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moonbaby26 · 4 years ago

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Title: Aftermath

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Continuation of previous chapter. Set after the battle with Apocalypse, you and the others are finally picked up from Cairo by allied forces and transported to a nearby aircraft carrier for temporary shelter/debriefing while you try to arrange travel back into the U.S. The reader helps Peter work through the continued emotional fallout from realizations of all that his father Magneto has done.

Warnings: Some cursing. More emotional baggage being unloaded. But also fluff/comfort, and eventual brief makeout session to help with the stress relief.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

——————————

Like Magneto had warned, it’d still been a long time before anyone had come to help. Trying to put back together some semblance of working communication equipment from the remnants of the jet, and whatever they could scavenge from the damaged homes and buildings all around had taken Hank and Moira long enough.

But even when Moira could finally establish renewed contact with the outside world to put out a distress call, finding a U.S. ally willing and even capable to fly into ground zero to pluck all of you out was another matter.

Unfortunately, you had eventually realized that the destruction here in Cairo hadn’t been all there was. Most population centers through the world had been impacted, many of the larger air and naval bases among them. It was hard to say how much had been Apocalypse, and how many had fallen solely because of Magneto though. From the little bit Moira did relay back to you all, the more metal any structure had had in it, the more likely it had ended up decimated.

It was only helicopters that finally came, no runway area available in all the rubble for any larger plane. When the soldiers exited them, you picked up that they were all speaking Greek.

“We’ll all be going to the island of Crete.” Xavier had confirmed, meeting with you all before boarding. “There is an allied naval base there, where U.S. officials will be awaiting to debrief us.”

It was no surprise that he could sense the unease in the majority of you, after all that had occurred the last time you’d been forced into helicopters with men dressed in military fatigues like this.

He had changed then to communicating telepathically with each of you individually, to give the soldiers no chance to overhear. Though the message was the same for everyone. “We will all be split onto only two helicopters. I will be in one, and Jean in the other. If they should even think of anything unsavory, we will, let’s say alter their plans to otherwise. But everyone stay at least paired please as precaution. Together, you are all your own best protection.”

It’d been no question that you would board with Peter. On one helicopter it would end up being the Professor, Moira, Peter, yourself, and the white haired girl you now knew as Ororo Munroe. On the other, Hank, Raven, Jean, Scott, and Kurt.

Ororo had actually been rather nice to talk to, once she was no longer trying to blast you out of the sky anyway. You’d learned she’d been living on the streets of Cairo for quite some time, just stealing to survive before she’d run into Apocalypse by chance when he was first trying to recruit powerful mutants.

When she’d spoken about having no living family, and thereby no desire to stick around in Egypt any longer, Kurt had been the one to excitedly tell her all about the school. Which the Professor had already vowed to rebuild thankfully, inviting Ororo immediately should she wish to join you all.

Gladly, she accepted, and by the time the soldiers were sliding the helicopter doors closed, the sun was finally setting. The interior lighting was already dim, as you glanced over to Peter in the growing darkness, seated together on bench like seats along the inner hull. He’d been waiting until the very last moment you thought to see if Erik would come back, but he never did. Though you couldn’t imagine Magneto ever would have agreed to travel like this. Or that the Greek airmen would have even allowed it, still knowing he was wanted worldwide.

You did believe Xavier though. When the dust finally settled, you thought Erik would be back. He’d find his own way home. And to contact Peter again, he’d only have to reach out to the Professor. Which of course Erik would no doubt, as those two old friends always crossed paths again eventually from all the stories you had heard. They never gave up on each other in the end, despite all their differences in beliefs.

You didn’t fight it when you finally began to nod off. Even over the pulsing of the helicopter and the radio chatter coming from the soldiers’ headsets, it was all just white noise eventually. Peter had his arm around your waist, his head leaned back against the hull and yours on his shoulder as you’d both fallen asleep somewhere over the now moonlit Mediterranean Sea.

——————————

Waking up had been much harder. As stiff as you were from the helicopter ride, you still had been in no hurry to move as you’d heard your name called. Xavier was trying to round you all up before the soldiers got impatient.

They’d at least provided him a wheelchair you noticed as you all groggily reconvened on what was actually the flight deck of a large U.S. aircraft carrier now docked in the bay alongside the Greek naval base.

All of you certainly looked worse for wear, Peter especially had his glasses skewed almost comically now, hair mussed in about every direction as he yawned big, standing on one leg with an arm thrown over your shoulders for support.

Once you were all accounted for on deck, the Professor spoke quickly. “Given the state of things, there will not be any transatlantic flights available currently. We will be staying here in the short term. For all of you, you will be given medical treatment as needed in this ship’s sick bay. We have also been provided sleeping arrangements separate of the crew. I am asking all of you to please rest up as best you can tonight. Moira and I will speak to these gentlemen as to the events that have transpired today.”

The “gentlemen” Xavier referred to looked about as pleased to be here as you all had been to wake up in Stryker’s base. You knew little of actual military rankings, but from the amount of bars on the fronts of their uniforms, you’d guess they were pretty high up there in authority.

But the Professor only continued in your heads for good measure. “Please understand that non-mutants especially are on edge right now. There were fatalities and very extensive damages to some cities today. I implore you all to be patient with any persons you may encounter on this ship. I believe they’ve moved the majority of the crew to the mainland already to better quarantine us here and limit tensions. But please remember, that by your demeanor and your choices, you represent us all. I will reach out to you all as soon as I know anything more on our options for returning home.”

He’d bid you all good night then, leaving with Moira and the most senior looking of the men while the rest of you had followed some nervous looking officers to the lower decks. You got the sense that Hank and Raven now felt obligated to chaperone and protect the group, as the oldest of you now, only second to the Professor.

Raven had assumed her blonde, human appearance before the helicopters had arrived, but without his medicine Hank could only remain in his Beast form. You could tell how uncomfortable both he and Kurt now made the soldiers as Hank had requested to accompany you and Peter to the sick bay, while Raven went with the others to whatever living quarters you were being given.

You’d be lying to say that their obvious judgment on Hank and Kurt’s physical appearances didn’t bother you. But you tried to remind yourself that they also didn’t know any better. They didn’t know how ridiculously smart, and even a bit nerdy and loyal Hank could be. Or how kind, forgiving, and genuine Kurt was.

When you did get to the sick bay, the doctor on call also looked like he’d just been dragged in there against his better judgement. But he did greet you all, saying he’d been made aware that there was a broken leg he needed to set and make a cast for.

His reaction to the metal splint Peter already had though was almost something funny. You knew Peter wanted to joke so badly about his “dad making it for him”, but you’d all agreed before the helicopters had arrived to downplay Erik’s role in all of this if he didn’t show himself.

Xavier had promised to make clear to the U.S. officials that Erik had been on your side in the end though. Yes, Magneto had blood on his hands from past and present, but having the world pursue him any further would only lead to more violence. It wouldn’t undo anything that had already been done.

Beast had been strong enough to unbend the metal with his bare hands, carefully removing the splint. He’d also helped Peter get out of the flight suit and dirtied clothing to wash up. Though they’d just cut his clothing away from his broken leg with surgical shears, not to injure it any further.

They’d put a screen up for some privacy while they worked on him. You knew Hank would protect Peter, so you were okay focusing on yourself a bit as you also got undressed and a nurse checked you for broken bones. With your clothes off, you finally got to see how badly bruised you were everywhere. But they’d agreed that your only actually damaged bones were cracked ribs, which there was no real treatment for save going easy to give them proper time to heal.

After the examination, you were allowed to take a shower. Which was honestly more amazing than you expected, not realizing just how much dirt, sweat, and blood had accumulated through all of this. Afterward, you’d gotten dressed with some clothes they’d left you. A plain white t-shirt with a small U.S. Navy insignia, and dark blue sweatpants essentially.

They’d offered to escort you to where the others were bunked. But you declined, choosing to wait for Hank and Peter instead.

And it had been a while, but eventually they cane back out. You could see they’d gotten the same treatment as you while here. Both had showered, though Peter made a point to laugh at how poor Hank had had to help him essentially get a trash bag tied over his leg cast first so he wouldn’t get it wet.

They had on the same white t-shirts as you as well now. Though even in the largest size, Hank’s looked uncomfortably small. Hank also got the same blue pants as you, but for Peter it was only blue shorts to accommodate his cast. You all looked like you were late for P.E. class honestly, albeit maybe at a U.S. Naval academy somewhere. You’d gotten a good deal of amusement from that.

They’d given Peter crutches too, which he was clearly playing with as he tried to see how quick he could move on them. Hank reprimanded him more than once when Peter had almost fallen flat on his face a few times on your way to the bunks.

The soldiers hadn’t separated you into guys and girls for the sleeping arrangements. Probably because to them the separation was more mutant/non-mutant only in all reality. But it didn’t bother you any. Really you felt safer knowing everyone else was close. By the time you had gotten to the bunks though, it was already lights out and Raven was the only one still awake waiting for you three.

“Sleep where you want,” She said, motioning to all the still empty beds. It looked like this block was meant to house a lot more than just your small number, but had evidently been cleared out for your arrival. Still being on a ship though where space was at a premium and the beds were double stacked and inset into the walls, it would be sleeping like books on a shelf.

You’d walked down a ways past your sleeping friends to find some open ones. Naturally you started to climb into the top bunk, knowing Peter would need the bottom with his cast in the way.

But you didn’t even have both legs pulled in before he startled you by grabbing your ankle. “What?” You breathed in a whisper, not wishing to wake the others as you tried to look down at him in the dark. With the main lights off, there was only the faintest glow from small emergency type lights sparsely spaced along the walls.

Mostly you could just see the white of his teeth, knowing he was grinning back at you. In this moment it reminded you only of the Cheshire cat, mischievous and a little disconcerting.

“There’s room down here, goofball,” He whispered back.

“Peter,” You answered, the tone saying far more than the short response. You weren’t alone here, and it, well it just didn’t seem proper. With the immediate threat of death now finally passed (hopefully), it really felt more like being back at school for the moment. There were standards of behavior and-

“If one of Hank can fit in these, then two of us definitely will.” He was clearly unfazed by your sudden reservations, though seemed to realize the cause pretty quickly. “Raven doesn’t care. Where do you think Scott and Jean ended up? You didn’t even notice did you?”

You could hear the bit of amusement in his voice. But no, you didn’t count heads as you were walking by. Why would you? If Scott and Jean had made it into the same bunk already, it wasn’t your business.

Which, yes, admittedly if you felt that way, would the others be as okay with it for you and Peter? He’d rightly guessed that it was more the fear of being judged that made you hesitate, than actually being uncomfortable sleeping beside him. You’d already slept side by side in the helicopter on the way here after all, but that wasn’t quite the same as being in the same bed.

“Still waiting,” He reminded, squeezing your ankle lightly.

You knew if you actually said no, he would drop it. It was only your indecision that he was waiting for you to resolve. But, how often would you have this chance again? Thinking of it in those terms, you relented at last, climbing back down.

You could still see his smile in the dark, no doubt excited over the small victory as he scooted back as much as he could to allow you in.

Trying to get into a comfortable position was a little awkward at first, especially with his cast. But you eventually ended up both laying on your sides, your back against his chest as he wrapped an arm around you under your shared blanket.

You were quickly learning how much he seemed to be comforted by physical contact. It wasn’t long at all before his breathing steadied out and you realized he was fast asleep, his head nuzzled into the back of your neck.

The feeling was warm and pleasant though. Yourself following suit not long after, sleeping deeply at last for a long deserved rest.

——————————

When morning finally came, there was no real way to know it. There were no windows to let in the daylight. By the time you’d woken to hear the others’ voices and the fluorescent lighting buzzing back on when one of them hit the switch, you’d learned it was actually almost noon local time.

Which none of you were complaining about. But you were hungry now. Sleep had been the primary physical need beforehand, and with that now met, you needed some more calories to burn.

Peter especially. You could actually hear his stomach growling as you’d all gotten up and headed into the common bathroom to brush teeth, brush hair and the like with the standard toiletries they’d left in there for everyone.

“Yeah, I’m like a hummingbird basically,” He’d explained nonchalantly on your walk to the mess hall afterward. “I just haven’t fallen out yet here because I haven’t gotten to run since dickhead busted my leg. But normally yeah, high octane all the time to keep things going. My blood sugar tanks if I don’t keep snacking at least. Twinkies are a personal fave in the old survival kit.”

“Those are good,” Kurt agreed. “I like the little pies too,” He gestured a circle shape with his hands, “With the little...the dried purple fruit, what are those in English?”

“Raisins, my bro.” Peter responded. “Old raisin creme pie. I swap back and forth on those. Oatmeal pies are alright too, but you know where it’s really at is zebra cakes, man.”

“Zebra...cake?” Clearly Kurt was trying to envision in his head how a zebra would have anything to do with the naming of a cake.

“It’s got white icing with brown stripes,” You answered. You weren’t super into junk food, but you did grow up in the U.S., so a lot of this knowledge was entirely unavoidable.

“But zebras have black stripes?” Kurt replied with some bit of bemusement.

“I don’t think Little Debbie or Hostess are too concerned with accurate representations of wildlife.” Raven chimed in, halfway amused at the randomness of the topics you all came up with, but still looking quite unimpressed.

“They do have brown stripes when they’re juveniles, before they get their adult coat.” Hank corrected though, glancing down at her.

“So they should be called baby zebra cakes. Got it.” Scott finally piped up, though also clearly thinking this ridiculous.

Raven and Jean just exchanged a look of their own as Ororo glanced to you. “Is it always like this?”

“Pretty much,” You answered with a slight smile. It was good to see Peter meshing in so well with the others though, even if he was a little bit older. You hoped that whenever the school was rebuilt that he’d consider staying. Xavier always seemed to be able to make room for any young mutant willing to learn and also work as a mentor to the even younger kids.

You were all still chatting lightly as your group walked through the mess hall doors. But after being just the few of you for so many hours, it was a bit of a shock to see several tables worth of sailors look up at your sudden intrusion.

It was clear by the amount of still empty tables though, that this wasn’t near the normal occupancy rate. You remembered the Professor commenting that he thought a lot of the men had been forced to disembark to the mainland, just to make a larger bubble for you all.

And by all the expressions on the faces of those that were left, it seemed that most disagreed whole heartedly with that decision.

Your group quieted immediately, everyone picking up on those stares and the bit of whispering as you got in line together. The mess hall was set up cafeteria style, so you had to grab trays and slide them along, picking what you wanted as the kitchen staff would spoon out or serve whatever it was you’d chosen onto your tray.

“Maybe we should just take the food back to the barracks?” Kurt asked quietly, looking down with an evident bit of anxiety building.

“It’s okay,” Raven answered, “Just keep your head up. We won’t be long.”

You were conflicted though. You shouldn’t have to eat, segregated out of everyone else’s sight like some sort of criminals, just because your presence might offend someone. But then again, what purpose did it serve in the larger scheme of things if you antagonized these sailors into an avoidable confrontation right now?

As the Professor had said, tensions were already high. Throwing any spark into that powder keg couldn’t possibly end well.

Hank had volunteered to carry Peter’s tray for him, as Peter needed both hands to work his crutches. You were glad for that at least as you could only envision yourself dropping it all in spectacular fashion. Especially when Peter insisted on a triple portion of some kind of strawberry cake desert they’d had.

“I think we should go back to the bunks,” Jean spoke up though when you were all about to walk away from the line with your trays and drinks. “There’s one of them, he’s about to go off.”

You all paused, looking to Raven and Hank simultaneously, seemingly all deciding without speaking that they’d become the de facto leadership in the Professor’s absence.

“Fine,” Raven relented, obviously not wanting to roll over in this situation, but also remembering all you’d already been through recently. Just getting to eat in peace should be a reasonable thing to want.

But even turning the other cheek, didn’t seem to be enough.

“Hey!” One of the sailors called out before you could get close enough to the door.

“Keep walking.” Raven just directed.

“Do you even know what the rest of the world looks like right now!?” He kept on, standing up as his voice only grew louder. “My Mom and my little brother were in San Francisco. Their goddamn apartment building collapsed!”

Peter was the first one to stop, looking back then.

You could hear the tone in the man’s voice change though, and in that moment you knew he was not going to attack anyone. But it almost made it worse that he didn’t as his voice broke, nearly pleading to you all. “I don’t even know if they’re alive, if they made it out or not. The phones won’t work...no one can get through.”

“We didn’t do that,” Raven spoke up as calmly as she could, looking back to him as well then. “I’m sorry.”

“But you know who did, don’t you!?” He countered. “It was him. Wasn’t it? The one from Washington D.C. that could move metal. And he got away. You let him get away!”

The men next to the sailor were trying to pull him back down to sitting now, trying to remind him something about orders, making you realize they must have been given a similar talk as you all had. Don’t cause trouble, don’t antagonize, keep the peace because you’d been told to.

Even with two food trays in hand, Hank was now trying to usher you all through the mess hall doors just as intently as the man’s friends were trying to make him stop as well.

But Peter just twisted right out of Hank’s reach in a blur, calling back suddenly then. “It was Magneto. I’m sure it was. But he’s gone, man. He ran.” Peter looked pained, but shook his head. “His family was killed...but that doesn’t mean he had any right to take it out on the world. I hope you find your family. I really do, and I’m sorry.”

With that Peter shoved through the doors, going on ahead of you all and not looking back. His frustration was palpable as the crutches limited him. If his leg hadn’t been broken you doubted any of you would have seen him leave at all. Like he too wanted to run away now, instead of having to face the painful reality that this was.

——————————

Nothing was said about the incident for quite some time as you’d all eaten quietly in the barracks. The food was plain, the simple kinds of things that could be made in bulk to feed a large crew on a ship like this. Macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, rice, and the like.

You were sitting on the floor eating while Peter was sitting on his bottom bunk, now just picking at the strawberry cake he’d most wanted with a fork. “This was definitely some pre-made frozen crap they just defrosted and put whip cream on.” He commented in dry disappointment.

“Yeah, I guess it’d be hard to keep fresh strawberries for long on a boat,” You replied, sipping one of the soft drinks you’d brought back. At least these were canned to still be carbonated well, but it wasn’t all that cold anymore.

He smirked. “I’d go crazy living on this thing out at sea. Not too many steps up from a prison cell really.”

Though you could imagine submarine life would be even worse, you didn’t think he was far off base. “It takes a special kind of person to enlist that’s for sure.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, going back to silence for a while as he dissected the cake idly.

You’d about finished all your food before he spoke to you again.

“What do you really think of him, (Y/N)?” Peter asked you in a somber tone then. “I mean, am I an idiot for trying to get to know him? My whole life I thought about what it would have been like if we’d had a real dad. If it wasn’t just Mom stressed the hell out all the time trying to keep us from getting evicted, or me from getting arrested honestly, or her worrying about Wanda being depressed so much. It’s like we were always broken. I had this idea if we’d just had that missing piece of a father, that everything would have been fixed. But then I finally meet him, finally find out who he really is, and he’s just as fucked up as anyone.”

You moved your tray to the side, considering your words carefully as you got up to go sit beside Peter on the edge of the bed. “You’re not an idiot.” That was the easiest point to make first. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to know who your parents are.” But the rest, that was muddled and complicated.

“I mean, that was the first time I’ve actually ever met him in person. So I only know the stories really.” You continued. “I know the Professor thinks highly of him. They’ve always been close.”

“Xavier punched my dad right in the damn face the first time I saw them together.” Peter responded, turning his head to look at you directly. “Knocked him on his ass actually.”

You blinked. “Um, well...I have heard their relationship has had its rough patches too. They disagree on a lot of things as well. But they always seem to care about each other in the end, when it’s all said and done.”

Peter laid the last of the cake back down on the floor, before laying back down behind you in the bunk. “So you’re saying that’s what I have to look forward to? Alternating between wanting to kick his ass, and wanting him to stick around and have a relationship together?”

You could only be honest. “Not really what I was going for, but, I mean, that’s kind of Erik right?”

“But he’s killed people hasn’t he? How do I get past that?”

That was really the hardest question of all, wasn’t it? And now the one probably weighing on Peter’s mind the most after the interaction with that upset sailor in the mess hall.

“His sins aren’t your sins, Peter.” Was what you finally said, sighing and looking at your hands now in your lap. “Erik has lost so much too. His parents, your grandparents, I know they died at Auschwitz. The Professor told us that. And they experimented on Erik, tortured him to try and use his powers as a weapon. Erik ended up killing the man most responsible for that. But Xavier had tried to stop him anyway and ended up paralyzed for it. It was an accident though.”

You could feel Peter shift behind you, sitting up slightly in the bunk. It was most likely that he’d never heard any of this. You hated that it had to come secondhand from you. That you, this random mutant would know more about his own father’s history than himself.

But you continued. “And then what he told us in Egypt, about his wife and daughter....I mean, my God. Like you said, it doesn’t mean he can just go around hurting everyone else just because of what’s been done to him. But what would anyone else really do? How can we say where our own breaking points would be?” You weren’t trying to absolve him by any means, but how could you sit here and judge him either?

“Yeah,” Peter answered, sounding distant. “I mean, I tried not to think about it too much, everything was already so messed up. But I’ve got to tell Wanda all of this too at some point. And I don’t know how. We had a little sister, and she’s already gone. How do you...how do you even process that when you didn’t even get to meet them? How do you get closure?”

You heard him moving around like he was wiping at his face with his hands. You didn’t think he was crying, but maybe his eyes were trying to build up something that he wasn’t willing to allow yet.

“Can we just lay here for a bit?” He asked you after another moment.

“Sure,” You answered, laying back down in the bunk with him. This time you didn’t care if the others would pay any mind or not. He needed someone right now.

You were just laying the same way you’d slept last night with your back to his chest. But after a while you felt him tug at your side.

“Turn around,” He asked.

You did hesitate momentarily, knowing how much more personal that would be in the confines of the small bunk. But you allowed it, rolling over so that now you were nearly face to face, torsos touching as he wrapped his good leg over you before pulling up the blanket.

“Hey,” He smirked, seeming to cheer up at your awkward look. Your stomach flipped as you thought he was going in for a kiss, but he just ended up kissing your forehead once before pulling back.

Whatever expression you made then got a real laugh out of him.

“I was just going to tell you thank you.” He said teasingly, before leaning back in to whisper in your ear, “But you look kind of disappointed...did you want a little more?”

There was no question you were fully flustered now as you felt that heat rising in your face yet again. You’d have to make a mental note to apologize to Jean later if she was getting any of this broadcast to her. But then again, she did live in a house full of teenagers doing God knows what at any given time. Maybe she was already used to it. But you didn’t even want to think about Xavier possibly picking up on your current emotional panic either, that would be mortifying.

Sensing your spiraling distraction, Peter lightly touched one fingertip to the end of your nose. “Boop. Earth to (Y/N), have we lost signal? Overheated the engines already?”

You blinked. “That’s not funny.”

“Oh, it’s hilarious. And still waiting, dear. Always waiting...”

To be honest, when you finally kissed him, it was more just to wipe that smug look off his face. But on second thought, maybe that had been his plan all along. To taunt you into action. But it worked. It worked extremely well, as you’d both closed your eyes. His hand pressed into your back, making sure you stayed tight against him as you’d let it happen again and again. One kiss after another.

It’d been different too. The first ones back in Cairo had been so desperate more than anything, just a burst of emotion like a dying wish when neither of you had really expected to make it out of that desert.

While this now was far slower, much more thought behind each. It did make you forget everything else for those moments except the taste and feel of him.

But as much as you liked the sensations, you also knew you had to be the one to steer you both back out of it. When you felt his hand starting to move under your shirt, sliding up greedily across your bare skin, you realized he was already wanting more. And this wasn’t the place, not the time. Not yet at least. You weren’t immune to those feelings either, but it’d be much better if you waited. As much as you knew he hated waiting...

You’d pulled your lips away, but he then only moved to kissing your neck instead as you had to speak his name to try and call him back out of it. “Peter.”

“Mmm?” He responded after a moment, at least pausing, even though his lips were still touching against your throat.

You tugged his hair a little to try and get him to look back up at you.

He resisted slightly, not a lot, but you knew he was stalling as best he could before he finally relented. “Stop sign comes out huh?” He breathed, though not upset, just clearly having trouble coming out of the mood as his hand slid back out of your shirt to rest only on top of your clothes.

“Not exactly enough privacy here,” you responded quietly. Which was of course a huge understatement as the others were probably just out of earshot right now. If you were lucky anyway.

“It’s a big ship, babe. I’m sure we can find a place,” He joked, but only partially you were sure. As you really thought if you said the word right now, he’d make it his mission to find such a place immediately.

You toyed with his hair a little more, moving the messy silver strands out away from his eyes. “I think it’s getting to be pretty inevitable if you really want to know the truth.”

He leaned into the touch, just kissing your hand once more as your palm neared too close to his mouth. “You make it really tough either way, I’ll say that.”

You knew better than to lecture this one on the virtue of patience. But this was already the most physical you’d ever been with anyone as it was, and all so soon. Yet you knew it was only a matter of time. These new feelings were only growing. None of this would be fading any time soon.

You just laid your head back on his shoulder after a while, speaking to him, “Hey, after we’ve cooled down a bit more here, you want to see if anyone will allow us on the flight deck? It’d be nice to see the ocean at least before the sun goes back down. Get some fresh air.”

“Romantic stroll in the ocean breeze you say? Well maybe more a romantic hobble for me.” He chuckled dryly. “I’m game.”

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years ago

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BTS Reaction || Punches A Bad Ex [Request] [TW]

A/N: The following post contains subjects that may be considered triggering to some people, as someone with a personal history with this topic I tried to make it so it wouldn’t have descriptions of the things that happened. I love you guys. If you ever need someone I’m always here. No tagline for obvious reasons

Seokjin:

"You look amazing," Jin said pouring you a glass of wine from the bottle he'd ordered you were blushing at his comment and he smirked loving how he still had that kind of effect on you even after dating you for the last year.

"You look amazing too Jin." You said just to make his ears turn red and you smirked when it worked picking up your glass of wine so you could clink your glasses together, you were celebrating your one year anniversary.

"To, many more years together," You smiled and clinked your glasses when you suddenly dropped it onto the floor, red wine splashing on the floor and up your legs.

"Holy shit." You choked looking down at the broken glass, it was as if the world was starting to move in slow motion, Jin turned to see what you were looking at and once his eyes landed on your ex he was red in the face with anger. A waitress came bounding over to the table to see what was wrong and why you'd broken a wine glass, that's when your ex began walking over to the table as well. Jin knew everything about your past with him as you decided not to hide it away when it was still something fresh when you first started dating Jin.

"I'm sorry, I just lost my grip." You lied looking at the lady and trying to avoid the gaze coming from your ex who was now at your feet cleaning up the broken glass. He let out a hiss as he cut his hand and the waitress ran off to get a first aid kit,

"Think of that as getting off easy," Jin growled at him helping you stand up and move away from the table, he paid for the wine you'd spilt and then looked at your ex who was now standing up and staring at you.

"Listen, mate, whatever she told you is a lie." Jin stared down at you and you were staring at the floor wanting nothing more than to get out of there without another word being spoken,

"She's nothing but a lying skank-" He couldn't even finish the insult because Jin punched him so hard in the jaw he'd fallen back onto the floor and was staring up at you both holding his face,

"Excuse me, sir! We don't tolerate violence in this restaurant!" The manager yelled coming over to you both with a shocked expression on his face, Jin scoffed looking at you to make sure you were okay.

"Then I suggest you take a closer look at who you're hiring to work for your company," He wrapped his arm around you and walked you out of the restaurant making sure you were okay, he was never violent ever he was normally the calm one in your relationship but something came over him the second he saw your ex and then when he began to insult you Jin was blinded by rage.

"I'm sorry if I scared you." You shook your head at his comment and he moved hair behind your ear cupping your face and staring into your eyes,

"We'll go home and order something in instead, a nice calm night in?" You nodded in agreement and linked your fingers with Jin's and began walking to find a taxi to take you both home for the night.

Yoongi:

"Yoongi what coffee do you want?" You asked as you got up from the table in the small coffee shop you and Yoongi had travelled to that morning together, he rubbed his hands over his face.

"Black," You nodded and kissed his temple walking over to the counter to order your drinks, you'd woken up early with Yoongi to have a nice long autumn day together in Seoul and so far it had been a bust. Almost everything was closed because the weather was worse than expected, the only thing available was a coffee shop and a nature walk you were braving yourselves up for.

"Hello, can I get one black coffee and a hot chocolate please?" You looked up to the waitress and she wrote down your order telling you to go and wait at the end, you were texting Yoongi from across the room.

"Do you come here often?" You looked up expecting to see a creepy dude that would hit on everyone in the shop but instead, you found your ex, your face fell and you went to move but he grabbed your arm tightly.

"Don't even think about it." You hit the call button to Yoongi on your phone and he looked over at you, you'd told him about your past but he'd never seen photos so you had no idea if he was going to come over.

"Where have you been hiding out?" Your ex whispered still refusing to let go of your arm but that was when Yoongi came over.

"She's been with her boyfriend, who are you?" He asked with venom dripping from his tone of voice, he stared at you.

"The ex I was telling you about." You told Yoongi trying not to come across as nervous, Yoongi stared down at his hand which was still grasping your arm tightly and he stared back up at your ex-boyfriend who was now staring back at him.

"You're with someone like this now?!" He began laughing and people turned around to see what was happening, turning back when it was silent once again.

"I suggest you let her go right now," Yoongi warned him looking at your boyfriend and then to you, you were starting to tear up the longer he touched you and Yoongi was getting more annoyed as time passed.

"No, she's coming back to me." Your body was pulled against your ex and that was all it took for Yoongi to snap, you'd never really seen him mad before but his face was red and he just reached out grabbing your ex's shirt and punching him in the face,

"Next time I tell you to do something I suggest you do it." His grip on your wrist was gone and you pushed Yoongi back towards the exit for the small ship not wanting anyone to get photographs or videos of the exchange they'd just had.

"Yoongi he isn't worth it." You grunted as you struggled to keep him from going back into the shop, the cold air hit him and he cooled down, literally and figuratively, you rubbed his arms and made him look at you.

"Are you okay? How's your arm?" He was holding your arm gently when you noticed the small cut on his knuckles where his skin had come into contact with your ex-boyfriend's face.

"Are you?" You questioned looking at his knuckles and he nodded his head,

"I'm fine, come on before he comes out and I can't control myself."

Hoseok:

Hoseok did everything he could to find out everything on your ex-boyfriend he wanted to know who he was and what he did for a living, he wasn't about to let someone who had hurt you for so long get away with it so he was on the hunt for him.

"What are we doing here Hobi?" You questioned looking around the museum you knew all too well, you knew your ex was working here but you didn't know that Hoseok knew that as well. He'd brought you out with the promise of a romantic date, he'd originally planned to go to the museum just for the date, see your ex and warn him but something came over him when he saw him guiding a tour of people.

"We're here to see some art." He lied walking you through the halls and taking you over to different paintings and artefacts but his mind was somewhere else when he walked you through, he'd tried to stay away from your ex when he felt the anger bubbling up but as soon as he saw the guy smirking he lost all sense of control.

"Hobi?" You turned around to see him storming over to a crowd of people who were all standing in front of a worker in the museum.

"Hobi!" You yelled when you realised what he was going to do, you rushed after him but it was too late, your ex-boyfriend was pinned down underneath Hoseok as he punched him in the face, only stopping when you dragged him off him onto the floor behind you.

"Are you fucking crazy?! Who the fuck-" Your ex was stopped when he noticed you were the one comforting Hoseok who was still in a fit of rage your ex laughed at the sight of you,

"I should have known, been spitting more lies to people have we?" He scoffed radioing in security to come and escort you out but you stood Hoseok up from the floor ignoring his comment and trying to walk away when he mentioned how much of a giant liar you were again. Before Hoseok could react you elbowed your ex-boyfriend in the nose not caring about the looks you were getting from the people around you,

"I wouldn't lie, unlike some people." You spat out looking at Hoseok and running with him out of the museum and in the direction of the car, it wouldn't be long before he was caught but by then he would have already told PR and management to figure something out.

Namjoon:

You were out looking for furniture with Namjoon, you'd decided it was time to move in together and so you were on the hunt for furniture, paint and other decorating items.

"Namjoon I will not have green tiles in my bathroom." You groaned looking at the tiles he was pointing at in the decor store he scoffed and walked away from you to find some more. You were looking through paint colours when you heard a bunch of tiles breaking against the floor,

"Namjoon?! What did you do this time?" You joked expecting it to be a worker who had actually broken tiles but when you found Namjoon with his fist clenched and a man on the floor you almost screamed.

"What happened?! Are you alright?!" You panicked looking at Namjoon and then at the floor where the tiles were on the floor, stood beside them was a man who was shaking a little, on a closer look you noticed it was your ex and you knew what happened.

"Namjoon, we need to leave come on." You whispered trying to get him to move but he was stuck in place staring at your ex-boyfriend who was bleeding from the mouth meaning Namjoon had probably hit him which wasn't hard to get from the broken tiles.

"Namjoon, please." You pleaded but your ex-boyfriend began laughing at the sight of you both,

"Run along like her little lapdog." He scoffed and Namjoon lunged at him punching him in the nose this time, you'd never ever seen Namjoon like this. Sure he got angry but you'd never seen him be violent with anyone before,

"Joonie." You pleaded eyes filled with tears and he moved away grabbing you and walking out of the store with his arm wrapped around your waist as you walked in the direction of some toilets. You wanted to clean his hand up since he was bleeding where his skin had come into contact with your ex's.

"You could get in trouble." You frowned cleaning up the small abrasions on his knuckles,

"I don't care, he's filthy." You didn't disagree with him Namjoon knew everything your ex had put you through and he hated that the guy practically got away with it just earning some community service and then going on like his life was normal.

"I'm not disagreeing but Namjoon, your reputation is more important than that scum bag." You whispered to him looking him in the eyes, he felt relaxed once he noticed you weren't tearing up anymore and he pulled your head to rest on his,

"I'm sorry I scared you," You shook your head kissing the tip of his nose,

"You didn't scare me Namjoon, I was just worried you would get hurt or someone could have seen." He nodded knowing what he did was probably going to come back badly but he didn't care,

"Come on, let's go back to the empty apartment before you cause more trouble." You laughed softly standing up and walking out of the bathrooms with him and in the direction of the carpark.

Jimin:

You were having a movie night in with Jimin and the boys it was your way of having a nice quiet birthday without the huge stress of a party, you'd never been one for being the centre of attention and the boys knew that so they agreed a movie night in would be best.

"This is perfect." You smiled to Jimin as he came over to you in the kitchen kissing your temple, he'd put the whole thing together like the good boyfriend he was. He'd made a huge pillow fort for you all to sit in while you watched movies and Taehyung had picked Howl's Moving Castle for the first movie and Hoseok was picking Train to Busan for the next one deciding it would be good to have a small scare for the night.

"That'll be the pizza." You said as you heard the doorbell Jimin walked with you with his arms still linked around your waist as though he was a second skin.

"You need to let go at some point Jimin!" Jungkook laughed and you opened the front door holding money out only to see your ex standing there with flowers and a box of chocolate.

"What the fuck?!" You asked without thinking before speaking and Jimin's hands dropped from your waist as he noticed who it was,

"What do you want?!" He asked pulling you behind him and looking your ex up and down, he was standing there with a smirk on his face.

"I see you moved on," You shook your head at his comment,

"It's been four years did you think I would still be here waiting for you?" You questioned and Jimin took control of the situation, he knew everything that had happened between you and the ex since you'd told him the moment you started dating.

"I suggest you leave before I can't control myself." By now the rest of the boys were standing up to see what the big deal was and Jimin was getting angrier the longer your ex stood there as if nothing was wrong and he was the one in the clear.

"Whatever she told you was a lie. I never hit her once." That was the last thing he said, Jimin punched him in the nose making him stumble backwards and fall off the step and fall onto his ass.

"I said leave." Jimin growled at him he scrambled to his feet and left through the gate passing the pizza delivery man who looked shocked at what he had just witnessed,

"Thanks, keep the change." You said as you handed him the money and took the boxes of pizza away from him. Jimin was still angry about your ex and you walked him into the house hoping the pizza and the boys would help calm him down but he sat you on his lap. He didn't want you to leave his side so he was planning on keeping you on his lap all night if he had to. You were the only thing that would keep him calm right now.

Taehyung:

Taehyung knew about your ex-boyfriend because you'd told him about him when you first started dating, now four years later he was trying to creep back into your life again by blackmailing you to get back together with him. He wanted to blackmail you to split up with Taehyung threatening to expose all of your secrets, and photos he'd saved over the time you had been dating and you were telling Taehyung the whole thing. Worried it would somehow damage his name but he was helping you throughout it, promising he would find a way to end the blackmail which led to you being in a park on your own.

"You came?" You turned around to see your ex standing there with a giant creepy smile on his face,

"I did." You whispered getting up and turning around so you were standing in front of him, the plan was to hand him the money he was asking for so he would leave you alone but Taehyung had other ideas once he saw you ex reaching for your arm. He came rushing over knocking him to the floor before hitting in the face, you panicked pulling him away and trying to get Taehyung to calm down but he was red in the face with anger and looked as though the longer he stared at your ex the angrier he got.

"I'll end you!" Your Ex screamed looking at Taehyung as you pulled him away from the scene, Taehyung had blood coming out of his nose so you rushed him home as quickly as possible to get him fixed up.

"PR are going to kill you Tae." You groaned as you wiped away the blood from his face, he looked up at you and shook his head.

"I don't care, he didn't have any right to touch you." You kissed his head and continued cleaning up the dried blood from around his nose and lips,

"It was nice having someone defend me like that though." He smiled softly and kissed your lips as you bent down to clean him up some more,

"You'll never have to do anything like that again, I'll find some other way to stop him from doing whatever he has on you." You nodded and threw away the bloody wipes, looking down at the floor and then back at Taehyung wondering how you got so lucky to get someone like him in the first place.

Jungkook:

"I still hate him." Your boyfriend said as you walked through the main Mall in Seoul together, you and Jungkook had only started dating a couple of months ago but you were best friends long before that so he knew all about your past love life and the ex that you had just walked past in the food court.

"I know, but he's not worth it." You reminded Jungkook and reminded him about the fact that your boyfriend had done time for what he'd done to you but it was hard to move on for Jungkook since he had a deep hatred for the man.

"He's with someone-" He said as you walked back on yourselves seeing your ex with another girl, she didn't look uncomfortable but then again neither did you when you were out with him.

"Should we go and say something?" You whispered but your ex looked up at that moment and made eye contact with you jumping up from the table and rushing over to you. Screaming about how you ruined his life and you were the reason he didn't have a job anymore, you flinched hiding behind Jungkook but your ex pushed him out of the way so he could yell at you some more.

"Who do you think you are?!" Jungkook yelled catching his attention, your ex scoffed turning to look at him and then back at you.

"So you're dating him now, so you were cheating on me?!" You flinched again and Jungkook couldn't stand it anymore, without thinking he threw a punch at your ex catching his nose and making it bust almost instantly, then another punch to the stomach and he was on the floor at your feet.

"Come on," Jungkook said taking your hand in his and dragging you out towards the car, people turning to watch as you both ran away from your ex who was groaning on the floor.

"Jungkook-"

"He got what he deserved, I don't regret a thing." You stopped still and he turned to look at you, you grabbed his face and kissed him,

"I was just going to say I thought it was quite hot the way you looked when you did it." He smirked at you and continued pulling you away when he noticed security going over to your ex.

"Gotta go before we get in trouble." You giggled as you both turned into a sprint to find the car he'd driven here in.

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skinsharpenedteeth · 4 years ago

Text

Tonight, We Are Young

So as a New Year’s gift, I give to you another NYE Malex fic, because apparently I can’t help myself. I hope 2021 treats everyone better than 2020 did!

Also available on AO3!

“This party is fucking lame,” Alex commented, watching his classmates mill around the Evans’ mini-mansion with their red Solo cups filled with vodka, rum, or whatever mixed with fruit juice or soda. He was tired of watching people grind on each other to Christina Aguilera or 50cent while was left dodging assholes like Kyle Valenti all evening.

“Well, what do you propose we do instead?” Michael asked, head hanging upside down from over the side of the pool table he was laying across. His eyes were half obscured by gold, glittery 2008 glasses and he smelled a little like weed and spring rain. Alex thought briefly about wanting to Spiderman kiss him while he hung like that, but stopped himself with a sharp reminder that they were ‘just friends’.

They’d been hanging out since Alex had offered the backyard shed for Michael’s use during the cold winter nights. He knew he was using it, but hadn’t gotten up the courage to go talk to him yet while he was there. He was afraid he’d bring his father’s attention to it if he spent too much time out there, spent too much time with another boy in a room with the vaguest notion of privacy and a bed…

“You wanna get out of here? I know a place…,’ Alex started, but Michael was already sitting up before Alex could finish. He rolled off his back and then jumped off the table to stand beside where Alex was still sitting cross-legged against the pool table leg. He grinned down at Alex, smile wide and sweet and making Alex blush a little like he always did when Michael looked right at him like that, and held out his hand to pull Alex up off the floor. Alex took his hand and Michael gave a helpful tug as Alex pushed his way up. It was too much, Alex was overbalancing and falling against Michael’s chest. Michael’s hand let go of Alex’s so he could grip his waist and help steady him. The blush that had been only a pink tinge at Michael’s smile flared red as his hands landed against his solid chest and he felt how close they were.

“Oh-OH! Watch out Guerin or he’ll take advantage of you!” a raucous yell rang out through the crowd. Alex shut his eyes and stepped back quickly, cursing the gods for creating Kyle Valenti, and also for the feeling of Michael’s hands quickly falling from his body.

“Fuck off, Valenti,” Michael yelled back, throwing up a middle finger.

“You got something to fucking say?!” Kyle yelled, obviously a little drunk, as he pushed past the intervening people and shoved Michael backwards a step or two. Alex stood shocked, not sure what was happening, when Michael shoved Kyle back.

“Pretty sure I said what needed saying. Why don’t you go back to ‘your boys’ and circle jerk until midnight? Make sure you ‘no homo’ before your dicks out though, or it's definitely homo,” Michael goaded, getting into Kyle’s face. Their chests were touching and they looked so close they couldn’t possibly be able to focus on one another. Alex reached out and grabbed Michael’s arm, his hands closing firmly around his bicep as he stepped close.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Alex pleaded, well aware of how many eyes were on them. He didn’t want this kind of attention, didn’t need to be on anyone else’s radar.

“Going to let your boyfriend tell you what to do, Guerin?” Kyle taunted, obviously itching for a fight. Michael looked at him for another moment before sliding his eyes over to Alex’s. Alex could see the softening around the edges of Michael’s eyes as they held contact with his and hoped he couldn’t see the fear in him. He didn’t think he was successful in hiding it, because Michael’s mouth jaw clenched and he closed his eyes in resignation.

“Yeah, I am. Get fucked,” Michael said tiredly, not looking back at Kyle's face but backing away from him instead. He turned and headed back towards the bedroom where everyone's coats were and then to the front door with Alex hot on his heels. Alex could hear Liz cussing at Kyle half in Spanish as they left and at least felt safer knowing they would be gone before he could shake free of her to continue trying to rile Michael into a fight.

The cold late December air hit him hard as they left the warmth of the Evans’ house and stalked towards Michael’s truck. As soon as Michael shut the driver’s door, the engine roared to life and he turned up the vents to try and make the heaters kick in quicker. Alex slid in the passenger side and quietly buckled his seat belt.

“So where we headin’?” Michael asked, turning to look over at him with his usual lazy grin. Alex marveled how quickly the anger and violence had drained out of him. He looked like he hadn’t just been about to throw punches. He was casual and relaxed as he slouched in his seat, wrist resting over the top of the steering wheel. Alex noted the mostly full bottle of Jack sitting next to his thigh and had an idea.

“Uh, once we get out of the neighborhood, hit Main going northwest,” Alex instructed, eyeing the bottle warily. He knew how he got when he was drunk, but he’d never been with Michael inebriated before. He was worried he’d say the wrong thing or touch him when he didn’t want to be touched. Drinking was easier with Maria, Liz, and Rosa because he didn’t want to kiss them or see them naked so if he collapsed with his head in a lap or held someone’s hand it was innocent. There was no intention behind it. He didn’t think he could have that same freedom with Michael. He definitely wanted to kiss and touch Michael in ways that would make his dad kick his ass if he ever found out.

Michael followed his quiet instructions until they were driving out past the city limits, high beams the only lights for miles around. Michael had turned on the radio and put the volume on low while he waited for Alex to speak. Alex fidgeted with the strings of his hoodie, pulling them taut on one side and then the other, his leg bouncing rhythmically against the bottom of the foot well. Silently, still watching the road, Michael reached over and curled his fingers around Alex’s knee. Alex froze, staring wide eyed at Michael’s hand, before he let it slip off Alex's leg and rest between them on the bench seat. He looked up and saw Michael darting a grin over at him.

“So where are we going?” Michael asked, leaving his hand between them and making Alex ache with how much he wanted to reach over and cover it with his own.

“There’s a place not too far from here where my brothers and I used to build bonfires. I figured we’d go set some shit on fire for awhile,” Alex replied, a little self-consciously. Would Michael think this was dumb?

“Cool,” he answered, his fingers starting to tap on the bench seat. Alex watched his fingers for a moment, marveling at how square and even his nails were and how perfect his knuckles seemed to be before turning his attention back to the road. He was getting distracted and they were getting close to where the turn off was.

“There’s going to be a sign pretty soon that says Camp Honor. It’s going to be over here on the left. That’s the turn we make. Then there’s a fork about two miles in and we’ll take the right fork,” Alex rattled off, wishing they were already parked so he could take a shot of bourbon to calm his nerves. He actually hoped Michael had some more weed on him. A joint would help put him to ease.

“Camp Honor?” Michael asked, shooting Alex a curious look, eyebrow raised.

“It’s a hunting camp. There’s no season right now, so no one will be around,” Alex replied. At least he hoped there was no season that time of the year. He hadn’t been up there since he was fourteen and that had been its own disaster he’d like to never remember.

The truck bounced over the ruts and hills in the barely discernible road up to the fire pit. Alex sincerely hoped that the tradition of hauling all the fallen branches and detritus from around the cabin and hunting grounds had kept up in the years since he’d been the one sent out to do most of it. They rolled up to a clearing and Alex could make out the fallen trees they’d moved to make places for them to sit around the pit.

“Go ahead and park. This is the place,” Alex said, turning to Michael and putting a hand on his arm as if he weren’t paying attention. Michael slowed the truck and put it in park. He peered through the darkness.

“You know, when you said you knew a place I was imagining… something different,” Michael said as he continued to look skeptically at what little was illuminated by the truck’s headlights. Alex rolled his eyes and pushed open his door. As soon as his Docs hit the ground, he was excited to see how high he could get the flames. Bonfire night had been the only night he looked forward to when he’d been forced to do long camping trips with his brothers and the Valenti’s. He went ahead and walked forward towards the pit, hoping against hope there was a stack of wood in its sunken sand floor. When he got to the edge, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and then looked over to Michael and grinned broadly.

“Let's get this thing lit and then you can turn off your headlights,” Alex said excitedly, carefully making his way down into the shallowly dug ten by ten dirt bowl they used for fire nights. He checked over the wood and was glad to see he should be able to get away with just lighting the thing up. His brothers or Kyle must be planning to come out here soon. He took a small, sadistic pleasure in knowing he’d get to use it before they would and they’d have to go get chopped wood from the cabin and haul it out here if they wanted a fire. He patted his pockets and fished out a lighter from the pocket of his black skinny jeans. He flicked it a couple times before it caught and then he carefully moved his hand down through a gap in the wood until he could catch the tiny yellow flame on the tinder. As it caught, he carefully extracted his hand and started gently blowing air towards the flame. When it started to catch and spread, he stood back up and watched it, feeling oddly proud about starting the easiest fire of his life. When he turned, Michael was smiling at him fondly.

“Guess I’ll go turn off my headlights so I don’t drain the battery and we can roll out of here later,” he commented, turning and clapping his hand over Alex’s chest before letting it slide away as he started back towards his car. Alex tried to ignore the thrill he felt at Michael’s affectionate gesture and instead concentrated on the way his breath fogged as he exhaled and how cold his hands were even stuffed in his pocket. The fire was slowly getting going, but it would be a while before it was truly letting off heat to warm them.

Scuffing behind him alerted him of Michael’s return and he turned to see him sitting on the edge of the fire ring, whiskey uncapped, and being raised to his lips. Alex went and sat next to him, leaning towards the warmth that radiated off his body almost unconsciously. When Michael passed him the bottle, he took a healthy swig, coughing as he handed it back.

“Fuck, how do people drink that shit?” he asked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and trying vainly to hide his grimace and watering eyes.

“Pretty sure nobody drinks for the taste,” Michael observed with a grin, watching him as he caught his breath before taking another swig from the bottle himself. He didn’t cough after his swallow and Alex felt heat infusing his cheeks at how uncool he must look to not be able to handle the burn of alcohol on his throat.

“I do better with vodka,” Alex said defensively, picking at the sides of his Vans as he stared at the growing fire. He toppled to the side when Michael slammed his body into him, elbows, shoulders, and hips pressed close against Alex. Alex let out a squawk of indignation, but didn’t protest when he righted himself and could feel the warmth of Michael bleeding through his too-thin layers of clothing where they touched.

“Jesus, it’s fucking cold,” Michael hissed through gritten teeth. Alex could feel the small tremors of him shivering and he wrapped an arm around him gingerly. He waited for Michael to protest or push him away and call him a ‘fag’, but when he just huddled closer Alex relaxed against him. Alex pried the whiskey bottle out from his fingers and took another manly swallow, coughing into his shoulder when he finished.

They stared at the fire, both shivering and sharing the bottle between them. As the alcohol and flames started to warm them, Alex felt Michael shifting more until his head was resting on Alex’s chest. Alex found himself running his fingers through Michael’s curls in fascination at how the light from the flames caught the brown ringlets and turned them to gold.

“We really should have thought this out better,” Michael observed.

“Hm?” Alex asked as he stretched out his legs towards the warmth.

“We should have brought snacks and music and something else to do besides drink,” Michael complained, lifting himself off of Alex’s chest and sitting up. He took the bottle from Alex’s side and helped himself to another mouth full.

“We could tell ghost stories?” Alex supplied, ready for the incredulous look Michael gave him. It still made him laugh when he looked over his shoulder at Alex like he was full of shit. “Well, what else would you do around a fire with someone if you didn’t have snacks or music?”

“Depends on the someone,” Michael replied, innuendo lacing his voice and making something hot in Alex’s stomach churn, but eyes staring straight into the fire in front of them.

“We… we can do what you do with them?” Alex offered bravely. His throat felt dry and he was pretty sure he was going to die. Did he really just say that to Michael? Michael looked over at him consideringly and handed him the bottle.

“We are,” Michael replied shortly. Alex shriveled a little in embarrassment, but he took the bottle and dutifully took a sip, trying to shift his body away so it wasn’t leaning quite as fully on Michael’s. Alex capped the bottle and put it in the dirt between legs before leaning back onto his elbows to stare up at the stars.

“Why did you stop me from hitting Valenti?” Michael asked a few minutes later. Alex had been staring at the stars, enjoying the heat on his legs from the fire. He tipped his head back down to see Michael half turned and staring at him.

“What do you mean, why? He’s a fucking tool and not worth the effort,” Alex spit out. He didn’t really want to think about Valenti right then.

“He deserves to get his fucking head knocked off,” Michael replied heatedly, turning back to stare at the fire. Alex looked at the back of his head for a moment in confusion.

“Well, I agree, but why do you care what he says?” Alex asked, a little unsure what answer he was hoping for. Michael looked back over his shoulder at Alex for a split second before snorting and looking back at the fire.

“You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met. I just hate seeing him treat you like shit because of his own insecurities. You’re not his punching bag. You deserve to be treated better.”

Alex sighed and looked back up at the stars. The sky was starting to spin a little so he let himself collapse all the way down onto his back. Without looking, he reached out and grabbed the back of Michael’s jacket and tugged him until he was laying down also. Their shoulders were overlapping despite the fact that they each had room to move. Tentatively, heart pounding so hard Alex could swear he heard it in his ears, he moved his hand over to press against Michael’s. He held his breath and waited, tensing as if he were going to be hit, but when it never came he let the air out of his lungs slowly. Then he felt Michael move his hand and in a gesture born more of instinct than finesse, scoop his hand up and thread their fingers together. Alex’s heart beat double time, practically in his throat, as he tried to relax into the warm hold Michael had on his fingers.

He stared at the sky, but he didn’t see the stars anymore. He was too hyper aware of the dry, brittle grass poking into the back of his hand and the way there seemed to be sweat collecting in his palm from the heat between them and the way the tips of his fingers were numb with cold, and how tightly and perfectly their fingers seemed to fit around each other… There wasn’t any part of his brain that wasn’t thinking about how much he wanted the rest of their bodies to fit together as well as their hands did. Then Michael started shifting around.

“What are you doing?” Alex asked, looked over at him in concern. He tried to move his hand, but Michael’s grip tightened slightly so he let it rest back where it was. Michael was digging around in his jacket pocket and flapping his arm about as he tried to dislodge his hand from the too-small opening.

“Lemme borrow your lighter,” Michael asked, still distracted by getting his hand out of his pocket. Alex furrowed his brow, but slipped his hand into the jean pocket with the lighter and then held it out for Michael to take. When he finally freed his hand, Alex watched him put a rolled joint between his lips and then take the lighter from him. He lit the end and inhaled deeply before passing it over to Alex. Alex did the same and they both laid and slowly let out their breaths at the same time. Immediately, Alex’s head felt lighter.

“Wanna shotgun one?” Alex asked on his next turn with the joint. Michael rolled onto his elbow, letting go of his hand in the process, and looked down at him with a shiteating grin.

“If you wanted me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask,” he snarked. Before Alex could squirm with embarrassment or deny that’s what his aim was, Michael plucked the joint from Alex’s fingers, took a deep inhale, and swooped down to seal his lips over Alex’s. Alex gasped at the unexpected contact, filling his mouth and lungs with smoke and causing him to cough reflexively. When he felt Michael’s weight shift, his body tensing to back away, he brought his hand to the back of Michael’s neck, keeping him in place as he breathed the smoke out through his nose. Michael froze and Alex squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to all the Gods he didn’t believe in as he tentatively started moving his lips. At first, it was just the drag of his own lips against Michael’s, slightly dry from the pot smoke and desert air, but then… then it was like Michael melted into him. His body relaxed back to partially rest his weight over Alex’s, his lips pressing harder and his tongue swiping invitingly over Alex’s. Alex surged into it, desperate to keep kissing him, to stop thinking for a while and just let things happen. His brain had other ideas.

First, he had to figure out what to do with his hands. The one on the back of Michael’s neck was nice, but the one lying on the ground between them… did he put it on his arm? On his chest? Lower? Much lower? As they kissed, he experimentally put it on Michael’s chest, fascinated by how he could feel his heart beating even through his shirt. In response, he felt Michael’s hand curling around his waist over his clothes. Dimly, Alex wondered what had happened to the joint, but he found he didn’t really care as long as Michael kept kissing him. Alex started to move his hand up Michael’s neck. He wanted to touch his curls again, tangle his fingers in them and maybe tug a little as they kissed, but Michael pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he panted, eyes wide and imploring as they looked down into Alex’s. Alex felt shock jolt through his system, making his fingers tingle as he stared up into Michael’s face. He weakly worked his mouth, trying to find the words to respond. ‘Why?’, ‘It’s okay’, and ‘Don’t be’ came to mind, but he didn’t know which one to actually say. “I just mean… you didn’t ask for all that.”

“I didn’t mind,” Alex finally answered in a quiet voice. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile and took it as a good sign that Michael hadn’t moved off him. Slowly, he raised his head as far as he could and pressed an opened mouth kiss onto Michael’s lower lip. He pulled back to do it again, and Michael’s eyes fluttered closed. The hand at Alex’s waist tightened briefly and that was all the warning Alex got before Michael’s mouth was pushing against his. This time Alex let himself sink into the feeling. He let his hands roam wherever they wanted to, let his mouth move against Michael’s, tongues touching and fleeing, let Michael shift and press a leg between his which felt better than it had any right to with so many layers of clothes between them.

Alex let out an unmanly yelp against Michael’s mouth when his cold fingers found their way under his layers of jacket, hoodie, shirt, undershirt and touched the bare skin of his stomach. Gooseflesh immediately erupted over his chest and back and he felt his nipples tighten at the shock of the cold. Michael was snickering into his shoulder as he continued to move his hand over Alex’s stomach and Alex continued to whine and flinch away from his touch.

“Stop it! Oh my God your hands are so fucking cold! Quit, quit, quit,” Alex yowled, making a grab for Michael’s hand and finding himself in a short grappling match. It ended up with him pinning Michael against the cold earth with his wrists beside his head as Alex straddled his waist. He bared his teeth at him in a fiendish grin.

“I win,” he said simply. Michael laughed again, body relaxed under Alex’s.

“Did you?” Michael asked, moving his hips in a way that suggested he was settling in, but definitely brushed his half chub against Alex in a way he couldn’t miss. Alex felt a flash of panic as he realized he didn’t know how to flirt like that, how to be casual and cool and sexy in the face of someone else actually desiring him. He let go of Michael’s hands and rolled off to sit next to him. He hoped the firelight was dim enough that Michael didn’t see the blush on his cheeks as he grabbed for the abandoned whiskey bottle and uncorked it to grab a sip. Michael sat up and watched him before taking the bottle and slugging down his own drink.

“That wasn’t a demand, ya know?” Michael said, voice subdued as he watched the fire burning down.

“I know,” Alex replied, feeling his cheeks heat up more. He pulled his knees up towards his chest and hugged them as he stared awkwardly at the fire, wishing he could go back to five minutes ago when they were pressed against each other and their mouths were all that mattered. From the corner of his eye, he could see Michael turn to look at him and he kept his eyes trained forward with every ounce of his being.

“You wanna head back in? It’s getting really cold,” Michael asked. He was giving Alex an out and Alex didn’t know if he felt grateful for it or annoyed.

“There’s a cabin not too far from here. Let’s go there. We can build another fire inside and just sleep there. Neither of us should be driving right now,” Alex offered, noting exactly how spinny the world was when he closed his eyes.

“You’re probably right. Is this like… a place you’ve been before? Is it abandoned or something?” Michael asked, sounding nervous and wary.

“No, it’s not abandoned. Kyle’s dad owns it,” Alex explained.

“VALENTI’S DAD?!” Michael exclaimed, laughing and shaking his head. “No way are we staying there. Holy shit, I can just imagine how bad that would be if we got found.”

“No, no, no. Sheriff Valenti and my dad are old friends. Mr. Valenti loves me. He’s given me, like, blanket permission to use the cabin whenever I need to. It’s fine,” Alex said, distracted by Michael’s mini-freak out enough to turn and hold his shoulders while he explained. “We won’t get in trouble. It’ll be fine. Sheriff Valenti is the exact opposite of my dad.”

Michael sat and looked at him, as if he could see the future and gauge whether the risk was worth the reward.

“Besides, we’d really be fucked if he caught us driving home this fucked up. He’d be happier knowing we didn’t try to operate a motor vehicle while under the influence. Seriously, it’ll be fine.”

“Man, okay. You sure it’d be fine?” Michael asked again, still looking like a rabbit ready to bolt.

“Dude, it’s fine. Let’s douse this with some sand and we’ll roll down there,” Alex said, standing up and holding his hand out to Michael.

“Thought we shouldn’t be driving?” Michael asked sarcastically.

“I mean, if you want to walk a mile in this cold, that’s fine, but I think you can be reasonably responsible to drive a mile in the middle of the night down a dirt road one mile per hour about idle. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine. We’ll walk it,” Alex offered. Michael had grabbed his arm and was poised to get pulled up, but Alex wanted to know his decision first.

“Yeah, it’s fine. We’ll take the truck,” he said and then Alex stepped back and pulled him up to his feet.

“Cool, then let’s throw some sand on this fire! It’s fucking cold,” Alex shouted, before going over to the bucket of sand that was always kept on the side of the fire pit and picking it up. He started slowly pouring the sand over the remaining flames while Michael went and grabbed a second bucket and took the other side of the fire to do the same. When it was dark, Michael went ahead to turn on the truck lights while Alex stirred the fire to see if any hot spots were left. By the time he was satisfied, the high beams were streaming over the edge of the fire pit and Michael was revving the engine to get it to warm up. Alex climbed out of the fire pit and got back into the truck, then slowly gave Michael directions on how to get to the cabin. When they pulled up in front of the cabin, Michael looked at it even more warily than he had the fire pit.

“This isn’t your murder cabin, is it? We’re not going to get stabbed by some dude in a shitty sports mask if we make out some more, are we?” he asked as he followed Alex up to the porch. Alex snorted and started feeling around the top of the door frame for the extra cabin key. When he found it, he opened the door quickly and ushered them both in. He flipped one of the light switches and the living room and kitchen lights came on, giving the rustic cabin a warm, yellow glow. He looked at the fireplace and grimaced. Unlike the firepit, the cabin was not ready for a fire to be lit. Sighing, he went back outside and grabbed a handful of logs off the porch pile and shuffled them inside.

Michael was walking around the inside rooms, looking at the walls and knickknacks scattered around.

“Hey, where do you guys sleep?” Michael called out. Alex turned from where he was stacking logs in the fireplace to see Michael standing in the kitchen with his hands on his hips twisting around as if another doorway would suddenly appear.

“There’s another building that’s a bunk house,” Alex explained, turning back to the fire.

“Are we going to sleep in there?” Michael asked, his voice coming closer. Alex could feel the vibration in the floor as he got closer and then the warmth of him standing behind him. Alex grabbed a rolled piece of fire starter from the box they kept nearby. He pushed it into the middle of the logs and grabbed a punk to light with his lighter. He pushed it against the fire starter and blew a little, waiting until he saw the fire starter catch before withdrawing the punk and throwing it on top of the logs. When that was finished, he turned to consider his options. He didn’t really want to run both fireplaces in the cabin. He’d have to clean them both out in the morning and that seemed like far too much work.

“Let’s go grab a couple mattresses off the bunks and drag them in here. We can push them together and cover them with blankets and stuff…if that’s cool with you?” Alex asked, looking up at Michael who’d been watching him work with the fire.

“That’s fine. I’ve got a couple sleeping bags in the truck I can bring in. We can use them as extra padding or extra cover,” he offered. Alex nodded and they smiled at each other. It was oddly wholesome, like they were just having a sleepover and nothing else.

They went out to the bunk house and Alex used the key to unlock the door. They grabbed a couple of the twin mattresses off the closest bunks and hauled them on their shoulders over to the main cabin. They put them on the floor next to one another and then while Michael went to his truck for the sleeping bags, Alex went back to the bunk house for pillows and some extra blankets. By the time they’d made their nest, the fire had warmed up the room to something almost near comfortable. Alex shrugged off his coat and hoodie, throwing them onto the couch, and then toed off his shoes before stepping onto the thin, cheap camp mattresses.

“You’re going to sleep in your jeans?” Michael asked incredulously. Alex looked down at himself and then at Michael. He had planned on it, but not if Michael wasn’t. He was already unbuttoning them as he gave his retort.

“What if I get cold?” he asked, trying to balance on one leg and work the skinny leg of his jeans off his foot with the other.

“I promise, I’ll keep you warm. I’ve been told I run hot,” Michael joked, stripping down to his boxers and nothing else. Alex tried not to get caught staring at him, but it was so much skin and he hadn’t mentally prepared himself for it. When Michael turned to pick up one of his fallen socks from when he’d chucked his clothes onto the couch, Alex got too distracted and ended up toppling over onto the mattress with only one leg free from his jeans. Michael looked over at him and grinned like he knew what had caught his attention. He reached over and grabbed Alex’s foot, swinging him around so he could work the other jean leg down around Alex’s foot.

“These are really not conducive to getting naked quickly,” Michael commented as he tugged and pulled at the denim to get them to slide down over Alex’s calf and heel.

“I wasn’t really expecting to need to get naked quickly tonight,” Alex snapped, bending his knee to pull it out of the jean leg.

“Didn’t have plans to be naked at midnight with someone?” Michael teased, tossing the jeans aside when they’d finally gotten them all the way off. Alex snorted indelicately and watched Michael drop to his hands and knees on the mattress beside him. He pulled his pillow over from the other side of the mattress until it touched Alex’s.

“Not really. I was just hoping to get a kiss,” Alex said distractedly while watching Michael curiously as he started arranging the covers to his liking. Michael looked up at the wall clock.

“We were probably making out at midnight. I think you got your wish,” he commented before dropping onto his side next to Alex. Alex felt a spasm of shock go through him. He hadn’t realized it was so late, that they’d missed the turning of the clock from one year to the next. He turned onto his side and faced Michael, looking him over thoughtfully.

“Happy New Year,” he said, smiling and running his hand down Michael’s arm affectionately. Michael spared a glance at his arm and then leaned in, pressing his mouth to Alex’s in a sweet, open kiss that made something in Alex draw tight with need.

“Happy New Year,” Michael breathed against his lips when they parted for breath. This time Alex felt bold, felt like it had to be more than a fluke of the fire and whiskey if they’d kissed twice over so many hours. He slipped his hand around Michael’s back and pulled their bodies closer together while sweeping his tongue across Michael’s to beckon him to kiss him deeper. Now there were fewer layers, less guessing, and more to explore for Alex’s hands as they kissed. He couldn’t get enough of the swell of Michael’s shoulder blades or the sharp curve of his hip bone, or the way his stomach felt as it bumped against his when they drew in deep breaths before diving back into each other. He was drowning in it, drowning in Michael touching him back, exploring his body too, and when he ran his hand under the leg of Alex’s boxers and grabbed his ass to grind their bodies together? Alex saw nirvana. It was the best thing he’d felt outside of his own hand.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Michael breathed, kissing over Alex’s jaw to his ear. Alex nodded, but he was too caught up in how hot and hard Michael’s dick felt through his boxers as it slid along the inside of his hip and wondering if he could get his hand on him, if he could put his mouth on him…

“You ever do this before?” Alex managed to gasp before slipping his fingers under the waistband of Michael’s underwear.

“Yeah,” Michael replied with a embarrassed, proud grin, “but not like with a…”

“A guy?” Alex supplied as Michael trailed off. They both let out a burst of embarrassed, hysterical giggles.

“Yeah, a guy. But also, not with someone I like as much as I like you,” he finished, bringing Alex’s face back to his so he could see the sincerity in his words. Alex felt like he’d been given a birthday present and kicked in the gut at the same time. He smiled slowly at Michael’s words and leaned in to kiss him, softly, sweetly, and with all the emotion he could muster but couldn’t put into sentences.

“I like you, too,” he managed after a few more kisses.

“I would certainly hope so,” Michael joked, bringing his hand between them to gently squeeze the line of Alex’s prick through the thin jersey material of his boxers. Alex glanced down and could see the dark spot at the tip of his cock. He looked at Michael’s underwear and was relieved to see a similar stain starting on his own underwear.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Alex asked breathily as he ran a finger lightly up the length of Michael’s hard on. His hips twitched in response to the stimulation and Alex felt a hunger for more rise in him at the motion.

“I… I don’t know? M-maybe, hand jobs?” Michael stuttered, his eyes drifting closed as Alex moved forward to kiss his neck and chest while his hand continued to softly pet his cock. Alex watched in fascination as his hand framed Michael’s covered dick while he stroked over the fabric. He wanted more to do more, wanted to see him, taste him, make him feel good.

“I think I want to try giving you a blow job,” Alex said almost absentmindedly. He heard Michael’s sharp, quiet gasp and his eyes came up to meet his.

“You want to?” Michael asked, eyes pleading that he say ‘yes’, but voice making it clear that Alex could say ‘no’ without any repercussions.

“Yeah, is that okay?” Alex asked, trying to convey the same thing with his eyes as he waited for Michael’s verdict.

“I mean, yeah, of course. I… have you ever done this before?” Michael asked hesitantly.

“No, but I mean… I’ve watched porn. I’ve done my research. How hard can it be?” Alex asked, starting to scoot his body down so he could more easily access Michael’s dick.

“Oh, just thinking about it makes it very hard,” Michael replied cheekily. Alex shot him an amused, appreciative grin at the joke.

“Okay, I’m going to…” Alex started, reaching for the waistband of Michael’s underwear. Michael’s hands met his and together they pushed and maneuvered his underwear off and then he laid on his back, bared in all his glory to Alex’s gaze. Alex tried not to stare, but Michael’s was the first real live cock he’d seen in front of him, hard, turned on, and for him to do what he wanted with. He catalogued all the differences between them. Michael was thicker than he was, uncut, and he seemed wider at the tip. Alex grasped him, running his fingers over the soft, velvety foreskin before taking a firmer grip and jacking him slowly. It was such a different sensation than he got from jacking his own cock, more fluid, and he loved watching the head of Michael’s cock disappear and reappear as his hand moved on him. He heard Michael softly exhale ‘Fuck’ above him as he kept moving his hand slowly up and down the shaft of his cock. The precum that beaded the tip was clear and shiny. Without overthinking it, Alex licked a broad stripe across the sticky head. The bitter, tangy taste took him by surprise, but he found he wanted more of it. Pulling back Michael’s foreskin he pressed his tongue over the slit of Michael’s cock before lowering his mouth to seal around the head and suck gently.

“Shit, I don’t know if I’m going to make it to the main event,” Michael hissed above him as Alex sucked on the head of his cock and moved his hand in tempo. Alex looked up through his eyelashes at him, not stopping what he was doing, and could see the strain on his face as he watched Alex’s mouth and hand on him. It made a flood of arousal wash through him to see how turned on Michael was getting, how so little was pushing him close to cumming already.

“Hey, switch sides,” Michael gasped, clutching at Alex’s shoulder. Alex popped off and gave him a confused look for a moment. “Like, bring your bottom half up here. 69!”

Alex scrambled to comply. He practically tore off his underwear and both of them rolled onto their sides to face each other. He took Michael in hand again and looked down between them to see Michael do the same. He did it confidently, like he’d done this before even though Alex knew he hadn’t, but it was so typically Michael to always act like he knew what he was doing. He’d at least been blown before so, Alex surmised, he had to know more than Alex. Michael glanced down and their eyes met and for a fleeting second, Alex could see in some microexpression that Michael was nervous too. It made him feel better, made him want to make Michael feel the way he’d felt earlier, so he closed his eyes and wrapped his lips around Michael again.

This time he felt more confident. He smoothed his tongue over the hard flesh in his mouth and pushed his lips further down Michael’s shaft until he felt him teasing the edges of the back of his throat and he knew if he kept pushing he’d gag. So he took what he could and moved his hand over what he couldn’t. He’d gotten caught up in a rhythm of sorts to what he was doing when he felt the first touch of Michael’s tongue against his dick. It was barely there, a warm pressure and then gone. When Michael came back with his whole mouth, Alex pulled back off Michael with a gasp. That was a completely different feeling, one that made his toes curl and the muscles around his spine tense with pleasure. When Michael added his own bit of suction, Alex felt sure he would blow.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he panted, leaning his head against Michael’s hip for a moment.

“Right?” he heard Michael say and without looking, he knew the bastard was smirking at him.

“So can we just agree that if each of us is embarrassingly quick, this was just a warm-up round?” Alex panted out, finally opening his eyes to glance down towards Michael’s face. It was a mistake, of course, because his lips were red and spit slick, and Alex’s own cock was only inches away from them, and Michael had just had his mouth on him and if possible, Alex felt himself get the tiniest bit harder in Michael’s hand at the sight.

“Yep,” Michael agreed succinctly, before diving back in. Alex had to concentrate not to buck his hips at the sudden sensation of Michael’s mouth on him, but he managed it. Trying to get his head back in the game, he drew Michael back into his mouth and regained his earlier tempo. A deep, throaty moan from Michael almost sent him spiraling over the edge as the vibrations ran the length of him. He echoed the sentiment and felt fine tremors run along Michael’s thighs. Slowing down, Alex decided to try to push his limit and see how much he could get of Michael in him. He moved his head down lower, trying to relax through the feeling of something blocking his throat. He pulled back and tried again.

“Shit, Alex, what are you-- Oh my god,” Michael was gasping above him, hand reaching down to cradle the back of Alex’s head. He didn’t push or put any pressure on him, just tangled his fingers in Alex’s dark locks and held on as Alex continued to slowly work him deeper. Michael tried to pleasure Alex at the same time, but it felt more like he just held him in his mouth and moaned as Alex moved over him. He didn’t mind. It felt powerful to have him so distracted, to have him whimpering and see his muscles twitching with how bad he wanted to move and thrust as Alex swirled his tongue around him and hollowed out his cheeks.

A clench of fingers in Alex’s hair and quickly frantic “Fuck, I’m gunna --” was all the warning Alex got before his mouth was flooded with Michael’s release. It wasn’t altogether pleasant, but he swallowed quickly in hopes the aftertaste wouldn’t be as bad. He backed off and looked down at Michael’s face. His cheeks were red from exertion, his mouth open and panting, and his eyes closed in something between pain and bliss. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked down at Alex, a lazy grin on his face.

“That was awesome,” he drawled, before sitting up and moving so he could capture Alex’s mouth in an overenthusiastic, sloppy kiss. Alex laughed at him, kissing him back and pulling him close, running his hands over all his new favorite places on Michael’s body. Michael’s hand reached between them and he grasped Alex’s cock.

“Is this okay?” he asked between kisses, hand moving purposefully over Alex. Alex nodded, pulling Michael into another kiss as he let himself get worked over. When he could no longer kiss because all his attention was on the rushing feeling through his body as he got pulled closer and closer to cumming, Michael started talking.

“You look so hot like this,” he murmured against Alex’s neck. “You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.”

“Fuck, Michael,” Alex gasped, hips starting to make small, aborted thrusts to follow Michael’s tight grip on him.

“You looked so hot with my cock in your mouth, so focused, like you loved doing it, like you were made for it,” Michael breathed into his ear. Alex could only whimper, his body drawing tight before he started shooting, cum hitting his chest and stomach, dripping over Michael’s knuckles.

“Christ, that’s a lot of jizz,” Michael said, before laughing lightly as he grabbed someone’s underwear and wiped off his hand and Alex’s torso. “What a load of --”

“Shhh,” Alex said, turning and covering Michael’s mouth with his before he could make another terrible joke. Michael hummed contentedly as Alex kissed it, slow and languidly as he came down from his high. When Alex could muster up the energy, he reached down and grabbed one of the blankets to throw it over them. Despite there being two mattresses, they were sharing one, knees tangled together, arms wrapped around each other, chests touching.

“So what does this mean tomorrow?” Michael asked quietly when they’d begun to drowse and could no longer keep kissing. Alex opened an eye and looked over at him, having noted the tension in his voice.

“What do you mean?” he asked, raising his head and propping it on a hand so he could look down at Michael.

“Like… are we together? Boyfriends? Friends with benefits? Is this like… a drunk tumble for the holiday?” Michael asked, swallowing thickly as he pushed out the last option. Alex frowned down at him, wondering where this was coming from, why he’d need to ask. Did he want it to be a drunk tumble?

“I… I figured it meant we were dating? Like… like boyfriends. But if you don’t want that I--” Alex never got to figure out what concession he’d make to keep getting to kiss Michael.

“No! No, boyfriends is good. I-I want to be your boyfriend. I just wanted to make sure you wanted that too,” he finished, focusing on Alex’s shoulder as he ran his fingers lightly over the curve to his arm.

“So boyfriends,” Alex said decisively, laying back down, arm extended out under his pillow. He couldn’t help the smile that stretched over his mouth or the excitement that crept into his voice as he said, as calmly as possible, “I’m your boyfriend.”

“You bet you are,” Michael pronounced, meeting his eyes finally and swooping in to kiss him through his own smile. Their teeth may have clacked together because they couldn’t seem to stop grinning, but it didn’t hurt and no one seemed to care.

The night passed quietly and slowly. They fell asleep against each other only minutes before dawn started to lighten the sky, the fire burned low in the fireplace behind them, their bodies spent from discovering each other over and over. It was the happiest Alex had ever felt, the safest and warmest as he laid with his back against Michael’s chest, feeling him breathe deeply as he slept.

“Boyfriends,” he whispered into the dark room, still smiling as he forced himself to close his eyes and lightly squeeze the arms that wrapped around him.

#happy new years #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #new years eve #rnm fic #tw: homophobic language #schmoop and smut

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coffeebeannate · 4 years ago

Photo

From This Prompt List

“If a person is destined to have a soulmate in this life, they will find that one of their eyes has changed colour, reflecting the colour of their anticipated soulmate.

For this to occur, the two must be in close proximity to one another (most studies say no less than several miles, but others claim that there have been some variations), and that, upon meeting, the eyes will revert to normal.

In some legendary, and notable cases, the eye colours will remain heterochromatic for the rest of their lives.

Of course, keep in mind that these stories are not always the same, and not every couple has a soulmate status. And that there is nothing less valid about non-soulmate couples.”

“Nicky?”

Nicky looked up, hastily closing the cover over his tablet, “Ah, sorry, can I help you?”

“The computers broken, again.” His co-worker sounds the most interesting combination of annoyed and sheepish, “Do we have to call tech support?”

“No, no, let me take a look, it’s alright.” Standing up from the desk, “The one we use for catalogue searching?”

“What else?”

He sighs, muttering curses under his breath, “Thing is about as good as a piece of scrap metal, at this point.” Resigning himself to an afternoon tinkering with the world’s most stubborn library resource computer. “It’s alright, go back to work, I’ll let you know if it decides to behave.”

“Thanks, Nicky, call me if you need help.”

“Yeah, yeah no problem” Facing the not-ancient but absolutely useless desktop, “You going to behave, or do we have to fight?”

Predictably, the computer blinks at him, Nicky sighs again and settles before it.

---

It isn’t that Nicky hates his life. Because he doesn’t, and despite what people might think, he’s fairly content. Working full-time as the head librarian might seem like an outdated job, but Nicky’s only 32, and he likes to argue that libraries are a vital part of society. Upgraded as they are, and some facets available entirely online. Besides, he had a degree in the stuff, and plenty of practice.

Andy might’ve had a series of interesting names for his life. His small apartment, three cats, more books and tech than is strictly necessary for a single man to have, and a car that is really a ridiculous thing, but it runs and he loves it and maybe the radio doesn’t work and it has no AC and the heater is also dying, but it’s a good car and he happens to find it charming.

He’s fine.

He’s dated, some one night stands, but nothing sticks.

“Are you reading that book again?” Andy asks, when she catches the soulmates book opened up on his tablet for what is definitely not the 10th, 12th, let’s not talk about it time.

“I think it’s comforting,” Nicky retorts, catching her look of disbelief.

“You know that in most cases, that shit’s a load of crap, yeah? Quynh and I have been married for eight years, no issue. She’s my soulmate, magical eyeballs aside.”

“I know I know..I just think it’s sweet.”

Nicky does not tell her that, for the last six or seven months he’s been glued to the damned thing. Everything feels antsy. He’s not an anxious man at all. His life has never felt empty, nor hollow. And yet, a few months back everything started feeling weird. Like he just couldn’t settle. Bee’s beneath his skin. Ghosting sensations across his scalp. Tingles.

He’d casually mentioned it during his yearly physical, but the doctor determined nothing out of sorts physically, and Nicky had been delaying calling a psychiatrist.

“Maybe you just need a change of scenery.” Andy suggested, stirring too much sugar into her coffee. ‘Maybe your library is finally getting to you.”

Nicky had declined to respond, but filed it away in the back of his mind regardless.

The morning that it happens, Nicky is running late, and doesn’t bother to look in a mirror much beyond ‘brushing teeth and running a comb over hair” before heading into work.

They’re finally upgrading the useless front computer, and he has to let the techs inside. Meaning he’s supposed to be at work an hour before he’d usually be, fiddling with his keys and muttering apologies as he opens the door fifteen minutes after he was supposed to let them in. Offering to buy them coffee for the troubles.

He’s that sort, after all.

He stands in the early morning crowd rush at the cafe yawning and buzzing, body thrumming with tension he can’t pinpoint, nor understand. It’s ridiculous and by the time he stumbles his way through the unfamiliar order, he feels much like he’s about to explode from it all.

The techs are thankful for their coffees, at least, Nicky tries to do some work in his office, and by the time he finally takes a break from his unsatisfactory work, it’s nearly noon.

There, in the libraries Men’s Room, is when he finally notices it.

His left eye isn’t grey, or green, or blue.

(Or whatever true colour his eyes seem to think they are)

It’s dark brown. So dark Nicky can barely see any other colour to it beyond pupil.

He blinks. Splashes water across his face, scrubs his cheeks.

It’s still there.

He takes a selfie with his camera, and stares.

Still there.

It’s still there after work, and the next day, and the Friday when he meets Andy for their usual after work time at the bar, Andy staring at him.

“So it’s not a contact?”

“No, I don’t wear contacts, or glasses! You know that.”

“You think your flowery soulmate shits legit then?”

“What else could it possibly be, Andy?”

Andy studies her beer, for once, she has no answer.

---

It is an extremely boring Wednesday morning when Nicky scrolls through his emails and finds something that bothers him for absolutely no reason at all.

It’s from one of the other departments, and it’s about the national art show being hosted at their oh so esteemed library. Nicky’s library is a popular venue because the building is historic and has a nice receiving room.

That’s not what bothers Nicky. He looks forward to this show. And it’s the first time he’d be in charge of much of it since becoming head librarian some eight months back, but no, it’s the shows headline artist that is prickling at him for yet again, reasons he can’t discern.

Nicky scrolls past the necessary details, but keeps going back to the beginning.

Headline Artist: Mixed Mediums. Classics with a Twist. Yusuf al-Kaysani

Nicky saves the email.

Again, no reason at all.

“Do you think it means anything?” He asks Andy and Quynh while four beers in and sitting on their couch.

“Some artist’s name you’ve never even met or heard of?” Quynh snorts, ‘Yep, definitely cracked some universal secret code there Nicky.”

He sighs, “Hand me another..”

Maybe they’re right.

Maybe he’s being ridiculous.

“Sorry, are you uh,,Nicky..Genova?”

Yes, okay, that does sound odd. But to his credit! He was named Nicolò thank you very much. His mother had made some comment about classics, traditions, blah blah.

“Yeah! Sorry just let me-”

He’s at the top of a ladder, fiddling with a birds nest, of all things. The outside of the library (again historic building) attracted plenty of them.

“Take your time, I don’t usually yell at people on ladders, on principle and all.”

The voice is nice.

It’s the dumbest thought Nicky has had in his head in months.

“Good practice, that.” Finally gasping the nest, starting to climb down the ladder, “Okay!” When he’s returned to solid ground.

“So, what can I do for-”

Nicky, quite elegantly, forgets how to think. Or breathe. Or do anything appropriately life sustaining like that.

The man before him, nice voice man, his brain helpfully supplies. is..gorgeous. And see, Nicky has SEEN gorgeous men and is nicely partial to them. But this man is gorgeous, attractive and, most distractingly, has one blue-grey-green who actually knows eye, and one dark brown one.

And! Nicky notices, has completely lost his own ability to speak. The two of them seem to amend this moments later by pointing at each other’s face mostly rudely, stunned and confused.

Nicky seems to find intelligent language first, but only manages to say, “..Are you Yusuf al-Kaysani?”

The equally stunned gorgeous man confirms this, and Nicky is quite sure he either faints, or dies.

(He does neither of these things, thank you very much)

“..It’s nice to meet you, Nicky.” Yusuf says, finding actual intelligence far before Nicky does. Nicky just swallows.

Their eyes never reverse to their birth states.

Not at the first date.

Not at the proposal.

Nor the engagement party.

Or the wedding.

10 years later, Andy remarks that ‘the most romantic bastard she knows’ would indeed, find an even MORE romantic sap, and that they’d have the perfect book romance.

Joe’s cleaning out the closet one evening when he finds a well-worn paper back version of the novel that Nicky had read endlessly on his tablet all those years ago.

“Hey babe, you never told me you had a paper copy of this.”

“Hmm?” Nicky pokes his head out of the bathroom, “I do? Oh, yeah, it’s a bit worn out.”

Joe flips open the cover of it, peering down into the slightly musty paper, reading aloud and finding his way to join Nicky at the vanity.

“Before reading this book, we must advise and remind that soulmates in this manner are rare, and that there is little scientific study to show a truth. Please do not fret if you never fall into this concept.”

Nicky hums, accepting the arm to his waist, the familiar kiss to his cheek, ghosting along the side of his lips.

“Go on,” Nicky says, casually.

“You know this story, my heart.” Joe chuckles, but continues.

“This rare phenomenon has been observed throughout history..”

#the old guard #kaysanova #au #soulmates au #prompt fic #prompt fics #fanfic #fic #nate does writing #oops this got longer than i anticipated #old guard au #nilefreemans #bi-leigh-bi

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commonwealthoccurences · 4 years ago

Text

Stuck

CW: Claustrophobia, hints of a panic attack description

Word Count: 2,043 Prompt: Elevatorfic Day: 15/27 Sole reflected on their willingness to clear out Nuka World, almost singlehandedly, as blatantly stupid. Sure, they had encountered a lot during their time in the Commonwealth, and the raiders not protesting at them volunteering wasn’t suspicious at all, considering how lazy they could be despite their greed. However, Sole was regretting everything they had volunteered to do for the ungrateful bastards about the time the elevator screeched to a halt and what lighting they had shattered on the floor next to their boots.

They’d already felt sick from the heat that pressed against their skin, bringing forth a layer of sweat that caused everything to stick to their skin. Gage wasn’t much better off, considering he felt the need to complain every two seconds about how he was sweating his balls off, despite the fact that he and Sole and just about everyone in Nuka World were in the same weather. They’d lost count of the amount of times they’d glared at him, trying to get him to shut up to no avail.

The realization that they had to travel down into the depths of one of the buildings to get a necessary chip had Sole begging the universe to grant them some sort of freedom from the heat. They would be underground, so it would be cooler there, right? They had to hold onto that hope, otherwise they were going to end up strangling Gage before he could get out another word.

That hope halted just as quickly as the elevator did, complete with the terribly bright sparks of metal on metal and jarring drop that nearly had Sole falling back into the wall behind them. A lantern they’d found and set up on a hook in the corner went crashing down as well, spraying the floor of the elevator with hot oil, causing Sole to suck in a whistling breath as they jumped out of the way. It cooled somewhat rapidly against the lukewarm metal floor. With no light and no escape from the heat, they were stuck.

Gage burst into another round of loud cursing, kicking at the doors that were quite content to remain tightly shut, sending Sole flying to wrench him away from the doors with a furious and exasperated, “Gage! It’s a fucking elevator, that’s not how it works!”

He yanked himself out of their grip and pushed them away, pressing a hand to his face as he began to pace in the limited area of the elevator. Sole wanted to feel bad but the heat had gotten them both riled up and irritated with everything that dared to move that day, and this was just another wrench in well set plans that would’ve had Nuka World up and running sooner rather than later.

With another kick to the walls of the elevator, Gage dropped down to sit on the floor, seemingly having already forgotten about the spilled oil. His head remained in his hands, braced against his knees as he attempted to shut out the area around him. Sole pried their fingers into the crack where the doors were clamped shut even though they knew how poorly that would go, and sighed in frustration when, exactly as they thought, nothing happened. With a shake of their head they turned away, back towards Gage, just barely able to see the outline of his form in the darkness.

The image of him curled in on himself with his arms braced on either side of his head like he was trying to protect himself from something was enough to have Sole tilting their head in confusion. Gage wasn’t exactly someone they’d say had a lot of fears, and whether that made him a little reckless, or he came across somewhat cocky because of it, Sole couldn’t say. What they did know was this was concerning and they had no idea what was causing it.

Internally cursing the heat that was beginning to build in the tiny space, Sole kneeled next to him, grimacing at the way their knee dipped into the pooling oil. For a second, they raised a hand to rest on his shoulder, but swiftly thought better of it when they remembered what his reflexes were like. Instead, they simply placed it on their thigh and muttered a quiet, “Gage, you okay?”

He heaved a breath and tilted his head back, looking at them with his jaw clenched and eyebrows creased. “The hell was it called before the War? Claustrophobic?” He tried to fake a laugh for fail of anything better, but failed, instead letting out a suppressed groan of discomfort.

Sole didn’t know how to help. That was the first thing they thought. He needed help and they didn’t know how to make things easier, to relieve some of the pressure that was inevitably crushing down on his chest. Even they were uncomfortable with how boxed in they were, sweating even more as the heat trickled in with no escape, amplified by their body heat. Sole dropped down to sit next to him, resigning them to accepting their fate in the oil, and leaned their back against the wall, looking over at Gage.

His eyes were now squeezed shut, his hands trembling where they rested on his knees, knuckles white from how hard he was gripping his legs in terror. Sole ground their teeth together, thinking. They had a direct line back to the camp, thank God, and someone would be over to help them out relatively soon once they made contact. Sure, no one really liked them and Gage, but things wouldn’t run smoothly without them. First they would make contact, then they could focus on Gage.

With that, they brought their Pip-Boy up to their face and tapped it to turn the light on, flinching as the green beacon filled the room. Despite the initial scare, it seemed to help Gage as he looked around, committing his surroundings to memory for fear that the light would vanish as soon as he got comfortable. Just a few more minutes and then they’d figure it out together. With a couple more taps, Sole navigated their way to the radio section and tuned into the raider frequency that allowed them to communicate. A familiar, grating voice came through just moments later. “What’s going on, Boss?”

Sole had to sigh at the situation. “Old elevator decided to fuck us over. Any chance you can get down to Kiddie Kingdom to get us out of this shitshow?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Caps. And I won’t skin you alive when I inevitably get out of here.” They snapped back.

The voice over the radio let out a laugh. “Sure, Boss. We’ll get movin’.”

Thank God they hadn’t fucked one of the factions over when they were splitting things up. Gage didn’t care much about making people cranky, but they knew at the time it would’ve come back to bite them in the ass. Sole dropped the arm that held their pipboy and began unbuckling it with a resigned breath, ready to get the weight off their limb and get what little air they could filtering over their sweating skin.

The Pip-Boy settled against the elevator floor with a few clangs of metal, not in the puddle of oil, the green light cast across the space hauntingly. It rested at an angle that perfectly accentuated Gage’s gaunt cheekbones and his hollow, tense expression that made Sole worry for him for the first time that they could remember. His breaths were coming much faster and shorter than they had been. He was panicking, and Sole needed to stop it before he really worked himself up. “Gage.” They spoke softly, but he jumped anyway. “I’m gonna put my hand on your arm, okay?”

Whether or not he had nodded in response or there was a shift of the light was up in the air, but Sole took it as a cue to move forward with their plan. They reached over and placed a hand on his arm, letting him get used to that for a moment, before sliding it down to his hand. Carefully, they worked their hand under his, turning it to grip him firmly in an attempt to ground him. After a moment of processing he grabbed onto them quite hard, like they were the only thing anchoring him. His breaths were getting even shorter. “Gage, breath. We’re just fine. Help’s on the way, you heard them, yeah? We’re gonna be okay, but we gotta be patient and wait for them to get here.”

“Hate it.”

“Hmm?”

“I fucking hate it. Feels like it’s gonna collapse on us.” He held onto them even tighter.

The metal shifting periodically in the building probably wasn’t helping him fight his fears. “These buildings have stood here for hundreds of years, they’ll last far longer after we leave. The elevators are built to last, too, Gage. Don’t let your brain trick you, okay?”

With that he turned and looked at them finally. His eyes were shiny, bordering teary, his jaw clenched so hard Sole felt their teeth begin to hurt in sympathy. They smoothed their thumb over the back of his hand, smiling softly in hopes it would be somewhat reassuring. Gage’s breaths were still ragged, far too uneven to be comfortable. Sole made sure he was paying attention when they shifted closer and turned towards him, bringing his hand that they were cradling towards their chest.

Gage rolled his eyes. “Now’s not exactly the time, Boss.”

Sole fought the urge to smack him across the back of the head, telling themself that he was only trying to cope with humor. They rested his hand flat against their chest and he watched warily, eyes curious. “You need to breathe with me. If you hyperventilate it’ll only make things worse, so let’s avoid that.”

Gage, surprisingly, agreed readily and nodded in response, swallowing harshly as he tested the position by adjusting the pressure of his fingertips against Sole’s skin. It was hot, far too hot, and they could feel how his skin felt like boiling water against theirs, but they told themself they didn’t mind and drew in a slow, long, even breath. Gage’s breath in return was much more ragged and choppy, but it was progress, and they’d take it.

With that Gage slowly brought his breathing closer to normal and was able to fight the lightheadedness that was making nausea rise in him. Neon danced along the walls, reflecting off the pool of oil and glass shards that had been scattered across the other side of the elevator, resembling some sort of radioactive underwater show. Sole watched the refractions with careful eyes, mentally crossing their fingers that someone would be around to free them sometime soon. They’d done all the dirty work, even got trapped in an elevator for it. All the raiders had to do was get there and find the external emergency release. God knows they’d complain about that too.

Gage’s posture slumped down, a contrast to the previous live-wire tension that had been running up and down his frame. He sighed and brushed a hand over his forehead, wiping sweat off his brow in a swift motion. His head was still bowed towards his lap, his hand on their chest as they looked over his shoulder at the bright display. With an exhausted breath blown between chapped lips, Gage simply leaned forward and rested his forehead against their crossed legs, hand coming down to land on their knee. Accepting the situation rather quickly, Sole picked up his hand again and worked their fingers between his, knuckles bumping uncomfortably and palms sticky. He squeezed their hand for reassurance. Checking to make sure they were still there in case he needed them. They squeezed back.

The pair let the silence creep by, simply accepting that they were in a short waiting game, whether they were to be rescued by the raiders or to pry their way out kicking and screaming if they had to. After a few beats, Gage spoke up in realization. “Aw, fuck! Of course the lantern broke.” He swore, realizing what he was sitting in. Sole had to sigh and looked to the ceiling to summon their patience.

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Fo4f #Fallout 4 February #Oneshot #Imagine #Fluff #Comfortfic #Elevatorfic #Stuck in an elevator #Fanfiction #Gage #Fanfic #FF

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yatorihell · 4 years ago

Text

In The Darkness Chapter 81 - The Deathly Hallows

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 2,638

Summary: The trio seek help finding the horcruxes.

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

Spring bled in slowly with April snowfall punctuated by bright sunny days. The last snow clung to frigid grass mounds and the hilltops, but the brightness of daffodils signalled that winter was over.

Yato explained the vision he had when the locket was destroyed; the feathered metal of some sort of tiara with a large blue gem in its center. The only clue they had to its location was Hogwarts.

“Perhaps it's Rowena Ravenclaw’s Diadem?” Hiyori suggested. “We thought that the horcruxes were linked to the founder's items in some way, maybe this is the next one?”

Yato nodded in agreement. The visions had let up slightly, but he felt a shift now. The Sorcerer must have felt the horcrux being destroyed; it was part of his soul, after all. It was all beginning to fall apart, piece by piece, revealing the location of each part of his soul, and he was powerless to stop it.

Something inside Yato thrummed with urgency, whether it was the nervousness of being traced or the excitement of final destroying a horcrux, he could not tell.

The next horcrux in their sights was Helga Hufflepuff’s goblet, but that presented a new challenge. Its location was shrouded in mystery, and the jewels and gems that filled it in Yato’s vision offered no clues.

After moving camp for the third time that week, they settled into the chilling afternoon sun and ate dinner. The radio filled the air with the latest updates – not that there were many to begin with over the last couple of weeks. Kazuma’s tinny voice rang out around them, crackled every now and then by the poor signal. The usual list of the dead and snatched and Wanted rang out, but there seemed to be no new restrictions or laws.

Perhaps the Sorcerer had implemented everything he wanted, Yato mused.

“We – I – hope that you are keeping safe during these times. W- I have nothing new to report on the Ministry’s activities, but I will update you as soon as we – I know.”

Yato scrunched his nose before digging into his food. He’d never heard Kazuma blunder so much when speaking unless Bishamon was involved, but it seemed she hadn’t joined him for some time. He wondered if Kazuma had even found a job, as the radio show seemed to be taking up so much of his time nowadays. Then again, not many employers would want to take on an illegal radio show host working against the Ministry of Magic in the first place.

“Thank you for listening. Yato, Yukine, Hiyori, wherever you are, whatever you need, you know where I am,” Kazuma signed off with the usual spiel he’d adopted in the last few months. The radio clattered for a second with a few mumbles before a click sounded, leaving the radio static.

They sat for a moment in silence, eating, before Yukine spoke.

“Do you think we should try contacting Kofuku?” Yukine asked.

Yato shot him a look, spooning stew into his mouth. “Why?”

Yukine shrugged. “She might know more about the goblet and the diadem if it disappeared when she was a student, or she can find out for us in the archives. Any clues would help.”

Yato made a face. It was a good idea, but with a large problem. “How could we contact her? We can’t go to her, and I don’t have Coo Phone.”

“It should be Easter break now; we might be able to reach her without anyone knowing,” Hiyori chimed in. Yukine nodded his agreement; it was already mid-April, so most teachers and students would have gone home for the holidays.

“What about Kazuma? He knows what’s going on, hell, he probably knows where they are,” Yukine suggested, pointing at the crackling radio. “He’s been saying that if we need help, we can go to him. Do you know where he lives?”

“Somewhere in Devon. A secluded, countryside mansion his parents rarely stay at as they’re away working for MACUSA,” Yato recalled, putting his bowl on the ground by his chair. “I went there once and broke his toilet. Never got invited back.”

“I wonder why,” Yukine said dryly. “Well, Kazuma should be able to get a message to Kofuku. Maybe we could arrange a meeting somewhere?”

“Could do,” Yato agreed. “We’ll just have to work out a way for her to get the message back to us.”

“Ok then,” Hiyori said, turning off the radio static. “Next stop, Kazuma.”

They packed up camp and Apparated at the closest village to Kazuma’s house. Shouldering their backpacks, Yato, Hiyori and Yukine made their way through the winding roads that led them into the countryside. Past the fields of cows and dilapidated barns, they came to a stately gate bordered by trees and two Griffin statues, though one was missing half of its head. The gates original purpose seemed to have failed to keep trespassers from entering through the buckled railings.

They started up the path, hugging the treeline until the house came into view. Kazuma’s house was indeed a mansion, though parts of it seemed to be crumbling along with the rest of the grounds. Hiyori and Yukine exchanged glances as Yato made his way up the path; it felt too exposed for them to just walk right up to the front door. Any worries they had weren’t shared by Yato as he looked back and waved them forward.

The front door was framed by a tangle of ivy that worked its way up and around the windows, spreading like a disease over the grand house. It seemed there was a hole in the roof judging by the protruding pigeon's nest overhanging them, the tiles charred by a small fire.

Yato rapped the bronze knocker three times, and almost instantly Hiyori saw a curtain twitch in the window. The door opened slowly, and a green framed eye appeared in the crack.

Yato smiled. “Surprise?”

The door swung open and Kazuma stood before them, haggard and unkempt, mouth open.

“You came,” Kazuma gawked.

Hiyori and Yukine once again shared puzzled looks, and Yato looked over his shoulder with a quizzical smile. “Is that ok? We’ve been listening to the radio-.”

“No, no! it's fine! Great! Come in!” Kazuma gushed. A grin had taken over his face, wider than they’d ever seen, giving him the appearance of a madman.

The house was even worse inside. It appeared he had no need for cleaning with no guests, but the state of the kitchen peaking at them from the end of the hallway was worrying. Kazuma led them to what should have been a dining room, but it was too full of newspapers and radio equipment to see a table beneath it. A small desk sat by the window, bathed in grey sunlight that filtered through the torn net curtain. On it sat a radio, a microphone, and two sets of headphones.

They avoided touching anything as they picked their way through the debris before stopping in the middle of the room.

“Were you born in a barn?” Yukine grumbled to himself, but it went ignored.

“We’ve followed your radio show,” Yato explained. “And we need a favour. You’re the only one who can help.”

Kazuma nodded, his smile slipping slightly and a troubled frown coming into his brow.

“We were hoping you could get a message to the Order,” Yato said. “We know what the next horcrux is, but we need some help tracking it down.”

“Yes, yes,” Kazuma murmured, though it seemed he wasn’t really paying attention. His eyes kept sliding to the window as if worried someone would burst in and find Public Enemies One, Two, and Three all in his house.

“Do you have an owl?” Yukine asked.

“Yes.”

There was a pause. No one moved. Kazuma fiddled with his thumbs, looking out the window.

Yato cocked his head slightly. “Could you… get it?”

Kazuma snapped out of his thoughts at the suggestion. He nodded and left the room.

Yato shook his head and began riffling through the bits of parchment that had taken over the table. “I think he’s lost without Hogwarts. Too much time away from Bishamon and books. Try and find a pen.”

Yukine and Hiyori set about diving through the rubbish in search of something to write with. At the back of the house, they could hear Kazuma rummaging around, shortly followed by a soft owl hoot and a ruffle of feathers.

Yukine looked around, noticing that two chairs had been pulled away from the table to huddle around the makeshift radio station. There was a mug and plate growing mold in the window sill, but the other mug was fresh with coffee. It seemed odd since Kazuma was the only one home.

There was more scraping – from their search as they found and handed a pen to Yato – and from the kitchen as a door opened and closed. Yato scribbled out a note, detailing that they needed to find what happened to Helga Hufflepuff’s goblet.

“Look at this,” Hiyori said. They turned to look at her, seeing she held a battered copy of the Daily Prophet, dated to only a few months ago. The headline read ‘TENJIN’S GRAVE DISTURBED’.

Yato frowned. “Why would anyone break into his grave?”

Yukine shrugged, waiting for Hiyori to stop skimming the pages for answers, but none came. They heard footsteps in the hall, and Yato turned to ask Kazuma.

“Kazuma, what happened…” Yato started, but then Kazuma rounded the corner and stood in the doorway. They looked at him and his empty hands. All thoughts of the Daily Prophet slipped from their minds.

“Where’s the owl?” Yato asked.

Kazuma blinked at him. Had he forgotten to bring it? What had he been doing?

“She’s sleeping,” Kazuma answered, but the lie was flimsy.

They looked at him for a long, unsettling moment. The Kazuma they knew didn’t act like this. He didn’t live like this, or look as disturbed in the eyes as he did at this moment. Yukine’s eyes slid back to the pairs he’d noticed in the room. Two mugs. Two plates. Two chairs. Two headphones.

One person.

“Who else is here, Kazuma?” Yukine asked lowly. His hand was already reaching for his wand, and the flicker of Kazuma’s eyes told him he noticed.

“What do you mean? It’s just us,” Kazuma said, hands splayed.

The silence of the house confirmed it, but it still set them on edge. Something – someone – was amiss.

Hiyori’s voice cut through the tension. “Where’s Bishamon?”

Yato turned his head to look at Hiyori. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, eyes ablaze. Just like Yukine, she’d noticed the extra items.

Kazuma stammered for words. “W-what do you mean?”

“I know she has been living here. Your parents are in America, but there are two mugs out and two chairs around that radio. Wasn’t Bishamon doing the radio show with you until recently?” Hiyori replied.

Yato looked back at Kazuma. She was right. Bishamon had been a regular guest on the show, recanting Quidditch tales and the like, but she was nowhere in sight. It had been months since they’d heard her, and it looked like it had just been Kazuma for a while.

“Where is Bishamon, Kazuma?” Yato asked lowly.

“I had to,” Kazuma said shakily. “I had to bring you here.”

Yato pulled his wand from his pocket in sync with Hiyori and Yukine. “Why have you brought us here?”

“They said they’d kill her –,” Kazuma started.

“You tried to steal the Sword of Gryffindor, didn’t you?” Yukine cut in.

Kazuma whirled at the question, eyes frightened behind his glasses at the mention of it.

“A while back, you said the Sword of Gryffindor was moved to a safe location,” Yukine continued. “It’s because you tried to steal it, wasn’t it?”

Kazuma nodded after a moment. “Madame Kofuku told us about the will, and how the Sword of Gryffindor was meant to go to you. We tried to steal it using the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement-.”

“We?” Hiyori pressed.

“Me and Bishamon.”

“What happened?” Yato asked.

Kazuma stammered silently for a moment, mouth opening and closing. “We got caught. Oshi, all those Deatheaters… they tortured us, to find where you were. When they realised we didn’t know, they sent me back to catch you… They… they took Viina-.”

Kazuma broke off in a choke, hand pressed to his mouth.

“Where’s the owl, Kazuma?” Yato growled, but he already knew. It would be at the Ministry by now.

“I’m sorry!” Kazuma choked. “I couldn’t leave her to die!”

“Yato!” Hiyori’s warning rose. Dark figures blurred by the window, the rush of black robes caught in the wind as they sailed past the house.

“Shit!” Yukine swore, raising his wand to the window. “Kazuma, you bastard!”

“Out!” Yato roared above the blubbering mess Kazuma had become, begging for forgiveness, begging for understanding, but Yato wouldn’t hear it.

He pushed Yukine and Hiyori out of the dining room and down the hallway to the kitchen. The front door shattered to pieces behind them with a red flash and they heard Kazuma scream. Yukine pressed his back against the wall next to the back door, and Hiyori ducked low against the counter, peering beneath the window drapes to see the swirling figures on broomsticks.

“Stupefy!” Yato cursed a Deatheater as they stepped into the threshold of the house, but he could see more running up to take his place.

Yato slammed the door shut and pressed his back to it, swearing under his breath. He looked to Hiyori. She looked back, terrified.

“We have to go. Now!” Hiyori hissed.

Yato caught Yukine’s eye and nodded. He reached for the door handle and flung it open, and Yato burst outside in a wave of curses that returned tenfold at him. The house opened up into a wide field with a sky of Deatheaters above it, and beyond it, a forest.

He didn’t need to look back to know that Hiyori and Yukine were hot on his heels, sprinting across the stretch and deflecting spells more than they could send them. Deatheaters advanced and swooped at them, fingers just missing their hair and clothes as they staggered to the edge of the wood, slipping down the muddy trails and over tree roots deeper into the thicket.

Spells hit and scorched trees as they weaved their way through the woods, heaving and panting, stumbling, and tripping. Flashes of red and blue lit the woods ahead of them, the crunches of feet on bracken behind them telling them that the Deatheaters were now persuading on foot. Whoops and shouts rose, calling directions and strategies that were lost on the wind that whistled past their ears as they blindly stumbled through the woods, unable to reach each other to Disapparate.

Hiyori stumbled down a slope, a clearing opening up before her where more voices could be heard. Panting hard, she just barely heard approaching footsteps behind her, and Yukine’s shout.

Hiyori spun, wide-eyed as she realised Yukine had been Snatched. It was of little relief when she saw Yato cresting the slope, throwing glances back over his shoulder and running at full pelt towards her. Hiyori realised with a sickening dread that there was no way out ahead or behind. If they caught Yato it was game over…

But what if they didn’t know it was Yato?

Hiyori had no time for thought as she raised her wand. The Stinging Jinx hit Yato square in the face and he fell backward like he had hit a wall. A pained grunt slowly escaped his swelling lips, and Hiyori said a silent apology.

Above the crest, Hiyori saw the Deatheaters and Yukine – bound by Incarcerous – in tow.

They had been Snatched.

#noragami #noragami aragoto #yato #yukine #china #kazuma #hp au #Harry Potter #in the darkness

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storiesbymads · 5 years ago

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EIGHTEEN ( joe liebgott . )

Y/N met Joe a few days after she graduated from high school. loosely based off the one direction song.

warnings: none but it gets kinda sad @ the end ig

wc: 4.3k

Graduation was days away and Y/N could feel the air escaping her lungs just thinking about it. She had been dreaming about this day for the past twelve years and it was actually happening. Although, now that it was here, the moment felt bittersweet. She was about to leave all the childhood friends she’d made for a junior college across the country in San Francisco. It was almost too surreal for her to handle. A week from now, she’d be somewhat situated in an apartment she’d only seen once without her parents or really anyone that she knew. She would be starting her life.

The last few days of senior year could not have gone by any slower. Final exams had been the week prior so the classes she was attending were really just excuses for all of her classmates and teachers to get emotional about the time they’d spent together. Y/N counted down the minutes until she could finally get out of there. While some of the girls she’d come to know as her best friends were allowing themselves to shed a tear or two and give close to a million hugs to people they’d shared maybe a conversation with in their time there, Y/N kept finding herself in her daydreams about what her new life was going to be like.

“I cannot believe it’s our last day of high school,” her friend Annabelle said. There were about twelve girls all scrunched up at one lunchroom table in an already overcrowded lunchroom. Thankfully, the number had dwindled slightly over the years and now Y/N at least had enough room to put her elbows on the table when she was eating.

“I know! I’m gonna miss you girls so much,” another girl named Cecile said. Y/N swore she saw the slightest hint of a tear in her eye as she said it. Y/N took a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich without another word.

The amount of nerves surrounding her as she stood on the small auditorium stage astounded her. She attended a small school with her graduating class maxing out around 200 and yet the room felt like it was about to explode. All of the classmates around her were decked out in the signature royal blue of their highschool with bright smiles and hazy eyes from the brightly flashing cameras. Y/N fidgeted with the tassel on her cap as she waited for the ceremony to begin. A few of her friends were sitting a few feet away from her. The deafening heartbeat in her ears stopped her from being able to hear what they were talking about. It wasn’t until one of them nudged her ribs that she realized the lights had dimmed slightly and everything was starting.

The announcer’s speech, thankfully, hadn’t lasted longer than a few minutes and the graduates had started making their way across the stage. Before Y/N knew it, she was walking across the stage and shaking hands with the principal and various other administrators she’d come to know over the years. Her legs were numb and she was surprised--and very grateful--that she made it across the stage without so much as tripping. She even silently thanked her mother beforehand for discouraging her from wearing the three-inch pair of heels in her closet.

“The Class of 1936! Congratulations!” her principal announced as a wave of blue filled the air. There were graduation caps everywhere across the auditorium. It was going to be extremely difficult to tell whose was whose at the end of the day but that didn’t stop a single student from completing the tradition. One student’s cap even managed to land in the rafters for a few seconds before coming down.

It was difficult to locate her parents in the crowd in the moments after. Everything seemed to be simultaneously happening in slow motion and hyper speed since her first step across the stage. She spotted the top of her mother’s head across the room and rushed over to meet them. Both of her parents had been leaning up against the wall near the exit speaking to another couple until they noticed her semi-running towards them. Her father pulled her into a tight hug and made a comment about an eyelash messing with his eye the entire ceremony. She gave her mother a soft smile when he finally let her go. Her parents gave a small goodbye to the couple next to them and joined hands with their daughter on the way out of the highschool for seemingly the last time in their lives.

The sound of her alarm clock buzzing at 6:30 in the morning caused a loud groan to fall from Y/N’s lips as she begrudgingly pulled herself from the warmth of her duvet and into her adjoining bathroom to start her day. It was moving day. Well, technically. Most of her furniture had been shipped out to her apartment a few days prior but today was the official moving date. She had to be at the train station by 8:00 with the last of her belongings. Judging by the fact that Y/N was brushing her teeth with her eyes still very much closed, it was evident that she was very much regretting choosing the earliest departure time to San Francisco available.

Her two suitcases were packed and stacked next to the front door of her parents’ home and she kept glancing at them during the entire duration of breakfast. In her mind, she was going over every item that she needed to bring and checking the mental checklist she’d gone over about twenty times over the past two days. She knew it was overly redundant but she couldn’t bear the thought of forgetting something and not being able to retrieve it until the next major holiday. It was unlikely, though, that she would forget something as her childhood bedroom was practically barren save for the twin bed and the wire coat hangers in her closet.

“Honey, if you look at those suitcases one more time,” her mother lightly scolded. She was glad her daughter was so excited for something but she was still slightly bitter to the thought of her daughter leaving home so soon after graduation.

“I’m sorry! I can’t help it,” she sighed. The plate of eggs and bacon had barely been eaten--mostly just moved around with a fork--and was growing colder by the minute. Y/N knew she wouldn’t be able to eat with the amount of nerves building up in her stomach. She spared a final glance at the luggage

“Your mother’s right,” her father sighed and blew the steam off of his cup of coffee. Y/N was surprised to see the newspaper usually tightly clutched within her father’s fingers nowhere in sight.

“So, what’re your plans for the day?” Y/N asked after a few moments of silence. She had completely given up on her plate of food and had pushed it further towards the center of the table.

“Oh, you know. Mope around the house wishing our baby were still here with us,” her mother said dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from her face.

“Very funny.”

“She’s not joking,” her father chuckled into his mug. It was odd to see him this way. Both of his hands were tightly wrapped around the white porcelain and he still had his reading glasses on rather than the contacts she was so accustomed to seeing. Come to think of it, her mother looked quite strange, too. She was still in her evening robe and had made no effort to remove the curlers from her hair.

“Are you not accompanying me to the train station?” Y/N asked. She watched her parents share knowing glances before they each turned towards her.

“Your father thinks it’s best if we say our goodbyes here. He knows I’ll cry like a banshee if we do it in public and he wants to spare you the embarrassment,” her mother said.

“Oh,” Y/N mumbled and glanced down at her fingers fiddling with the hem of the tablecloth. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Oh Honey-”

“We can come with you if you want!”

“No, no. Dad’s right. Plus, if you start crying I’m sure to start crying and then where would we be,” Y/N allowed an airy laugh to brush past her lips at the thought of her and her parents all crying and smushed together in a dysfunctional group hug.

Due to the fact that Y/N had taken probably the longest nap in her life on the train, her legs felt as stiff as the concrete beneath her feet as she tried (and failed) to make her way out of the station in a normal looking way. Every step looked more like a waddle combined with the luggage that felt ten times heavier getting off than getting on settled on either one of her shoulders.

“Need some help with that, doll?” One of the various taxi-cab drivers asked. It took her a second to locate which one was addressing her but it was easy enough to identify him when she noticed him quickly approaching her with a hand out.

“Uh,” she mumbled. “Yeah-Yes. That’d be great, thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” he sent her a wink as he helped her load the luggage into the trunk of the bright yellow vehicle. Y/N allowed herself to take in the appearance of the man as she got into the backseat and told him her destination. He was quite skinny but that didn’t take away from the overall build of him. In fact, it seemed to make her more attracted to him. His lips seemed to be plastered in a permanent smirk and his hair was way too perfect for him to just have thrown some gel in it and called it a day. It was good enough to land him a hair modeling gig, in her opinion.

“How long will you be staying?” the driver asked and made eye contact with her through the rear-view. His eyes had a mischievous glint to them.

“I don’t look like a regular to you?” she asked with mock offense.

“With that accent? Not a chance, dollface,” he said. They retained eye contact for a few more seconds before his sight flickered back to the road in front of him. Y/N was thankful for the added background noise of the radio at that point.

“You’re actually taking me to my new place,” Y/N said after a few moments of awkwards silence. She found herself fiddling with a slightly ripped piece of leather on the seat beneath her. She felt his eyes on her but by the time she looked back up at the mirror his eyes were focused on the road once more.

“How do you know I’m not a creepy stalker? Now I know where you live,” he joked as he reached a red light. She was able to get a good look at his eyes in the mirror now. The sunlight coming in from the windshield allowed her to notice the swirl of chocolate in his irises. Multiple car honks behind them startled the driver into pressing on the gas a little too quickly, startling Y/N and almost causing her to faceplant into the back of the seat.

“Sorry about that, doll,” he muttered and adjusted how he was sitting ever so slightly and allowed one of his hands to rest on the center console rather than the wheel.

“So, are you?” she asked.

“What?” his eyebrows scrunched together and his grip on the wheel tightened.

“Are you a stalker?” Y/N allowed herself to relax into the seats more. She didn’t really care if he was a stalker. She just never wanted him to stop talking.

“You’ll be glad to know that I am not, Miss…” he voice trailed off, obviously asking for her name.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Joe Liebgott. Nice to make your acquaintance, dollface,” he sent her another wink through the mirror. Y/N felt her heart sink slightly when she noticed her apartment building only a few feet away.

By the time Joe had found a parking spot in front of the building, Y/N could feel her heart all the way in the souls of her feet. She had no idea why she was reacting this way. She had only known this man for, what, twenty minutes? And their one striking conversation had been about whether or not he was a stalker. She had no right to get this attached to him.

“You know,” he started. “I could give you a tour of the city if you’d like. You know, since you’re new and all.” He flashed her a million-dollar smile as he handed her the two pieces of luggage from the trunk.

“I think I would really enjoy that, Joe.” Her heart was beating so fast it could have jumped right out of her chest and made it back to her parents’ house before she was able to get inside her new apartment.

“Great,” he said. He opened up the passenger side of the cab so that he could reach into the glove box. He pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and began scribbling on the blank side of the receipt he had just pulled out of the compartment before handing the small piece of paper to her. In very messy handwriting, she noticed he had written Joe (not a stalker, he promises) followed by a phone number and a smiley face below all of it.

“I’ll make sure to call you, Not-a-stalker-Joe.” Y/N’s face had heated up an extreme amount and she hoped that Joe wouldn’t think anything of it.

A few days passed before Y/N worked up the courage to actually call Joe. Maybe it was the fact that it was eleven o’clock at night. She always had been braver when she was tired. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t been able to get the cab driver out of her mind since he dropped her off at her place. Especially at night when she was alone with her thoughts. He got her head spinning and her heart racing without even being in the same room as her. She could only imagine what it would be like when she took him up on that tour offer.

“Hi, is this Joe?” she asked as politely as she could. She regretted calling the second he picked up.

“Depends…” his voice was raspier than it had been a few days ago. There was a possibility that Y/N had woken him up. “Who is this?”

“Y/N,” she said. Her nerves were skyrocketing at this point. The past week or so had not been easy on her heart.

“Who’s the stalker now?” he chuckled lightly into the phone. She heard rustling from the other side and assumed he was moving around on his bed. Having the phone by the bed seemed like a smart idea to her and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of moving hers there.

“You gave me your number, you know,” she said, twirling the cord around her finger.

“For a tour of the city. Not a late night rendezvous,” he said.

“I’m sorry. I can call again in the morning.” Her face was burning with embarrassment; the pressure managed to trail all the way down her spine, it seemed.

“No, doll, don’t worry about it. It had been a pretty boring night anyway,” Joe sighed. Y/N could imagine him running his hand through his hair. Then the image of running her hands through his hair popped into her mind.

“So, about that tour?” she asked. She really hoped she wasn’t being too forward. He was the one that offered.

“You up for it? Tomorrow’s my off day so you called just in time,” he said.

Y/N was barely able to sleep an hour that night. She didn’t know if it was the nerves (it was) or if it was the seemingly endless downpour of rain outside. After her fifth wake up, she decided trying to sleep was a lost cause. She slipped out of bed and out of her bedroom into the open concept of the rest of her apartment. The clock on the wall beside her stove let her know that it was edging on 4:15. Somehow, she managed to turn on her coffee pot and actually make herself some in her zombie-like state. She felt the liquid warm her right down to the tips of her toes.

Around 7am Y/N was beginning to regret skipping out on anymore sleep. Her eyes were droopy and she could barely keep them open long enough to read more than a paragraph on the morning paper. She figured this would be as good a time as any to start getting ready. She probably should’ve worked out a better plan with Joe before hanging up last night; she had zero percent of a clue as to when he would be picking her up that morning.

Y/N’s shower lasted longer than usual due to her starting the whole ordeal by just standing under the hot water with her eyes closed for about ten minutes. She’d even let her mind wander to thinking about Joe being in said shower with her but quickly shook the thought away as she began applying her coconut scented body wash. By the time she was finished, the originally scalding water was beginning to grow cold and Y/N was practically shivering trying to push the hot-water knob past its limit.

She decided to fix herself a third cup of coffee after getting dressed to aid her in doing her makeup in a way that wouldn’t make her look like a raccoon. A few years ago she had tried to do a Smokey eye after about three hours of sleep and she was not going for a recreation of that this morning.

9am was beginning to roll around when she heard a knock on her door.

“Morning, doll,” Joe said when she opened the door. He had his hair slicked back and a collared shirt left unbuttoned about three buttons.

“How’d you know which apartment was mine?” She chuckled lightly. She could have sworn he hadn’t followed her up to her door the previous day but she could’ve been wrong.

“I watched from my car to make sure you got in okay. I was really hoping I remembered which door it was and didn’t go knocking on some old lady’s door,” he said and ran one of his hands through the gelled hair. Y/n glanced over the balcony of the complex to see the bright yellow taxi parked in the exact spot it was in yesterday.

“That was very sweet of you, Joe,” both of them had a slight red tint to their faces as they made their way down the stairs and to the taxi. He opened the door for her before jogging around the front of the car to get in himself.

“The best tour of your life begins now,” he said before starting the car up.

“So how old did you say you were?” Joe asked after about twenty minutes of awkward silence.

“18. You?” Y/N said. She really hoped he wasn’t 37 or something or this whole ordeal would have gotten really awkward really fast.

“21,” he said and turned down the radio knob ever so slightly. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about how nice his fingers looked. “Now our first stop…”

It had been months since Y/N had first met Joe but she swore it felt like the pair had known each other forever. She felt more comfortable around him than anyone else she had ever met. They went on one or two more dates after their tour before Joe asked her to be his girlfriend. Everything between them was moving incredibly fast for Y/N’s usual tastes but she couldn’t be happier at the given moment. Joe made her feel alive. Her fingertips burned with every touch and her insides were practically doing backflips any time he complimented her or so much as held eye contact with her.

“Good morning doll face,” Joe said with his raspy morning voice that Y/N adored more than anything. She groaned with displeasure at being roused from her sleep but she gave him a soft smile when she finally opened her eyes. Joe was running his fingertips lightly across Y/N’s bare back as the thin sheets of his bed covered their lower halves. Her hand moved from being placed at the top of his abdomen to gently stroking his jaw. There was the faintest of stubble growing in and she would never tell him how much she really loved it.

“Morning, handsome,” she mumbled into his chest. She began trailing kisses from his chest up to his collarbone and back down again. Joe used his free hand to stop her antics and pull her face up to kiss his lips this time. In a few short moments, Joe was able to flip the pair of them to where he was resting over Y/N with one of his hands beside Y/N’s shoulder to support his weight and the other securely positioned on her jaw.

“That was a very good way to wake up,” she said and ran her thumb across his slightly swollen lips. He let out a soft laugh before poking her in the side and laying down on the bed beside her.

“I think I’m going to go get a shower. Care to join me?” He asked with a smirk. They had showered together before but it had never ended with them cleaner than when they entered.

“Not today, baby,” she said, which earned a very over exaggerated groan from Joe as he forced himself out of bed and into the connected bathroom.

She, too, pulled herself out of the bed and grabbed Joe’s button up off of the floor and buttoned it up just enough to cover all the necessities. She heard the creak of the hot water knob as she exited the bedroom to make herself some much needed coffee. Neither had gotten the recommended 8 hours of sleep and she was wondering how Joe was able to be so animated about everything already.

Their one-year anniversary came around faster than anything that Y/N had ever experienced. One day she was living in her parents home desperate to graduate from high school and now she was living in her boyfriend’s apartment (unbeknownst to her parents) and celebrating a whole year of dating. And it had been the most magical year of Y/N’s life.

“More wine?” Joe asked her as he pulled himself off of the couch. Y/N whined slightly as her side was hit with a gust of cold wind.

“Yes, please,” she said and handed up her empty wine glass.

“You got it, doll,” he sent her a wink and went into the kitchen to fill both their glasses. Y/N couldn’t help but watch him the whole time. She never thought that she’d be this head over heels for a man— especially this far along in a relationship. Before Joe, the longest she’d had a boyfriend had been about two months and they barely even talked during that time.

Joe glanced over at her from the kitchen just barely making eye contact with her before Y/N shifted her gaze to the record player in the corner of the room near the small television. It had been playing static for about an hour now but the both of them were too comfortable to care enough about flipping it.

“I love you, Joe,” Y/N said after a few more moments of silence. There was a loud crash in the kitchen that caused her to surge up from her seat and rush over. Before she was able to bend down to clean up any of the broken glass, though, Joe pulled her in by the hips to smash his lips against hers.

“Say it again,” he said when he pulled away with the biggest grin Y/N had ever seen.

“I love you, Joe.”

“I love you, Y/N/N. So much,” he pulled her in for another kiss, sidestepping around the broken wine glass to set her on the kitchen counter and placing himself between her thighs. His hands trailed from her hips to rest on the sides of her knees.

Almost four years had passed since then. Joe was set to leave for boot camp this afternoon and Y/N was barely functioning at this point. He had become such an integral part of her life since she arrived in San Francisco. She had no idea what she would do if he didn’t come back to her. Hell, she barely had a clue what she would do if he did come back to her. She knew nothing would be the same after all of this.

“I’ll write to you whenever I get the chance, baby doll. I promise,” he mumbled into her hair. Y/N had not left his side once in the past week and she didn’t plan on leaving it until he was on that train.

“I’m going to miss you so much, Joey,” she said.

“I know. I’m gonna miss you too.”

“I’ve loved you since I was 18 years old, Joe. I’m 22 now and somehow I love you more and more each day. Promise me you’ll come home to me,” she said. There were tears beginning to leak out of the corners of her eyes. He wiped one away with the pad of his thumb.

“I promise to try as hard as I can to come home to you, baby doll,” he said and pressed another kiss to her hair.

#joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #joe liebgott imagine #joe liebgott x reader #joseph liebgott imagine #joseph liebgott x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #bob #hbowar #hbowar imagine #hbowar x reader

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marvelyningreen · 4 years ago

Text

It Will End in Rain

Part 3 - Cloudburst

(Previous | Next)

[Summary: They were letting Skye stay at the school while she recovered. Another couple days, and she’d be on her way. But leaving was for the best. If she was back on the road, she wouldn’t have time to think about the things Logan and Hank said.

Warnings: mild language, allusions to emotional abuse

Notes: Generally follows XCU canon. ]

It was pretty quiet in this part of the mansion, which was surprising, considering the fact that the place was a boarding school. Maybe the students roomed in another part of the building, and this area was mainly for guests.

Skye seemed to be the only one at the moment, though. Aside from the people who’d come to see her and what she assumed were custodians passing through, it was quiet. Peaceful, even. Like the world’s ritziest bed and breakfast.

Skye wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but, she had to admit, this place wasn’t anything like she’d guessed. She’d envisioned, well… a military school, more or less. Mutants lived here and trained to be heroes, right? She’d expected things to be all regimented and stuff, or at least businesslike and industrial, like it’d been with the -

Nevermind that.

While looking out the window once, she saw those twins walking around the grounds, talking and laughing with a red-haired woman and a tall blond man. Their parents, maybe? Were there whole families here? Definitely different than what Skye expected.

The people weren’t really what she’d expected either. Well, she hadn’t met too many of them, but still. Those twins were pretty thoughtful to stop by before class to bring her a radio and some books. (The Lord of the Rings trilogy, no less. Skye got the feeling that Billy somehow knew she was a fantasy nerd.)

And she was surprised that Professor Xavier was so… personable? Whether he actually cared or not, he at least did a good job of acting like an approachable person, which you wouldn’t really figure from one of the most powerful mutants alive. Still, it was really unnerving to be around somebody who could hear everything she was thinking. Maybe the other people at the school were used to it, but Skye had a hard time relaxing when he was in the room.

And then there was that doctor, Hank.

Back when she was seventeen, when she’d gotten stabbed, her own parents were out of town. It was Michael’s mom (the only person who knew the truth about what’d happened to them) who invited Skye to stay at their house while she recovered. It must be a parent thing, Skye had thought. Skye was the same age as Michael, and she was mothering by proxy or something.

Anyway, she got the same sort of impression from Hank. She’d noticed the wedding ring he wore. He must have kids around her age.

Logan at least sorta made sense. He’d been suspicious of her at first, which was fair, and he was all practical and blunt. Skye didn’t think she would’ve gone back with him if he hadn’t been. But on the other hand, he was the reason she spent most of her time asleep.

If she was asleep, she didn’t have time to think. Logan’s words kept eddying in her mind.

‘They used you.’

He was wrong. She was part of a team. She’d volunteered for it; all of it. You can’t say somebody was used when everything was their choice all along.

‘Didn’t they ever train you?’

No disrespect to Professor Xavier, but his family was old money. Of course they could afford to keep up this mansion and make sure everybody got top tier equipment and training. Not everybody was so lucky. The GLX had to make do with what was available to them. It just so happened that some mutants’ abilities were better suited to combat, and Skye’s weren’t.

‘Yeah, that’s not true.’

How on earth would she know that? Her powers manifested to do one pretty specific thing. Why would she think that the worked any other way? It wasn’t like there was some sort of handbook for this. It wasn’t like she could ask anybody.

Well, maybe if she’d been here she could’ve.

Skye wouldn’t deny that she was curious about the place. Xavier’s school was almost a place of myth, at least to her. If not for the busted ribs, maybe she’d –

No, probably not. This probably wasn’t the kind of place somebody could just wander around on their own, especially not a stranger. And it wasn’t like she could ask somebody to show her around either. Sure, the doctor had offered, but he was just being polite. They were all probably pretty busy with school stuff and X-Men stuff.

She’d have to be content with venturing into the hall at night. It was kinda nice, actually. It had that mysterious sort of feeling you got from walking through an empty school or mall or someplace. Once when she was at the window-seat, Skye saw somebody walking through the garden – the groundskeeper, probably – who waved up at her before continuing on. Other than that, she didn’t see or hear a single other person.

From what she saw of the mansion – and that was just her room and the hallway – it felt sorta cozy. The wood-paneled walls, the plush carpet, the sconce lighting – it all gave an impression of warmth. It felt old, too, which was weird, considering this place had been destroyed and rebuilt in the 80's.

Maybe she’d just read too many books, but it all made her imagination run wild a little. A place like this should have an attic full of strange old treasures, and a big beautiful library, and secret passages, and maybe even stables. But that was just silly to think about.

It wasn’t like it mattered, anyway. They’d been letting her stay while she recovered, and it’d been a week already. Another three or four days, and she’d have to be on her way.

Too bad. Aside from her curiosity, Skye was gonna miss this place for more practical reasons. It’d been so long since she’d slept in an actual bed. Cheap motels hardly counted, and mostly she’d slept in her car, and then on the ground wherever she could find a campsite.

But maybe leaving was for the best. She wouldn’t have time to think about what Logan said – and now, what Hank said, too.

Skye hadn’t been thinking when she reached down for that bag. She’d only meant to help, but apparently that was wrong. It wasn’t the pain in her ribs that almost pushed her over the edge; it was Hank telling her not to help. Right. She should’ve known better.

It was just the same in the GLX.

She was useless when she wasn’t using her powers. She didn’t have any special skills or knowledge that’d be helpful in planning, so she was mostly told she didn’t have to be involved in it. She really didn’t see anyone else much, outside of when she was helping during a mission.

Everybody was grateful for what she did. They told her so all the time – told her how much they needed her and how much they valued her presence in the team.

‘They used you.’

No, they didn’t. She did what she had to for the good of the team. She’d follow orders, do what she was asked to, and protect her teammates. She did everything they asked, even if it meant getting hurt herself. She volunteered for it.

She volunteered for it.

… Oh, God.

Skye flinched at the sudden knock at the door. She stood up, feeling only a slight echo of an ache in her ribs as she did, and went to the door.

It was the doctor again. No bag this time, though.

“Good morning,” he said, his bedside-manner smile fading as he looked at her face. “Are you alright?”

Damn it. Skye forced all of her frantic, horrified feelings into a tight ball in her chest until her poker face was back in place.

“Yeah,” she said. “Do you need something?”

“Well, if you’re feeling up for it, I was wondering if you’d take a walk with me.”

Skye blinked. “Why?”

Wrong answer. She should’ve just said no and he would’ve left her alone.

“First of all, you’ve recovered enough that a little exercise would do you some good,” said Hank. “And secondly, you haven’t seen this place in the daylight yet. I thought I might show you around. What do you say?”

It was still fairly early in the day. Everybody would be busy with class and stuff, wouldn’t they? She wouldn’t have to see or talk to anyone – just pretend to listen to the tour. She could handle that. She could.

“Alright,” said Skye.

Hank’s smile brightened again, and she followed him down the hall.

He led her through the mansion, down stairs, past rooms – all the while mentioning details about each location. Skye nodded absently along, not processing a word he said. Her thoughts were spiraling.

Years. Years.

She’d been with the GLX for years. This Logan guy picked up in minutes what she hadn’t figured out for most of her twenties. How had she never noticed? What was wrong with her?

‘They used you.’

‘I volunteered.’

Stop it. Stop it. Just stop.

“Skye?”

She looked up sharply. Hank was watching her like he expected some sort of answer. To what question, she had no idea.

“I’m… I’m sorry?” she said hesitantly.

They’d stopped walking at some point, and were now in a hallway that Skye couldn’t remember seeing before. It was on the first floor, by the looks of it. Hank’s hand rested on one of the doors.

“There’s something I wanted to talk with you about,” he said. “Would you come in here for a moment?”

“Sure.”

Hank opened the door, and Skye’s heart sank. It lead to some sort of study or office, and inside it waited Logan and Professor Xavier.

Never had Skye been so acutely aware that Professor Xavier was a telepath. She did everything she could to avoid making eye contact, like that’d help somehow. It didn’t matter. He knew. He knew. He knew.

“Please, sit down and join us,” he said.

Skye didn’t think she’d ever felt more on edge in her entire life. She knew she shouldn’t. These people had been nothing but hospitable, right? They probably just wanted to make sure she knew not to go around blabbing any secrets – like she’d ever do that – and then she’d be free to go. Maybe even leave a couple days early. She was mostly okay, after all.

She sat down on the couch the professor had gestured to, wondering if she looked as tense as she felt. Hank sat on a nearby chair, while Logan stayed standing. Too badass to sit, probably. Fair enough.

“How are you feeling, Ms. Schultz?” the professor asked.

“Fine, thank you,” said Skye.

She was lying. She was lying and he knew it. Before she could spiral further, Hank spoke up.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to leave soon, then,” he said. “Is there anywhere in particular you’re planning to go?”

There it was. Well, at least the professor would know she wasn’t lying about what she said next.

“Nowhere in particular,” she said. “Just south before it starts getting colder. You don’t have to worry about me, though. I won’t tell anybody that I was here.”

Hank looked perplexed for a second, sharing a glance with Logan.

“That’s not- I mean, we appreciate that, of course,” said Hank, “But that’s not why I was asking. If you aren’t headed anywhere, I was – that is, we all were – wondering if maybe you’d like to stay here instead.”

And then it was Skye’s turn to look perplexed.

“Why?” she asked, flatly.

The word was out of her mouth before she realized how rude she sounded. Really, though, it was an honest question. Why on earth would they want her of all people to stick around? Hank didn’t seem offended.

“This place has been a home to many people who’ve needed it,” he said.

Like she did. Is that what he meant to say? Skye felt her face flush.

“It’s our understanding that you were not well-treated during your time at the GLA,” said the professor.

Logan scoffed. “Understatement of the century.”

‘They used you.’

The professor shot him a look, and Logan shrugged and fell silent again. Skye’s jaw tightened.

“They called me Proxy. That was my codename – did you know that?” Defiantly, she looked Professor Xavier in the eyes. “I’m sure you did.”

The barb fell flat, of course. She didn’t even get the satisfaction of shocking him, because he knew exactly what she was going to say. It just made her angrier.

Logan stepped closer, holding up a hand. “Just take it easy, kid.”

“And why should I?” Skye snapped.

Suddenly, she was on her feet again, glowering up at Logan. He was bigger than her. Stronger, too. She didn’t care.

Logan, at least, seemed a little taken aback, but he didn’t back down either.

“Simmer down, alright?” he said. “We just want to help.”

“And what makes you think I need your help?” Skye fired back. “Just because it took you ten minutes to figure out something that I didn’t pick up on for almost ten years? Because I wasted all that time – years of my life – on people I thought were my friends?”

“Skye-” Hank tried to interject, but Skye didn’t let him.

“I mean, how stupid would someone have to be to fall for something like that?” She was speaking far too loudly. She knew it. She couldn’t stop. “And if somebody was that stupid, they’d deserve what happened to them, right? They’d deserve it because they should’ve known better. So I deserve what happened. That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

Skye’s heart was hammering in her chest. She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears as she glared at the others. Why did she say all that? Why couldn’t she just stop talking?

There wasn’t any way back from this. There wasn’t any positive direction this conversation could take from here. There was no way out. There was-

“Skye.”

The professor’s voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts. Her focus fixed on him – his outstretched hand, his gentle tone.

“The only person who’s said any such thing is you,” he said, moving closer. “No one here believes that. And I don’t think you truly believe it either, do you?”

Did she? Shakily, Skye sat back down, her gaze drifting towards the floor.

“I… I don’t,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t-”

Skye’s throat tightened, choking anything else she might’ve said. She curled in on herself, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed. She felt the professor’s hand caress the back of her head, stroking her hair like he was comforting a child.

It was worse. It felt so much worse now. Had it always been this bad? Had she just never noticed it before someone pointed it out to her?

It was worse, and she wanted to run and she wanted everything to stop. She wanted them to care and she didn’t. She wanted something – anything – to make sense.

She felt so stupid. Shouting at them, throwing a fit, breaking down crying like a little girl – if they weren’t tired of her already, they would be after this.

You know that isn’t true either, she heard the professor’s voice in her mind.

Slowly, the tears subsided. Skye felt someone sit down on the couch beside her, and she looked over to see Hank offering a box of tissues. She mumbled a thank-you as she took a few, wiping at her eyes and blowing her nose.

She glanced up to see Logan still standing close by and looking, well, worried more than anything.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Logan shook his head, smiling faintly. “Don’t sweat it. I know it’s not me you’re mad at. At least, not mostly.”

She’d misread him that first night, when he and the professor came to talk to her. She thought his reaction was one of disdain, but she was starting to suspect that he was just worried then, too. Only he’d handled it about as well as Skye had handled herself just now.

Was she mad at the GLX? Yes. And no. She was still mad at herself, even though she knew she shouldn’t be. It was hard to know what to feel. She wasn’t really surprised to hear the professor weigh in.

“It’s alright to feel conflicted about all of this, or overwhelmed by it,” he said. “One could hardly be expected to process it all at once.”

“I still don’t understand,” said Skye. “Why do you want me to stay?”

The professor smiled, tilting his had slightly. “Why not?”

Oh, he was a teacher, alright.

“I don’t know how to do anything. I’m not smart. I can’t fight. I have a B.A. in English, I mean…” She shrugged self-consciously. “I really don’t have anything to contribute.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s true at all,” said Hank.

Skye grimaced, nodding in Logan’s direction. “He said it. I let myself get used as a human shield for years, and that’s all.”

“And you know what that tells me?” Hank leveled an earnest gaze at her. “It tells me that you care. You wouldn’t have gone through all of that if you didn’t. And that’s why I’m asking you to stay, because we care about you, too.”

“We’re not gonna ask you to fight our battles for us, kid,” said Logan. “Just stick around here for a while. It’s better than trying to run from the past. Believe me, I know.”

Part of Skye wanted to ask him for his story. But not right then. Maybe it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, anyway.

“You’re saying I can just… stay,” Skye said slowly. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” said the professor.

“I don’t want to be a freeloader-” Skye protested.

“Then you may earn your keep, if that’s what you’d like,” said the professor, smiling. “There are always places that could use an extra set of hands. The library, perhaps?”

Skye would be lying if she said she didn’t like the idea. A library would be a calm, quiet place to work. She’d spent so much time hanging out in various libraries when she was a kid, and through high school, to the point that they felt more like home than her house did. The professor, of course he must know that. But -

“Well… I mean, I don’t know anything about being a librarian,” she said.

“For now, all you’d need to do is keep things in order. Return books to the shelves, maintain the records of who’s borrowed which items – that sort of thing. The rest can be learned.”

That sort of grunt work would be manageable. Better yet, nobody would expect her to use her abilities there.

“If you’re sure…” she said, eyeing the professor hesitantly, half-certain that he was going to change his mind.

Professor Xavier extended a hand to her. “Welcome aboard, Skye.”

Skye. Not ‘Ms. Schultz.’

It was silly, but hearing the Professor Charles Xavier address her by name made her feel like she belonged, a little.

… And remembering that he could hear everything she was thinking made her wish the floor would just open up and swallow her already.

At least the professor was polite enough not to say anything. He just chuckled a little as he released her hand.

“We’ll see to all the paperwork for getting you on the payroll later,” he said. “And I’m sure Hank would be happy to show you the library itself.”

Hank nodded. “Of course. I could show you right now, if you’d like. Why don’t we take the scenic route? You look like you could use some fresh air.”

He wasn’t wrong. Skye felt the particular kind of exhausted you only feel after having a full breakdown. Some sunlight would feel fantastic, and after that she’d like nothing more than to collapse in a heap and sleep for another five or so hours.

As she followed Hank out, Skye paused, turning back to the professor and Logan.

“Sir?” she said. Her gaze shifted between the two men; she was sorta addressing both of them. “Thank you.”

Logan nodded, and the professor smiled.

“You are most welcome, my dear,” he said.

Hank kept up a considerate silence as Skye followed him back down the hall and through an exterior door, into the gardens. She’d only seen them from the window at night.

In person, they were old fashioned – laid out in winding paths meant for strolling, lined with green hedgerows and a cheerful, colorful array of flowers. There seemed to be alcoves along the way, containing things like little fountains, and maybe a goldfish pond? It was surreal, like something out a story. Skye half expected to wake up at any second.

Hank walked slowly, letting her look around. Nice of him. He was tall enough that Skye would’ve had to move fast to keep up with him at a full stride. It’d sounded like – while all three of them were on board with it – Hank was the one pushing for her to stay at the school.

“Hey, uh… Hank?” Skye said hesitantly. “Thanks for, y’know, for sticking your neck out for me like that.”

“Well, you did say that you’d stay here until you were fully recovered,” said Hank, “And, speaking as a doctor? I’d say you aren’t quite there yet.”

“And when I am? What then?”

Even Skye was a little surprised at how cold and bitter her voice sounded just then. But it was an honest question. If she was able to work through all of… all of this, what would happen to her? Would they just let her stay working in the library? Would they send her away?

Hank paused, turning to look at her with a curious expression.

“May I make a blunt observation?” he asked.

Huh. And here she thought that being blunt was Logan’s job.

“Uh, sure,” said Skye.

“You seem to believe that nobody could care about you unless you did something to earn it, and – simultaneously – that no one will care about you if you aren’t in need,” he said, “Which is a lot of cognitive dissonance to walk around with. You don’t have to earn this, Skye, and no one is going to abandon you when you start to improve. You deserve to be cared about for your own sake, unconditionally.”

Skye frowned. On some level, she knew that had to be true. It was true for everybody else, of course. She wouldn’t dream of telling somebody else they needed to earn the right to kindness or respect. But not for me, though, was the certainty in the back of her mind. That doesn’t apply to me.

Seeming to understand her hesitation, Hank smiled.

“It’s alright if you can’t believe that just yet,” he said. “For now, the rest of us will believe it for you. And if you ever need a reminder, I’ll be happy to tell you that we do care about you, Skye, and you do deserve it.”

It still hurt, though. His kindness hurt. Skye wished it didn’t. Maybe if she stuck around there long enough, that feeling would go away. For now, though, she was just… tired.

“Y’know, the library’s not going anywhere,” Hank said. “If you’d rather stay out here for a while, that’s fine.”

In a weird way, Skye felt like she’d just get stuck again if she went back inside at that moment.

“I could stand to photosynthesize for a bit,” she said, which Hank seemed to find funny.

“I’ve been spending too much time indoors, myself,” he said. “And my only plans for the morning are going over some notes. Would you mind some company?”

Believe that he cared. Believe that he meant it. It was funny – and kinda sad – how fast a person could forget how to act around people. But after all that time alone? Skye could use a friend. And since Hank was offering…

“I wouldn’t mind,” Skye said, finding it hard to make eye contact as she did. “If you don’t mind that I probably won’t talk much.”

“Not a problem,” Hank said gently. “Find a good spot to sit, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

Skye stood still for a moment after Hank had gone back inside. It was quiet out on the grounds. The September sun was warm that morning, and some of the trees dotted around the property were just starting to tinge scarlet. Birds sang here and there. On the road outside the gate, she could hear a single car going by.

This couldn’t possibly be real. It was too sudden, too incredible to really be happening – and to her, of all people. Skye wanted to tell someone. She wished there was someone she could talk to, so she could sort out everything that’d happened over the past week. She could call someone, tell them she was here. Her family? … No, not them. Michael, maybe, but she wasn’t sure she had his right phone number anymore.

A trace of loneliness stole back in. Of course. She couldn’t expect everything to get better all at once, right? That’s not how things worked. Didn’t stop her from wishing it was.

She had a feeling Hank would listen, if she asked. She would – when he came back.

Skye settled herself into a nearby lounge chair to wait. The sun felt wonderful, and she was so tired. Not the sort of tired that came from feeling like she needed to escape, but from feeling like she didn’t need to anymore. Skye yawned. She could fall asleep right there if she let herself.

Hank made a detour to stop by Skye’s room on his way back outside, to pick up one of the books she’d been reading, just in case. Judging by the placement of the bookmark (an old movie ticket stub) Skye was almost finished with The Return of the King. Out of curiosity, Hank opened the book to see what page she’d stopped on – partway through the chapter called The Steward and the King.

But when he returned to the gardens, he found Skye fast asleep.

Hank had seen many people come and go from the school – students and staff both. Many of them were hurt, or angry, or afraid when they arrived. Every single one of them had been able to heal, and to reclaim something of themselves that they thought was lost. That was Hank’s hope for Skye, too.

Setting the book down beside her, Hank quietly retreated to a nearby chair to focus on his work, and to let her rest.

#x men fanfiction #x men oc #fox x men #x men #xmen fanfiction #xmen oc #hank mccoy #charles xavier #logan howlett #xcu #iweir #skye schultz #at one point the story was gonna stop here-ish #but nope #there’s more of it #even if I’ve diminishing-returns’d myself right off the map XP

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thetriggeredhappy · 5 years ago

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Sniperscout 34 because. Well

arin im gonna make you SAPPY AGAIN NERD (warnings for mention of violence and blood)

#34: Returned from the dead kiss.

Sniper didn’t know what to expect when he opened the door to his camper, but it wasn’t Scout.

“Hey,” Scout said, looking him up and down.

Sniper’s mouth moved wordlessly for a few seconds before he found something to say. “Uh. Hey,” was all he could think of, and he winced at it.

Scout’s eyes fell off to one side of him, hands in his pockets. Sniper knew that something had happened to Scout during the months after the team disbanded, something that made him hesitant all of a sudden, fidgety, but he didn’t think he had any right to pry. “Remember when you said you’d take me on a road trip when the war was over?” he asked, tone flatter than Sniper remembered it being, but maybe that’s what he deserved, because…

“Yeah,” Sniper admitted, voice quiet. He had said that. But he’d said it because he thought he’d have time, thought he’d have a few months or years to try and get the courage to tell Scout a couple things, thought that when they went on a road trip it’d be something they’d do together not as the unlikely and close-knit friends they’d somehow stumbled into being, but as… “Yeah, I do.”

Scout looked up at him, only for a couple of seconds. There were dark circles under his eyes, a hallowness to him that felt uncomfortably like looking in a mirror. “Well, guess you have another chance,” he said, setting up like he was certain he’d be knocked right back down.

And Sniper hadn’t exactly thought of it that way. The team had banded back together again for the Grey Mann business (excluding Engie, who was apparently doing okay but simply couldn’t make it back for some reason he couldn’t say), returning to the base and everything once the Classic Team was sufficiently dead, only for Miss Pauling to suddenly break the news, that very morning, three days into their arriving there, that their final job had been completed and the money had been wired to their accounts and they were all free to go. In a way, it really was a second chance, one he didn’t think he particularly deserved.

He’d been getting a lot of those lately.

“Okay,” was all he could think to say, still too surprised to think of anything clever to say.

They left the next morning before sunrise, and if Sniper was being honest, he didn’t really have a destination in mind. He just started driving northwest, thinking about pine trees and quiet and time to think. Luckily, Scout didn’t ask for a destination. He just sat down in the passenger seat and turned on the radio.

The radio sufficed to fill in the uncomfortable silence between them for three days of driving. There was no talking, really. Even after months apart, they were capable of reading each other’s signals well enough that directions weren’t necessary. They’d wake up just before sunrise to eat a quick brekkie and start driving, they’d pull over once a day at a rest stop to top off the fuel and for Scout to go inside to get them something to eat, and they’d eat it standing up and leaning on the hood to stretch their legs, and then they’d keep driving until just before it got dark, then they’d pull over somewhere for the night to eat and go to sleep. Sniper would set up a tent for them, they’d both grab their sleeping bags, rinse and repeat.

No words needed. It hurt something in Sniper’s chest to realize that Scout still remembered what food he liked from their various 2AM weekend excursions to damn near anywhere that was still open and willing to sell food to strange half-drunk men.

Sniper hadn’t thought about their lack of words at first. Not until the moment when they’d briefly gone through somewhere with particularly bad radio reception and Scout couldn’t find a station for something like twenty minutes. That was the time when he most felt their silence, the empty space between them. From then on, once he noticed it, he didn’t have the courage to break the spell, the task seeming more and more daunting with each passing day of quiet, more and more like it’d need to be something truly important to not seem hollow, fake.

It was Scout who finally broke the silence.

“Aren’t you tired?” Scout asked, voice so quiet that Sniper was almost positive that he imagined it. But he looked over at Scout out of the corner of his eye, and Scout was looking at him instead of staring out the window. He swallowed hard, and realized all at once that he hadn’t actually spoken in a couple days.

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice a little sandy.

Scout kept looking at him, and Sniper had to break eye contact to look back at the road again. “It’s just… getting pretty late. We should stop for the night,” Scout said.

Sniper realized he was right. It had gotten dark at some point. They usually stopped sometime around sunset so Sniper would have plenty of light to set up the tent, but he’d lost track of time. Zoned out. Suddenly he became aware of how bone-deep tired he was. “Just a little further,” he mumbled, voice still rough, and Scout didn’t respond to that, just looking back out the window.

When they finally pulled over, it was into a proper campground, with fire pits and grills and picnic tables and everything. He set up a little fire before anything else, happy with the fact that it wasn’t exactly prime camping season and there were places for them to go be by themselves. The tent was up next, put up as quickly as he could without risking mistakes, partially because he was sure Scout was tired.

But Scout sat and waited by the fire instead of turning in the moment he could, just watching the flames idly. His face looked even more sunken in the flickering light, and it unnerved Sniper a little to see the way that life had faded out of his eyes just over the course of the little time they’d spent apart.

For a while, quiet. Sniper decided he might as well cook what meat he had left in his camper before it went bad, now that he had the chance, and he did so, bland as it was with so minimal a kitchen available to them. Scout ate without complaint, without even really looking at Sniper.

It occurred to him, trying not to be obvious about the way he was watching Scout, that the reason he unnerved Sniper so much was because he looked half-dead in a lot of ways.

The illusion was only furthered when Scout tossed his paper plate and napkins into the fire and moved to grab his bag.

Every morning and every night, Sniper now knew that Scout had a brief routine. Usually he’d do it while Sniper was setting up or taking down the tent. He had to change his gauze daily, the wound still lingering in some ways from where he’d gotten slashed open. He was no longer on the verge of death, but a few days of on-and-off medical fluid whenever Medic managed to dig up another batch didn’t do much for him, it seemed. Even after years of hunting and killing, Sniper couldn’t force himself to look directly at the wound marring the entirety of Scout’s side, instead watching the detached set of Scout’s expression as he rewrapped it.

But Scout caught him looking, apparently, because he spoke again. “Doc says I‘ll probably never climb again,” he murmured.

It felt very much like he was shot through the chest again. “Yeah?” he asked, voice soft.

“Yeah. And I just…” He paused as he finished up with re-wrapping the wound, pulling his shirt back down into place. “I just didn’t wanna go home until it healed.”

Sniper kept his expression controlled. That could take weeks, months even. And the scarring would probably never properly go away.

“And I know you probably won’t wanna deal with me that whole time,” Scout said next, giving him a tight almost-smile, immediately averting his eyes again. “But… I dunno. However long you’ll let me stick around.”

Sniper didn’t know how long he planned to “stick around”. There was the house, he supposed, probably still falling into ruin, but not much else to go back to.

“I heard about your parents,” Scout finally said, as if he read his mind. “I’m sorry.”

Sniper still didn’t know how to reply to that when people said it to him. He went with a simple “It’s okay.”

“Nah,” Scout replied easily, back to staring into the fire. “But… I dunno. Would you mind giving me a warning in advance for when you want me to leave you alone? I just wanna call my Ma to tell her when I’m going back.”

“Alright,” Sniper said hesitantly.

They started speaking again, mostly in little ways. A day’s rest at the campground before they hit the road again did wonders for morale, and communications being opened between them made things feel… easier, in little ways. In Sniper mentioning “Give me five minutes” when they went to a rest stop before he walked away to use the bathroom or something, in Scout going “hey, turn it back” when Sniper changed the radio station. For some reason, it made Sniper choke up a bit when one day, Scout so quietly murmured a “good night” out into the darkness of the tent.

They reached the upper parts of Washington, and hooked a right. They made it through Montana and into North Dakota before Scout asked the all-important question.

“Where are we going?”

It was asked over another campfire, at yet another campground, half-abandoned. Sniper stoked the flames for a few seconds before he decided on his answer.

“Anywhere you’d like,” he finally murmured.

Quiet. “I’ll get back to you on that,” he seemed to decide. They kept driving.

By the Great Lakes, they still didn’t have a destination, so Sniper broke out a map for the first time and figured out how to try to get them to Florida, for no reason other than the fact that it was far away, and bought him time, something he’d already run out of twice before—once when the team disbanded, and once when he died.

But they were talking more. They found themselves trying to catch up with each other without quite saying that they were catching up. They were back to discussing things, news mostly, although apparently Scout had gotten the time to do some reading during the months before the team got back together.

It was one night when Sniper was changing for bed and Scout ducked in to ask him a question that a topic was finally broached, a landline finally stepped on.

“What the hell is that?” Scout asked, sounding startled, and when Sniper looked up, Scout was staring at his chest. At his stitches.

He pulled on a shirt before anything else, suddenly self-conscious about the way the very tail-end of the stitching peeked out of the short sleeves under his arms. “It’s from when I got shot, and I…”

Died. The word hung in the air between them, paralyzing, horrifying. All at once, real.

“Did I tell you they tried to hang me?” Scout suddenly said.

Sniper blinked. “What?”

“After the trial. We lost the trial. They tried to hang me.”

“I thought Pauling saved you,” Sniper said hesitantly.

“Yeah.” Scout’s jaw was tight. “After they already pulled the lever. When you hang people usually it’s supposed to snap your neck. It didn’t. She got me down about a minute after they pulled the lever. Then I almost died on the way to get Heavy because I got clawed by a bear. Then Saxton Hale and his buff girlfriend almost killed me. Then I got stabbed fighting the Classics.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Sniper asked, voice tight.

“Because I need you to know that I get it.”

Sniper didn’t have words, all of a sudden, and Scout hesitated for a second longer before finally just ducking back out of the tent, looking a little disappointed. “No, wait,” he said, following Scout out quickly, into the light of the campfire, where he looked far too much like a corpse, far too much like delirium in a hallway, almost dying alone. “Wait.”

Scout just stared, waiting. Waiting for Sniper to be the one to speak first for once.

“When I got shot,” Sniper said, and his voice was already choked, damn him. “Even before that, I just, alone in that house, I…” He swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in his throat. “I thought about it a lot. Regretted it a lot. How I never got to say goodbye.”

Scout’s expression softened a touch, and he looked a little closer to the way he’d been before, a little more life back behind his eyes, and it gave Sniper the courage to keep talking.

“I wish I did,” he managed. “You deserved a real goodbye. You deserved something, anything. I should’ve said something.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I didn’t want to say goodbye to you. And I knew if I ended up on a road trip with you, I’d… I’d never want to let go of you.” He wished desperately that he had his glasses on to hide his eyes, to hide how damp they were starting to get. “You were the first good thing to ever happen to me and I was scared you’d be the last and I just… I didn’t know what to do. But you deserved better. You always deserved better.”

There was suspicion in Scout’s expression now—not like finding out bad news, like realizing someone was trying to surprise you with something, like good news, like hope. Scout swallowed hard, looking down at the fire for a second, thinking over his words. “I know where I wanna go,” he said.

“Where?” Sniper asked, weak, damn everything he was weak.

“Take me home to Australia with you.”

Hope like nothing else he’d ever had before. He wanted to ask, “Forever?”, but all he managed was “Really?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed again, not meeting Sniper’s eyes. “We died and came back to life, man. I think that means we get to do whatever we want now.”

“Whatever we want?” Sniper repeated.

When Scout looked back up at him, he seemed more curious than anything else. He looked down between them, took a half-step closer, close enough that the toes of their shoes were lined up and touching each other. Then his gaze rose again. “Whatever we want,” he confirmed.

Out of all the things that came to mind when Scout said that, there was only one thing that he really cared about doing in any meaningful way, and he was lucky, so much luckier than he ever thought he’d be, because he didn’t even really need to move to do it. He leaned down to kiss Scout, and Scout met him halfway.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #sniperscout #speeding bullet #shut up me #everybody talks #the fiendship tag #THERE YOU GO NERD #THEN THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER #my fanfiction

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jurassic-tales · 4 years ago

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JURASSIC TRANSFORMERS (Jurassic Park) Name: ‘WHIRLWIND’ Affiliation: Autobot Alt. Mode: Agusta A-109A - InGen Helicopter N293G During the run-up to Jurassic Park’s planned opening, InGen were tight on resources and were unable to procure the vehicles needed to give the assessment team a full tour. The Autobots offered two keen volunteers to assist with operations...One of whom was an aerial-bot called ‘Whirlwind’. Whirlwind generally had an easy-going, laid back attitude, often going with the flow where ever the winds of change took him. So much so, that he nearly let the opportunity to work with an island full of dinosaurs slip by him...Only on a second look did he see that InGen needed a helicopter to take teams to and from the island. Having casually browsed through humankind’s history of aviation, he was fascinated by how helicopters operated and was keen to try it out himself...’why not’, he thought to himself. Whilst Expo arrived at Isla Nublar a day before the assessment team were due, Whirlwind was needed sooner; he took several days to transport key members of staff to and from the island, Costa Rica and the classified island known only to him as ‘Site B’, the latter of which he was asked to keep quiet about...But that didn’t phase him; he went with the flow and was happy with only what he needed to hear. Amongst his VIP passengers were Dr. Henry Wu, Dennis Nedry, Ray Arnold and the Lockwoods, a father and daughter duo who knew Hammond well, but were not heard from again after their one visit...Another temporary case of curiosity for Whirlwind but as with Site B; if he needed to know, they’d inform him. But it was a trip to the United States that gave him his most important role yet; transporting the assessment team, along with John Hammond himself. During the journey to the island, Whirlwind was amused with the conversations aboard, especially between Hammond and the eclectic Dr. Malcolm. But as Isla Nublar came into view, Whirlwind was guided by the pre-planned route that Hammond designed, rather than the quickest and most efficient, so the visitors could have the best views possible for most dramatic effects...Hammond was ever the showman before they even landed. After dropping the team off at the helipad, Whirlwind immediately set off to pick up his next couple of passengers from the airport in Costa Rica; Hammond’s grandchildren, Lex and Tim Murphy. Their journey to the island wasn’t overseen by Hammond, so this time he took the less extravagant, more direct route...A decision he was glad he made; the kids were too excitable for him and the snacks they had for the trip made a bit of a mess in his interior...! Whirlwind remained on the Isla Nublar helipad. After the support crew helped to clean out the interior, the Autobot didn’t have much planned until it would be time for the assessment team to leave. He was able to kick back and share stories with his human colleagues, who in turn let him know how Wrangle, who had been on the islands for several years at this point, was a valued member of the team. They also encouraged Whirlwind to scan through radio stations so he could check out some (human) music...He was especially taken with psychedelic and prog rock... The chill would come to an abrupt end when they learned that Hurricane Clarissa was fast approaching the island...Air travel was going to be far too risky and the majority of staff were going to be evacuated by boat. The order came through for everyone to get to the dock as soon as they could...Whirlwind encouraged his crew to go on ahead, as he would be able to take the beating and catch up with them later. That very night, the worst of the hurricane had passed, but the rains were still strong; Whirlwind was selecting appropriate music to play, such as ‘Riders on the Storm’, when he saw that the lights surrounding the helipad had gone. He transformed and scanned the area; no power...Not even from the nearby perimeter gate. Something was wrong. He tried to reach someone through his radio; dead...He wanted to stay in case anybody would need to reach the helipad, but he also wanted to take off to find out what was wrong, despite the poor weather... ‘This is why I prefer to go with the flow’ he thought, flustered by his dilemma. Whirlwind ended up making a decision; he took off. The heavy rain was starting to ease, but it wasn’t ideal flying conditions...All across the island, his scanner picked up lifeforms in various places, hardly any of them human. ‘This is bad’ he thought, comparing his scans with the layout of the facilities... ‘all the dinos are going where they ain’t supposed to be’. He also checked on the Energon signatures of his Autobot comrades, Wrangle and Expo...Until one started to flicker...It was Expo at the Tyrannosaur paddock. Whirlwind picked up speed and fought the storm to try and get there as fast as he could, but lightning struck him; he span out of control towards the ground below... The following morning, Whirlwind had washed up the bank of the lake in the Brachiosaur enclosure...He was jolted awake by a Parasaurolophus blaring its morning call, like a rooster with a trumpet. Whirlwind crawled up onto the grass and inadvertently scared the Parasaur herd away. He checked his scanner; only one Energon signature...He transformed and took off towards where he last saw Expo... Whirlwind hovered above the remains of the Tyrannosaur paddock; the fence was destroyed, a restroom was obliterated and the only vehicle visible, Tour Vehicle 05, had been abandoned. He scanned over the fence and detected traces of Energon...He swooped down the drop and on the ground, Expo’s body lay in a mess, savaged by the Tyrannosaur. He saw human footprints leading away from the car...In his sorrow for his comrade, he was glad to know that Expo protected humans until the very end. Whirlwind payed his respects; ‘Til all are one’ he mournfully recited, before he took off to seek out the other Energon signal. At the garage near the Visitors’ Centre, Whirlwind arrived to find Jeep 12; Wrangle. He was happy to see Wrangle alive, but had to tell him that Expo had gone...This didn’t help Wrangle’s mood, who was still upset at being somewhat responsible for a human death...Whirlwind tried to convince him to help out the other people that are still in danger. After a moment, Wrangle agreed to track down the Velociraptors, as it was the smaller carnivores he knew could be the most dangerous for humans. Whirlwind tracked the T. Rex and found her finishing off a Gallimimus. Three human signals were being picked up but he couldn’t tell exactly where they were as they were already deep in the nearby jungle...As such he made sure that the Rex didn’t follow them by being a distraction, as a vulture is to a lion. But eventually Whirlwind heard a power surge over the radio; electricity had been restored to the park. He tried contacting people again; on channel two he picked up a woman’s voice; it was Dr. Ellie Sattler...She sounded distraught and out of breath. Whirlwind wasn’t sure if she knew about the Cybertronians, so he just said that it was ‘the chopper team’...Ellie told them to have the chopper ready to go. And then her radio signal dropped...Whirlwind told Wrangle to get to her position ASAP. Thankfully Wrangle was nearby; he found Ellie’s radio, which looked like it had been ditched...And then he found Robert Muldoon’s savaged corpse. Wrangle took a moment to rip off his soft Jeep-roof (therefore his ‘cape’) to cover his fallen human comrade. And then, finding Velociraptor tracks, radio’d Whirlwind to tell him that the Velociraptors are tracking the humans to the Visitors’ Centre. Whirlwind still had eyes on the Tyrannosaur and then had an idea...He told Wrangle that they need to lure the Rex to the Centre...Wrangle fired a flare into the air. Success; the Rex saw the bright red light in the distance and started heading towards it with an almighty roar. Whirlwind told Wrangle that it’s working and to make sure she’s heading in the right direction. He also told Wrangle that according to the radio chatter, there are two survivors (Hammond and Malcolm) in an underground bunker that need a pick-up and one of them’s incapacitated with an injury. Meanwhile, Whirlwind himself would take off and fly as fast as he could to the helipad. He found that his ground crew decided to remain on the island after all, which was handy, as the survivors would need all the human help they could get. Sure enough, he saw Wrangle speeding towards the helipad with all the surviving humans available; the ground crew helped Malcolm board the helicopter with his broken leg. Hammond took one last look at his dream before Wrangle transformed to tell them he’ll look after what’s left of the place. Whirlwind took flight with the six survivors on board...The humans had been through a lot and, despite some of them being absolutely filthy from their time in the jungle, Whirlwind didn’t mind...Especially since the kids were fast asleep.

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iamartemisday · 5 years ago

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Lokane Untold Truths

Jane was six the first time it happened. It was mid-December. She’d exhausted every option available to her to complete her mission. In desperation, she threw all caution to the wind and came out with it. “Daddy, what am I getting for Christmas?”

He looked into her eyes and said, “a junior telescope set and that scientist Barbie doll you wanted. Also a young reader’s copy of Pride and Prejudice. I think your mother wants to corrupt you early.”

When he finished speaking he looked shocked for all of a second. He didn’t have long because he’d, unfortunately, spilled the beans within earshot of his wife, who spent the next few minutes berating him while Jane danced in place at the thought of a telescope.

Over time, more incidents like that began to occur.

“Mrs. Mason,” she asked her third grade teacher the day she announced they’d have a sub for the rest of the week, “how come you’re going on vacation now instead of on the weekend?”

“Oh I’m not actually going on vacation,” Mrs. Mason said. “I’m getting a colonoscopy and I need to spend the next few days cleaning out my bowels.”

Everyone laughed as their poor teacher turned bright red and tried to backtrack.

For a while, Jane actually thought it was pretty funny.

“Hey Bobby, how come you won’t go down the slide?” she asked the playground bully.

“Because I’m afraid of heights,” he said. “They make me cry.”

No one took his bullying seriously after that.

One day, it stopped being funny.

“Why don’t you want to eat lunch with me?” she asked Maggie, her best friend in the world since kindergarten.

“Because I don’t like you anymore,” Maggie said. “You’re a weird geek and I want to hang out with the cool kids now.”

Jane didn’t really sit with anyone after that.

By the time she reached high school, she knew something was wrong with her. Or maybe something was right. There were perks to her strange little ability just as much as their were downsides. She’d long since figured out a few things.

Her power only worked when she made eye contact with the target.

Glasses of any sort would not protect them.

Wearing glasses herself would.

Jane couldn’t understand that last one. Perhaps it was a mental block she’d placed on herself to protect her relationships after what happened with Maggie. Or maybe it was just always there.

In her sophomore year, she got up the courage to as the boy she liked on a date (simple yes or no question, it couldn’t possibly go wrong).

“I’d like to, but I can’t,” he said. “My dad beats my mom and I’m afraid to date because I don’t want to be like him.”

The next day, Jane bought six pairs of contact lenses.

For years, she wore them religiously. Nobody ever questioned her. Not in college, not in grad school, not in the desert. Darcy called them lens buddies and Jane didn’t have the heart to correct her.

It got easier to forget about all the chaos her power had caused. She’d remind herself that it could’ve been a lot worse and all things considered, she’d made it to adulthood relatively unscathed. Every now and then she’d forget to put in her contacts and get to hear all about a neighbor’s marital problems or how the overly macho guy at the bar was deeply in love with his male best friend. Otherwise, her days were uneventful and she could almost pretend she was completely normal.

Thor came to her in a storm and they had their adventure.

He came back to her in another storm when an ancient power was (not so) inexplicably drawn to her. That was a bit rough of a reunion. Jane was not exactly happy about his two years of radio silence. Even worse, whatever was inside her had decided it didn’t like contact lenses. They burned like pure fire when she tried to put them back in.

“It’s good to see you,” Jane said, instead of asking where he’d been or any other question she both did and didn’t want the answer to.

He was nice enough to explain, and it was a good explanation. Taking her to Asgard and giving her the grand tour also helped his case.

Jane still couldn’t find the same affection for him that she’d once had, if she had it at all. Their three days in the desert had been a whirlwind of confusing emotions as her entire life was upturned in an instant. Now that they had time to stop and think, Jane wasn’t seeing much more in him than a good friend.

And then came Loki.

Or course Jane knew him, if only in name and face. She got to know him about more closely when she punched him in the face for attaching New York.

“I like her,” he said, smiling evilly at her.

Jane stared at him with her uncovered eyes and got a terrible, but all too tempting idea. “Do you get off on being hit?”

“Not precisely,” he said, “but I do love a woman with fire.”

Jane didn’t know what was funnier, his face or Thor’s. She glanced at Sif and shrugged like she had no idea what was happening and then casually reminded the brothers that they should probably get moving.

The ride out of Asgard was bumpy, and Jane only remembered parts of it. She woke up as they reached Svartalfheim. The Aether called to her, swirling through her with renewed ferocity at the prospect of going ‘home’.

“Finally awake I see,” Loki said, grinning evilly. “That didn’t take long at all.”

“What scared you most as a child?” Jane asked.

“Freya’s cats,” Loki said. “One of them bite me once and I’ve never liked them since.”

Even given the circumstances, Thor couldn’t not laugh. “I knew it.”

If Loki smacked the elves around a little harder than necessary, Jane wouldn’t comment. He was actually kind of gentle with her, even as he shoved her out of the way of a vortex sucking them up.

When he died, Jane actually felt bad for making him expose his secrets like that. Even for someone like him, using her powers like that was just petty. Now that the Aether was gone, those contacts were going right back in. She didn’t even take them out a month later when she and Thor agreed to go their separate ways. It was all for the best anyway.

Late one night, when she been planning another all nighter to finish updated her bridge schematic, she was suddenly overcome with sleep. She awoke in a misty place. Nothing was around for miles, but she wasn’t scared. Nothing could hurt you in a dream, she knew, no matter what the old wive’s tales said.

Even when Loki appeared before her, she didn’t react. Dream or no dream, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of scaring her.

“Ask me anything,” he said.

Jane blinked her naked eyes. “Is this real?”

“Yes.”

“Are you alive?”

“Yes.”

“How can that be when I saw you die?”

“You saw me lose consciousness, though in fairness, I thought I was dying as well. It seems luck was for once on my side.”

A vision of Asgard appeared. Odin alone on his throne with Gugnir. He smiled warmly at his subjects, though for a moment, his eyes turned green.

“Are you pretending to be Odin?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“What did you do with him?”

“He’s in a retirement home on Midgard. Don’t worry, I chose a nice one.”

“Do you visit him?”

“Once a week.”

“Nice. The orderlies must love you.”

“That wasn’t a question, but yes, they do. I’m a loving, dedicated son in their eyes.”

Jane was fast getting sick of this dream. And she really hated her sneaking suspicion this wasn’t a dream at all and Loki really was alive right now.

“So what now? What do you want from me?”

He stepped closer. “You have an amazing gift, Jane. One which not even I can resist.”

“Thank you,” Jane said. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He laughed. “I don’t believe I have you under a spell, my dear.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t.” He smiled. “You are free to speak as you wish, though I am bound to your every whim.”

“What if I asked you to tell me your greatest secret?”

“You know I would tell you. I would have no choice.”

“Would you want to?”

“I would,” he stepped closer. He was so tall and actually extremely handsome. Weird how she was only just starting to notice. “I would happily tell you anything. You and only you.”

Jane swallowed. Even knowing what she could do, he looked so sincere. “Do… do you regret what you did?”

For the first time, he hesitated and all but whispered his response. “I’m starting to.”

“Do you want to make it right?”

“I don’t think I can.”

“But would you try?”

Another, longer hesitation. A quieter response. “Yes.”

Jane nodded. She took his hand and held it tight. “Then when you’re ready to visit Odin again, come find me.”

The dream ended there and Jane was awake in her lab. She stared at the clock and her heart missed a beat. Not even a minute had passed since she closed her eyes. Almost like that whole event occurred on another plane of existence.

‘It did,’ she told herself. ‘In a dream world.’

But did it really?

She heard footsteps behind her, but wasn’t afraid. He was there when she turned around. Not as Odin, but as himself. He had trimmed his hair a bit and donned a suit. Though he held her gaze, there was a hint of trepidation behind his eyes.

Jane stood and approached him. This time, she had only one question. “Why?”

He took her hands “Don’t you see, Jane? I am the God of Lies. You are the Goddess of Truth.” He leaned in close. Jane couldn’t stop him if she wanted to as their lips met. “We were made for each other.”

And that was the God’s honest truth.

#Lokane #Loki #Jane Foster #fic I won't write #except I guess I kind of did write it?#like fifty percent at least...

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foxtophat · 5 years ago

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another long one, coming in at 9k words because i am goddamn trash

HEY GUYS SORRY ABOUT THAT UGH today just didn’t go the way i wanted it to. you ever feel like that? well anyway here is the 11th chapter!!! fun fact: hurk and sharky show up! second fun fact: i am 90% sure that it is not moonshine they’re peddling. 3rd fun fact: i don’t know if they know what an apple looks like any more

i don’t have much to say about this chapter, although i will say it involves casual drinking if you’re not into that. i think i’m gonna go have a newcastle myself once i’m done writing this up... which i guess means now!

as usual my dudes, i want to thank you all for being so tolerant of my bullshit and so open to my dumbassery! it’s so nice to feel MOTIVATED to post for once, which might not come through when i get delayed like i have the last 2 chapters, but it’s true! i have so much trouble working on things without feedback, so you guys really have been awesome.

if you wanna contact me, my askbox is always open! as always, i appreciate any and all comments, kudos, likes, reblogs, casual links, private discord messages, idk whatever i don’t even use discord

below the cut is the full chapter for those of you who don’t wanna go off-site! thank you again for reading guys, and i will talk incessantly about this fic soon!!!

The next three days are marked by a surprising peace. Nick had suspected that once the cat got out about John, they would be fielding a flurry of calls, or maybe even some in-person confrontations, but so far they've been left completely alone. Maybe telling people on their way out of the county has something to do with that. Maybe they'll need to wait for Hurk and Sharky to come back and spread the news if Jerome's decided not to do it himself. Nick's not sure if that's even what he wants , but it feels like the inevitable next step. Eventually, if the community is going to come together, the cat's gonna have to get out of the bag.

John is just as nervous than before, although it only shows whenever they hear distant engines or a far-off gunshot. The night after the caravan, he and Jerome spend a full thirty minutes on the radio, but it only makes him more pensive and reserved. Nick wouldn't mind so much if Carmina weren't also acting bummed out — sure, she's just upset that she lost a friend before she could make one, but it still sucks to see his daughter acting as morose as John.

At least Kim's optimism hasn't been phased. She's been determined to look at the situation from every positive angle available, and none of Nick's uncertainty has put a hamper on it. She rallies them all for a second day-trip down to the river, hell-bent on cheering each and every one of them. It's a day of sunlight and clear water, and the fish are jumping like mad. It must be spawning season, or something, because the suckers are easy pickings.

The nice weather and the easy fishing both do wonders for Carmina's mood, which is becoming more and more fickle every day. Nick dozes in and out with a rod in hand, and although John spends most of the time staring at the water, he touches base with reality once in a while. Mostly just when Kim includes him in conversation, but it's still enough.

It's... nice. Nick doesn't know the last time he felt so relaxed. He doesn't think that memory exists anymore, lost to time like so many other positive thoughts, but he's enjoying the reminder to relax his shoulders and turn off his anxious brain for a few minutes. With the sunshine just as warm as ever and the water a bright, nearly unnatural blue, Nick figures all they need is an umbrella and some beach towels to drive the point home. Hell, at this point, they might as well claim this as their private waterfront.

Grace shows up after breakfast the next day, ready to take Carmina for some target practice at her range. She isn't strictly speaking to Nick yet, but she keeps it cordial, even friendly with Kim. Maybe Jerome talked with her, or maybe she came to accept the situation on her own, who knows. Either way, Grace ignores the sight of John out on the back porch and treats Carmina to a genuine smile when she comes downstairs, rifle in hand. Finally, three-quarters of the year later, the situation with Grace has finally returned to normal, taking one more weight off of Nick's shoulders.

She promises to have Carmina back before sundown. She also promises to leave her radio on, just in case. Nick knows what she means by just in case , but he can't say no to the added security.

Nick retreats out back, letting Kim have some time with Grace without the awkward tension of his presence. John pointedly refuses to look at him, sorting through a box of components as though he hasn't already picked it apart.

It isn't until after Grace and Carmina leave that Nick remembers he has an out — well, now it's just a regular chore. He's got to deal with the so-called freezer in the hangar, which is full of fish and sucking up all the fuel for the generator. Either he has to make it viable to use long term, or they're going to be shit out of luck for food preservation beyond salting and pickling.

From the look on his face, John wishes Nick would ask for his help, but Kim has already called on him to help harvest the last of the spring planter, so he's shit out of luck there. Nick doesn't have any damn sympathy for John — gardening is boring, and Nick will do anything to avoid it, especially something as easy as throwing John under a bus.

So, the good news is that the freezer still turns on. Nick hadn't expected much after finding it under part of the collapsed roof, but it hasn't shorted out once since they hooked it up to the generator about a week ago.

The bad news is that it's not a good use of power at all. The rubber seal is nearly worn off, so it keeps losing coolness, and there's definitely a coil burnt out or something in there because it barely manages to keep its temperature lower than the air around it. Sure, maybe it'll come in handy around winter , but that's not going to help them with summer around the corner.

As it is, Nick's only sure that the fish from yesterday are still good. There's a covered pot of stew underneath that they put in after the caravan left, which is probably fine, too... but Nick wouldn't put money on the rabbit they put in at the start. After all, it hadn't been all that fresh to begin with, and it's been wrapped in cloth for a little too long.

Well, maybe once they get some chickens and find a post-apocalyptic appliance repair center, it'll be worth being the energy sink that it is. For now, Nick has to figure out what to do with these goddamn fish and the leftover stew from the other night. It's their own damn fault, thinking they'd still have company after revealing John, but that doesn't change the amount of food they have on hand.

At least when Grace comes back, they'll have something to repay her with, although Nick isn't sure she's willing to eat any of their food yet. She'd been okay about seeing John in the backyard, relatively speaking, but there's no way she actually believes any of the progress being made. And as much as Nick would like to tell her that her distrust is unwarranted, he can't exactly tell her how to feel. It's just gonna have to take time, and she's going to need a different kind of proof than Nick.

They aren't expecting any visitors, so the sound of engines on approach shakes Nick out of his thoughts and puts him on immediate high alert. He can't make out the number of vehicles, but it sounds like a goddamn posse, which can't be good. When he goes out into the yard to check on Kim, he finds her missing; John is the only one standing there, waiting nervously by the planters and looking for any sign to bolt.

"Stay here," Nick tells him as he approaches, heading straight for the front.

"Yes, I know ," John snaps, but Nick isn't going to stop to argue with him. He slows his anxious jog as he comes around the side of the house, catching sight of Hurk's motorcycle through the trees coming down the drive. Kim is standing in the front yard, arms loosely folded over her chest; she looks cautiously excited for the company, although neither of them are sure if this is strictly a social call. Nick sure hopes it is — he's not sure they could hold their own against a group with an RPG and a whole lot of crazy.

Hurk kills his engine once he sees they've got an audience, leaving his bike with the others in the drive. The big, blissed-out guy and the smaller, wild-card one stay on their bikes, while Sharky talks to somebody sitting on his ATV briefly before following his cousin's tracks.

Kim greets them with a warm smile as they come up. "Hey, you guys. We weren't expecting you to stop by again."

"We radioed ahead," Sharky grouses. "But nobody answered."

"Sorry, I wasn't near the receiver. We've been out back all day."

Hurk pulls off his sunglasses with a dramatic flair. "Yeah, I figured it was something like that," he says, with a tone that implies Sharky had a different theory, one Nick imagines involves John staging some sort of coup. "Well, whatever, we're here now!" Looking around coolly for a second, Hurk realizes he still needs to explain himself and bashfully elaborates, " Somebody oughtta know we got back alright, so we can get hired out again and whatnot..."

"Everything cool?" Sharky asks. He makes no effort to hide how he's looking for a fire that he can blame on John. Well, at least he's trying to find a good reason to beat John up this time.

"I should be asking you that," Kim counters, wearing a smile that's enough to disarm Sharky's gruff posturing. "How far did you get?"

"We hit Great Falls before we figured any further was a one-way trip. They're probably past Missoula if they kept up the clip."

"And how'd everything look?" Nick asks. "I mean, relatively speaking."

Sharky shrugs. "A whole lot of the same," he replies. Hurk rolls his eyes in his cousin's direction, fixing him with an annoyed stare that eventually wears Sharky out. Shoulders slumping in defeat, he opens up semi-reluctantly. "It wasn't the, uh... wild wasteland I was expecting. Lots of empty land and road stops. Some friendly, some... uh, not so much. But that group can handle it."

Nick is happy to agree, and not just to placate Sharky. "Yeah," he says. "Hope County breeds tough people."

"Did you guys pick up somebody along the way?" Kim asks, having just done a headcount of the remaining posse. Nick remembers the two on their bikes; the new guy, he remembers from the third car, quiet and quick to leave but otherwise unmemorable.

"Oh, that's Mud," Sharky says, pointing at the three who probably can't hear much over the rumbling engines. "He was with the caravan, but he changed his mind." Sharky's chest puffs up as he confidently tells them, "He's ridin' with us now."

"That's great!" Kim exclaims. She's genuinely excited by the news and the chance to socialize, and the effect of her positivity is hard to fight. Sharky can't help but smile back, even if he's trying to act tough, rubbing his hands together as he casts another approving glance back at his gang.

"Are you going to do anything to celebrate?" she asks.

"Not much to celebrate, he's kind of a nerd."

"Come on," Kim laughs. "You left home and came back with more people than you started with. I think most people these days would count that as a win." She rubs her hands together, looking briefly at Nick and suggesting, "We could have a fish fry?"

"Hey, that's an idea," Nick replies. "We caught some bass yesterday and they're just gonna get composted if we don't do something with them."

"I dunno about that," Sharky says, cutting off Hurk just before he can excitedly agree.

Kim presses her hands together. "Come on, stay," she pleads with a smile. "At least let us feed you. When's the last time you had something more than jerky and booze?"

"Well..." Sharky trails off uncertainly.

"Kim's right," Nick cajoles. "We got plenty to spare."

"Grace is going to be back with Carmina in a few hours," Kim adds. "I'm sure she'd be glad to see you guys."

Sharky rubs his beard, looking back at their waiting posse. "Grace, huh?" he repeats. He trades a few unsubtle glances with Hurk before finally turning back to Kim and Nick. "Yeah, that should be okay. Except — ah, shit. We promised Wallace and Tiny we'd start doing things democratically now that we won't keep tying over everything. Hold on, gotta go confer with the boys."

They only spend a minute talking it over before the two motorcycles kill their engines, which is all the confirmation Nick needs to know they're hosting company. "I'll go tell John," he tells Kim under his breath. "Somebody should give him a heads up before Sharky punches him again."

Kim sends him off with a pat on his shoulder as he heads for the backyard. John is still waiting by the planters, although he's staring longingly for the safety of the hangar. Nick can't blame him — he's still sporting a dark and noticeable bruise from the last time Sharky socked him. Hopefully, seeing his lingering handiwork will satisfy Sharky, otherwise, John might wind up with a matching set.

"Sharky and Hurk are back," Nick says. John doesn't exactly relax, but knowing he doesn't have to prepare for another ugly reintroduction keeps him from bolting. "They're, uh, gonna stick around until Grace gets back."

"Then I probably shouldn't be around," John replies.

"What, you wanna go hide all night?" Nick rolls his eyes. "No, don't be a baby. Worst that'll happen is you'll get knocked down again." John doesn't look convinced, so Nick tries another route. "Come on, we went through all that just so you wouldn't have to hide out every time we have company. And people are gonna have to get used to you eventually — at least Sharky and Hurk already know you're alive." Finally, when none of that seems to work, he sighs and promises, "I'll make sure nobody decks you for no good reason, c'mon."

John finally relents, sighing and gesturing vaguely. "Fine," he says, "Whatever you say."

And, even though Kim isn't around to force him to it, John sits back down at the planter and resumes pulling carrots. It's probably entirely out of spite, but at least it keeps him busy while the posse of would-be raiders filters into the backyard. Nick stands awkwardly at first as Wallace and Tiny stare aggressively at John's back, but when Kim rounds out the group and nobody takes a shot at either of them, he forces himself to ease up on the suspicion. From here on out, Nick is going to try his damnedest to act like everything is absolutely normal. Well, as normal as it can be.

Kim has Sharky talking from the outset, which makes it easy for him to avoid acknowledging John at all. It helps that she's genuinely interested in what he's been up to since they last saw each other — other than open-channel conversations on the radio, the Ryes haven't seen them since the world ended. With only one car and not a lot of fuel, they haven't had a chance to go exploring the east side of the county since climbing topside.

As it turns out, Sharky and Hurk have shacked right back up at the old trailer park. They'd met up with Wallace and Tiny sometime after coming topside, and right now the four of them are in the middle of making the park more hospitable. Sharky keeps mentioning a reception area, and Hurk says something about expanding the lot, so Nick suspects they're looking to cash in on the heretofore abandoned hospitality industry.

For now, though, it's just home to four wildcards and one multi-use distillery made from old airplane parts. "It's pretty much fucked," Sharky says, although truthfully, Nick thinks it sounds kind of badass. "But with enough elbow grease, we'll probably be able to make it livable." He looks around, craning his neck to eyeball the mostly-intact hangar and their secure house, and offers a genuine compliment. "You guys got lucky. No hate, just glad you had somewhere to hole up in. It would suck to really have to rough it with a kid around."

"Tell me about it," Kim agrees emphatically. "Although, it took a lot of work to make it this nice, and there's still a lot more to do."

Sharky and Hurk settling in around the fire-pit is all the invitation their crew needs to make themselves more at home. It's no surprise that they pretend like John isn't there — nor is it a surprise that John returns the favor. It's a little tense and a lot awkward for Nick, but for now it's at least a peaceful holding pattern.

"It sorta sucked, seeing everything as trashed as it is here," Tiny says somewhat morosely. "I mean, at least we ain't alone, but..."

"Hope Valley got the best of it in general," Wallace says. "Right in the sweet-spot. Ideal Collapse."

"He means most everything else got blasted," Tiny clarifies, a sort of post-Bliss interpreter. "You can tell when you leave the county. Eases up after a couple of miles, but there's, like, a big old ring around us."

"No doubt, no doubt," Wallace agrees. "Protecting the good stuff."

"It's pretty fuckin' weird," Hurk says. "But I don't know nothin' about nu-clear thermodynamics and whatnot. Could be normal as the albino deer and shit."

"Uh, you think that the caravan's gonna be okay out there, if everything's just as wrecked?" Nick asks.

"Oh, sure," Hurk drawls. "There were all sortsa people makin' due out there, one way or another. They'll be fine ."

Sharky sighs, opens his mouth, then thinks better of whatever he was going to say and changes course. "They made it pretty clear they would be happier without help," he says. "Hope that works out for them. Me? I'm ride-or-die Hope County. At least 'til Hurk here goes international again. Then, uh, I guess I'm gonna be ride-or-die Miami."

"Hell yeah!" Hurk shouts. "Gonna get the business back in business, y'know what I mean? First stop: check in on mama and Xander. Second stop: top of the world, baby!"

The posse rallies around Hurk's promise with excited whoops. Nick doesn't know what Hurk's job was before the apocalypse, but considering the contraband he used to get his hands on, it's probably something that will only flourish here in the apocalypse.

"'Course, she's probably dead," Hurk adds somewhat morosely at the end, sort of ruining the whole vibe.

Sharky slaps his shoulder a few times out of sympathy. "Don't know 'til we go lookin'," he says, which manages to prop Hurk's mood back up for the time-being. "Anyway, we got a whole slew of islands and mountains and shit to explore once we get established. Spending the rest of my life riding around Montana sounds like a waste of a good apocalypse, if you ask me."

The new guy, Mud, looks more confused than Nick about these future plans. "So, what'd they offer you for joining up?" Nick asks him. "Ten-percent of Boshaw-Drubman LLC?"

Startled, Mud shakes his head frantically. "No way. Uh-uh." Bashfully, he says, "I just, uh... got cold feet. But I don't got much out here, not since the, uh..." He glances past Nick, definitely eyeballing John, then swallows and edges around the truth. "Well, um, Sharky let me ride back, on account of the — well, uh, I didn't wanna get left behind either direction. And since I don't got anything, I offered to join up." He frowns, "Except I don't have a bike, or gas for a bike, or a gun, or bullets for a gun..."

"I told you," Sharky scolds like a mother hen, "We'll figure that shit out later."

"It's smart to stay together," Kim says when Mud fails to pick back up again. "It's what we should all be doing. Does that mean you're staying with them at the trailer park?"

Mud nods, while Tiny goodnaturedly jokes, "Not that there's much left to stay at..."

Sharky is quick to defend their home, even if he doesn't sound super convinced by his own argument. "Hey, we just haven't had time to, y'know, clean and all! We've been busy, man, you know that! Gathering ammo, building the still, brewing ..."

"Would be nice to have a roof over our heads, that's all," Tiny laughs.

"Where do you want me to go, the roof store ?"

The argument is mostly playful, but Nick knows it's only a matter of time before that playful resentment becomes real. Hurk already looks bored by the ribbing, which tells Nick a lot about how long this joke has been running. Even John is paying attention, although Nick only catches an uncomfortable backward glance.

It's a contentious problem for the gang, for sure. But Nick doesn't have to reach far to come up with an easy solution, one that he figures will benefit everybody involved. After all, even considering their own needs, they've got more than enough spare scrap to spare, and Hurk and Sharky's goodwill comes with guns and alcohol, so...

"You know," he says, "John and I found a lot of scrap cleaning this place up. Maybe you can use what we can't."

Sharky opens his mouth to say something, probably pretty rude, but he catches himself before he gets that far. "Wouldn't want to put you out like that," he mutters.

"Hey, we're all in it together, right?" Gesturing towards John, who looks like he'd rather fade back into the dirt around him, Nick offers a sort-of compromise. "We've been trying to figure out what to do with the surplus. This seems like a better use than anything we came up with."

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt," Sharky admits reluctantly.

Kim recognizes the need for some decisive action, and so she claps her hands together and takes the reins from her grateful husband. "Nick, you and John should take Hurk to look at what we've got. Then, all three of you can bring some wood back so we can get the fire started."

Sharky opens his mouth to object, but Hurk speaks up before he can. "Sounds good!" he exclaims, throwing himself to his feet with ease. Nick can't help but envy him — the guy's got twenty years on him, but Nick doesn't hear his knees popping randomly when he stands up.

"Y'all don't go startin' trouble," he warns his gang, waving Nick on. "Let's do it!"

John turns and heads immediately for the hangar door, disappearing inside without a backwards glance. Hurk lingers once they reach the door, casting a wide look around the empty wash of dirt leading out to the old landing strip before following John inside. He doesn't seem concerned in the slightest that John might be waiting to ambush him.

"Sorry about Sharky, by the way," Hurk says once the three of them are standing in the shade of the tarp overhead. "He's been real stressed is all, tryin' to act all fuckin' responsible and shit. John here making it after the deputy beefed it just hit hard, I guess."

Well, if that's the way Hurk's been referring to it, then no wonder Sharky's sensitive about it. "It's, uh. It's fine. We figured there'd be some... y'know. Reasonable resentment."

John does that thing where he pretends he can't hear he's being talked about, going straight to the log pile stacked against the back wall. Hurk doesn't seem to notice the silent treatment, turning to the organized junk spread out over the cracked concrete. From broken two-by-fours, bent fence-poles, chainlink scraps, and stacks of not-quite-moldy plywood, there's gotta be something here that can help fix up the trailer park. Nick makes sure to highlight the best scrap for Hurk's consideration, although he avoids mentioning their surplus of nails and stripped screws for now. No use showing his whole hand, right?

"Damn," Hurk says at last, looking around in mild astonishment. "Can we hire y'all to do this to our scrap?"

Nick laughs. "Yeah, like I wanna do all this again ."

"What about you?" Hurk asks John's back, ignoring the way he tenses at being directly addressed. "How do we rent you out?"

"You don't," John says, his tone briefly icing over as he turns, regarding them coolly over his armful of logs. He's more petulant than angry when he explains, "I don't owe you my life, so I don't owe you my labor."

"Fine, I'll just save you from a burning building or some shit," Hurk replies, as if he couldn't care less that it's John Seed he's bantering with. "I guess we gotta talk trading, now," he sighs reluctantly. "Man, I fuckin' hate this barter-system bullshit. You know, actually, I got a box full of bottle caps if you wanna..."

Nick waves away the extremely bad offer to invest in an unbacked currency. "Hey, don't worry about it," he says. Hurk frowns heavily at that, so Nick suggests a compromise. "Look, if you and Sharky wind up with your own microbrew, you owe me a case — and yes, I will take payment in installments. That sound fair?"

"If ?" Hurk replies. He lets out a big laugh. "Buddy, I got news for you."

Hurk, John and Nick each take an armful of wood back to the fire pit, where Kim seems to have everything under control. Sharky is less openly hostile when John reappears, anyway, which is a good sign. Mud and Tiny have apparently been given fire-starting duty, jumping to the task as soon as they drop off the wood. Sharky, a true pyromaniac, manages them from his seat by shouting directions at them as they stack the wood in the pit.

Before they can sit back down, Kim turns Nick and John back around for the fish. It's a one-person job, but John doesn't complain about being sent away.

"You okay?" Nick asks John when they reach the freezer.

"Yes," John replies automatically. Nick stares at him for a solid five seconds before he cracks with a frustrated sigh. "I'm just a little overwhelmed. That's reasonable, isn't it?"

"Sure," Nick agrees. He picks up the old bin they've been using to cart fish back from the river. "You can stick around here for a bit if you want. Take a breather."

John scoffs at the idea of taking a break, as per usual. "I thought the point was not to hide," he replies tersely. He reaches out to yank the cracked plastic container from Nick, a frustrated and instinctive reaction that he curbs at the last moment, fingers curling briefly into a fist as he forces himself not to just take things from Nick.

Taking pity on the dumb bastard, Nick pushes the bin into John's arms, flipping open the freezer door and staring down at the slimy, not-yet-smelly fish. "Well, if you need a break, just say you're gonna get more firewood." Nick shrugs. "Someone's gotta check on you eventually, but Kim knows the drill."

John doesn't respond as Nick loads up the bin, but Nick hopes he takes the out to heart. There's not a social obligation out there that Nick hasn't gotten out of by dedicating himself to some dumbass chore nobody else wants to do.

They return to find a roaring fire that is... hopefully under control. The mismatched seating has been pulled back to accommodate the fire's larger-than-average size, accompanied by a couple of chairs from inside to make up the difference. Sharky and Mud have disappeared, although they return just after Nick, each carrying a variety of bottles and jars of different sizes.

"Shit, I didn't think you brought the entire brewery with you!" Nick exclaims, not in the least bit upset by the development.

"Not until you clean all those up," Kim says before Nick can get ahead of himself. "You don't want to be handling a knife right after a shot of... whatever that is."

Nick groans, but she's right. As much as Nick would like to get drunk off his ass on torpedo juice, he has to get his priorities straight. Still — there's a lot more fish than Nick's willing to handle by himself, so he enlists a willing Wallace and Tiny to help out. He picks them mostly because they're openly carrying hunting knives, and because John is just plain bad at deboning fish. John stares at him resentfully, but since he hates handling food as much as he hates gardening, Nick's sure he'll get over it before dinner.

Nick doesn't have much control over the food once it's been cleaned, as Sharky and Hurk have some kind of bet going about who's the better cook and they don't need anybody else throwing their hat in. As far as Nick's concerned, their cooking tastes delicious but indistinguishable. Of course, Nick's waiting for his own dinner, so other than a few bites to try and judge the difference, he doesn't get to eat much of it.

Tiny and Wallace split and down an entire mason jar of mysterious dark liquor while they wait to eat. Nick wants to join them, but Kim's waiting until Carmina is home to start drinking and really, Nick should be doing the same. From the way John's watching distrustfully from the side, he's not likely to get into any moonshine himself.

Nick manages to hold out until after he's finished eating, but then Hurk offers him some moonshine directly and he can't say no. It would be in bad taste, right?

Oof. Turns out the moonshine is in bad taste, but that's what he should expect from something that's easily 120 proof. Nick takes one swig and immediately regrets it as it turns his chapped lips to fire and carries the heat all the way down the back of his throat. There's no taste or anything, just an intense, full-mouth burn and this lizard-brain instinct that everything is going to go horribly wrong if he drinks more of whatever that is.

"Jesus Christ !" he gasps. It's only Hurk's quick reflexes that keep the jar from crashing to the dirt, but Nick doubles down before Hurk can pry it out of his hands. Even as he struggles to form a sentence more complex than, " Poison ," he's got to go back for a second sip. As if somehow a second one would make things better — but of course it doesn't. At least, not to begin with; first, it's gotta turn his shredded lips inside out and throw his tear-ducts into overdrive better than an overripe onion.

"Well don't drink more of it," Kim huffs, way too late.

"Now be honest," Hurk asks, "Can you taste any apple?"

Nick pushes the jar back into Hurk's attentive hands, choking disbelievingly on the word, "Apple ," although now that he thinks about it... No, nope, no after-taste whatsoever. It does , however, warm him from the inside out, leaving him feeling a decent buzz for two conservative swigs.

"Whatever it is," Nick sighs at last, after a big swig of water, "It's great."

"You know," Kim says, "The sooner we put the stew on the fire, the sooner you can eat. Maybe then you could handle more than a couple of baby sips."

Nick clicks his tongue, taking some childish offense at his wife teasing him about his tolerance. At the same time, she's right — and Nick is getting hungry. There's still enough uncooked fish left for when Grace and Carmina get home, but if he wants them to have as much as everyone else, he'll have to settle for the three-day-old stew. At least Kim and John are stuck in the same boat as him.

Before he can get started on that, though, Grace surprises him by returning early with Carmina. Admittedly, it's still pretty late in the afternoon, but he hadn't expected her back so soon. She isn't surprised to find company, which is also a surprise, although she eyes the whole group somewhat distrustfully as she and Carmina round the side of the house. When she sees Hurk and Sharky drinking from their unsanitized brewing bottles, she finally relaxes, letting go of Carmina's shoulder so that she can join the not-necessarily child-safe group.

"Grace!" Sharky exclaims, leaping from his seat and almost grabbing her for a hug before remembering personal boundaries are a thing. "Holy shit, the world literally ended last I saw you!"

Grace returns Sharky's enthusiasm with her more subdued version of it, smiling fondly and following through the rest of the hug for him, the same way she'd grabbed onto Nick and Kim when they'd first come back topside. "Sharky, it's good to see you," she says, her voice deep with emotion.

"I radioed her while you were getting firewood," Kim mentions to Nick as Hurk takes his chance to get a hug from the usually reclusive sniper. "I thought she would appreciate a head's up. And, you know, it cheered Sharky up."

"Hey, good thinking."

Carmina approaches gleefully, carrying the rifle over her shoulder triumphantly. For a nine-year-old, she's pretty natural with the thing, which is a mixed blessing as far as Nick's concerned.

"Aunt Grace made moving targets!" she exclaims, excitement overriding her confusion momentarily until she looks at the group. "I didn't know we were having people over today..."

"It was a happy surprise," Kim tells her. "These are the guys who were helping that caravan heading west, remember?"

"Yeah," Carmina says. She looks immediately to John, who is way too busy staring tensely at Grace and Sharky's reunion to notice her.

"Don't worry," Nick says. "Everything's fine."

"Uh-huh," Carmina says, unconvinced. Thankfully, she doesn't seem too worried about another fight breaking out. That probably has something to do with her attention being focused in an entirely different direction. "Do we have pulleys? I wanna make a shooting range here! It's really easy!"

Nick's gut reaction is to say no, but Kim interrupts him. "Maybe while your dad is getting the stew, he can check," she offers, looking from Carmina to Nick significantly. "Then we can have some dinner and talk about it."

Although it looked like John hadn't been paying any attention before, he stands as soon as Kim mentions going to the hangar. "I remember seeing one," he says.

"You can help me look, then," Nick offers. "Maybe get some more firewood?"

"Yeah," John says absently. Nick barely steps into his line of sight, but that's all he needs, turning and making his way to the hanger down the same invisible path he was glued to before. Nick sighs, rolls his eyes at Kim entirely for show, and follows. Maybe once they get some food in him, John will stop being such a cagey bastard about the whole thing, and they'll be able to actually put things to rest with Grace and Sharky at last.

When the world ended, Nick had figured that meant the end of life as he knew it. In some ways, he'd been right — things will never be as easy, as safe, as peaceful as they used to be — but when his expectations had been wrong, they'd been completely off-base. He'd expected a nuclear wasteland, only to find a lush and thriving field. He'd expected roving gangs of murderers, and instead, he's only encountered desperate, decent people who would rather not waste the bullets. Hell, he'd expected to spend every day struggling to survive, and here he is, sitting in the backyard with a full belly and a shot of liquor to wind down. Sure, the gathering is a primitive knock-off of a barbeque, but Nick knows now that all they need is time and practice. Maybe someday, they'll even have a grill — burgers, corn on the cob, the whole works.

But hey. That's for the future, and right now, Nick isn't going to complain about some bad liquor, mediocre food and Hurk's stripped-down Slayer's cassette blaring from his beat-up stereo.

Carmina finally gets a chance to show off her skills to people other than her family, and so Hurk's boys take turns calling out targets for her to cap in an attempt to take her down a peg. Nick isn't sober enough to trust his daughter with a gun, but Kim hasn't gone back for another taste of "apple" moonshine yet, and Grace is sober as a rock, so they're more than capable of handling things. Mostly, they nix any particularly dangerous targets, keeping Carmina's shots focused out in the yard. Well, for the most part — neither of them can resist watching Carmina shoot the wind-vane still clinging to the roof, even if it means going right over everyone's heads.

It's all in good fun, of course. And, to their credit, not one of the guys even jokingly suggests taking aim at John as he sits apart from the group. It's a good thing, too — John looks uncomfortable at how good a shot Carmina is. Maybe Nick would be uncomfortable with it too, if he hadn't drunk a bottle-neck's worth of moonshine beforehand.

Nick doesn't have to drink a lot to feel downright tipsy, which is great. Back in the day, he used to like getting buzzed every so often, but he'd given up ever feeling safe enough to get inebriated as another lost memory from yesteryear. This... this is nice. And once the guns get put away, it'll be even nicer.

"I think you might be a better shot than Tipsy over here," Wallace tells Carmina, gesturing towards Tiny, who is indeed too tipsy to be a decent shot at all.

"Only one way to find out!" Tiny shouts, failing to move after his declaration.

"Maybe another time," Kim replies uncertainly. "When alcohol isn't involved?"

"Hey, Carmina," Hurk coos, pulling his battered gun into his lap, "This is a Kalashnikov, you ever shoot off one of these?"

"Ooh, no!"

Grace is much less diplomatic than Kim, cutting him off before he can feed Carmina's excitement any more. "Hurk!"

"What? Oh, uh... she's probably too young for an automatic, huh? What is she, nine? I got a Magnum in my saddlebag..."

It's not long after that they run out of targets, forcing an end to Carmina's demonstration of skill. Kim thankfully takes the gun so that nobody gets hurt, and Carmina spends the next twenty minutes peppering the crew with questions about their guns, their tattoos, their trip out with the caravan, and whether or not they have a moving target range like Grace does. Nick relaxes when he realizes that none of the guys are keen on giving a little girl another weapon, more interested in spinning drunken tall-tales that, truthfully, might be a little too PG for Carmina. At least Grace is listening in to fact-check any of their more problematic bullshit.

John isn't any less tense now that Carmina is disarmed, but Nick's not surprised. Sitting on the opposite side of the fire from everybody else, he might as well be hiding in plain sight. That goes against the entire point, but it's also his modus operandi these days. Normally, Nick would just ignore it, maybe even avoid John on purpose to show him how bad it feels, but tonight calls for a more direct approach.

"Need to get some firewood?" Nick asks him, coming to stand in his line of sight.

John squints up at him around the firelight. "No," he mutters, lying through his teeth before changing the subject. "Carmina has good aim."

"That's all Kim's genes. I'm more of a spray-and-pray kinda guy."

John doesn't quite hide his sarcasm, replying, "You don't say."

Nobody's offered John any liquor yet, he's pretty sure, so Nick holds the bottle out in an easily declined gesture. "Wanna try?" he asks, just in case he's being more subtle than he thinks. "Supposed to take like apples."

John gives the bottle an unimpressed once-over. "I don't think so," he decides, not sounding entirely sure about it. He adds defensively, "My tolerance is shot."

"If you say so," Nick replies, pulling the bottle back. "It's not like I'm gonna peer pressure you. This isn't high school. But, uh, try to relax. If anyone was gonna take a shot at you, they would've done it by now."

"Easy for you to say," John sighs.

It is easy for Nick to say, but he hopes John actually listens to him for once. He's not expecting miracles or anything, but if John's going to stick around, he's going to have to learn how to relax. Well — at least that's one learning curve that everybody is struggling with. Baby steps, right?

Nick leaves John alone for now; maybe he'll warm up into the idea of mending some metaphorical fences before everyone leaves, which would be ideal. For now, Nick goes back to the rest of the group, taking a few more sips as he listens to Carmina start to spin her own tall tales. Now that she's recognized the pattern in all of the stories the adults have been telling — larger-than-life enemies, intimidating names, lots of Foley work — she's attempting to match their vivid stories with a highly interpretive retelling about the turkey she saved her mom from a few months ago. The way she tells it, Nick would've expected the turkey she'd brought back to be at least the size of a car, but if Kim is playing into her part as a damsel in distress, Nick isn't going to ruin things by being the cynic realist.

They trade a few more stories. As they do, Kim takes a few extremely sour drinks of whatever the dark stuff is. She's been on hosting duty all day already, and Nick hasn't done much to help, getting tipsy right away with the rest of the guys like he had. But, with things starting to get late for a family of three, Nick decides it's his time to step up to the task of parenting.

Carmina hasn't had enough life experience to have many stories to share with the encouraging group of drunken manchildren, so once the attention turns to Tiny's story of his first swim after the world ended, Nick uses the out as a chance to usher her away.

"I think we oughta get you ready for bed," he tells Carmina, who boos under her breath but doesn't put up a fight, mostly because the story involves lots of nudity that she isn't at all interested in hearing about. Nick can't blame her — he doesn't wanna hear about Tiny almost getting his nuts bit off by a demon fish, either.

"Okay, but I want a good bed-time story," she demands, reasonably enough. Nick doesn't have anything as funny as Hurk's story, or anything as action-packed as Sharky's retelling of the first roadblock they encountered out on the road, but he has to at least try.

The good thing about Carmina not knowing anything about life before is that Nick can stretch some truths without repercussion. So when he tucks Carmina in, he decides to tell her the story of when she was born — this time, though, he doesn't leave out the roadblocks, or the deputy's shitty driving, or the narrowly-missed explosions. Couched in a long line of tall tales and exaggerated stories, Carmina doesn't believe most of the true stuff and only playfully believes in the bullshit.

Between Nick's bedtime-story voice and him gently stroking her hair, it's a wonder Carmina stays awake for as long as she does. Eventually, though, well before he finishes the story, she closes her eyes and finally stops resisting the chance for a good night's sleep. Nick stays put, lying next to her for a few minutes as he listens to the faint sound of conversation outside. He tries to make out the voices, to decipher who might be talking to who, but he only hears a dull hum.

He'll get up in a few minutes, go down and have a real drink with his wife for the first time in nine years, but the alcohol he's already had entices him to lie still just a little longer.

He doesn't know how long he dozes for, but when Nick is next aware of his surroundings, the light has changed in the room from the rising moon and the conversation outside has shifted in tone and pitch, the way any party might as it enters the late-night phase. Sitting up, Nick immediately knows he needs two things — more water, and one or two more swigs of that awful moonshine, just to keep the hangover from starting before he actually goes to bed.

The back porch is still wide open. The fire has died down, although it's still enough light to see by as Nick reappears. Kim sees him immediately, lifting a half-empty jar of dark liquid in his direction and waving him down with her free hand.

"This one is much better," she tells him as he approaches, holding out the jar. Well, Nick isn't about to reject his wife's kind offer, although he immediately regrets it when he takes a swig.

" Ugh ," he chokes around the harsh burn, feeling it drain all the way back into his throat. "That tastes like paint thinner!"

"Trade secret!" Hurk exclaims, adding immediately after, "Not that there's any paint or thinner in there, or anythin'. Nope. It's 100% organic malt liquor!"

Nick has no idea how Hurk would manage to find barley, but sure, he'll buy it. Another sip doesn't do any better, and to his surprise, he realizes that he actually prefers the moonshine.

As he hands the jar back, Nick does a quick head-count, coming up two short. "Uh, where's John?" he asks.

"Oh," Kim says. She points towards the hangar. "We needed firewood," she says. "Except, eventually, we really needed firewood. I sent Sharky to get some." It seems like only when she says it does she realize what a bad idea it is. "Well, we were in the middle of something, and I was distracted," she explains reluctantly.

"I wasn't," Grace utters next to her.

Kim rolls her eyes. "You should go check on them. I mean, it's fine. But maybe you should, anyway."

Nick looks over at the hangar. There aren't any lights to speak of out here, but Nick can see the glow of the lantern through the open doorway, shadows moving around behind the worn-out wall. "Yeah," he agrees, turning and heading across the wash. He only thinks of grabbing a drink for the journey after he starts walking, but he's already halfway there and he doesn't have time to turn around and come back.

Sharky appears in the doorway, forcing Nick to pull up short to avoid running into him. He looks — fine? There's too much beard and too little light to see his expression clearly, but Sharky doesn't seem phased in the least to find Nick in his way. He passes by Nick with a few logs under one arm, patting Nick heavily on his shoulder with his free hand.

"It's cool, bro," he says, "We're all good."

"Uh... okay," Nick replies, deeply unsure as Sharky casually heads back for the fire. Briefly worrying that he might find John knocked out on the ground, Nick tries not to stress out as he heads inside.

John is sitting on a discarded chopping block by the woodpile, the lantern settled by his feet. Nick doesn't see any blood or a new black eye; just John, rolling a nearly-empty glass bottle between his palms as he drifts in thought.

Nick almost feels bad interrupting, but John catches sight of him before he can retreat undetected. He looks surprised — genuinely, openly surprised to see Nick standing there, sincerely confused when he says, "I thought you went to bed."

"And miss out on all the action?" Nick chuckles. He gestures at the bottle. "So much for your tolerance being shot, huh?" he teases.

"Oh, hmm?" John looks down at the bottle like he'd forgotten about it. "Only enough to get them off my back." He sighs, following it up with a swig that he barely winces through. "After all, saying no ain't my thing ." Nick isn't sure if that drawl is for sarcastic quotation purposes, or if John's had enough moonshine to play at being white trash. "Then again, I only quit drinking because of Joseph. No point resisting now."

"I guess," Nick agrees reluctantly. "Is that, uh, what you and Sharky were talking about?"

John rolls his eyes. "No," he says. He holds out the bottle, waiting until Nick takes it to elaborate. "Kim suggested they sleep out here tonight. He was making sure there's room."

"Oh." Nick takes a drink; maybe it's just the malt liquor talking, but now Nick can sort of taste the apple around the burn. He takes one more swig, just to make sure, then hands the bottle back. "Well, as long as he wasn't hassling you."

"No more than I deserve," John says. Nick must make some kind of face, because he sighs and placating adds, "It's fine, Nick. I'm more than capable of handling a few sarcastic comments from some hillbilly outlaw." He looks down, tipping the bottle a bit to swirl the moonshine inside.

"He... means well," he says eventually. "Everyone means well."

"You don't have to sound so bummed out about it."

John chuckles. It's the first time Nick's heard his laugh and not mistaken it for a cough or wheeze. "I don't mean to be," he says. He takes a drink and looks up at Nick with a... weird look on his face. Open. Genuine? Nick's not sure. But despite the topic, John's expression radiates a deep, contemplative peace. "It's more generosity than I can bear from people I genuinely thought of as the enemy."

He is definitely drunk. "Oh, boy," Nick sighs, reaching out for the bottle before John drops it or finishes it off himself. "To be fair, uh, it's easier to be nice to you since we won, and all."

"Oh, I do not doubt it." John relinquishes the drink, seemingly aware enough to admit, "I've had more than enough."

"I think everybody's had enough," Nick says, proving his own point by immediately regretting his next swig. "God damn . Okay, well — we should probably get some wood. I gotta feeling those guys are gonna be up for a while, and we wanna keep them happy."

John nods, but he doesn't rise from his spot. "Wait," he says when Nick goes to pass him, so Nick obligingly stops, raising an eyebrow at John's half-lifted hand.

"You have to understand," he says. "I'm not — I don't know how I'm supposed to express my gratitude towards you. With Joseph, with — well, everyone , I've always known how to express my loyalty. I knew what they expected from me, what would make them happy, what... wouldn't. But with you, with Kim... I don't know anything. I feel like a child. I don't know how that makes me feel, other than like an idiot."

He heaves a frustrated, heavy sigh, ducking his head towards his nervously entwined hands. "Just — thank you," he finishes miserably.

"Wow," Nick utters in response. He doesn't know what else to say, really, except the obvious, but he genuinely means it when he replies, "Well, you're welcome. Man, and here I always figured you were playing me for a sap."

John laughs, shaking his head. "Manipulation has never been my strong suit," he admits. "I'm too heavy-handed for that crap. Intimidation and brute force, on the other hand..." He lets out a relieved sigh. "Thank God I was too sick to revel in my self-destruction."

"Yeah, I'm glad I didn't have to shoot you," Nick chuckles. "Sorta would've gone against everything I'm trying to build, you know?"

"I do now," John says. "I only wish I'd realized it before the end of the world."

"Hey, the world hasn't really ended," Nick points out. "There's still a whole left to do." He gestures towards the woodpile. "We can start by making sure Kim doesn't leave me for the raiders giving her free alcohol."

John stands, shaking his head as if he could clear the smile from his face. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, not until they figure out how to brew a decent beer. Kim was going without for the baby. She probably would've murdered me if it meant she could've had a case of Newcastle in the bunker for a few months there."

Then again, she had also been freaking out about the nuclear apocalypse occurring above-ground, so Nick really should cut her more slack.

"You definitely have nothing to worry about," John reiterates. "But fine. No more back-talk."

"Yeah, fat chance of that. C'mon, give me a hand."

Nick leaves the bottle on the chopping block and utilizes John's uncanny strength, loading him up with an armful of wood before taking a few logs for himself, to give the appearance of helping. John doesn't complain, which isn't unusual by itself, but tonight it feels like genuine complacency, not just something he's doing to survive. And when they return to the fire, dropping off the wood for Mud and Tiny to utilize, John doesn't retreat to the safety of the other side of the fire. He instead lingers by Nick, going so far as to play along whenever Kim asks him questions, just to make him feel included. He, unlike Nick, is smart enough to refuse any more of the malt liquor Kim's taken a liking to, but he holds the jar for show from time to time, just to keep Hurk happy. In a weird way, Nick feels like he can actually see John taking those wobbly steps Kim is always hoping to see, and even weirder than that, the anxiety that maybe he's making a mistake fails to manifest, leaving Nick with a warm, fuzzy feeling that could very well be pride.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

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breakingsomething · 5 years ago

Note

4 and 17 with dapper and anti? time to be :(

this got super long and i am so sorry. i'll add a read more for this one - please enjoy!

trigger warnings: self harm mention, abuse between brothers

this should be easy. all he had to do was find the right frequency.

dapper twisted the knob, wincing at the screeching sound it made before calming himself, taking deep breaths. anti's not here, he reminded himself. anti's not here.

he'd been trying to do this for hours, to no avail. he'd managed to find many other people through this - so many others, even people who knew the person he was looking for - but not him. how could he not have found him? unless… unless he really did hate dapper for what he'd done.

dapper lowered his head onto the desk, breathing hard. he dug his fingernails into his palm, wishing he didn't bite them so they'd draw blood. he wanted to hurt again, he didn't deserve to be here unharmed when he'd done such terrible things… he could see his brother's face in front of him, screaming. "dapper, dapper, stop, it's me!" he'd sobbed. "he's messing with your mind, this isn't ok, please!"

dapper let out a small whine and clutched at his head. now was not the time for remembering.

knocking from downstairs. dapper's blood ran cold. knocking, oh fuck, anti's knocks, not now, not now! he scrambled to his feet, tearing the batteries from the back of the radio and tossing it back into anti's drawer, fumbling to relock it, and oh no, where did the batteries go? fuck, he had forgotten to knock back! he raced out the room to the hall and rapped his knuckles on the wall, tapping out the letter 'd' in morse as loudly as he could. was he too late? would anti suspect? it didn't matter, there were footsteps coming upstairs and he was still clutching the batteries in his sweaty hands. oh god, oh god, he was terrified.

he'd only just managed to shove his hands into his hoodie pockets and dart into the bathroom when anti's head appeared round the corner. he was grinning, a real, genuine smile spread across his face. dapper slipped out the bathroom, smiling back at his brother innocently, his heart still racing wildly, the batteries heavy against his stomach.

"dap!" anti cried, clapping his hands. his scarf was stained with black, and dapper could see familiar darkness around his fingernails. "take a guess at what i did today!"

dapper raised his hands to sign an answer, but suddenly anti frowned. "wait, dap. did you... see anyone today?"

dapper shook his head, afraid to breathe.

anti stood very still. "something…" he murmured. and then, fuck, he was turning to glance at his office door. the room dapper had just been in, the one that was slightly ajar.

"wait!" dapper desperately signed, grabbing at anti's sleeve to get his attention. "anti, anti, there was - there was -"

anti shook him off, not even looking at his hands, before determinedly storming towards the door and throwing it open. he marched inside and dapper, helpless, followed him.

anti stood in the center of his office, glitching wildly, biting his lip so hard a tiny trail of blood drips from his mouth. "someone - someone has been messing with my shit!" he roared.

he turned to face him. dapper stood his ground, eyes wide, hands held in front of him in a weak protest. dapper hadn't seen such fury in those black eyes directed at him in a long, long time.

"you little fucking bitch," anti spat, and before dapper could do anything, anti was grabbing his wrist and twisting, leaving dapper to claw at his iron grip with his other hand, terrified. "tell me what you did."

his tone was steady, yet dapper knew anti better than anyone, and could tell when he was masking the rage in his voice. this was one of those times. he shook his head rapidly, trembling with fear.

"fucking liar!" anti suddenly screamed, and threw dapper back so hard into the wall that he bounced, landing sideways on the floor. he coughed intensely, wheezing as he tried to get his breath back. his head was spinning.

"well, well, well. what is this, then?" he heard anti say softly, and he managed to lift his head to see anti crouched down, holding- oh. oh. the batteries had fallen out of his pocket. oh, oh, oh.

anti's head snapped up, and dapper stared into his eyes, unable to move. there was an agonizing moment of silence. a smile crept onto anti's face, but it was a different smile than the one from a minute earlier. this smile was full of fury.

"playing with my radio, were you, dapper jack?" anti drawled, and the use of his full name sends sparks into his heart.

"no, no!" dapper signed with shaking hands. "i didn't, i wasn't!"

anti straightened, his movements slow and deliberate. "don't lie to me, dap. you've never been able to lie to me."

"i'm not lying!" he was near tears, unable to even stand and defend himself. he curled up, hands over his head and face pressed into his knees. this is it. my brother is going to kill me.

instead, he heard giggling. he peeked through his knees to see anti above him, a hand over his eyes as he laughed, still holding the batteries. dapper ducked again, too scared to keep looking.

"you were trying to contact kitten, weren't you, dapper?" anti said, very suddenly cutting off his laughter. dapper just nodded, not even looking. he didn't want to see anything.

to his utmost surprise, anti didn't do anything. didn't hurt him. he just sat down beside his trembling brother, who flinched away, drawing somehow even further into himself.

"didn't mean to hurt you," anti mumbled. he was a lot more subdued all of a sudden. "anger got the better of me."

dapper waited. he knew he wasn't allowed in his brother's office. he knew. he would be punished. he just had to wait and see how terrible it would be.

there was about five minutes of excruciating silence. then - "i won't be able to leave you alone now, i hope you know. i can't trust you."

dapper looked up at that, raising his head fully to stare at his brother in shock. surely that couldn't be it. surely.

anti stared out the window across the room from them. then, without warning, he closed his eyes and made a noise deep in his throat. "get out my bloody office."

dapper didn't wait. he raced from the room, absolutely elated that he was escaping relatively unharmed. sure, he hadn't gotten ahold of kitten, but he was alive. he was alive.

anti stared at the wall, breathing hard.

he could have hurt him so badly. he knew dapper had been expecting a punishment - he could see the fear and acceptance on his face. but the second he'd thrown him back and looked at those eyes, those big grey eyes full of terror, terror that he relished in anyone else…

anti smacked his head off the wall and groaned.

when had he gotten so soft? or, more accurately, when had he gotten so soft for dapper?

he staggered to his feet. he'd better go watch his brother, make good to his promise. wouldn't want him thinking he had anti wrapped round his little finger, after all.

#jacksepticeye #boop writes #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #prompt #cest-mellow #arc three: righting wrongs

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daveyjacobss · 5 years ago

Text

i’ve waited my whole life

jack kelly x davey jacobs

summary: i want to drive away with you, i want your complications too

(or: jack and davey get caught in a blizzard on the way to the jacobs’ for hanukkah)

a/n: happy hanukkah everyone!! it’s 10:26 pm here which means i officially finished this in time for the first night of hanukkah!!! hope you all enjoy this, as always - i’d love to hear your reactions :) (& yes the title is from paper rings by taylor swift and there will hopefully be a holiday themed mini series with other taylor swift lyrics and other ships)

also - the spacing/formatting of this is showing up really weird for me, so sorry if it shows up like that for you too :/

ao3 | masterlist

__________

It started snowing only a little bit before Jack and Davey left their shared apartment and got into their car. It was just a few flurries, nothing too much to worry about. At least, that's what the weather forecast had said. So they headed out with no worries on their mind, singing loudly to the songs on Jack's playlist. Jack was behind the wheel because Davey was too anxious of a driver, and Jack hadn't wanted to stress him out at all. Which he wasn't, or at least it didn't seem like it. Which was good, obviously. Even if Jack himself was maybe, possibly, more anxious than he'd ever been.

They were on their way to Davey's parents house, with the intention of spending the entire of Hanukkah there. Jack wasn't Jewish, but after so many years of knowing Davey and being welcomed into his family he was fairly familiar with their traditions. And, really, none of that should have made him anxious in the slightest - because he knew Davey's family. He loved the Jacobs, and they loved him. Davey had already made several comments about how excited Les would be to hang out with Jack (the kid practically idolized him) and he and Sarah were good friends, despite the fact that she was dating Jack's sort of ex-girlfriend. (They were fine, though. The break up was mutual, and Katherine and him were still close.) Davey's parents were happy to have him, they always had been from the minute he had befriended Davey back in high school. And he wasn't an anxious driver like Davey. Actually, driving came naturally to him, just like painting. So there was no reason for him to be so stressed.

Except he was. And maybe there was a small, minuscule, barely-there reason. For example, the fact that it had only been a week since Jack had realized that he was in love with his best friend, AKA the guy seated next to him passionately singing along to Paper Rings. Jack wanted to lean over and kiss him senseless, to hell with safe driving. He did not do that, obviously, but the thought was there, and it made him anxious.

They had been watching some Hallmark Christmas movie together on the couch when it happened. They both adored those stupid films, entertaining themselves by making comments and jokes, criticizing every action each character took. The main protagonist in the movie they'd been watching had done something particularly idiotic, and Jack made a comment about how it was dumber than that time Race and Albert has decided to test out whether their tongues would actually stick to a frozen pole. Davey has burst out laughing, spilling some the popcorn out of the bowl that had been resting on his lap. Jack looked over with a smug smile, proud of his joke, but it fell away quickly. Watching as Davey laughed, the light from the TV screen illuminating his face, took Jack's breath away. He looked so...so.... beautiful. And then that was all he could think about, just how fucking gorgeous Davey Jacobs was. Davey seemed none the wiser to Jack's heart-stopping epiphany. But Jack was suddenly hyper aware of how close they were sitting, sharing the same blanket and eating popcorn out of the same bowl, legs touching. He couldn't get himself to pay attention to the rest of the movie, his breath hitching each time Davey moved. Davey fell asleep only a little bit after the next movie started, his head falling on Jack's shoulder.

Jack wanted to run to the window, open it, and scream endlessly into the abyss of the night sky. He could not have a crush on Davey, of all people. Not after all these years of strictly platonic feelings. Except, maybe they hadn't been. The longer he sat there with Davey's head on his shoulder, the more he realized just how long he had been harboring feelings for his roommate. And, with that, came the realization that those feelings were not simply a crush.

So as Davey laughed his way through songs and the snow steadily began to pick up, Jack was extremely anxious. He didn't know how to act around Davey anymore. Try as he might, nothing he said or did felt right. Nothing felt normal. Davey could tell something was off, Jack knew he could, but he was merciful enough to leave it be. Jack joined him in singing along with a Mumford & Sons song, hoping that he didn't look as distraught as he felt. More than anything, he was terrified that Katherine and Sarah would see right through him. They would know.

They were about an hour into the drive when Jack started to grow worried about the snow. The windshield wipers were working like crazy, and they could only see so far ahead of the car. Davey, ever the sensible one, unplugged Jack's phone and switched to a radio channel announcing weather reports. The radio anchor's voice filled the car, somewhat disrupted (which Jack assumed was due to the storm they were driving through).

"No one could have predicted this blizzard!" The guy said, sounding cheerful. Davey and Jack exchanges worried glances, but kept quiet so they could keep listening. "Due to the poor visibility out on the roads, all drivers are being urged to find somewhere to park or pullover, and hopefully make it inside."

"Great," Jack quipped sarcastically, trying to sound unfazed. Davey whipped out his phone, presumably looking up places near them that they could go. Without thinking, Jack reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. The last thing he wanted was Davey having a panic attack because of the snow. Jack was a good enough driver, and it wasn't as if they were driving in the middle of nowhere - there was bound to be somewhere they could go. Davey shot him a grateful look before returning his gaze to his phone, sitting up straighter within a few seconds.

"Okay, at the next light we come to turn right. There's a diner not too far down the road and the website says they're open." Jack nodded in affirmation, slowing to a stop at the red light as he turned on his turn signal. The turn itself was bit bumpy, their tires slipping a little on the snow. Davey drew in a sharp breath and his hand shot out to grip tightly onto Jack's arm. Jack hated how his heart skipped a beat at the contact.

The diner in question came into view rather quickly, a warm yellow and red sign composed of neon lights informing them that it was called Frank's. Jack pulled into the parking lot fairly easily, parking in the closest spot to the building available. There was only two other cars in the small lot, so they assumed they wouldn't be getting too much company while they were there. They both zipped up their jackets all the way and did everything they could to cover every inch of themselves to stay protected from the cold. Davey took a deep breath and then looked over at Jack.

"Okay," he said, muffled due to the fact that the bottom of his face was tucked into the neck of his coat. "Let's do this."

They opened their respective car doors and jumped out as quick as they could, slamming the doors behind them as they made a break for the entrance to the building. They burst through doors panting with a gust of wind right behind them. A girl around their age, maybe a little older, looked up from where she stood behind the counter, drinking from a mug. She raised an eyebrow at them with a somewhat amused grin.

"Suppose you boys are looking for somewhere to escape the storm?" She asked, a slight drawl in her voice that made it sound like she had grown up in the south. Jack nodded in response, flexing his hands to try and bring some warmth into his hands. "Well, take any table you like," she instructed. "I'll go grab you some menus." She retreated through a door to what Jack assumed was the kitchen in the back. He followed Davey's lead to a booth by the windows, sliding into the seat opposite him.

"Damn," he sighed, looking out at the snow. "Guess we're gonna be late." Davey let out a very unattractive snort that Jack should not have found endearing in the slightest (except he did).

"Yeah, I'd say so," Davey smiled. The girl returned then, saving Jack from getting too lost in Davey's eyes. Now that she was out from behind the counter, heading toward their booth with menus in hand, he could see that she was wearing a yellow 50s style uniform. It was cute and, as he looked around, he realized that it matched the aesthetic of the rest of the diner as well. There was a jukebox against one of the walls and photos and posters from the 50s scattered through the place. Jack was filled with the urge to sketch it, but all of the art supplies he had brought with him were back in the car.

When the waitress reached their table she laid the menus out in front of them and Jack was able to read on her name tag that her name was Maria.

"Alright, so right now we're technically serving the lunch menu," she pointed to the middle section of Davey's menu, "but we serve breakfast all day, and if y'all want something from the dinner menu, that's fine. Not like we're getting much other business today." She shrugged with an easy smile. "Can I start you off with some drinks? Normally I'd recommend the milkshakes but, well..." she gesture out the window and Jack gave a little laugh. She smiled sweetly at him in response.

"You know what?" He asked. "I'll still take a milkshake. Black and white, please."

"And for you, doll?" She turned Davey. Jack watched as his cheeks tinted pink at the nickname and simultaneously wanted to tease him and tell Maria to back off (not that he had any right to do that, but he wanted to be the one making Davey blush).

"I'll have a Oreo milkshake, please," he spoke quietly.

"Sure thing," she grinned at the both of them. "They'll be right out."

They sat in silence for a few moments, simply enjoying the peaceful atmosphere of the diner. Jack watched Davey's face as the other man gazed at the falling snow with an almost childlike wonder. He had always known that Davey was the out-of-this-world type beautiful, even from the first moment he saw him - but what he hadn't realized was that, overtime, those foreign elements of beauty had instead become familiar and comforting, giving him a new type of artistry. His eyes, once mysterious, were now read as easily as a book. He hadn't realized how long he had simply been ogling at Davey until Maria came back with their shakes in hand.

"Here ya go," she grinned, setting their glasses down in front of them. Her smile turned sheepish as they both grinned back at her. "Would y'all mind if I just hung out in the kitchen for now? My girlfriend's back there making food for us." A warm feeling bloomed in Jack's chest. No matter how old he got, he didn't think he would ever get past the joy that came with hearing someone else talk so casually about not being straight.

"It's no problem at all," Davey said at the same time as Jack opened his mouth to say "Of course."

"Thank you," Maria beamed. "If y'all need anything you have full permission to go into the kitchen." With that, she was practically skipping off.

"Well, that was nice" Davey chuckled softly. Jack focused on his milkshake so as not to find himself captivated by the way Davey's face had softened at the mention of the waitress's girlfriend.

__________

They'd been at the diner for a few hours, talking and playing games to pass the time. They hadn't seen a lot of Maria, but they had met her girlfriend, Abigail, who had greeted them with one of the biggest, friendliest smiles Jack had ever seen.

"Okay, so," Jack began. "In the future, would you rather there be flying cards or actual hoverboards like in Back to the Future?" Davey, who was laying on one of the booth seat with his head hanging upside down facing Jack laying in a booth opposite him, tilted his head with a questioning look on his face.

"Are there hoverboards in Back to the Future?" He asked. Jack took a pause to think.

"Pretty sure, yeah. 'S been a while since I've seen it."

"I don't think I've watched it since I was a kid and my parents showed it to me and Sarah."

"We're getting off topic here, Dave." Davey's cheeks went rosy in response to the nickname and Jack grinned.

"Alright, I suppose I'd want flying cars," Davey finally answered.

"Why?"

"I'd probably fall off of a hoverboard, to be honest." Jack burst out laughing at his answer, and Davey smiled at him when he did.

"Oh, you definitely would!" Jack giggled. "You'd call right on your face, oh my god!" Davey sat up to grab a napkin of the table before crumbling it up and throwing it at Jack. It hit him right on the forehead and his laughter only increased in volume, Davey joining in.

"Okay, okay," Davey heaved, still catching his breath. "In the future." Jack motioned for him to continue, still slightly laughing. "In the future, how many kids do you want?"

"Not sure I want any really, not when I'm basically already a father for all of the boys," Jack smirked. Davey smiled fondly at him.

"Don't think that's gonna work," Davey chuckled. "I've already got tons of baby name options for us." He smiled at Jack, all bright eyes and messy hair and flushed cheeks with the snowy world in the window behind him and just from looking at it Jack could tell it was so, so cold but Davey was right there and he was nothing but warmth.

Us.

Jack couldn't breath.

And Davey was still just sat there, smiling at him like he hadn't just sent Jack's heart running directly out of his chest.

"Us?" He finally managed to ask, voice barely even a whisper. Davey's smile dropped and his blush deepened, his eyes immediately leaving Jack's face in favor of staring at the wall to his right. "David," Jack tried again, voice a little bit stronger. "What did you by 'us'?" Davey glanced quickly at him before looking away again as if his life depended on it.

"I just-" He started, but his voice gave out on him slightly and he paused to breath, and then gulped in a cartoonish way that Jack would have teased him about at any other time. "Whenever I think about the future, I think about us. Together." Davey's face was red to a concerning degree and his hands were shaking and fidgeting in a way that made it clear to Jack that his anxiety was kicking in at full force. But Jack wasn't supposed to be someone that Davey got anxious around, he was supposed to be the one who kept Davey grounded, who held his hand when he needed a physical anchor and counted his breaths for him. Davey was sat there, all bright eyes and messy hair and flushed cheeks. He was beautiful and familiar and warm and he was home. And Jack was so unbelievably irreversibly in love with him.

Davey opened his mouth to start speaking again, but before he even got the chance Jack had crossed the space between their opposite booths and had practically tackled him down into the cushioned booth seat.

Kissing Davey was easy. Kissing Davey was breathtaking and warm and fuzzy and happy. Kissing Davey was all Jack had wanted to do for years, even if he hadn't known it. And Davey was kissing him back. Davey was grabbing his shoulders and his hair and pulling closer and Jack could kiss him for the rest of time and never grow tired of it. They were in the middle of a blizzard in a 50s themed diner, laying down tangled up in one of the booths, and it wasn't where Jack had pictured it happening. In all of his daydreams, he'd never pictured where they would end up - where it would happen. But when they pulled apart and they were both panting and Davey beamed up after him with a look of pure elation Jack didn't even give it a second thought before saying it.

“I'm in love with you."

Davey's smile only widened as he pulled Jack in for another kiss.

"I'm in love with you too, you dork." Jack laughed and then so did Davey and everything felt so absolutely right. They spent the rest of their time in the diner cuddled up in that booth, talking quietly with flushed cheeks and ecstatic smiles.

When the storm cleared enough for it to be safe to get back on the road, they bid Maria and Abigail a cheerful goodbye. The car ride the rest of the way to Davey's parents' house was charged with a new type of energy. They debated whether or not to tell everyone right away, given they had quite literally just gotten together, and decided against saying anything immediately - if only because they wanted to see whether Sarah or Katherine would figure it out first.

And, despite his normal anxiousness on the road, Davey held Jack's hand the whole time.

_________

taglist:

@isarants @tomanybandstolove @seriously-ceci @bens-platt @earlyjunes @broadway-trashh @interwebseriesfan24 @returnoftheborle @cozykleinman @timesarehardfornewsies @jackclyde @last-an-eon @annabethgranger123 @musi-xals @notyouraveragegryffindoor @magic-made-by-melody @i-also-miss-our-talks

@linfuckingmirandaaa @shatteringinprogress @storytellersun @psych-stereo @books-cats-sprinkles @me-andthe-sky @connor-is-my-sunshine @merediths2003 @papesfordavey @larryisinfactnotstraight @casifer-is-cute @gem-evieve @actually-lizzy @broadwayobsessedteen @majo16199 @sarkitsm @suffering-bi @tommy-braccoli @starryrevelations @woolfhrd @thesleepingandthedead @cruelnatalie @bencookisagod

#javid #jack kelly x davey jacobs #newsies #javid fic #newsies fic #bambi can kinda write

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spideyy-girl · 5 years ago

Text

Bulletproof ~ Steve Harrington

Summary: Y/N, a super individual like Eleven, and Steve are captured and interrogated by the Russian soldiers who are working under Starcourt mall and have to find a way to escape before they get killed by the commies…

Fandom: Stranger Things (3)

Warnings: swearing, torture, getting shot, and reader and steve being high as fuck lmao

Word Count: 3223 (9 pages)

A/N: so this was supposed to be uploaded like a week ago but if you follow me you might know that I’ve been having problems with the tag system, and my works never show up on the search engine, so sorry it’s so late! My school starts next Wednesday so updates might be a little slower (or maybe even a little faster) but I still have a Richie headcanon on the way!

~~~

Y/N had no idea how on earth she got herself in this situation.

When her younger friend Dustin told her and Steve Harrington, a close friend of theirs and Y/N’s sort of giant crush, about a secret spy code he had picked up from his homemade radio tower, she was intrigued, to say the least. And you know what they say: curiosity killed the cat. And it sure as hell seemed like she was gonna die, but she didn’t think her life would end tied up to said ice-cream slinger from before while being interrogated by a bunch of evil Communists in a secret Russian lair under the mall where he worked and she visited regularly.

It had been hours, and Y/N continued to scream for help, trying to get anyone’s attention so she and Steve could escape the insane hellhole they got themselves stuck in. Steve grumbled, the loud voice of the girl tied up behind him making his head pound harder and he felt like his ears were about to bleed from all of the noise she was making.

“Hey, could you please stop yelling?” Steve almost whispered, but Y/N still heard it clear as day in the small silent room. She tried to turn around to face him but soon remembered that she was strapped to a chair, so she leaned her head on his shoulder instead.

“Steve? Oh my god, hey. Are-are you okay?” Y/n said, feeling a tsunami of relief hit her. For a while, she truly thought he had gone and died on her. Steve chuckled at her and leaned his head on hers to give her a sense of comfort.

“My ears are ringing and I can’t really breathe, I feel like my eyeballs are about to pop out of my skull, but other than that I’m doing pretty good,” Steve mumbles to her. She couldn’t help but giggle, Steve always knew how to make even the worst situations just a bit more bearable with his humour.

“Well, you don’t look it, my friend,” she pokes back at him. He nudges her with his head, his long hair tickling her cheek in the process.

“Geez, that one hurt, L/N,” he says back, trying to keep the girl’s mind off of the current dilemma they’re in for just a bit. He knew that she gets stressed and scared easily, due to her past trauma at the lab. It made him feel good that he could take that away from her. He tried to rip off the tape that was holding his wrists together, but it wouldn’t seem to budge. “Hey, think your mind tricks could help get us out of these chairs?”

Y/N sighed and raised her head, shaking it. “Can’t move things with my mind like El, remember?” She said, and Steve let out a small “oh” and nodded in understanding. Y/N’s powers we’re slightly different than Eleven’s, where El’s powers consisted more of telekinesis- or moving things with her mind, Y/N’s was more focused on telepathy, or mind manipulation. “So unless I can get into their heads and convince them to let us go, there’s not much I can do…” She trails off, wondering if even that would work considering what the officer said earlier.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Steve reassured, leaning his head back onto her shoulder. “Besides, I think that could work. Do you think you could, like, get in there?” Y/N laughed slightly, but still felt nervous.

“I-I don’t know if I want to,” she tried to joke, letting out another dry laugh that sounded more uncomfortable. “But, I’m not sure. They already saw the number. They, um, t-they know who I am, Steve,” Y/N’s voice quivered, but she tried to keep herself calm, not wanting to show Steve how scared she really was.

Steve felt his body stiffen, not wanting to think about what those Russian soldiers might do to her, what they might use her for if they know about her abilities. He felt the palms of his hands start to dampen, and he tried just a little harder to pull himself from the belts that kept his wrists held to the arms of the chair he sat in. He let out an unsteady breath, not sure if his next words would be true, but he continued anyway. “Nothing will happen to you, okay? I promise; I swear on my life. We’re both gonna get out of here, alive, and we’re gonna be okay. I promise they won’t hurt you, they’d have to kill me first before they even touch you.” He said boldly, picking his words carefully, but also just spewing any positive things that came to mind. Y/N smiled at Steve, thankful that he was showing how much he cared for her, but his last sentence did admittingly make her uneasy.

“Thanks, Stevey,” she whispered back, and before they could continue to try and hatch up an escape plan, there was a loud buzzing sound that rang through the room before the Russian soldiers and the alleged ‘doctor’ strolled through the heavy metal door. The comrade made eye contact with Y/N, since she was the one facing the door, and gave her a disgusting smirk that made her squirm in her seat. As he moved around her to see Steve, he brushed his hand over her shoulder, making her retract from the contact immediately.

“I see your little boyfriend has finally decided to wake from his beauty sleep and join us,” he said as he faced Steve, the teenage boy giving him a dirty look in return. The officer chuckled, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. “Good thing you did, little boy, or I might’ve taken your girl from you and used her myself.” Steve felt every muscle in his body tense up at just those words.

“Fuck off,” he spat at the officer. “If you touch a single fucking hair on her body, I swear to god I will-” Steve cut himself off as he saw the drill powered by some kind of blue serum the doctor held, his eyes widened. He looked between the machine and the comrade, who’s smirk grew.

“Try telling the truth this time, yes?” He suggested, his hand reaching up to play with Steve’s hair, twirling it around a gloved finger. “It will make your visit with Dr. Zharkov less painful, for the both of you.” The doctor comes closer to Steve as the machine starts whirring.

“Hey, hey! What do you think you’re doing? AH!” Steve yells as the drill is injected into his neck. Y/N is kicking around in her chair, screaming at the doctor to stop and leave him alone. The Russian officer came up to her and stared at her, a creepy smile on his face as he caressed her cheek, Y/N leaning away from the unwanted touch.

“Don’t worry, little slut,” he said to her, smiling wickedly. “You’re next.” And with that, he slapped her harshly, the glove making a sharp noise against her cheek which echoed around the room as he left, the door locking behind him. She heard Steve’s screaming stop and soon the injection was put into her own neck.

~~~

Y/N’s head rested against Steve’s, trying her hardest not to let her sleep deprivation get the best of her, as it didn’t seem like the best moment to take a quick nap. She put her head back on Steve’s shoulder and nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck, to which he giggled.

“That-that tickles a little,” Steve giggled. Y/N let out a smile and laughed along, doing it a little more before stopping again and closing her eyes. A little rest wouldn’t hurt, right? Luckily, the drugs hadn’t hit her as hard as they did with Steve since she was used to similar types of torture back when she was trained in the lab. Steve claimed he didn’t feel anything either, but she could tell something was definitely wrong with him, and even she herself felt off.

“I mean, I feel fine!” Steve exclaimed, accidentally bonking his head against the back of Y/N’s. “Oop, sorry. But I think these morons messed up the drug!” Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips.

“Haha, yeah, stupid morons can’t even drug us!” She said happily, still laughing as her head lolled on top of Steve’s shoulder. Steve laughed along with her, continuing to mock the Commies.

“Hey morons! Morons! Woah-oh!” He yelled as he continued to laugh, Y/N trying to hold back her own giggles but of course, didn’t succeed.

“There is definitely something wrong with us,” she said with another small giggle and Steve nodded.

“Yup, something’s wrong,” he agreed. Then the door buzzed, indicating that the Russian officer was once again entering the room, accompanied by his doctor friend, who was pulling out very sharp and not very doctor-like tools from his lab coat. Y/N stared at him wide-eyed, watching his movements as the officer went back to face Steve, who was biting his lip to try and keep himself from laughing.

“Let’s try this again, yes?” his voice comes out through his thick accent, and Y/N felt Steve nod slightly. The comrade came closer and looked at the boy dead in the eye. “Who do you work for?” he snarled out and Y/N felt herself holding her breath to try and keep herself from losing it, whether that meant a laughing fit or a mental breakdown, she didn’t quite know yet.

“Scoops. Scoops Ahoy,” Steve replied as he chuckled. Y/N found his comment wildly amusing and started wheezing as she threw her head back and hit Steve’s, but he was also too busy laughing to realize. The Russian looks at the teenage girl who was still giggling and red in the face, thinking of what he might have to do to her.

“How did you find us?” He asked, his eyes not averting from the girl who’s back was facing towards him, but the question was still directed at Steve. The boy tried to keep a straight face as he answered, but still to no avail.

“Oh, totally by accident,” Steve said and Y/N started cackling, kicking her feet as her body fell forward and tears started to form in her eyes. The comrade looks back at the doctor and speaks something in Russian that they couldn’t understand. Then the doctor pulled out a pair of plyers and walked towards the pair, the other one nodding his head towards Steve. “What is that shiny little toy you got there?” Steve laughed as the doctor crouched in front of him and went to grab one of Steve’s fingernails with the tool, to which Steve’s smile finally dropped and he started to scream in protest.

“There was a code! We heard a code!” Y/N said when she heard Steve starting to go crazy. The doctor pulled the plyers away and the comrade made his way to stand in front of Y/N now, glaring at her. When he questioned what code she began to giggle again, and honestly that sound alone made Steve forget about his fingernail almost being pulled off. “You know, 'the silver cat feeds, when blue meets yellow in the west, blah blah blah. You broadcast that dumb shit all over town, and we picked it up on our little toy radio, and we cracked it in a day! A fucking day!” She laughed again as she looked up at the officer, who was snarling down at her.

“Who is we? Who else knows we are here?” He demanded, and Steve turned his head a little to talk, much to Y/N trying to tell him to stop.

“Well, uh, Dustin knows we’re here. Dustin Henderson?” Steve said as he started laughing again and Y/N leaned on his shoulder, still giggling as well as he continued. “Yeah, curly hair, small, kind of like a fro. He’s got great hair.” Steve tried looking back at Y/N and she made sounds of agreement with his descriptions.

“Dustin Henderson? Where is he?” He asked Steve, and Steve smirked at him.

“Oh they’re long gone, you big asshole!” He giggled. “And he’s probably calling Hopper, and Hopper is probably calling the US cavalry. They’re gonna come in here commando-style, guns-a-blazing, and kick your sorry asses back to Russia. You'r4e gonna be two pieces of toast.” And Steve lost it after finishing his statement, leaning forward as he wheezed, Y/N leaning back with him as she did the same. And before the comrade could say anything else, an alarm blasts through the air, just on time.

The Russian comrade jolted out of the room to see what the hell had happened while the doctor stayed to keep a watch on the drugged pair of teenagers. Y/N saw this as a perfect opportunity to try and escape. Steve nudged her, trying to silently tell her to use whatever powers she can to get them out of their current situation.

“Um, excuse me, kind sir?” Y/N caught his attention and giggled. The doctor looked at her confused, she could tell he obviously didn’t understand what she was saying but continued. “You wouldn’t mind helping a poor girl like me out, would you?” She flashed him a charming smile and as soon as she locked their gaze her face went straight and she tried to push whatever was in her system aside to concentrate. The doctor fell into a state of oblivion and Y/N giggled a bit, happy that it was working. “It would be awfully nice of you to let us go.” She said, and with that, he walked slowly towards them and unbuckled the belts.

Y/N was so surprised it actually worked so well that she forgot that she was manipulating someone and he fell out. But before he could make a move to get them back, Steve slipped out of his restraints and hit him with the chair, knocking him unconscious. Y/N giggled and clapped as Steve helped her get out of her own chair. “Gotta say, Harrington, that was the hottest shit I’ve ever seen,” she giggled and so did he. He grabbed her face and squished her cheeks.

“No, YOU’RE the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!” he replied quite loudly and they both laughed. Steve grabbed Y/N’s hand and dragged her towards the door. “Let’s get out of here finally!” He said and the girl squealed in excitement as they began to aimlessly run down the hallway. And as you could’ve probably guessed, that was not the best plan.

As they ran down one of the endlessly long hallway, looking for the storage room elevator, they heard a strong voice come down the other side of the hallway in what was presumably Russian, and the sound of a gun cocking. Y/N and Steve looked back and their eyes blew wide as they saw the giant riffle pointed towards them and two more officers joined his side and did the same thing.

“Oh shit! OH, SHIT!” Steve said as he tugged her hand and tried to get Y/N to run along with her. “Y/N, come on! We seriously got to go! Hey, what are you doing?!” They heard the ringing sound of gunshots fly through the air and it was as if everything was going in slow motion. Steve took Y/N’s hand and dragged her into a hallway going a different direction but it was too late, and Y/N had wedged herself between the bullets and Steve.

Steve caught her as she fell, holding her ribs where the bullets had made contact. He felt almost completely sober as he saw the girl squeezing her eyes shut in pain, groaning. Her breathing was heavy and Steve pulled her into a clear room and locked all the doors, rushing over to her and putting her head on his lap, trying to keep himself from crying.

“Oh god, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he pet her hair. She shook her head, trying to get herself to make words but was still in shock. “No no no no, this wasn’t supposed to happen, oh god, oh shit, I’m sorry I’m so so sorry.” At this point he couldn’t help the water escaping his eyes.

“Steve,” she said as she grabbed him hand. He began to sob as he looked at her and squeezed her hand, using his other hand to push hair away from her face. “Steve, hey, it’s okay.”

“No no it’s not okay! What were you thinking?” He screamed at her, his tears making his vision blurry. “You-you just got shot! You were shot! Please, you can’t die on me, not here.” he continued to ramble so much that he was completely distracted to the lack of blood on the floor.

“Steve, listen to me,” she said a bit more sternly. But Steve just shook his head.

“No, Y/N, you have to listen, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you as long as I was alive, so I’m gonna make sure we get out. Just please don’t die, Y/N stay with me-”

“Steve!” She shouted as she reached up and grabbed his face. He opened his eyes and wiped his tears to meet her gaze. She looked at him with her eyebrows furrowed and laughed at him, pushing his hair from his face. He then slowly pushed his gaze to her abdomen, which seemed to be fine, as if nothing happened. She saw his gaze shift and lifted her shirt to show where the bullets had hit her had only left a couple of bruises.

Steve gasped as he looked between the purple marks to her beautiful Y/E/C eyes, and smiled, still feeling shocked. “Holy fuck. You-you’re, like, you’re fucking bulletproof! Holy shit!” He smiled at her and she smiled back, nodding excitedly. He felt his laugh die down as he continued to stare at her, a small smile still prominent on his face. “I love you, you know that?”

Y/N was taken aback by his words but smiled back sweetly once she processed the situation and kissed his cheek, pressing her forehead against his. “I sorta love you too,” she whispered. The pair pulled back to look at each other again and leaned forward, their lips brushing against one another. But before they could connect, yelling and gunshots were heard from just outside and they shared looks.

“Maybe we should save this for later and get out of here first,” Steve suggested and Y/N nodded, taking a hand he offered to her as they both got up.

“Yup, good plan,” she agreed and they unlocked the door and prepped themselves to start running. But before they went out, Y/N grabbed Steve’s face and quickly pecked him on the lips. “Just for good luck.” Steve swore he never smiled wider as she winked at him and opened the door for them to escape.

~~~

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