers sadly, bringing his voice down a notch, “Come home, please.”

“I am flying’ home tomorrow, bab. Daddy will be home around noon but you have to be good for mama,” He says, voice still smooth and calm.

“Now!” Ezra screams in a way he usually never does and then continues, “Now! Now daddy! Now!”

Both parents are taking aback, Harry with wide eyes and parted lips as he watching his son through his phone and YN just squeezes her eyes shut, exhaling out of her mouth.

“Mama, breathe,” Harry directs towards her, can tell how overwhelmed she is getting from all the chaos of his screaming.

“Daddy, daddy,” Ezra blubbers, green eyes angry and anxious at the same time, “Please, home!”

YN hears noise from behind her, to see her eight year old padding into the room with his unruly curls poking every which way.

“Mama, is Ezzie okay?” Easton wonders, knuckling his eyes sleepily and then Cash follows right behind him in his dinosaur pajamas.

“Fuck, he woke up the boys,” YN informs Harry tearfully, “I just…I don’t know what to do. I can’t do anything to make him feel better.”

The older boys peek into the screen to smile at their dad and Harry gives them a tense smile, “Hi boys, I know Ez is being loud but can y’two be good f’your mama and go back to bed?”

They agree, giving their upset brother a kiss and then their mom before talking quietly to each other as they walk up the stairs.

“Daddy? Home, please! Hold me!” Ezra wails, clinging to his mother’s neck tightly enough to hurt as he tantrums.

“This is the worst it’s ever been, he’s normally stopped before I’ve had to call you,” YN groans, rocking him swiftly against her for lack of a better idea.

“Wait…” Harry sits up, scrubbing a hand over his puffy face, “Has this been happening’ every time m’away?”

“It just started two to three months ago but he’s always been able to be calmed down within an hour or so,” YN replies, shushing Ezra as he babbles over and over again daddy, daddy, daddy.

Harry’s jaw tightens and his frown settles into a deep crease, “Well why a’ve you not told me that m’baby has been cryin’ for me when I’m gone? Do y’not think that’s important?”

YN recognizes his irritation and is running on less than five hours of sleep over two days and may he’s it back with an even sharper tone.

“We can’t change that you’re gone. I’m trying to handle it, Harry.”

“Y’not doin’ a bloody good job at it!” Harry bites back in frustration, heart pounding in desperation as he hears his son cry for him.

“Daddy, daddy, come on.”

Then YN looks at him with watering, hurt eyes, “I’m doing my best. You’re not here, I can’t make you appear. I’m trying to calm him down without having to wake you up.”

And Harry shouldn’t but he’s angry and misses his babies - all of them but especially the one who needs him the most right now.

“Y’dont think I deserve to know tha’ Ezra’s been acting like this?” Harry snaps before adding, “In this situation, y’best isn’t good enough because he’s still crying and y’still haven’t been able to settle him.”

And wow, those words hit her like a ton of bricks. It was instilling all the insecurities that she had bubbling in her chest.

In this situation, y’best isn’t good enough because he’s still crying and y’still haven’t been able to settle him.

Harry automatically knows that he spoke before he thought and he let his stressed out mind say untrue hurtful things.

He part his lips about to speak before YN cuts him off.

“If you can do it so much better than me, fucking good you. Then come home and fix this because I give up,” YN laughs without humor, finger finding the red button to hang out and disconnecting.

Harry tried calling back over and over and over but YN just hangs her head, sniffling, as she watches her tired, anxious little son finally drift off to sleep.

At some point, her phone stops ringing when he’s given up and it doesn’t ring again until for another thirty minutes.

She knew he was going to keep calling until she picked up - had been that way since they first started dating.

By now, Ezra was asleep in his room and YN was sat against their headboard - having tossed the tear soaked shirt she had on off and was feeding Briar once more.

The millionth facetime request comes through and finally she swipes to answer, he’s furious right as they connect, “D’you have any idea how worried I am? Y’cant ju-“

He stops himself when he sees his baby girl pop her head from her mother’s breast with puffy lips and look at the screen, “Dadadadada.”

“Oh, hi lil’ mama,” Harry changes his tone completely, face softening - “Did I interrupt y’eatin’? S’mama being so nice and feeding you?”

Briar just smiles with a gapped baby tooth smile, a dimple pushing into her left cheek as she does so.

“Guess I’m good for one thing, right? A fucking milk-maker,” YN scoffs at her husband’s opposite tone as she guides Briar gently back down to finish her meal.

Harry frowns, “Y’know tha’s not anything near the truth and tha’ I think you’re the best mama to our babies. M’just upset.”

“You told me my best wasn’t good enough, I can’t believe you would say something like tha’ to me,” YN begins to sniffle again.

“Sweetheart, m’sorry. I ju-“

“What did you call for, Harry? It’s nearly four-thirty in the morning and I haven’t slept for nearly two days now. I want to feed her and go to sleep,” YN’s voice is disconnected and exhausted.

“To talk, I didn’t say how I was feeling correctly-“

“When you come home tomorrow you can fix everything and I’ll let you because I’m not doing a good enough job,” His wife cuts him off again.

Harry starts to feel a ball of worry form in his throat as he hears how unemotional and distance his wife sounds with him.

He had totally said the wrong things as his wife was just trying to do her best at balancing four babies while he was away.

“Please, let me apologize-“

“I would like to go to sleep. Please don’t call back,” YN responds before ending the phone call and leaving the screen dark.

They rarely ever fought. Especially like this.

He’s man enough to admit that he cries after he tries calling back (even though she said not to) and it went straight to voicemail.

-

He tries facetiming in the morning, at around nine right before if flight takes off - surprised when it actually was picked up.

Harry only sees YN for a brief moment before she’s propping up the camera on the kitchen table so that Easton and Cash are in view eating pancakes and Briar is in her high chair with blueberries staining her chubby cheeks.

Ezra must still be in bed.

“Hi bubbies,” Harry greets with a smile as they’re curls shake as they look up with excited smiles.

“Daddy! You comin’ home?” Cash squeaks excitedly through a mouthful of food.

“Hi dad!” Easton chimes in, waving.

Briar is only half-interested, more taken by the fact that if she squishes the berries between her fingers they turn mushy, babbles out a, “Daddadaa.”

“I’ll be home in like three hours, ‘kay” Harry informs them - his heart aches to be there right now with theme

“Ezzie cried all night,” Cash let’s his father know.

“Mama cried too,” Easton whispers, like it’s a secret that he doesn’t want her to hear, “I think she is really sad.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, “I know. Ezzie was sad last night. Can I talk to mama?”

Easton looks to his mother off camera as she must say something to him to repeat to Harry, “Mama said that she is busy and she’ll see you when you get home.”

He clenches his fist off camera, trying to smile but he knows it’s terse as he says, “Alright, I love you all. See y’when I get home.”

-

Meanwhile, YN gets all the children settled after breakfast.

Easton, Cash, and Ezra in the backyard - the two older ones digging holes for bugs and the younger playing in the sandbox.

Briar was snoozing in the cradle of YN’s elbow as she sat on a chaise - watching the kids.

She hits the number she was looking for, waiting for it to ring, and then she hears, “Hillside Pediatrics, this is Jess.”

The office knew the family well because Harry is Harry Styles and they have four children who visit there.

YN inquires about therapeutic options for him, resources, and if they had any recommendations for where to take him.

Like the super mom she is, she manages to set up an intake appointment that evening (which was a miracle on its own), call Anne and ask to watch the other children, and then take a deep breathe.

Harry steps through the back door, dressed in his usual Yankees hoodie, Nike shorts, and trainers looking tanner than before.

“Hi bubbies!” He greets, basking in when all of his children look up and squeal excitedly at the sight of their father.

Easton and Cash are the fastest, racing to cling to each legs and nuzzle into his thigh with a tight hug.

Ezra is slower, by the time he’s arrived to his father - there was no room for him to shuffle in and he automatically lets out an earth-shattering wail.

Just like before.

“Daddy! Hold me! Daddy, hold me please!” His youngest son begs desperately, stretching up his arms, and letting hot tears stream down his cheeks.

Harry tuts, reaching for him and popping him on his hip but Ezra has other ideas - scrambling until his nose is pressed into the curve of Harry’s neck with his arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Ezzie, c’mon now,” Harry titters softly, reaching down to give both of his other boys a kiss on the head before they dart back off to play.

“Daddy, miss you,” Ezra blubbers sadly, Harry wincing when his son yanks a bit in his longer curls by the nape of his neck.

“Y’okay, daddy’s got you. Relax, breathe bubba,” His father reassured him, swaying softly back and forth until he’s just sniffing.

“We have an appointment with a children’s play therapist for him later at five,” YN tells him, shushing Briar who’s squeaking from the noise.

Harry takes a deep inhale, “Okay, that sounds like a good idea. Can we talk now since y’been ignoring my calls?”

YN bristles at the attitude in his tone, “Excuse me if I’d rather not be critiqued on my skills as a mother when I am sleep-deprived and stressed out.”

He clenches his jaw, speaking lowly with firmness, “Y’bein’ absurd! I didn’t critique to you, y’blowing things out of proportion! Y’the one who didn’t tell me this was going on!”

“It didn’t get that bad until last night! I could handle it - he would just be upset for a little before bed but he’d never got that anxious before,” She justifies, returning the glare he’s giving her.

“Didn’t think y’could mentioned it to me? I have a right to know, he’s m’baby too. I could have fix this yet you were letting him suffer,” Harry bites out but know as soon as it’s out of his mouth that he wishes he could swallow the words back down.

You were letting him suffer.

YN doesn’t even argue back, just starts bawling because of how hurtful those words were and how could he even say that?

“Mama, fuck- I didn’t, I’m just-“

His wife gets up without a word, using Briar’s blanket to wipe at her wet cheeks, and vanishing through the sliding back doors.

Ezra was snoozing peacefully on him and he couldn’t leave the boys outside alone so he resorts to sitting down on one of the outdoor couches and curse internally.

He couldn’t believe he was being so cruel. He just felt so….betrayed that she hadn’t told him what had been going on and he felt like he was letting down Ezra.

It was a nasty feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach because he was away so much from his family and it was stressful for everyone.

He wanted to cry at the idea of his son crying for him every night.

-

Harry starts to get anxious when YN isolates herself in their bedroom with Briar for the next upcoming hours.

He knocks softly, opening the door to YN turned on her side away from him, under the covers, with Briar asleep in her bassinet asleep.

“Mama? Y’awake?” Harry murmurs cautiously with a sandwich and chips since she’d disappeared and hadn’t been down once, water in the other hand.

“Are the boys okay?” YN asks quietly, not bothering to turn over to face him.

“Yes, babies are fine. They’re watchin’ Toy Story right now, eatin’ lunch,” Harry replies, eyes falling in his beautiful little daughter.

“If the boys are fine then I don’t want you in here,” YN tells him with an angry tone but low enough that it won’t disturb Briar.

Harry nearly whimpers.

“Baby, please. We need to talk-“

“If the boys are fine, I want you to leave me alone.”

Harry hesitates by the door, feeling helpless as he slips the plate onto the dresser in case she is hungry but he doubts she’ll touch it.

“Alright, I’ll leave y’be. Call me if y’need anythin’ or help with Briar,” He offers, trying to buy time in the room.

She laughs sarcastically, “Yeah, I’ll make sure you’re notified because I can’t do a good enough job myself.”

Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to conjure up the perfect words to fix this situation but it’s interrupted.

“Daddy? Daddy? Where? Hold me!” Ezra screeches as Easton stands outside the door with him, holding his hand.

“Dad, he won’t stop,” The oldest complains with annoyance as Ezra scurries to his father and up into his arms.

“Daddy daddy,” He chants into his father’s skin with relief.

“Thank y’East, Ezzie’s been sad lately. Huh?” Harry replies, thumbing at Easton’s cheek.

The oldest shrugs, “Not always. Mama cheers him up all the time with kisses and hugs.”

Harry gazes back to the lump under the blankets and feels himself getting choked up. He really really regretted his words.

He didn’t regret being upset with her. He regrets the cheap shots he took at his wife who’s just trying to be a full time mom to his babies.

“Mama?” Ezra squeaks at the word, realizing he hasn’t seen her recently and then he’s back to tantruming, “Mama, mama, mama. Where’s mama?”

“M’right here, Ez,” YN murmurs, flipping to her other side so that her youngest could see her. His face lights up and he scurries to the bed, scampering up until his mom is tucking him under the blankets with her.

Harry’s heart aches when Ezra whimpers quietly and burrows into her warm chest with happiness that he found his mother.

“Y’got him?” Harry asks, hand raking through Easton’s curls as he leans into his father’s side.

“Can we go play now, dad?” Easton asks impatiently, tugging his father out of the room and down the staircase.

-

Anne shows up and the two older ones are so excited, bouncing up and down as they tug her into the backyard to show her the holes they dug with Briar popped on her hip - gnawing on her shirt collar.

YN brings Ezra down the stairs, curls tamed with a bit styling mousse and a little adias x disney outfit that was the cutest thing ever. ***

Harry reaches out to take Ezra off YN but he whines and shakes his head, clinging to his mother like it was life or death.

“No daddy! Mama!” Ezra pouts angrily, glaring at his father with protectiveness.

He puts his hands up, “Okay, okay. Y’can stay with y’mama.”

-

The car ride is silent, Harry doesn’t know what to say and YN isn’t giving him anything to work with. He feels like he’ll just say the wrong thing again.

When they pull up to the building and Harry puts it in park, he’s startled when his wife just starts bawling into her hands.

Harry freezes for a second with wide eyes before rumbling, “Mama, sweetheart. Please don’t cry, it breaks m’heart, darlin’.”

“I’m…I’m no-not a good mom,” YN cries, “I wanted to tell you but I was scared. I don’t want you to think I can’t handle raising our babies.”

Harry pries her hands away from her face, cupping her cheeks and firmly staring, full conviction in his voice, “If I didn’t think y’could handle four babies then I wouldn’t have put them in you. I wouldn’t talk about putting more in you.”

YN’s eyes are watering, letting Harry swipe the tears away with his thumbs as she inhales deeply, “I am so so sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t want you to worry when you’re away.”

Harry leans forward, kissing her harshly before whispering against her lips, “I don’t give a fuck about baseball in comparison to you and the kids. I’d give it up this second if y’asked. I want to worry because you’re the love of m’life and I’m y’husband - I’m here to support you and support our family.”

He continues, “I am a bit frustrated with you. I want you to tell me everything I miss when I’m gone even if it stresses me out or upsets me. Okay? But I shouldn’t have said hurtful things. You’re the best mama on this planet and y’treat our babies the best.”

YN nods, willing herself to stop crying as their appointment starts in ten minutes as she takes steady breathes.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry I let my pride get in the way. I just…I feel like you do everything for us and the least I could do is manage the kids,” She sighs with self-deprecation.

“Mama, just because one of our bubs needs therapy doesn’t mean you’re not doing a perfect job. We’ve always know Ezzie was an anxious baby. This is going to be good for him and for us, right?” He encourages, nosing at her cheek before she offers up her lips once more for a short kiss.

“I love you,” YN tells him, running a thumb of a light dusting of stubble on his jawline.

“Love y’more than anything,” He replies instantly.

-

Ezra is nervous as they step into the calming, peaceful office where there are neatly organized buckets of toys and shelves of books.

Patricia was a middle-aged woman with a kind smile who welcomed them in, she observed how Ezra had himself wrapped around his dad with hesitant green eyes peeking at her.

As they sit down, Patricia says softly, “This must be Ezra?”

They all wait for a moment before the toddler turns around to look at the woman and says timidly, “m’Ezzie.”

“Hi Ezzie,” The therapist greets and he gives her a cautious smile before nuzzling back into his father’s neck.

The discuss what has been going on. How Ezra has always been very nervous, anxious, cautious in a way that none of his other siblings are.

How he struggles when one of his parents is away from him, how he can get upset if he can’t find one of his siblings, or how much he worries about things most kids his age don’t worry about.

Patricia does an excellent job in calming down the parents, assuring them that it was nothing out of the norm, and that therapy would be beneficial for him.

She states that they’ll work a lot of feelings - being able to describe and recognize them. That will be one of the most important things.

Also working on his ability to calm down and cope with stressful situations, recommending once a week which of course his parents agreed to.

By the end of the intake, Ezra had ventured to take one of the baby dolls from a bin and bring it back to his father.

“Look daddy, s’a baby,” He lisps proudly, holding it up to show him.

“Good job, bubs,” Harry laughs, leaning to kiss his forehead - watching him toddle off to find more dolls to play with.

-

That night, after all the kids go to bed, and YN is finishing her final feeding with Briar in her nursery before putting in her crib.

Harry runs a nice, steaming bath with lavender bubbles and a candle burning with the lights dimmed low.

When she finds him, he slowly undresses her with warm kisses and praises of how good of a wife and mother she is.

They lay in there together, YN between his legs with her head rested on his chest, as his hands massage at her tummy and hips lovingly.

And yeah, everything is okay after that.

They get up the next day and everything is back to normal except now Ezra goes to therapy once a week with his parents.

(Ezra ends up working with Patricia until he’s in about sixth grade.)

[vivacissimx]

lyanna stark, a drop of the wolf-blood, & the pragmatism underneath

the youngest we see lyanna (in my estimation), is this vision from bran

Now two children danced across the godswood, hooting at one another as they dueled with broken branches. The girl was the older and taller of the two. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. But that couldn't be right. If the girl was Arya, the boy was Bran himself, and he had never worn his hair so long. And Arya never beat me playing swords, the way that girl is beating him. She slashed the boy across his thigh, so hard that his leg went out from under him and he fell into the pool and began to splash and shout. "You be quiet, stupid," the girl said, tossing her own branch aside. "It's just water. Do you want Old Nan to hear and run tell Father?" She knelt and pulled her brother from the pool

- Bran III, ADWD

but four books earlier, we see this quote from ned:

Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it

- Arya II, AGOT

so we know that that ned was close enough to lyanna to know that she enjoyed swordplay, close enough to know her desires and to know that rickard would never accept this (for whatever reason).

...but not close enough to be the one she practiced sworldplay with in secret. the picture this paints is telling. lyanna was explicitly banned from something, and chose to pursue it in a secret and harmless way, with someone she trusted.

but ned isn't privy to that information. whether because he wasn't around, or because lyanna thought he would disapprove, or because he just thought it was childish - either way, we see that lyanna is picky about who she trusts, bred out of having to be sneaky in achieving her goals under her strict father's nose. she even identifies old nan as a snitch (et tu brute?). clever kid.

lyanna has other hobbies, too. she loves flowers. she loves riding horses.

"You ride like a northman, milady," Harwin said when he'd drawn them to a halt. "Your aunt was the same. Lady Lyanna. But my father was master of horse, remember."

- Arya III, ASOS

[Brandon] loved to ride. His little sister took after him in that. A pair of centaurs, those two.

- The Turncloak, ADWD

Horses … [Domeric] was mad for horses, Lady Dustin will tell you. Not even Lord Rickard's daughter could outrace him, and that one was half a horse herself.

- Reek III, ADWD

worth mentioning, imo, that even though lyanna was an excellent rider, she couldn't beat domeric. this is paralelled with arya, who is great on horseback, but not faster than harwin the son of winterfell's master of horse. this isn't a case of 'not like other girls' syndrome, of mary sues who are magically the best there ever was. conversely, adversity doesn't scare either of them off - lyanna was clearly competitive, with domeric and likely with brandon before him, and it all added up to her being remembered as a fantastic horserider despite effectively leaving the north at 14.

so lyanna is determined. she's willful, to hear ned say it.

then, of course, we have this

"Robert will never keep to one bed," Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm's End. "I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale." Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart.

Lyanna had only smiled. "Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature."

- Eddard IX, AGOT

this seems fairly clear cut, but let's break down this conversation:

lyanna (told the news by the authoritative father; being approached by ned, the sibling who is best friends with the guy in question; thirteen years old): he will never keep to one bed. he has a bastard already, on a common girl he cannot marry which speaks to his character

ned: it isn't robert's actions that matter, it's his feelings. *crickets on lyanna's feelings*

now lyanna is thirteen. but she already recognizes that this is a losing battle. why? because she can't change robert?

no. because she cannot change the minds of rickard, or of ned.

there is no doubt in my mind that both these men loved her. but do they listen to her? clearly not.

lyanna doesn't bother to fight this fight she cannot win. she just smiles, realizing that rickard/ned are not going to hear her out on this, and gets the last word with "love does not change a man's nature."

this isn't the divide between lyanna and robert - this is the moment of divide between lyanna and ned. they're siblings who love each other, and love is sweet, but none of that changes that ned is on rickard and robert's side. it's a rough moment for a teenage girl. she was right earlier, she must realize - benjen is the brother she can trust.

so lyanna is determined, but she is pragmatic.

the next time we see lyanna, she's kicking ass at harrenhal.

[...]they heard a roar. “That’s my father’s man you’re kicking!” howled the she-wolf…

The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all. The crannogman was bruised and bloodied, so she took him back to her lair to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen.

- Bran II, ASOS

here is where lyanna really shines.

she has a moral code all her own, we already know this from her assessment of robert's child that differed from how catelyn views bastards disconnected from the home.

she dislikes bullies, which is fairly common (jaime hated bullies growing up, for example) but for some reason at this very moment, she also has a tourney sword in hand - why? well, because lyanna stark takes her opportunities when she has them. barred from swordplay? that's fine, dad, but when you're not looking is another story.

she doesn't go rushing in, nor does she ignore the scene. she watches long enough to see if howland can fight them off (he can't), giving her time to identify him as a crannogman - possibly even as a highborn crannogman. and then what does she do? she weighs her options, decides that she can probably beat the bullies, and does so. then she takes care of howland reed, picking him up like she picked benjen out of the water in bran's vision.

[T]here was to be a feast in Harrenhal, to mark the opening of the tourney, and the she-wolf insisted that the lad attend. He was of high birth, with as much right to a place on the bench as any other man.

- Bran II, ASOS

she claims his rights as a highborn lord to attend. he doesn't have clothes, nor does howland insist that he can go, but lyanna makes a reasoned argument that howland has every right to attend and that surely benjen can find him some clothes!

so lyanna is determined, pragmatic, and a problem-solver.

[T]he Knight of the Laughing Tree spoke in a booming voice through his helm, saying “Teach your squires honour, and that shall be ransom enough.” Once the defeated knights chastised their squires sharply, their horses and armour were returned.

- Bran II, ASOS

here, lyanna displays a trait that sets her apart. howland memorizes the face of his bullies. he wants to "revenge" himself on them. but lyanna does not go directly for the bullies, she challenges the lords to whom the bullies squire, and commands them to chastise their squires.

lyanna understands the chivalric system she lives in, and that she will not be listened to (how? her own father and brother don't listen to her!), so she figures out another way to get justice that plays on the very ideas of might & honor that exclude the weak. she is confident in her abilities (being experienced riding at rings), gathers up all the material she needs, and takes a calculated risk.

she manipulates the system, plainly. she plays the players at their own game and wins.

and she does it for a guy she met a few days ago.

lyanna is determined, pragmatic, a problem-solver, and ascribes to a moral code that is all her own, one that rejects societal hypocrisy.

You have a wildness in you, child. 'The wolf blood,' my father used to call it. Lyanna had a touch of it, and my brother Brandon more than a touch.

- Arya II, AGOT

so how do we square this away? lyanna was wolf-blooded. she was wild. she was untameable.

or was she?

any girl/woman with half a personality gets described as "spirited" or "willful" or "stubborn" in asoiaf. it's a polite of saying "hard to control." we see several times that lyanna takes a measured approach to matters. she is brave, yes, but she is also thoughtful and chooses her battles with the information she has. when she is denied something for no reason beyond her gender and status, she finds a way to pursue her interests regardless.

but robert is something lyanna can't avoid. and that had to rankle her, the betrothal she is determined to avoid, but pragmatically cannot due to her family's insistence. the marriage that goes against her moral code (i'm sure lyanna noted that robert gladly volunteered to capture the KOTLT, regardless of what punishment might be given down by a deranged aerys).

[i'm going to skip over her relationship with rhaegar, because there isn't enough/any text to analyze that explicitly deals with their dynamic post-harrenhal. speculation isn't the point of this post. suffice to say she saw in him something she did not in her family or robert.]

then aerys burns her father and brother.

could rhaegar have stopped aerys once he made up his mind? we as readers know the answer is no. grrm says so much himself, that it was aerys who kicked off the war in this interview:

The Mad King was mad. He was paranoid and violent and he was abusing his power... [Robert's Rebellion] was triggered by[...]the execution of Ned’s father and brother, it was the thing that radicalized, as we would have said in the 60s, Ned and it put him in opposition to it. Robert was just rolling for a fight and it might affect that he’d lost his girlfriend.

the absolute power of kings is continuously critiqued in the series.

so how did lyanna react? of course she grieved deeply. even if she knew that she would likely not see her family again for several years at least, for them to die in such a terrible manner is horrifying.

but lyanna has been forged into pragmatism. she looked at the squires beating up howland and saw that the issue was not the bullies, but the corrupt, lazy lords they squired for.

why would she not be able to see that aerys's abuse of power was what had killed her own family? she's realistic and she's a moral actor and she understands the social system around her. whatever her opinion on feudal lordship before, abuse of power has now killed two people she loved. only extrapolation can say how she would react, but given that we see her in similar situations - it is safe to say that the she understands the removal of aerys from power is a necessity, and that a king who is ruled by his urges is unfit.

[lyanna doesn't have the highest opinion of robert, does she? would she think him fit to be a king? doubtful.]

however, she also wants her family to be safe - a family which is now going to include her unborn baby.

[Ned] could hear her still at times. Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black

- Eddard I, AGOT

the promise she solicited from ned is to care for baby jon, presumably.

more importantly, in this final conversation, lyanna is putting all her trust in ned.

this moment is a tragic one, but it is also a cathartic one. whatever has happened, and there is plenty of difficulty between ned and lya at this point, they are putting that to the side and affirming what matters most: their love and loyalty to one another, not in service to house stark, or to any king or cause, but to each other as lyanna and ned.

ned didn't listen before, but he promises her now. lyanna didn't confide in him before, but she does now. yes she's on her deathbed, but this is powerful anyway. it's a healing moment for them both, one lyanna held on for even though by all means she could have trusted the kingsguard to whisk baby jon away earlier and succumbed to the pain.

lyanna doesn't spend her last moments begging for forgiveness or explaining herself. she spends her last moments trying to solve the problem of jon's safety, of her son's life. even at the end, she is determined that he will live.

she dies fearless. she smiles, maybe the same way she smiled in winterfell when ned told her robert would be a good husband and she saw the love in ned's words but not the respect. a bittersweet smile, because jon will survive but she won't see it.

"She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her and the rain to wash her clean."

"I was with her when she died," Ned reminded the king. "She wanted to come home, to rest beside Brandon and Father."

- Eddard I, AGOT

this is our actual introduction to lyanna, when robert and ned initially visit her in the crypts. given everything we know, it's so fitting - robert is displeased with her gravesite. he never got what he wanted (his manic pixie dream girl </3), and even in death he doesn't like her grave.

lyanna was never the person robert projected her to be. in her crypt, she's still defiant against him/what he symbolizes. her determination, her wishes, her home, they all shine through.

But there were others with faces he had never known in life, faces he had seen only in stone. The slim, sad girl who wore a crown of pale blue roses and a white gown spattered with gore could only be Lyanna. Her brother Brandon stood beside her, and their father Lord Rickard just behind.

- Theon V, ACOK

in the end, lyanna's close to her family (even by their side in theon's dreams). she's close to brandon, rickard, ned, old nan, everyone she ever knew growing up, and most importantly: to jon. it's a romantic ending for a minor character, a character grrm clearly cherished when he wrote.

the point of this post is that i want to leave behind the idea of lyanna stark as this harbinger of tragedy. the woman who ruined every man who looked into her eyes (robert, ned, rhaegar) and is now turned to stone. lyanna stark isn't written as a cautionary tale, as a romanticized medusa - instead, her memory lives on in a son who doesn't know her but still loves her, in how the people she knew remember her for what she actually loved, and even in lyanna mormont (a fitting namesake). there's defiance and meaning in that.

i could never say it better, so have hélène cixous's banger to round out my thoughts on lyanna:

You only have to look at the Medusa straight on to see her. And she’s not deadly. She’s beautiful and she’s laughing.

[deannaroxannewrites]

Tropetember Day 7 - Mutual Pining / Requited/Unrequited Love / Angst with a happy ending

My boys

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Rating: Teen and up

TW: Angst (all of the angst), Angst with a happy ending, Witness Protection

AN: Day 7 of @tropetember. Another Hotch story that could be expanded into a small series. Enjoy the angst (and fluff because I CANNOT HELP MYSELF)

You've been looking to spending a quiet day with your boys, until a phone call turns your world upside down.

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.6k

You were in the middle of pottering around the kitchen putting your groceries away when the phone rang.

Glancing at it, you realise it’s Aaron. Why would he be ringing you right now? Jack’s soccer game wouldn’t have been finished for very long and they usually got a treat before coming to visit you.

You answer with a smile, you were looking forward to spending the day with your boys.

“Hi sweetie, what can I do for you?” You ask.

Aaron says your name and his voice shakes. You instantly stop what you’re doing. Something is wrong. Something really bad is happening. You can tell.

“Scratch.” He takes a shuddering breath. “Scratch was at Jack’s game.”

You gasp and panic floods through you.

“Is he ok? Are you both ok? He didn’t get to either of you did he?”

"No, he didn't."

There's a pause and you feel your heart start to calm. At least they're OK, although you can't figure out what's happening. Unfortunately, your relief at them both being unharmed is immediately destroyed.

"Jack and I are being put into witness protection."

You hear the glass you were holding smash as it connects with the marble floor of the kitchen. It's funny, you feel like a spectator in your own body. The only other thing you're aware of is that you feel like you can't breathe.

Aaron calls your name a few times but you're hyper fixated on one thing he says. 'Jack and I.' Not we. Why hadn't he said we?

"Can I not come too?" Your voice is small. Lost. "If this madman is following Jack, he'll know who I am, Aaron."

You hear him exhale.

"I know. I tried to get the Marshals to offer you the choice of coming with us." You imagine he's scrubbing his hand down his face in frustration. "They said that, since Scratch's focus is the team, and I will no longer be around or know what's happening, you will no longer be at risk." He lets out a scoff.

Tears silently trace down your face. Your world was ending but, no matter how much you wanted to beg and scream and demand they stay, this was already a done deal. Jack's safety was the most important thing in the world and you wouldn't dare risk it for your selfish desires.

"OK." You take a moment to breathe and clear your throat. "Can you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"Tell Jack I love him? Give him a big hug and kiss and tell him that I'll see him when this is over?"

That breaks him, and he quietly sobs out your name.

"You're going to be OK. Both of you. And I'll be here waiting." You take a shaky breath. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm putting everything into your name. I don't mind if you move into the apartment or if you rent it out and put everything in storage. Just try to hold onto the keepsakes and Jack's stuff."

"I've got it. Don't worry. It's in good hands."

"The very best." He gives a shaky laugh. "I love you so much. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault Aaron. God, I love you so much."

You both go quiet, knowing you don't have long until the Marshals disconnect his number.

"I can't ask you to wait for me." He tells you. It makes a sob break through your restraint. "That would be selfish of me. Just know that I love you. And, once this is over, we'll see you again."

"I know, it's OK. I love you."

"I…."

The line goes dead and, like the glass spread across the floor, you break.

---------

The weeks following are hazy in your memory. You imagine it's not totally dissimilar to a bereavement. After all, you'd discussed seeing each other again, but you both knew that there was a chance it may not happen. Scratch had been evading law enforcement for months with ease. He was watching Jack and no-one even knew. It didn't bode well.

Time continued to pass. Eventually, from around the 6th month mark, people started offering to set you up with friends/relatives/colleagues. You weren't getting any younger they kept saying. You can't miss out on the rest of your life.

It was something you were well aware of. You were only a couple of years younger than Aaron so you were moving past your prime, particularly if you wanted to have kids of your own. You couldn't do it though. It just felt wrong when Aaron was out there alone somewhere with a new name and identity. How could you move on? Instead, you focussed on work, even getting a promotion for your efforts.

You didn't move into the apartment, you couldn't bring yourself to. You and Aaron had been discussing moving, and potentially purchasing a proper house with a garden Jack play soccer in in the future, mere days before everything happened. It was just another thing that didn't feel right. Instead, you moved the important things out to Dave's basement. He had the space and it would be much safer than a storage locker. It also helped sooth his guilt over the fact that none of the team were supposed to have much contact with you to try and keep you off Scratch's hotlist.

Since you didn't need the income from the apartment, you instead approached a charity who worked with women and families escaping domestic violence. You'd offered them the apartment at a reduced rate for short term lets that rolled month by month, with potential to go up to a year. The plan was to give people time to get back on their feet and regain their independence in a safe and secure environment.

You'd had two small families in so far. Both had moved on after securing jobs with good salaries and new full time accommodation. They were both keeping you updated about how they and their kids were doing, and you were happy that you were able to help them even just a little. It was empty at the moment and you were busy organising some basic maintenance and were going to repaint some of the rooms to freshen it up.

You'd just been on the phone with Derek, who'd offered to do the small repair jobs you needed doing, when someone knocked at the door.

Glancing at the clock and seeing it was nearly 9pm, you paused and texted Derek as a safety precaution. It was probably nothing, but better safe than sorry.

The knock sounded again, a little more urgent this time, and you hustled to the door to open it.

When you realised who was on the other side, your knees gave way.

There in front of you, looking almost exactly the same as when he left, was Aaron with Jack peeking out from behind him.

Realising what was happening, he reached out to steady you and you threw yourself into his arms, sobbing as if your life depended on it.

He held you just tightly, rocking from side to side until you pulled back. You lower yourself into a crouch and hold your arms out to Jack, who collides with you with enough force to knock you on your behind.

You both laugh as you land on the floor, a light, carefree combination of sounds that tinkles around the room as you press kisses all over his face. Aaron bobs down to join the hug before helping you both to your feet and guiding you all to your sofa.

"I'm so glad you're both back" you tell them. Jack is snuggled into your lap and you're snuggled into Aaron. Declarations of love pass easily and frequently between the three of you and it fills you with warmth.

You spend the evening catching up with them. Apparently Scratch had been caught at the end of last week but it had taken this long for word to get through to the Marshals and for them to organise transferring them home.

Jack tells you over dinner (pizza, Jack picked) about his school and all the things he's learnt since the last time he saw you. Aaron tells you about his cover job as a law clerk in the backwater town of Nowhere, Iowa. In return, you tell them about how you got promoted at work and what you've done with the apartment in their absence. Aaron's eyes shine with pride as you explain the cause and you know it's one that's close to his heart.

Before you know it, it's almost midnight and Aaron is suggesting they go back to the hotel that they've been set up in for the next few days. You won't allow that though. They'll be lucky if they're allowed to leave your sight ever again.

You all brush your teeth together in the bathroom while joking around before getting sorted and all clambering into your bed together.

Wrapped in Aaron's arms, with Jack tucked up against your side, you finally feel whole for the first time since that dreaded phone call.

"My boys," you gently sigh. "I love you both".

Aaron presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and you let the sound of their breathing calm you as you fall into the deepest nights sleep you've had in forever.

Even better, they're still there when you wake up.

[calpops]

seven days | c.h.

Your baby is born two months early. You and Calum face the complications and uncertainties with each other and the help of family.

10k words

dates with cal masterlist

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

<< >>

Calum’s world spins in slow motion. He sees you but you’re out of focus, his vision is hazy past tears. He’s numb but somehow he can still make out that your hand is in his, your grip is like iron, the hold you have on each other is unbreakable. He can hear static, white noise tumbles through his senses raised into a panic induced overdrive. He loses you and finds your baby and wonders why there’s no crying. The doctor has her in her arms and she’s saying something, Calum can see that her lips are moving but his mind can’t keep up, her voice is lost to him. Neither of you were prepared for this, the classes and books neglected to ready you for only seven months of pregnancy, ten minutes of labor and the doctor rushing your daughter out of the room. He looks back at you and sees your once outstretched arm fall, your lip quiver, eyes go wild through your weary and worried exhaustion. Your voice finally breaks him.

“Follow them,” you plead and though Calum wants to stay with you there’s someone else in the world who needs him too. Someone else he wants to be with just as much as you.

With every footstep down the sterile hallway he wishes your hand could still be in his. He’s stopped short, a nurse he barely recognizes from his disconnect while at your side stands in front of him.

“They’re bringing her to the NICU,” the nurse says and though her voice and eyes are kind Calum feels fear and frustration rising inside of him, boiling and breaking him as she stands in his way. “You can’t go in yet.”

“What—I’m—she’s my daughter,” he stumbles out, throat on fire and eyes burning just the same.

“They’re getting her in an incubator. She needs oxygen and vital care,” she says and goes on to explain it will take a bit of time. “When she’s ready you’ll be able to go in. You’ll need to scrub up and wash your hands first.”

Calum shakes his head, not quite able to process all of this information on the spot. He lets out a shaky breath, curls his fingers into his palms, feels the coolness of his wedding ring on his skin and it reminds him of you; he lets the thought of you attempt to calm him. His head shake turns to a nod though he’s still not sure he can completely comprehend all that is happening.

“When can I see her?” he finally manages to get out though it’s not without a fight or a broken syllable.

“Follow me,” the nurse offers and without thinking Calum is walking down the hallway again, trailing the nurse to a break in the white wall where a window rests. “You can watch from here.”

The view is startling. Machines and equipment line the NICU, doctors and nurses pass in and out and create fears with every step they take. It takes a moment to find the team that delivered your baby, joined by a few new nurses and another doctor. Just past the crowd he can see the incubator and your daughter being settled within, tubes for oxygen and the like disguising her small face. Her eyes are closed and though she looks peaceful the striking contrast of your sleeping daughter and the dire circumstances are enough to choke Calum. He can’t watch the rest, his eyes skirt to the floor but he stays put. He’s not leaving her, his resolve is shaken but stays intact. He wants you with him, he wants her to be on the other side of the glass, in his arms, welcomed to a world without complications.

Time passes in a blur, his eyes fixed on his shoes and the tile floor below. He’s vaguely aware of other people in the hallway. Doctors, parents, nurses and patients all pass him by without a word. The kind nurse is long gone and Calum finds himself wishing he had asked more questions. The silence is deafening. He wants to have your whispered words of reassurance in his ear. He wants the repeated mantra of “it’s gonna be okay” to be believable. His phone buzzes but he doesn’t reach for it. He knows he should make calls. Tell his parents, inform the guys he left with a million questions and concerns in their minds. He doesn’t have the energy or the will to do so.

His shoulders slump but he straightens himself when a doctor approaches.

“Mr. Hood?” he asks, clipboard in hand and cool eyes sweeping him up and down. Calum nods. “You can go in now. Follow me. We have to get you ready.”

Calum’s heart lurches with the first step he takes to follow the doctor, to be with his daughter. He thinks of you, doesn’t want to imagine the panic and pain that being alone is causing you. He reminds himself Mali is with you, that you told him to follow. He’s led to a solid door and ushered through. There’s a room connected to the NICU; cabinets with scrubs and gloves and sanitizer and a medical sink claim the small space. He realizes all parents must enter through here before getting to their babies. In a blink he’s wearing a gown, and his hands are thoroughly washed. He takes just one second to take a breath, to gather courage, keep you in his thoughts and ready his heart for his daughter.

“We usually encourage skin to skin contact to bond with babies while they’re being treated. You can hold her hand, talk to her, she’ll know your voice,” the doctor explains while they approach the incubator.

There’s a thousand questions swirling through Calum’s mind that he wants to ask the doctor beside him. But his breath catches in his throat at the sight of your daughter. Her eyes are still closed from when he first caught a glimpse of her through the window. The incubator is closed, she’s surrounded by the help she needs but holes provide a place for Calum’s hand to find her. The doctor talks to him, Calum knows he should be listening but the whir of the machinery and the thumping of his pulse inside his ears drown out the words. He keeps his gaze on her, swallows back a sob and feels the ache in his heart grow as he realizes you’re alone in the room down the hall, that she’s right in front of him but they’re separated by plastic and plexiglass.

He wants to say something to her, he can’t find words, more than anything he wants to hold her. He can’t. He sinks down to level with her and slowly reaches through to lightly hold her hand that’s so small it brings tears to his eyes. She doesn’t respond but he feels better having even the smallest form of connection to her. He doesn’t even know when he realized that he was right; your baby is the most beautiful little girl he’s ever seen. Your bet is meaningless, winning and names are lost in the plight of life. The doctor leaves eventually but hospital staff still surrounds the NICU, nurses and doctors ready at a moment’s notice. It’s silent save for the hum of the machines. Only a few other babies are being treated, spaced out to afford families privacy. He doesn’t know how long he stays bent over with his hand lightly on hers before he finally finds words.

“We love you,” he tells her, knowing if you were with them you’d say it too.

It might have been minutes but is more likely hours by the time a nurse pulls Calum from her side. The mention of you finally rousing him from his state. He doesn’t want to leave but he wants you. He wars over it for a moment but nods, gives her hand another touch, tells her that you both love her and finds himself wandering the hallway back to you. You’re stricken when he enters the room. Mali is trying to be a calming presence, to keep you in bed, but it seems a losing fight.

“How is she?” you ask, breathless, hopeless and forlorn.

Calum swallows down a lump in his throat, bites back tears and tries to stay strong for you and for her. A rush of the doctor’s words come back to him. What scattered remnants of pieces he barely heard charge through.

“She’s beautiful,” Calum says first, sits down in the chair at your side and takes your hand as softly as he had taken hers. “The doctor said the first twenty four hours are the most vital. They’ll know more at forty eight and even more at seventy two.”

“I want to see her,” you say and Calum hears the edge of hysteria in your tone.

“You need to rest,” Mali tries but falls short when you and Calum both shake your heads.

“I didn’t even get to hold her,” you cry and it’s enough to bring Calum to you, his arms gently around your shoulders. You can’t hold her, he can’t hold her, but you can hold each other and hope. “I want to see her,” you repeat and the words hit Calum’s skin and wrench his heart.

“We’ll ask the doctor if you can,” he promises, not knowing how physically affected you are from labor, not knowing if getting up and going would be okay or not.

“I’ll go get her,” Mali says and excuses herself from the room to track down the doctor and to give you two a private moment.

You’re both quiet for a few seconds, content to hold each other together in the silence. Calum feels your grip on him tighten as you shift in the hospital bed and eventually pull away so he can see your face. He runs his thumbs over your cheeks to wipe away your tears.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, eyes wide and concerned. “I wish I could’ve been there with you. I don’t know how hard that must have been.”

Calum shakes his head as if he’s trying to shake away your worries. You feeling guilty for not being there with and for him was the same war he had about leaving you behind.

“‘I’m”—he says and sucks in a deep breath—“I’m okay. I’ll be okay. She’s gonna be okay,” he finishes and finds a new mantra though it’s hard to believe and each sentence sounds more like a question than the last.

You nod, a small shudder shaking your shoulders and racking your body. Calum reaches for you again, let’s his hands settle on your shoulders to give you strength and comfort.

“I know she will. She’ll be okay, she has to be, she’s half you and you’re the strongest person I know,” you rationalize, eyes lost to the wall in front of you. You look back at Calum and he sees the stony wall you’ve put up start to crack as you gaze at him. “But it’s okay to break sometimes,” you finish and Calum knows you’re saying it to him, reminding him that he can break into your arms and have you there to help him put back the pieces.

For the first time since your daughter was born Calum allows himself to crumble. The tears he’d been fighting back slide down his cheeks and his shoulders slump with the weight of the world. He’s brought back to you by your gentle pull and finds reassurance in the love you show him. Mali comes back in with the doctor and Calum tries to collect himself, wipes tears from his face and clears his throat.

“I hear you’re asking about your daughter,” the doctor says as she steps into the room and takes a sweeping glance at you, Calum and Mali. “Parents are allowed in at all times. Visiting hours for others are seven in the morning to seven at night. Only two at a time.”

“Can I go see her?” you ask, a fragment of hope clinging to your words and getting lost in your eyes at the mention of parents being allowed in whenever.

“In the morning,” the doctor replies and Calum swallows down a lump in his throat, knowing that’s not the answer you wanted. “Your labor was quick but very intense. Your body needs to rest, the drugs need to wear off, you wouldn’t make it down the hallway in your condition.”

Calum sees the refusal cross your face, the staunch disbelief that you can’t see your daughter almost enough to crack anyone’s resolve. The doctor keeps explaining to you but it falls on deaf ears and interjections. You ask if this way would be possible, if that way would, but nothing seems to be possible to the doctor who means to keep you in bed until morning.

“What if she doesn’t have a morning?” you finally ask and suck in a breath as if the words themselves strike physical pain through you. Calum’s nearly certain they did, just the thought is enough to make his chest feel like it’s caving in.

“She’s stable and comfortable. If anything was to happen we would get you in there. For now, please try to get some rest.”

The doctor gets paged and makes her escape. Calum clutches you, holds you and makes whispered promises he’s not sure can be kept.

“I don’t want her alone,” you whimper and Calum follows your gaze out the door.

“I’ll go—do you want me to stay with you? Where do you want me?” he asks, stumbling over his words, unsure where to go or what to do.

You nod. “Go be with her. Please. Make sure she’s okay,” you instruct and Calum can hear how much it pains you to let him go to her without you. He holds your hand, kisses your forehead.

“I’ll come back to check on you in a while,” he promises. “And I’ll take so many pictures of her. Sweetheart, she’s beautiful,” he adds, realizing his first time in the NICU was so filled with shock that not one photo was taken and the only time you’ve seen her was when she was being taken away.

“Thank you,” you whisper, eyes glossy. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he answers without hesitation but takes an extra second to gaze at you before heading out the door.

He’s back with your daughter before he even realizes it. Her small hand is warm inside the incubator, her eyes are still shut and past the tubes that breathe life into her she almost looks peaceful. He takes as many photos as he can without disturbing her. He settles into the hard plastic chair beside her and tilts his head back until it gently thumps against the wall. His hands find his face and rub at his jaw. He hadn’t realized before but it’s been clenched and holding tension for hours. Time passes as he sits at her side, talks to her, sings and hums when she so much as stirs slightly. He’s able to lull her and he takes those moments as victory and ones to keep with him forever. Once more he wishes you were with them, knowing you would be able to do the same for her with the sound of your voice, the gentle touch of your hand. When it nears midnight and she hasn’t stirred in a while and a nurse has come in to check on her, Calum convinces himself it’s time to go check on you.

He knows he could call or text but he misses you. He’s faced with a conundrum as he gets one foot out the door of the NICU. Now he misses her. But he doesn’t have time to do much of either as the kind nurse he recognizes from earlier stops him once more. This time she has a clipboard with papers and pen in her hand.

“Forms for her birth certificate,” she informs.

Calum gapes at the papers. Even the easiest of questions and information seems impossible. You both still don’t even know her name yet.

“You can take your time on them. I’ll be around to help if you have questions,” the nurse says before excusing herself to rush off to help another patient.

Calum’s left with the clipboard in hand, aches in his heart and questions in his mind. He heads back for your room to find you awake and Mali gone. You smile to greet him but Calum can see how flat the gesture is and he can’t blame you.

“Where’s Mali?”

“Getting a coffee. I can’t sleep and she wanted to stay up with me,” you explain and Calum settles himself on the edge of your bed. He takes your hand and places the clipboard on his lap. “What’s that?”

“Forms for her birth certificate,” he says and sighs. “I can’t even fill in her name.”

You squeeze his hand in understanding. “Do what you can,” you reply and inch closer to take a peek at the papers. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you as you each get lost in your own thoughts. “I know you get to name her…”

Calum shakes his head. All bets off. “We’ll decide on something together. I love all the ones on your list,” he tells you and finally gets a genuine smile from you, eyes alight and all.

“I want to see her before we choose, I feel like I don’t even know her.”

Calum trembles at your words and the honesty in them. You carried her for seven months and had about seven seconds to see her before she was carried off. He leans closer to you, gives you many small kisses from your cheek to forehead as worries and fears tumble inside him, each one coming to life and bringing life to others. He drowns them out, for you and for her. He’s already crumbled once. He wants to be resilient. Mali comes back with coffee in hand and tired eyes but such a sheer will to stay Calum can’t even work up the nerve to even suggest she go home and get some sleep. And in all honesty he’s glad she’s here and can be there with you when he can’t.

“I called mum and dad, I hope you don’t mind,” Mali says when she takes a seat on the opposite side of you, sliding into the chair in a tired yet graceful way.

Calum shakes his head. He doesn’t mind at all. He wanted to do it but didn’t have the heart or the words or the right mind to even dial the phone.

“They’re flying out as soon as they can,” Mali further informs, then sips at her coffee. “We’re all gonna be here for you. Both of you. All of you.”

“Thank you,” Calum gets out past a choked up throat and stands to stride to his sister and give her a long overdue hug. She affords him comfort and when she realizes how tired his eyes are she gives him her coffee and says she’ll get another.

Mali leaves again and Calum spends the next few minutes drinking in the caffeine and soaking up some time with you. He wants to get back to your daughter but the war of you being completely alone confronts him once more. He decides to wait until Mali gets back to head back to the NICU. When she does stride back through the door he gives you a kiss, tells you he loves you and makes a promise to stay with her until morning; until you can be with her too.

He spends the night in the uncomfortable hospital chair, hand inside the incubator, finger lightly stroking her tiny hand in soothing rhythms. He talks to her when the moon is out, he shows her pictures of you and doesn’t let it bother him when her eyes don’t stay open for long. He comes to terms with the fact that she’s resting and when she’s resting she’s getting stronger each and every second. Through the night he shifts in the chair but never leaves it. There’s a kink in his neck and his muscles ache by the time morning comes but those pains are minimal in comparison. He rubs at his tired eyes after waking from a miraculous little doze. He straightens and finds her immediately.

“Good morning,” he sings quietly as he gets level with her. Her eyes are barely open. “You get to see your mommy today.”

He knows it’s not likely, probably impossible, but he swears she smiles when he tells her that. His phone buzzes in his pocket. He has no intention of answering it—he’s surprised it still has enough charge to buzz—but he checks who’s calling. Ashton lights up the screen. Calum sends him to voicemail and jumps when motion in his peripheral startles him. Ashton is standing outside the NICU window, looking in at Calum with his phone pressed to his ear. He frowns when he hears the voicemail greeting. Calum gathers up the courage to leave his daughter. He gives her a small goodbye squeeze on her hand, tells her he loves her and exits the NICU, the routine of leaving the used gown behind already set in stone.

“How is she?” Ashton asks, giving no time or thought to explaining how he knew where to go or why he holds a duffel bag in his grip.

Calum wracks his brain, trying to find the last update from a nurse or doctor but comes up short after his long night. He sighs and his shoulders slump.

“She made it through the night,” he says and hears the desperate intone of needing hope in his voice. “What are you doing here? How’d you know?”

“Mali texted, Luke has Duke,” Ashton explained and lifted a worry from Calum. He’d nearly forgotten Duke in the fray of it all. Ashton hoisted the duffel bag up. “I brought you both clothes, phone chargers, and I even have a present for her,” he continues and rummages around in a small gift bag until he pulls out a plush koala bear.

“She’s in a closed incubator,” Calum says though he knows he should be saying thank you instead. He can’t stop the words once they start. “She can’t have anything in there.”

Ashton nods, knowing the slight bite in Calum’s tone is not frustration at the gesture, just the circumstances. “It can go in her nursery.”

“We don’t even have it set up yet.”

Calum knows he’s starting to crack again but he doesn’t know how to stop himself. If it were anyone else he might have had a fighting chance of keeping himself together but Ashton’s been there for unspeakable highs and lows. He can’t fight himself into submission. He can’t keep himself together without a little help from his best friend. That’s exactly what he gets, a comforting hand on his back as the bags hit the floor and a hug to remind him that it’s not just you and him against the world. It takes a few minutes for Calum to pull himself together, to offer an apology for his tone that Ashton shrugs off in understanding and head for your room, the sudden remembrance that you get to finally see your daughter carrying his steps.

He finds you and Mali in the same spots as last night. He can tell you didn’t sleep. Your eyes are bloodshot and heavy but the smallest of smiles captures your lips when you see him.

“You ready?” Calums asks and you nod, needing no other prompting to understand. “Let’s get you dressed then we can go,” he adds on and searches through the duffel bag for some clothes as Ashton and Mali head to the hallway.

“How was last night?” you ask him as you pull a hoodie on.

“Long,” Calum answers and takes a breath. “But she made it through with no problems. I talked about you, showed her pictures, I think she’s excited.”

You laugh at Calum’s recount of the night and his projection of her possible excitement. It’s the first time he’s heard you laugh in nearly twenty four hours. It’s not as hearty and joyous as usual but it’s a start to feeling normal. You both hold onto that feeling as you exit the room and head to get ready for the NICU.

Calum doesn’t know what to expect when you enter and see her for the first time since she was taken away. He figures you might tear up, that you might clutch him or go straight for her. He doesn’t expect you to freeze in your tracks halfway to where she sleeps. He doesn’t know what to do when you wrap your arms around yourself and tremble where you stand.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, come on,” he tries with a soothing voice. He’s a step ahead of you and you continue to stand still. He backtracks to you, puts a reassuring hand on your back. “What’s going on?”

He focuses on the subtleties of your face and is drawn to your eyes. He sees the way they shine and knows that you’ll soon be biting your lip and scrunching your nose as you do your best to hold back your emotions.

“All these machines…” you trail off with eyes roaming the NICU and the sight of dozens of incubators and the like. Calum knows how overwhelming it is but he’s had time to adjust and get used to the hum and flow of the world your daughter lives in.

“They keep the babies safe and comfortable,” he says, knowing that’s what will get through to you. “I’ll show you, she’s nice and cozy, getting stronger every second.”

You nod and take very small steps with Calum at your side. He doesn’t rush you or push you along. He goes at your pace, his eyes skirting from you to your daughter. He knows you can see her from your vantage point. Her eyes are closed as sleep claims her once more. Calum is used to the tubes that give her oxygen and help sustain her life. It startles you when you first approach and Calum witnesses the tears that finally slide down your cheeks. You’re timid at the edge of the incubator, hands curled into fists and steadfast at your sides. He hears your breath shaking and reaches for your hand.

“You can touch her. Hold her hand. She likes that,” Calum informs, knowing his touch and voice had soothed her through the night whenever she stirred. “Like this,” he says and reaches his free hand toward her, lightly stroking the soft skin on the back of her hand. Her eyes open but she stays calm and content.

You go slowly, as if afraid to startle her or scare yourself. Calum retracts his hand from her but keeps his other in yours for support and comfort. It takes one touch for your fears and stone wall to come crumbling down. Your eyes soften as more tears make stride and a sob wracks your body.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you manage to get out through a cracked voice and Calum smiles at the choice of term of endearment. You’ve always been his sweetheart, now you have one of your own. You look up at your husband and Calum meets your eyes. “She looks just like you.”

Calum shakes his head. “She’s you too, look,” Calum says.

You giggle through another cry but Calum knows the tears and sobs are all born of something good. “She’s got your eyes and purses her lips just like you.”

Calum smiles at that. “But that nose and those cheeks are all you.”

“You think so?” you ask, turning away from her to look at Calum with hope in your eyes. He nods. You turn back to look at her and keep up the small rhythm you have of stroking her hand. “Yeah,” you agree upon further inspection with such adoration in your tone it makes Calum laugh.

For as hesitant as you were to enter the NICU it quickly becomes apparent that nothing in the world will tear you from her side. You take up residence in the chair Calum spent the night in, never once letting your hand leave her, keep your voice soothing as you talk to her. Calum finds his way to the other side, content to hold her other hand and listen to the sweet words you whisper to her.

“I love you so much,” you repeat, having found a new mantra. “I can’t wait to bring you home. You’ll get to meet your auntie Mali, grandma and grandpa, all your uncles. Your doggie, Duke. We’re all waiting for you, whenever you’re ready.”

“Some are less patient than others,” Calum says around a laugh as he spies two people on the other side of the window. You make a confused noise until Calum motions over to the window and you both take in the sight of Ashton and Mali waving behind the glass with glossy eyes and smiles to accompany them.

“They’re really special, huh?” you ask and smile, appreciative for all of the effort they’ve put in. You both know you wouldn’t be able to get through this without family by your side.

“The best,” Calum agrees with fond eyes.

You fall into silence, content to stay by her side and do nothing but gaze at her and each other adoringly. Calum doesn’t expect to look up and find you in tears again but he does and it nearly rips his breath away before he detects that though you’re crying it’s a good kind of cry this time.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” he asks.

“This is just—it’s all I’ve wanted,” you manage to get out with your gaze roaming from her to Calum and then to Ashton and Mali still watching from the window. “It’s our family.”

Calum smiles at the sentiment and the honesty in your voice and knows the gesture reaches his eyes and hopes you can feel it in your heart the way he does. He knows your rocky relationship with your parents and that you haven’t felt like family in a long time. They have still yet to meet Calum after bailing on a dinner and the wedding. He’s not sure if you’ve called them about the birth or if they even bothered to answer but he’s happy to see you content with the family that chose you.

You sniffle and meet eyes with Calum. “I have an idea for her name,” you announce and Calum’s heart skips a beat. He’s ready to start calling her by her name, to fill out the forms in his hoodie pocket, but then he laughs as he realizes he might more often than not call her a term of endearment, just like he does with you.

“Anything you want,” Calum promises, knowing that it will be perfect because it came from you and your heart.

***

Another day slips by and Calum finds himself alone with your daughter once more. You’ve been brought back to your hospital room to talk with your doctor and see where you’re at and when you’ll be ready to be discharged. Calum asks you to get some rest while you’re in there. You make no promises but heed his words. You both have thoughts of her name in your heads, still undecided, wanting more time with her to be absolutely sure but feeling that it could be right. Calum’s hanging on by a thin and tattered thread. He’s exhausted and nodding off in the chair when Ashton rouses him with a phone call and coaxes him out into the hall, but not before he spends the time to tell her that he loves her. He meets his best friend in the hall, a yawn falling from him, arms wide as they stretch out the aches and tightness from his prolonged position.

Calum rubs at his eyes. “Why’d you drag me out here?”

“I think you should go home for a while,” Ashton says, getting straight to the point. When Calum immediately refuses with a shake of his head Ashton sighs and continues, “just a little while. You’re running on empty.”

“No. No, I don’t want to leave her. I can’t leave them,” Calum refuses, head still shaking and eyes darting to the window.

“Go home. Take a shower. Eat something. Take half an hour to sleep. They need you to be rested,” Ashton says and Calum can almost hear the words he didn’t say. They need you to be strong.

It’s the implication and words unsaid that even marginally make Calum consider the proposition. He runs a hand through his hair as tangles of thoughts snarl through his mind. He lets out an accidentally long held breath and turns the shake of his head into a nod as his shoulders relax. He decides he will, but only after he’s sure you’re okay and can be in with her. He tells Ashton as much.

“Good, I’m on shift right now so I can be in there with them when you’re gone if you guys want,” Ashton informs. Mali had finally gone home to get some rest for herself and Ashton slid seamlessly into her role at your sides to fill in the gaps when you have to be separated.

“I’m sure we’d all love that,” Calum assures, utterly grateful for his family’s presence.

Ashton does as promised. Calum watches as the two of you enter the NICU, sticks by the window until he sees Ashton take her hand for the first time and glow with such love and adoration it makes Calum certain she’s okay in his hands. And yours, though he’s never had a doubt about that. He heads home after waving and blowing a kiss—and laughing when Ashton pretends to snag it from you and keep it for himself. He calls for a car, knowing he’s well past exhausted and being behind the wheel would be dangerous. The car stops at the curb of your home and Calum stops short when he steps out. Two cars sit in the driveway where your cars are usually parked.

He enters the house and is met with disgruntled noises coming from down the hall. He makes way to the back room and finds Luke and Michael in a mess of boxes and half put together nursery furniture. He laughs as he stands in the doorway and it catches his friends attention, they look up at him, wide eyed and startled.

Michael is the first to stand as he abandons a screwdriver on the floor among the mess of cardboard, bubble wrap, and probably unread instructions. “How is she? How are you? What are you doing here?”

“She’s getting better everyday,” Calum answers and doesn’t even question the knowledge they have of her and the troubles she’s been facing. He knows Ashton must have filled them in. “Ashton forced me home to get some rest. But the better question is what are you two doing here?”

Luke blows out an irritated breath. “Trying to build her nursery. We figured Mali and Ash wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon so we might as well be helpful in the meantime.”

“Do they know when she can come home?” Michael asks and tucks his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping the mess of a nursery. He clears his throat.

“Not yet. Hopefully soon,” Calum answers with an arched eyebrow, also taking in the room.

Luke stands. “Don’t worry. We set up a bassinet by your bed. We read it’s good for newborns to sleep near their parents. Just in case,” Luke informs. “She’ll have somewhere to come home to and rest. Now it’s your turn,” he finishes and waves a hand as if to dismiss Calum from their presence.

“Alright, I’ll take the hint. Just… try not to break anything,” Calum says and excuses himself to head across the hall to his own room. He spots the bassinet immediately and gravitates towards it without thinking. He has the stuffed koala Ashton got for her in his hoodie pocket. He pulls it out and places it inside, optimistic that she’ll be able to come home to it soon.

Calum doesn’t linger at home too long. He showers, eats and struggles to sleep for a while. Luke and Michael make minimal progress in their efforts to put together the nursery. Before heading out again Calum stops by to thank them.

“We couldn’t do this without you guys,” Calum expresses his thanks and means every word of it.

“That’s what we’re here for. It’s what families do,” Luke reassures.

“You can thank us by showing us some pictures of her,” Michael states and tilts his head. “The only ones we’ve gotten are blurry and through a window from Ash and Mali.”

Calum is more than happy to comply, he’s taken dozens, likely hundreds, since the first one he snapped for you. With two of his best friends by his side he swipes through endless photos. Most of just her, nearly identical, some with you and her, some of him and her and a few taken by a nice nurse of the two of you with her. He’s not looking at Luke and Michael—much too busy staring at the screen, wanting to be back with her and you to look at them—but he can feel the smiles in their voices.

“She’s the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen,” Luke coos.

Michael makes a comment that she’s lucky she favors you over Calum and all three laugh. It’s one of few genuine laughs Calum has had over the past few days and even though it’s at his own expense he doesn’t mind. It feels normal. Michael and Luke aren’t treating him like glass and he feels less likely to shatter because of it.

“I gotta get back to her,” Calum concludes and locks his phone after the last photo is shown.

“Send us new photos when you get there,” Luke insists and lets Calum part with them after a hug for each.

Calum leaves the half finished nursery and hears his friends go back to squabbling.

“Where the hell did the crib go?” Michael’s voice asks as Calum heads for the door.

“I think it’s under the rocker,” Luke says. “Which is under that styrofoam.”

Calum leaves with a grin and gets back to you and her as soon as he can. He has to switch places with Ashton to get back into the NICU. He immediately greets you and her and though he’s sure at this point you both know he tells you he loves you.

“Will you sleep tonight?” Calum asks, knowing it will likely be your last night in the hospital, your visit from the doctor informing you that you could be discharged in the morning.

“No,” you respond.

“Will you at least try?” he questions with pleading eyes. He doesn’t want you to spend a night in a chair after all your body has been through though he knows you will without question. “You need rest,” he reminds. “I did. Now it’s your turn.”

You sigh and Calum can hear how tired you are just from that. You mull it over for a minute and finally nod. “I’ll try. Stay with her?”

“Always,” Calum promises and meets you around the incubator to give you a hug before separating for the night.

It’s another long and restless night for Calum but he finds small joys where he can. He’s happy to see her content and resting easily. He revels in holding her hand and talking to her. The doctor said she would know his voice and as time passes he starts to believe it. He can’t help but think back on all the times had talked to her before he was born. He found comfort in holding your bump and telling you both about his day or humming and singing familiar and beloved tunes. Those days aren’t so far gone and Calum feels a tug in his chest as he realizes how quickly they left. Seven months was too short. But as he gazes down at her he can’t help but be happy to have met her early. He laughs when the thought of her just wanting to meet you as soon as possible enters his mind and knows he’ll have to tell you that, knows it will make you smile. The night goes by without incident and it instills more and more hope into Calum’s heart that she could be going home any day now. He gets a text from you early in the morning when the sun is still making it’s ascent into the sky. 

He finds himself in your hospital room with a view of pink clouds on the horizon and the golden sun greeting you as the doctor says you’re okay enough to be discharged. You both listen to the instructions and advice the doctor gives you and Calum can see the relief and happiness on your face as you settle into the realization that you can be at your daughters side at any and all times. The doctor tells you to rest and take it easy but Calum knows nothing will be restful or easy until she’s home and you both know she’s okay. Your minds and hearts won’t have peace until she can rest in your arms. Calum helps you get ready to leave your own hospital room and head back to the NICU. Over the next couple of days you and Calum find an exhausting rhythm of being at her side. It takes a lot of convincing from Ashton and Mali to let them be there for her while you take just a small amount of time for yourselves. Though it’s hard and goes against all of your instincts to be there with her at every single minute you relent after nearly thirty six hours without real sleep.

The first time you and Calum leave and Ashton and Mali go in together you linger by the window and watch as they take up positions by her sides. Calum feels warm and okay as he watches, he even manages a smile when Ashton and Mali light up when they hold her hands. The first time eases the transition to being able to take small moments away, long enough to eat and stretch your legs. But you never stay away for too long and even when they’re in with her you always find your way to passing the window and checking in on her and them. Nights are a different story. There is nothing that will make either of you leave her side. Days go on with uncertainty and worries but having Ashton and Mali around helps take some of the pressures and anxieties off of your shoulders.

Night settles upon you both with weary exhaustion clinging to your minds, bodies and hearts. Your daughter has been doing well but there’s still no word of when she can go home. It leaves you reaching for fragmented pieces of hope. Curling your fingers around broken shards of optimism and the fabric of each other’s shirts, holding onto all that is dear. Calum tries convincing you to go home for a night but you staunchly refuse, you tell him that you’re okay though your eyes betray how tired and broken you really are. He doesn’t push the matter, just holds you close in the uncomfortable hospital chair and keeps his hand on hers and yours and whispers reassurances all three of you need.

“I don’t even care if we go home soon or not. I just want to hold her,” you whisper and cut through Calum’s attempts at soothing you. “It’s been what? Four days? Five?” you ask and furrow your brows, the concept of time completely lost.

“Six,” Calum answers and is only aware of it from the watch on his wrist. It feels like a lifetime and he realizes that for her it is. He nearly gets choked up but clears his throat and blinks his eyes rapidly trying to keep himself together. He feels you shake your head against his chest as if you can’t believe it.

“She’s so tiny she could probably fit in one hand,” you say and let out a forlorn sigh. “I don’t know if we have clothes small enough for her.”

“We can send Mali out for that, I’m sure she’ll have a field day. We might have to build another closet for her,” Calum says and a small laugh follows, you giggle slightly and it’s more than Calum has let himself expect in a long while.

You lapse into silence, too tired to keep talking but too aware and afraid to fall asleep just yet. Calum’s learned to blur out the noise of the machines and just focus on your steady breathing. It comforts him. Just as he knows the beat of his heart is comforting you with your head pressed to his chest. His lap is numb but he wants you as close as possible.

“Have you thought more about her name?”

“I like what you mentioned,” Calum answers, a tilt of a smile forming for you and the thought of her possible name on his face. “Let’s sleep on it one more night,” he says and hopes that you actually will be able to sleep.

He finds himself nodding off, neck crooked and head falling against the wall behind him. But slumber is quickly taken from him when he feels himself being shaken and hears your breathy whisper.

“Something’s wrong,” you say and he immediately perks up, heart lurching and breath catching at the two words. “Look.”

You point out the window of the NICU where a group of doctors have convened with sullen looks on their faces. There’s a moment where everything is palpable and tense. Calum’s throat tightens and his heart rate spikes with anxiety. He can hear machines beeping but it’s not uncommon. The doctors break their group and start to move.

“Please don’t come in here,” he hears you say but he’s too fixed on watching the doctors disappear from the window and waiting for the door to burst open. Waiting for a doctor to take his daughter away again. “No, no, no.”

Calum’s hand finds hers and it feels just the same as always, warm and soft and perfect. His heart drops. Nothing happens, the door doesn’t open and the beeping stops. He gives it another moment and clutches at his chest with his free hand. He lets out a breath that’s nearly painful. He doesn’t even notice that in the heat of the moment you left him and stood, but now he refocuses, where once there was white edging into his vision as panic picked up he blinks it away and notices your hands are shaking. When you turn back to look at him he sees tears in your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he says and reaches a hand out to bring you back to him. “It’s okay. She’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and settle back against him, and he can feel the tears on your face as you find a home against the crook of his neck. “I was scared.”

“I know, it’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have woken you. I shouldn’t have”—you begin but Calum strokes your hair and stops the words from coming out.

“That’s what I’m here for. I would’ve done the same,” he promises and assures. “She’s okay, we’re okay,” he continues when your small sobs and shakes don’t stop. He knows that you’re panic stricken and need to let the fear out. He holds you while you do, keeps his gaze flickering from you to her and lets the hum of the machines settle back in. He runs his hand up and down your back and hopes the rhythmic motion will help to calm you. He’s nearly certain sleep won’t be had any more for the night, he’s been running on coffee, anxiety, naps and adrenaline for days now. Once you’re calmed, or at least calmer, you pull away from Calum and he watches as you move back to her, settle so you can hold her hand and whisper to her. Her eyes are open and she’s calm. Calum notes and realizes how quiet she is, has been since she was first born. Even her cries are small and timid. He listens to you tell her that you both love her, that you can’t wait to bring her home and promise to always be there for her. Once the panic flees you both settle back in for the night but stay awake with closed eyes and hands on hers.

Morning comes in a slow creeping way. Doctors and nurses enter the NICU, you both watch silently as they make sure your daughter is doing well. It’s a silent and solemn affair to watch someone else be able to hold your baby—even if it’s just for a routine check in to make sure she’s making the progress she needs. Calum sees your arms flinching, watches as they calm when she’s back in the incubator and quiet. He knows it’s killing you to not hold her, cradle her in your arms and keep her safe from the world. It’s killing him too. Though you’re both somber and exhausted from the previous night, Calum finds that the morning is easier, he’s a little more light and certain. He won’t call it a good feeling as he doesn’t want to jinx it, but as he stares down at her and her eyes flutter open to meet his gaze he feels more calm and collected than he has in a week. His phone buzzes and though he doesn’t want to peel his gaze away from her he looks down and finds a message from Ashton.

“Ash says we should go get breakfast, he and Mali will come in for her,” Calum informs you and for the first time you don’t argue in favor of staying. Last night was too much, twenty minutes to recollect yourselves sounds good, and you’ve both come to trust Ashton and Mali to be alone with her.

“Alright, just get something quick from the cafeteria,” you agree and give your daughter one last touch and affirmation of love. You’ve both made it a habit to have your parting words to her be “I love you”.

Breakfast passes in a blur, remnants of blueberry muffins get swept into the trash and soon enough you’re both on your way back up to her. You’re stopped short in the hallway, a doctor calling out to you.

“Hoods?”

You both turn and a nervous feeling flutters through Calum’s chest. He holds his breath for a moment as he takes in the sight of the doctor. He exhales when the doctor seems in no rush and holds no note of concern. Calum supposes it’s a routine check in to tell about her progress and what the next steps are. Calum’s about ready to ask if you might be able to hold her soon, knowing how far she’s come and how much better she’s doing but the words get trapped as the doctor starts talking.

“She’s put on some weight. Her vitals are good. We’ll be transferring her to an open incubator for the day and if all goes well she should be able to go home by tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“What?” you ask, voice small in Calum’s ears, tinny and distant as you both process the news.

The doctor runs through it again, tells you slowly and answers questions that pop up during the explanation. Once it all makes sense, once it sinks in and the reality that her and home is coming sooner than either of you could have hoped for you’re both struck with a whirlwind of emotions. You freeze and for the second time the life of your daughter brings Calum to his knees. He doesn’t realize that he’s sobbing until you find him on the floor and your gentle hands and voice start to soothe him. Your fingers run through his hair and you repeat a new mantra that’s carved in stone and faith.

“She’s okay. We can go home.”

Your voice is a whisper and the NICU door opening and closing and footsteps all scream around you both. Calum clutches you and tries to catch his breath.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Ashton’s voice cuts through and brings you both to your feet. Calum doesn’t let go of you, face buried against your shoulder, but he finds some breath and wrestles with words and comes up empty.

“We get to take her home,” you explain and Calum suddenly hears Mali too, excited gasps and squeals sounding all around. Calum doesn’t let go of you but he feels his sister and best friend join the hug and appreciates their presence more than any choked up words could explain.

“Right now? I’ll go get the car,” Ashton asks and is reeling and ready to go but is stopped short.

“Tonight or in the morning,” you explain and Calum is grateful you’re strong enough to find words when he can’t. He continues holding you when Mali and Ashton break away, spilling their excitement out in bursts followed by tears.

He feels your hands in his hair again and the gentle sway of your body rocking him as he tries to ground himself into the reality that she really is okay. That nights filled with worries and days packed with exhaustion and waiting and waiting and waiting are going to be over. He breathes a little easier and finally detaches himself from you. You wipe his tears and he wipes yours and small laughs formed from disbelief and exhaustion spill past your lips.

“We have to finish her forms,” you remind and Calum doesn’t hesitate to dig into his jacket pocket where the papers for her birth certificate have been on standby. All that’s left to fill in is her name. “Should we go with…?” you ask and trail off as you peek at Mali and Ashton who are waiting with great suspense. Calum nods.

You fumble with the paper and pen and write her name out against the wall. You stay silent as you turn back to the group. You can sense Mali and Ashton are trying to be patient but the anticipation grows and keeps them on edge. All you do is silently hand them the paper so they can read for themselves.

“Mila Ashe Hood,” Mali reads in a breathy whisper coated with surprise. “She’s named after us?”

“After her godparents,” Calum says, finally finding some words but getting the wind knocked out of him once more as another group hug ensues. “Thank you guys, for everything, we couldn’t have made it without you.”

“That’s what family is for,” Ashton says without hesitation. “Now get in there and celebrate with her.”

***

“Do you want to hold her first?” you ask and look up at Calum with wide eyes. He meets your gaze, remembers your outstretched arm falling as they took her away, your pained and whispered words of just wanting to hold her, the way you flinched with fear at the sight of doctors outside the window. He wants to hold her but he wants you to have the moment you’ve been missing for seven days.

“It’s all you, sweetheart, you can go first,” he says and is content to watch with adoration and love as you reach into the open incubator she will be leaving for good momentarily to take her into your arms for the first time.

“Hi love bug,” you whisper as she settles in your hold; eyes open, quiet and content. “She’s so tiny and beautiful and perfect,” you say and softly rub her back. Calum sees tears in your eyes and for one of the first times in a week he knows they’re made of happiness. “Are you ready to go home?”

Mila doesn’t so much as squirm and you both take her contentment as a resounding yes. Calum lets you hold her for a few minutes more, takes several photos to capture the moment forever, knowing neither of you will ever want to forget. Mila’s eyes find Calum and his heart flutters.

“That’s daddy,” you tell her in a coo. “Do you want to go see daddy?”

The slow motion of Calum’s world stops as his entire universe ends up cradled in his arms. Mila weighs barely five pounds and Calum surmises your guess of her fitting in one hand would be right. But he holds her with all of the soft strength and love he has and wonders if he’ll ever be ready to let go.

“Ashton’s bringing the car around,” you inform. “Her car seat…”

“Luke dropped by and installed it,” Calum responds and laughs when you give him an uncertain look. “I’ll make sure it’s secure.” He would never let anything bad happen to his baby girl.

The transition from the hospital to the car goes fast in comparison to the agonizing wait of seven days. You both sit in the back with her, holding her hands, talking to her and enjoying the feeling of freedom from the incubator and anxiety. Mila is back in your arms and seeing her home for the first time in what seems like no time at all. The car ride flew by. Calum heads down the hall and takes a peek at the nursery.

“Sweetheart, come look,” he calls down the hall and pushes the door fully open when you and Mila reach him.

The sight of the finished nursery is breathtaking. You and Calum show Mila around her room; from the white crib and the pictures of woodland creatures above, to the rocker in the corner and the endless clothes that line her drawers.

“This is your room,” you coo, and shift your weight from one foot to the other, already noting that she likes a small rhythm when she’s held. “You’ll sleep right here when you’re bigger. For now you sleep right by mommy and daddy.”

You go across the hall to your room where her bassinet is set up and timidly ask Calum if it can switch sides of the bed so she can be near you. You explain it’s so you can feed her easier in the night but Calum doesn’t need an explanation, he’d do anything for you and her. He makes the switch and you gently lay her inside, kiss her forehead and clutch Calum as he stands by your side.

“I want to have more kids, I want her to have a sibling like you and Mali but I can’t go through that again,” you whisper and Calum can hear the heartache in your tone.

He pulls you close. “She will. We wanted to adopt, remember?”

You light up at that and smile with such sincerity it takes the ache right from your hearts. “Yeah. We’ll adopt,” you say and snuggle against Calum’s chest as a smirk grows on your face. “So, do you want to start that process tomorrow or?”

Calum bellows out a laugh and runs his fingers through your hair.

“Let’s take a breather, yeah? Enjoy being home with her for just a bit.”

“Okay,” you concede and Calum lets you drag him to bed where you can both rest. With his arms around you and your eyes on Mila who has fallen fast asleep you let out a content sigh and Calum smiles.

“I love you,” Calum says once and then again, one for you and one for Mila and you repeat the same back to them.

“I’m so happy to be home with my family,” you say around a sigh.

Seven months of pregnancy and seven days in the hospital have worn you both thin but in that moment there’s no other place you’d rather be. Beside your baby and in each other’s arms. The wait and anxiety are worth it once you find that all you have now is happiness and love. Calum and Mila.

<< >>

I can’t believe we’ve finally made it to this point in the dates with cal universe. I’m so appreciative of the support whether you’ve been around since the very first blurb, joined somewhere in the middle or are just finding this world. Thank you all so much. There is much to come, I hope you stick around for the journey.

Premature birth can come with many complications. What was depicted in this fic is one scenario of struggles parents and preemies can face. If you feel so inclined there are amazing charities to check out to help support families and babies in their time of need. Overall, stay kind and spread love and support.

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Tagged: @rosecolouredash @irwinkitten @golden-hood @who-do-you-love-5sos @caswinchester2000 @wildflowergrae @cuddlemecalx @malumsmermaid @babylon-corgis @outerspaceisbetterthannothing @mariellelovescupcakes @xhaileyreneex @gosh-im-short @spookydaddycal @loveroflrh @findingliam-o @flowerthug @g-l-pierce @talkfastromance4 @cashtonasfuck @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer @wastedheartcth @calumscalm @notinthesameguey @lukesfuckingbeard @myloverboyash @treatallwithkindness @haikucal @wiildflower-xxx @calum-uncrowned @egyptiangoldhood @drarryetcetera @another-lonely-heart @megz1985 @idk-harry @dinosaursandsocks @wildflower-cth @idontneedanyone @everyscarisahealingplace @myfavfanficsever @stormrider505 @karajaynetoday @333-xx @calumshpod @calumsphile @calumrose @justhereforcalum @grreatgooglymoogly @calumance @ashhhbeee @chicken-ona-stick @wish-you-were-here-hood @mantlereid @hemmingslftv @homeofpoetry @shamelessfangirl-3

[livingstonegordo]

Operation Idiots in Love

Bobby

"Okay, that's it." Hen sighed as she watched Buck run up the stairs and out the front door. "I can't take it anymore. We have gotta get them together."

"Get who together?" Bobby asked, sipping a ginger ale.

"Those two idiots who are so far up each other's asses they can't see how in love with each other they are!" she exclaimed, gesturing to where Buck disappeared too.

Chimney was nodding enthusiastically as he listened to Hen. "He's literally abandoning us because Eddie called and said he broke up with the teacher!" He threw his arms up in the air, dangerously sloshing his own drink.

"Maybe we shouldn't meddle in their personal lives, guys," Bobby admonished lightly. "If Buck and Eddie are going to actually take the leap they need to do it on their own."

"Bobby, this is a family, and family meddles in each other's personal lives." Athena gently smacked his arm for emphasis. "Not to mention they're both so oblivious it could take 20 more years before they get it together." There were laughs and murmurs of agreement from their group.

Bobby and Athena had planned a small baby shower for Maddie and Chimney, not wanting to host too many people during a pandemic, but wanting to celebrate with their chosen family. It was just them, Hen and Karen, Buck and Albert, and of course Chimney and Maddie. Eddie had been invited but had back to back appointments for Christopher and was supposed to have lunch with Ms. Flores. They'd gotten through presents, cake, and some games and were mostly just hanging around and chatting in groups when Eddie called Buck to report that, for whatever reason, he and Ana had decided to call it quits. Buck had been sprinting up the stairs before Eddie had even stopped to take a breath.

"Whose personal life are we meddling in?" Maddie asked as she made her way over to them, leaving Karen looking bewildered with a very enthusiastically gesturing Albert.

"Buck and Eddie's," Chimney said, leaning over to kiss Maddie on the cheek when she gracelessly plopped next to him on the couch. "We can't take it anymore. They obviously need a push, just to get the ball rolling."

"I wholly agree," Maddie said. "They're never gonna get there on their own." She was slowly rubbing a circle on her stomach.

"We'll need to plan it out carefully," Hen said. "Maybe we should schedule something where we can get together and brainstorm."

"I'll make a group chat now." Athena set her drink down on a coaster on the coffee table and pulled out her phone.

"We should come up with a code name," Maddie said. "We don't want them knowing we're talking about them."

Grinning, Chim said, "Operation Just Admit It Already."

Hen snickered. "Operation No Homo."

"Excuse me?" Karen said walking up.

"Operation We Can't Stand the Sexual Tension Any Longer." At that Maddie shook her head then lightly pushed Chim.

Hen quietly explained what they were up to to her wife (who looked more and more gleeful with every word) while they all got a text from Athena who had finished creating their group chat. Bobby looked at his phone, a little dismayed to be included in it, but he smiled when he saw the name of the group chat.

"That's perfect, Athena." Maddie smiled. "It's not exactly discreet but they're so oblivious they would never think it's about them."

"Bobby called them that the other night, I thought it was fitting."

"We should include Carla! She'll be so angry if we don't. She likes to gossip about them with Maddie!" Chimney said.

"We do not gossip about my brother. We simply vent about how dumb they are." Hen and Karen laughed while Chimney rolled his eyes.

Bobby sighed, sure all future down time was going to be spent on this.

Operation Idiots in Love.

---

Maddie

The next day Maddie had some time, so she called Carla to explain what they were up to and she asked immediately to be added to the group chat.

"I've been watching those two dance around each other for years. It is high time they get it together."

"Oh I know!" Maddie exclaimed. She was sitting at the table with a cup of tea, wishing it was a second cup of coffee. "I met Eddie and Chimney at the same time and I said to Buck that day ‘he's cute’ meaning Chim, but Buck immediately responded with ‘he gets that a lot, you should see his son’ cause, you know, Eddie is always on his mind. Even back then." She shook her head even though Carla wouldn't be able to see it.

"They've both been through so much, before they met and after. I just want to see my two boys happy."

"And Christopher will be okay with it, right?" Maddie, who was always on the verge of tears these days, fought to keep herself from crying.

"Honey, Christopher has told me at least 4 times that he wants his dad to marry Buck, so that Buck can be around all the time!"

"He has?" Maddie asked, losing the battle with her tear ducts.

"That boy loves our Buckaroo so much,” Carla said, and Maddie could hear the smile in her voice.

"Buck loves him so much, too," she said, sniffling. "Okay I will add you to the group chat. But I am warning you now you might want to keep it muted. Chim and Hen have been blowing it up all morning."

After hanging up with Carla, Maddie had a stern talk with her tears ducts -we cannot cry over everything for the rest of this pregnancy!- downed her tea and quickly got ready for work. She'd downgraded to only working part time as her pregnancy progressed. Since this was a geriatric pregnancy (God, did Maddie hate that word) she knew she and the baby were at a higher risk and wanted to make sure she wasn't over exerting herself- not to mention the fact that she cried a lot easier these days. And when you're a 911 operator crying is not beneficial to the people who really need her help. When she got to the call center she saw May and Linda already on the phones and Josh standing with another operator named Cheryl. She quickly made her way to the locker room to stow her bag, stopped for more tea from the break room and settled in at her desk. It was an hour later when she got some inspiration from a call. The caller was a young woman, Daisy, who was on a first date at a small vegan restaurant, and her date, Cara, had been hit by a car while crossing the street after lunch- nothing serious just a broken leg, though, from the sounds of the scene, the driver was under the influence. She dispatched a squad car and EMS to the scene and waited with Daisy who was on the verge of a panic attack. Maddie was able to keep her calm by giving her clear directions on how to help her date, and reminding her to breath. Daisy had the phone on speakerphone, laying on the pavement next to Cara’s head and when the paramedics arrived Daisy let out a sob. “They’re here! Maddie, the paramedics are here!”

“Good. I may be a little biased, but the 118 is the best firehouse in the city and they will take excellent care of Cara.”

“Playing favorites, Mads?” she heard Chimney say followed by the smack of his chewing gum. “Guess I can’t really blame you. Alright, Miss, can you tell me your name?”

“Cara,” she said weakly. Daisy must have picked up her phone and turned off speaker phone because Chimney’s voice became quieter as he continued to assess Cara’s injuries.

“They know you?” Daisy asked.

“They do.” Maddie smiled. “We’re family.”

When Daisy disconnected the call, Maddie quickly wrote down the name of the vegan restaurant knowing that her brother would love it.

---

Hen

In the week since they started this group chat Hen and Chimney had been tossing out plenty of outlandish and silly plots to get the boys together, but she knew none of them would actually work. Maddie was working on something involving a restaurant but so far nothing had happened. They needed something so rational and normal that Buck and Eddie wouldn’t even question it. They needed a new tactic so she opened up Operation Idiots In Love and sent off a message.

When did you first realize? >Hen

Chimney< When Buck completely lost it when Eddie was trapped underground

Chimney< dude was clawing at the mud with his bare hands WAILING

Karen< Christmas 2019 he organized that whole dinner so Christopher could spend Christmas with his dad!

Carla< Xmas 2019 for me as well

Athena< When Bobby called Eddie after he stole Chimney’s phone and was nearly arrested.

Karen< Does that mean Bobby knew before then?

Karen< The first time Hen mentioned it to me was when Buck arranged for Christopher to spend the day at the firehouse. Is that when you knew, babe?

Chimney< 🤮 babe

That was the day I called it. The way that Eddie looked at Buck that day nearly knocked me over >Hen

👊🏾👀⚠️>Hen

Maddie< I think I knew for sure after the tsunami. Buck called me, completely wrecked because he didn’t know how to tell Eddie they were there.

Chimney< 🪓💪😙

Chimney< What about you cap?

Bobby< The tsunami was when I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Bobby< No one else saw them after they took that live round out of the guy’s leg in the back of the ambulance. My gut knew then.

Maddie< Wasn’t that Eddie’s first week at the 118????

Chimney< IT WAS!

Bobby< I don’t think they were in love then. But I knew they would end up here.

Bobby< Buck was actually flustered when Eddie complimented him.

“Flustered!” Karen exclaimed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Buck flustered.” Hen gazed down at her wife who was laying across the couch with her head in Hen’s lap. Hen had been absentmindedly playing with Karen’s hair (which Karen loved) and had a few strands wrapped around her knuckles.

Chimney< You know that Eddie got under Buck’s skin that very first day

Chimney< If Buck hadnt been so wrapped up in Abby back then things would be so much easier now

Athena< I hate to say our Buck needed his heart broken, but the heartbreak from Abby certainly helped him get to where he is today.

Athena< We got front row seats to Buck maturing these past few years.

Buck 3.0 🙈🤣🙄 >Hen

Carla< He really has come so far ❤🙌🏼

Maddie, how is your plan coming along? 👀 >Hen

Maddie< So I'm thinking of asking him to meet me at this new trendy vegan restaurant, but I can’t think of a good reason for standing him up and suggesting he go with Eddie 🤔

Karen< He would jump at the chance to try a new vegan restaurant! 🌱🤤

Carla< Oh he would love that, not so sure about Eddie though 🥩

Maddie< Exactly

Chimney< Hes so pretentious

Maddie< Honestly, I figured Eddie would go because Buck asked. But even if he refused Buck would probably pick just another restaurant

Maddie< I just can’t think of a plausible excuse for bailing

Maddie< Buck is too good at telling when I am lying 🤥😔

Chimney< Tell him you’re having contractions! 🤰👶

He would just rush off to the hospital, Chim > Hen

Bobby< He would just want to be at Maddie’s side

Karen< No, he would just want to be there for Maddie

Chimney< Alright, alright, hes too good of a brother for that 🙏

Chimney< 🙄🙄

Hen looked at the time and sighed. “You okay with making dinner, while I do some homework?” she asked.

“Of course, babe,” Karen said, smiling up at her. “Just give me 5 more minutes on the couch with you.”

“Anything for you,” Hen said, leaning down to kiss her wife’s forehead.

---

Chimney

Maddie was at a doctor’s appointment and Chimney, upset at not being able to go and bored at home on his own, invited Buck and Albert to go on a short hike. It was a small trail that had only just opened up after the mudslide, and while Albert was a little disappointed it wasn’t a more difficult trail he at least understood that Buck and Chimney both were hesitant to embark on a long trail with Maddie so close to her due date. The trail was fairly empty so they had taken their masks off, though Chimney was a bit weirded out by how naked he felt without it while in public. With Albert running ahead and out of earshot, Chimney decided it was a good time to ask Buck about his love life.

And naturally- he was incredibly awkward about it.

“So, Buck 3.0?”

“Yeah?”

“Is he gonna dip his toe in the dating pool anytime soon?”

Buck let out a huff of breath, looking down at his feet. “Buck 3.0 is about letting go of the past, but honestly? I still don’t think that I’m really in the right headspace to be dating now. Therapy is helping, but it’s not an overnight process. It’s a lot of work letting go of nearly 30 years of low self esteem and abandonment issues.”

“You’ll get there,” Chim said, clapping Buck on the back. “You’re honestly one of the best people ever, Buck.” Buck looked over at him with a single raised eyebrow. “I will deny it if you tell anyone.” He pointed a finger a Buck for emphasis. “But you are my favorite brother.”

Buck’s face cracked into a brilliant smile and he put his hands over his heart. “Oh, Chim, do you mean it? Really and truly??”

Chimney laughed and gave Buck a shove. “I hope it echoes in your ears for the rest of your life because I’m never repeating it.”

“It’s okay. I’m Albert’s favorite brother too.”

“You are not!”

“And Albert has no problems telling me every time I wash his clothes.”

“You wash his clothes for him! Buck, never, ever give Albert anything he will never be able to take care of himself!”

“I don’t mind the laundry, so I don’t make a big deal about it. I do Eddie’s laundry sometimes too.”

“You do Eddie’s laundry?” Chimney asked, eyebrows raised high above his aviator sunglasses.

“Eddie hates doing laundry, and I mean hates. I’ve been over there while he was switching loads and he was grumbling under his breath the entire time. So sometimes if Eddie lets it pile up for too long I’ll do a couple loads while I’m there.”

“You do Eddie’s laundry?” Chim asked again, eyebrows still raised high. It was actually getting a little painful, so he let them relax and come back down. He couldn’t believe this. How domestic. He was definitely telling that to the group chat.

“Yeah, man, it’s not a big deal. Laundry helps my brain calm down. I focus on the clothes and not on all the negative shit running around up here.” He tapped his temple with his first finger, looking down at his feet again.

There was a couple jogging towards them so the conversation stalled while Chimney and Buck pulled out their masks and put them on.

They were quiet as the couple passed them, nodding in greeting and continuing on their way. When Chimney pulled his mask back off he asked, “So what happened with Eddie and the teacher?”

Buck looked over at him, eyebrows raised again as he tucked his mask into his pocket. “He didn’t really say,” Buck answered.

“He didn’t?” Chim asked. “Doesn’t he, like, tell you everything?”

“Usually. But you know Eddie. He processes things on his own time, and when he’s ready he talks about it. All he would say was that she is the one who ended it and that he wasn’t really that bothered because it was just casual and now he doesn’t have to talk to Christopher about him dating.”

“Christopher would be okay with him dating, though, right?”

“I think he would,” Buck answered. “He is legitimately the best kid I have ever met, and he wants his dad to be happy.” Buck looked at his feet here and Chimney noticed his cheeks were a little more red than before. “Chris told me once he wants his dad to date me.” He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck.

Chimney knew this already, because Maddie had told him what Carla said. He was very interested in how red Buck was turning though, another thing to report to the group chat. “Christopher wants you to date his dad?”

"If I date his dad then we can hang out all the time."

"You would love that." Chimney gave Buck a little shove. "Well all know Christopher is your favorite person in the entire world."

"He is," Buck agreed. He shoved Chimney back a little harder so that Chimney veered off the trail briefly. "He's better than you lot by miles."

They were quiet for a moment and Chimney debated whether or not he should ask. In the end his mouth won and he asked, "Would you?" Buck glanced over at Chimney but didn't say anything. "Date Eddie?" he clarified.

Buck turned an alarming shade of red and opened his mouth to respond when they heard Albert call to them.

"What are you two doing?" He was running towards them, sweaty and grinning. "I made it to the end of the trail and halfway back! Pick up your pace!!"

Buck grinned and took off running. Chimney took out his phone and started texting.

---

Athena

May was working, Bobby had run out to the store, and Harry was still staying with Michael so Athena found herself with a rare, quiet evening. She poured herself a glass of wine and headed to the table on the back patio. The Operation Idiots in Love chat she had started had been pretty active that day but Athena hadn’t had the chance to look through it until now. When she was all caught up with Chimney’s discussion with Buck and everyone’s reactions she sent off a “Sounds like they’re already dating…” and placed her phone face down on the table.

Over the years she had come to think of Buck as her step son of sorts and after seeing his heart break so many times, she just wanted him to finally be happy. Athena wasn’t one to believe that a person needed to be in a relationship in order to be happy, but the only time she had seen Buck looking genuinely content and happy was when he was around Eddie.

Plus she had been a cop for 30 years. She was an expert on picking up on the things left unsaid. She had no doubt that both of them wanted something more, but they were both too terrified of being rejected by the person they depend on the most.

Maddie’s plan was half cooked, at least, and Athena didn’t think that it would really work the way that they wanted it to - and not just because Eddie refused to eat vegan.

She was contemplating possible plans when Bobby returned. He dropped the groceries in the kitchen and came outside, hands falling on Athena’s shoulders and dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

“You’re radiating your Sergeant Grant energy,” he said as he pulled out the chair next to her. She just raised her patented Athena Eyebrow at him. “Lay it on me.” Bobby waved a hand between them. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing yet. Just thinking about what could work.”

“For Buck and Eddie?” “Mhmm.” Athena sipped her wine.

“You don’t think they need to get together in their own time? What if whatever ‘Operation’ we all come up with backfires and ruins their relationship?” The air quotes around ‘operation’ were very clear in his tone.

“I think that their relationship, as it is, is strong enough to withstand any sort of awkwardness that we may create if it backfires.” Bobby still looked skeptical. “Look, Buck and Eddie have both been burned in the past. And now they have essentially built their entire lives on top of each other. Co-dependant is how most people would think of it. They’re both terrified of losing each other so neither one of them will ever make the first move. They just need a little nudge. Something to get them both open their damn eyes and look at each other.”

“Okay,” Bobby said, nodding. “We need to keep Chimney and Hen reined in though. They seem to be a little too invested in this.”

“Agreed.”

“How about we have them over for dinner? Just the two of them and the two of us.”

“Mmm a double date?” Athena gave a second, totally different, patented Athena Eyebrow.

“That’s the goal isn’t it?” Bobby stood up pulling out his phone. “I’ll text them.”

“Have it be next Friday,” Athena called. “May will be working late that day.”

“Alright.” Bobby disappeared inside the house and Athena turned back to her wine. She picked up her own phone to text Hen and Michael about the three boys - Harry, Denny, and Christopher - having a much needed sleepover. Harry had been missing his friends since the pandemic started, and if it was just a small group Athena didn’t think they would have to worry too much.

Twenty minutes later Michael was added to Operation Idiots in Love and Athena was texting Eddie to see if Christopher could sleepover Michael’s next Friday.

[waiting4inspiration]

Obey X: Mission to Destroy

Summary: Bucky apologizes for what he had done on the last mission but you say that you're not mad at him. You mention that even though you have files on yourself, you don't know if you have the heart to see what's in it.

Warnings: angst, small fluff, strong language, mentions of triggering, nothing much because it's a really short part but if I missed something, please let me know

Word Count: 1,707

Obey Masterlist II Marvel Masterlist

Going through everything in your mind to find something specific is like meditating. You need quiet so you can block out everything around to focus one thing as you sit with your legs crossed under you and your hands resting on your knees. It’s always been the most comfortable position for you when you look for something with the database in your mind.

Sometimes, it’s a file on someone, a target you’re looking for, and someone you need information for. This time, you’re looking for something that has to do with the Server Hansen spoke about. You’ve never heard of it, but that might be because no one in HYDRA has ever talked about it around you. Probably because they didn’t want you to find out about it should you plan to do what you want to do now; disconnect the chip in your brain.

You didn’t even know there was a chip. You just thought that everything you know, that the files HYDRA uploaded into your mind was just something similar to a memory and that the port in the back of your head was a way to add or alter them.

The chip is probably how they’re able to control you. It’s probably the thing that makes you obey HYDRA whenever your programming is triggered. Hell, it’s probably the thing that has all your programming on it and when Tony tried to delete it, the chip still linked to the HYDRA Server wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Realizing that you’re losing track of your thoughts and no longer concentrating on looking for information on the Server, you breathe out a long sigh and drop your head between your shoulders. You open your eyes, run your hands through your hair, and lift your head back up.

Bucky’s sitting in front of you, his body perking up when you look at him and he shifts on his seat to lean forward. “We need to talk.” He whispers because it feels like he’ll break this peaceful atmosphere you’ve created with the lights off and the dead quiet room.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Bucky,” you reply, pushing yourself off the ground and making him shoot up to his feet to stop you from leaving.

You don’t seem to be angry about what happened, which confuses Bucky because he thought that you would be. But you do seem to be upset. He can tell from the way you refuse to look at him again after you turned your head away from him. “(Y/n),” he softly calls to you, stepping forward and dipping his head so that he can catch your gaze again. “Please look at me.”

You shake your head, a silent sob leaving your lips as tears start to build up in your eyes. “You promised,” you whisper, slowly lifting your head up to look at him. “You promised you wouldn’t trigger my programming,” you say.

“I know,” he sighs, stepping forward only for you to take a step back. “But I also promised that I would protect you and the only way I could do that-”

“Was by triggering me. I know,” you sigh, your shoulders relaxing as you breathe out a sigh. “I’m not angry that you did. I just…” You trail off, shake your head, and wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish there could have been a way for you to warn me before you did. I never realized how much I hate being triggered until now,” you mention, turning away from Bucky to walk a little bit away from him.

Bucky walks towards you, his footsteps making your head turn over your shoulder to look at him and seeing the soft look on his face makes you turn to face him again. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, cupping your face in his hands as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours. “I know I broke a promise. Believe me, I didn’t want to do that,” he says, and you nod your head gently against his hands. “I know you’re not angry. But you have every right to be. And I swear, I will do anything to make this up to you.”

You step forward, rest your hands on his chest and lean into his touch as he gently caresses the top of your cheek. “I just want all this to end. I don’t want HYDRA getting in the way of everything and ruining everything,” you softly say, nuzzling your face against his as he drops his hands away from your face. “And I know I can’t do this alone,” you add, wrapping your arms around his neck and his hands come to rest on your hips.

“I’ll be there. Right by your side, every step of the way” he says, making a smile grow on your face. “And I promise, with all my heart, I won’t trigger your programming again.”

That makes you shake your head. “Don’t make that promise. We both know you might have to break it again,” you say, and he chuckles. “I need to carry on looking for information on this Serve,” you whisper, pulling away from Bucky and stepping backward.

He grabs your hand before you get out of his reach and stops you from walking back to the spot where you were sitting. “You need to rest,” he says, pulling you with him as he starts to head out of the room. You give him an unapproving whine and gently try to pull your hand out of his hold. “No matter what HYDRA says, you’re not a machine, (Y/n),” he jokes, looking over his shoulder back at you while he continues to pull you towards the door.

“I think like one,” you mutter, finally pulling your hand out of him as you come to his side and start walking with him down the corridor. Out the corner of your eye, you see him smirking and you can’t stop yourself from asking the question that suddenly comes to mind. “Have you ever thought about what might have happened if HYDRA never got their hands on you?”

Just as you had expected, his smile drops and you see a somber look fill his eyes. He doesn’t look down at you, keeps his gaze in front of him as he swallows roughly and curls his hand into a fist, making the mechanical parts whirr. “Sometimes,” he mutters, his eyes dropping down to his feet. “I probably would have gone down in that plane with Steve, spent 60 years on ice with him. And I’d follow him through all the trouble he got into. And I would still have ended up here, just in better condition,” he explains, turning his head down to his mechanical arm that he raises slightly in front of him. “That probably means you wouldn’t be here.”

You shrug your shoulders as you turn your head away from looking at him and bite your lower lip. “I don’t know,” you say, more to yourself as you come to a halt in the middle of the corridor.

Bucky turns around after having taken a few steps forward, not expecting you to stop walking. He sees you staring blankly at the ground, as if you’re trying to think of something. “What do you mean you don’t know?” he asks carefully and you give him a knowing look. “What about your life before HYDRA?”

“I…” You trail off, shake your head to yourself as you look out the window beside you. “I don’t remember anything before HYDRA. For all I know-” you look back at Bucky- “I grew up in HYDRA. What if I’m just someone they pulled off the streets and my life before they did was shitty? What if I already was a HYDRA agent? Or the kid of a HYDRA agent? I don’t know if I want to know what my life was like before HYDRA,” you ramble, looking at Bucky with a small frown on your face.

He steps forward, a gentle look on his face as if to tell you that it’s all going to be okay. “Don’t you have files on yourself?” he questions, hoping that it will ease you a bit if you look through them to find out what your life was like before all this happened to you.

“I do. I’m just scared to look at them.”

“Why?” he asks, now standing in front of you yet again. Only, this time he’s afraid to reach out to touch you as a means to comfort you because he’s scared you might cry. He’s seen you close to crying a few times, but never has he seen a tear roll down your cheek because you were sad. In pain, yes. But he’s never seen you crying out of sadness.

You take a breath, close your eyes and drop your head between your shoulders. “Because I’m scared that if I look and see what my life was like, and I see that it was terrible, I’d feel that HYDRA did me a favor,” you explain. Your file pops into your mind’s eye but like always, you don’t look into it. You don’t want to see the memories that have been taken away from you. “Even if it was good-” You laugh, shaking your head as you look up at Bucky again- “it would just be something else that they’ve taken from me.”

Bucky understands. Because even if HYDRA never got their hands on him and he ended up not following Steve into decades of hibernation, he likes to think that maybe he would have settled down, found a girl and got married to her, had a family, that kind of domestic life. But again, it was something that HYDRA took from him.

“Still, you could have some good memories,” he softly mentions, catching your interest and making your head tilt to the side. “Sometimes, they’re good for helping you get through tough times.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth and you shift on your feet. “Does it help you?”

He chuckles, smiling down at you as he joins you by your side again. “Most of the time,” he simply mentions before urging you to start walking again.

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[bearly-writing]

Hello! I absolutely loved "Bite the Bullet!" If you are still taking requests for Hurt/Comfort Bingo, could you possibly fill CPR with Dick Grayson/Nightwing receiving CPR from someone in the Bat family - preferably Bruce/Batman or Jason/Red Hood? Keep up the great work :D

Thank you so much for the lovely request! I’m really glad you enjoyed Bite the Bullet! I can only apologise for how long this fill has taken 😅

All of my prompts have been requested! I know it’s been a very long time since I last filled one of these, and I’m not sure if any of the prompters are still interested in these (or even remember that I was supposed to fill one for them 😂) but I am definitely going to finish these, including the Voltron ones!

Pale Reflections

Fandom: Batman

Prompt: CPR

Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Warnings: Near death experiences, Drowning, Past character death, blood and injury

Summary: Bruce blinks again. A chill breeze brushes against him, searching for a way through his uniform. Concrete, Bruce tells himself, it’s concrete, not sand. It’s water, not blood. It’s Dick.

And yet, he’s as still as Jason was then, as lifeless. Bruce moves without thinking. He isn’t thinking. His mind is utterly blank, a void in his head.

Read it on AO3 here!

Bruce doesn’t actually see Dick go into the water. There’s a shout - Jason, Bruce thinks - the confused sounds of a struggle, the splash of something heavy disappearing into the river. Bruce doesn’t have time to worry about it, not with the horde of Joker’s goons he’s trying to keep from overwhelming him.

So he doesn’t see his son hit the murky water. Doesn’t see his muscles seize at the shock of icy cold. Doesn’t see the dark gape of his mouth or the flash of black hair as Dick struggles to stay at the surface, his arms rigid and useless at his sides, his face tipped up to the dark Gotham sky and then, abruptly, not.

By the time Bruce has dropped his final opponent and turned around, Jason has already pulled him out. They’re both soaked, filthy water running in rivulets over Jason’s leather jacket, dripping off the curly ends of his hair. There’s a small puddle of it under Dick, who’s lying motionless against the concrete of the docks.

For a moment, Bruce doesn’t understand what he’s seeing. There’s Jason, kneeling on the ground, his helmet gone, face tight with fear. There’s Tim, standing over them, mouth wide, eyes gleaming in the dim light. There’s Dick, lying still underneath them, so <I>still</i>, the lenses of his domino flipped up, his eyes shut, wet strands of hair plastered to his pale forehead.

Bruce’s heart seizes in his chest. Thuds to a stop behind his ribs. Around him, the night is cool and dark but Bruce feels suddenly too warm, flushed with phantom heat. He blinks, lashes rasping against the lenses of the cowl and it’s somehow still there - that morbid plateau, his children blocky shadows in the darkness.

Bruce blinks again. A chill breeze brushes against him, searching for a way through his uniform. Concrete, Bruce tells himself, it’s concrete, not sand. It’s water, not blood. It’s Dick.

And yet, he’s as still as Jason was then, as lifeless. Bruce moves without thinking. He isn’t thinking. His mind is utterly blank, a void in his head.

Jason glances up when Bruce reaches them and his eyes are wide and white and he <i>snarls</i> as Bruce reaches out towards Dick, hunching over his brother, getting in the way. Bruce ignores him. Kneels. Close up, Dick looks even worse: pale and shining damply like some water-logged corpse.

Bruce has to swallow against a surge of acrid bile. He yanks off his gauntlet, tosses it across the dock. Presses fat, nerveless fingers against the crease beneath his son’s jaw. For an aching moment, he feels nothing. No thrum of blood beneath his skin. No sign of life. The sun is hot against his back. Sand shifts beneath his knees - or maybe it’s ash, thrown up by the smouldering debris. The smell of blood is heavy in the air.

Then, weak and thready, but there - a struggling pulse.

There’s a ringing in Bruce’s head so loud that he almost misses Tim crouching beside him, the three of them lined up on their knees like men at prayer. Bruce tilts Dick’s head back and his face is like a mask, waxy and unnaturally blank and it looks so <i>wrong</i>. Bruce drops his own head and stares intently at his son’s chest instead. No puff of air against his cheek. No steady rise and fall of Dick’s ribs. Bruce yanks his cowl back with a shaking hand and presses his face right against Dick’s lips. Still nothing.

The world drops out from underneath Bruce.

“Is he breathing?” Tim asks. He sounds very far away, as if he’s the one who’s underwater. The air is thick as jello and just as hard to breathe,

Bruce’s throat is too tight to speak, the words sealed inside his chest. All he can do is shake his head.

He’s not breathing. Dick isn’t breathing. Bruce’s <i>son</i> isn’t breathing.

Remember his training: CPR, one of the first things he had learned. Clear the airways - Bruce has already tilted Dick’s head back the way you’re supposed to. So: rescue breaths. Bruce gently presses Dick’s mouth open, using his other hand to keep Dick’s head tilted back. Then he seals his mouth over his son’s.

One. Two. Three.

Check for breath. Nothing. Time for compressions, then. One palm flat on his sternum, the other curled around his own splayed fingers. Arms straight to keep the force behind the movement. Don’t worry about breaking ribs, right now, it’s more important to get his chest moving.

There’s a rhythm to the whole thing. A song: <I>Nelly the Elephant packed her trunk and said goodbye to the circus</I>.

Dick - Dick has a little stuffed toy elephant. Zitka, she’s called rather than Nelly, after the actual elephant he had known, back when he’d been part of the circus. Bruce has seen it a hundred times. Dick used to cart the thing everywhere - out on family walks on the grounds, cuddled in his arms during movie nights, tucked under his chin when he’d snuggled against Bruce after sneaking into his room at night, seeking comfort after nightmares.

Does he still have it? Bruce doesn’t know. Maybe it’s back at the manor, safely tucked away in a closet in his old room. Maybe it’s in Bludhaven, sitting proudly in the middle of a messy bed. It’s not like Dick is ashamed of that sort of thing - of needing comfort, of his fond nostalgia for his childhood.

Bruce should find it for him. Bruce - he needs to find his little boy’s elephant, he needs to make this better, because Dick is <i>hurt</I> and Bruce needs him not to be.

How many compressions has that been? Dick is still and silent under Bruce’s hands. When Bruce pulls back, he half expects Dick to be watching him, eyes bright, but his lids are still closed, pale and waxy in the dim light. The only eyes on him are Tim’s and Jason’s, burning heavy against the side of his face.

More rescue breaths. Dick’s chest rises a little beneath Bruce’s palm, but it’s only his own air forcing his child’s chest to move. More compressions. Tim is saying something, sounding like he’s speaking from the other end of a very long tunnel, and Bruce can’t hear him over the thundering of his own pulse in his ears. Something about an ambulance, maybe? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting Dick to <i>breathe</I> again.

Something cracks under his palm. Bruce falters. His ribs. His little boy’s ribs are cracked and broken under his fingers. A jut of jagged bone, slick with blood and viscera presses against him. Bruce snatches his hands back like they’ve been burnt. Stares at them blankly in the dim light. There’s - they should be soaked in blood, gloves torn by debris, but there’s only the slight shine of water against the black.

There’s a roaring like distant thunder. Like desert wind. The air is so dry. Bruce can’t breathe. His chest is so tight. Like iron. Like his own ribs are caved in. His vision blurs like the whole world is spinning around him.

Someone pushes Bruce out of the way. He tries to plant himself in front of his son, his little boy. No one deserves to touch him. No one should have a chance to hurt him. But Bruce’s muscles don’t seem to be responding to him and he’s too weak to fight against the forceful shove.

Broad shoulders block his view of his son, brown leather stretched between them. Bruce stares blankly at the man’s back as he takes over compressions. Muscles ripple beneath his jacket. The thud of each push echoes in Bruce’s ears.

It’s Jason, Bruce realises, as slowly as if he’s swimming through treacle. It’s Jason pressing down on his son’s chest with measured, forceful thrusts. But that isn’t right, because it’s Jason on the floor, his body broken and ruined, his chest still.

Or - no - it’s not Jason. It’s not Jason lying shattered on the desert sand. It’s Dick. This isn’t a memory of the past. A painful ghost of a horror that Bruce couldn’t stop. This is real and this is happening. To Dick. To Bruce’s eldest son.

And Bruce is sitting helplessly at the side as his son dies.

No. No. This isn’t - this isn’t happening. Not to Dick. This isn’t possible.

There’s a strange disconnect in Bruce’s mind. It keeps him frozen as Jason bends down and forces Dick’s shattered chest to rise. As Tim shuffles closer, pale hands fluttering, brushing damp locks of hair from Dick’s still face.

In the distance, a siren wails. Bruce hears it as though it’s coming from another planet. How many times has Dick been on another planet? How many times has Bruce worried himself sick over the danger his boy might be in, where Bruce can’t protect him. And now Dick is dying right under Bruce’s nose and he hadn’t even <i>noticed</I>.

The breath feels caught in Bruce’s throat. If Dick isn’t breathing, then Bruce doesn’t see why he should. <I>Please</I>, he begs, please let him take Dick’s place. Bruce can’t bury another son. He can’t.

He barely notices the ambulance arrive. It only registers when Jason pulls away, making space for the paramedics to take over saving Dick’s life. A desperate possessiveness rises in Bruce’s chest then. These people don’t know Dick. They don’t remember when he messed up sliding down the bannister and skinned his knee. They’ve never tucked him into bed with them after a nightmare, feeling tears soak through their cotton shirt. They’ve never held him in their arms after he took a bad tumble on patrol and felt how small he is, how fragile.

When he lunges for his son, not even entirely sure what he’s planning to do, strong arms catch him. Bruce fights against them without any finesse. Snarling. Desperate. But the grip holds firm. Someone is murmuring low in his ear but Bruce can’t hear them over the pounding of his heart and his own frantic noises.

“B,” the voice growls. “Stop. They’re trying to help him. You need to let them.”

Bruce hears the words, but doesn’t register them. All he can think is that Dick is hurt and someone is keeping Bruce from him. Someone is stopping him from getting to his son.

“B!” A different voice. Less growly but no less desperate. “Listen to Hood. Calm down.”

It’s Jason’s vigilante name that finally breaks through the static in Bruce’s head. It’s Jason’s arms around him, his voice in his ear. It’s Tim standing in front of them both, face pale beneath his domino.

Bruce slumps. Jason takes his weight with surprising ease. When did his boy get so strong? So big? Bruce had missed it. Missed Jason growing from the skinny little teenager he’d been to the vigilante he is now.

Tim closes the distance between them, blocking Bruce’s view of the ambulance and whatever the paramedics are doing with Dick. His face is so pale he’s almost glowing. His dark eyebrows are pulled low over his eyes in concern.

“He’ll be okay, B,” he says, shakily.

Bruce shuts his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the fear on his face or the ambulance as it pulls away, taking his son with it.

***

Dick is fine, Bruce tells himself. The heart monitor is beeping softly and steadily in the background. Dick’s hand is warm in his own, fingers limp but soft and dry. They’re only keeping him in the hospital to monitor for dry drowning and to let his ribs heal up a little. The worst danger has passed.

Jason is fine too. And Tim. They’ve gone to get coffee and snacks from the vending machine down the hall. They were in here just a few moments ago. Jason is here. Tim is here. Dick is here.

Bruce hasn’t lost anyone today.

As if spurred by the thought, Dick’s fingers twitch in Bruce’s grip. Bruce squeezes them in his own almost automatically. Then he shifts to lean over the bed, brushing Dick’s hair back from his pale face. Dick blinks, dark eyelashes fluttering. He groans.

“Dick?” Bruce asks, lowly. He hadn’t meant the name to come out so tentative, so broken, but his throat feels like it’s been torn to shreds.

Dick’s head lolls against the pillow. Bruce shifts to cup his cheek and hold him steady. Blue eyes peek out at him from beneath heavy, waxy lids. Bruce’s mouth feels so dry. Like a desert.

“B?” Dick murmurs. And if Bruce had sounded bad, Dick sounds as though he’s been gargling glass.

“I’m here,” Bruce says. “I’m here, Dick. You’re okay.”

Dick frowns. He blinks but his eyes are still glazed and unfocused. “What,” he manages, “what happened? Where am I?”

Bruce strokes a trembling hand over Dick’s cheek. Why is he shaking? Batman’s hands are supposed to be steady. And Dick is fine. He’s here. He’s talking, even. Perfectly okay.

“You’re at the hospital, sweetheart. You were thrown into the harbour during patrol.”

Dick swallows dryly. His throat clicks. It sounds like it hurts and Bruce can’t stop himself from wincing.

“The hospital?” Dick whispers.

“Gotham General.”

“Why?” Dick asks, dark brows low over shiny eyes. “Why not…the cave?”

Bruce’s throat is thick, his words unwieldy. “You nearly died,” Bruce croaks. “You were…you weren’t breathing. We needed an ambulance. Otherwise…”

He can’t bring himself to finish. Stupidly, Bruce feels quick heat rising behind his eyes, the threat of tears. Suddenly, he can’t breathe. His hands are shaking so badly. To try to stem the trembling, Bruce clasps them close to his chest. Then he bends over them, pressing his face to Dick’s sternum. His son’s heart thuds beneath his ribs.

“B?” Dick asks, again, voice small and unsure. A hand touches Bruce’s head, nimble fingers threading through his sweaty hair.

“You nearly died,” is all Bruce can manage, muffled against the hospital sheets.

Dick makes a soft sound. He pets at Bruce and a swell of painful affection crashes through Bruce’s chest.

“I’m here,” Dick whispers, voice rough. “I’m still here, B. I’m fine.”

“I know,” Bruce whispers back, but he can’t bring himself to lift his head. The thud of Dick’s heart is too reassuring. He remembers it weak and thready against his fingers. He remembers pressing his face to a shattered chest and hearing nothing but hollow silence.

Dick doesn’t reply, but his hand continues to move against Bruce’s hair. Bruce appreciates the reassurance - the way Dick implicitly understands that Bruce needs to know he’s awake. He’s alive.

They sit like that for long enough that Bruce is surprised Dick doesn’t fall back asleep. Eventually, Jason and Tim return. If they’re surprised by the scene they stumble on - Dick awake but not fully aware, Bruce bent over him like a man at prayer - they make no comment.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” Jason says, gruffly. “You nearly gave the old man a heart attack.”

Dick hums. Bruce wants to defend himself, but he can’t seem to dredge up the words.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Dick says, softly. “All of you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Jason says, dismissively.

Bruce remembers the wide, wild look in Jason’s eyes. The way he had snarled at Bruce when he’d first reached Dick’s side.

He doesn’t remind Jason of that.

“Still,” Dick says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Bruce says, finally lifting his head. He cups Dick’s cheek again, fondly. “I’m just glad you’re still here.”

Dick swallows again. Bruce will have to ask Tim or Jason to get some ice.

“Me too,” Dick says. “I’m not going anywhere, B.”

[mageofseven]

Brothers react to MC who has been running on little to no sleep and coffee for days but keeps saying they’re fine and not about to collapse

Decided to put these together since their prompts are pretty similar.

Also, Belphie's section kinda took it's own turn 😅 it's not bad, simply went heavier on the nightmare aspect of the one ask and doesn't really have much in the way of the caffeine or sleeplessness, but I hope you like it nonetheless~

~

Lucifer:

Not the habit of his that he wished them to mimick, if he's honest.

Is very worried about their health, both physical and emotional.

Confiscates the rest of their energy drinks and refuses to let them attend RAD the next few days so they can stay home and sleep.

Any arguements on the matter fall on deaf ears

And if they try the pull the "You do it too!" card since he often uses caffeine to get him through sleepless nights of work, he will remind them that he is a demon and his body can take a lot more strain than theirs.

Stays home with them to make sure they sleep; after all, he has been tasked with keeping them healthy just as much as he has with their physical safety.

Catches them trying to work on homework in their room on the first day and all but carries them to his room.

Makes them sleep in his bed while he does paperwork at his desk.

Whenever he'd hear them whimper in their sleep, he'd wake them and help calm them.

Has to do this a lot over the course of the next few days and becomes even more concerned.

Eventually asks if something is bothering his Love that is fueling these nightmares

And if they'd rather not talk to him about it, he offers to help them get in touch with a therapist that they can talk to.

Ends up setting the human on a better track physically, but acknowledges that their emotional wellbeing is more difficult and more so depends on what they are willing to do for themselves than anything he can do for them.

Mammon:

Oh lord, they got this boy worried.

Not that he will straight up tell them, but still.

Gets Lucifer to let the two of them skip school for a few days to try fix them up (normally this would be a hard no from the oldest, but even he noticed how sleep deprived the human was and knew that it was necessary to fix their sleep schedule and have them rest).

Mammon was the only one that knew about his Human's nightmares though and honestly, he wasn't sure how to handle that part.

Step one! Put down the Monster, human!

Step two! He's dragging them to his bed and they are staying put till they fall asleep!

After that...the Avatar of Greed has no clue what to do.

The man lays down with them and relaxes them enough to fall asleep.

He stayed by them, just in case. He tried laying in bed with them, but eventually the man got uncomfortable so he switched to walking around the room or sitting on the couch. He avoided leaving the room or doing anything too loud though.

When he first noticed their cries from the bed, the man dropped his phone on the couch before rushing over.

He hovered over the bed for a minute. Should he wake them? Is it better to let them them sleep through it?

But as MC let out another whimper, the man knew he couldn't just do nothing.

"Oi! Babe!"

The human woke with a start and clung to their boyfriend before they were even aware of it.

Mammon sat on the bed and let his Human lean against him and cry. He didn't really know what to say so he just stroked their hair awkwardly as they cried.

"Was it the same dream?" He mumbled once they calmed down.

Silence. How was he suppose to help if they didn't wanna talk about it?

"I'm sorry..." MC whispered.

"Don't be sorry, babe; just talk to me 'ere."

MC tugged at him so the two of them could lay back down together.

"I don't wanna think about it..."

The second brother shut up at that, feeling like an ass for pushing them. Of course, MC didn't see it that way though; they knew he was just worried.

Mammon stayed in bed with them this time, not leaving their side even once after they fell back asleep.

After about a week of focusing on sleep, MC gets better physically, but the nightmares were still an issue.

It helped having Mammon close to them though so they were at least less frequent. The demon still has no clue what they keep dreaming about that scares them so much, but his Human feels safer with him there so that's something.

Leviathan:

MC tried really hard to hide their issue from him so he didn't worry

But of course, the third brother isn't blind and eventually noticed the extreme caffeine intake and lack of brain power

Leading him to ask questions and finally make his Henry admit they've been avoiding sleep for the last few days because of some really bad nightmares.

Immediately blames himself. The Avatar of Envy falls into a pit of self hatred, telling himself he should know this stuff and that MC kept this from his because they think he's weak and worthless and--

Yeah. MC has to spend time and what literally energy they have assuring him that none of that is true.

It was a Friday evening so no school to miss. Instead, Levi gets MC to go to sleep early

Which they agreed...as long as they could sleep with him.

Cue the blushing. The couple had yet to actually sleep in the same bed together yet or in the case of his room, the same bathtub.

Didn't really feel he could say no though with his Henry needing him so badly though.

MC could feel their boyfriend's heart pounding from nervousness as they curled up in the tub together; it didn't really calm down till the human fell asleep and Levi heard their soft breathing. It was actually pretty calming.

Not enough for him to fall asleep though. I mean, this boy usually stays up all night playing video games.

Ends up playing a game on his phone with the volume muted.

Eventually feels MC pressing up against him in their sleep and crying into his shoulder.

The boy freezes.

What was he suppose to do?! Does he wake them?? But they need sleep! But they're having a nightmare! Gaaah

The demon debated this for a few minutes before finally shaking them awake.

Even when they awoke, MC still cried against him.

Surprisingly enough though, the human was willing talk about their dream.

The nightmare they kept having...was about about him leaving them??

The envy demon's brain was stuck on buffering...what did he just hear?

The man didn't even feel like he deserved them, but some part of them was actually afraid he'd break up with them?

Dude couldn't even wrap his head around it, if he's honest.

"That'd never happen... I'm not dumb or anything, Normie..."

Though he doesn't like that they've worried about this so much that started having nightmares about it...their boyfriend is also kinda relieved because of them? Like, the bad dreams are proof that they actually love him just as much as he loves them, despite his self esteem (or lack of) always trying to tell him otherwise.

Satan:

Caught onto things pretty quickly and tried to simply ask them to go to sleep at a reasonable time that night

Just to discover the next day that they had lied to him and stayed up all night doing school work.

Annoyed, the blonde becomes a lot firmer with them. No more caffeine.

Once the human started to crash, Satan led to his room and had them sleep in his bed.

"I don't want to...dream it again."

"What is it that you keep dreaming, Kitten?" He asked, eyebrows raised

But they had already fallen alseep.

Concerned, the blonde stayed right next to them, sitting on the bed and reading a book while his other hand on top of theirs as they slept.

At some point during the night when Satan was ready to go to sleep as well, he felt the human's body suddenly tense up and their breathing became heavier.

He got up to put his book back on the shelf and MC almost instantly cried out in their sleep.

He dropped his book down on a randomly pile before sitting back down, calling out to his Kitten and shaking their shoulder.

The human woke up and found themselves clinging to his leg.

Satan stroked their hair.

"Shh. It's okay, Kitten; you're alright."

When the human calmed down, he discovered that they have been having the same dream the last few nights--or they believe it to be the same dream. They always forget it once they wake up, but it always makes their heart race and they just cry till feel empty inside, like they are not even inside their own body, but hovering outside of it.

He could feel it, how disconnected they had now become from themself, the world, even him. They were with him yet not.

The next few nights, he runs different magical tests on them to see if he can find the source of these strange nightmares that seemingly force themself out of their own body.

He will get answers. Satan cannot leave his sweet Kitten with this issue.

Asmodeus:

One of the few brothers that MC never tried to hide their problem from, though partially because they usually sleeps in his bedroom so Azzy was woken up by their thrashing and cries from the nightmare a few nights before they tried to use caffeine and sleeplessness to fix their problem.

Keyword here is tried; their boyfriend refused to let them do this to themselves. He knew better than most how important sleep was for a person's health and beauty and wasn't about to let the human sabotage themselves.

Ends up lighting a calming incense and massaging their back and shoulders before launching into a talk session. What's the dream about? Has anything been making you stressed lately? Azzy needs to hear all of it.

Finds out that they've been dreaming about...well, their past with their family in the human world. Some bad memories that get twisted into something even worse in the dreams.

"Doll..." Asmo, still sitting behind them from the massage, wraps his arms around their waist and kisses their neck then cheek.

Has mega long vent session about their family in the human world. Asmo lost some precious beauty sleep, but it was worth it because when the two finally went to sleep, MC didn't have a single nightmare that night nor the next few nights after.

As long as the human vented every once in a while instead of bottling it up, his Dolly was able to sleep with no issues.

Beelzebub:

Another one MC shared a bed with and knew about their nightmares.

In all honesty, I just can't imagine MC trying to hide anything from him and make it far enough to even have the caffeine and sleepless night issue.

Beely is simply too caring and observant. He's also someone I'd personally have trouble lying to since he's so sweet and I think many others would feel the same.

Instead, the big guy would comfort them each night, waking them from their nightmare and hold them close for a while before asking if they want some water or snack.

He'd listen to his Muffin talk about their the nightmare if they comfortable with it and promise them that regardless of what the dream was about that they're safe with him.

Would probably go to Satan and ask what he knows about the topic and if there's anything he can do to help stop MC's nightmares.

The poor guys just never wants his Muffin to feel scared or unsafe, even in their sleep 😔

Belphegor:

Another brother they never lied to about it, but honestly, only because MC was never given the chance to.

I mean really, how do you hide sleep and dream issues from the freaking Avatar of Sloth?

The very first night they had the nightmare, Belphie was woken up by some of their thrashing and cries.

Instead of waking them up however, the demon used his powers to slip into their dream to see what was causing them to break down so hard in their sleep

And didn't like the answer he found.

When he peaked into their dream...he discovered that it was about that night. About the Incident™️.

He watched another version of himself with his hand wrapped his Human's throat, killing them all over again.

Honestly, the sloth demon isn't when he did it, but found his real self materialized in the dream and on top of his dream version, beating down on the fake him and eventually choking him till the fake simply disappeared in a puff of smoke.

MC was on the ground, regaining their breath as they watched the two Belphies fight. When the fight was over and the remaining Belphie was alone on the floor, crying angry and frustrated tears, the human got up and rushed over to him.

Belphie pushed them away, avoiding their hug.

"Dummy. You shouldn't try to comfort me. I haven't even told you this is a dream yet..."

MC had no way of knowing what was happening then was a dream so from their point of view in this small memory turned dream, Belphie was nothing more than a copy of the man who tried to kill them, but they still felt the need to comfort him...

Devil, he didn't understand them. Not in this moment in the dream or in the waking world. This human... after everything, how can they care about him? How can they love him?

"Dream?"

And with that, Belphie made them wake up and the two were back in the real attic, curled up in bed.

The man sat up and scooted over to the edge of the bed, feet on the floor and head in his hands.

It took the human a few moments to adjust to what just happened, but eventually they wiped a few tears away and scooted behind him, hugging their boyfriend from behind.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't. You didn't do anything wrong, Butthead..."

Man, what's wrong with them? Belphie just didn't understand them. His brain was stuck on a loop with that thought.

"Belphie, I know you're different. You're not the same now as you were that night."

"Yeah, but I still did it," He raised his head and turned around to face him. "And don't pretend that it doesn't matter anymore because you wouldn't being having a nightmare about it if it didn't matter."

Their boyfriend had a point. The Incident™️...it was a traumatic experience for them. I mean, they died. Yet because MC forgives him and has fallen for him, they try to so hard to downplay it so they won't hurt him, but in truth, all it does is drive the seventh brother crazy.

"...You're right. It does matter." MC said softly. "But not as much as you matter to me."

MC took his hand and squeezed it.

"I love you... I don't want you hurt over this anymore."

"What, like it's okay that you hurt over?" Belphie took his hand back and stared intensely at them. "Promise me. Promise you won't keep downplaying this and you'll let me...shit, I don't know. Do anything you need."

"I..." MC lowered their head. "Okay."

Belphie pulled his Human into a hug.

"I love you, Butthead." He mumbled. "Don't ever try putting me before your own feelings or even your mental health. I'm not worth that..."

[shinjaeha]

ipytm ep 3 (thoughts + spoilers)

this is going to be a tough post for me to do bc honestly...this ep just left me feeling so run down. i know that the cast and crew have always strived for realism and authenticity with this series, but this one was just a lot to take in :/ my thoughts are gonna be even more all over the place than usual but idec at this point. having to rewatch this ep again is really fucking hard (even harder than itsay ep 4 bc even though that makes my heart ache, i still feel some sense of satisfaction from the development we get...this just leaves me feeling defeated in every way).

you know the drill: not an analysis, just me ranting as usual bc free therapy (and boy do i need it after this one)!! i had so many feelings watching this ep (esp towards teh but what’s new), so here goes.

we begin with the drama students rehearsing for jai’s new play, and the introduction of the plum wine which will be the recurring motif in this whole ep. the use of the plum wine in this also kind of reminds me of how teh initially disliked coconuts until he started falling in love with oh-aew and started to like them instead...i’m guessing that’s the parallel they’re trying to draw with the plum wine comparison in this.

teh’s having a hard time getting into character (which we already know from last ep was always going to be one of the toughest challenges for him as an actor). his character in the play is supposed to have a sex scene, but he’s struggling with this bc he can’t put himself in his character (akin’s) shoes, so jai ends rehearsals early.

jai gives them all logbooks which he basically wants them to treat as diaries where they’ll write everything they feel/learn and hand it back to him (he’ll be the only one reading them). ngl this already had me feeling kind of yikes (esp now as i rewatch this knowing how everything went down) since jai already has inside knowledge about teh’s feelings on his relationship with oh-aew which he can take advantage of :/ more on that later though...

it’s sad to me that so much time has passed since teh’s argument with khim and he's STILL avoiding her. khim was someone that he respected immensely (and was such a great mentor for him) so it just sucks to see that their relationship has deteriorated so much since the first two eps. teh might have had his reconciliation moment with oh-aew last ep, but there’s still a lot that he’s not ready or willing to address yet.

i understand that teh’s just encouraging jai about his work when he tells him to stop having others comment on it, but at the same time, i disagree with him bc i think it IS important to get other peoples’ opinion about your work. how else will you ever be able to see things from other perspectives if you don’t?

anyway, teh tells jai he’s seeing a play, and jai asks teh if he’s bringing oh-aew...the look on teh’s face is telling enough that things aren’t going great between them (at least on his end). this brings us to the logbook scene, where teh’s homework for the day is to write about the similarities and differences between himself and his character in the play. this gets teh to reflect on how he feels his relationship with oh-aew is changing, or specifically, how oh-aew seems to be changing so much that teh feels like he’s becoming someone else entirely...and does that mean that he still loves him the same?

i feel like this is a fairly common issue with people that have been in a relationship for a while (and this is their third year together now), so i understand how teh might start having doubts. it’s nothing that oh-aew’s done, it’s just that sometimes all these small changes can keep mounting up to the point that they feel much bigger than they actually are. oh-aew’s really just doing what everyone else does, which is grow and change as they get older, but teh’s still stuck in the past trying to hold onto what they used to have instead of evolving with oh-aew. the way teh picks at all these little changes of oh-aew does make me think that he’s self-sabotaging himself. he’s just so afraid and insecure that oh-aew will change so much he leaves him, that he has to nitpick at reasons why oh-aew’s the one that’s growing away from him (though when we watch the whole ep we know that that’s not the case at all). it’s like a ‘if i push him away first, then he won’t push me away’ sort of self-defence mechanism. either way, teh’s a constant overthinker...and he’s always been his own biggest enemy since the start, so it makes perfect sense to me that he would do this to himself here too.

i know that they’ve been together for years at this point, so things are not quite as exciting as they used to be, but it hurts to see oh-aew be so happy about getting an A for his class, and teh be so unenthused about it. oh-aew has to basically beg teh to give him attention and praise. remember when teh used to get so worried when oh-aew did badly in chinese class...and now it’s like whatever to him just bc he’s not tutoring him/they’re not in the same major anymore :((( i know it’s prob both bc teh’s still hurting that oh-aew transferred majors, and from seeing oh-aew succeed while he feels like he’s failing, but still...

also, not inviting him to see the play with him bc he thought oh-aew wouldn’t be interested/oh-aew kept falling asleep whenever they saw plays together ;;; i get the reasoning from both povs, but it still is nice to be asked :(

so one thing i have to say about the progression of their relationship here is that i just feel this huge disconnect from last ep and this ep?? i know it’s bc of the time skip (since it’s a year later basically), but to go from the end of ep 2, where they’re promising to love each other forever, and then to teh feeling disillusioned/as though he’s falling out of love with oh-aew basically right after that?? it’s so jarring. i feel like we lose so much with these time skips bc the transition from ep 2 to ep 3 is never really shown, so there’s this lack of flow there. like we’ve skipped a step entirely and something’s missing. this is the disadvantage of only focussing on one year per ep since there’s not enough time to explore as much character and relationship development when we’re only seeing an hour long snippet of an entire year. it just makes things feel superficial since so much of what we should be seeing is missing...and we basically have to fill in all the gaps ourselves.

okay, back to oh-aew ranting to his friends about how he feels like his relationship with teh is fading away bc they don’t have the same interests anymore, but also wondering if that’s just normal for long-term relationships. bless that boy that came to ask oh-aew for his ig :’) at least he knows that he’s wanted and has options, even if he obv turns him down bc of teh (for now).

plug and mangpong are dating!!!!!!! and mangpong does a horrible job of trying to hide it 😂 sidenote, but i love the way pp delivers lines sometimes (like the “just shocked”), he’s so cute. plug and mangpong’s legs touching...and the wave of nostalgia that came over me (and oh-aew) during that ;;; oh-aew seeing their blossoming relationship would make him reminisce back to his own experience of falling in love with teh...when everything was still so fluttery and new. so when teh texts him about using his car to help jai move, he looks happy. like he wants to rekindle those feelings again too.

that being said, it’s kind of sad to me how even jai shows more interest in oh-aew’s major than teh (when he asks him for his opinion on how to get people interested in his play). oh-aew’s got some good ideas and is more than willing to help (esp since he wants to connect and find a common interest with teh again). also, just bc oh-aew doesn’t want to be an actor anymore doesn’t mean that he’s completely uninterested in it. god, watching this part again hurts bc oh-aew looks so happy and optimistic. he worked so hard to help teh (and jai) only for them to betray him like that. it made me mad originally, but now it just breaks my heart :(

jai’s running acting classes again for his play, and this time it’s a workshop to help them tap into their feelings. it’s like an intimacy exercise where they give one another consent to touch certain body parts. teh is still struggling a lot with this. i think teh craves intimacy, but as he doesn’t feel that connection in his personal life to oh-aew anymore, so it’s difficult for him to draw on his experiences. he can’t even remember the first time he had sex with oh-aew properly anymore. as usual, teh’s too in his own head to just go with the flow and ~feel things (which isn’t new since teh’s had problems with this since itsay), but it’s def something that he’ll need to learn how to do if he wants to become an actor. he’s trying, but the fact that he can’t get to that place makes him feel even more insecure than ever that he might never be able to get there. imo one of the reasons teh works so hard, and is as driven and ambitious as he is, is that he’s afraid that he’ll never be good enough. he puts so much pressure on himself, and the issue with that is that he’ll never be able to live up to his expectations that way.

teh is also very much alone now. oh-aew has his group of friends to talk to about his relationship with teh, but teh just has jai at this point. he’s pushed khim away...and he and oh-aew aren’t communicating effectively (which is also why they’re on SUCH different wavelengths in terms of where their relationship is at), so there’s literally only jai for him to talk to about all his relationship issues. and to me at least, jai seems to have ulterior motives (particularly when you consider that the subject matter of his play is pretty much the same thing that teh’s going through rn). it’s times like this when i do feel kind of bad for teh, but then again, he brought this upon himself the way that he almost always does...and it leaves me frustrated instead.

jai kissing his professor though...also their conversation?? i have QUESTIONS...

that whole interaction with teh when jai catches him spying on him and the professor was SO awkward. idk what it is about teh but i have never encountered a character that has given me as much secondhand embarrassment as he does. when he starts touching the bars and avoiding eye contact i just- why, teh why?????

moving on, i’m thinking there’s prob more to that scene that we don’t know about bc jai’s shifty like that...but it’s purpose is also to shift teh’s perception of jai. before this, he pretty much just saw jai as his friend and mentor, but seeing him kiss someone else pushes him to think of jai in another less platonic light. like the first spark of attraction.

the both of them go to see the mime show (babymime), and i know that the point of this is so teh can learn to just feel and let go the way that the mimes in this play do, but idk it’s just kind of funny to me the contrast between the last scene and this one. 

the leg touching scene again but this time with teh and jai...thanks, i hate it :/// 

teh’s already feeling like he and oh-aew’s interests are making them drift apart, so by connecting with jai, it’s that initial feeling of attraction that he used to feel with oh-aew all those years ago. jai is that cool senior that he respects...he’s goal-oriented and has so much in common with him (in a way that he feels that oh-aew doesn’t anymore), so it doesn’t altogether surprise me that teh latches onto jai in this way. esp when all their conversations revolve around what teh’s most passionate about, and what dreams they’re striving towards in the future.

it doesn’t surprise me bc teh’s affections shifted in a similar way from tarn to oh-aew when he was first starting to realise his feelings for oh-aew too (though at least he and tarn were never officially dating during that time...)

there’s a genuineness to the way teh praises and encourages jai that isn’t there when he’s doing the same to oh-aew :( and that coupled with teh lying to oh-aew about him having dinner with jai while oh-aew is at home, completely oblivious, painstakingly photoshopping his boyfriend’s face on the poster of the play TO HELP TEH instead of doing his own uni work, makes me so fucking upset for oh-aew.

it’s interesting to see how different their personalities are even when it comes to something as simple as the way they read their texts. oh-aew is so ready to accept whatever teh tells him at face value, but teh overthinks everything to the point where he jumps to a certain conclusion in his head about it instead.

but yeah, it’s just really tough to see oh-aew try so hard for teh, only to see teh do nothing back for oh-aew in return. there’s only so much one side can give. it’s the absolute lack of effort on teh’s part to even try to make things work with oh-aew that is the most frustrating thing of all. oh-aew is carrying their entire relationship rn and it makes me feel all “and for what?? why should he even bother??” about it.

sneaking to sit at the river with jai is like this forbidden, new experience, so it just enhances that feeling of attraction that teh is already feeling towards jai. and esp when he starts telling him about his previous relationship with james, the significance of the plum wine, and how jai ended up breaking up with him. since it’s reflective of teh’s own experiences atm (even in how he kind of self-sabotages himself to push people/oh-aew away first), he clearly takes it to heart. and it makes him want to do an even better job since the play is an autobiographical one for jai. not to mention, teh supposedly being the only one that jai told his story to makes him feel ‘special’......and we all know how teh likes feeling as though he’s special to someone. you can see it in how dejected he is when he thinks jai only told him his story bc he wanted him to get into character better, but perks up the moment jai says he actually told him bc teh’s been doing such a good job (and to encourage him). like i mentioned before, teh’s already feeling vulnerable and isolated from everybody else, so hearing any sort of praise (and esp when it’s from someone that he looks up to as much as jai), is going to pull him in.

when they were hiding from the security guard i was like ughhh i know where this is heading and i. don’t. like. it........

the problem is that i know where teh stands on this. like i know that there’s some attraction on his end. but i don’t know where jai stands. is he intentionally manipulating teh’s feelings for his play? is there any sincerity there? i think it’s obvious that he can tell teh is attracted to him from the glance that they share in this scene, but i can’t get a handle on what he actually wants (which i guess is the point of making his character as mysterious as it is but still). and if he can tell, and he doesn’t actually like teh back in that way, it makes the end scene even more yikes imo.

hmmm teh lying in the pool trying to recreate that feeling right before their first kiss when the both of them just let everything go and sank down into the water. that’s how you KNOW the next scene is supposed to be angsty...bc just like how their first underwater kiss had a sense of sadness to it bc they were hiding, their first (on screen) sex scene has that same sense of sadness, only this time it’s bc teh’s using his attraction to jai/his method actor desire to get into character to fuel the sex instead of bc he genuinely just wants to have sex with oh-aew. and if his reasoning for the sex is bc of that, then his task to recreate their first sexual experience will never live up to the actual first time they had sex (when they BOTH wanted it, and there were no other factors involved).

that’s not to say i don’t think teh doesn’t love oh-aew anymore. i think that there HAS to be some level of love still there amidst all of the confusion, but it feels a lot more like he’s testing his love/attraction to oh-aew during this scene (sort of like how he did with tarn in itsay) than a proper ‘love scene’. like he’s trying to reconfirm his feelings, whilst using oh-aew as inspiration for his role at the same time. it makes my heart ache that this is the first love scene we get from them this series, and it’s marred by the context of what we know is going on in teh’s head. like i said, it’s this permeating sadness throughout...and just knowing that oh-aew has absolutely NO IDEA what’s going on with teh and why he suddenly wants to have sex makes it worse. oh-aew’s been trying to make things work, and in his mind, teh spontaneously coming over like this prob makes him think that things are getting better between them since this is also the closest thing to teh showing any sort of initiative to work on their relationship in this ep so far...

and that’s not also taking away how beautifully this whole scene is shot. i’ve always loved the way that teh and oh-aew play and flirt with each other (bkpp’s chemistry is honestly unparalleled!!) so it was nice to see them be kind of playful before they started kissing again (if you ignore how sad this scene really is). i LOVE the inter-splicing between their first time on the beach and the present. the way the score swells, and little moments where you can see their feet and fingers interlocked on the beach. it gives you such a visceral visual (and totally takes me back to itsay days when that sort of imagery was used a lot more). i just hate that since we know the truth, this scene is more uncomfortable than satisfying despite how nicely shot it is.

i wish we got more domestic moments from them. i know their relationship has sort of grown past those initial moments of flirtation, but it truly makes me sad that we don’t get to see more of them as a couple in general in ipytm. moments like this where they’re lying in bed cuddling each other are so few and far between that i always feel like i have to cherish every little fleeting piece of fluff that i can get. even if idek if this can really be called fluff since the context sort of ruins it.

oh-aew’s still got his heart attack bag :’)))

he was soooooo happy when he met up with his friends 😭 but also, how the hell is it possible for teachers to move deadlines up like that. i FEEL that panic... poor oh-aew...

teh’s in rehearsals again and this time he’s wearing his moon shirt which...i do NOT need those ep 3 itsay vibes rn when i was already dreading this last ten minutes with everything i have in me :((( but anyway, jai’s brought plum wine to class and we know that teh doesn’t usually drink, but he does this time. he tells teh that the taste will change over time (it symbolises the ageing of the relationship process), and teh says it’s a pity he won’t get to taste it next time since jai wants to go abroad to study. then teh tells him he’s worked on the acting exercise and wants to try it out with jai, and i feel like we all knew where it was going to go from here.........

they really had to hammer it in with him missing oh-aew’s call too huh :/

as soon as they started the touching/intimacy exercise again i was just waiting for the catch. even on this rewatch i’m still sitting here chanting “don’t do it teh don’t do it” knowing full well that he kisses jai and there’s no changing that. but then when they cut to oh-aew walking up the stairs with the posters and you hear just how much time he’s sacrificed to help teh/jai on this...sacrificing time EVEN NOW just to go over to their uni to give them the posters when he has a presentation due tomorrow that he and his friends still haven’t finished working on...it’s just heartbreaking knowing what he’s going to end up walking in on.

whether it’s itsay or ipytm, teh’s default state is confusion. so while i think that there’s a certain amount of attraction towards jai there of course, i kind of get the feeling that he’s confusing his feelings of connection with jai (bc of their shared interests and passion) with him falling in love with jai. i feel like his attraction to jai reminds him of what it was like when he was first attracted to oh-aew, and since things have changed so much between him and oh-aew, it’s like he wants to recreate and capture that feeling again with jai (which is also why he wears the moon shirt...he wore that during itsay ep 3 beach scene, which was the moment when the attraction really started to burn between him and oh-aew). he can’t feel that same spark with oh-aew anymore, so he transfers his feelings to jai since, at this point in time, he feels closer to jai than anyone else. instead of growing alongside oh-aew, it’s like he’s choosing to revert back to a time when he was happier.

we know that teh has always been the type of person that will act on his impulses when he feels them. that’s WHY it was so hard to watch...bc i knew while watching that last scene, he was never going to restrain himself or put a stop to those feelings bleeding over into action. and esp not when it could benefit him in some way with his acting too.

in the end, it just makes me so devastated for oh-aew. and i really hope that he doesn’t let this go bc he thinks it’s just teh method acting or getting into character or whatever...i know that teh’s feeling a lot of conflicting things rn, but that’s not an excuse. he really fucked this one up.

the thing is, it’s not that i don’t think teh is capable of acting this way (i’ve seen a few people say that this is ooc for him, but it really isn’t? this confusion and impulsiveness has always been a part of his character from the very start...he was always the one that had the most trouble dealing with his feelings out of the two of them), but the time skips don’t do him any favours bc we lose all those moments that take him to what he’s currently feeling. when we don’t have those moments, then it’s a lot harder to sympathise with him. in itsay, bc we always knew how teh got from point a to point b, even if he did frustrating/silly things, i always understood where he was coming from. i always felt for him. i GOT his struggles, which was why i was always able to empathise with what he was going through. in ipytm, he just comes off as unlikeable bc of how superficial his feelings seem (from what we’re being shown on screen at least).

falling out of love with your significant other/starting to feel things for someone else is obv a fairly common experience, so i don’t blame teh for FEELING like this, but it’s how he treats oh-aew throughout this that doesn’t sit right with me. even if you feel like you’re falling out of love with someone, or that they’ve changed since the first time you fell in love with them, you’d think there’d be some motivation to at least TRY to make things work with them before giving up. we never see that from teh at all. instead, he just see him becoming infatuated with jai (so we barely see teh/oh-aew together in the first place). and while i can see now that a lot of this is due to his own insecurities and inadequacies, it’s also just so disrespectful to oh-aew who's the one that we see putting in all this time and effort (it calls back to their whole “don’t give my time to others” scene in itsay bc we see oh-aew giving so much of his time to teh through helping him out with his play, while teh’s giving that time that should be for oh-aew to jai now). no matter his reasoning, watching teh act that way towards oh-aew does make it increasingly hard to root for him. there’s just too big a disparity in how the two of them choose to act and devote their time to their relationship.

what’s frustrating is that in itsay, teh would fuck up but he would always try to make amends with oh-aew in some way. he would always come forward to try to sort things out after...but there’s nothing here. even after their dinner fight in ep 2, it’s OH-AEW that reaches out to him first (even though it’s teh’s fault that they fought in the first place). where’s that boy that dressed up in his old school uniform in order to talk to oh-aew at his school? or made a whole chinese idioms scrapbook for oh-aew? or gave up his uni admission for oh-aew? i understand that characters and motivations change (and he was obv hopped up on his first love with oh-aew at the time), but it’s just really, really sad to see teh keep messing up and not even try to meet oh-aew halfway with this. yes, you can fuck up, but there are only so many times you can keep fucking up before it starts to look more like a pattern of shitty behaviour than a few forgivable missteps.

another issue is that there’s been so much focus on teh and his flaws that a lot of the time oh-aew comes off as a side character to teh’s story. previously, i understood that since teh was grappling with his sexuality. it made sense that his journey was the primary focus of the plot and character development. but i always felt that there was more room to explore oh-aew’s story (and i thought that we would get a lot more of that in ipytm...esp after ep 1), but it just feels like we kind of skimmed past all of oh-aew’s growth and struggles adjusting to bangkok/uni life so we could turn the attention back to teh again. i just hate that we never get to see more of how oh-aew’s changed in teh’s eyes (other than the surface level things like his hair, new car and major), and that we never get to see more of oh-aew’s life when it’s not related to teh in general. i hope that we’ll get more of oh-aew in the last two eps, but i really don’t know what they’ll give us anymore.

at this point, i don’t even want them as endgame anymore given everything that’s happened in the recent ep. and it pains me so much to say that bc teh/oh-aew are so immensely important to me, but they’re just in such different places in life. and teh esp has so much more growing to do (i think i said this last week too? teh...). oh-aew deserves to be with someone that can see his worth as he is (that won’t cheat on him for one!!). i just want him to be with someone that can make him happy. what i wanted most for them out of this was for the two of them to grow to a better place (together and as individuals), and while i still want that for them as individuals, it’s hard for me to want them to be happy together anymore. at least for the time being.

i’m kind of at a loss for how they’re gonna work through this (and i genuinely want oh-aew to be able to explore his options too...particularly with someone that will actually treat him better than teh’s treating him atm). so at this point it’s kind of looking to me like a break up is inevitable? but i do think it’s necessary  for both of them rn. i feel so heartbroken about it though...like ipytm is actually making ME go through the breakup...breaking up with all my beloved itsay teh/oh-aew memories :((( anyway, i think a break up is also conveniently the best time to put a time skip tbh...so we’ll see if that does end up happening now in future eps.

this one took such a long time to write up bc i wrote like a quarter of this RIGHT after i finished watching the ep (so you can clearly tell which parts were me right after the ep, and which parts were me after i had some time to sit on what happened 😂), but i thought it was best to take a bit of a break. i didn’t rewatch it again until i calmed down a little and sorted out my thoughts some more (though i know this is still pretty messy). but yeah, i’m still very much interested in watching how they things are going to progress from here...but i can’t deny how sad i’ve been feeling after this.

[jd-loves-fiction]

could you write a soulmate au drabble with agent whiskey or din? thank you <3

🌙 i made the reader female i hope that's alright 🥺 but i really enjoyed this idea :)) also this is a genuinely interesting idea to me that I'd love to expand on if y'all are ever interested on a full one shot or something ❤️

[16:10] "You really ain't gonna make this easy, are you, sweetheart?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder, cowboy!" You shout back to the man currently shooting at you, clutching the arm one of his bullets managed to graze.

“Just give up, darling!” Agent Whiskey tries again to coax you out of your hiding spot and into his arms.

You don’t answer, instead running out of your hiding spot and hoping that he’s turned away from you. He’s not.

The moment his eyes catch your form running from one cover to another, Whiskey reaches for his lasso, remembering to keep in on the non-lethal setting, per his boss’ order to bring you in alive.

The rope catches your ankle, throwing you off your feet and into the snow covered grow. You immediately try to stand again, which makes Whiskey give out a frustrated groan before he sends you hurling towards a nearby tree, knocking you out instantly. He feels a strange, harsh tug at his heart as he watches your limp body hit the ground.

"I'm sorry, sugar, I know that's gotta hurt." Jack throws you over his shoulder more gently than he usually does to enemies. He can't find a reason for it though.

You wake up what you assume is a few hours later, aching all over and groaning at the excessive amount of lights in your face.

You attempt to move your arms, only to find that they're tied to the chair you're sitting on.

You assume you're about to be interrogated, but the room you sit in would make you think otherwise in a different context.

The room is completely white, all the walls and the ceiling, even the floor. A large reflective window stares back at you. Or at least you think it's a window, could just be a big mirror. There's also a table with a chair in front of you and maybe if you try to knock it over you could-

The door opens and in steps the man who had chased you. You can see it even without turning your head, not wanting to show him how lost you are. But you do feel the need to scoff, purely due to the situation, and not due to something in you, as your heart feels weirdly tight in the man's presence.

He walks slowly towards the vacant chair in front of you, boots clicking against what you assume is something like concrete. You keep your head lowered as he sits, legs spread while he has an arm on top of the chair, clearly meaning to establish some sort of superiority, but you won't have it. This is what you excel at.

The agent looks you over for a moment before taking off his hat and placing it on the table behind himself, exposing his curly brown hair that looks way too soft and his eyes bore into you with such intensity despite they're apparent softness-

"Are you comfortable?"

The question throws you off completely. What the hell?

You glare at the man after getting over your initial shock, figuring out that he's serious.

"Can I get you any--"

"Can you just get to the point?"

Whiskey blinks at your bluntness for a moment, before shaking his head. He looks back at you, meeting the fire in your eyes with the curiosity of his. Your fire wavers at the dept before you.

"Just tryin' to be polite, darling. I'm a gentleman, you see." The way he nods his head as he speaks let's you know he would've been tipping his hat in that moment if he hadn't taken it off.

"A gentleman, huh?" Your voice drips with mischievous intent at first, then with poison as you grow bitter while your back and head keep pounding as a reminder of how you got your ass handed to you. "Not very gentlemanly to hit a woman, is it?"

The unnamed agent leans back, seemingly to get away from the hostility you exude.

"I really am sorry, sugar. I do feel bad for it." Why though?

"But how about we start this again?" He offers amicably before you can comment on the absurdity of an agent being regretful of hitting their target. Woman or otherwise.

"You can call me Agent Whiskey. What can I call you, sweetheart?"

"Cola." The man is once again surprised, but also interested, by your answer. But he nods.

"Alright, Cola, who do you work for?" Jack doesn't expect a straight answer, it just doesn't happen. But you seem determined to surprise him.

"A woman named Poppy. That's all I know, it's all I've been told." You have to admit, that expression does look good on him. The wide eyes, raised brows, slightly parted lips.

"How is that all you know?" Jack swallows thickly as you adjust your position, leg brushing his and lighting a fire beneath his skin that he'd felt before when carrying you back to headquarters. Are you just always hot or-

That question answers itself, he thinks.

"Listen here, Agent," Your voice is silky smooth as you lower your volume, hoping to appear mellow and helpless. You know his type of guy and how they work. You also decide to pointedly ignore the stutter of your heart and the sudden heat on your cheeks at his close proximity when he moves, as expected, closer. "I don't work as one of her goons, or something. I'm a mercenary and I work for myself. So, yeah, that's all I know about my employer."

Regret settled on the pit of your stomach at your own callous tone. What are all these emotions, that feel yours but also distant, disconnected.

"Can you let me go now? I have work to do."

Agent Whiskey leans back once more, crossing his arms and sighing. This was much easier than he had pictured, given how hard you fought back when he attempted to capture you.

But he still needs to get some more answers out of you.

"Let's make a deal, shall we?"

"And why would I do that?" You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation.

"You wanna get out of here, right sugar?" He offers, lip curling just slightly into what looks like a cocky smile to you. Your blood still sings at the sight of it. "Plus, we can trade secrets."

Your brows furrow. What secrets could he possibly have that would interest you? Perhaps something negative about Poppy to try and get you to change sides.

"If it's about Poppy, save your breath. Whatever it is, I already know."

"Not quite." Jack comments, southern drawl dripping like honey before he moves his chair closer. You get distracted by his sweet voice before the scrapping of the metal chair breaks you out of your haze and you lean back and away from him. He seems apprehensive because of this, lowering the hand that had reached out to you.

"You ever wonder about that little symbol on your arm?"

You look down at the limb he points at, your upper arm, wrapped in a bandage which is stained red. "You mean the one you shot?"

"I already told you I'm-"

"Doesn't change shit. What are you implying?"

"It's unfinished, isn't it?"

"Why do you say that? Could just be a choice I made." You instantly turn defensive at what you interpret as a know-it-all tone. How can he be so sure he knows literally anything about you?

The irony of the fact that you feel as if you know everything about him, despite truthfully knowing nothing at all, isn't lost on you.

Jack begins shedding his dark blue suit jacket, placing it on the table behind him. He then starts rolling up his sleeve on the same arm as the one of yours he shot. You would've blushed if you weren't so interested in what he has to say.

A dark symbol is revealed on his tan skin, just as seemingly incomplete as yours. The ink shifts slightly, like moving mist, as the agent shuffles closer.

It looks almost like a still wet, watercolor painting. And you know that, on your arm, there's an identical symbol.

But you still motion for Whiskey to at least untie your one arm. He unties both, upon seeing that you had no intention of hitting him, at the moment. Your legs are still tied but that's not what you want to focus on.

You look at the dark ink on your arm, just below the bandage. It's bigger, larger than it's ever been before. And it matches his.

You slowly raise your arm, watching as he does the same. As you do, the symbols complete themselves just as slowly.

Until your palms meet his warm and rough ones and you're sure the images look whole now, but all you can look to is his deep brown eyes.

You feel the pull from before, tugging at your heartstrings and burning up your blood like dynamite, slowly waiting to explode in an outburst of affection you wish to avoid.

Slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wild animal, Jack intertwines his fingers with yours, squeezing in reassurance.

Poppy will be left waiting for your return for a long while.

[geralehane]

in any world you find me (and i you) 

Lexa groans and struggles to sit up, rapidly blinking as she slowly comes to it. A quick mental check up lets her know nothing is broken – at least, nothing vital. She groans again as she rolls her head back and forth, gingerly, and reaches to unfasten her seatbelt with numb fingers.

Clarke, she thinks and barely stops herself from springing to her feet. She’ll be no use if she hurts herself. Slowly standing up, she makes her way to her co-pilot, and almost collapses with relief when she sees her chest rise up and down. Alive. She’s alive.

or, Lexa and Clarke meet their doppelgängers because multiverse. that's it, that's the fic.

READ ON AO3

patreon | ko-fi

Lexa groans and struggles to sit up, rapidly blinking as she slowly comes to it. A quick mental check up lets her know nothing is broken – at least, nothing vital. She groans again as she rolls her head back and forth, gingerly, and reaches to unfasten her seatbelt with numb fingers.

Clarke, she thinks and barely stops herself from springing to her feet. She’ll be no use if she hurts herself. Slowly standing up, she makes her way to her co-pilot, and almost collapses with relief when she sees her chest rise up and down. Alive. She’s alive.

She brushes Clarke’s blonde hair away from her face, selfishly allowing herself several precious seconds of quiet adoration before gently shaking her shoulder. She grins when Clarke lets out a groan similar to hers as she wakes up, long lashes fluttering before revealing hazy blue eyes.

“Lexa,” she rasps, confused. Then, her eyes widen as she remembers the crash. “Oh fuck. Are you okay?”

Lexa silently orders her heart to calm down. Of course Clarke would be worried about her friend. “Yes. I’m fine. Are you?”

Clarke nods. “I think so. What the fuck was that?”

“Orion? Orion, are you there?” Raven’s voice crackles through the radio, and Lexa coughs before telling the spacecraft’s system to connect.

“Jester is on,” the depersonalized voice of the ship lets her know, and Lexa coughs again before speaking.

“Hey, Raven,” she croaks out, foregoing formal speak. It’s not like they need it in the first place. They are essentially space pirates, for Christ’s sake. “We’re here.”

“Jesus fuck, Lexa,” her friend breathes out on the other end, sounding half-relieved and half-furious. “What happened to you guys? You went off radar. I was ready to jump after you but--”

“Which would have been a suicide,” Lexa points out. She sighs as she slowly stands up and looks around. The ship didn’t get too banged up on the inside. No visible cracks as far she can see, but she needs a thorough examination before she can come to any conclusion. “We encountered a -- vortex, of sorts. Got sucked in. I don’t know where we are right now. Probably landed on a nearby planet.”

“You’re not hearing me,” Raven says, sounding increasingly irritated. And worried. “You went off radar. As in, I don’t see you anywhere in the Universe. I was ready to jump after you before it happened. Now, even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to find you.”  

“Uh.” Lexa blinks. “What?”

“Rae,” Clarke’s standing up, now, too, and her eyes are as wide as Lexa’s. “Are you trying to tell us we’re – what? In another Universe?”

“I built the map myself,” Raven says, sounding unusually solemn. “You know what it runs on. The Eye doesn’t lie and doesn’t make mistakes.” She lets out a slow, disbelieving breath. “And it doesn’t see you now.”

Lexa and Clarke exchange an alarmed glance. “But that’s impossible,” Lexa says. It’s more to convince herself than to counter Raven’s argument. The Life Crystal that they stole for Raven several years ago that she dubbed The Eye isn’t called that for nothing. It can detect any form of life in any corner of the Universe, cyborgs included. Or, apparently, almost any corner of the Universe.

“Maybe the planet we’re on has some sort of magnetic shield that doesn’t let The Eye see us,” Lexa proposes as her mind quickly works out any possible solution to this.

“Well, it might, but if it does, there’s a high chance it might be poisonous to you guys,” Raven points out. “Wherever you are, though… I’m so fucking happy you’re alive,” her voice cracks with emotion she’s clearly trying to suppress. “For a second, I thought…”

“We’re fine,” Lexa says, softly. “We’re not on your plane of existence, apparently, but we’re fine.” She moved her jaw from side to side, thinking. “I’m surprised you got through. So the signal reaches us, but not The Eye?”

“That’s not even Twilight zone level of fuckery,” Raven confirms. “I have no idea how that’s possible.”

“I propose we explore where we are,” Clarke pipes up. She’s rubbing her forehead, and Lexa tries to ignore the sharp pang of concern in her chest. They’ll deal with this a little later. “Let’s send JD outside to get the air sample.”

“Probably the best thing you can do,” Raven tells them. “I’ll try to figure something out on my end. We’re working on getting you back, guys. Just sit tight.”

“Not much else to do,” Lexa snorts to herself. Still, she appreciates Raven’s enthusiasm and her willingness to help. “We’re gonna get JD ready and survey any possible damages to the ship. Keep you posted.”

“Alright. Talk to you soon.” With that, Raven disconnects, and they are left staring at each other in what promises to soon become very awkward silence.

“Alright, well, I’ll go--”

“I’m sorry I kissed you.” Clarke’s eyes widen after she blurts that out, cutting Lexa off and causing her to splutter with surprised embarrassment. She wasn’t sure they’d ever bring it up. It was – a sour of the moment thing, or so she’s told herself. They were full of adrenaline, being chased by the Feds, fired at left and right. It honestly felt more like an act of desperation. Something to feel even more alive and revved up. Clarke’s bright eyes met hers, and next thing she knew, their mouths crashed together before Clarke pushed her in her chair and jumped into hers, buckling up and flipping the lightspeed switch.  

Lexa frowns. Lightspeed. They travelled at lightspeed without giving the ship clear directions, and it took them to the vortex – and now they are here. That is a vital piece of information that they definitely should have disclosed to Raven.

And they will once she gets her mouth to work and replies to an expectant Clarke. “Uh.” So far, so good. “Why?” Clarke begins to frown, and she hurries to correct herself. “I mean – I’m not sorry you did.”

“Oh.” Clarke’s voice is small, unsure. “But – you’re the Commander. And I’m – me.”

Lexa gives her a muted smile. “Are you worried about violating the Code of Conduct? Because last time I checked we didn’t have any. Since, you know. We’re intergalactic criminals and stuff.”

“I was thinking more of Robin Hood and his Merry Men kind of thing,” Clarke says. A tentative smile blooms on her lips, and Lexa wants nothing more than to kiss it until it grows and spills into laughter. Maybe she’ll actually get to do that. “It’s not about any Code. I just – I kind of ambushed you without checking if you’re okay with it.”

“Tell you what,” she says, grinning. “You can ambush me any time you want. Because truth be told, I’ve wanted to do the same pretty much ever since we’ve met, but I, too, was worried about… ambushing.”

“Oh. Oh-kay,” Clarke nods to herself, like an diligent student. “Ambushing is on the table. Good to know.”

“Yeah. And -- oof!” She’s noticed that sometimes Clarke is too quick to act on things. Right now, however, she doesn’t mind.

When they break apart, it’s slow, with neither willing to let go just yet. “Duty calls,” Clarke whispers, regret coloring her voice. Lexa chuckles.

“That, and I really wanna get out of here so we can do this more.”

Clarke’s beautiful when she blushes, she decides.

***

JD, their rusty but trusty robot that’s especially beloved by Raven due to being one of her first successful projects, beeps readily when Lexa finishes programming him to get the air and ground sample. He whirs as he turns around himself and wheels into the small hallway. Lexa waits till he gets in there and shuts the door, ensuring the ship’s sealed and foreign air won’t get in. Then, she pulls the lever to open the external hatch. Most of the things around the ship have to be done manually, but that’s what she loves about it. She specifically didn’t let Raven tinker with the system, only allowing her to install the navigation. Everything else, she can manage just fine.

They split up and quickly check the ship for any damages while JD is at work. Aside from a few dents, it’s not too bad. Yet, the attempt to take off fails.

“Must be something outside,” Clarke notes apprehensively. “I hope it’s not the engines.”

“What else could it be?” Lexa states more than asks. Clarke shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re just stuck.” She shrugs again when Lexa throws her a look. “What? Just trying to keep the morale up.”

“I appreciate your efforts,” Lexa deadpans, but that doesn’t work, because Clarke only grins and pecks her lips. If that’s how it’s gonna be from now on, well – she’s at peace with that.

JD comes back in twenty minutes and brings a curious discovery with him. Apparently, the atmosphere outside is identical to that of the Earth. Clarke and Lexa glance at each other, bewildered.

“That’s next to impossible,” Lexa voices what they’re both thinking. Her co-pilot hums, thoughtful.

“But not impossible,” she points out. “Congratulations, babe – we might be the living proof of string theory.”

She can’t resist. “Babe?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow. Clarke scoffs, failing to hide her blush.

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” she teases.

“Not the time, but maybe later,” Clarke fires right back, a lopsided grin playing on her lips. “Also I can’t believe you’re flirting with me when we’re standing on the verge of the most important scientific discovery.”

“Do you really think we’re in a parallel universe?”

She watches as Clarke bites her lip, clearly excited. “What else could this be?”

“Well,” she stands taller and straightens her leather jacket, feeling determined. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

***

They jump out of the ship, blasters ready. Lexa inhales the air, frowning. “Smells like spring,” she says quietly, and Clarke hums in silent, astonished agreement.

She doesn’t know what she expects to see once they climb out, but that’s not it. The scenery is rather dull. It reminds her of those old sci-fi movies from the last century. And of the Grand Canyon from the inside. Sand and rocks and occasional shallow caves.

It’s the caves that have her worried. She immediately recalls everything she knows about space parasites, and shudders at the thought of contacting one. They are definitely not going in there. They’re not going anywhere, period. Lexa decides then and there that they’ll check the ship, fix whatever it is that doesn’t let them take off, and get the hell out of here.

Clarke, however, clearly has other plans. “Lex,” she whispers urgently, nudging her with her surprisingly sharp elbow. “There’s someone in there. Looks human.” And points at one of the caves when Lexa glances at her.

Fantastic. She sghs and comes to stand in front of Clarke, looking her in the eyes. “You’re probably imagining things,” she tells her calmly. “We’re worked up, it makes sense. Let’s fix out ship and go home.”

But, as it often happens, Clarke doesn’t listen. “There!” she quietly exclaims, looking over Lexa’s shoulder. “It’s a girl. A human girl. What if she needs help? What if she’s hurt?”

“We don’t help, Clarke,” Lexa says lowly. She tries her hardest not to sound threatening,, but she’s not sure she succeeds.

Blue eyes meet hers, defiant. “Except you helped each and every one of us,” she says, almost accusingly. “If it weren’t for you, half the crew would be dead in a drug den on the outskirts of the Leo Cluster.” She pauses, gauging Lexa’s reaction, and nods, clearly satisfied with what she sees. “She could be in danger. Maybe she got here the same way we did.”

“Escaping the Feds?” Lexa snorts. “All the more reason to stay away from her.”

“Fine.” Clarke raises her chin, and Lexa groans inwardly, because she knows what’s coming. “Stay here and fix the ship. I’ll go to her.”

“Yeah, I will allow that to happen,” Lexa deadpans, and tightens her grip on her blaster. “Stay close to me and don’t hesitate to shoot. Remember shapeshifters from CG18?”

Clarke shudders involuntary. “Roger that. A kid tries to bite my hand off, I shoot.”

“Good.”

***

Not only Clarke doesn’t shoot – she doesn’t let Lexa do that, either. Granted, there are no bloodthirsty children involved this time, but this can’t be normal. Lexa’s more than convinced those are closely related to CG18 bastards. Have to be same species. Because how else would she explain meeting their doppelgangers?

“Lexa, wait!” Clarke cries out, grabbing her hand with the blaster just as another Clarke dives at another Lexa, shielding her from them.

“What the fuck,” she sighs, annoyed. “I thought we had a deal.”

“Shooting ourselves wasn’t the deal,” Clarke states indignantly.

“Are you hearing yourse—they are not us!”

“Lexa,” Clarke slowly, loudly breathes out through her nose. She’s more than willing to bet that she’s counting to five in her head. “We’re operating under the assumption that we ended up in a parallel universe. Which, if it’s true, means that there are parallel versions of us.”

“We’re not from here,” Clarke – another Clarke – pipes up, then. She looks as close to fainting as Lexa feels, and her blue eyes, so familiar yet foreign, are wide with astonishment as she looks between them. “We have no idea how we ended up here, or what here even is.” She gulps as her gaze falls down to the blaster in Lexa’s hand. “Look, we’re totally harmless. I’m still in high school, I mean – come on,” she chuckles nervously. Lexa – the other Lexa – blinks at her before glancing at them.

“Yeah,” she says. “Um – could we stand up?”

Her Clarke gives her a look that’s both begging and warning, and she sighs, lowering the blaster. “Fine. Get up. Slowly.” The others nod and hastily scramble to their feet. Now that she has the chance to really look at them, she notes how young they are. They can’t be older than eighteen. Her gaze stays on the other Lexa a bit longer.

She definitely wasn’t this scrawny when she was eighteen.

The other Clarke is probably thinking the same thing, because right now she’s looking between her and the Lexa she came with, and her eyes are sparkling with curiosity and, dare she say, appraisal.

Her Clarke sighs. “Cut it out,” she tells her younger copy. “Focus. How did you get here?”

“We don’t know,” the other Lexa speaks up. She finishes methodically dusting herself off and fixes her buttoned up shirt. Lexa rolls her eyes when she notices her Clarke’s gaze soften. Now who needs to focus? “We were in my room, and then there was this swirly thing--”

“A vortex,” the Other Clarke helpfully supplies, making the Other Lexa sigh.

“Whatever. Point is, we got sucked in and now we’re here.”

“Well, what were you doing before the vortex appeared?”

Both the Other Clarke and the Other Lexa blush, and Lexa thinks she has a hunch. “Pretty sure there were tongues involved,” she murmurs to her Clarke, turning to her and lowering her voice. “Also pretty sure they’re not gonna tell you about it.”

“We were -- studying,” the Other Clarke says meekly. Lexa sighs as she feels a headache approaching.

“I’m still not convinced you’re not some type of space parasites,” she tells them warningly.

“I swear we’re not,” the Other Clarke says. “So, is this like – Mars, or something? Are you guys astronauts?”

Lexa lets out a dark chuckle. “Do I look like astronaut?”

“Not really, no.”

It’s during that awkward lull in the conversation that a blinding flash of light sends them scattering for cover. Lexa grabs the Others and shoves them behind her as she points her blaster forward, discouraged because she can’t exactly see what she should be pointing it at.

Just as quickly as it appeared, however, the light disappears with a loud clap. In its wake, two bodies are left rolling on the floor, familiar groans making Lexa sigh. She’s the first to stand up and slowly approach the newcomers.

“Let me guess,” she says, offering her hand to a new Clarke and helping her up before doing the same with the new Lexa. “You got sucked in a vortex.”

“Yeah,” the New Clarke says, awed. “And I did not expect to end up in Heaven.” Her bright gaze dims somewhat when she looks around and sees the other versions of herself next to different versions of Lexa. “Oh,” she says, sounding mildly disappointed. “Okay. I can work with that.”

“I wish I didn’t know what you’re thinking about,” Lexa tells her sincerely before glancing at the New Lexa. She’s older than the Other, much closer to her own age, and much more confident, too, as she meets her gaze with her own steely one. She takes an extra second to appreciate the dark blue suit. Raven would probably make fun of her for a month if she ever wore something like that, but damn if it didn’t look good.

She doesn’t even flinch when the light flashes again.

***

All in all, they end up with three pairs of the copies, excluding themselves. Lexa doesn’t quite know what else to call them, but she’s wise enough to keep that to herself. She’s still not convinced this isn’t a parasite playing tricks on their minds.

“This is probably mass psychosis, or something,” Kid Lexa mumbles to Kid Clarke, whose eyes flash with fear. “I don’t think we’re even here, physically. It’s one big hallucination.”

Lexa hates to admit that she’s a little hurt by that. No one’s ever called her a hallucination before.

“I feel pretty real,” Corporate Clarke – Lexa’s not proud of the nickname, but it seems the most fitting considering her and her Lexa’s outfits – says, frowning. “Can’t say the same about all of this.” Her eyes meet Lexa’s, and she hurries to avert her gaze, blushing. Lexa guesses she was still dazed from the vortex experience when she unabashedly flirted with her earlier. She sighs.

“Maybe you know what’s going on?” She addresses Lexa the Scientist, and immediately cringes at the name. Sounds like a cartoon character. But, given the situation they’ve found themselves in, maybe they are all exactly that. This is too surreal to be a part of real life.

Scientist Lexa nervously straightens her glasses, and Lexa barely refrains from grimacing at that. She does not do nervous. “Well -- if we don’t settle for the mass psychosis theory…” Kid Lexa perks up at that, but Lexa shakes her head, and she deflates. “Um, we could be at the intersection of several parallel universes. The vortex is a portal of sorts.”

“Really helpful,” Lexa scoffs.

Clarke places a hand on her arm, giving her a pointed look. “Be nice,” she warns softly.

“I have to remember that,” Corporate Clarke murmurs. Her Lexa shoots her a quick smirk in spite of her tense posture. She clears her throat, then, gathering everyone’s attention.

(Lexa can’t help but be amused by Kid Clarke’s blush whenever she glances Corporate Lexa’s way. She really needs to find herself a suit, if only to test a theory.)

“While I am, no doubt, as interested in the inner workings of the Universe as all of you,” she says, calmly, “I am more interested in getting back to my universe first. Any ideas how we can make that happen?”

Lexa inwardly groans. She can’t believe that in some universe, she’s the type of a person they rob and make fun of on a regular basis. She’s never been more thankful for Reyes’s absence, because that’s not something she would’ve ever lived down.

She quickly considers renaming Corporate Lexa to Rich Jerk Lexa, but ultimately decides against it. That’s the level of self-hatred she hasn’t mastered. “Would we be standing here with you if we had any?” she settles on replying. Corporate Lexa’s green eyes narrow at that. It’s barely noticeable to any outside observer, but she knows herself, and she knows she’s irritated.

“We will employ your services if the answer turns out to be brute force,” she lets her know. Lexa sighs, mildly disappointed. That was way too obvious. Not on the level she’s expected.

“Yeah, I’m the muscle, what a low blow,” she deadpans. “Luckily, we do have the brain.”

Everyone, aside from Corporate Lexa who’s eyeing her now, turns their expectant gazes to Scientist Lexa. She swallows. “Well, uh – I don’t really know how to get back to our respective universes. But I also d-don’t really think we need to do anything in order to go back.”

Lexa quietly implodes when she doesn’t continue. “Oh, my God, can you just tell us why?”

“Hey, chill out,” Kid Clarke demands and she suppresses the urge to throw her hands up in air and walk away. But because it’s Clarke – young, bratty version of her, but still her – she doesn’t.

And because it’s Lexa she’s just snapped at, her Clarke throws her a disapproving look, leaving her feeling both warm and frustrated. She’s ready for all of this to be over.

“She can speak for herself,” Scientist Clarke speaks up, then, giving Kid Clarke a dirty look. “But also – you do need to chill,” she tells Lexa next.

Lexa only shakes her head.” Are you seriously jealous of yourself?”

“Well, aren’t you?” Corporate Lexa chooses this moment to snidely ask, and Lexa thinks about her Clarke trying not to look too much in her direction and grinds her teeth together.

“How do we send your asses back.” She states, trying not to glare at Scientist Lexa, whose adorable fiddling with glasses and the sleeves of her cardigan must’ve awoke the soft side of all Clarkes, because they all collectively frown at her harsh tone.

Maybe she can convince her Clarke this is the space parasite after all, when she’s done killing them.

“Well,” Scientist Lexa starts, increasingly more nervous, “I don’t know if it’s the same in all of the universes, but in ours, there’s been a discovery recently. We proved the string theory.”

“What do you mean we?” Lexa demands. There’s a coiling deep in her stomach that she does not like. At all.

“Um,” Scientist Lexa glances at her Clarke, who hugs herself. “We as in her and I.”

Lexa can practically hear the thoughts flashing through Corporate Lexa’s head. Mainly because she’s having those same ones as well. “Tell me,” she murmurs as she slowly stalks to Scientist Lexa, “that this isn’t a part of your research paper.”

“No, oh, no!” Scientist Lexa shakes her head, eyes wide with fear. “I had nothing to do with this. I just – have a hunch about the reason we’re here. Like I said, we’re at the intersection of the universes. It could be that the universes summon an identical part of themselves here in order to continue functioning. It could be something as trivial as stones, or something as… not trivial as people.”

“Why would they need to do that?” Kid Lexa asks, confused. Lexa can’t blame her.

Scientist Clarke shakes her head. “You don’t want to get into that. Especially since, if we’re right, we will all go back to our own universes any second now.”

“Our memories will probably fade, too,” her Lexa points out. “So write everything down now if you want to remember any of this.”

“I’d rather not,” Lexa quips, making each Clarke chuckle. Well. She’ll miss that, at least.

“If anyone ever wanted to make out with themselves, now’s the time, just saying,” Kid Clarke jokes. Or – Lexa’s not entirely sure she was just joking. Kid Lexa immediately blushes. Lexa only sighs with sympathy. She remembers those teenage hormones all too well.

“Alright,” she says loudly, interrupting the sudden chatter. “This has been bizarre. Nice meeting you. We should go,” she tells Clarke, who gives her a dumbfounded stare.

“We’re not going to see them off?”

“Why can’t they see us off first?” Lexa tries to argue. When Clarke doesn’t budge, she sighs. “Look, I’d rather be on our ship when we get thrown back. What if we end up back where we started, and not on our home planet?”

“Oh,” Scientist Lexa speaks up, concerned. “You will absolutely go back to the point where you got picked up. So if that was somewhere in space, I’d at least consider wearing a spacesuit.” That little shit, Lexa thinks with sudden, adoring amusement. Which feels weird, since it’s essentially herself she’s thinking about, so this is basically emotional masturbation.

She shakes her head. “Right. Thanks.” Clarke’s hesitant gaze meets her own determined one. “We gotta get back to the ship. You heard them. We could get sucked in any second now.”

“Okay,” Clarke relents, then. She throws one last look at the group of their doppelgangers, who watch them with a mix of awe and sadness Lexa’s not ready to admit she’s feeling as well. “Um. Good luck with -- everything. Have great lives, guys.”

“You, too!” Kid Clarke beams, waving. “Can I just say – I love how everyone’s ignoring the fact that we end up together in every universe.”

“Fate is a pretty heavy burden,” she hears Scientist Lexa quietly reply before she ushers Clarke away, and they jog to their ship.

Once they climb inside, no one speaks for several seconds. JD beeps at their arrival, and the system lets them know Raven’s tried to contact them twice – Lexa immediately feels bad, because their friend is probably worried sick. “Oh, damn,” she says, then, disappointed. “We didn’t ask them if they knew Raven.”

“I hope they do,” Clarke says, chuckling. “We didn’t ask a lot of things, you know.”

“I was a little busy trying to make sure we made it out alive,” Lexa points out. She feels a little silly for pouting, but now that they are back to the safety of their ship and their survival isn’t at stake anymore, her curiosity decides to wake up and drive her up the wall. How long have all of them been together? Are any of them married or about to get married? Do they live together? When did they meet? She sighs, shaking her head in defeat. Some questions just aren’t meant to have answers. But those could’ve if it weren’t for her constant worrying and—

“Stop,” Clarke demands, jostling her out of her musings. “I can see you beating yourself up. Stop. You went with your gut and focused on the important thing. Surviving. If it did turn out to be the parasite or a violent shapeshifter, you would’ve been prepared, unlike me. That’s why you’re the Commander. That’s why…” she trails off, then, and Lexa admires the pretty pink dusted across her cheekbones.

She swallows and reaches out, gently brushing Clarke’s hair behind her air. “Fate really is a heavy burden, isn’t it?” she says softly. Clarke’s lips curl in a small smile under her thumb.

“Not when it’s shared,” she whispers. Her lips taste like dust and warmth and spring, and Lexa happily allows herself to disappear in it, if only for a mere moment.

“Lexa,” Raven’s urgent voice makes them break apart, but they do so slowly, savoring each other’s taste. “Please tell me you’re there.”

She doesn’t look away from Clarke’s sparkling eyes as she replies. “Rae. We’re here, we just got back. Will tell you everything once we get out of here.”

“Not to crush your hopes and dreams, but you sound mighty confident that you will get out of there,” Raven jokes darkly. “As in, I have no fucking idea how to reach you. I still don’t know where you are.”

Lexa lifts the blinds up, and sure enough, the vortex is there, right in front of them, and getting closer by the second. She smirks. “Doesn’t matter. See you soon, Reyes.”

“I hope you haven’t gone insane,” Raven says cautiously, and they laugh.

“We’re of sound mind,” Clarke reassures her. “And we’ll leave the same way we ended up here – through a vortex.”

“A vortex? What the fuck?”

“Exactly. Don’t worry, it’s harmless.” Lexa blinks as she realizes that they probably won’t remember any of this once they are back to their universe. She looks up to find Clarke’s eyes, and reads the same thought in them.

“Mute us.” The system complies, and Raven’s line goes dead for the time being. “Should we tell her?”

Clarke shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says honestly. The vortex is almost there. “We could. But what would it change? We’re space pirates. No one actually able to do something with our discovery will believe us.”

“Right.” She squeezes her hand as they stare into the swirling void before them. “If we remember – we tell her. If we don’t…”

“…then we live,” Clarke concludes for her. In her blue eyes, Lexa sees all the universes they’ve lived in. “Then, we live.”

She thinks she can work with that. And then, they disappear.

[thejamesoldier]

A Single Frayed Rope

AO3 Link

Chapter 3

A/N: sorry for such a long gap between uploads, i’ve made this chapter extra long as an apology! with the pandemic and having to figure out a stable financial situation, its been super rough for me, but coming back to write this fic made me feel good for the first time in a long time :) I hope you enjoy!! xx

Chapter 4 - Horseshoe Overlook II

First order of business is to wash.

You've never been so soiled in your entire life, and you're pretty sure your stench could be picked up at least a mile off if the burn in your own nose whenever you take a breath is anything to go by. There are a million things you want to focus on besides bathing -- like finally getting some decent fucking hours of rest, but you work to pace yourself and not give in to the scattered anarchy your brain keeps descending into whenever you let it go blank for too long. Breaking off small pieces of a larger horror is the only way you're keeping yourself sane at the moment. The previous hold you had on your impulses is frayed down to nothing now that the ropes are gone and you have the freedom to do things as simple as itch your nose. It makes you twitchy, off-kilter in a way that sometimes yanks you out of your own mind. It's like pushing with all your might against a wall of stone that suddenly turns to air. It's a reaction you weren't expecting, and its exhausting.

One of the girls -- or women you should say, volunteers to take you down to a river near by to wash. Freckles. Pinned curls. Kind. Mary-Beth, your memory supplies as she leads you to a secluded spot away from what she warned was a more heavily traversed part of the bank.

You say nothing on the hike down the hill the gang has mounted itself atop of, though Mary-Beth doesn't attempt much conservation. Arthur, who at first had out right refused to let Mary-Beth go anywhere unescorted with a 'wild crazy woman', eventually relented after receiving a firm but undecipherable look from Hosea. It was an effort on your part to care even a little, all you wanted was to fucking clean yourself, rebuffing the disrespect of a man who had no high-horse to give any sort of morality speeches from was the least of your concerns.

"Watch your step here, the ground's a little loose," Mary-Beth warns as she lifts the front of her dress up a respectable amount in order to see where to place her feet.

Again you say nothing, only follow her example and lift the filthy hem of your own skirt and try to walk in her footprints across the patch of mud. You hug your change of clothes tighter to your side (those of which were donated by Mary-Beth this time) with your other hand as you both slowly make your way out of the slippery vat, and onto a shore of grey pebbles. Thick green growth encases you two in a private alcove where the river branches off in a tame half-circle detour before rejoining its main body down stream. The sound of the bubbling water, birds chirping in the canopy above you, and the sun splintering through gossamer emerald leaves would have made you smile in any other circumstance. Nature this untouched is rare and beautiful yet you can't find it in yourself to care, there is no room in you to feel joy right now. It's all instinct and survival, you feel so...rabid. Maybe feral is a better word for it. You simply don't feel all that in control of yourself, like if something unexpected were to happen, you'd react like a wild animal -- fight or flight and nothing inbetween.

In all honesty you feel a bit crazy. There is this buzz in your brain that peaks when you're nervous but never quite dies back down when you're not, it only returns to this constant unnerving hum that's begun to reveal itself as an opposing force to your effort towards a clear present mind.

"Um, Miss?"

It underlies everything you do, like you're getting constant shots of adrenaline every minute. This excess energy burns like poison in your veins and you know it'll sicken you eventually, but even if you wanted it to stop, you wouldn't know how to turn it off.

"Miss? Are, are you okay?"

It's a sign you're spiraling but hell if you have any mental space to pick at that particular ball of yarn on top of everything else. And holy fucking hell I time traveled --

"Y/n?" Mary-Beth's voice echoes a little over the noise of your turmoil, and you find yourself unsure if you turned to face her too fast or too slow as your vision swims.

Time violently warps then and you're grasp on sanity in turn takes a sharp slip -- the world is suddenly tipping itself upside down and you're falling, falling, falling...

You try to remember how to breathe because suddenly you can't.

"Wait," The word wheezes itself from your lungs as your mouth opens and closes in attempt to slog air down your throat, "Wait,"

Mary-Beth pales and you know you're scaring her, and if you could you would try to reassure her that you're fine but you honestly can't remember how to speak --

"Wait!"

-- so you continue to stand there and shake, repeating a sound that tastes like a word but you're not sure --

"Wait! Wait!"

Mary-Beth stands there another beat before making a run for it. She sprints by you the way you both came, and the second you're alone you collapse to the ground, knees digging into the pebble shore through the soiled fabric of your dress, fresh change of clothes forgotten as both of your hands start to claw at your throat, trying to breath -- why can't I breathe ?!

"Wait!"

As you gasp and hyperventilate, struggling to remember where you are and how you got here, it dawns on you that what you feel crawling under your skin and suffocating your throat is panic. You're...you're panicking. You thought you were taking this nightmare one horrible bite at a time why -- where did this tsunami wave of panic come from? You were doing so well holding it back, holding on, why --

Firm hands are suddenly gripping your shoulders and it takes you too long to realize that there is a small group of people standing around you, above you, closing you in, trapping you -- you're trapped who are they what do they want ?!

Your vision blacks out though you can still feel things, still hear things though it comes to you in disconnected pieces, out of order.

"WAIT!" You cry into the black, voice hoarse and broken as you try to breathe around the sound that won't stop coming from your mouth, your face feels wet, "WAIT!"

--

Kieran was shaken when Mary-Beth -- a complete worried mess -- discreetly came up to him at camp, whispering about Y/n being unwell by the river. And now as he slips through a patch of mud before forcefully parting thick shrubs into a small alcove, he sees her kneeling on the ground, hands at her own neck, struggling to breathe. Kieran's heart plummets down to drop out of the bottom of his feet.

"Y/n?!" He goes to his knees in front of her and grabs her shoulders, resisting the urge to shake her. Mary-Beth keeps her distance, covering her quivering mouth at the scene.

"WAIT!" Y/n yells, though it comes out as more of a hoarse whisper then a scream.

"Y/n! It's me! It's -- it's Kieran! You remember me?"

"What do you all want?! Who are you?! Why are there so many of you?!"

Kieran and Mary-Beth exchange a look, its only the two of them in the clearing. No one followed them down.

"Th-there's no one else but Mary-Beth an' me, see look! Just me right here in front of you -- there you go, see its just me, you see me? Then look, behind me, right there, see Mary-Beth?" Kieran coaxes gently, watching the logic he's laying out for her slowly collect the mania that scattered the sense in her eyes.

--

Realization dawns on you at the same time your sight returns. You let Kieran carefully take a hold of your wrists and pull them away from the red abused skin of your neck. You let him ground you, you let yourself acknowledge sensation one piece at a time: the pain in your knees from the pebbles digging in, the ache in your head, the raw skin of your back, the dryness of your throat, the burn in your tearducts -- and suddenly, before you can bottleneck it into a trickle, the whole world comes rushing in on you at once.

The smell of moist dirt, the sound of running water, the warmth of the sun, the caress of the wind against your wet cheeks, the privacy provided by all the surrounding vegetation. But even with all this reality, the figures remain. You're scared to look up, scared to stare at anything but their feet. Kieran's voice is getting more desperate though, you have to look up -- have to let him see you're recovering. With a shaky in take of breath you raise your gaze so it lands squarely on Kieran. In your peripherals these...figures, don't do anything but stand there. In fact they don't speak, don't move, don't even look like they're breathing. As Kieran fusses over you, his voice slightly muted as the ringing in your ears refuses to recede completely, you chance a glance over his left shoulder. As soon as you shift your eyes over to the figures they disappear, or more like blur, like its a trick of the light. You can still see them in your peripherals, just not the ones you're trying to look at directly. You slide your eyes back to Kieran, and notice that the figures you just tried to look at reappear.

Your breath struggles to find a comfortable rhythm as this new horror piles onto your fresh panic. Have you lost your mind? Is this part of time traveling? God, like time traveling wasn't enough to stop your heart, now you see ghosts?  

"Breathe, you're breathing that's good -- in through the nose out through the mouth, that's it," Kieran instructs, attempting to not to let you look away from him again, his hands gentle where they cup the outsides of your arms helping to dictate the pace in which your shoulders rise and fall.

You let out a shuttering breath and watch Kieran's own chest fill and empty, trying your best to match his movements. Eventually you do manage to wrangle your palpitating heart back down to a normal rhythm, and with this steadier beat comes your sense. The figures remain, though once you close your eyes to take one last large inhale to truly settle yourself, they're gone when your lashes lift again. Your hands are clutching the outsides of Kieran's forearms and you release them instantly, as if burned. A flush of embarrassment rises up to lick at the skin of your neck, it heats up your collar as you try to give Kieran a reassuring smile that ends up being more of a grimace than anything else. Kieran's face, previously pinched tight with worry, relaxes though so you figure you calmed him enough. The guilt hits you like a sledgehammer when you catch sight of Mary-Beth over Kieran's shoulder standing a few steps away, looking for all the world like she'd seen a ghost.

You wonder if that's what you looked like when you first saw the figures. You hope it was less alarming, though you figure having a full blown panic attack negated any possibility of that.  

"Y/n?" Kieran says softly, hands no longer touching you but still hovering just in case. The guilt guts you again.

"I'm fine," You murmur through a tight throat. At the doubtful look Kieran gives you, you add, "Now, I'm fine now."

You shift your gaze back to Mary-Beth and feel your cheeks heat at the realization that at your most vulnerable you were watched, made a spectacle.

"I'm sorry if I scared you, I-I didn't mean to, I, I haven't ever -- that's never happened to me before," Comes your wobbly explanation, all heart and no thought.

Mary-Beth hesitates a beat, taking a visible gulp to steady herself, before making her way closer only to kneel down beside Kieran in front of you. You flinch at the proximity, shame weighing your head down so much it lowers.

"I was only worried is all, didn't know what to do to help," She starts, voice shaky but kind, always kind, "I'm glad I went to get Kieran."

"Thank you, it -- I'm grateful for your, um, discretion."

"Sure thing, Miss," Mary-Beth nods, a soft smile lifting one corner of her mouth.

"Y/n, you can call me Y/n."

"Okay," She says with a breathy laugh, still a little shaken but being incredibly generous about it as she attempts to hide it.

There's a pause where you knot your fingers together, gathering the courage to face Kieran.

"Thank you Kieran, I --,"

"No thanks necessary," Your face jerks up at him at his words, his face goes soft at your surprise, "My Ma used to...worry, like that, after my Pa died."

"O-Oh." You mumble, utterly overwhelmed but you're not sure by what.

Silence throbs between you three for another moment before a twig cracking in the distance snaps all three of you out of your shared stillness.

'I-I best get cleaned up or the whole gang will think I murdered Mary-Beth," A nervous laugh catches in your throat, the muscle and delicate skin over it sore and red from all the scratching you did to it.

"Right," Kieran says, remaining kneeling with you as Mary-Beth rises to a stand.

You stare at Kieran for a moment, waiting for him to process what you said.

"Right!" Kieran's voice cracks as it finally sinks in and in a mad scramble that makes Mary-Beth giggle, he makes his way back through the brush leading back to camp.

He slips in the bit of mud on his way out of the alcove and this time, you join Mary-Beth in a timid laugh at Kieran's expense.

--

After washing yourself with a bar of crudely made soap Mary-Beth provided you, you slip into your shift and frock trying not to shiver. It takes you so long to figure out how to tie yourself in, guessing what layer goes under what, that Mary-Beth -- who had washed and dressed too -- approaches you to help.

"Still feeling...worried?" Mary-Beth uses the same term Kieran did when describing your panic attack as she steps up behind you to tie the strings of your skirt properly. You're grateful she attributes your lack of knowledge on how to properly dress in these period clothes to you still being a bit unsettled.

I mean you still feel quite shaken, but you have your nerves under control -- steady.

"I'm much better now, thank you," You assure as she gently turns you around to then adjust the frilly collar of the blouse that's been lent to you, "Thank you Mary-Beth, for everything."

She slows her ministrations for a moment and lets her gaze drops to yours, the weariness that sat in her eyes earlier fully evaporates, like mist under the high noon sun.

"You're a good woman, I think, at least no worse than the sort I'm familiar with. We shall be friends, Y/n."

"Okay," You allow, unsure what else you could say to that, though the sentiment does lighten the weight in your chest a little.

You guess she's okay to trust at least on some level, she was the one who regularly fed Kieran and you when you were still considered prisoners. Never tossed curses or insults at you either.

"Come," She urges as you both collect your soiled garments off the ground, "Let me introduce you to the other ladies, I promise they're much kinder than you might be expecting. Even the men, though a bit rough I admit, are mindful of us at the very least and quite sweet at their best."

You doubt you'll ever see them that way, in fact you'd bet your life on it, but you keep that to yourself as Mary-Beth leads you both out of the alcove and back up to camp.  

--

The other women aren't too bad.

Tilly is young and sparky, Karen is loud and lonely, Abigail is protective and torn, Susan is stubborn and proud, Molly is insecure and loyal, and Sadie is broken and hard. You match your personal interactions with them, with the impressions you had of them while tied up, reminding yourself to never forget everything they did or said to you while you were the enemy. They take to you easily enough you suppose, though Sadie keeps to herself and Susan -- or you should say Grimshaw, believes herself a level above them all. Not unlike Molly who hadn't even spared you a glance from the perch she'd claimed in Dutch's tent planted in the center of camp. Mary-Beth seems closest with Tilly, Karen, and Abigail, absolutely determined to pull you into their tight knit group and brush off any doubts they had about you being an O'Driscoll whore. You allowed her to do this but only to an extent and only out of respect for Mary-Beth, you didn't trust them -- barely trusted them to be civil like they are being now. In the end it was Kieran who you felt safest with, felt like you could really breathe around. The only ally you had in this place -- an equal.

You seek him out once the sun starts to set after kindly refusing Mary-Beth who offered a place for you to rest with the other women. Kieran is with the horses, though he's got his eyes on the tree line opposite of where he stands. With a twang of worry at how focused he is, you follow his line of sight but only see tree trunks and shadows cast by the setting sun.

"Kieran?" You call tentatively as you walk up to him. He jumps, completely startled, and whips around to face you.

"Oh! Y/n I, I didn't hear you,"

Your eyebrows knit at his expression, "Is something wrong?"

"No! No, I was just, uh, waiting for something."

"Waiting? Waiting for what?"

"Well, my - my horse, Branwen, she's -- well she's quite a loyal girl. Found me at Colter she did and followed us down from the mountains, saw her when we was walkin' behind the wagon. She hasn't had the nerve to approach the camp, what with all the noise and the unfamiliar herd of horses millin' about."

"I didn't know horses were that loyal," You say in quiet astonishment, you always thought that kind of stuff only happened in those cheesy horse flicks.

"Oh yes! If you treat them right and earn their trust and respect, they'll do almost anything for ya."

Your eyebrows jump lazily at this, "Go figure."

"What?" Kieran asks, confused at the term.

"Uh nevermind, so, have you a found a place to sleep?"

"Sleep?" His throat sounds dry all of a sudden.

You stay silent, waiting patiently for a response, wondering why he's become so skittish. He licks his lips, maybe a nervous habit, and can't seem to look you in eye.

"Well, yes I have, but surely Mary-Beth has found you somewhere suitable."

"I don't trust any of them to not kill me in my sleep."

Kieran backs up a step as if you'd struck him, "Mary-Beth wouldn't --,"

A harsh huff blows from your lips.

"No she wouldn't. I, I don't feel like I could sleep among so many...strangers." Comes your quiet admission.

Kieran observes your face for a moment, really takes in your expression.

"I know how you feel," He pauses, fiddling with his sleeve cuff, "How about you sleep while I watch?"

Your head snaps up and you eye him with potent suspicion, but before you can comment or become truly alarmed Kieran trips over himself to clarify.

"N-Not watch you! Not like that! Christ alive no, m-more like watch your back -- stand guard, that way you can sleep without havin' to worry."

Something very close to amused fondness rolls through your chest and clears out any doubts on Kieran's intentions. A giggle escapes your lips at how flustered he is at the notion of what you'd initially thought he meant.

"How about we take turns, I sleep for half the night, and then you for the rest? That way we both get sleep without having to freak out."

Kieran looks like he's about to argue, but he watches you place your hands on your hips very very deliberately, and relents with a sigh.

"Oh alright, but I have first watch!"

You break out a triumphant smile, a real one, and give his left shoulder a friendly punch.

"Deal!" You confirm.

Kieran rubs at the place where you punched him, a bit confused at the gesture but still finds himself laughing with you.

It turns out Kieran picked a sleeping spot near the outskirts of camp behind one of the wagons far from where anyone would disturb you. Some sort of campfire set up for whoever was on guard duty sits a couple paces away. The fact that there was a twenty-four hour patrol routine frayed on your nerves more than you wanted it to. It reminded you that these people were hunted, that if something were to happen you'd be caught up in it as well, even be killed because of it. The idea of dying for these people made you sick, but you never let yourself think about it too long or your anxiety rose to dangerous levels.

As you settle down on the bed of hay that serves as your bed, Kieran plops down cross legged behind you.

He gives a weary sounding sigh, "You know folk'll talk, with us sharing the same sleeping space an all. You sure you want to deal with that?"

You twist around, finding yourself staring at Kieran's hunched back as he picks at the grass near his ankles.

"I don't care what these people think of me. They can say whatever the fuck they want," Kieran jumps a bit when you curse, "I trust you, I only care what they say if you care Kieran."

A pregnant pause grows between you two then, something cold twinges in your chest.  

"Do you? Care?"

"I care only for what might be said about you, I know you say it don't matter, but we're already hated. The women at least seem to like you, you -- you could be one of them, be part of the gang I mean."

You sit up and put a hand on Kieran's shoulder, gently urging him to turn to face you.

"Kieran you have been my only ally since all this started, I could care less about being part of this," You wave your hand vaguely to the camp.

"Well you should care, what other option do we have? We know too much about them, we can't ever leave. You understand that don't you?"

Your face begins to drain of blood. For some reason you hadn't thought of it like that. These people weren't just hunted, but they hunted as well. You knew their faces, could identify them if asked to. You knew their names, their habits, their whereabouts. They'd never let you leave this gang, not alive.

"Oh my god," You say in quiet horror.

Kieran notices this but remains silent, sharing your sentiments. The need to travel back to your time becomes even more of a priority than before if that's even possible. You needed to find a way to escape, and hopefully you could help Kieran get free too.

"We'll find a way Kieran, I promise I'll get us out."

Kieran firmly shakes his head, turning back to face forward and away from the determination in your eyes.

"There's no where for me to go even if we did manage to escape without bullets in our backs. I have no money, no trade, no skills."

"You've said you're good with horses!" You try but Kieran only shakes his head again.

"You have to have some sort of reference or be known to be respectable to work at a stable, even one in a town and especially on one of them fancy ranches. Plus I'd wager that by the time we would have the means to escape, our faces'll be plastered up on wanted posters along with the rest of the gang's."

You try not to blanch further at this, not having considered that either.

"We have to try and work our way into this gang Y/n, its either that or die. I know this kinda life, done it before, I know our options and I'm tellin'em to ya now."

Kieran shifts to look at you over his shoulder, his gaze insisting things you don't want to hear.

"It's the only way."

There's a sting in your eye that you swiftly ignore by blinking hard against the feeling. Your breath shutters out through your nose, and without another word you lie back down. Kieran watches you do this, his mouth parting as if to speak but he shuts it and turns back around. Silence reigns once more, a gap stretching between you that's worrisome. Keeping the nerves out of your tone, you promptly break the quiet.

"What did you do when they took you to the O'Driscoll hideout to convince them to let you be part of the gang? What did you say to try and convince them of my innocence? You seemed so sure you could untie me when you came back." You ask in a murmur, having been wondering about this since Kieran came rushing back to you tied to the tree, whispering about being free now.  

Kieran shifts a bit and huffs, "Well I first swore I'd never seen you until you were being tied next to me behind that wagon in Colter, but they didn't believe me. So I then said that Colm didn't usually stick with one whor -- uh, lady of loose morals, that he liked, er, variety. They again said they didn't believe me, so I told them the truth. Any woman Colm spends a night with usually doesn't come out of it unmarred."

"Unmarred?" Something in your gut sinks in horror.

"They always leave pretty roughed up. He's not, he's not gentle with 'em. And I said that if you was his, if he had...acquainted himself with you and often enough for you to know some of his personal secrets, you'd have been in a much worse state than they originally found ya in."

"You mean besides being naked and freezing to death?" You scoff, disgusted with this Colm person and starting to understand why everyone in camp seemed to hate Kieran and you so much thinking you associated with that kind of man.  

Kieran clears his throat, "Besides that."

There's a pause, then, "Forgive my lack of delicacy, but you were found n-naked? Why? If you don't mind my askin' of course!"

You manage to choke out, "It's a long story."

"How did, how did they take you back to camp?"

"I don't know, all I know is that Arthur is the one who saved me. Though I wish he'd left me to die instead of bringing me here."

"Mr. Morgan saved you?" Kieran asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," You confirm rather sourly, "The one who doesn't seem to have a merciful bone in his body."

"Well I'm not dead because I shot an O'Driscoll and saved his life at Six Point."

You take a moment to consider this information.

"Owing a life debt is not the same as mercy." Comes your stubborn rebuff, refusing to give Arthur even an inch of sympathy in your mind.

The both of you quiet again, and this time the silence isn't heavy with unspoken words. Just before you're about to fall asleep, you find the extra fabric of Kieran's coat with your fingers, and twist the rough material into your closed hand. Your dreams consist of a warm chest pressed to your front and the worn fur lining of a coat wrapped around your back, a pocket of safety tucked between an arched neck and a stiff flipped up collar...

--

You wake to the noise of the camp, birds twittering high in the trees, and Kieran's jacket laying over your body that's curled tightly in on itself during the night.

With a sore grunt you sit up, body still aching from all the abuse its been through. Kieran hadn't woken you, he'd let you sleep through the whole night. You feel a flare of guilt and frustration rise in you, followed quickly though by begrudging fondness. You should have known he'd do something like that, the softie. Getting to your feet, you wipe the stray pieces of hay stuck to your skirts off and groan internally at how uncomfortable it is to sleep in these old fashion clothes (thank god they hadn't stuck you in a corset). Though its leagues better than nodding off tied to a tree. Once you make your way into camp proper, Mary-Beth bumbles up to you all smiles and simmering questions about how you slept last night while leading you to a wooden pail that she informs holds the water the women use for their personal hygiene.

"Heaven forbid we're made to share with the men!" She exclaims good-naturedly as you approach the mini bathing station set on a stool by the women's tents.

You watch Karen finish splashing water in her face before scrubbing and rinsing her teeth. She spits the water out onto the grass beside her and not back into the pail (which you are grateful to see), then scoots over with a mumbled good morning directed at you when Mary-Beth ushers you forward to do the same. You hope that you can get your hands on some soap that is possibly softer against your skin than what you used yesterday by the river. If you don't wash your face twice a day you know you'll break out, and though acne should be the least of your concerns right now, the familiar motion of splashing water on your face pushes the domestic thought to the forefront of your mind. As you dab your face dry with a clean cloth that Mary-Beth hands you, distractedly you wonder if the water you are using was cleaned or prepped in any way. Surely washing your face with river water wouldn't do your skin or your tastebuds any favors. Fighting a grimace, you scrub and then rinse your teeth but find that while the water doesn't taste like algae as you feared it might, it doesn't taste like the bottled water you have in your fridge at home either.  

Once you're done, you thank Mary-Beth for her guidance and are about to turn to go find Kieran, when Karen appears at your right and hooks her arm through yours, pulling you over to their tent where a small crude vanity is set up.

"Do you wear makeup Y/n?" Karen asks, "Only Mary-Beth, Tilly and I use this station, though Grimshaw likes to sometimes steal the face powder and pretend she's not wearing any, the old hag."

You don't know what to say, a bit shell-shocked at the familiarity they're employing, as you catch a glimpse of Molly across camp, just a step outside of Dutch's tent, carefully applying red lipstick. She brings the pretty little decorated hand held mirror she's using closer to her lips to inspect her work, turning her face slowly from side to side, utilizing the early morning sun's soft glow.

"Uh, sometimes," You start but quickly backtrack when you realize you know nothing about the makeup from whatever time period this is, "But not enough to really know how to do it myself, my --,"

"Yourself?" Karen interrupts, Mary-Beth and her both stilling in their fussing to face you, "You mean you had someone to do it for you? What, you some kind of heiress or somethin'?"

The questions make you nervous, but you school your features so as to not let that show.

"No, nothing like that. My older sister did it for me, she always liked to dress me up in things." You lie.

"Oh a sister? That must be nice, what's she like?" Mary-Beth asks, not unkindly.

Fuck.

"Like all older sisters I guess, she's nice until I borrow her stuff without asking." It's vague but believable, you hope it convinces them.

Karen lets out a snort and Mary-Beth shakes her head with a smile.

"Sounds about right," Karen says as she directs you to sit.

"I-I really don't think make-up is necessary," You warn as Karen begins to rummage through the little that's laid out in front of you.

"Lord's sake! We need to get into town, we've got barely nothin' left that didn't freeze to sludge up in Colter!" Karen grumps, completely ignoring you and continuing to search finger through the tiny bottles and tin trays.

Mary-Beth laments Karen's statement with a sigh, neatly pinning a curl up into the mass she'd collected into a bouquet near the crown of her head, using a corner of the mirror you've been sat in front of as a guide.

"Uncle was sayin' yesterday that he'd been meaning to go into town today, maybe we can catch a ride with him." Mary-Beth suggests.

Karen rolls her eyes, "Let's hope that out of us women, one of us can drive. I wouldn't trust that ol' geezer to steer a spoon into a bowl."

You're about to once again attempt to excuse yourself and look for Kieran, when Tilly walks up to the girls and you with a distinct scowl on her face. She plops down under the awning of the tent, pulls out some sort of sewing project and sets to work without a word.

"What's wrong Tilly?" Karen inquires almost as soon as Tilly had sat down, ignoring her show of clearly wanting to be left alone.

"Grimshaw." Is Tilly's only response though this seems to be explanation enough for both Karen and Mary-Beth, they both groan in sympathy.

"If you don't want to wear any make-up, let me at least do something with your hair," Mary-Beth pleads, turning back to you, as Karen elbows you off the stool when you duck away from her hand holding some sort of powder puff.

"Um,"

"Just a brush through then? Your hair is, well it's just a bit tangled." She furthers as Karen leans in close to the mirror and starts putting on what seems to be this era's version of eyeliner.

"A bit? It looks like rats have taken up occupation in there." Karen scoffs as she holds her eyelid taught with one finger and uses her other hand to drag a fine brush along her lash line.

"Karen!" Mary-Beth admonishes as Tilly giggles down into her sewing across the tent.

You only sigh, still uncomfortable with them pretending like they didn't all hate your guts a couple days ago. Except for Mary-Beth. You sigh.

"Okay." Your surrender is met with a wide grin from Mary-Beth.

"Mary-Beth loves to do hair," Karen explains unnecessarily as she moves onto her other eye.

You're then sat on a different stool facing out towards camp, and Mary-Beth begins the long grueling process of brushing out your hair that hasn't seen shampoo in over a week and a half.

--

It's around mid-morning when Mary-Beth finally finishes with your hair. You're a bit surprised she stuck with it, you thought after about twenty minutes with only a small portion of your hair untangled to show for it she'd give up. But she was oddly determined. Karen and Tilly had gone to ransack Pearson's wagon in search of breakfast and brought back a few loaves of bread with a can of peaches. They laid the pre-cut slices of fruit heaviest with juice over the loaves of soft bread they'd thumbed open. It was delicious. After a week of only eating crumbs it was comparable to heaven. Once you finish, you ask if there is any left that you could take to Kieran.

"The O'Driscoll?" Karen scoffs, licking her fingertips clean of peach juice.

All previous good will she'd been building with you disappears. They had all watched as Kieran and you suffered and did nothing. A fuzzy memory of Karen tossing a still lit cigarette bud in Kieran's face resurfaces and it sours your frown into a hateful scowl. These women are not your friends, a part of you feels ashamed you let them trick you into thinking that, even for a moment.

"He is not an O'Driscoll."

Karen, Mary-Beth, and Tilly freeze at your tone, Karen seeming at a loss for words at the look you're giving her. All previous levity dives into insufferable tension.

"Sorry," Karen apologizes in a voice very unlike the brash snark she'd been using all morning.  

You don't say another word, you only collect the last loaf of bread, the near empty can of peaches, and storm off in search of Kieran.

You find him coming out of the treeline near where the gang's horses graze, with a new horse in tow. Kieran has a smile on his face. As you make your way over to him, avoiding contact with anyone else, you realize you've never actually seen Kieran smile before. This time Kieran sees you coming and the grin on his face grows, it warms your heart, reminding you who your true friend is.

"Is that Branwen?" You ask through a smile of your own, walking around the herd to one of the hitching posts near the hay wagon Kieran is making his way over to.  

"It is!" Kieran replies as he gently guides his horse to stop before the post, giving her dirty mane a loving pat, "Been coaxin' her to me all morning."

"She's pretty," You offer as you come to stand next to him, being careful not to move too fast, unsure how to handle yourself so close to a horse.

"Oh she looks like a two cent nag with all the filth she's got collected in her coat."

"Well I can tell from the," You gesture with the peach can towards the mare, "Colorings, that she'll be super cute when she's all clean."

Kieran blinks furiously at the terms 'super' and 'cute', but you rush into another sentence in the hopes of distracting him from your odd terminology.

"I brought you breakfast," You present the bread and the peach can to him.

He looks down at your offerings and only stares, "That's kind of ya, but where did you get it? Did Pearson give it to you?"

You shake your head, "The women shared it with me."

Kieran stares at you for a moment, then blinks up at your hair, seeming to just know realize it isn't in knots anymore.

"Oh," He says dumbly, "Oh."

"So, breakfast?" You say again, trying not to laugh.

"I should really care for Branwen first," Kieran begins to say but trails off at the look on your face.

"Thanks for waking me up last night to switch guard shifts," You muse, rolling the peach can between your fingers. Kieran's eyes drop to watch the motion and he gulps, "Really appreciate waking up feeling like a worthless friend."

You know you're going hard on the guilt trip, but you can't help it. He's easy to tease but you are truly peeved he didn't wake you.

"We had an agreement Kieran," One more moment and --

"Okay I'm sorry!"

There it is.

"I knew you wanted me to wake you up to switch, but I couldn't help it! You looked so tired, I just couldn't do it." He whines.

You pretend to ponder on this, shifting your weight to sit in one hip.

"I'll only forgive you if you eat first, then you can care for Branwen."

Kieran looks so genuinely torn by this you almost relent, but he caves before he makes you feel guilty and grabs the food from you. You stay, wanting to make sure he eats it all.

"Wait!" You cry as he stuffs the entire loaf into his mouth.

He startles and stares wide eyed at your outstretched hands.

"You're supposed to put the peaches on top," You pout, "That way the juice sinks into the bread and it isn't too dry."

Kieran only shrugs at this, chews the bread for another moment before swallowing (though you feel like he should have chewed a mouthful that big a bit longer; seriously that must have hurt going down), before sticking his fingers into the can to scrape out the last few slices of peach. You roll your eyes at this.

I guess men will be men no matter the time period.

"Okay I'm done, can I wash Branwen now?" Kieran asks your permission, though you suspect this is done more out of fond spite than anything else.

You find yourself rolling your eyes yet again as you snatch the can from him, and answer him anyways, "Yes."

Kieran gives you a quick thanks before rushing back over to Branwen, cooing at her sweetly, before starting to remove the weather worn saddle from her back. You place the can by your feet, ready to sit down in the grass and watch Kieran for the rest of the afternoon, even offer to help though you don't the first thing about cleaning a horse, when someone clears their throat behind you. You swivel your head over your shoulder and find that its Mary-Beth. She looks sheepish at best, guilty at worst. The softness in you hardens.

"Um me and the girls were wonderin' if you wanted to ride into town with us," She waves a hand towards the main entrance of camp and you see a wagon hitched and ready to go. Karen and Tilly are sitting in the back looking at you across camp, while the elderly man they called Uncle and Arth --

"I'm fine." You decline automatically when you spot Arthur sitting on the driver's bench next to Uncle, fiddling with the reigns.

Mary-Beth pauses, her expression tensing like she had expected that response. You hear all the noise behind you quiet, you know Kieran has turned around to listen.

"And usually that'd be fine an' all but, we need to get you clothes of your own, seeing as you can't keep borrowin' ours." You must make some sort of face because she steps forward, voice thin with nerves, "We don't mind! It's just we don't have many outfits to spare, it'd be more laundry, more work. Plus we wanna put what money we have left together to get you something to wear of your own."

"I don't need your charity," You snarl before you can stop yourself. If they think a new dress is going to make up for almost two weeks of torture --

"That's not what this is! It's..." She sighs in frustration, though you have a feeling she's not frustrated with you.

"They're tryin'," Kieran murmurs behind you suddenly. Mary-Beth looks up at this and for a startling moment you think she might cry.

"Yes, we're tryin'," She says on an exhale, giving Kieran such a profound look of gratitude it makes you consider her offer, "An' we don't know your sizes, or we'd save ya the trouble of the trip. Though, we thought you might like an afternoon out of camp."

Before you can put the pieces together yourself, Kieran crouches down to get eye level with you and bumps your shoulder with his.

"This is good Y/n, it's a sign of trust. They're lettin' you outta camp." He tells you softly, meaning the words for your ears only. The look he had in his eyes last night reappears now, it makes you want to hit something.

Your gaze gravitates back to Arthur sitting in the driver's seat, smoking with his hat tilted low over his eyes and looking for all the world like a hero straight out of one of those old western movies. He resolutely doesn't look your way even though the entire rest of the wagon, including Uncle, are staring unabashedly at Mary-Beth and you.

"It's not a sign of trust," You whisper, turning your head towards Kieran so only he can hear you, "It's a test."

Without another word you rise to your feet, trying not to wince at the ache still present in your back.

"If I go then Kieran gets to come too." You state firmly -- nonnegotiable.

"Of course!" Mary-Beth agrees quickly.

Kieran makes his way back to Branwen though, who had been standing so patiently behind you this whole time, and begins to lead her towards the water pails kept by the herd.

"I'm staying," He says, and at your look of minor betrayal he adds, "Gotta clean up my girl, plus I'd have nothin' to do in town."

You know he's only saying that to avoid conflict, because no matter what Mary-Beth agrees to, you have a feeling Arthur wouldn't approve of both O'Driscolls coming along. Your bitterness grows distinctly more potent. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest when Kieran gives you an encouraging smile, nodding his head towards Mary-Beth urging you to go.

"I'll be fine, now go!" He says when you refuse to move still, unsure if you can.

This was in part about sticking with your ally yes, but also you didn't feel safe going with them if Kieran wasn't by your side. Who's to say Arthur wouldn't suddenly decide to beat you even though he'd chosen not to before? You didn't know him, didn't know them. You only trusted them to do what they'd always done, and that was be cruel and unfeeling towards you. Mary-Beth less so than the others but still. Arthur terrified you the most out of all of them. He had such anger in him, the kind that made a man destructive to himself and others. Whatever other complexities he might have, he is undoubtedly dangerous and that's the last thing you wanted to defend against right now.

"She'll go," Kieran says for you when you remain quiet.

Your eyes close as you struggle to contain the knot of emotion roiling in your gut.

"Okay," Mary-Beth murmurs, unsure.

"When I get back," You say, voice low, as you turn to face Kieran, "I'll want to see Branwen in all her glory."

Kieran gives you a ghost of the smile he'd had earlier, and nods in acquiesce.

Without another word you pivot on your heel and walk towards the wagon, brushing past Mary-Beth. You hear her scurry to catch up with you after a few beats, though you make sure to keep your eyes down at the ground as you approach the wagon, unable -- or more like unwilling, to let anyone see the riot of emotion wrecking havoc in your eyes. Once you reach the lip of the wagon Mary-Beth waits for you to climb up, before hauling herself up too. You sit on the right bench across from Karen and Tilly, Mary-Beth sliding in next to you.

"I can't believe we're going to see civilization," Tilly suddenly starts as Arthur snaps the reigns and the wagon jerks forward, "It feels like weeks since we did."

"Yeah, Valentine, the very embodiment of civilization," Uncle interjects with a wet sounding cackle, "You ladies are gonna love it!"

"Okay then," Arthur starts as he pulls the wagon out of the cluster of woods that hide the camp, "Let's go!"

Everything in you turns to stone at the sound of his voice, so many conflicting experiences with him -- with that voice, jamming themselves to the front of your brain all at once. You're so tense Mary-Beth tenses beside you too. Before awkward silence can settle over the group, Uncle twists to face the women in his seat.

"Ladies! Sing us a song!"

It seems to be the right thing to say because after a short chorus of giggles, Karen cues the girls in with a nasally but not unpleasant song about a girl in Berryville. They sing loudly, carelessly, and happily, relishing each other's company, the sun, the fresh air, and the views. Refusing to enjoy anything, you keep your gaze down on your hands that pick at the material of your skirt. Maybe this whole thing is a blessing in disguise. There are bound to be newspapers in a town right? They had books in camp so you know printing presses existed. You could possibly figure out where the hell you were and what time period you were in. It had occurred to you that asking Kieran for the date not just by day, but by year would come across as odd, even if he would tell you without many questions. The last thing you wanted to do was compromise the trust Kieran had in you, your only ally. You still have your eyes glued to your lap when you hear a panicked,

"Woah! Woah there!" A stagecoach comes barreling past the front of the wagon, Arthur having to pull the reigns up short to avoid a collision, kicking up huge clouds of dust that descend down around you.  

"Look at that coach! He's...he's all over the place," You hear Uncle mumble under his breath.

The women are still singing, though slightly distracted now as you all crane your necks to see what the commotion is about. Arthur encourages the wagon's horses left onto the main road where, just ahead, the horses of the runaway coach come to a reeling stop and with an audible snap, break free of the reigns.

--

"Oh goddammit! Oh shit, the horses!" Comes the cursing from the coach driver.

Arthur slows the horses to a walk as they come upon the stopped coach, one of the shires -- a big white stallion -- takes off in a fury towards a thin copse of trees on the other side of the road. Before he can grapple with shoving down the instinct to help the man, Tilly pipes up from the back.

"Is one of you gonna get that feller's horse?"

"Oh I got lumbago! It's very serious," Uncle immediately deflects without hesitation, like he had the excuse ready.

Arthur refrains from saying anything especially cruel to the old man in response, knowing he'd only make himself look like a fool. A part of him wants to push the wagon into a full gallop, leave this small choice behind him in the dust. He feels her eyes staring holes into his back though, and it makes him uncomfortable. Out of spite he wants to ignore the man, just to prove to her -- to himself that he can...that he's still cruel and angry enough to ignore a person in need. Arthur growls internally at himself. He has no idea what he's on about. With a sharp inhale and a quick clench and release of his jaw, he wordlessly hops out of the wagon, tossing the reigns at Uncle and getting the petty satisfaction of watching him fumble to catch them. Arthur lets himself do this despite feeling like he's chipping away at something important, something he needs to protect himself. Because if he's not angry he's empty...but she's staring --

"I'll see what's going on." He says through a tight jaw, promptly interrupting his own train of thought, "Lumbago, really," He mutters petulantly to himself as he makes his way over to the driver.

The stagecoach driver, catching sight of Arthur coming round to his side of the coach to help, hops down from the driver's bench and lands on shaky legs.

"You alright there friend?" Arthur inquires as the driver steadies himself against the side of the coach looking like a colt just learning to walk.

"Oh hey! You couldn't help me get my other horse back from over there, could you?" The driver says in leu of a response.

Arthur ignores the lack of manners, taking in how frazzled the fool truly is. Must be new.  

"Sure, no problem." Arthur says, briefly thinking of stealing the horse but waving the thought away as quickly as it appeared -- old habits.

"Thanks mister, its the white one over there." The driver instructs with a sigh of relief.

Arthur isn't sure how to feel about how simple -- how easy being kind is, it feels so foreign yet familiar, so natural and good that for a moment Arthur's heart stops. He actively ignores his thoughts and her watchful eyes from the wagon, following him as he makes his way across the road and into the smattering of trees where the white shire has taken refuge. Arthur coaxes the stallion to him easily enough, the beast coming up to him only after Arthur made him move his feet a little to earn his trust, show him he was the leader. He grabs hold of the dragging reigns and checks to make sure the horse didn't hurt his mouth by stepping on the reigns when fleeing or when he ripped clean away from the coach. The horse's soft mouth seems a little tender but no serious damage has been done, lucky beast. Arthur clicks at stallion to follow and leads them both back to the stagecoach driver currently wrangling the other shire back into the coach restraints.

"Here, here you go." Arthur announces himself and the returned horse.

The driver whips his attention over to him, stopping his fussing over the horse's tack, and exhales heavily in relief and gratitude.

"You're a gentlemen, sir, a gentlemen!" He exclaims as he takes the reigns from Arthur.

Arthur's chest aches at the praise, like acid in his stomach -- unworthy.

"No, not really...I was just," Arthur glances over his shoulder at the wagon, "Tryin' to impress the women."

He hears the girls giggling at this, though he knows which one of them remains silent.

The driver gives a hearty chuckle, "Well, anyway, thank you!"

Arthur nods at the man, biting back the warning about the shire's sensitive mouth and to go easy on the reigns next time, and heads swiftly back towards the wagon.

"C'mon!" Uncle urges as Arthur hauls himself up into the driver's seat.

"To Valentine!" Karen cries as Arthur snaps the reigns and the wagon lurches forward.

Arthur's grateful no one is bringing up --

"You're turnin' into a regular ol' fairy godmother there, Arthur!"

The urge to push Uncle out of the wagon takes a fierce hold of him. He only tightens his grip on the reigns instead.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur grits out, delivering Uncle the most unfriendly glare in his arsenal.

"It means you've gotta heart!" Mary-Beth interjects from the back, "A small one perhaps, hidden deep inside, but a real one!"

Her words are a surprisingly odd comfort, but they mostly confirm his fear. Its simpler if he's just fury and hate. The idea that beneath all that is something truer than what he is now, that's something he absolutely does not want to deal with right now. Or ever.  

"And you haven't! You repulsive old lizard!" Mary-Beth crows at Uncle, the girls all murmuring their adamant agreement.

"Lizards have hearts!" Uncle argues weakly, though Mary-Beth doesn't dignify that with a response.  

"Well Arthur," It's Tilly this time that speaks up, "I'm proud of you."

God were all of them gonna praise him like he just saved a newborn child from certain death? He doesn't think he can take much more of this. Arthur attempts to remind them all who he really is.

"To be honest, if you lot hadn't been here, I probably woulda robbed 'im." He says, hoping to regain some semblance of the intimidating image he'd carefully curated over the years. A bit concerned it could be knocked so easily, and over an act as simple as helping a stranger.  

Uncle wheezes out a dark chuckle at that, Karen joining him, but Mary-Beth speaks up again strangely determined to drive her point home.

"Well, you didn't!"

Arthur wonders belatedly if this is Mary-Beth's way of trying to endear him to the her, who has remained silent this whole exchange and ever since she got in the damn wagon. Something twists suddenly in his gut but Arthur smothers it on reflex, dawning his armor of anger. Good, he thinks, let her fear me, and laughs along with Uncle and Karen as they cross the railroad that circles through the town and lumber past what looks to be the station and post office.

"Smell those sheep!" Tilly says as they pass by a couple sizable livestock pens at the same time Arthur hears Mary-Beth promptly snap out her fan, and begin beating it quickly against the smell of shit.

Karen gives a hearty scoff, "Or is that Uncle?"

"Oh very funny," Uncle grouses in a slump beside him.

Arthur can't help the grin that spreads across his face.

"This looks like a decent little town." Mary-Beth insists even as she continues to vigorously work her fan.

"Other people," Tilly groans, "Finally!"

"Look at all that snow on the mountains! Sure don't want to be back up there," Mary-Beth points out, everyone in the wagon turning to glance at the icy peaks in the distance and all sharing a collective shiver.  

"You think we should have asked Molly to come with us?" Tilly wonders after another moment of taking in the bustling town.

Arthur is quickly assaulted with the image of Molly walking past the livestock pens getting mud and shit and who knows what else on her shoes, most certainly ruining the hem of her dress, and almost lets out a bark of laughter. Molly O'Shea would rather die than be subjected to an afternoon in a town like this. Karen, as Arthur knew she would, jumps at the opportunity to tear into the Irish woman.

"Oh no, Miss O'Shea is far too high and mighty now for the likes of us, or to do any real work. She's a society lady now!" Her tone bleeds heavily with sarcasm and bitterness, Arthur wonders if Dutch is aware of how much animosity lies between some of the women of the gang. Sure they all bit chunks out of each other once in awhile, but this divide between Molly and the other ladies was far wider than Arthur felt was smart to ignore.

"Okay, take a look around ladies," Karen buffers on, not lingering on the negativity she created for too long, "Let's see what we got here."

They're all silent as they keep an eye out for possible opportunities. Arthur carefully navigates the wagon down the main road of Valentine, weathered wooden buildings sinking in mud line the path, paint chipping, signs swinging in the slight breeze, and folk coming and going. He catalogues a sheriff station, a general store, a hotel, a saloon, a gunsmith, and even a doctor's office. Not bad for a livestock town. The sounds of horses whinnying in a decent sized stable at the end of the street catches Arthur's particular attention. He perks up when he spots a good place to park the wagon near a building under construction adjacent to the stables. Maneuvering slowly to their destination, he stops the wagon with a gentle 'woah' to the horses once he's brought the bulk of the wagon out of the way of traffic.    

"Alright! Here we are, just like I said," Uncle boasts as everyone stands to unload, "The cultural center of civilization, man at its finest!"

Arthur only rolls his eyes at Uncle's attempt at humor and effortlessly hops down from the driver bench.

"Uncle, what're we doin'?" Arthur asks before the old fool spews anymore nonsense.

"Well, we're gonna do what any other self-respecting maniac does," Arthur signals a stable hand over to feed and water their horses as Uncle talks, pushing a few dollars into the boy's dirty hands, "Put the women to work."

Karen snorts, "With pleasure, we'll start at the saloon."

As Arthur comes around to the back of the wagon, he notices Tilly struggling to find her footing on the lip of the wagon under the layers of her dress. He quickly offers her a hand which she immediately takes.

"Thank you Arthur," She murmurs in gratitude as, with the help of his hand to steady her, she easily braves the large gap between the wagon and the mud below.

He nods at her once she's landed safely on the ground, but grunts as she thanks him again. She shouldn't waste her kindness on him. Arthur tries his best not to look at her as the women all gather together after unloading off of the wagon. He finds himself quite annoyed that the urge to is so insistent.

"Alright," He begins once Uncle finally makes his way over to stand beside Arthur who in planted firmly in front of the ladies, "Remember to stay outta trouble and don't get yourselves noticed."

Mary-Beth hooks arms with her as he talks, though he only makes eye contact with Tilly and Karen, avoiding her side of the group entirely. Karen rolls her eyes at him and when he's done, playfully pushing past him before motioning for the other women to follow.

"We know Arthur, you don't have to be such an over protective nag about it."

A noise of unfiltered indignation rips itself out of Arthur's mouth at her words, something embarrassing between a scoff and a squawk.

--

"See Arthur's not so bad," Mary-Beth murmurs in your ear as she leads you after Karen and Tilly who are striding confidently towards a building with literal swinging doors, "A right mother hen when given half the chance!"

You try not to let her words irritate you. She means well, you can acknowledge that, but her continuous attempts to humanize Arthur are more annoying than helpful. It feels like you are being forced to forgive a man that has purposefully tried to terrify you and while never having beat you, was okay with watching others do it. No amount of helping strangers or chivalry will convince you he wouldn't kill you dead without hesitation if he felt it was necessary.

You only hum at her claim, still largely uncomfortable with the physical familiarity the women keep attempting to engage you in. It takes all your strength to stop yourself from yanking your arm out from the loop of her's. Mary-Beth must sense your unease though, and wordlessly releases your arm. You're grateful she doesn't comment on it.

"C'mon ladies!" Karen exclaims, still leading you all up the street, "Imagine we're in Paris!"

"I imagine Paris and Valentine are easily confused," Tilly remarks rather sharply, her mouth twisting a little as mud squelches under their feet with each step.

You raise an eyebrow at the comment, sympathizing with her remark as you narrowly avoid stepping in a vat of what you assume is horse shit. It certainly smells foul enough, plus the flies are a dead give away. Eventually you all stop before the rickety steps of a saloon that looks like its come straight out of a movie or a high budget reenactment set. The swinging doors, the drunk piano playing wafting out from inside even though you dare say its only noon, completes the the full effect. You stand there a moment and just stare at it, stare at the people walking in and out, at their clothes, at the way they walk, at the way they talk, just everything. The town really cements the fact that you are no longer in the year 2020. An odd mixture of adrenaline and anxiety shoots through your veins then, and its difficult to process it all.  

"Newspaper," You hear yourself mutter as you continue to stare wide eyed at the saloon.

Mary-Beth hears you and turns to shoot you a questioning look.

Realizing you had just said that out loud, you blink back an embarrassed flush and clear your throat.

"I'd like to check out the newspaper that kid was selling, the one we passed on the way into town. I don't need to buy one, I just want to look."

"What are you checking for?" Mary-Beth asks, suddenly becoming very guarded, the most you've ever seen her in fact.

You panic a little, "Just the date and where exactly we are. I'm not from around here, not really familiar with this part of the country."  

Her eyes sharpen and proceed to methodically take apart your expression, examining every twitch and blink like it held a secret. You figure she's weighing whether or not this will be a threat to them -- to the gang. It further emphasizes the void between you. They would always be a them. It would never be a we.

"Alright, I'll come with you. Then we can go get you some new clothes." Mary-Beth eventually agrees, turning to wave at the other girls -- signaling your departure, before Tilly and Karen enter the saloon.

You both trudge along in silence, your anger flaring up at this blatant display of distrust despite all of her efforts so far to prove to you she's 'trying'. Once again you attempt to not to let all the emotion get to you. Trust goes both ways, and no way were you going to take the first step. If they wanted to earn your respect, it would have to be their necks they stick out first, not the other way around. You finally make your way to the boy holding up one of the newspapers he's selling, shouting today's headline. At your approach his eyes light up at the prospect of a customer,

"What will it be ladies? Two copies or one to share?"

You feel a little guilty at getting his hopes up, but you dust off one of your best customer service smiles and watch as he takes it in, a bit shocked at the easy generosity of it. Poor boy's probably used to getting snuffed all day, you can relate, having worked your fair share of minimum wage jobs.

"I'd like to check something actually, just a quick peak at the date if you wouldn't mind?" Comes your question dressed heavily in your matching costumer service voice -- tone smooth and low and friendly.

The boy blinks at you a moment -- stunned, then his cheeks promptly color a splotchy red. Thoroughly flustered he glances at Mary-Beth, but his blush only deepens as she hits him with a lovely smile of her own.

"W-Well I --," The boy begins to stutter.

"I don't even have to hold it," You interrupt before he can refuse, taking advantage of him being caught off guard, "But if I could just take a quick gander at the top right corner there..." You trail off as you do exactly what you're currently suggesting, and lean in slightly to squint at the date.

May 17, 1899, it reads.

1899?! You kick your customer service skills into overdrive, years of using it the only reason why your face doesn't crack into full panic as you force yourself to read a little more.  

The State of New Hanover, The Heart of the Heartlands

This is before they officialized the fifty states, the American civil war happened about three decades ago. Oh god.

"H-Hey are you gonna buy or not?" The boy attempts to assert himself, swinging the newspaper behind him, looking adorable with his face the color of a tomato.

"Unfortunately not, but your kindness is very much appreciated." You sooth, voice like honey, as you give him one last smile -- making it as stunning as possible, before turning away and heading back down the street.  

You make it a few strides out of the boy's ear shot before Mary-Beth elbows you gently in the side. Glancing up, you find her giving you a conspiratorial smirk.

"You never told us you could work a man," She remarks, raising one of her eyebrows in arch amusement.

You can't stop yourself from scoffing, "Man? He was barely thirteen."

"Well either way, I can tell you have a lot of experience handling people."

A shrug serves as your answer, you guess working a minimum wage job does leave you with a certain skill set. Though why Mary-Beth is hinting that it can be utilized in more unconventional ways is beyond you. Eventually you both make it to the general store. You stumble in your stride when you spot Arthur and Uncle sitting on a bench out in front of the store, sharing a large glass bottle of strong looking liquor you assume is whiskey. That's what all the cowboys in the movies drink right? It seems fate loves a good cliché.

For the first time since being tied to the tree, Arthur and you lock eyes. The two of you freeze, Arthur mid drink and you mid step. The whole world seems to grind to a halt as your gazes wrestle, the feeling in your stomach akin to the breath before the first drop of a roller coaster. The moment ends abruptly, before either of you are ready, and at the same time you step in a huge pile of shit, Arthur spills nearly the whole bottle of whiskey down the front of his shirt.

"Fuck!" You squeal in disgust.

"Goddammit!" Arthur curses loudly as he shoots to his feet so the alcohol doesn't splash onto his crotch.

Mary-Beth puts a scandalized hand over her heart at the fowl language, and Uncle coughs his way into a fit of laughter. In a squeamish panic you try in vain to wipe the shit off your shoe, though you only manage to make it worse as the mud proves to be even messier and smears the shit higher up the leather of your shoe. You can hear Arthur continuing to grouch and curse as he shoves the bottle at a wheezing Uncle and leans forward, plucking the fabric of his button-up off his chest in an attempt to stop it from sticking. Almost like an afterthought, Arthur begins flapping the shirt gently as if that'll help it dry faster.

"Better get you some new shoes as well," Mary-Beth suggests through a tight throat, trying her best not to laugh at your expense.

You level her with a very unimpressed glare (which does end up making her giggle) and squash your way to the stairs leading to the store. Once on solid ground you amble your way up onto the deck, trying your hardest not to stare at the sliver of exposed torso Arthur is revealing as he continues to hold his shirt off his stomach, the cotton completely soaked in alcohol.

Taught skin, a trail of hair, a muscled iliac furrow...

"Actually, Y/n?" Mary-Beth calls from behind you, you swivel around and realize belatedly that she hadn't followed you up, "I'm going to check on Karen an' Tilly in the saloon, why don't you an' Arthur go purchase some clothes together? Then we can all meet back up later!"

It shocks you that you feel slightly betrayed by her at the suggestion. You chance a glance at Arthur from the corner of your eye and find him staring at Mary-Beth much like a deer stares at headlights. Great. You valiantly reign in a groan and without another word, turn back around to push your way into the shop. Arthur is least likely to do anything harmful to you in front of a witness like a shopkeeper anyway, the sooner you get this over with the better.

--

Arthur spends another moment squinting suspiciously at Mary-Beth, who only smiles innocently at him before all but skipping off towards the saloon. Uncle has now devolved into slapping his knee in between taking swigs of what's left of the whiskey. Arthur wonders why the Almighty sees fit to test him so vehemently. After a moment of reflection he figures its the least he deserves considering the extent of his sins. Grumbling to himself, he tries not to stomp after her into the general store, mentally calculating how much money he has left on him as he shoulders open the stiff door. Upon entering the shop, the owner looks up and gives Arthur a polite if slightly confused wave -- probably recognizing him from when Arthur came in the shop earlier with Uncle. The shopkeeper promptly goes back to describing, with what sounds like great enthusiasm, various different outfits for...Y/n...to consider.

His heart reels at simply saying her name in the privacy of his own mind.

She's holding herself stiffly, probably as uncomfortable as Arthur is and for as many different reasons as Arthur is too. With the way her head is bent and her eyes track the movement of the shopkeeper's finger as he drags it across page after page, he can tell that despite her studious expression and how easily she nods along with what's being advertised to her, she's overwhelmed. Arthur isn't sure how he figures that exactly, but he does. Fighting with himself for a moment, he debates on whether or not he should insert himself into their conversation. He doesn't want her to misinterpret him and think he cares or anything, but she is taking forever and the slide of his wet shirt against his chest is growing more unbearable by the second.

"Just pick what you like best and get on with it," He grumbles at her, not too unpleasantly as to alarm the shop owner, but firm enough to encourage her to hurry the hell up.

Arthur had taken a few steps forward before speaking, it placed him very close to her side. Closer than he'd meant. He expects fear or hatred to color her expression as she turns to look up at him, but instead her face displays a confusing mix of gratitude, deep mistrust, and most hilariously the embodiment of the word: HELP. It honestly gives Arthur a headache to look at, not envious of the turmoil she's clearly experiencing right now in the slightest. He blinks at her for a moment before shifting his gaze down at the catalogue and flipping back a few pages.

"Do you prefer skirts, dresses, or pants?" Arthur bites out, not quite believing he's doing this, and stares pointedly at anything but her.

"Pants!" She answers in a rush, like she'd just been told she'd inherited a few grand from a dead relative.  

"Okay," Arthur drawls as he quickly finds the female pants section, the options limited to two different cuts, both of which look exactly the same to Arthur but he was never one for fashion (or so Dutch tells him).

"Pick," He instructs, sliding the catalogue back under her nose at the same time she leans in to take a look.

Arthur's temper rankles at how nice the warmth radiating off of her feels against the chilled skin of his chest, even through his soaked shirt. She takes a moment to consider the two different pants, and after what sounds like a defeated huff sheepishly points to the second one. The shop keeper nods and scribbles something down on a notebook he'd grabbed from a drawer behind the counter. Wordlessly Arthur then flips to the significantly more diverse selection of shirts and blouses, blushing furiously as he passes the women's undergarments.

Why in all hell had Mary-Beth not done this with her? She's a woman, surely that would make this more comfortable for Y/n?

But the woman in question seems unconcerned as she scans the options Arthur has displayed for her, nibbling half-heartedly on the fingernail of her right thumb as she appraises the many different tops. Arthur grits his teeth against the softness rising him. They need to hurry this up or he fears he'll...he'll...well he doesn't know, but he knows whatever it is, it's a final kind of feeling and god Arthur fears it. With the hand not pressed to her lips, she points to a plain looking button up, the cheapest one.

"Another." Arthur blurts.

He doesn't realize how that sounds until she shoots him a very indignant look.

"Pick one more for colder weather." He clarifies, mystified he had managed to say that without missing a beat and without stuttering.

Her temper relaxes back down to its usual simmer and she returns her gaze to the catalogue. After a few moments of silence she taps Arthur's hand that's spread wide over the upper edge of the book, calloused fingers holding the catalogue open flat on the counter for her. He snatches his hand back so fast it startles the shopkeeper. The owner gives the two of them an odd look but remains quiet, still wanting their money. She turns the page and points to the second least expensive shirt. It's of a similar cut to the first she'd chosen but the material is wool instead of cotton.

This process repeats for the coats, socks, shoes, gloves, and most embarrassingly -- undergarments. All the articles of clothing she chooses are the cheapest available. Something prickles in Arthur's chest when he realizes she's trying to be considerate. When the shopkeeper asks about her sizes though, she seems at a complete loss for what to say. It's like she's never shopped for clothes before. Though deeply curious, Arthur refrains from asking her anything, feeling like all the energy he had this morning has been thoroughly drained from him even though its only an hour past noon. He's exhausted and he doesn't quite know why.

The owner gives her a measuring look, eyeing her body proportions as best as he can from his spot behind the counter. The shopkeeper is not a proper tailor, so the wrinkle in the man's forehead isn't anything but confusion, and thus Arthur finds himself getting more and more agitated the longer the man stares at her. A breath before Arthur says something stupid, the owner turns and goes to retrieve the garments in the sizes he believes will fit her best. It only takes a couple moments, but its a couple moments too long to be left relatively alone with her. The tension between them is so palpable he could cut it with his hunting knife. The feeling worsens in intensity with each beat of his heart, nearly rising to insurmountable levels before it swiftly plateaus at the arrival of the shopkeeper, who returns with multiple garments draped over his forearm.

"Here Miss, go and try these on to make sure they fit." He instructs politely, nodding to a door down the hall just around the side of the counter.

With a quiet thanks, she collects the clothes and makes a beeline for the dressing room. Arthur doesn't realize his eyes follow her retreat, sticking to the dressing room door even after she disappears behind it, until the shopkeeper clears his throat. Arthur only scowls at him in response and orders a replacement shirt for the one he'd been wearing.

Thank god I didn't ruin my blue one, Arthur thinks as he pays for his new two toned muted grey and red button-up, and all the items Y/n had gotten.

Hosea and Dutch like to tease Arthur about his favorite blue and white striped button-up he's been hauling around for years now. It has holes, the seams are loose, the colors have faded, and it has permanent stains on it, but something about it feels...comfortable. More comfortable than anything else he's ever worn.

(Arthur refuses to acknowledge the fact that it's the first garment of clothing he bought for himself with money he'd earned all on his own, hence why it means so much to him.)

Arthur tries not to pace as he waits for Y/n to finish trying on all her various new clothes. He knows she has a lot to get through but --

"Oh," Arthur finds himself saying, easily gaining the shopkeeper's attention, "Her shoes?"

The shopkeeper raises a finger as his memory sparks and quickly goes to retrieve the humble looking pair she'd picked out earlier. When he brings them out, informing Arthur he'd given his best guess on the size, Arthur nods his thanks and takes the pair from him. Before he can second guess himself, he makes his way over to the dressing room door. Weary of the owner's eyes on his back, Arthur raps his knuckles in two deliberate consecutive knocks against the aging wood of the door. A series of sounds that suggest Y/n had been thoroughly startled puts a grin on Arthur's face without his permission.

"Your shoes," He starts, "I'm leaving them outside the door."

Arthur then demands himself to tell her to hurry up, but no words form, in fact his lips once again act against his will and gently press shut.

"Oh, okay," She replies tensely.

He hovers by the door another moment before the intimacy of talking to someone -- a woman no less -- like this really registers with him, then he thinks of how this probably seems to the shopkeeper and deep color promptly rises along his cheekbones. Arthur takes a shaky step back, then another, until he's in the front of the store pretending to browse the meager collection of pocket watches.

--

You wait until you hear Arthur's footsteps fully recede from the door before continuing to fumble with your undergarments. You have never so desperately wished for a simple modern bra in your life. The shopkeeper had suggested a corset of some sort, but with the clothes that you had picked -- pants, and a 'decidedly unfeminine looking' set of button ups according to the owner -- wearing a corset under all that seemed more of a hinderance than anything else. You'd ended up choosing a version of whatever shift thing you are currently wearing, as it provided enough support for the girls but didn't constrict you entirely like you figure a corset might. Most of the time spent in the dressing room has been you struggling to shuck off your current clothes without resorting to simply tearing them all off. Though you have been spending an equally egregious amount of time trying to correctly adjust all the little strings and ties and clips of your new shift. The slim bloomers you are wearing were made to be worn with the pants you'd ordered, and they were simple enough to slip on, though the extra fabric you'd have to get used to. You wonder idly if this is what it feels like to wear boxers as you finally finish securing your shift and pull the pants up the length of your legs. They fit surprisingly well, a little tight around the ass but in all honesty, at this point you don't care. You just want this torture over with.

The rest of your clothes you try on with more ease, everything fitting okay except for the coat that was about ten times too big but you find you kind of like it that way. Making sure to carefully remove your shit covered shoes without dirtying your hands, you gingerly place them by the door before replacing your used socks with your new ones. You gather your previous clothes up, hoping the shopkeeper has a bag of some kind you can use, and open the door. Infinitely grateful that no one else has walked into the shop, you quickly slip on the shoes Arthur has set neatly in front of the door like he'd said, and immediately find that they're too small. Ignoring your slight flush from all the changing and nerves from trying on so many foreign clothes, you approach the shopkeeper and politely request the next shoe size up. He nods and bumbles to the back again. When he brings you the next pair, you apologize for being such a hassle and quickly exchange shoes. You drop the new pair to the floor and lower to kneel as you stuff your feet in, praying these fit.

"Can we get something to wrap all this up?" Arthur's voice rumbles through you, like the bass notes of a song played at one of the clubs you used to frequent a lot your first year of college.

You clench hard against the urge to jump at how close he is, not having heard him come over as you'd been focused on figuring out how your new boots laced up. They reminded you a little of modern day men's work boots, comfortable and well suited for all the wilderness trudging you figure you'll be doing. The shop owner hands Arthur a few sheets of brown parcel paper, which Arthur immediately tosses down at you. You catch the squares of paper before it hits your face, ignoring his rudeness and weighing how helpful he's been to you in the shop against the desire to say something satisfyingly nasty.

Noticing your restraint Arthur wordlessly brushes past you, broad shoulders barely seeming to fit through the doorway of the dressing room, before closing the door firmly shut behind him. While he changes out of his wet shirt, you struggle to wrap up all your new clothes neatly, feeling bizarrely like you're wrapping a Christmas present when the shopkeeper hands you a rudimentary string to tie everything together. After you finally manage to wrangle all the clothes (save for your oversized coat and all that you're wearing out of the store) into a compact enough bundle, you take the second sheet of paper and repeat the process with your soiled clothes and ruined shoes. You feel bad about the shoes since you'd borrowed them, maybe you could scrub out the shit? Though you don't know how plausible that will be without the aid of stain remover and fabric softener.

You've just finished organizing all your belongings when Arthur emerges from the dressing room in his new shirt. The colors suit him, the fabric hugging him in all the right places too. With his dark hat, tan over coat, and heavy footfalls due to his boots, he almost --

Deeply alarmed at the direction that particular train of thought was going, you angrily remind yourself he's a bloodthirsty killer who would not hesitate to end your life if he thought it was necessary. Despite all that though, he did just pay for your clothing and help you navigate the shopping process with little to no complaints. Torn between saying nothing and thanking him, the habit to be courteous, ingrained in you by your mother, wins out.

"Arthur," It's the first time you've said his name, at least in direct address to him.

His name tastes dangerous on your tongue, a thrill not unlike taking a shot of something strong knowing you're already well over your alcohol limit. You'd stopped once you'd stepped out of the shop behind Arthur and he pauses with his back to you, going completely rigid, having just been about to wake up Uncle who lists precariously in a drunk stupor on the bench where you'd both left him.

"Thank you." That's the second time you've thanked this man, not fond of the fact that its slowly becoming a regular occurrence.

Arthur turns around after a moment and his eyes, shaded under the brim of his hat but very much visible now where they'd only been dark with violence before, are the first things your gaze is drawn to. They're really quite a stunning color, blue shot with green, like an ocean tide caught in a shallow tide pool. The brimming emotion in him blunders against the stiff wall of that anger you'd first caught a true glimpse of when you were tied to the tree, it holds an avalanche of sensation back. You marvel briefly at how it's held so much back for so long.

"You owe me thirty-two dollars and thirteen cents." He says in leu of accepting your gratitude with any sort of grace.  

You only glare, already having expected that he'd ask you to pay him back, though you figure it's the very least he could do after watching you suffer for nearly two weeks straight despite being completely innocent with no proof otherwise save their paranoid suspicions. Not to mention being wrongly accused of being an O'Driscoll and almost getting shot in the face by his gang leader for the apparent crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time! Unlike Arthur, you let your emotions flow freely, righteous fury undisguised and plain to see rotting away the last traces of the odd domesticity you'd formed with him in the shop.

"You, are one of the most fucked up assholes I have ever met." You say in a tone of voice you had only ever used with your abusive ex.

Instead of being taken aback at your words, you watch something in him rise to meet your anger -- a broken kind of relief overtaking his features, like he's finally back in his comfort zone. Something he's familiar with, something he's good at. It simultaneously sickens you and breaks your heart. Everything only ever defined in extremes when it comes to him. Before you two can really tear into each other though, the call of your names by a familiar voice pauses the cataclysmic collision that is moments away from occurring.

"Arthur! Y/n!" Mary-Beth pants as she jogs up to meet you both on the shaded deck, "Oh, Uncle! I didn't see him from over there," She huffs out in a laugh as she closes the distance between the three of you.

It doesn't take long for Mary-Beth to pick up on the truly foul mood Arthur and you share. Her face falls.

"Did, did the shopping not go well? I see you've..." She trails off as she takes in your new clothes.

You suspect in an attempt to lighten the mood, she puts her hands on her hips in mock disappointment and shoots Arthur a significant look.

"What in the blazes have you dressed her in Mr. Morgan? She looks like a ranch hand!"

Arthur seems to struggle to swallow the worst of his temper, apparently not wanting to take it out on Mary-Beth.

Oh so Mary-Beth deserves to be spared but not you?

Your bitterness towards him promptly deepens and suddenly you're exhausted. You miss Kieran -- no, actually you miss your home. You miss your own time. You miss your friends and family.  

"Don't look at me, she picked it all out herself!" Arthur deflects, holding his hands up in surrender.

Mary-Beth purses her lips at this claim but does eventually shift her gaze over to you. She immediately notices that your energy has plummeted, but you can't summon the will to care.

"But if you like it Y/n, then that's all that matters!" Mary-Beth rushes to assure, worried her comment about your fashion sense but more so your previous conversation with Arthur is working against her efforts to find some middle ground with you, to start building some semblance of trust.

You let her search your eyes and put together the realization that she failed. In fact you imagine instead of taking one step forward, you've taken three leaps back. But why bother with them anyway? There's no need to deal with these people any more than strictly necessary. You will find a way to return to your own time, and you're determined to figure it out by any means necessary.

--

Thoughts? Share them if you’d like!! xx

Masterlist

[calpops]

barely breathing | c.h.

You and Calum cope with your daughter getting sick and all of the memories it brings back. 

1.5k words

dates with cal masterlist | my masterlist

Copyright © 2021 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

~~~

White walls and uncomfortable plastic chairs invade Calum’s world once more. The sterile smell in the air burns deep and the beep of machines brings him back to six months ago, back to a time before your baby could be in his arms, back to when every breath was a fight for her life. Now his arms are empty once again and worry spirals around him in hazy vision and short breaths.

He knows you’re beside him but even that knowledge isn’t enough to pull him from his panic as white coats rush through the halls. His eyes shut, burning and pushing back tears, and all he can see is Mila smiling up at him from her incubator for the first time, all he can hear is her first giggle at the brush of his finger on her nose. All he wants is to hear her first word and see her first steps.

Calum clutches at the arm of the chair instead of your hand, knowing the force is too much and that the slight bite of pain from white knuckles helps remind him to stay alert. He hears you sigh, maybe yawn, he’s not even sure through the disconnect he still feels. It reminds him of the broken breath you took over the phone when you called earlier in the day. Two words had gotten him to his feet from his lax sitting position on Ashton’s couch. His songwriting journal had fallen to the floor. Mila’s sick. His heart had pounded at the explanation and the next two words you barely managed to utter. Come home. He was out the door before either of you could take another breath.

“She’s gonna be okay.”

Calum hears your voice and he rationalizes with your words and finally knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end of something that feels so far out of reach. He doesn’t know how he convinced you she would be okay when she laid in an incubator, or even how he convinced himself, he doesn’t know why he can’t seem to grapple with that sentiment when her prognosis is less dire. All he knows is numbness. He’s numb to the truth that you speak, numb to the bright lights flashing before him and numb in his fingers and chest and just barely feels your hand settle on his forearm.

“Love, look at me.”

He manages to look up and find concern in your gaze. It’s the same gaze you gave him when he came rushing through the door that afternoon to see Mila in your arms and hear the panic in your voice. She’s barely breathing. Three words and little gasps and wheezes had rushed you both to the hospital with glass walls of worry separating you. It’s the first time he’s looked in your eyes since.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” you tell him, voice soft and trying to be soothing. Calum nods past a shallow breath and feels his shoulders tighten as they shroud in on himself. “You need to breathe. In… and out.”

Your hand runs up and down his arm with each instruction of in and out and within a few minutes he feels again. He feels your fingertips and the honesty in your words and the love in your eyes. The numbness shatters on the tiled floor below when the doctor’s voice cuts through.

“Hoods?” he asks and lets his gaze skirt to both of you when you immediately stand, Calum thankful that you haven’t dropped your hold on his arm. He’s sure it’s the only thing keeping him steady. “You can come see Mila now.”

The walk down the hallway is silent for you and Calum. Harsh lights pool down from above and Calum blinks back the brightness and the burning in his eyes as you both come upon an all too familiar door. You’re not in the same unit as when Mila was born, the NICU two floors above but the sentiment of a hospital room and your child being inside is eerily similar and heartbreaking.

“We have her using a nebulizer,” the doctor says and Calum realizes he’s been talking the entire time; filling the two of you in on how she’s doing. He steels himself and recollects some words. Pneumonia. Asthma. Medicine. Okay. When the door opens and Calum’s eyes land on Mila he feels his breath catch in the back of his throat.

“Can she come home tonight?” Calum hears you ask and he knows he should pay attention, it’s one of the only questions that really matter, but he’s too transfixed on images at present that remind him of the past.

Mila lays still and quiet, the nebulizer giving her medicine to help her heal. But all Calum can see is his newborn daughter taking in oxygen through tubes, the glare of plexiglass form the incubator and an entire life flashing before his eyes. His hand clutches yours as he forces out another deep breath. He can feel himself swaying and zoning in and out on the conversation you hold with the doctor. He’s glad to have you by his side, takes comfort in the soothing motion of your thumb running across the back of his hand. He remembers coaxing you to Mila’s side when she was just days old, encouraging you to reach into the incubator to hold her hand. This time it’s you who gives Calum a push.

With small steps and whispered words he follows your lead to Mila’s side. As soon as he can see her eyes staring up at him he breaks; the glass wall that had been up comes shattering down as he sinks into the chair at her side. He whispers to her and once he starts he can’t stop. He wants her to know that he’s there; a piece of guilt from being away for the day weighing on him unknowingly.

“Cal,” you cut in amongst his mindless blather of I’m here now. He turns to look at you, breath still coming with thought but feels himself ease when your eyes are gentle. “Don’t say that.”

With newfound curiosity Calum looks at you with questions in his eyes. He’s not sure what he’s not supposed to say, words tumbling out without much thought other than of Mila. He’s not sure what not to say or why he shouldn’t say it. You sit by his side, take his hand again and glance at Mila, eyes glossy but strong.

“Don’t blame yourself for not being there,” you finally explain. “It’s not your fault she’s sick. You being there this morning wouldn’t have changed anything. We’d still be here right now.”

Calum nods, rolls his shoulders back and bites his lip through the urge of a sob trying to break through. He understands what you mean and while a part of him can grapple with it and believe it there’s still a hairline fracture of doubt that threatens to break him again. He knows you can see it and appreciates you continuing to talk him away from the shards of broken glass.

“She was fine this morning. Smiling and giggling. It just happened, Cal. One second she was fine and the next she was coughing. You came rushing back. You’re always there for her. Never doubt that.”

A deep breath finally escapes Calum and belief floods him in its place. Your reassurance calms the stormy thoughts in his mind. The reminder of Mila’s smile and giggles replaces images of an incubator and fights for life. His grip on your hand tightens and he motions for you to come closer; you abandon your own chair and settle into his lap and arms. Calum decides this is okay, that the only way it will be better is once you’re all back at home, sitting in the rocker of Mila’s nursery with both of you in his arms.

“Did he say she can go home tonight?” Calum asks, finally finding his voice though it does shake with the effort. “I wasn’t listening.”

Your laughter makes the drab hospital room a little lighter. The kick of Mila’s foot in recognition of the noise makes Calum’s heart and worries a little less heavy.

“Yes. They’re going to finish her dose of medicine and then send us home with everything we need to take care of her.”

“Good. That’s good,” Calum mumbles and buries his face against your shoulder. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off of Mila but he needs a moment to remind himself that you’re there too.

Calum finds himself able to breathe and listen the next time the doctor comes in, finds that his need to be with Mila ends with him holding her from the hospital and sitting with her in the car as you head home. His only want, to sit in the rocker and have you both, comes to light as the moon shines through sheer curtains.

“I’m taking tomorrow off,” Calum says as the sway of the rocking chair guides Mila into sleep, her comfort in your arms insurmountable. “We were supposed to go to the studio but she’s more important.”

You can’t argue with that. Nor would you ever want to.

~~~

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[blackssuunn-mandoandyodito]

I'm No Good

A Javier Peña one shot

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Warnings: angst (maybe heavy), mentions of sex, mentions of dead, suicidal thoughts, che*ting, pain, heartbreak. Let me know if I should add something.

A/N: Hello! I'm back! I don't expect this to get many notes but I'm happy I'm finally posting something new even if it's not BDET or TyB, even if it's as dark as this. I hope you enjoy it or the pain it brings you XD Masterlist

Summary: Should it really surprise you? Everybody expected it, everyone told you it was bound to happen. It doesn't make it hurt any less though.

You really should have seen it coming. And, maybe you did, maybe you knew all along this was going to happen, but you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it. 

Every single person had told you it was just a matter of time. Your friends, your colleagues, hell, even his friends looked at you with pity when they saw the two of you together. He’s no good for you, he’s no good for anyone. It had been drilled again and again in your mind, said by many different voices with different tones. Some were angry, some others were just resigned. But still, you didn’t listen to it. 

The beginning of October feels colder when you walk alone through the streets towards your home, with your hands tucked inside your pockets. Rain is falling around you. Who knew you'd be falling soon too. 

As soon as you put the key inside the lock of your door to open it, you can sense everything is about to go to Hell. You don't have a good enough reason other than a gut feeling, but usually, that is more than enough. 

It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, really, when you open the door to your shared apartment, and the first thing that you hear are moans, followed by the slapping of skin. 

Dread fills your senses, with your eyes wet with tears that will be shed in no time. Before anything else happens, before you have to face what you know is going on in your room with Javier just mere meters away from you, you get inside and close the door as quietly as possible, walking towards the dining table to pick up his badge. 

If you're being honest with yourself, you knew that something was bound to happen, but as time passed you tricked yourself into thinking that Javi was more likely to get killed than to cheat on you. 

Turns out you were wrong.

You can hear his muffled groans through the walls as his thrusts speed up. He's close, you know it because you've been there to feel it, to know the signs. The thought makes you want to throw up, thinking about how those sounds used to fill you with so much pleasure and how it only disgusts you now. 

You look over at the small clock in the kitchen. It reads 2 P.M. 

As far as he knows, you should still be at work. You can't help but wonder how many times has he done this or if this is the first time he does it. Has he brought anyone before? Does he always fuck them in your bed and lets you sleep on it at night afterward?

You can picture his face as pleasure contorts it, and you don't want to dwell on it but it seems like that's what you're gonna do. 

You imagine his pretty little grin as he flirted with whoever it is that he picked up, how his eyes shined when she followed him to his car. 

You leave your things on the coffee table between the couches, with your chest burning as you try not to cry.

They're shouting now, probably coming already. Javier's breath stutters as she screams. She's got a high pitched voice, you notice.

Everything was too perfect. He was coming home early, he wasn't as disconnected as he usually is, he'd tell you how much he loves you constantly. That should have tipped you off. 

The apartment goes silent for a few moments. Then, you can hear the bed creak, and both of them fumbling with their clothes. You're too deep in your thoughts to notice when the bedroom door opens, and she walks outside first.

She's beautiful, you realize. Pretty long legs, pretty brown hair. Beautiful smile, you note as Javier pulls her into a kiss, and she smiles against it. 

You're not sure if you should make yourself known, she probably doesn't know who-

"Um, who are you?" she asks. You were right about her voice, but it's not annoying, it's gorgeous. She sounds like a nice person, and you can't really bring yourself to blame her for anything. She had only fallen for someone who is not what he seems to be, just like you.

You feel numb as all blood drains from Javier's face. 

"You still have hours at work." He says, panic hidden beneath the calm demeanor he's trying to portray. 

No, you're not numb. Your heart is on your throat and your eyes burn, and it's painful. 

"Are you his girlfriend? Oh my god, she is, isn't she? I'm sorry, I swear he didn't tell me anything." You really can't bring yourself to hate her, not when she seems so angry and disappointed. You shake your head and try to smile at her, but it probably looks more like a grimace than anything else. It pains you to see the pity on her eyes.

"You should just leave," Javier tells her. She turns around and glares at him, and you think she's about to slap him but thinks twice about it.

"I can't believe I didn't figure it out since the first time." You hear her mutter as she walks away and opens the door to leave.

Well, that answers the other question.

Both of you stand in the middle of the room, with his eyes cast downwards and yours still glued to the door.

You're not sure if what they were doing could be called dating, but they sure weren't hookups only. It just makes everything suck more.

You feel like you're about to crumble to the ground, and this time there will be no one to pick you up.

You make your way to the couch and sit down before you fall, staring at the photo of the two of you that's facing down to the table. There are too many thoughts running through your head to make any sense of them.

He says your name.

And a tear runs down your cheek. You don't do anything to keep the others that follow from falling.

"What?" you turn your head and look at him. At the man you had trusted your heart with and still had gone and crushed it to pieces.

He searches your face, your eyes. It makes you wonder how bad you look that it seems to scare him. 

There's a heavy silence hanging in the air. Javier doesn't dare speak because even if he knew what to say, he knows nothing is going to make this better. 

He's wracking his brain to think of something to tell you when you silently stand up and walk to your room, and the door softly clicks closed behind you. 

He hears doors opening and closing, pulling drawers. At first, it's calm, then things start being smashed to every surface and something falls with a heavy sound to the floor. 

Still, you don't make a sound. Minutes pass, he doesn't know how many. A little box hidden inside the desk in his office is screaming at him.

When he walks to knock, you open the door.

It terrifies him, how okay you look. Your eyes are red from crying and there are drying traces of tears down your face. Other than that, you don't look like you just wrecked everything inside what once was your shared room.

His eyes fall to the suitcase that looks seconds away from exploding, reality finally downing on him.

"What are you doing?" he sounds panicked as he stupidly asks, with the emotions finally bubbling to the surface. 

You look at him with nothing showing on your features. He raises his hand to touch your face, and you flinch away. He holds back tears that don't deserve to be shed.

"You can't leave me." His heart is in his throat and the pounding on his ears tunes out the pathetic tone his words carry. 

You want to scream, to hit him, and try to make him feel even an ounce of the pain you're going through. It's pointless, you know that, so you don't do anything.

"Please don't leave me." 

He throws his arms around you and grips you tight against him, afraid that if he lets go, he will lose you forever. It seems he hasn't realized he already did.

You let him, not doing anything to push him away or pull him close. He buries his face in your neck, sobbing and crying and begging you to stay. You can't make sense of his words anymore, trying to distinguish between truths and lies is too exhausting. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please, I-"

You grip his arm with force, trying to pry it away from your body. He doesn't want to hurt you, so he lets you.

When he pulls away, with his face wet and his entire body shaking, you caress his cheek with so much love it breaks him all over again. He doesn't understand how you're not disgusted to touch him.

And when you cross the threshold with your suitcase gripped tight between your fingers, Javier feels his life ending. 

He tries to trick himself into thinking that he's free now, he can sleep with whoever he wants whenever he wants.

But when he's on a mission, sometimes he "forgets" to use the bulletproof vest. When the new disease starts going around, he doesn't use a condom when he fucks. Everything in his life is a suicide mission, and something inside him tells him that he hasn't been successful yet because dead is too easy, and he doesn't even deserve that.

[captain--sif]

Lift me up

Words: 5.5k Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Maddie Buckley Additional Tags: minor Evan "Buck" Buckley & Maddie Buckley, minor Eddie Diaz & Christopher Diaz, Trapped In Elevator, Elevatorstuck, Elevators, Flirting, Pining, Alternate Universe - Apartment Building, 5+1 Things, beta read by grammarly, Fluff, no angsty elevator drama, No Angst, just waiting Summary:

 They are both intently staring at the lights changing from one number to the next. Then the elevator comes to a halt and Buck assumes he’ll soon be alone. But instead of pushing away from the wall, the other man is just furrowing his brows. Then Buck realizes the door isn’t opening. His eyes flit back to the current story: Four. That’s not where any of them wanted to get off. Buck groans. “I think we’re stuck.” Buck laughs a humorless laugh. “Shit.”

Buck gets stuck in his apartment building's broken elevator with his good-looking neighbor from the sixth floor.

for @lydiabennetts whose fault it is that I wrote this fic. All the descriptions of being stuck in an elevator are based off of my own experiences. I obviously can't talk for all elevators 🤣

Read the full fic on AO3, wattpad or under the cut.

It’s late , is all Buck is thinking when he’s opening the door to his apartment building. I promised Maddie I’d be on time.

He’s cursing his boss internally.

For a second, he’s contemplating taking the stairs as he knows he’d be faster running up the stairs than waiting for the elevator. But then he’d probably have to shower and he really doesn’t have the time to do that right now.

So he trots to the elevator instead, pushing the button more than just a few times for good measure.

“I don’t think it makes the elevator come down here faster,” a male voice says and when Buck looks up there’s an amused smile curling around the lips of the man who’s coming towards him.

Buck recognizes him: About as tall as him, short brown hair, probably a few years older, decently attractive (not that Buck has been looking). He thinks he’s living a story or two below him. Buck instantly resents him for the comment.

“It doesn’t hurt either,” Buck replies and sees the other man recoil at his sour tone. It’s probably immature but Buck doesn’t care. Why should he care about what some neighbor thinks of him? All he cares about at the moment is not to get late to Maddie’s.

The elevator doors slide open and Buck pushes the button with the number eight in passing, paying his neighbor no mind. He enters just behind Buck, pressing the six. Buck’s gloating a little internally over being right. Childish, yes.

He leans back against the wall of the elevator, his neighbor doing the same on his right. There’s not much space in these city apartment elevators.

They are both intently staring at the lights changing from one number to the next. Then the elevator comes to a halt and Buck assumes he’ll soon be alone. But instead of pushing away from the wall, the other man is just furrowing his brows. Then Buck realizes the door isn’t opening. His eyes flit back to the current story: Four. That’s not where any of them wanted to get off. Buck groans.

“I think we’re stuck.”

Buck laughs a humorless laugh. “Shit.”

His neighbor steps towards the panel, presses and holds the emergency button. The tone it makes when it connects is obnoxious, but it doesn’t keep Buck’s thoughts from drifting away. He’ll be late to Maddie’s , is all he can think. Again.

“Please try putting your flat hands on the door and pushing it closed,” the person on the other side instructs them, and his neighbor steps towards the door to do as told. Buck watches but nothing happens. He sighs in frustration. Maddie will kill him.

“I’ve sent a technician your way. They’ll be at your place in around an hour to an hour and a half, depending on traffic. Is everything okay healthwise?”

His neighbor looks at Buck, who nods dumbly. He’s okay. He’s just gonna be at Maddie’s an hour late. He thumps his head against the wall behind him.

The worker disconnects and Buck’s neighbor looks at him. “Better tell that person you were rushing to that you’re late. Let me guess: Girlfriend? Parents? ”

Buck shakes his head.

“Boss?” he guesses again.

“Sister,” Buck replies and slides down to sit on the floor. The other man’s eyes follow him.

He takes out his phone, searches for Maddie’s contact and calls her.

 “You’re late because you’re stuck in the elevator?” Maddie asks him incredulously and Buck starts to relax. She’s not mad she’s… laughing at him.

“Please laugh at my misery,” he quips, which only makes her laugh more.

Shifting to a more serious tone she asks: “But you’re okay?”

Buck answers in the affirmative and then proceeds to roll his eyes when she proceeds to fuss around his well-being. His neighbor huffs a laugh at that.

“I’m hanging up now,” Buck warns her. More softly: “But I’ll come around later.”

He lowers the phone.

“How much time remains?” he asks.

His neighbor looks at his watch. “At least forty minutes.”

Buck sighs.

“You got something with you to do during that time? A book?”

Buck lifts his phone with a smirk. “The internet is right here.”

His neighbor laughs and maybe Buck doesn’t resent him anymore. He has a nice smile. Buck wouldn’t mind looking at it for a while longer.

Then he takes out his own phone. “I guess I could play some games on my phone too.”

Buck raises his eyebrows. “You don’t look like someone who plays mobile games.”

The furrowed brows from earlier are back and Buck misses his smile. “I don’t know which way to take that.”

Then he adds: “Everyone plays mobile games.”

Now it’s Buck’s turn to furrow his brows. “They do?”

His neighbor laughs again.

It’s silent for a while and Buck starts scrolling through social media. They sit in companionable silence until the voice from earlier breaks it.

“Are you still feeling well?”

They do, they assure them and they disconnect again. Another twenty to fifty minutes. Buck sighs.

The other man lowers himself to sit down on the floor next to him, putting his phone down on the ground.

“So,” he starts, “you’re gonna go to your sister after we’re out of here?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice that you live so close to each other.”

“Yeah, it is,” Buck agrees, “It’s nice to have her around.”

“I have two sisters myself,” his neighbor shares, “they still live in El Paso, where my parents live. I don’t see them very often.”

Buck nods. “Maddie’s only recently moved here but it’s been nice. Having family near.”

He gets a nod in reply.

Then it’s silent again.

The voice checks in with them a few more times before the elevator finally starts moving again.

“Have a nice evening with your sister,” his neighbor wishes him when he gets off on the sixth floor.

“You too,” Buck replies when the doors close.

He calls Maddie again. “The elevator’s moving. I’ll be there soon.”

   Buck’s on his way to work. He’s not running late but he also doesn’t have a whole lot of time to catch his bus. The usual.

The elevator is stopping on the sixth floor and Buck’s heart stops, thinking the elevator broke again. But then the doors open and one of his neighbors from the sixth floor is walking into the elevator. The neighbor he was actually stuck with. Buck laughs to himself.

“What’s so funny?” his neighbor asks, amusement playing around his lips. It’s the same expression that made Buck resent him initially. Buck’s come to appreciate it now.

“Ah, nothing,” Buck replies sheepishly.

“On your way to work?”

Buck nods.

“Me too.”

The doors close, and they’re moving. But not for long.

Buck looks at the lights in disbelief, then at his neighbor, who’s matching his expression. Only the scowl is new.

Buck waves at him. “You know the drill,” he says, and his neighbor gets to work on the door.

Again, nothing happens, so he presses and holds the emergency button.

The call connects and they go through all the steps again, the person on the other side reminding them that the crazy scenes they see in movies won’t happen and that they are totally safe. That the elevator can’t fall. 

A technician will be there in an hour.

“I felt safer before the reminder,” Buck comments once they disconnect.

His neighbor laughs and again, Buck is quite pleased with himself.

Then he slides off his jacket, laying it on the floor, and pushes up the sleeves of his shirt over his forearms, before sitting down on the jacket.

Buck shrugs and sits down on his side of the elevator.

His neighbor turns to him. “If this becomes a pattern it might be nice to know each other’s names. I’m Eddie.”

“Buck,” Buck replies, and “it’s not a pattern yet.”

Eddie lifts his brows.

“One’s chance,” Buck recounts, “two’s coincidence, three’s a pattern. We’re at two now.”

Eddie laughs at him, and Buck is reminded why he started liking it.

“We’re on our best way to make it a pattern though,” he points out and Buck replies with a shrug.

Eddie leans his head against the elevator wall behind him. “I’ll have to call in late to work.”

At this reminder, Buck mimics him. “Oh shit,” slips out of his mouth, “me too.”

They both get out their phones to do the calls and Buck thinks that, no matter how much it sucks to call your boss, their calls will at least pass some time. It’s better than to just sit around and do nothing.

After they finish their calls, they sit around in silence for a few minutes, fiddling with their phones and staring at the walls.

“Ah!” Buck exclaims excitedly, “I downloaded a mobile game.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, questioningly. “You did?”

Sheepishly Buck ducks his head, both at his not very subtle attempt at doing conversation, as well as the confession he was about to make. “The last time we were stuck in this elevator…”

Eddie huffs a laugh at that.

“... you said everyone played them. And well, I hadn’t so far. So I did some research.”

Eddie widens his eyes incredulously. “You did research? On mobile games?”

“Shut up,” Buck laughs, ”it’s not my area of expertise.”

Eddie shakes his head.

“So I downloaded Hay Day.”

“You downloaded Hay Day.” Eddie seems to ponder over it. Then he tilts his head. “Do you like it?”

“It’s surprisingly fun,” Buck admits, “but I don’t like the long waiting times.”

“Yeah,” Eddie huffs, “that’s how they try to get your money.”

“ Right? ” Buck latches onto it. “Why make the game free if you’re gonna charge for everything anyway? Just make people pay for it up front!”

“I can’t believe people spend thousands of dollars on that.” Eddie shakes his head. “But I assume that is exactly the reason. How much does a game cost on a console? Maybe sixty dollars, possibly eighty. They can [probably] get a lot more this way.”

“Yeah. I still prefer consoles. You can keep your mobile games.”

Eddie opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again before a word can leave it. Instead, he chuckles.

“I hope your meeting with your sister was nice the other night.”

Buck furrows his brows at that obvious change of subject but it’s not more sudden than his exclamation about mobile games earlier, so he goes along.

“It was,” he reassures Eddie, “Maddie is a big fan of wine and I’ve been getting cooking lessons, so we’ve made it a thing of proving our knowledge to each other. I’m choosing the recipe to prove I can indeed cook, and she chooses a fitting wine to prove she knows her wine.”

“Does it work?” Eddie asks and Buck shrugs.

“Most of the time.” He laughs. 

They jolt when the voice comes back through the speakers to check in with them and inform them of the technician's progress.

Buck starts laughing once they disconnect, Eddie joining in soon.

Once they calmed down, Eddie worries his lip with his teeth.

“I’m not a good cook,” he admits, “it’s one of the things my parents have always been criticizing.”

Buck shoots him a sympathetic glance, extending his legs for as far as possible in the small elevator.

“I haven’t been until recently either.” A shrug. “And if I was still talking to mine, they’d have probably bugged me about it too. But it’s been fun to learn.”

Contemplating, he tilts his head. “You say that like they criticize you a lot.” 

Eddie huffs. “Yeah. I don’t think I can do anything right in their eyes.” He shrugs. “But I don’t wanna bore you with that.”

“Oh, you aren’t,” Buck rushes. For a second, none of them speaks. “Is that why you moved so far away from them?”

“One of the reasons,” Eddie nods and Buck can’t help but nod along.

“Yeah.”

It feels shorter this time, surprising them both when the emergency worker connects to tell them the technician is there and will soon get the elevator to work again.

They get up, slowly, collecting their things, stretching their limbs. It moves, and they both exhale in relief, sharing a smile.

“Let’s not make this a pattern,” Buck says when they leave, though he has the suspicion that he doesn’t quite mean it.

Eddie laughs at that and shoots him an “I’ll see you around.” when they part ways in front of their apartment building.

    Bread, Buck thinks. Mayonnaise. Cucumber. Eggs. The elevator doors slide open and Buck goes over his grocery list another time while stepping inside and pressing the zero button. Bread. Mayonnaise. Cucumber. Eggs.

The doors close after him, then opening up again as soon as they touch the other side of the door frame.

Buck groans, stepping towards the panel again and pressing down on the “Close door” one.

It closes and Buck leans against the wall at the other end of the elevator, closing his eyes and waiting for all eight floors to pass by.

But then the door opens again and Buck really wishes he had taken the stairs today. He’s about to get out of the elevator to do so after all when he hears someone with crutches coming into the elevator and opens his eyes to see his neighbor, Eddie , coming in.

Eddie looks tense, subtly, but Buck is good at reading people and associated with the crutches he heard, he’s about to ask if Eddie’s okay.

But then he looks down and his eyes land on a small boy. His hair is longer and a lot lighter than Eddie’s but the resemblance is nevertheless unmistakable.

Before he can think better of it, he blurts out: “I didn’t know you had a son.”

Of course he didn’t. Despite being stuck together in this same elevator twice, they are still nothing more than strangers who live in the same apartment building. Neighbors who know each other’s names. Buck doesn’t know where this is coming from.

He doesn’t miss how Eddie’s jaw tenses and Buck fears he may have just ruined the tentative friendship? Acquaintanceship? That they formed during their conversations in the elevator.

“That’s Christopher,” Eddie says nevertheless, and then to the boy: “Chris, this is Buck. He lives on the eighth floor.”

“Ah, is he the one you were stuck with in here?”

“Yes,” Eddie agrees, “that’s the one.”

Buck chuckles at that. “I hope I don’t become known as the one people get stuck in elevators with.”

“You got stuck in the elevator with someone else too?” Eddie asks, his tone subdued. Buck thinks something is up with him but he doesn’t know Eddie well enough to feel confident asking about it.

“No,” Buck laughs self-consciously, “but I think I may have just jinxed it.”

As if on demand, the elevator stops moving.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the ceiling and then back to Buck. “I think you just did.”

“Are we stuck?” Christopher asks. 

“Seems like it, buddy.” Eddie is ruffling his hair and Buck’s melting because of the softness in Eddie’s voice.

Buck pushes away from the wall. “So, the usual steps.”

Eddie nods, but before he can reply, Christopher asks: “What are the usual steps?”

“May I?” Buck asks, waiting for Eddie's assent to pass the two of them and put his hands on the door. Christopher’s eyes follow him, so once he’s got his hands in place, he half-turns to look at the boy. “Now I just have to push the door closed.”

Christopher watches as Buck follows up on his words.

Buck doesn’t expect it to change anything, and in fact, it doesn’t, but Christopher’s face lights up when he asks if he can try too. So Buck makes room for him by the door and helps him push after Christopher has given his crutches to his dad to hold.

“Nothing happens,” Christopher states afterwards, disappointment evident in his voice.

“It hasn’t the last two times either. But it’s worth trying.” Buck shrugs and then looks back to Eddie, checking that he’s not overstepping. He’s happy to find a small smile playing on the other man’s lips, the tension from earlier missing in his shoulders.

Christopher motions for his crutches again and Eddie’s quickly handing them over.

When Buck’s leaning back against one of the walls again, his eyes fall on the emergency button.

“I think we should…” he starts, making Eddie follow his line of sight.

Eddie huffs a breath. “Yeah…”

Now it’s Buck who’s standing closer to the elevator panel, so it’s him who steps towards it and presses down, waiting for the call to connect.

He’s answering the usual questions: how many people are inside, if they tried closing the door, how they’re feeling. Buck thinks about how it’s starting to become a routine.

That’s when Eddie says: “I think I’m allowed to call it a pattern now.”

Buck nearly chokes on his laugh.

“No no,” he argues, “the variables have clearly changed. It’s two times I’ve been stuck in an elevator with you, and one time I’ve been stuck in an elevator with you and your son. That doesn’t make three.”

“I assume you don’t have a college degree because you clearly failed math,” Eddie quips and Buck laughs, again.

“I can’t even object to that because I did fail math in college.”

“I’m good at math,” Christopher pipes up, “I got an A on all tests this year.”

“Impressive,” Buck nods in recognition. “You like math?”

“Yes. It’s my favorite subject.”

Christopher talks about it with glee in his eyes and Eddie’s features are equally soft while listening until they contort in a way that is best described by “Oh shit” .

He fumbles for his phone while addressing Buck: “Do you have anyone you have to inform that you’ll be late?”

“Oh no,” Buck shrugs, “I’m just on my way to buy groceries.”

Eddie nods. “I’m gonna have to…” He motions to his phone.

“Yeah, sure.”

Buck and Christopher patiently wait for Eddie to talk to whoever’s on the other side of the line, describing their situation and how long it’ll probably take them.

“I’ll text you if anything changes,” he ends with. There seems to be assent from the other person because soon after they’re disconnecting.

“So,” Buck asks, “who were you supposed to meet?” He thinks of Eddie’s questions the first time they found themselves in this situation. “ Wife? ” he corrects the voice in his head with a thought to Chris.

“Ex-wife,” Eddie answers abashedly.

“Dad is bringing me to mom, so I can spend the weekend with her and grandma,” Christopher shares excitedly.

“Shannon and I divorced two years ago,” Eddie feels the need to explain, “she’s caring for her sick mother, so we decided Chris would stay with me most of the time. Makes it easier for all of us.”

Buck nods. “You seem to have a good relationship with her.”

“We’re trying,” Eddie says with a half-smile, “for Chris.”

“It’s nice,” Buck reiterates, “my sister and her ex-husband split on really bad terms. And let me tell you, that sucks. For everyone involved.”

He swallows, then adds: “So it’s really great that you’re doing the effort for him.”

It’s then that the emergency worker reconnects for the usual check-in.

Afterwards, Eddie offers his phone to Christopher to play some games.

“What are you playing?” Buck asks the boy.

“Hay Day,” Christopher replies, concentrating on the game in front of him.

Buck shoots an amused look towards Eddie who seems to have reverted to his earlier state of discomfort and avoids meeting his eye.

Weird , Buck thinks and hopes he didn’t cause it by asking Christopher about his game.

He makes another try, “Cool! I recently started playing it too.”

“Really?” Christopher looks up at him, beaming, “what’s your farm’s level?”

“Oh, I barely just started, It’s only level thirteen.”

“Mine’s level 47. Look.” Christopher turns the phone over, so Buck can look at his little digital farm.

Buck chances another glance at Eddie, now leaning back and more or less relaxed. Confusing . Buck would love to figure him out.

Conversation comes easy for the rest of their stay. A little tenseness remains in his features but other than that he’s either sharing things with Buck himself or observing Chris talking to Buck. Soon enough, they get out of the elevator, into the corridor on the ground floor. Buck gets the door and holds it open for the two of them. He sees them walking towards a car on one of the parking lots in front of the building, Chris climbing in first. Eddie turns around and looks at Buck, so Buck seizes the moment to walk up to him.

“He’s a great kid,” he says, then follows it up with, “I love kids.”

Eddie smiles. He dips his head towards his car. “I love this one.”

Buck laughs and skips away to finally get his grocery shopping done.

   “Keep the door open for me!” somebody calls out from the corridor and Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t recognize the voice. Instantly, he puts his hand in front of the sensor and, sure enough, Eddie hurries around the corner. He’s alone again and greets Buck with a smile as soon as he sees him.

“Thank you,” he pants.

“In a hurry?” Buck asks him, as the doors close behind him.

Eddie huffs. “No. I just don’t trust the elevator to come back down for me.”

Buck laughs. “Fair point.” After a contemplative dip of his head: “Probably wise, too.”

“We really need a new elevator,” Eddie sighs, “I don’t know what I’m doing with Chris if it breaks down with someone else inside and we have to take the stairs.”

It comes as a surprise to no one when the elevator comes to a halt. Buck and Eddie look at each other.

“Speak of the devil,” Buck breathes.

“I’m starting to think hell might as well actually be a broken elevator.” Eddie sighs.

Buck laughs. “Am I really that bad?”

Eddie’s eyes shoot up to his, red color flooding his cheeks. “I’d rather have met you in a different way but I do like the company.”

Then let’s meet somewhere else , Buck thinks but discards the thought as fast as it came up. He’s not even sure what he meant to offer.

Instead, he changes the topic: “Shall I try the door or do you want to?”

Eddie takes a dazed look at the door behind him before nodding in assent. “I can do it.”

Buck nods and proceeds to watch Eddie while he rolls up his shirt sleeves, puts his hands on the door and pushes it towards the opening. He leans back, expecting the elevator to stay as still as ever.

But for the first time, it actually starts moving again.

Buck nearly jumps in surprise and Eddie continues to stare blankly at the door that his hands are still touching.

Disappointment overcomes Buck and he can’t help but question where that feeling is coming from.

“We didn’t even have to call for the technician.” Eddie’s voice betrays the same feelings that Buck is feeling: confusion and a strange tint of disappointment, and Buck is relieved that he’s not the only one feeling that way.

Still, he got no time to mull that over before the elevator stops on the sixth floor. Eddie’s floor. The other man goes through the door as soon as it opens, but turns around to say goodbye.

Buck could swear Eddie is still standing in front of the elevator and looking at him when the doors are already closing. He tries not to think about it.

   “Are you sure we shouldn’t just take the stairs?” Maddie asks, eyeing the elevator warily.

Buck rolls his eyes while setting down the bags he was carrying. “Sure, if you want to carry all of this, for eight full stories , then please do.”

She sighs as Buck presses the needed button, waiting for the doors to close.

Buck hears the doors open up again after having slid halfway closed; informing him that one of his neighbors is about to step into the elevator with them.

“I don’t trust your elevator not to break down on us.”

Buck huffs. Turning around and seeing that it’s Eddie who joined them, his brows furrowed, Buck decides to reply to his sister’s statement after all. “You might be onto something.”

Buck feels her perking up at that and stepping towards the unfamiliar man.

“So you’re Eddie,” it’s not really a question, and Buck winces. Maddie, unbothered, puts down her own grocery bag and reaches out her right hand to shake his. “I’m Maddie.”

A smile breaks onto Eddie’s face as he takes it “Ah, the infamous sister.”

Maddie nods, pleased. Buck isn’t quite sure what is happening.

“Is it one of your Wine and Dine sibling evenings?” Eddie follows up.

“Yes,” Maddie points at the bag they just set down, “we just came back from the supermarket. Now it’s time to cook.”

“What are you making?”

Buck started to feel like a fifth wheel but now Eddie is unmistakably looking at him.

“Coq au vin.”

Eddie lifts his eyebrows, looking impressed. “Sounds fancy.”

Buck laughs. “We’ll see. I haven’t really tried this recipe yet.”

He means to add another joke about his amateur skills, capitalizing upon Eddie’s demeanor having shifted back to the light-hearted and relaxed state he was in the first few times they met.

He doesn’t expect Maddie to ask: “You want to join us?”

Buck’s choking on his own saliva, trying to send a death glare towards his sister without making Eddie think he dislikes the idea of spending more time with him. He doesn’t. He just doesn’t like Maddie springing this on him without any warning.

Whatever the outcome he’ll have a bone to pick with her.

Even though the color rises into Eddie’s cheek, he keeps his composure. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” he apologizes, “my son is waiting for me at home. And I wouldn’t want to impose on your family time anyway.”

Maddie nods empathetically and shrugs, “maybe next time.”

Buck is so going to kill her for this.

Of course, that’s when the elevator stops moving.

Buck just rolls his eyes while Eddie sighs in exasperation. “You spoke too soon.”

“I didn’t speak this into existence,” Buck teases, “our elevator just sucks.”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth tick up but frustration [leeches] into his smile, “Truer words were never spoken.”

Buck takes note of his sister observing them with something that can only be described as apt fascination while they go through the usual steps to alert the emergency center and get out of this elevator as soon as possible.

“You make quite the team,” she remarks when the emergency worker disconnects.

Eddie shrugs and Buck is surprised that he can recognize that the nonchalance is only pretended, “I guess that’s just a given when this has now happened the fifth time in a row.”

“And it’s always you two?”

Eddie nods and Buck knows it’s a mistake as soon as he sees Maddie’s face.

She shrugs, so faux-casual that Buck doesn’t think even a stranger could miss it, and says: “If I were you, I’d start asking myself if the universe was trying to tell me something.”

“Well, your brother ,” Eddie starts and Buck realizes in alarm that he likes this turn of events even less, “thinks it’s not really a pattern because we haven’t quite been fully stuck in here for at least three times just the two of us.”

Maddie laughs and Eddie smirks at Buck, pleased.

“Now it’s your math that’s skewed,” Buck quips back, “I’m pretty sure we reached the three times just last week.”

“Oh?” Eddie lifts his eyebrows in question, the smile still on his lips, “We didn’t even get to call the emergency call center. You don’t consider that a variable change?”

“That depends on what we define that the action is. If it’s us having to wait for a technician to free us, then yes. If it’s just the elevator breaking down while we’re inside, it’s a no.”

“You never fail to surprise me,” Eddie says and Buck doesn’t think he imagines the fondness reflected on his face and in his voice.

Before he can help himself, he’s winked at him.

Once he realizes what he’s done, he refuses to look at his sister. He can feel her smugness anyway.

“I hear you have a kid,” Maddie asks then, and Buck is happy for the change of conversation before she adds: “Buck loves kids. He’s really good with them.”

“Yeah, he met Christopher already. They have a lot in common.”

Buck gapes at him in mock-offense. “It’s Hay Day! You told me that everyone played Hay Day!”

Now it’s Eddie who winks at him and Buck doesn’t think he’ll get out of the elevator alive this time.

By the time the technician arrives, Buck’s flustered and embarrassed and more than glad to get a breathing pause from the quick succession of bantering with Eddie and teasing from his sister that he’s been subjected to for the last hour. He hopes the last part has been subtle enough for Eddie not to pick up on the full extent of it but Eddie’s attentive, so he can’t say he’s positive.

“He’s cute,” Maddie remarks as they leave the elevator, “and he definitely likes you.”

Buck tries very hard to ignore her, but she’s his sister… She knows all his weak spots.

   There’s a moving van parked in front of his apartment building when he comes home and at first, he doesn’t think anything of it. He has a lot of neighbors and he doesn’t even know most of them. It’s not uncommon for someone to move out or someone new to move in. They do it all the time.

The elevator isn’t working - to no one’s surprise - so Buck takes the stairs. He comes across quite a few people carrying boxes, some smaller, some bigger and he winces in sympathy for whoever’s moving.

When he finally arrives on the sixth floor - only two more to go- he sees that it’s Eddie directing them and his heart stops. 

As quickly as the feeling overcame him, he’s waving it away. Being stranded in their elevator together for a few times does not mean they’re friends or - anything else, really. He’s got no rights to feeling like this.

But he can’t help walking towards Eddie anyway. He figures he can at least say goodbye to him and maybe - maybe even offer his help.

His heart constricts when he sees relief washing over Eddie’s face once he sees him. 

“Buck!” he waves him over. “I hoped to catch you once more before I left.”

“You’re moving?” Buck asks and winces at how sad he sounds. You got no right to feel like this.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, “they refuse to repair the elevator and with Chris, it’s just - it’s not working anymore. We needed a new place with a working elevator.”

“I uh, I get that.” And Buck really does.

He pushes a smile on his face and motions to the object of their talk. “So as our good friend the elevator failed you another time, do you possibly need help carrying those boxes?”

Eddie returns his smile but shakes his head. “I wanted to talk to you about something else, actually.”

Buck thinks there’s nervousness laced into Eddie’s features but he’s so high strung himself that he doesn’t trust himself to interpret the signs correctly.

He nods, unable to speak and Eddie takes a deep breath.

“I really hope I didn’t misread things. I really liked spending time with you, even if it was just in a broken elevator.”

Buck huffs a laugh. “Yeah, we really could’ve met under better circumstances.”

“We really could’ve.”

“Point is,” Eddie continues, “I really like you. And you’re okay with Chris. And… as much as I’m looking forward to leaving this shitty elevator behind, I’m going to miss spending time with you.”

Buck nods, unable to speak, as emotions run towards his eyes. He swallows.

“Me too,” he finally manages to croak out.

“So,” and now Buck is sure he doesn’t imagine the awkwardness in Eddie’s composure, “if that is something you were interested in, I think we could go on a date. Somewhere that is not an elevator.”

“Oh God, yes,” Buck rushes out, the nerves falling off of him. Then he thinks better of it and replies a little calmer. “I’d love that.”

He starts tapping his pockets, looking for a pen but Eddie just reaches over and grabs a sharpie. Buck feels a little bad for writing his number on the side of a cardboard box but Eddie smiles at him and wipes away all his thoughts.

He does end up asking if he can help again and Eddie gives him the box with his own number on it with the words: “Make sure it’s stashed away properly.”

Buck winks at him and bounds down six flights of stairs.

Also find this fic on AO3 and wattpad.