#and they’re gonna start me on the other meds today (gotta keep a close eye in case of reactions)

[thebookreader12345]

Shouting Match

Pairing: Sean Roman x Halstead! reader

Summary: Y/N and Sean were in what seemed like the perfect relationship, but when a close friend gets hurt, the two realize there were many faults between them and an argument ensues

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of alcohol and gunshot wounds

Word Count: 1,777 Words

"Jay, for the last time, I'm not gonna break up with Sean just because you don't like him," I tell my older brother.

"Why not, Y/N? I'd say that's a pretty good reason," Jay retorted as he followed me out to my car.

We had just spent the past 2 hours hanging out at Molly's so that we could catch up because it had been a while since we'd spent time together. But of course, as soon as the topic of relationships came up, a debate started that I had not wanted to get into.

"Look, Jay. I get that he's got beef with Intelligence, and they're practically your second family, but Sean's a really great guy. And once you get over whatever the hell has you fixated on him being an asshole, you'll see that. Now, I've got an early shift at Med tomorrow, and if I'm late, Will is gonna have my head. I'll talk to you tomorrow," I say before climbing into my car.

The ride to the apartment was pretty short, 5 minutes tops, and I was just happy to be home. I climbed out of my car and entered the complex, taking the stairs to get to the second floor of the building. From there, it was only a matter of seconds before I got to my door and unlocked it.

"Hey," Sean greeted from the couch as I came through the door. It wasn't weird for Sean to be in my apartment when I got home. Occasionally he'd come over so we could spend a bit of time together before our next shifts.

"Hey," I return and set my things down before joining him on the couch. I took a seat on his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck, placing a much needed kiss on his lips.

"How was work?" Sean asked and encircled my waist with his arms.

"You know, giving meds, checking in on patients, the usual," I reply, describing the everyday routine of my job as an ED Nurse at Chicago Med. "And then I got to spend some time with Jay at Molly's. It's always nice hanging out with him since I don't see him as often as Will. But what about you? How was patrol?"

"Fine. The only thing that happened was an attempted robbery, and we caught the guy," Sean responded. "Speaking of work, my partner's taking a day off tomorrow, so I'm gonna be partnered with Kim for the day."

I had no problem with Kim. Quite the opposite, actually. She was my best friend. However, she was also Sean's ex, so sometimes it made things weird between us. She assured me when Sean and I started dating that she was okay with it, and I believed that, but whenever the three of us were together, there was a bit of awkwardness in the room. We always got past it though, and Sean and Kim continued to be friends.

"All right. Keep each other safe, please," I plead and peck his lips before climbing off of his lap. "I've got an early shift tomorrow, so I'm gonna head to bed."

"Goodnight," Sean called after me. I ditched the clothes I was wearing, throwing them in the hamper with one toss. After I put on some pajamas, I climbed into bed and closed my eyes. Minutes later, I was fast asleep.

............................................

"Y/N, that's your second cup of coffee this morning," Maggie pointed out as she joined me at the nurses' station.

"Yeah. And...?" I trailed off, not seeing the problem.

"Late night?" Maggie questioned.

I shook my head. "No, actually. I made Jay promise not to keep me at Molly's past 10, and he stayed true to that. Today I'm just enjoying my caffeine." Just then, Maggie's pager beeped, and when she glanced down at it, she frowned.

"Incoming! Choi, you're up!" Maggie yelled into the ED. Ethan was the doctor I worked with the most, and I had no problem with it. We had grown to be close friends, and we worked quite well together. So, whenever it was his turn to accept an incoming trauma, I always followed to help him out. I thought today would be the same, but that all changed when the gurney was wheeled through the ambulance bay doors.

"Kim Burgess, late 20s, gunshot wound to the neck. Weak pulse. We intubated in the field," Courtney, the paramedic, informed us. My whole world seemed to stop as I watched my best friend get wheeled past me. And seeing her unconscious made things 100% worse.

"Y/N, you coming?" Ethan quizzed as he led the gurney into the nearest trauma room.

"I uh... Mags, c-can you...?" I stammer out, not even needing to finish my sentence for Maggie to understand what I was asking.

"I've got this," Maggie assured me and followed Ethan into the trauma room. Seconds after Kim was wheeled in, Sean entered the ED, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.

"Y/N!" Sean shouted and joined me by the nurses' station. "How's Kim doing?"

"I don't know," I confess and glance towards the trauma room she was situated in. "I make it a rule to not work on anyone I'm close with. What the hell happened? You guys were just supposed to be on a routine patrol."

"Intelligence called us up," Sean answered. "We were working a drug case and we ended up having to chase the guy down an alleyway."

"That's not what I'm talking about. You promised you'd keep Kim safe. You promised, Sean. So where were you when she was being shot at?" I implore harshly.

"I was taking cover like I was supposed to! We didn't have an eye so I ducked down behind a dumpster. What, you think this was my fault?" Sean asked.

"You're her partner, Sean. It's your job to protect her. Yet here she is with a bullet buried in her neck," I return.

"You're acting like I told her to make a move," Sean countered. "She put her own life in danger. I had nothing to do with that."

I scoffed. "You had everything to do with it."

"I don't think we should be having this argument here," Sean whispered.

"Well I think we should," I retort.

"Y/N," Sean started.

"Don't 'Y/N' me," I seethe. By now, the whole ED was staring at us, but I didn't care right now. "My best friend is dying because of you!"

"If it was me in there instead of Kim, would you be yelling at her?" Sean posed. "Cause I think you'd be trying to reassure her that none of it was her fault. So, what? Kim takes priority over me, your boyfriend?"

"At the moment, yeah," I reply and cross my arms over my chest.

"Just at the moment? I think she always has," Sean accused. "And if that doesn't speak to how our relationship is, then I don't know what does."

"What are you trying to say?" I ask.

"I'm not trying to say anything. I'm telling you that I'm through with this. I'm through with you," Sean emphasized. "We're done." As Sean stalked off back towards the lobby, everything he said really hit me.

We were done.

"Y/N? You okay?" Adam questioned once he noticed that I had practically froze in the middle of the ED.

"Excuse me," I murmur and push past him politely. My body was begging me for some fresh air to help calm myself down, so I made my way out of the ED, but that involved going through the lobby where Sean and the rest of the 21st district was waiting. I hoped that I wouldn't catch anyone's attention, but I should've known better.

"Y/N," Jay said and stood up when he saw me. However, instead of stopping to talk to him, I made a beeline straight for the exit. The automatic doors opened when I stepped near them, allowing a nice breeze to hit my face. My feet carried me to the front of the hospital where I took a seat against the side of the building and placed my head in my hands. That's when the tears began to flow, but I didn't stop them. Minutes later, I was joined by Jay, who took a seat next to me. For a few seconds, we sat in silence, but then Jay spoke up. "Natalie told me what happened."

"I don't want to talk about it," I mutter without removing my head from my arms.

"Well, as family, we're required to," Jay declared. "I told you Roman was an ass."

I laughed softly and picked my head up, resting it against the wall behind me. "I now see why you thought that. So everyone in the ED heard?"

Jay nodded. "Yeah. But don't worry. I'm sure they're all thinking the same thing as I am. Want me to have a talk with Roman?"

I shook my head. "No, but thank you for offering. I uh, I need to get back inside. We're low on nurses today. I'll talk to you later, Jay."

Jay's POV

A few hours later, Kim was awake and doing well, and I was just glad that she would be making a full recovery. As Adam and I were exiting her room, we just so happened to bump into Sean Roman, the girl who just, not even hours prior, broke my little sister's heart.

"Hey, guys," Sean greeted. "Is she awake?""

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Are you for real?"

Sean frowned. "What?"

"You broke up with my sister, that's what. Get the hell out of here!" I demand.

"But-"

Adam cut Sean off. "Kim doesn't want to talk to you. Not after what happened between you and Y/N. And I'd advise you follow Jay's orders."

Sean hesitated, but sighed. "Fine." He then walked off, leaving Adam and I standing alone in front of Kim's hospital room.

"All right man, I'm gonna head out. I promised Y/N that Will and I would come over after her shift, which is ending in like 20 minutes, so I've gotta pick up some pizza and beers."

"Okay. I'm gonna stay and keep Kim company. Have a good night," Adam spoke.

"Yeah man. You too," I return. And with that, I left the hospital to go spend some much needed quality time with my sister. Y/N would probably be hurting for a few days, but Will and I agreed that we'd be there for her every step of the way because that's what big brothers were for.

______________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @virtualreader @carnationworld​ @caitsymichelle13​ @dreamingmanip @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @nevertoofarfromivar @anotherfan07 @giagma @mrspeacem1nusone​ @i-like-sparkly-things​

[allywritesforfun]

Hello!! I hope you’re eating/drinking well, getting enough sleep, and taking your medication (if that’s something you need :D !!) Idk if you write for c!Eret, but if you do could I request a thing for:

C!eret with a gn or male reader, who’s his knight, and they’re both like madly in love but can’t show it to the public! And the knight maybe possibly goes to war for Eret !! :) Please and thank you! <333

ooh thank you for the med reminder! I loveeee writing for c!eret and I dont get a chance often. thank you for the request!

{My Knight} c!Eret x Male!Reader

pronouns: he/him

word count: 1368

regular masterlist

taglist

"My doors will open soon," Eret whispered into your ear. "You know we don't have a good reason for you being at the castle overnight. You must go before the others start to wake."

"Just a couple more minutes," You groaned into his chest. "We had such a good night."

Eret gently rubbed the back of your hair, "You have to go back and get ready for morning roll call. You know Punz will call you out if you're late."

You rolled your eyes, "Fine, fine. I'll get up."

You pecked Eret's lips and patted his side, pushing off of his mass and swinging your legs over the bed, "You gotta get a bigger bed for us."

"You want more space?" Eret asked. "I'm not getting a bigger bed just for you to come snuggle up to my side and leave half the bed empty."

"Who can go wrong with more space?" You urged.

Eret stood up and came up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, "I thought I told you that you need to go before the others wake up. That's an order."

"Ooh..." You teased, "An order. I'll be right on it, my King."

"Mhm, better be," Eret chuckled through placing a kiss on your cheek. "I'll see you in twenty."

You sadly left, taking the underground tunnels that Eret had built from his room to your house for secrecy. The hell that would arise from people finding out that you two were madly in love. You have gotten used to the tunnel and could probably make your way through it with your eyes closed. The tunnel had many different paths branching from it, most of them dead ends or leading to another path. The more paths, the less likely people are to take the right path to your house.

You got ready and put on your uniform, making sure that it had no wrinkles. Eret liked his boyfriend to be neatly dressed. It was hard for him to resist the urge to come fix your jacket and you both knew that it was hard to keep your hands off of each other when you're that close.

You were the second to arrive at the castle, Punz of course being the first. The rest flowed in, except for George, of course, who was always late.

Eret sat slyly on his throne, one leg bent and the other hanging off the side. He knew how hot you found that position, just the look of clear power and intimidation, "Everyone who is expected to be here is... that's nice. Nothing too special today, just some regular paroles, you know the drill. L'manberg has not lost their spirit yet so keep a close listen to traveling words. Punz, I think you can lead the border patrols."

"Me?" Punz repeated, "Your majesty, I am always in the castle with you in case of a break in. Who else is going to protect you? I am your best knight here."

"Take a break today, Punz," Eret waved him away. "y/n has today under control. Just make sure you're back by sundown."

"y/n?" Punz questioned. "He can barely do parole without getting distracted by flowers and bees! How is he gonna stay focused enough to keep guard?"

"My Knight will do a great job," He assured him. "I gave you an order didn't I? I know I pay you to listen to me...unless you want a pay cut?"

Punz dipped his head down, "No, Your Majesty, no pay cut necessary. I will have the troops back here by sundown with the report."

You stayed in your spot, arms crossed behind you until Punz and the rest of the knights left. Once you were sure they weren't coming back, you made your way to Eret.

"My Knight?" You asked him. "That's a new title."

He blushed, patting his lap, "Maybe I slipped up a little bit, but Punz seemed too upset to notice."

"Yeah, what was that about anyways? You always send me out."

Eret took off his glasses, allowing you to see his white eyes, "I just wanted a chill day with my boyfriend? Is that too much to ask for?"

You shook your head, cupping his cheek with your hand. You loved seeing his eyes, I mean, you got to see them every night but it still gave you butterflies knowing that you were the only one who got to see them, "I guess that isn't too much. Wanna go out to the lookout tower? I can add a few blocks, that way you can keep this silly pair of glasses off."

Eret smiled at you, "That sounds like a date." He leaned in to kiss you, but right as your lips were about to connect, Punz came rushing in.

"King Er-"

Eret pushed you off of him. You landed in front of the ground with an "umph". You tried to gather yourself, but it was clear by your red face and mangled jacket that something wasn't right here. Punz stared at you two, eyes bouncing back and forth. You refused to look at Eret, maybe Punz was dumb enough to not connect the dots.

"There is a..." Punz was at a loss for words.

"I was polishing his crown." "He was giving me a haircut?"

You and Eret's in sync attempt to make an excuse of why one of the King's knights was in his lap was a huge failure and all got mushed together. You looked back at Eret, at some point he got his glasses back on.

"What is it, Punz?" He demanded.

"Technoblade was seen in the Nether farming Withers...There are talks that he's gonna start a war," Punz explained, still cloudy-brained from what he just saw.

Eret stood up from his throne, "We keep low. Send just one person through and keep the rest by the Greater SMP Portal. He gets captured the second he comes through that portal."

"I'll go through!" You offered.

"Absolutely not!" Eret snapped. "Technoblade will kill anyone he notices spying on him. Send HBomb in."

"If Technoblade is coming for anyone in The Greater SMP, it's you. I'm gonna go in there and stop it from the source," You argued. "Let me protect you for once. It's my duty."

"If he wants to risk his life, then let him," Punz urged. "The more time we argue, the more Withers he gets."

You locked eyes with Eret, "I'm only gonna fight him if I have to. If he says anything about you, or the SMP, he's going down. I could care less about if he's farming Wither's for L'Manberg."

Eret stared back at you in silence, "Take my armor and an extra shield. You come back the second you know you can't handle it."

"Your armor?" Punz asked. "Since when did a knight get to wear the King's armor?"

"When I say so," Eret snapped back at him. "Now go and tell the other's the plan."

Punz bowed and turned away, leading himself out. Before he made it through the doors, Eret stopped him, "Punz!"

"Yes sir?"

"What you saw today, you didn't. You keep your mouth shut otherwise you're getting punished."

"How much?" Punz replied.

"Stack of Gold blocks. Paid in full, you can take them out of the Treasury."

"A stack of Gold blocks just to not tell anyone about your little romance?" Punz chuckled. "You got it, deal."

Finally alone, Eret led you to his armor stand, "Listen y/n, you will lose to a fight with Technoblade. I'm giving you this armor because I know you're stubborn and you won't back down right away. This doesn't have fire resistance, so don't you dare bridge over lava or get too close to the edge. Got it?"

"Got it," You nodded, slipping on his armor.

Eret pressed his forehead against yours, "Be back soon. I love you."

"I love you too," You pressed your lips to his, allowing him to take the lead. Even though you knew it wasn't your last goodbye, he still kissed you like it was.

You pulled away, "We're wasting time. I have to go."

"Come back, my Knight!"

[quietlyimplode]

@whumptober2020 - Day 21- I Don’t Feel So Well

Day 1 - Waking Up Restrained // Day 2 - Kidnapped // Day 3 - Manhandled // Day 4 - Caged// Day 5 - Rescue // Day 6 - No More // Day 7 - Support // Day 8 - Isolation // Day 9 - Take Me Instead // Day 10 - Blood Loss/Trail of Blood // Day 11 - Psych 101 // Day 12 - Broken Down // Day 13 - Oxygen Mask // Day 14 - Alternative Prompt - Comfort // Day 15 - Into The Unknown // Day 16 - A Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day // Day 17 - Wrongfully Accused // Day 18 - Paranoia // Day 19- Survivors Guilt // Day 20 - Lost // Day 21 - I dont feel so well // Day 22- Withdrawal

“She should be at least in the med bay, or even the hospital?” Bruce comments.

——-

The concussion is kicking her ass. Not even a little bit. It doesn’t help that her throat, her head, her neck are all compromised. She tries to hide it but yesterday she had a seizure. So her brain is mushy already. Things aren’t coming out coherently. Confusion. That’s a good word. She reminds herself what’s happened. Rubs her fingers over her bandaged wrists.

Yesterday, she got captured and rescued.

Today she’s coping, surviving hour by hour.

Tells herself again. Repeats it so it’s real.

Staying awake and conscious is the first hurdle. It’s hard.

.

Her head feels like a bowling ball. Heavy. Lifting it feels monumental. Even the most basic of tasks feels like climbing a mountain.

She’s back in her room at her own insistence. Couldn’t stand the others hovering. Asked them to leave. They had but the two wonder twins had stayed. Tony and Clint had obviously been tag teaming watching her, something she perhaps needed but was never going to admit.

She felt better than yesterday though, and that was something. The tremors had lessened, being tasered over and over was nothing new. It had happened before. But the collar. She blanches thinking about it. Stands and goes to look in the mirror.

Stays there, staring at the bruising, the colours, the cuts.

It’s where Tony finds her.

“Nat?” He says gently.

She doesn’t respond. He doesn’t think she’s there. But she’s standing.

“Nat?” He calls again, he touches her arm softly.

She turns to look at him, recognises safety in his touch and voice. “I don’t think I feel so good,” she mutters before throwing up all over the floor, falling to her knees.

She retches again.

Tony quickly messaged Bruce to come. He’s glad they’re all still kind of on high alert because Bruce is there within the minute.

“Help her lie down.” He suggests

“Orthostatic hypotension,” he follows up by way of explanation. “You stand up, blood pressure goes down.”

He tries to rouse her, “Natasha? Natasha can you hear me?” He rubs on her chest, forgetting. Stopping when she cries out in pain, grabbing his hand to stop the movement.

“When’d you last drink something?”

He looks to Tony, who shrugs.

“Have you had anything at all today?” He directs at her.

She doesn’t answer. He suspects, she hasn’t had anything, not since being in the makeshift hospital.

“Tony, go and get her a drink, there’s hydrolyte in the kitchen , can you mix it in?” Tony sets off and Bruce is left to help Natasha to sit in her bed.

“Gotta keep those fluids up, Nat. There’s nothing of you anyway, loss of blood, dehydration. Not so fun on an already strained body.”

Natasha blanches and nods.

“Want a bucket?” He asks, nodding towards her kitchen.

She looks miserably at him. Nods.

He gets up to get it, and she all but flops onto the pillows. He passes her the small bucket, and she curls around it.

Tony returns with the hydrolyte water, and takes in the scene, handing it to Bruce to navigate with Natasha. Bruce gently replaces the bucket with the drink bottle.

“Just a sip,” he coaxed.

Natasha screws her face up, and takes a sip, swallows some and spits the rest into the bucket Bruce is holding.

“Fuck.” She said with a groan.

“Feeling dizzy? Nauseous?” Bruce questions.

“Headache.” Natasha deadpans.

She rests her head back.

Bruce tells Friday to dull all the lights just as Clint walks in to find Tony, Bruce and Natasha all sitting on the bed. He almost gags when he smells the vomit, and leaves going to get some cleaning supplies from his room; knowing exactly where they are.

“You can go,” Natasha directs to Bruce. “You too,” she ducks her head at Tony.

Closes her eyes. Conversation over.

Bruce moves away from Natasha’s bedside, stands at the door and motions for Tony to come over.

“She should be at least in the med bay, or even the hospital?” Bruce comments.

Tony snorts. “You try telling her that. This is the best I can do, with Friday looking in on her..” Clint approaches, joining the duo in conversation.

“Clint..”

“Don’t start Bruce, I know exactly what you’re gonna say. And I know. Just leave it.” Clint stops and thinks for a minute.

“Has Cho left?” He asks Tony.

Nodding, Tony looks over to the Natasha shaped ball. “Yeah, she said that that concussion is gonna be shit, and on top of compromised ribs, a bruised throat, cuts littering her body and the remnants of tasering, she’s got a rough couple of days. Nothing life threatening but also not much to be done about any of it, just gotta ride it out.”

“Ok. Ok.” Bruce nods. “I’m on call. But for the record, this is not my favourite plan.”

Clint nods. “Thanks.”

Heads inside the room and gets to cleaning.

——-

This is your reminder kids, go drink some water.

[champagne-bucky]

Prescription For... (Just a Touch)

Summary: Steve learns the basics.

Warnings: pre-serum Steve x reader, crude language, masturbation (male and female), dirty thoughts

Notes: Soooo this is kinda late (by like a month or two) but this is kinda my thank you for 1,000 on Tumblr!!! Thank you all so so so much for your support and love towards me and my writings!! Enjoy!!

After Bucky’s interesting visit with Old Man Rogers, he had to go back for more. He honestly did not believe a word his older best friend spoke to him. Was he going senile? Maybe he was lying? Or, maybe he was telling the truth…

“Back for more?” The older gentleman chuckled at the impromptu visit from his childhood friend.

“I just gotta know, are you pulling my leg? Because if you are that was a pretty fucking good gag, Steve,” no matter how many times Steve told Bucky about her, Bucky really thought the old captain was lying to him.

“I assure you, it was all real,” Steve smirked at Bucky and Bucky was a little squeamish at that.

“So, then what else happened between you and her? Did you visit her while you returned the stone? Did you ever keep in touch with her like you did with Peggy? C’mon Steve don’t leave me hanging,” Steve chuckled at his friend.

“All in due time, Buck. Head home now, I’ve gotta take my meds and head to bed,” Bucky gave Steve a hug and pat on the back.

“I’ll be back,” Bucky called out.

“You always do,” Steve responded.

—

Later that night, Steve laid in his bed and dreamed of his woman. The woman before the shield, before the title, before his name. He dreamed of her.

*flashback*

“So, Rogers, them boys been giving you trouble for a while now, huh?” She sat across from the nervous young man while sipping on her drink.

“Just the usual stuff. This always happens to me, ya know,” he responds as he plays with the collar of his shirt.

“You don’t listen to those boys. All they are is scared little boys who got no business picking on a guy like you,” Steve scoffed at that.

“Then why do they always come after me?”

“Depends, your pal Bucky out of town or something?” It did dawn on Steve that whenever Bucky wasn’t around he did get picked on a lot more.

“I don’t like the way they spoke to you today. Sayin’ that you and your momma are,” she shuddered in disgust, “are like that. I find it charming that a man can be that close with his momma,” Steve blushed at that. All his life people would tease and taunt him for being a momma’s boy. Bucky was the same with his mother. However, when there’s a guy as big and buff as he is the guys don’t pick on you as much.

“They’re probably just jealous cause they can’t find any lady around her to screw around with. Probably touch their you know what’s to a peach and imagine a lady attached,” Steve choked on his drink. He never heard a woman speak such vulgarity.

“What?” She looked at him curiously.

“Ya know,” she started doing the motion of a closed fist going up and down.

Steve furrowed his brows in confusion. What was she doing?

“Oh, Oh my gosh! You’ve never…” she trailed off as she looked at Steve’s expression. Poor Steve started to blush out of embarrassment.

“No, no, it’s nothing to be ashamed about. Didn’t you ever learn what that was,” she tried her best to not be crude, but she knew it wasn’t gonna work.

“I’m not following,” poor boy.

“Steve,” she let out a little chuckle, “I’m talking about masterbating. You’ve never heard about that before?” Steve choked back his shocked expression as she whispered the last part.

Of courses he’s heard of that word before. He remembers how his momma sat him down one day and told him that good boys don’t do dirty things like touch their privates. She scarred poor Steve at such a young age about the evils of self pleasure.

“I-I have, I just thought I w-wasn’t supposed to d-do it,” Steve was entirely red at this point.

“Oh, Stevie. My poor poor boy you’re mistaken’,” she shook her head and placed a hand over his. “There’s nothing wrong with touching yourself,” she had confidence that Steve had never seen before, not even in Bucky. “It’s a good thing, a really good thing. It’ll prepare you for later,” she winked as Steve’s eyes blew as wide as the moon.

He forgot about the offer she had made. Oh god, just knowing that made him feel ashamed of himself, he didn’t know anything about masterbating let alone sex. He’s a fraud!

“H-How do I-I do it,” he was looking everywhere except her face.

She smirked and began to tell him the rundown. Steve was baffled by how all this worked. He didn’t know how his mother would feel about this if she ever caught him. Oh god, what if she caught him, Steve thought.

“Listen, just try it, there’s no need to rush or overthink it. However in the event that you do do it,” she smirked and played with the hair at the nape of his neck, “let me know every little detail,” she winked and gave Steve a kiss on the cheek as she left the little diner they were in.

-

Steve had been nervous all throughout the night when he returned home. Every time his mother asked him a question he would start to get nervous. Thinking that he was starting to come down with something, she abruptly sent him to bed, alone with his thoughts.

Now flash forward to Steve in his room, laid out on his bed, stripped down to nothing but a pair of boxers and his pale little chest heaving up and down in the moonlight. He stared up at the ceiling as he thought. What should turn him on? He laid there for what felt like hours, only it was mere minutes, before his mind wandered back to her.

Did she do this too? Did she lay down in her bed every night and do dirty things to make her feel better? Did she tug her nightgown up to her hips and play down there until she felt euphoric? Would she not wear her undergarments to bed, maybe discard them so they wouldn't feel so dirty?

Oh, so this is how you start, huh? Steve felt himself get harder at the thought of her doing that. Her sweet little nightgown resting above her belly button, undergarments taken neatly off her heating body as her sweet little center starts to slick. She’s featherlight with her touches, she hisses when she applies pressure to her sweet and sensitive breasts.

Quiet moans escape past her beautiful lips as she rubs her thighs together for some relief. That’s not enough to quench the increasingly burning fire. Her one hand leaves its place, pulling and pinching the dusty pink nipple that is way past its usual sensitivity limit.

It’s wet down there, so wet. She feels a light sheen of sweat gloss over her perfect skin. Her fingers make hasty work as she plays, pulls, and rubs the sensitive little nub. Her moans start to get too loud, she has to put her other hand over her mouth to silence them. She fails quickly as she slips a finger in her center, then two. It’s mind blowing, the sweet and slick core pulsing at every rapid movement. No room for teasing tonight, she has to be quick before anyone hears her.

Three fingers, she’s never done this before. It feels so good. Her back arches off the bed ever so slightly out of pleasure. She’s going faster now, so fast she hears little noises coming from down there. It’s so hot. So hot that she can’t take the amount of pleasure anymore. She lets go and it's an amazing feeling. Her bed sheets are soaked as well as her thighs. She’s heavy breathing now as she scrambles to get up.

Her legs are shaking with every movement as she strips her sheets and wipes herself down. The air feels nice and cool against her burning skin. She needed this tonight and she’s glad it happened.

Finally, she changes her sheet and lays back in bed. All cool and rested thinking about the skinny boy who visits her father's pharmacy every day.

-

Steve is sitting up now, hand around his painfully aching cock. He’s pumping up and down so fast. The precum spilling out the top was enough to coat his big shaft. He’s holding back his grunts with clenched teeth.

It feels good, it’s so good that he needs to stop himself a few times so the pleasure doesn’t end early. He’s starting to make sweet sounds on his glistening member too. His other hand is making a tight grip on the edge of his mattress. He can’t hold on for long, he’s gotta do it.

He lets go. The mess ends up on his chest and dribbles down his abdomen. He’s coated in his own sheen of sweat and he is breathless.

Steve couldn't believe what had just happened. He feels a mix of shame, but not as much as he feels the missing fulfillment of pleasure. This sweet delicacy should’ve been a part of his life way earlier. Screw it, he wants to do it a second time, third time, so many times, but he knows he can’t. He needs some sleep since this activity drained him of all his energy.

He sleeps like a baby for the first time in years. He’s cooled down and feels less stressed. Steve can’t wait to do it again.

-

Her phone rings a numerous number of times. Her mother yells for her to come near as she says a young gentleman is asking for her. She trudges towards the phone and smirks as she hears her soon to be lover's voice telling her that the deed has been done.

“So you ready to learn more, Rogers?”

[iron--spider]

there’s something wrong

Peter thought he would be happy, after he took the Goblin down. 

 It’s been a long time coming. Almost a year trying to figure out who the hell he was, then finding out and dealing with that shit, because who the hell can target Norman Osborn and get away with it? Tony helped, but Peter doesn’t like bothering him with stuff like this after everything he’s been through. He’s been through enough, and he doesn’t need Peter bringing more problems to his door. He brought him back to life, he saved the world, that—that should be enough. More than enough. Beyond enough.

 The battle was five days ago, and Norman, being who he is, threw everything he had at Peter. They were at his Hell’s Kitchen power plant, and Peter could barely breathe, there was so much smoke from the overloaded stacks, and he was sure Norman was trying to blow them both up, end it in a fiery blaze with Spider-Man’s corpse emblazoned on the front page of the Bugle. 

 But, despite the damage to the suit, despite the massive concussion and broken arm they had to reset that night at the facility, Peter finished it. His eyes were burning and his mask was destroyed and Norman knew who he was, but he finished it. 

 But Peter isn’t happy.

 The doctors said Norman might not wake up again. That set Tony’s mind at ease, knowing Peter’s identity was locked inside his decaying mind, but it made Peter’s guilt flare up like the fire did all around the two of them in the otherwise darkness of that night. He hates that he can’t help these people. He hates that they hate him. That they’ll never allow themselves to come back from what they’ve turned towards.

 He thought it was that making him sick, at first. The guilt. 

 “What’s wrong?” Ned asks, from beside him on Peter’s bedroom floor. “Do you miss your girlfriend? I can’t believe you have a girlfriend. I can’t believe it’s Michelle.”

 “Nothing’s wrong,” Peter snaps. He tries to focus on his paper, but his hand feels like it can barely support the fucking pencil. “Leave me alone, I’m trying to do this.”

 “Peter…”

 “Ned,” Peter says. He sighs, and turns over, laying on his back. He drops the pencil and covers his face with his hands. “Just stop, please.”

 “There’s something wrong with you,” Ned says. Peter feels him reach over and pat his head. “I know you’ve been through a lot lately. But you’re being snappy.”

 “I’m fine,” Peter says, voice muffled. 

 “Maybe you should ask for an extension on this paper?” Ned asks.

 “And what would my excuse be?” Peter asks. “Can’t tell him I almost just died fighting the Green Goblin, Ned.” Almost died. He’s exaggerating, but sometimes it feels that way.

 “Could tell him you’re sick,” Ned says.

 “Jeffords won’t care,” Peter says. “And anyways, I’m not.” He feels like his whole face is numb, and he sighs. He’s stressing himself out too much. “I gotta eat something. I have a bad taste in my mouth.” He twists around, pressing his hands to the carpet as he pulls himself to his feet. He hasn’t done much patrolling since the Goblin fight, only a couple nights here and there, but he feels like his muscles are crying out for him to take a big break. 

 “You just ate!” Ned yells after him, as Peter stumbles into the living room.

 “Stop judging me!” Peter yells back. His mouth tastes like blood, but he’s definitely not gonna tell Ned that. There’s probably something wrong with his gums or something. Maybe he brushed too hard...this morning. Or something.

 He sighs, and looks for chocolate, already planning on making tonight an early night.

 “Just bring me something too!” Ned says.

 ~

 MJ: Are you still feeling bad?

 PETER: I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise

 MJ: literally cannot believe you’re lying to me

MJ: you know I see through your lies we’ve dealt with me seeing through your lies

 PETER: love that you’re concerned :)

 MJ: that’s kinda part of my job description now, isn’t it?

 PETER: i’m fine totally fine completely fine

 ~

 Two days later, it’s…

 Has it only been two days?

 Jesus, Peter doesn’t know.

 He can’t think.

 Something’s wrong, but he doesn’t know what the hell it could be. He hasn’t been out anywhere, but his mind questions that, because he can’t remember. He can’t remember the last time he went out patrolling, what the hell happened when he did. He can’t remember shit. 

 His whole face feels frozen, and school is a complete and utter lost cause. He barely hears Ned when he tries to get his attention, and he doesn’t eat anything at lunch. MJ runs her hands up and down his back and it feels good but he can barely concentrate on it. 

 He shouldn’t be able to get sick anymore. He rarely does, now that he’s enhanced, and if he does it goes away within a day, at the latest.

 Peter feels like Ned is talking to him one moment and then the next, he’s in the back of Happy’s car. He’s cutting in and out.

 He leans down, bracing his elbows on his knees, and he feels like he’s shaking. He doesn’t know if he actually is. He feels like he’s deep within his body, small and broken and sad, watching as he falls apart. 

 Is this his guilt? Tearing him up? For Norman Osborn? It wasn’t this bad when Ben died. It wasn’t this bad when he almost lost Tony. Now he’s feeling guilt about his guilt and there’s a certain kind of sadness draping over him that he hasn’t seen the likes of before. It’s heavy and stifling and feels out of place, like it doesn’t belong to him.

 He blinks and rubs at his eyes.

 “Are you even hearing me?” Happy asks. “What the hell is going on? I’ve never seen you this out of it before. Well, on a normal day. And that’s assuming today is a normal day.”

 Maybe Peter has to accept that something is going on. But what the fuck would be going on? He hasn’t done anything of worth since the fight—

 —but he can’t remember.

 And is that the problem? The fact that he can’t remember? Or is the problem that he did do something? And he can’t remember it?

 His head feels like sludge. He presses his hands to his face and it feels like he doesn’t have a face anymore. Or hands. He shakes his head and his stomach turns. 

 “Okay, Peter, you need to tell me what’s happening, because if I drag you into the facility acting like this with no warnings for Tony—”

 “There’s something wrong,” Peter mutters, and just talking makes him feel like he’s gonna puke.

 Next thing he knows they’re not driving anymore, and Tony is there, peeling him out of the car. They’re at the facility but he doesn’t remember arriving, doesn’t remember half of the ride. Peter sighs, and can barely stay on his feet once he’s on solid ground, and Tony gets a good hold around his waist.

 “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Tony says, close to Peter’s ear. “Jesus, he’s pale, Hap.”

 “Something’s wrong,” Peter whispers. He tries to think back, tries to measure how this played out and where it started, but his brain pulls up blue screens, because he fucked up, because he’s been ignoring how he’s been feeling and how he’s been deteriorating each day—and what the hell did he do? What did he do, what was his mistake? Where did he make it?

 Tony groans but he bends a little and picks Peter up—he’s got the iron arm now, so it’s probably easier—and Peter squeezes his eyes shut tight, turning his face into Tony’s shoulder as he rushes him into the facility. He doesn’t even have the energy to make a joke about being carried like a baby.

 “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Tony asks, gently. “Tell me what hurts. And what happened.”

 “I don’t—know what happened,” Peter whispers, his own voice rattling in his head like metal clanging down a well. “Mouth tastes like blood. Uh. Muscles weak. Hurts to breathe. Bad mood, uh, feel sick. Sad. Nervous. Been getting worse, day by day, but I’ve been—ignoring.” He sighs, hates how it sounds. “I’m sorry.”

 “No sorry,” Tony says. “Just hold on. I’ve got an idea of what might be going on and if it’s that we gotta get on it stat.” Peter feels the terrain change under Tony’s feet, and he knows they’re getting closer to the side door. “Happy, call the Raft’s people and find out if Osborn is sick, please.”

 “Got it,” Happy says.

 Peter squeezes his eyes shut tighter and one of his arms flops down. He’s just exhausted. “Sorry I ignored it,” he whispers. “I wasn’t. I wasn’t sure what—”

 “Don’t worry,” Tony whispers. 

 But he sounds worried.

 ~

 They get Peter into the med bay and he wouldn’t exactly call what he’s doing blacking out, but more like stepping back. He retreats further into his head and everything becomes muted, because there’s so much going on and people running around everywhere and a fleet of doctors surrounding him and hooking him up to shit and his head hurts the more he pays attention. His senses are off. Loud then nothing. Everything out of whack.

 Peter keeps his eyes closed.

 “Osborn was trying to poison the both of them,” Happy’s voice says, somewhere in the ether. “There was goddamn mercury in the air, Tony—”

 “I thought so,” Tony’s voice says, closer, grave. “Okay, okay, can we—”

 “Yes, we can start—”

 “Remember, he’s enhanced so things are different, things affect him differently, Norman probably thought of that—”

 “It’s under control—”

 Peter groans and tries not to listen. He doesn’t know how much time passes but he knows he’s being poked and prodded and given things and moved around and he doesn’t want to open his eyes.

 He feels a hand on his forehead. Another on his forearm. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he turns towards the warmth. 

 “I’m sorry, Pete,” Tony whispers. “We should have checked you for something like this when we were resetting your arm and checking on the concussion. Goddamnit. We didn’t think.”

 “He poisoned us both?” Peter asks, trying to open one eye to look at him.

 “Yeah,” Tony says, brushing Peter’s hair back from his forehead. “He’s dying. He got the brunt of it, a nice fucking cocktail of bullshit, including mercury and a bunch of other toxic shit—”

 “Am I dying?” Peter whispers, voice breaking.

 “No,” Tony says, shaking his head. “No, it’s—it’s not good, but we’re dealing with it. I’ve got some treatments on the way and they’re gonna help. You being who you are helps. It’ll be okay.”

 Tears prick at Peter’s eyes, and everything still feels like it’s too big, burning, too much pressure.

 “Tell me if you need to throw up,” Tony says, rubbing Peter’s arm. 

 “Did I throw up?” Peter asks. He watches as another doctor rushes into the room behind Tony. 

 “Yeah, when you first got here,” Tony says. Peter doesn’t remember, and he sighs, wishing this was all over, wishing it wasn’t happening at all. “Just tell me if you have to, okay?” Tony asks, and Peter nods. “I’m not going anywhere. I called May. She’s coming.”

 “Okay,” Peter whispers, and his voice breaks again, horribly, a tear tracking down his cheek. 

 Tony quickly wipes it away, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “You’re gonna be fine, webs, I promise. I won’t have it any other way and I’m the savior of the universe so I get what I want.”

 Peter blows out a breath. “Good. Be stubborn about this.”

 “Oh, I’m gonna,” Tony says. Peter closes his eyes again and tries to keep his balance, even though he’s not fucking moving. “Try to sleep, okay? You’ve got a ton of people here working for you and I don’t wanna try to concoct the strong stuff to knock you out.”

 “You’re gonna flush it out?” Peter whispers. “The poison?”

 “Yes,” Tony says, gripping Peter’s wrist, fingers seemingly trying to track his pulse. “I promise.”

 ~

 Peter does sleep. He thinks. He isn’t really sure, except for the dreams, in which the Goblin traces across the sky and spews out poison gas from his mouth. Peter remembers the news reports. Norman had a son. Peter can’t remember his name, but after all that, he doesn’t like the idea of him losing his father, too. Norman is insane, and an asshole, but his son doesn’t deserve for him to die. Especially by his own hand. Peter doesn’t like the idea of him living with that.

 When he wakes up everything is a lot calmer, and darker, except for the one light beside his bed. He still feels out of it, but in a different way, and his mouth still tastes like blood. Metal.

 “Baby,” May whispers, suddenly sitting on the side of the bed.

 “May,” he says, still so tired. She’s fuzzy but it looks like there’s a halo behind her head. Maybe a light from the hallway. He sees Tony is sleeping in the chair by the bed, breathing through his mouth.

 “You’re okay, sweetheart,” May says. 

 Peter glances up and sees that he’s hooked up to about a hundred different things. He’s got a nasal cannula in and it’s definitely helping with the not breathing shit. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize,” he says, softly. He’s so annoyed at himself. There was gas everywhere, at the power plant. Norman was obviously doing something. But Peter was so distracted. “I should have—”

 “We should have realized something was wrong,” May says. “You were a little off, and MJ said something to me—”

 “He did it like this on purpose,” Peter says, holding onto her hand. “Osborn. So we wouldn’t know...right away.”

 May sets her jaw and then she shakes her head, leaning down and kissing him on the cheek twice in a row. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. We’re here.”

 Peter nods, trying not to think about all of it. Trying not to wallow in his own stupidity and guilt.

 ~

 When he wakes up again it’s brighter, and Tony is standing over him, checking on his chart. 

 “Are they doubling the poison?” Peter asks. “Finally a way to get rid of the Spider-Man?”

 “The Spider-Man,” Tony says. “The Iron Man. The Captain America.”

 “Mine works, yours don’t,” Peter says. He glances over at the other chair and sees that May isn’t here right now.

 “She’s downstairs making sure everyone properly puts your lunch together,” Tony says, reading his mind. He hangs the chart back up and sits on Peter’s bed, gently. “How you doing?”

 “Okay,” Peter says. He still doesn’t feel...amazing, but it’s not as bad as it was before. “How long have I been asleep?”

 “Uh, going on eleven hours,” Tony says, gritting his teeth. “Which is why May is so insistent on the—lunch. Gonna be a big one, she almost wanted to start feeding you through a tube.”

 Peter blows out a breath and sinks down a little further into his pillows.

 “We’re gonna have to do a couple different treatments over the next few months for the mercury,” Tony says. “It wasn’t death-level but it was close, with all the other shit he mixed in there, and it’s not good to have it in your body. With your heightened—everything, and your healing, your system was trying to attack it but, well—what he made was strong, and it was spewing out everywhere at that plant. It’s a good thing you caught it when you did, because we were able to contact everybody who went to the scene that night before they shut everything down. You saved a lot of lives, Pete. Now they’re all gonna get treated, and it would have hit them harder than it hit you because they’re not—spider men. You were just more exposed.”

 Peter stares at him. “What about Norman?”

 Tony’s face goes stern. “Why do you care about that asshole? He did this to you.”

 “He’s got...a kid, Tony,” Peter says. “My age, I think. I’m sure, as disappointed as his kid is that his dad is a super villain, he still...doesn’t want him dead.”

 Tony looks down at his hands. “He’s still alive,” he says. “I sent some of my best guys to the prison to treat him. Because I knew you’d want me to. I didn’t do it because I wanted to or because I want him to live, I did it because I knew it’s what you would have wanted.”

 Peter feels warmer, under all that, and he reaches out and grabs Tony’s hand, the one that isn’t iron. “Thank you,” he says.

 “Uh huh,” Tony says, but he squeezes Peter’s hand. “He deserves to rot for doing this to you, Pete. You’re gonna be dealing with this shit for six months or so. Minimum.”

 “I’ll beat it before then,” Peter says, smiling at him, trying to ignore how like shit he feels.

 Tony meets his eyes. “You’re too good. You need to stop being too good.”

 Peter shrugs and keeps smiling. He doesn’t think he’s good enough, at anything, ever. But he knows that’s not the right thing to say to Tony right now. 

 Tony scoffs and squeezes his hand again. “Uh, are you okay for visitors? Because Morgan was having a complete heart attack.”

 “Always ready for a Morgan visit,” Peter says. “And can you, uh—call Ned and MJ?”

 “Yeah, they’re on their way already,” Tony says. “I gotta keep your girl from chastising you too hard.”

 “No way to avoid that,” Peter says.

 “Yeah,” Tony says, patting Peter’s hand. He clears his throat and doesn’t let go quite yet. “I’m proud of you. I know I said it before when it all first happened, and I wish I had been there to back you up—I wish anybody had been, but I just—wanted to say it again. Because you deserve to hear it, especially when you’re—dealing with something like this.” He looks at him and smiles fondly, a little sadly. “I’m proud of you.”

 It’s one of Peter’s favorite things to hear, especially from Tony and May. He knows getting through this is gonna be hard, but he’s got the kind of support system that people literally wait lifetimes for. He’s beyond lucky. 

 He holds onto Tony’s hand. “I’m proud of you too.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Love Her (Part 13)

Summary: The family tries to decide on the baby’s new name and the reader has a rough night with Tommy that leads to her finally admitting a few things to Dean...

Masterlist

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language, scary situations

A/N: Please enjoy the final part!...

______

“Hi,” said Tommy early the next morning when he finally got a turn to meet the baby. She was more awake now and Ana was allowed to have the whole family in the room. “Hi baby girl.”

She stared at him and blinked, looking up at Dean.

“This is Tommy,” he said. “That’s Y/N’s boyfriend.”

She looked back at Tommy before she shut her eyes again.

“Let’s get you back with your mommy,” he said as he carried her over to Ana.

“Thank you, Tommy,” she said. “You’re very good with her.”

“They stick him with the kids on purpose,” you said as you scrolled through your phone at another list of names.

“Are they really that selective?” asked Dean.

“No. I definitely wind up as the delivery man a lot though. I’m pretty friendly and strong. I’m a much kinder face and voice than some of the people on my team. They’re all softies but little kids in those situations they want to try and scare them as little as possible,” he said.

“Plus it’s one of the safer positions or so he says,” you mumbled.

“Can we go home yet?” asked Rae from her chair.

“No silly. Mom needs to rest a bit more and we still have to name the baby,” said Dean.

“Argh,” she groaned.

“Yo. Twins. Want to go get some ice cream from the cafeteria?” asked Tommy. They both perked up and he promised to keep them busy for a few hours before he headed out with them.

“I always knew I liked that boy,” said Dean.

“What about Ava?” asked Sam from his seat.

“I still like Amelia,” said Mary.

“Ava is a much better name,” said Sam.

“I like Ann,” said John. The three of them started to argue over it and Dean wandered over to you and sighed.

“What’s your pick?” he asked.

“What about that one?” you said, showing him your phone.

“That one was actually on our shortlist if we had a girl,” said Dean. “Hey, Ana. How’d you feel about Juliet again?”

“S’good,” she said, giving a thumbs up with one hand, the baby in the other.

“You hit the drugs again, didn’t you,” he chuckled.

“Yup,” she said. “Shit’s good.”

“Maybe we wait for mom to get back to reality before we make life lasting decisions, hm?” said Dean.

“Juliet is pretty,” said Ana, closing her eyes. “De. Baby.”

“Get some rest honey,” he said as he picked up the baby. He shooed everyone out of the room aside from you who he handed the baby over to. “Dad needs a nap for a few minutes.”

“I got her,” you said.

“I know you do,” he said, taking a seat and falling asleep quickly.

The baby blinked open her eyes and looked up at you, staring at you for awhile.

“You like Juliet?” you asked. She scrunched up her face and you laughed. “No, huh. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

One Month Later

“Are you sure?” asked Dean as he pulled on his coat.

“Dad, I’m twenty. I can handle two nine year olds and a baby for a few hours,” you said.

“I thought Tommy was coming over to help,” said Ana.

“He texted me earlier, said he was going on a call. He must still be on it,” you said. You saw them glance at one another and you held up a hand. “Go on your date. He’s fine.”

“Alright. Give us a shout if they give you any trouble.”

“Hey,” said Dean when he and Ana walked in around midnight. “Still up?”

“Mhm,” you said, scrolling through your phone on the couch. “Emma went down around eight, the twins stayed up until ten before they crashed hard.”

“Tommy get hung up at work?” asked Ana.

“He never called. He always calls,” you said, glancing over at them. 

“Did you try the station?” asked Dean.

“They just said he’s on a call. I’m getting nervous. He’s been gone all day,” you said.

“Give me a second,” said Dean. He pulled out his phone and went back to the foyer. You got up and spotted him making a call. “Hey Uncle Bobby. It’s Dean...yeah you gotta come check Emma out soon, she’s a grump like you. I actually was calling for a favor...it’s for Y/N...you still know anyone down at the station who can check into something for us? Her boyfriend...yeah him. He’s out on a call and she’s getting a little worried since she hasn’t heard anything...yeah, call me back if you find anything out. Thanks.”

“Why’d you call Uncle Bobby?” you asked.

“He used to be pretty good friends with some of the local officers so I’m hoping he can dig a little for us,” said Dean.

Five minutes later his phone rang and you watched Dean bite his bottom lip.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” he said as he hung up.

He took a deep breath before he looked at you.

“Put on your coat,” he said. 

“Where’s Tommy?” you asked quietly.

“He’s at the hospital,” he said.

“Is he…” 

“Bobby just said he’s at the hospital. The call he was on went long. Real long. It was pretty bad I guess. I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said. “Put on your coat and we’ll go.”

“You’re tired. I can-“ you said before you caught his face.

“You’re not going alone,” he said. “Come on.”

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” you said in the waiting room half an hour later and ducking your head between your knees.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I have Cas and the rest of my friends off breaking a whole bunch of laws so we can find out what’s going on with Tommy in just a minute.”

“He’s probably in surgery, dad,” you said. “He could be…”

“Hey, hey,” he said as he sat you up and rubbed your arms. “The kid might not know how to change a tire but he is a good officer. He’s smart. I’m sure he’ll be okay. It’s something you two are going to have to deal with more than once I’m sure.”

“I know. We talked about that one time. I got nervous one night,” you said.

“What’d he say?”

“We came up with our check in,” you said, closing your eyes. “He asked if I wanted to stop. Seeing each other I mean.”

“He did, huh,” said Dean.

“He would love to be a graphic designer and he’s so good at it but we live here and someday maybe he could work from home on that stuff but he loves helping people and I love that he helps people. He didn’t want me to feel strung along was all for however long he decides to do this. He warned me stuff like tonight would happen. It would happen again and again and if it was too much that was okay.”

“When was this?” he asked.

“A long time ago,” you said.

“Well when you have nights like this, you let me know and I’ll be right here, okay?” he said.

“Thanks,” you said, closing your eyes just as the door opened. Your eyes flashed open and you saw Cas step inside. 

“He’s fine,” said Cas. You nodded and let out a breath, Dean giving you a hug.

“See? I told you so,” he said.

“Why couldn’t I talk to him or-” you asked before Cas held up a hand.

“Come on. You can ask him yourself,” he said.

Two minutes later you walked into a room, Tommy still in his jumpsuit as someone wrapped up his hand.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry. I should have...I really wasn’t thinking straight.”

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” you asked.

“Oh, yeah. This is a sprain,” he said.

“It seems there was a gunshot victim and Tommy here decided to shove his fingers inside an open wound and clamp the artery shut by force,” said the other doctor in there.

“Saved that person’s life from what I’ve heard,” said Cas. 

“He sat up on the operating table for awhile before we could move him. Ice and take it easy with that hand for awhile. We’ll get you a medical notice for work,” said the other doctor.

“Thanks,” said Tommy before he left. “Yeah. Sorry. I should have asked somebody to call you.”

“It’s okay,” you said as you gave him a hug. 

“I’m kinda covered in a crapton of blood, honey,” he said. You peeled away and looked down at your shirt.

“Who cares? You’re okay. I’m happy,” you said, hugging him again.

“I need a hug after today,” he said.

“Spend the night,” you said. 

“I’m okay,” he said. 

“Tommy,” said Dean. “When your girl knows you feel like shit and she offers to take care of you, let her take care of you, hm? Trust me.”

“I’m gonna shower this crap off and give my mom a call first if that’s okay,” he said.

“Yeah. Take your time,” you said. “We can wait.”

“Morning,” said your dad quietly as he walked Emma around just after dawn. 

“Morning,” you said when you walked into the kitchen. “She still cranky in the morning?”

“Yup. I don’t mind. Gives us our daddy daughter time,” he said, Emma falling back asleep on his shoulder. “What are you doing up?”

“Getting an icepack for Tommy’s hand. He’s wincing in his sleep a bit,” you said.

“Wrap it in a towel for him so it’s not too cold,” he said.

“I know,” you said as you pulled one out of the freezer and put a hand towel around it. You started to head back to your room when you felt his stare on you. You spun around and he was looking out the back window, the first bit of sun coming through the windows.

“How bad was he?” he asked quietly.

“Bad. I’ve never seen him like that,” you said. “It was really bad in there from what he said.”

“He’ll be okay,” he said.

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re taking care of him,” he smiled. “You understand trauma and all of it. You know how to take care of people. If you do decide to go on to med school, you’re gonna be a hell of a doctor.”

“I’d settle for an okay boyfriend,” you said.

“Sweetheart. He’s okay and he knows he’s okay. He had a long day and he needed you to take care of him is all,” he said. “That’s what you do when you love someone. You do a whole bunch of stuff when you love someone that much. Like waking up earlier and getting ice packs for someone so they can sleep a little easier.”

“Like giving someone a bracelet you made,” you said, holding up your wrist. He smiled and held up his own. 

“Can I ask you something?” he said and you nodded, rubbing your eyes. “What exactly was it that got us here? You didn’t want to love me.”

“No. I didn’t. But I sure as hell needed to,” you said, his chin raising. “It wasn’t any one thing. It was a million little things. It was making breakfast, asking about my day, checking on me at night. It was someone that stood up for me and protected me because I was so tired of doing it for myself. It was the guy who gave me this bracelet and said I was his, no matter what. No matter how angry I got at you those years I was gone, I kept this because I remember all of that. I remembered and I wanted it back. You gave it all back and more. But you never once treated me like I was screwed up or wrong. I have never been a drama free child but it’s never been too much for you. I guess...one day I realized I had to grow up and admit that while I loved my mom, my childhood sucked. It wasn’t this thing I’d remembered it as. There was yelling and fighting and smashing and I’ve always been afraid of something, always. But I never had to be afraid here. This was where I learned I didn’t have to be that way anymore, that being safe and happy was normal. You always wanted me to give you a chance when that’s all I wanted too. I didn’t want to love you but you suffocated me with it and I needed it so bad and I think you knew you needed it too and I wish I could go back and tell myself to trust you from the start because there was never anything I had to be afraid of.”

“I wouldn’t go back,” he said, turning towards you. “I love every crappy, drama-filled, crazy, insane second. Never would have met Tommy if you were like every other twenty year old.”

“This is true,” you said. 

“You like him.”

“No shit, sherlock,” you said, getting a quiet laugh from him.

“You know what I mean,” he said. “You like him.”

“Yeah. I do,” you said. Emma stirred and grabbed his shirt, letting out a tiny yawn.

“You know I do have one regret,” said Dean. “Rae. Ryan. Emma. I got to know all of them as little kids. I got to carry ‘em around and do all the dad stuff. We sort of missed that.”

“Yeah, we did,” you said. “But then again, we didn’t.”

“Still. If I could take away all of the parts that hurt, I would, sweetheart,” he said.

“I take after my dad. Sue me,” you said with a smile.

“Dad’s doing a lot better the past few years,” he said.

“I know. Me too,” you said, grabbing the ice pack from the counter. “I better get this to him.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said. “Love you.”

“Love you too, dad.”

______

[flowerfan2]

Gray Skies - Epilogue (now complete)

McDanno, 13k, A03 Read from the beginning here

Hi all!  Apologies for taking so long to finish this - in my head it was done, but a conversation on the H50 writer’s discord about WIPs reminded me that I had meant to give it an epilogue.  So here it is - hope you enjoy it!

Summary: What if Danny misses work because some days, he just can’t manage to come in? What if Danny didn’t move into Steve’s house just because he was worried about Steve, but also about himself? Living with depression doesn’t have to mean living without love.

Epilogue

Six months later

Steve’s in the kitchen, having a philosophical debate with himself over whether trying to find pineapple flavored coffee to tease Danny with is worth the effort, when the man himself comes into the room.

Danny’s looking kind of rough, hair tousled and unshaven.  He clearly hasn’t showered yet.  Steve’s heart squeezes a little, and he moves towards Danny, arms opening to catch him in a hug.

“Nuh-uh, none of that,” Danny says, stepping back and shaking his head.  “I’m fine.”

Steve stops in his tracks.  He’s surprised, to say the least.  Since when has Danny not wanted a morning hug?

“I didn’t say you weren’t fine,” he responds carefully, searching Danny’s face for a clue to his mood.

“But you assumed.”  

Danny’s clearly annoyed, even upset, and Steve can’t fathom why.  “No, I just wanted to-”

“Don’t lie.  You took one look at me,” Danny waves his hand up and down his rather unkempt self, “and you decided I needed help.  Next thing you know you’ll be offering to put on some music and bring me peppermint tea, or build a pillow fort, or give me a back rub.”

“And those are bad things?  I was under the impression that you liked it when I did nice things for you.”  Now Steve is getting annoyed too.  “What’s got into you this morning?”

 “Nothing,” Danny says, a little too loudly.  “Absolutely nothing.  It is an absolutely normal morning.”

 “Then why are you acting like this?” Steve can feel his voice rising to meet Danny’s.

 “Like what?  I haven’t done anything unusual.  It’s you who’s being weird – why aren’t you out on a run, huh? Or swimming around the island, or practicing for a decathlon?”

 “Oh, that’s mature.  And I already went for a run, as you would know if you were having a reasonable conversation with me instead of-”

 “So it’s my fault for not being reasonable?  Forgive me, I should have gotten up earlier, been prepared to quiz you on your morning activities.  Sorry I’m not a mind reader.”  Danny scrubs a hand over his face.  “Shouldn’t have bothered to get up at all, if I can’t do it right.”

 Steve doesn’t understand how this has gotten so out of hand.  “Danny, please, tell me what’s going on?”

 “For god’s sake, Steve, can’t a person just want to have a lazy morning for once, without his partner jumping all over him to fix everything?”

 Steve bites back his immediate reaction, which is to argue some more, and point out that maybe a person who wanted a lazy morning shouldn’t have started it by picking a fight as expertly as Danny just did.  But maybe something he’s learned in therapy is actually sticking, because he takes a deep breath instead.

 Danny’s hands are tightening into fists as he watches Steve, and he can tell Danny is about to blow.  But then, remarkably, Danny takes a deep breath too, and removes himself from the kitchen.

 Steve follows him – slowly, respectfully, not like he’s running after Danny to keep arguing, definitely not – and finds Danny staring out at the lanai.

 “It’s raining pretty hard,” Steve says. He’s not changing the subject so much as giving them both a chance to regroup, and Danny knows it, squeezing his eyes together hard and taking another deep breath before answering.

 “Yeah.  Good for the plants, though.”

 “Yeah.  It’s been dry.”

 “Yeah.”

 Steve lets another long moment pass, watching Danny’s shoulders relax and his fists unclench.  “If I come over there and give you a hug, ‘cause I like you a lot and for no other reason, are you gonna snap at me again?”  Steve asks calmly.

 “Asshole,” Danny mutters.  “Come here.”

 Steve wraps his arms around Danny from behind, and Danny leans back against him.  They both stare out at the downpour for a few minutes.  Steve loves the way he can feel Danny breathing, how he can match his inhales and exhales if he tries.

 He presses his nose into Danny’s shoulder, rubs his cheek against the soft t-shirt Danny wears to sleep in, and Danny tilts his head to rest it on Steve’s.

 Sometimes Steve wants to worm his way right under Danny’s skin, line them up together and fuse them tight with no space between them.  Maybe then he’d understand better what makes Danny tick, when to push and when to give him space.  Thing is, Steve hardly ever wants space from Danny anymore, and he thinks Danny feels the same. They’re getting better at this, lifting each other up without either of them faltering as a result, but it takes practice.

 “You went for a run in the rain?” Danny asks, as a burst of lightening races across the sky.  His voice holds nothing of the accusatory tone from just a few minutes ago, he’s just asking.

 “It wasn’t raining as hard before,” Steve says.

 “You’re kind of crazy.”

 “I know.”

 They fall silent again, but it’s more comfortable now.  Steve nuzzles against the side of Danny’s head, where his hair is buzzed short, and Danny hums contentedly.

 “I don’t feel depressed,” Danny says.

 Steve gets that he’s circling back to their earlier conversation, although he’s not sure yet where it’s going. “Okay,” Steve says carefully.  

 “No, I mean it.”  Danny turns in Steve’s arms, gives him a quick peck in the vicinity of his chin, and then steps away, walking over to the couch and flopping down.  “I’m okay. I’m so much better than I was, you see that, right?”

 “I do,” Steve says, and he means it. They’ve been going to therapy, and are each on slightly different meds, and he thinks it has helped both of them. Sure, there are good days and bad days, and Steve’s nightmares have proved difficult to shake, but overall they’re in a much better place than they were six months ago when Danny finally pushed them to get professional help.

 “But I woke up this morning,” Danny continues, “and I just felt, I don’t know, bleh.”

 “Bleh?”  Steve asks, letting a hint of humor color his tone, and Danny smirks.

 “Yeah.  Bleh.”

 “Okay.”

 “Do you get it, though?  Not hopeless, not as if I couldn’t bother to get up.  Not like there wasn’t any reason I could think of to even move.  Just bleh.”

 Steve comes over to the couch and sits down next to Danny, twisting so he can see his face.  “That’s good, right?”

 Danny snorts.  “Yeah, I thought so.  But then I came downstairs and you looked at me with that concerned face and…”

 “You felt like I wasn’t seeing your success.”

 Danny sighs and gazes away.  “I don’t like the idea that I’m always going to be sick, to you.  Someone who needs help.  I don’t like feeling weak.”

 Steve slides a little closer to Danny and bumps their knees together.  “One, you’re not, and I could tell you about a hundred reasons why, although you know them already.  And two, I could say the same thing about me.”

 Danny looks at him now, his nose wrinkling.  “I know. But why do I still worry about it?”

 Steve shrugs.  “Guess we’re just going to have to be patient.”

 Danny laughs half-heartedly and pokes a finger into Steve’s chest.  “Ha. Good one.  You, patient?  We’re doomed.”

 “As long as we’re doomed together, we can handle it.”  Steve leans his shoulder against Danny and Danny leans back, his hand reaching for Steve’s.

 “We’ve been doomed together before.”

 “Multiple times,” Steve agrees.

 “Remember when we dropped that nuke into the ocean from Kamekona’s helicopter?”

 “Not sure I could forget that, Danny.” Steve would love to forget it, it was terrifying, but there’s no chance.  “We still made it back in time for Kono’s wedding, though.”

 “That we did.”  Danny picks up his hand that’s holding Steve’s, and plays with his fingers.  Steve watches him, his heart stuttering as Danny brings his hand up to his mouth for a kiss, and then lets out a long sigh.

 “You know,” Steve starts out slowly, “I really did intend to have a lazy day today, too.  I cut my workout short and everything.”

 Danny rolls his eyes at Steve. “You did?  What does that even mean?  Only two hundred push-ups?”

 Steve glances over at the window as another burst of lightning streaks through the clouds.  “Thought I’d put on some Norah Jones and make something decadent with bacon.  Maybe eat it in a pillow fort.”  Steve raises an eyebrow at Danny.  “Rainy days are good for pillow forts.”

 “Using my words against me,” Danny groans.  “I’m gonna kill you.”

 “I was thinking about back rubs, too…”

 Danny opens his mouth, then closes it again.  “If back rubs are a euphemism for something else, I may regret rejecting them as a potential activity for today.”

 “Maybe yes, maybe no.  Does that mean you’ll reconsider?”

 Danny lets a smile dance across his face, then stifles it in mock exasperation.  “But no peppermint tea.  A guy’s gotta draw the line somewhere.”

 Steve beams, and pounces on Danny, who flops back on the couch and grins at him as Steve covers his body with his own.  Danny reaches for Steve’s head and pulls him down into a blistering kiss that is entirely out of synch with the whole lazy day aesthetic.

 “Sex now, lazy day and pillow forts later?” Steve asks when Danny lets him come up for air.

 “Sounds like a plan,” Danny replies, one hand sliding down to give Steve’s butt a squeeze, grinding them both together.

 “That’s why I love you so much,” Steve says between kisses, “you have the best plans.”

 Danny laughs against Steve’s skin, sending shivers down his spine, and there’s the Danny he knows again, sunshine bright and heart open.  “Love you too, babe, love you too.”  

[soldierfirstclasszeldafair]

Title: Unexpecting

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Characters: Dante Sparda, Ripley Rowe (OC)

Chapters: 1/?

The creek in the wooden floor on the third stair alerts Ripley that someone is nearing the bedroom. Glancing over at the digital clock with its bright red numbers, it reads 2:27 p.m.

Sure Ripley likes to sleep in from time to time like many people, but never on a day she’s supposed to be working. Dante’s supposed to be coming home sometime today from a weekend of demon hunting with Vergil. So she’s been in charge of the Devil May Cry in his absence. She’s supposed to be downstairs managing the shop right now.

By now she’s usually got the mail sorted, done some cleaning, called clients about any payments that are pending (because Dante has a hard time making people pay) and taking on any new clients or going out on a small hunt.

Having already forgotten about the person walking up the stairs, she jumps slightly hearing the doorknob turn. Dante opens the door and flips the switch turning on the light.

Ripley flinches and closes her eyes from the sudden burst of light and rubs them. Hearing her slight movements in the bed, Dante quickly turns his head in her direction and finds her barely conscious under a pile of blankets.

“Still in bed? Everything was so quiet I thought you might have gone out.” Dante smiles at her then shrugs off his coat, hanging it on the dark wooden post on his side of the bed. He turns around to find clothes to change into after a much needed shower.

“I just woke up” she rasps, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she goes to sit up and very quickly her body fights against her, feeling lightheaded from the sudden movement. Groaning and squeezing her eyes shut and feeling very weak and tired all of a sudden.

Ripley manages to sit upright though keeping her eyes squeezed shut. She rests her back against her pillows and headboard taking in a shaky breath to try and steady her dizziness. It Feels like she’s on a boat, lost at sea that’s been caught in a terrible storm with waves crashing angrily against the ship making it sway back and forth. 

She groans again but forces her eyes to open and blinks a few times trying to clear her vision. It sways some more and she feels very faint.

“D..dante”

Dante quickly moves over, to catch and support her. His arm snakes around her shoulders and pulls her close to him. She leans or rathers drops her head onto him.

“Sweetheart what’s wrong? Can you look at me” he gently tries shaking her. When she just groans in response it quickly worries him further. Concern is written all over Dante’s face and laced into his voice which is usually confident and playful, now coming out shaky.

“I” quickly placing her palm to her forehead where a rampant headache is forming. “I don’t feel so good.”

Dante notices her cheeks are flushed and puts the back of his free hand on her face trying to get a read on her temperature. He moves his hand under her shirt and onto her back.

Normally Ripley is cool to his touch since naturally Dante runs warmer from his demon heritage. Right now, Ripley is starting to loose that cooling sensation and is feeling more like himself.

“You definitely have a fever” he mumbles more to himself than to her. Brushing some of her hair out of the way that’s starting to curl from sweat, he starts rattling his brain on what to do.

Dante has hardly ever been sick and the last time he can recal being ill was when he was a small child. The only thing that comes to mind is laying in bed after taking some medicine while his mother tended to him.

He can recall his mother rubbing his back soothingly trying to get him to rest and fall asleep, so he does just that and Ripley nuzzles her face into his chest.

Adjusting his hold on her trying to get into a more comfortable position he maneuvers himself behind her, letting her rest against him. Immediately feeling the heat radiating from her skin.

“Are you still feeling dizzy? should probably call Kyrie, she’ll know how to get you better in no time.“

Ripley opens her eyes and does her best to look up at Dante from her position. She sees just how worried he is for her and she grabs onto his forearm and brushes her hand over him to help comfort him.

“I think I’m past being dizzy” she yawns still brushing his arm. “I just want to lie down.”

Dante then spends the next five minutes fluffing up her pillows trying to make them perfect. It earns a soft and tired laugh from Ripley. “I think they’re as good as can be D.”

Muttering an “alright,” he helps her lay back down and get comfortable under the covers before he tucks her in. Who knew Dante the Legendary Demon Hunter could be such a mother hen.

He rests his hand on her blanket covered thigh and rubs his thumb back and forth subconsciously. Overlooking his work and seemingly satisfied with how comfortable she looks he sits on the edge of their bed brushing her hair back again.

“I’m going to head downstairs and call Kyrie and see what all you need. Probably have to go pick up a few things. If you need me-“

Breaking free from the confines of the blanket she grabs Dante’s hand. “I’ll call you” she smiles to reassure him. “I’ll be okay for a few while you’re downstairs and picking up medicine. When you come back you can come back upstairs take care of me and watch over me till your hearts content.”

He smiles and proceeds to tuck you back in with the blanket just to tease you now. There’s my Dante. “Alright Sweetheart I’ll be back in a few. Get some rest.”

With a kiss to the forehead he’s closing the door and headed downstairs just for him to get halfway to turn around and come back up the stairs opening the door. He leans against the doorframe peaking inside smiling seeing you just how he left you.

“Love you.”

“I Love you too Dante.”

Headed back down stairs, going straight over to his desk and picking up of the phone. He has to dig around for a minute to find the sticky note that has Neros number scratched onto it.

He dials in the number and it rings, rings, rings, and ri-

“Hello?”

There’s some back ground noise that can be heard.

“Hey Nero, I need-

“Listen Dante, Im busy with the kids. If the city’s not burning down I’m not coming.”

“Not asking you to kid. Is Kyrie around?”

Some kids can be heard running around the house, laughing with each other.

“Yeah she’s here. -don’t run in here please- what do you need Kyrie for” Nero asks skepticaly.

Hearing her name, Kyrie walks over to see what’s going on.

“Who is it?” She mouths to Nero

“Dante. And he says Ripleys sick, has a fever or something.”

Immediately she walks over and takes the phone from Nero, ushering him and the kids away so she can hear better.

“Hey Dante, Nero said Ripleys got a fever?”

After talking on the phone with Kyrie, Dante now has list of items to go pick up. A thermometer, a few options of medications, soups, and many different types of tea that hes never heard of before.

Folding up the paper and grabbing his wallet, he makes his way to the doors of the Devil May Cry but stops as he senses his brother on the other side. Stepping to the side so he doesn’t get hit by the door, Vergil takes one step inside before stopping dead in his tracks.

He stares into the direction of Dantes and Ripleys bedroom with a weird and unreadable look on his face. Dante eyes him suspiciously but pushes past him to leave. Vergil then turns around and asks what’s he doing.

“My girls sick. She has a fever, gotta pick up a few things. Don’t be noisy and wake her.” He’s nearly out the door when Vergil grabs his shoulder.

“She’s not sick.”

“Huh?” He turns to look back at his brother and sees that he’s looking up at their room again. “You can’t sense it?” Vergil questions cutting his eyes at Dante.

“What the hell are you talking about.”

Vergil looks away from his brother, questioning how he should word the information.

“You gonna tell mewhat the he’ll you’re talking about or what? She’s sick. I’ve got to go pick her up some med-“

“She’s carrying your offspring Dante.” Vergil looks Dante in the eyes and can visually see the gears turning in his head trying to process what he just said.

“You should be able to sense the change in her hormones. I noticed when I stepped foot inside. Perhaps you’ve grown accustomed to Ripleys scent.”

Dante still standing at the door, speechless, confused, and lost in thought. Slowly he’s coming to and starting to process what his brother just said.

Now that he thinks about it he can definitely smell your hormones. It’s usually something he can smell when you’re both being intimate. How had he not noticed it earlier? Did it trigger when he got close to you? Are you really pregnant? Doing the math in his head He looks at Vergil like he’s magically grown a second head.

“H-How?”

At that Vergil snickers loudly. “I know you’re not the brightest dear brother, but I’m sure you’re fully aware of how that works.”

Dante cuts his eyes at him and walks further inside the building. Dante’s at a loss for words as he looks around his shop. Stopping to lean over his desk and run a hand through his hair pulling on the strands.

“I could sense Neros mother the same way after a few demons were close by just as I can sense Ripley now. Though I didn’t know that meant she was carrying Nero at the time.”

Vergil continues “ I imagine Ripley feeling discomfort is because she’s a human carrying a demon.” He looks back up to the room as if he can see her.

For whatever reason, Dante can feel himself growing aggressive by Vergil’s statements. He can feel the demon part of him clawing to break free. Vergil can sense Ripley? Smell her? The same way he can smell her when she’s aroused? Why does he keep looking in her direction and why the hell is he smirking?

A very deep and dark growl can be heard coming from Dante. It was so dark and frightening that any other demon would have fled the scene as fast as possible but Vergil remains standing in his spot, carefree. It’s a warning and one that should not be ignored. Dante watches the older Sparda very closely just as Vergil watches the younger Sparda.

Vergil wanting to see just how far he could push Dante, he takes a few steps in Ripleys direction, not taking his eyes off of Dante and that’s all it takes for Dante to loose control and trigger into his Sin demon form knocking everything close by including the desk against the wall with the force his wings alone, papers scatter the floor. Dante lets out another growl vibrating the walls around the shop, this one surly reaching Ripleys ears.

Vergil remains standing a couple steps closer towards Ripley. Though ignoring his own want to trigger in Dante’s prescence. The door to Dante’s bedroom flies open, with a very pissed off Ripley walking out to the top of the stairs.

“What the fuck is going on with you two. I’m sick and trying to sleep. Take this shit” she points at the two brothers “somewhere else!” She stomps off slamming the door back.

Vergil then deciding it’s best to leave Dante alone before having to face Ripleys wrath. Dante coming more in control the further Vergil is from Ripley.

Slowly he’s back to himself, though now terrified for what’s to come with his new knowledge about Ripleys illness. He slowly climbs back up the stairs to check on her.

The closer he gets the stronger he can feel her presence, it even feels like it’s pulling him to her. He could always feel her before, but it’s different now.

She’s pregnant. With his baby.

Dante opens the door to find Ripley standing next to the bed with her back to the door. He walks behind her and instinctively puts his hands around her stomach. He kisses her cheek and drops his head where her neck meets her shoulder and kisses and gently grazes his teeth against her.

His demon half wants to sink his teeth into her and mark her as his, but yet Dante wants to be gentle.

Ripley sniffles and Dante pulls away, scared he’s done something wrong. Turning to face Dante, she wipes away her tears.

“Am I really pregnant ?”

Dante turns his head away glancing over to the wall and swallows. “I uh” he clears his throat looking back at the most beautiful woman that he feel in love with.

“Yeah, I believe so”

Standing on her tippy toes she kisses Dante like she’s never kissed him before. The two lock together, holding each other as close as possible, moaning and grunting into each other. When they pull apart Ripley wipes the tears away from Dantes cheeks as he does hers.

Dante again places his hands on Ripleys soon to be growing belly and lets more tears fall.

[gsophie43]

Game of Survival

Chapter 3

Jay awoke and shifted his head. He looked to the side to see Hailey and Will sitting next to him. Hailey was asleep but it seemed as though Will had been watching him sleep. A little creepy, but Jay couldn’t blame him.

“Hey.” He was surprised by the scratchiness of his voice.

“Hey.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past 12:30 in the morning.”

“Hmm.”

“Jay, I need to tell you something.”

“Did you get arrested? Who do I have to bribe?” Jay attempted to deflect Will’s serious tone. Will cracked a smile.

“No one. But, uh. Your neck.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re gonna have to do another reconstruction surgery. Finish repairing the muscles. The bullet did a lot of damage to your skin as well. You might need a skin graft. That may mean a third surgery. They may do it during the next one. It depends.”

“On what?”

“How long you’re under. If they have time. If your cbc comes back good from the transfusion. If it doesn’t then you risk bleeding out if you’re under too long. If they need things to heal up a little bit first.”

Jay shifted his jaw.

“So I won’t be able to go back to work for a while.” Jay observed.

“No.” Will sighed. “Not for a few months.”

“When are they planning on doing it?”

“It’s scheduled for the morning after tomorrow. Or tomorrow morning technically, I guess.” Jay sighed.

“Does Hailey know?”

“No. She doesn’t.”

“Can I tell her?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I need to shave before?” Will smiled.

“They will do that for you. But, I have certain contacts that made sure you were fully shaved last time instead of getting half a beard.” Will said mischievously.

“They would really only shave half of someone’s face?”

“If they didn’t need to shave the other side.”

“That’s just awful.” Jay laughed. Will smiled.

“Anything to make sure my brother remained a baby face.”

“Shut up.” Will smiled at his brother doped up on pain meds.

“Alright, now that that’s out of the way, we can both go to sleep.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jay said, closing his eyes.

He woke up late in the morning. Hailey was whispering something, so he decided to be nosy, and keep his eyes closed and listen.

“I love you so much, you know that. I love your freckles. The way that they’re all different sizes. And I love your curly hair. It’s so thick and soft and beautiful. And I love your hazel eyes. I love that they’re multicolored, I love that they change colors. I love the scars. I know you hate them. They remind you of Afghanistan. And I know you think they’re ugly. I think they’re beautiful because they’re a part of you. And I don't know how to tell you all of this. And you almost died and I thought I missed my chance to to tell you how amazing you are. I wish I knew how to tell you that you’re everything to me when you’re not asleep-”

“Just like that.” Jay said softly, opening his eyes. Hailey was perched next to him, sitting on the bed. She gasped and a horrified look crossed her face.

“Hailey, you’re beautiful, strong, brave and so many other things but most of all you’re everything to me too.”

“You heard that?”

“Yeah.”

She stared at his neck, wrapped from his chin to his shoulder with gauze sticking up on one side. She felt as if the air was stolen from her lungs.

“How bad.” She squeaked out.

“Huh?”

“How bad did it hurt.” She said slowly reaching out and touching the surface of the bandages. Tears welled up quickly in her eyes and her vision started to blur. He could see the guilt in her eyes and it broke his heart.

“Hailey” he whispered, grabbing her hand. “I’m still here.” He said, putting her hand over his heart. “I’m gonna be okay.” She put her head down and nodded.

“I should have had your back.”

“You did. You were there and pressed on the wound. You made sure I didn’t bleed out. If you hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here today. You saved my life.”

“Hey,” he tried to soothe. “It’s gonna be okay.” Hailey wiped her tears and forced a smile.

“Yeah.” She pulled her hand away like it was burning. “I’m sorry. It’s just, you mean alot, so it sucked to watch you almost die.” Jay looked at her beautiful figure as they sat in silence. He didn’t know how to respond.

“Will says I’m gonna have another surgery tomorrow morning.” Jay broke the silence.

“What for?”

“To finish the reconstruction from the first surgery. He also said I might need a skin graft which could potentially be a third surgery if they can’t do it during the second surgery.”

“Huh.”

“I- uh- Can you tell the team? I don’t want to drag them all the way down here.”

“I’ll call Trudy and tell her.”

“And tell her what?” A female voice from the door startled them.

“Sarge!” Jay said as Hailey jumped up from her spot.

“I don’t know if you’ll like them, but I brought flowers because it's a custom practice in the United States when visiting someone in the hospital.”

“Thank you,Sarge. You can put them wherever.” He quickly realized how sore his neck was as he strained to turn his head and see her.

She pulled up a chair and sat  next to Hailey.

“How are you feeling?” She asked sincerely.

“I’m sore all the time. Hurts really bad when the meds start to wear off.”

“From what I heard, you took a hell of a blast.” His eyes flickered over to Hailey before looking back at Trudy.

“I guess. I don’t really remember. It’s kind of a blur.”

“Everyone’s worried about you. People keep coming up to my desk to ask how you’re doing.”

“What have you been telling them so far?”

“Well, you were in surgery, you were out of surgery. You were recovering and stable. Stuff like that.”

“Hmm. Well, uh, Hailey was gonna tell you that I have another surgery tomorrow morning. They gotta finish fixing everything. I was wondering if you could tell the team for me.”

“Definitely. I can do that.”

“Thankyou.”

“Alright then, let me head back to the district before it turns into a mad house.Do you guys need anything before I go?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“No, thanks.”

“Hang in there, Halstead.”

“See you, Sarge.”

The rest of the day was tense. Both Jay and Hailey were nervous about his upcoming surgery. Rojas stopped by for a visit, and Will came by in the late afternoon, forcing Hailey to go home and freshen up. She came back in the evening and spent the rest of the night with him. Jay didn’t sleep well that night. He was anxious and restless. Jay did finally manage to fall asleep and was woken up by Will.

“Hey buddy, we need to start getting you prepped.”

“What time is it?”

“A little past six.”

“Can you wake Hailey up?” Will did and Hailey quietly stroked his hair as they started setting a new IV up and getting his catheter in and transferring him to a stretcher.

“Hailey, I’m scared.” He admitted in a whisper once all the nurses had left.

“I know. You’re going to be okay. Will is gonna be with you the whole time.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I promise.”

She slowly bent down and their lips connected.

She pulled away slowly.

“Good thoughts only, Jay.” She whispered, her lips twitching up into a smirk.  Sadly, she couldn’t comb her fingers through his hair because it was covered in a hairnet.

“Good thoughts only.” He echoed as their fingers intertwined.

“The team wanted me to have us call them before you went in.”

“The team?”

“Well, call Adam. Who would have the team there.”

“Oh. Ok.” Hailey pulled out her phone and dialed the number.

“Hello?” Adam answered.

“Hey, phone’s speaker. Jay’s here.”

“Guys, guys. It’s Jay.” The heard Adam say in the distance. There was some rustling before a chorus of greetings.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Kim asked.

“I’m feeling good. Just want to get it over with.”

“Not nervous though, right?” Kevin said.

“Nah, man. Never.” Jay joked back.

“Stay strong, Jay. We’re sorry we couldn’t be there but we wanted to make sure you knew we were all rooting for you.” Rojas said.

“Yeah man, you got this.” Adam said.

“Thankyou guys so much.”

“Hang in there Jay. We need you back here.” Hank’s gravelly voice said.

“Thank you.” They said their farewells and ended the call. Will made his way from the door to Jay’s bed.

“Aright, Hailey can’t walk with you the whole way but she can walk most of the way. I will be in the OR with you the whole time. Perks of being a doctor here. I will try to get Hailey as soon as the operation is over. There may be a chance that you will be sedated overnight to rest.”

“Okay.”

“Are you ready brother?”

“Yeah.” The started the journey to the OR. They stopped at the double doors that only staff could go through and Hailey gently kissed his forehead.

“Good thoughts only.” She whispered.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“Tell me that after.” She gave his hand a long squeeze before nodding to Will.

From there he was quickly transported, sedated, and the operation started.

She went back to the waiting room. It was like déjà vu. She waited and waited. She let a few tears fall. She let herself be angry at the shooter. She let herself ride an emotional roller coaster. Finally she was just exhausted and fell asleep in the chair. She was gently awoken by Will.

“Hailey...Hailey?”

“Huh?”

“Surgery’s over.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. They have him in his room already. He did really good. His vitals stayed steady throughout. And they were able to complete the graft already. We’re gonna keep him sedated overnight so he can rest.”

“So no more surgeries?”

“No more surgeries.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, its really good. The only downside is that there will be a lot of scarring and rehabilitation will hell.”

“Wow, way to kill the mood.”

“Sorry. Uh, we have him on an NG tube to feed him tonight and tomorrow. His stomach will be sensitive from the anesthesia. I can take you to sit with him.”

“Thankyou.” He escorted Hailey back to the familiar room.

Her partner lay there once again. He was sleeping peacefully despite the bandages and the icepack. A small yellow tube coming out of his nose was taped to his cheek and tucked behind his ear. A mask rested over his nose and mouth. Hailey smiled.

“He looks so peaceful.”

“I don’t think he’s slept like this since.. well… since before he enlisted.”

“Yeah…”

They sat with Jay for a while, occasionally cracking jokes about Jay getting plastic surgery, before Will went out and got both of them some supper. After, the team visited when they were done with work. All night Hailey slept holding Jay’s hand. The morning was pretty dull. Jay was given meds, an NG feeding, and taken off the sedation. The mask was removed and replaced with a cannula. The team dropped by again, whispering and chatting while Jay slept. They missed it the first time Jay blinked his eyes open because he was asleep again in a matter of a handful of seconds. The second time was a little different, because Jay made a noise when he awoke. Adam nudged Hailey who was at Jay’s side as his eyes cracked open.

“Hey, big guy.”

“I love you.” Hailey froze, Jay probably didn’t realize that the rest of the team was there. But, then again, it wasn’t like the team didn’t already know they were dating and had been for a long time. Jay took a breath before talking again.

“You told me to tell you after the surgery.” Hailey smiled. Of course Jay would be the one to remember something like that.

“Awwwwww… how cute.” Adam teased.

“Jesus...” Jay whispered under his breath, realizing he had an audience and reddening with embarrassment.

“That might be one of the cutest things I’ve seen all year.” The team giggled.

“Shut up, Adam.” Jay and Hailey said in unison.

“Man, someone’s cranky.” Adam retorted. Jay rolled his eyes.

“Glad you’re awake, man.” Jay fist bumped Adam. Jay was met with a chorus of greetings. When asked how he was feeling he answered that his neck and his thighs were sore, to which Hailey had to explain that that was where they took the skin from to graft it in. Jay lasted for all of about thirty more seconds before falling back asleep. Will woke him up in the afternoon to pull his feeding tube. It was a terrible experience that made Jay tear up and sneeze  and cough from the tickling sensation in his nose and the back of his nose. Jay rubbed his nose aggressively to try to get rid of the feeling. Jay fell back asleep shortly thereafter. He woke up and was covered in his favorite blanket. It was a fleece blanket Will had bought him once that was camo with the 75th Rangers insignia on it. It was soft and Jay had frequently used it. Someone had obviously picked it up from his apartment. Will, who was sitting next to him, smiled and held up a container of red jello and a spoon.

“Wanna try it?” Jay smiled. It reminded him of his mom. When he would get sick as a kid, his mom would cover him in his favorite blanket and give him jello. Granted, Jay mostly got stomach bugs as a kid so that would be one of the few things he could keep down.

“Yeah.” He said, gladly accepting it.

He quietly opened it and took a bite before looking at Will.

“Hey Will?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think Mom would say if she was here? About me getting shot, again? Do you think she’d be disappointed?”

“No, no. I think she’d be worried. But more than that, I think she would be proud. Not that you got hurt. But that you were pushing a civilian out of harm’s way when it happened. You were being selfless. I think she would tell you that it was a good call. But she would probably also tell you that she would want you to be more careful. Even though you couldn’t control it.”

“It’s hard going into the field sometimes. I know that it’s my duty as a cop to protect, but I worry. Because I don’t want to leave you here alone. I mean, I became a cop because I didn’t think it mattered if anything happened to me. Mom was gone, Dad had disappeared, you were in New York. But now I have you, and I have Hailey, and the team.” Jay set down his Jello container and finished his last bite.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I think I might be a little high.” Will laughed at him and Jay smiled.

“Oh brother. I love you so much.”

“Ditto.” Will rolled his eyes.

“Mom would say she loved you no matter what you did or what you were going through.”

“She loved us.”

“Yeah.” Will rubbed Jay’s leg.

“You wanna stay awake. We can turn on the news or something.”

“Oh that sounds good.”

They flipped through channels until Jay stopped Will.

“Go back.” Will did to see Deputy Superintendent Miller on a podium, holding a press conference.

“Turn it up.”

“During the shooting, however, the responding officer, Detective Jay Halstead, sustained a life threatening injury. The offender fired multiple rounds at Detective Halstead using a shot gun, one of which unfortunately hit Detective Halstead’s neck. He underwent life saving surgery and is now recovering from a second surgery. Detective Halstead acted humbly and heroically, trying to protect a civilian from danger, and the CPD commends his efforts.”

“That made it up the ranks quick” Jay commented.

“Yeah.”

“Can you put something else on?” Jay asked after a few seconds. “I don’t really feel like listening about my own near death experience.”

“Yeah.” Will put on some documentary before sitting back down. They didn’t speak to each other but enjoyed each other’s company. Hailey came with dinner for her and Will which they mercilessly teased Jay about. As the night fell, Will decided to go home that night, knowing Hailey would call him if anything happened. They talked until they both decided to settle down to sleep. As Hailey was about to doze off, Jay’s voice startled her awake.

“Hailey. Hailey?”

“I’m here, what do you need?” She said standing up.

“I don’t know how to ask this. But, I’m wide awake. And I thought maybe it was because I’m used to sleeping with you at home. I - I don’t know- I - can you lay with me. Please?” Jay held his breath waiting for the answer. Hailey carefully sat down on the edge of his bed.

“You just had surgery, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. And if you do, I’ll tell you” Hailey gave him a look, knowing he probably wouldn’t.

“I promise.”

“Scoot over, then. My ass is not that tiny.” Jay smiled and complied.

She fit right next to him, her warmth was comforting as he put an arm around her. She avoided touching his neck and instead scooted down enough to put her head on his chest.

“Your sweatshirt smells good.” He whispered.

“Mmm… it smells like hospitals.”

“It smells like you. Perfect.”

“Oh shut up.” They both chuckled at his cheesiness.

“I had to try.” He said, pulling the blanket up.

“Nice blanket.” Hailey commented, noticed the logo.

“Yeah, Will got it for me years ago for Christmas or something.”

“This year I think I’ll get you bubble wrap for Christmas. And that way, you’ll have an extra layer of padding when you go out in the field.”

“Oh really? I can’t wait.” Hailey snickered and rolled her eyes.

“All I want for Christmas is for you to be safe.”

“That would be nice. Stop having to be in hospitals.”

“Why do you hate them so much?”

“Uh-Afghanistan. I uh- injured my back- broke a few vertebrae. Spent five weeks in a hospital in Kandahar.”

“That’s where you were stationed?”

“No, I was actually stationed in the Korengal valley. But it was the closest hospital.”

Hailey set a hand on Jay’s chest.

“You don’t have to talk about it, but was that after the explosion?” Jay nodded silently.

“It was scary, and unfamiliar and everything just seemed so uncertain. I woke up and I couldn’t walk for close to six months.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. I mean, it was horrible. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever been through. But it’s over now. It’s healed. I’m just grateful that I can walk.”

“The more I know about you, the more I realize that I have no clue who you really are.” Jay immediately caught on that she was quoting him.

“Good, my plan is working.” He quoted her without skipping a beat. He squeezed her closer.

“Goodnight, Hailey Ann ‘hopefully in the future Halstead’”

“Oh my gosh, goodnight, Jay ‘I love saying the cheesiest stuff to my girlfriend’ Halstead.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 79

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

With the addition of several armed guards to patrol and secure the outside perimeter and Rata offering to take ‘first watch’ outside the bedroom door. He’s able to step out for some fresh air. He needs to get his head back in the game’ stop thinking and reacting emotionally and start looking at things -and coming up with solutions- from the viewpoint of a mercenary. It’s difficult; separating the two when it’s your own family are the ones being targeted. Damn near impossible, in fact. Both the anger and fear are profound; the mere thought of someone even planning on hurting his wife and children  stokes the fire of rage and the need for revenge. It’s so easy to LET your emotions run things when the people you love...who you’ve spent years busting your ass to protect...will be the ones to suffer immensely if they fall into the wrong hands.  He’s hardened and experienced, but he’s not dead inside. That had been proven when he HAD managed to fall in love with someone. What he’d thought had long shrivelled up and perished inside of him had just been lying dormant; waiting for that one moment...that one person...who was strong enough to break down the walls and tear through the broken, tattered mess he’d made of himself. And maybe he HAD known it right from the start;  how livid he’d been when she’d intentionally ignored him and put herself in danger as sign that things were changing. That HE was changing. He’d certainly felt it the first time he’d kissed her; the way her body eagerly and excitedly responded to his, the desperation in which she’d kissed him back and never once hesitated when it quickly turned into something much more intense.  

It had been fear that held the feelings...held HIM...back. Scared of hurting her; worried that once she saw him...the real him...she’d be frightened off by all his issues and demons and she’d leave him a bigger mess than before. Mostly, he’d thought she deserved better than him; a soldier   for hire with addiction addiction issues, a lifetime of bad decisions, and a propensity to destroy everything he touched.  But she’d hung in there. Willingly putting her own life on the line to save his and sticking by his side; both after Dhaka and through all the bullshit and problems he brought her way through years. Remaining loyal and faithful no matter how hard times got, and never looking at him like he was garbage or a total failure.  How do you NOT get emotional when the one person who loves you more than life itself...who’d helped you create five incredible little human beings...is the one with a target on their back? When you know all the horrible, vile things that will be done to her if the wrong people get a hold of her? How do you stop thinking and reacting with your heart when that someone IS your whole heart?

His brain hurts. It’s weary. Muddle. Frustrated.  Overrun by multiple and equally powerful emotions. Anger. Guilt. Regret. His heart broken over the realization that he’d once again gone back on a promise and deeply wounded her. It seems to be commonplace. Inadvertently hurting her and his own stubbornness and hang ups making the situation even worse and then having to grovel his way to forgiveness. But this time it’s different. He’s crossed the line before; gone back on his word and disappointed her. But he’s never completely trampled it. At least not until now. She’s confronted him about the same issues before; given him warnings and ultimatums that had seemed serious at the time.  But none of those had ever seemed this dire. This FINAL. It wasn’t just in the words and the thinly veiled threats, but in the tone of her voice; the frustration and anger, the disappointment and vehemence. It was in those wild, unhinged eyes and in every single gesture of her hands and the way her entire body trembled. She’s finally reached her breaking point; if he doesn’t  get clean...if he doesn’t commit himself to it...she WILL leave. It isn’t just a threat. She’s strong and tenacious and while she doesn’t want to raise the kids alone, she’ll bite the bullet and do it. Everything she said had been true; all her points and arguments valid even if they had damaged his entire soul. He deserved it. Every single word. And as much as it hurts, he knows the pain he’s caused is a hell of a lot worse.

He glances over his shoulder as the screen door slides open; giving Koen a simple nod in greeting before turning his attention back to the dark of night and the glass of whisky clutched in his hand. He’d needed something to take the edge off; both the pain and the need for the long discarded pill just shy of unbearable.  But he’s been sipping at for nearly an hour and it hasn’t made a dent; each swallow tasting more putrid than the last. It’s the disgust he feels; sickened by how quick he’d fallen back into old habits and how easily those habits had been able to control him.

“Things are looking okay in there,” Koen says, taking a swig of his beer before taking a seat beside him on the back patio’s top step.  “All if quiet. Just the way we want it.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“How’s things out here?”’ He shrugs. “As good as they get when you’re surrounded by armed guards, I guess.”

“Well that’s all fine and dandy, but what I was really talking about was you. How are YOU doing?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Not sure I’m doing to be honest.”

“It’s a hell of a thing; the bear just showing up like that.”

Tyler scoffs. “That’s an understatement.”

“I don’t get why the hell anyone would do something like that. Get kids involved. A baby, at that. Takes someone pretty sick and twisted to justify dragging little ones into adult problems. They got an issue with you, that’s who they should be taken it up with. Leave the kiddos out of it.”

“It’s not really about the kids. It’s about using them to get to me. Because they know it’s what will break me; anything happening to my wife and kids.”

“They’re making it THAT personal?”

“They know they can’t break me any other way. They know they won’t be able to beat me out on the street or hand to hand. They know they have to weaken me first. And that’s exactly what they’re trying to do.”

“You sure of that? Because they got awfully close to that baby.”

“They would have taken her if they wanted her. They had every chance to grab her. They weren’t planning on hurting her. It’s all about fucking with my head. All the threats, all the sick and twisted shit they said they’d do to Esme and the kids...especially the girls...it’s all about screwing me up. And I gotta give them credit I guess; it’s working.”

“Come on,” Koen nudges him with his elbow. “You’re tougher stuff than that. You don’t break easy; if at all. Just take it from the source.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried? You don’t think I’ve tried drilling that into my head? That it’s all just words and I shouldn’t let them get to me? I HAVE tried. I’ve tried ignoring it and I’ve tried considering where it’s coming but. But every time I look at my wife or I think about my kids, all that creeps into my head is what’s been said. What I've been told will happen to them. You can’t love someone that much and just ignore it and act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“I’m not saying don’t let it bother you. I’m saying don’t let it bother you as much as it is.”

“That’s my family they’re talking about. My wife. My kids. I can’t just turn off how I feel about them. And I find it a little hard to take advice from a guy with two failed marriages under his belt.”

“You keep going like you are and YOU’RE going to have two failed ones.  Or is that what you’re trying to do? Fuck yourself to the point she’ll say ‘enough’s enough’ and just walk out.’

Tyler scowls. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“You sure about that? First the meds, now you’re drinking too? You’re just pissing it all away, aren’t you. You’ve got a good thing...a damn good thing...and you don’t even appreciate it.”

“Is that why you came out here? To ride my ass? To make me feel like complete and utter shit?”

“You’re an ungrateful fuck, you know that? You get a second chance; you find someone that loves you despite all your bullshit, despite your past and your fucking job. Someone that sticks by you no matter what. And this is how you her? You shit all over her? And those kids? How fucking dare you do that to her.”

“How fucking dare YOU come out here with this bullshit,” Tyler angrily counters. “You have no clue what you’re even talking about. You have no idea what went down here today. How close she was to walking out of her. How close I came to losing my entire family.”

“What are you talking about? What…?”

“I’m drinking because I’m not on the meds anymore. Because I flushed them. And because I’m in so much fucking pain, I could put a gun in my mouth. Because I need something...anything...to numb this shit.”

Koen frowns “Don’t talk like that. Don’t talk stupid shit. About putting a gun in your mouth. Don’t…”

“There’s where I am. I’m right fucking there. I’m tired. I’m tired of the pain and I’m tired of all this bullshit and I’m tired of being away from my kids. This has to stop; the pain, this crap with Mahajan. It’s all gotta stop. Because I can’t keep going like this; I can’t keep living like this. I just can’t. It’s breaking me. And she deserves better than that. So do my kids.”

“And you think ending it would make things better for them? It would make things worse. They need you. A clean and sober you.”

“And I’m gonna get clear. Which is why I flushed the meds. It was them or her. I chose her.”

“She found out?”

“Yeah,” Tyler nods and takes a swallow of whiskey. “She found out.”

“How?”

“I was pretty messed up when she got back. The point I didn’t even remember her calling me when you just got done.”

“Jesus,” Koen mutters. “How many of those pills did you take?”

“Too many. I don't know if I was still high from them  or if I  was borderline OD’ing or if I was going through withdrawal. But I was fucked up and it was easy for her to figure out what was going on. She’s seen me like that before. Way too many times. More than I want to admit. “

“What happened?”

“She lost it. Rightfully so. Said a lot of things that hurt like hell but I needed to hear. About how it was her breaking point and I needed to get my shit together once and for all.”

“And yet she’s STILL here.”

“All that...all the times I’ve hurt her and I’ve broken promises and I’ve been a complete fuck up...and she says she still loves me. She just can’t live with an addict; can’t have the kids around that. And she’s right; she DOES deserve better than that and so do they.  So that’s why I flushed the pills.  Because losing them would cause a hell of a lot more pain than what I’m going through right now.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to smarten the hell up. I’m going to go see the doctor; find out what’s going on with my body and get it fixed. I’ll go to rehab if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my family together. To be the man that she needs. That she deserves. I’ll stop at nothing to make that happen.”

Koen nods slowly, then turns attention to the beer in his hands. Draining it in a handful of long sips before setting the empty bottle on the step below. “You really thought she was going to leave?”

“I did. And it scared the shit out of me. I’ve already spent months away from him. And that was my doing too. You think I would have learned my lesson the first time.”

“What did you do? Get on your knees and beg?”

“Believe me, I would have done it if it had gotten to that point. I’m not above begging. But she said she couldn’t leave; not in the middle of all this. Said she wouldn’t leave me alone to deal with it by myself. Said she couldn’t do that to me.”

“Gotta give her credit; even pissed off and raging, she still loves your ass.”

“Nothing’s stopping her from leaving when we get back though.  And she’s got every right to leave me. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. But it would fucking kill me. Because she’d walk out and she’d take my kids and I don’t think there’s anything I’d be able to do to get them back.”

“Sounds like you got your work cut out for you,” Koen muses. “And if you’re willing to put the work in..”

“I'm willing to do whatever it takes...whatever I have to...to make sure I don’t lose her.”

“If you really think she’s fixin’ to leave, you have to do whatever it takes to change her mind. Make sure you prove to her that it’s a one off. That this isn’t the way you want to be. And I know it isn’t; I know this isn’t how you want to be.”

“I just want the pain gone. I NEED it gone. And I thought if I could just use the meds until I got home, I could see a doctor and find out what’s wrong and get it fixed. I thought I’d just be able to stop and never touch them again.”

“You know that’s horseshit, right? You’re an addict; whether you like to hear that or not. You are. And that’s the kind of choices and decisions you can’t be making. And honestly? I think it’s a good thing she caught on this soon. Imagine if it had gone on longer? How deep would you have been into it? I would have been a hell of a lot messier, that’s for sure. She’s a tough little shit, ain’t she.”

Tyler nods. “Tougher than she gives herself credit for. Probably the toughest person I know.”

Koen scowls. “I’ll try not to be offended by that.”

Tyler smirks, then polishes off the last of his drink.

“Your girl was impressive today, by the way. The way she kept her cool on the bridge, how she handled the guy in the market, how she took seeing that little prick that shot ya.”

“What’s the chances of that even happening? That she’d see him?”

“She’s got quite the hate on for him. Wouldn’t put it past her to kill him with her bare hands. But she did good today. Real good. You should be proud of her.”

“I’m proud of her every day, mate. For a whole lot of different reasons.”

Koen smiles, then playfully tousles Tyler’s hair. “So what now? We just wait? Hope they call?”

“That's about it. I was hoping it would have happened by now, but…” he shrugs. “You know, part of me...a huge part...just wants to say ‘fuck it, let someone else deal with it’; just get the hell out of here and get my kids and go home. Get someone else to do the dirty work.”

“But…”

“But that would look like I’m running scared. And I’m not. I’m not scared of those little bastards. I’ve handled bigger and better. Only thing I’m worried about is my family; getting them the hell out of this mess. That’s all that matters.”

“You know, there probably are people who could get this shit done.”

“Maybe.  But I  gave Anil my word; that I’d be the one to to do this. I can’t back out now. Especially after the Fredrick thing.”

Koen frowns “Fredrick? Who’s Fredrick?”

“The bear. Do you not know the story of the bear?”

“Do I need to?”

“I bought him for Millie when she was born. She was like half an hour old and I went downstairs to start calling people and letting them know about her, and there was this bear in the window of the gift shop. And Esme hadn’t been in Australia very long and she was all about koalas so I bought the damn thing. It became this joke; every time we took Millie on a road trip somewhere, we’d bring the bear with us. So wherever we went, we’d take a picture of him and then we got home, Esme would print it off. She ended up making a scrapbook with all the pictures; gave it to Millie on her third birthday.”

“Okay, I know I have a cold, dead heart, but that is some seriously adorable shit.”

“Millie took that damn bear everywhere. Slept with it every night. And she started talking, she named him Patrick.”

“I thought his name was Fredrick?”

“It is.  He became Fredrick. After Addie was born, Millie gave him to her because she was happy to finally have a sister. She gave Addie the bear and suddenly his name was Fredrick.  I don’t know, mate. I don’t know why the hell that kid does the things she does. So yeah, that’s the story of Patrick. Or Fredrick. Or whatever the hell his name is.”

“And someone just took it?”

“Right out of the crib. Esme said she put it right next to her; that they would have to reach over her to get it. Someone was right there; right fucking there. Right across the goddamn hall form us. And I didn’t hear a thing. They went in there and I didn’t even know it.”

“You were asleep,” Koen reasons. “How could you have known? If they were creeping around…”

“Where were my instincts? They’re the one thing I could always count on; my gut picking up on something that’s wrong or someone that’s shady. But there was nothing. I didn’t suspect a single one of those people. How fucking pathetic is that? I do the job I do...I protect complete strangers...and I couldn’t even protect my kid and  I was right across the hall.”

“They probably worked hard so you wouldn’t suspect a thing.” Koen says. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. There’s no way you could have prevented it.”

“I was fifteen feet away. IF that,” Tyler shakes his head in disbelief. “And they got close to my kid. How do I NOT blame  myself?”

*****

An hour later he joins her in the bedroom; setting a bowl of ice cream down on the bedside table and then leaning over to peck her lips. Chuckling when she grabs him by the front of the shirt and yanks him down or something longer; his hand coming to rest on the mattress to avoid losing his balance and landing on top of her.

“What’s that for?” Esme inquires, nodding at the bowl as she pushes herself up into a sit.

“Peace offering.”

“I wasn’t aware you needed one. I thought we weren’t fighting anymore.”

“Guess it’s to guarantee we DON’T start up again.”

“No fighting, I promise. The last thing I want to do is fight with you. I didn’t want to fight with you in the first place.”

“Eat your ice cream,” Tyler gently orders, then drops a kiss on the top of her head before retreating to a nearby chair; wincing as he slowly lowers himself into it.

She watches him, an eyebrow arched and the spoon pressed to her lips. “Back?”

“Everything.”

“You didn’t have to flush the pills. I didn’t want you to stop taking them entirely; I wanted you to take them responsibly. It was kind of hasty; getting rid of them like that. I don’t want you to suffer.”

“I’ll be alright. It’s not that bad. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

“If it wasn’t that bad, you wouldn’t have resorted to taking so many. Why don’t you call Anil’s doctor? Ask or something else; something that will actually work and you won’t have to go overboard.”

“At this point, I probably can’t even be trusted with over the counter shit. I’ll be okay. I’ll deal with it for the rest of the time we’re here, then when we get home, I’ll get the doctor to fix me up.”

“Who knows how long THAT will be. I don’t want you suffering. That’s not what I wanted at all. I just didn’t want it getting out of hand. Not like before. And it scared me; seeing you like that today. Because I remember what it was like the last time it got out of control. And  that nearly destroyed us.  And I don’t want it destroying us.”

“It won’t,” Tyler assures her. “That’s why I got rid of them. I had to. I didn’t trust myself with them.”

“But now I feel like shit. Because I know how bad things have gotten. You barely sleep and when you do you’re restless and never really at peace. Half the time you don’t eat properly. And I know about your hand; I see you struggling to use it sometimes. Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. You’ve got enough going on.”

“I’m going to worry about you regardless. So you might as well just tell me about these things. Is there anything I can do? You want me to get an ice pack or a heating pad or I can massage it? Or maybe you can take a hot shower or a hot bath…”

“You need to stop. I’m fine.”

“Want some ice cream?”

“Regardless of what you think, it doesn’t solve everything.”

“I’m trying here, okay? I feel like shit. You dumped all those pills. For me.”

“I dumped them for me. So I wouldn’t lose my entire life. I’ll deal with it. I’ll get shit done here, we’ll go home, and I’ll get it all looked at. Okay?”

“Okay,” Esme reluctantly agrees, then turns her attention to the bowl of ice cream in her hands.

The silence that follows is comfortable. Companionable. Still existing after seven years; content just to be in one another’s presence. It was something they’d discovered right off the bat; a quiet, comfy ease with one another as opposed to having to fill the minutes with mindless chit chat. He takes the opportunity to rest her eyes; legs stretched out in front of him, hands clasped together and resting on his stomach. Actual sleep will be a rare commodity. The arrival of Fredrick and the unspoken messages accompanying him combined with the anticipation of a call from Asif’s people, have his senses on high alert.  Expecting the arrival of a threat, but hoping it never comes. It’s good to be prepared; keeping your guard up at all times and always assuming trouble could be just around the corner of lurking in the shadows.

The faint clinking of the spoon against the side of the bowl captures his attention; followed by the dish being placed on the nightstands and the sound of her clothes brushing against the sheets as she stretches out in bed. And when he opens his eyes and glances over, she’s flat on her back with her t-shirt pulled up to just above her navel, and the waist of her pyjama bottoms resting across her pubic bone. Eyes fixated on the ceiling as she runs her hands slowly over the sides and the top of her ever growing bump.

“What are you doing?”

“Just feeling the bump,”  Esme  says. “It’s bigger when I lie down. Does it look big?”

“I think it looks cute.”

“Do you have a pregnant woman fetish I don’t know about?” she teases.

“Only if the pregnant woman is my wife.”

“It’s weird to be showing this soon. It’s bigger, right? Than all the other ones at this stage? Does it look bigger?”

“I guess. I don’t know. Seems about the same as when you were having the boys.”

“You just HAD to put that out into the universe.”

“You asked me if it was like the others. I said yes; it looks like when you were pregnant with the twins.  Don’t ask if you don’t really want an answer.”

“It’s growing on me. Both figuratively AND literally.”

He gives a small laugh; minutes passing by as he watches her. Contentment sparkling in her eyes as he palms continue to move over her bump.  

A grin is tugging at the corners of her mouth when she turns her head towards him. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“I’m not staring. I’m admiring.”

“Why are you admiring me like that, then?”

“Because you’re beautiful. And I love you.”

It’s the first smile...genuine smile...that he’s seen on her face in days. Maybe even weeks. All of the stress and the worry and heartache briefly lifting; lips curving softly, eyes glittering in the soft glow given off by the bedside lamp. And when she rolls onto her side and reaches out for him, he doesn’t hesitate; leaning forward in the chair and taking her hand in his own and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. And in that moment, when she pulls away ever so slowly and her nails skim over his palm and along his fingers, he’s filled with a sense of hope. There’s love in her eyes. A tenderness and affection that nearly takes his breath away.

“I was thinking…” she says, as she scrunches her pillow up under her cheek and wraps both arms around it. “...we should probably add onto the house. We have a lot of space to work with and we’d still have tons of land left over.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking a couple more bedrooms; one for the baby and one for guests. An ACTUAL office considering we’re going to be running a business. Maybe another two or three car garage that we can use to store all the gear and other job related stuff. A bigger and better gym. You’ve been talking about that since we moved in.”

“Whatever you want, baby. Just make a list and we’ll get it done.”

“And Millie and the two T’s are asking for animals. They miss the goats and the chickens.  So if we could build something to keep them in…”

“If that’s what they want, I’ll get it done.”

“You’ve very agreeable. Not even a single roll of the eyes or those wrinkles you get when you frown. Are you drunk? Sometimes you’re a very mellow drunk.”

“No. I’m not drunk. I just think it all sounds reasonable. And if that’s what you want to do, we’ll do it. Make a list and we’ll start on things when we get back.”

“I like that you’re being optimistic; about getting out of here and going home.  Because you will; get out of here and go home.”

“We’ll know that for sure soon enough.”

“I already know for sure. I know you; I know you’ll stop at nothing to get out of there. You don’t give up. You don’t know the meaning of ‘give up’. And you what else I was thinking?”

“Your brain’s been busy.”

“I was thinking we really should go away. An actual trip. Alone. Just us. I think we deserve it. And need it.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere exotic. Somewhere tropical.”

“You don’t get enough sand and water at home?”

“As much as I love where we are, it’s different when you go away. I was thinking like Bali or Bora Bora or The Maldives. Stay in one of those suites that are built right on the water. That would be nice. AND romantic.”

“Romantic? Have we met?”

“You’re romantic in your own way. You just don’t do grand gestures or make a spectacle out of things. Which makes it even better. Other guys, you know it’s coming. With you, it’s always a surprise. It’s genuine. Just one of the many things I love about you.”

“You gonna make a list of those things, too?”

“If you want me to. If it would cheer up. I’ll do it if it will cheer you up.”

“Your smile is enough to do that. There hasn’t been a lot to smile about lately, has there.”

“It’s been...difficult.”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“You look so tired. You sound tired.”

“I am,” Tyler admits. “Tired. In a lot of ways.”

“It’ll get better.  When we get home and you see the doctor and they figure out what’s going on with you. Get it all fixed up. It will force you to slow down for a little while. And you need to. Slow down.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m old?”

“I’m insinuating that you’re human. And that you need to step back and let other people bust their asses. It doesn’t have to be you all the time. Just stay home and run things. Delegate. Don’t take everything on yourself. Because you’ll burn out and I don’t want that happening. I know you think I hate you right now. Because of our fight earlier and everything I said.”

“I don’t think you hate me. I think you hate that side of me.  The one that’s so fucking weak that he gets sucked back into the same old shit.”

“You’re not weak, Tyler. There’s nothing remotely weak about you. And hate is a strong word. I don’t hate that side. It disappoints me.”

“Okay, you know what? That’s even worse.”

“But I love you. And I just want you better. That’s it.  I just want you better. I don’t like seeing you like this. Not just the pain, but everything.  I know you’re tired; I know you’re probably ready to just give up. But I need you to keep going.  Our kids need you to keep going. Little bean needs that too. It won’t be much longer. It’ll be over soon.”

“I hope so, baby. I really do. Because I don’t know how much more I can take. It’s fucking breaking me down. And that’s what they want. They want to break my mind before they break my body. And it’s working.”

“They know what would hurt you the most,” she concludes. “What WILL break you.  Anything to do with me or the kids. They know we’re your weaknesses.”

“Just proves it’s someone close to us. That knows us. Knows me.”

“I’m not ruling Nathan out. There’s something very sketchy about him.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“Do you think it could be Nik? Do you think it’s possible she’s working with him? Maybe they’re more involved than just fuck buddies or whatever she claims they are.”

“I want to say she wouldn’t do something like that, but nothing would surprise me anymore.”

“Just be careful. Err on the side of caution. Assume everyone we know could be in on it. That way no one will take you by surprise.”

He grins. “Are you telling me how to do my job?”

“No. I’m just a paranoid wife. Who’s worried about you. Who loves you. And who really wants you alive and in one piece at the end of all this. Don’t trust anyone.”

“Present company excluded, obviously.”

“Obviously. I mean, you’re the only person I trust.”

“I think I’ve  proven a few times that you shouldn’t.”

“Your issues don’t make me trust you any less. Because I know you’d do anything to keep me safe. I never never doubted that. You’re the only one who has ever made me feel safe. I can’t see that ever changing.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know. And I wish I could do the same for you. Protect you.”

“You do. In your own way.”

“Maybe,” she sighs, and rolls over onto her back once more, a hand resting on either side of her bump.

“Could you do me a favour?”

She looks over at him.

“Can you pull your pants up? It’s distracting me.”

Esme grins. “Maybe you need a distraction.”

“Not THAT kind of distraction.”

“I’m offended,” she pouts. “It hurts my feelings that I can pull my pants down and you don’t jump on it. Or me,”

“Trust me, I want to. I just can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m technically on the clock.”

“That’s suddenly a problem? Do I need to remind you about seven years ago? When we were both on the clock?”

“This is different.”

“How?”  

“Because I’m trying to protect you.”

“You were technically supposed to be protecting me then, too.”

“Not the way I am now.”

“You can’t take a few minutes out of your time and oblige me?”

Tyler frowns. “A few minutes? Now I’M offended.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you can spare half an hour. What’s going to happen? You’re RIGHT here. Koen and Rata are downstairs, there’s all kinds of armed guards wandering around.  You don’t need to constantly watch over me.”

“Can you please pull your pants up?”

She heaves a heavy, dramatic sigh, then obliges.

“And I DO have to watch over you. They were able to get to Addie and I was right across the hall.”

“So was I,” Esme points out. “I didn’t hear anything either.”

“But I should have. What a fucking time for my instincts to take a dump.”

“You were asleep. Your instincts were at rest. You’re really not blaming yourself, are you? Tell me you don’t think this is your fault. Tell me.”

“I should have heard something. Or at least picked up something before that.”

“Tyler, you have to be kidding me right now. It is in no way your fault. Not in the slightest.”

“Hard not to blame myself.”

“Well stop. You told me not to blame myself.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“And neither did you. You were asleep. You didn’t think there’d be a reason to watch over her. So stop…” she sits up and swings her legs over the side of the top, pulling her t-shirt down as she stands and saunters over. “...just stop.”

He grins as she perches herself on his lap, arms circling his neck. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to distract you.” She presses a series of feathery kisses along his jaw and onto his ear, tracing the outer edge with the top of her tongue. “Is it working?”

“Yeah…” His hands grip her hips, pulling her tight against him; raising his hips so she can feel the beginning of his erection straining against his jeans. “...it’s working.”

“Good…” she giggles, and pulls back to look at him. “...I really AM a distraction.”

“Yep. You are.”

“I think you should come to bed. At least for a little while.”

“You know it’ll be longer than five minutes, yeah?”

She grins and presses a kiss to his lips. “It better be.”

[mrs-mikko-rantanen]

Officer MacClyde and Detective Ferret //Part 1

1,752 words. I’m not sold on the series title, so if anyone has any other ideas, let me know and I’ll try it on for size! Also let me know if you want me to add you to the taglist. There isn’t one right now, but we can always fix that.

Ewan sat down at the squadroom table, sighing happily as he put his feet up on it, leaning back, his fingers crossed behind his head. It was his first day back at work after a few weeks leave for medical reasons, and he was glad to be back. Although he would forever deny the fact, he was a workaholic, to the bone. It had been nice to have a few days off, getting to catch up on sleep (which he honestly only did because of the pain meds that he was on,) getting to spend time with his little brothers who he rarely got to see, and Avanada had even gotten a few days off as well, which they had spent in total bliss.

    “Hey welcome back, MacClyde.” Ewan smiled and nodded politely to Mike Landson, one of his co-workers, as he set a to-go cup of coffee down in front of him, “Heard you took a pretty bad hit a few days ago. Undercover work?”

    Ewan couldn’t exactly tell his brothers-in-arms about his Renegade activities, so when he got hurt on a mission, he just said it was ‘undercover work.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie, and it wasn’t out of character either. He had a reputation as a good undercover officer, and it wasn’t at all uncommon for him to disappear from the station for days on end, only to reappear with some crook in tow and a few broken ribs.

    Ewan nodded, “Yeah, pretty bad. Three bullets, one knife to the stomach.” He said, tapping a finger over each one of his injuries as he listed them. 

    Landson let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “That bullet proof vest’s gotta feel just amazing over all of that.”

    Ewan laughed a little, grinning at him, “Yeah, like kittens, it’s amazing.”

    “MacClyde!” The short bark from the sergeant rang through the hall before he rounded the corner into the squad room. Ewan quickly pulled his feet down from the table, ready to stand up, “You’ve got a visitor.”

    Ewan frowned. It wasn’t unusual for Avanda to stop by the station while he was working, but right after he had clocked in? That seemed a little out of place.

    Sergeant Matthews read the confusion on Ewan’s face and his scowl deepened. “In the jail, MacClyde. Been drying out in there since last night.”

    Ewan heaved a sigh as the pieces clicked into place. “Oh.”

********

    Ewan’s teeth ground together as he stopped in front of the cell. Ferret laid on the cot in the corner, whistling Goody Two Shoes to himself.

    “What are you doing here?” Ewan asked, crossing his arms in front of him. 

    Ferret looked over at him, a grin spreading across his face. “Ah, Officer MacClyde! Welcome back! Feeling better are we?”

    Ewan said nothing, raising an eyebrow at Ferret as he stood and walked across the cell, leaning his forearms on the cell bars.

    “Did you get my flowers?” The tall smuggler asked, a wickedly teasing look scrawled across his face.

    “What’re you doing here?” Ewan asked again.

    Ferret’s grin widened again, something Ewan hadn’t thought was possible. “Workin’ a case.” He said with a wink. “You hear anything about the incident on the fifth since you got back?”

    Ewan scowled, “I just clocked in ten minutes ago, I haven’t even been to briefing yet.”

    “Didn’t check your work emails while you were gone?  Too busy with Avanda, were you?” 

    Ewan’s blood boiled a little at the comment. “You know, I was going to let you out. But for that, I’m gonna leave you down here ’till I’m done in briefing. You aren’t sober yet.”

    “Aw, Ewan.” Ferret laughed, “When am I ever sober?”

********

    “You can’t keep doing this.” Ewan snapped as Ferret lead the way to the squadroom, plopping down in the chair Ewan had been in earlier, “I have a reputation as a good officer, y’know?” 

    Ferret spun the chair around in circles, ignoring Ewan. “Mikey! You got any gum?”

    Landson tossed Ferret a stick of gum, then hit another officer on the arm, palm outstretched as he nodded over to Ferret. The other officer heaved a sigh, swore, then dug out his wallet, handing Landson a twenty dollar bill. 

    “What were you doing on the case?” Ewan asked, glaring at Ferret as he popped his gum.

    “Solving it.”

    Ewan rolled his eyes again, heaving another sigh. “Fine. What information have you got on it?”

    Ferret spun the chair again. “What information have you got on it, MacClyde?”

    I could shoot him. Ewan thought, Hardest part would be finding somewhere to hide the freakishly tall body.

    “Drug deal gone bad.” Landson said, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms. “Two gangs met up to do the deal, survivors said there was a lot of shouting, confusion, and then the bomb went off; no shots fired.”

    Ferret winked and clicked his tounge, flashing Landson with a set of double finger guns. “Exactly. ‘No shots fired.’ Pay attention to that, MacClyde, that’s gonna be big in a second here. Now, Mikey, do we know which gangs these druggies were tied to?”

    Landson frowned as he ran through the case in his mind. “Uh, Wild Ones and the Ravagers, I think?”

    “Right again!” Ferret smiled, waving a hand to Landson, “You must have gotten excellent grades in school.”

    Landson smiled and shrugged, starting to open his mouth to reply. Ewan smacked him on the back of the head, not taking his eyes off of Ferret for a second.

    “So? Those two are always at each other’s throats. That’s not exactly unusual.” Ewan said as Landson rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head.

    “Right! But remember that little tidbit about no shots being fired? Just an explosion taking out guys from both sides?” Ferret asked, raising his eyebrows. “Who else do we know that wants both the Wild Ones and the Ravagers out of the game?”

    “Everyone, Ferret. They all want them out of the game.” Ewan said, exasperated, “That’s kinda what gangs do to each other: blow each other up.”

    “Big picture, MacClyde, big picture!” Ferret yelled, smacking his hand on the table, “They didn’t shoot each other, so there must have been a third party involved. There was a lot of confusion, no one knew what was going on, so there must have been a third party involved.” He stopped, leaning on the table, looking at Ewan expectantly. When Ewan just shrugged and shook his head, Ferret’s head dropped to the table. “See, and you must have gotten terrible grades at school.” He muttered. “Ok, small pictures then, and you can connect them with little bits of yarn. Who do we know that doesn’t like the Wild Ones, who do we know that doesn’t like the Ravagers, and who do we know that does like explosions?”

    “You?” Ewan asked, an eyebrow raised.

    Ferret nodded, “Alright, that’s true. But who else?”

    Ewan went through the list of cases and gangs he had worked on and then it clicked. “Alex Barone?”

    Ferret stood up explosively, slamming a hand down on the table. “Alex Barone!”

    “Oh give me a break!” Ewan said, rolling his eyes, “You don’t really  think he’s responsible for this, you just want a chance to catch him!”

    “So?!” Ferret said, tossing his hands in the air, “Don’t you? The guy is a pain in the ass, how many cases of your’s has he totally wrecked because he found a way to make evidence unusable?”

    Ewan shook his head, “Of course I want to get him for that, but what evidence do you have, really?”

    Ferret blinked at him, confusion and disbelief written across his face. “What evidence do I--were, were you not listening? Did you not pay attention to anything I just went over? How did you graduate?”

Ewan rolled his eyes. The repeated action was starting to give him a headache. “Hunches. Hunches and gut feelings.”

Ferret threw his hands into the air exasperatedly, “So?! You’re the one who’s always saying to trust your gut!” He spat mockingly, “Why won’t you trust this one?”

“Because I think you’re just looking for an excuse to nab him, that way you can say that you’ve won.”

Ferret frowned. “What?”

“C’mon. Admit it. You’re just trying to get him. This is what, the forth case that you’ve tied him to this year?”

Ferret leaned across the table, pointing a gloved finger angrily at Ewan’s face. “He was tied to the Hamilton case, and you know it.” He hissed, “Why he didn’t get jail time for that--”

Ewan sighed. “He has contacts, higher up in the system than we can do anything about.”

“So do I!” Ferret said, “I have you! And I still end up behind bars once a week…”

“Well now who’s fault is that? Really?”

“...And I help you catch other bad guys!”

Ewan shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. “Look, I trust you Ferret. It’s just...this isn’t ...concrete. If I go to my superiors with this, they’re gonna be hard pressed to let me look into it anyway, but once they hear you’re who I’m getting the tip from? Even less likely.”

    Ferret flopped back into the desk chair, sending it rolling backwards about a foot as he crossed his arms and pouted.

    “Look. You come back here with some evidence, some real evidence, and I’ll think about passing the information on.” Ewan said, shrugging. 

    “I believe him.” Landson said with a shrug. Ewan turned a withering glare to the other officer and Ferret clapped his hands, nodding to Landson excitedly. “I mean, how many times is he actually wrong about this sort of thing?”

    “Plenty.” Ewan said.

    Landson shrugged again. “All I’m saying is that I think it may be worth looking into. Just in case.”

    Ewan shrugged again. “Alright, fine. I’ll talk to Sarge when I get back from patrol. But if this turns out to be one of his stupid hunches gone wrong, you’re taking some of the heat too, Mike.” He grabbed his jacket and keys, then motioned for Ferret to come with him. “C’mon. I’m on patrol today. You may as well ride along.”

    Ferret rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Excellent. Can we stop and get some fries? I’m really craving fries.”

    “After last time you ate in my squad car? No.”

    “C’mon, it wasn’t that bad.”

    “My car smelled like old tennis shoes for a month, Ferret. No food.”

[playedwright]

Holsom for 51?

51. “You make me feel alive.”

prompt from this list if anyone wants to send me more i’m apparently in a Zone!!

this is my second time writing holsom and it ended up being 1.5k words i ?? this got semi out of hand so ! more below the cut !!

*

Early morning practices are, in Holster’s humble opinion, usually the worst thing ever.

The only time he finds them acceptable are on the days they’re in here before the sun even rises. Even though it’s an ungodly time to be awake and exercising, it means they’re done before the sun rises, and it means he and Ransom can usually hang out and watch as the pinks and yellows break over the skyline and spill across the ice.

Holster values these mornings over most other things, now more than ever. Co-captaincy has given them these mornings, and it has given Holster a thousand more reasons to fall hard and fast for Ransom.

Not that he needed any convincing in that area. He’s always been lurking around it, if he’s being honest.

Things have been teetering between them recently. Always on the edge of friendship or something more. Holster knows they’ve always toed the line; hell, they made a joke out of it their sophomore year, after the fifth time in one week someone had asked if they were dating. Holster knows they’ve always been flirty and touchy and close. And of course, there was always that kegster from their frog year—

Well. They don’t talk about that.

But the point still stands. Things have been teetering.

Holster eases himself down on the bench after he sees Nursey and Chowder finally exit the rink. His skate hits the wall when he stretches out his leg. He only has two seconds to himself before Ransom joins him on the bench and sits down right next to him.

They’re so close their arms are brushing. They’re so close that Holster is 78% sure he can feel Ransom’s actual heartbeat, even between both of their practice jerseys.

“Good run today, man,” Ransom tells him. He rolls his head back and sighs heavily. “I swear, those frogs get younger every damn year.”

“Tadpoles,” Holster reminds him. “We’re calling them taddies this year.”

Ransom swears under his breath. “Confusing as hell. What are they gonna call these toddlers next year? Eggs? There’s only so many stages in a frog’s life before it’s just a frog. Dex and Nursey and Chowder can chill, they don’t have to be the Frogs.”

“Aw, c’mon Ransy. I think it’s cute. They’re bonding.”

Ransom chuckles. He shifts his head forward until he can rest it on Adam’s shoulder. “I knew you had a secret soft spot for those kids.”

Holster rolls his eyes. “They aren’t that much younger than you, Justin.”

“Yeah, but they act like it. Were we like that when we were frogs? My god. I can’t even begin to imagine the shit we put poor Winger through. Guy probably wanted to strangle us,” Ransom groans. “I feel like I’m the father of five. Oh god, are we fathers? Fathers of twenty-two stinky, terrible, annoying hockey boys?”

“You’re being dramatic,” Holster laughs. He nudges Ransom with his elbow. “Besides. You don’t really think it’s all that bad, do you?”

Ransom opens his eyes at sits forward. Outside the windows, the sun is just barely starting to rise. They have a few minutes before color fills the rink. It’s quiet and calm. As Ransom’s face opens up to take it all in, Holster thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Nah,” Ransom admits. He turns to Holster and winks; there’s a twinkle in his eye. “I guess this kind of stuff makes it all worth it.”

It’s moments like this where he thinks maybe there’s something more happening between them. It’s moments like this where he starts to hope maybe, maybe.

He’s trying to find the courage to just say it.

This is their last season. This is their last year. Ransom could be in med school next year—hell, he could be halfway across the country somewhere next year. He’s been doing interviews alongside Holster at a lot of the same places. Plan B, he says, like he’s truly afraid he won’t get into med school. Holster knows differently. Anyone would be lucky to have Ransom.

Holster’s starting to worry he’ll never get a chance like this again.

“There’s nothing better than this rink in the morning, you know? Doesn’t it just make you feel alive?” Ransom wonders out loud.

Holster closes his eyes. One, two, three steadying breaths. Then he says, “You make me feel alive.”

Pressed against his arm, he can feel it when Ransom stiffens. Fear curls around in Holster’s stomach, piercing and hot. He wonders, with how they’re pressed together, if Ransom can feel how hard he’s shaking.

“Adam,” Ransom whispers. He sucks in a sharp breath. “Don’t fuck with me, man.”

Tears well behind Holster’s eyes, of their own accord. He keeps them squeezed shut to keep any tears from falling. He drops his head and leans forward. “I’m not,” Holster whispers. “Dude, swear on my life. Never been more serious.”

“You know you’re my best bro, Holtzy.”

Holster covers his face with his hands. He can’t stop the tears from falling, not now.

“Fuck, dude, are you crying?!”

“It’s alright,” Holster says. He must force himself to stand up because his feet are moving before he even notices it. “Bubbe would smack me if she could see me right now. ‘Adam, you must be meshuggeneh, what do you think you’re doing?’—”

It’s a poor imitation of his grandmother, and Ransom has met her enough times that Holster half-expects Rans to call him out about it. He doesn’t expect Ransom to stand up and follow him as he tries to make a break for the ice.

He doesn’t expect Ransom to grab hold of his wrist and tug him back.

He definitely doesn’t expect Ransom to look so frustrated and hopeful when Holster finally meets his gaze.

“You gotta be a hundred percent real with me right now, bro,” Ransom says. Behind him, Faber glistens as the sunrise finally begins to peek through the windows. Holster thinks it’s fitting for the moment; he’s achingly in love with Ransom, and Ransom looks heartbreakingly beautiful right now.

“I’m always a hundred percent with you, Rans,” Holster reminds him. His voice is barely a fraction of his regular volume; quieter now than it is even in the mornings when Ransom would wake up anxious and need a gentle voice to talk him down. “You know that.”

Ransom’s eyes are searching his face. Holster wonders what he’s looking for there. “I don’t know what I know anymore,” Ransom admits. “I’m fucking confused, man.”

“Shit, Justin, do you need me to spell it out for you?!” Holster snaps. “I’ve got my heart on my goddamn sleeve. I don’t know how else to offer it to you. You want a hundred percent? I’ve been halfway in love with you ever since freshman year. Completely gone on you for as long as I can remember. You’re my best friend and I would never give that up, but—dammit, Justin, sometimes you really make me wish we were more.”

“It’s been four fucking years, Adam!”

Holster drops his head. “Yeah. It’s a long time to be in love with your best friend. Can’t tell you how much it sucks.”

Ransom lets out a startled laugh. “You trying to prove your Bubbe right, you moron? You don’t have to tell me how much it sucks. I know how much it sucks.”

“Wh—” Holster’s head snaps up. Ransom is looking at him with nothing but hope in his expression now. He’s still got ahold of Holster’s wrist. It’s not enough contact, not by a long shot. “You’re shitting me. You’re not shitting me? You—”

“Oh my god, dude, for someone who acted like he had to spell it out for me, you sure are taking your time wrapping your head around this,” Ransom says. There’s a tantalizing grin on his face. “You need me to spell it out this time, or are you gonna kiss me since we’ve both been waiting for it for years?”

Holster grabs a fistful of Ransom’s practice jersey and hauls him forward.

Ransom kisses the same way he did his freshman year; he’s gained a bit more finesse, but he is still warm and eager and perfect. Holster doesn’t remember it being this good. He can’t think of a single other kiss that’s been half as good as this one.

Maybe it’s because it’s been four years in the making. Or maybe it’s because he and Ransom have always been perfect complements of one another. They settled so firmly into friendship all those years ago that there wasn’t even a chance to consider exploring this side of it. Holster is desperate to memorize the feel of Ransom pressed against him like this, the feel of Ransom’s lips moving against his, the feel of the heat that pools and curls and writhes around in his belly. If they were standing on the ice, Holster is certain they’d melt right through it.

“Faber probably isn’t the best place for this,” Ransom finally says. He breaks away sound breathless and looking wrecked, and Holster has to fight down the surge of pride that rushes through his body. This is unlike anything he’s ever known before.

“I would argue that Faber is a great place for this.”

Ransom laughs and turns away when Holster leans in for another kiss. Holster doesn’t let up; he kisses Ransom loudly and messily on the cheek.

It’s a start, Holster decides, and it’s one hell of a way to begin.

[artificialqueens]

nobody knows where we might end up, chapter eight (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr) | word count: 4150

AN: Thank you so much for the recent lovely reviews and feedback on this fic! It makes me so, so happy every time, and even more motivated to keep going. I appreciate you all so much. Thank you Writ for beta-ing this and being wonderful.

(then)

“C’mon, Mami. Please tell me something cool that’s happened at work recently.”

“Patient confidentiality, baby. Not gonna happen.” Vanessa’s mom ruffles her hair, making her scowl. “Can’t be spilling stuff to just anyone.”

“But I’ll understand so much more now! We had our cardio unit in physiology and I aced it.” Vanessa swings her legs on the side of her mom’s bed, watching her pack a sweater in her bag before her night shift.

“Already told you, I can tell you all about the cardiac ICU and what it’s like being on the unit, but no patient-related things. Gotta wait till you’re working in a hospital yourself for that part.” Vanessa’s mom pulls her hair up into a bun, away from her face.

“That’s not going to be until forever.” Vanessa sighs. She wishes she could fast forward to being an intern or a resident now.

“Tell you what. Want me to talk to the cardiologist on the unit about maybe shadowing him? You can see what it’s like, then.” Vanessa’s mom straightens out her light blue scrubs. Vanessa wishes sometimes she could try them on, but it would feel a little too on the nose.

“Would that even work? I thought you have to apply through official channels and stuff.” Vanessa has already applied to some hospitals in the new year for volunteering, but none of them are going to be in cardio, which is what she really wants to see.

“Connections always help, mija. Having a nurse for a mom has got to be useful for something.” Vanessa grins at her mom’s statement. Her mom is definitely why she’s always been drawn to healthcare, seeing her in and out of scrubs for most of her life.

“Though it beats me why you won’t just apply for nursing,” Vanessa’s mom continues, “it’s practical and you’ll have to do less school and you’ll get to make money faster. And no cutting people open.”

Vanessa wrinkles her nose. They’ve had this conversation way too often for her liking. “But night shifts, like the one you’re going to right now. And cleaning up poop.”

“You’ll have night shifts as a resident too, y’know, if you try and become a doctor. They’re unavoidable.”

“All worth it if I get to cut people open eventually.” Vanessa shoots a cheeky grin at her mom when she swats her with her bag.

“What are you, Dr. Frankenstein or something? Gross.” Vanessa’s mom makes a face at her. “I’m telling you, there’s something off about all the surgeons at the hospital. They’re all a little cuckoo in the head.”

Vanessa tries not to laugh. “I bet they think the same thing about the nurses.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t dare. We could kick their asses in a second. Not that we’d ever say that to their faces. Don’t tell them.” Vanessa’s mom points a finger at her.

“When would I ever see the surgeons?”

“I’m gonna get you to shadow one of them, aren’t I? Mom of the year. Pay attention.”

“You really are, Mami.” Vanessa stands up, placing a kiss on her mom’s cheek. “Have a good shift.”

Vanessa’s mom waves her off. “And don’t you forget it. We’ll see about it being a good shift, though. Depends on which bobo day nurse I take over from today.”

Vanessa’s mom pulls on her coat, then hat and gloves, grumbling the whole while. “Damn winter weather. Remind me why we live in Brampton again?”

“Because of your job.”

“Eh.” Vanessa’s mom shrugs. “Now that you and Julio are both out of the house, maybe I should just move to Florida or something. Somewhere warm. Not a place that’s frozen over half of the year.”

“Then I wouldn’t be able to visit you during the holidays!” Vanessa protests her mom’s statement, hands on her hips. It’s not like they’d be able to afford constant plane tickets either.

“Take it easy, mija, I wasn’t being serious.” Vanessa’s mom shoots her a good natured look.

Vanessa huffs. “I know.”

“Glad to know you would miss me, though. You better.” Vanessa’s mom grabs her car keys, nearly drops them in her gloved hands.

Vanessa snorts. “Don’t gloat about it too much. Now go before you’re late for work.”

“Going, going.” Vanessa’s mom pops her head back inside a second later. “Don’t forget to make the plátanos tonight. We’re going to be too swamped to do them before Christmas dinner tomorrow.”

“I won’t!” Vanessa calls it out long after her mom closes the door behind her, rolling off of the bed. She heads to the family computer in the living room, which Julio is still sitting at after playing games on it for most of the day. She rolls her eyes. Her older brother is absolutely addicted to it. All she wants to do is be able to talk to Brooke.

“Julio, move! It’s my turn now.” She stomps her foot too, not that it makes any difference because he doesn’t even look up from the game on the screen.

“Nope.” He pops his lips on the last letter. “I still gotta beat this level.”

“Ugh.” Vanessa rolls her eyes at him, leaning against the monitor. “Do you ever do anything other than play stupid games on this thing?”

“I’m in engineering, dumbass, of course I do.” Julio looks up, his grin smug, making Vanessa huff. Annoying brothers. “I’m enjoying my winter break.”

Vanessa crosses her arms. “I wanna talk to-”

“I don’t care. You have to wait.”

“I’ve been waiting all day.” Vanessa grumbles. She perks up suddenly when remembering exactly what can make him move. “If you don’t move, I’m gonna tell Mami about the time when you were in Grade 12 when you snuck out and went to Noah Fielding’s party and-”

“Do not.” Julio turns from the computer, wide-eyed, pointing a finger at her. “You know she’d still beat my ass for that.”

“Well,” Vanessa shoots him a smug smile, “guess you gotta move then, huh?”

“Fine. Jesus.” Julio grumbles under his breath as he gets up, shuffling to the kitchen. Vanessa takes his seat with a grin.

She logs onto MSN messenger, scanning through her contacts while looking for one very specific person.

“Yes!” Vanessa can’t help but let out a little whoop when she sees that Brooke is online.

Vanjievanjievanjie: Brooke!!! <3

BLDancer1: V! I miss you so much!

Vanjievanjievanjie: I miss u too :( this break has been so long

BLDancer1: Way too long. :(

Vanjievanjievanjie: what are you up to??

BLDancer1: We’re going to midnight Mass later tonight because of Christmas Eve. I gotta get ready soon, ugh.

Vanjievanjievanjie: sounds boring tbh

BLDancer1: It is! I’d much rather be asleep, honestly. Vanjievanjievanjie: nerd

BLDancer1: Like you stay up much later than me! What are you up to?

Vanjievanjievanjie: not doing much for Christmas Eve cuz my mom’s working, just me and my brother and my dog rn but tmrw we have lots of fam over

BLDancer1: That sounds more fun than our Christmas dinners. It’s just my family all sitting around the table and eating quietly like every other dinner.

Vanjievanjievanjie: ew that sounds stiff. how’s the fam tho??

She hasn’t met Brooke’s family, knows very little about them. Brooke always gets more sad and shifty whenever her family is brought up, so Vanessa tries not to do it too much. Though asking over MSN may be better than in person.

BLDancer1: The usual. They said I need to exercise more and tutted about how my grades still aren’t as high as they should be. Not much else.

Vanessa winces. Yikes. Brooke had been fretting about going home the entire week before they left for Christmas break, hanging around Vanessa’s room because she hadn’t wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Vanessa doesn’t know exactly what Brooke’s family is like to make her feel this way, but it makes her want to fight them all.

Not that that would be a good first impression on them.

Vanjievanjievanjie: sorry baby :(((( sending u a big hug from here

BLDancer1: It’s okay. They’re right, I need to be better.

Vanjievanjievanjie: you’re already perfect u angel

BLDancer1: Not as much as I should be, though. My grades weren’t good enough this semester.

Vanjievanjievanjie: u got the top marks in our class u loon

BLDancer1: My mom said they’re not high enough to get into med school, though.

Vanjievanjievanjie: what does she know?? ur already working ur ass off, you’ll do it

BLDancer1: I feel like there’s always more to do, like I’m not doing enough.

Vanjievanjievanjie: listen come here so I can yell at you about how ur already a genius, u dumbass

BLDancer1: LOL, that’s a contradicting statement.  

Vanjievanjievanjie: u know what I mean.

BLDancer1: Ugh. I do. I just hate being here and hearing them lecture me constantly about things.

Vanjievanjievanjie: :(((

Vanessa spams a lot of emojis after her message for emphasis, hoping that it makes Brooke laugh at least.

BLDancer1: What is the blueberry emoji for?

Vanjievanjievanjie: because i miss u BERRY MUCH

BLDancer1: LOL. I miss you and you remain the cutest ever. :*

Vanjievanjievanjie: 5 more days to go!!

BLDancer1: I’m counting them down. <3

Vanessa has to stop herself from smiling when she signs off after Brooke has to leave. Five more days until she gets to see her, hug her, kiss her again. Five more days until she can go back to telling Brooke how she’s already wonderful just the way that she is, no matter what her family says. She hopes that Brooke starts to believe it, too.

(now)

Nessa.

Dr. Hytes had called her Nessa again. Brooke had called her Nessa.

Vanessa hasn’t heard the nickname since junior year of undergrad. No one else has called her that since then, no ex-girlfriends or family or anything. No one since Brooke.

It’s what Brooke used to call her when she was feeling particularly affectionate, or soft, or needy. When she’d drape herself over Vanessa, seeking comfort in her touch and the way that both of their bodies would feel warmer, safer.

And now she’s gone and said it again.

Sure, maybe it had been in the heat of the moment. Banging on Vanessa’s desk, skiving off the boring assembly for something way more fun.

But that sex had been different, Vanessa knows it. She had felt it on Brooke’s lap and she still feels it now, two days later because all her fucking brain wants to replay on loop is Brooke’s voice saying Nessa.

Maybe it’s good that the OR has been overly booked with cardiac surgeries and that Dr. St. Clair is out sick, making Vanessa’s schedule overflow with work. She needs the distraction, needs concrete work to focus on because if she doesn’t have it, she’s going to fucking spiral.

Not that it helps, because even during surgeries her mind has started to wander, falling back on muscle memory for the procedures because her brain has decided that it would rather focus on that fucking voice.  

She can’t do this again. At least, that’s what the rational part of her brain is telling herself. That her breakup with Brooke had been her worst breakup for a reason, drudging up all of her insecurities and fear and crushing her heart with a weight on her chest until it had smashed into a million pieces.

She can’t survive it a second time. She can’t.

Because sex is one thing. The chance to get freaky with someone who already knows her body, knows what she likes, knows what to do. Someone who has no doubt improved over the last eleven years as well.

But the way that Brooke had held onto her that last time, whispered to her softly, pressing kisses to her temple that hadn’t just been offhand, but felt so loaded with unspoken words? It had felt so real in the moment, and still feels real now when she thinks about it. Mostly because she can’t stop thinking about it.

Nessa.

Not Dr. Mateo, not Vanessa - the latter of which Brooke had began to use before they had broken up, when they had danced around each other and said words that neither of them had been able to take back.

Nessa.

It has to mean something.

Vanessa hates how much she wants it to. How much her heart is begging to go back to the start, to how things used to be. She needs to resist it.

At least, that’s what she’s going to keep telling herself.

“Vanjie. Vanjie.”

“What?!” She nearly jumps when seeing Kameron suddenly in front of her waving a hand in front of her face, blocking her view of the computer she’s sitting at in the dictation room. “Jesus Christ, woman. You scared me.”

Kameron snickers and Vanessa can’t help but smile back as she rolls her eyes, taking her thoughts of Brooke and pushing them away, burying them down in favour of Kameron’s expectant face. She’s beginning to bond with the cardiac surgery team in and out of the OR, a fact that makes her happier than it should. They’re all on a first name basis (well, nickname for her), and they’ve begun to hang out after work. Little things that are beginning to make Toronto feel more like home again.

“You’ve been so on edge for days. What’s gotten into you?” Kameron raps her nails on the computer monitor, and Vanessa closes her open tab with a sigh. Clearly she’s not going to get much work done.

“Nothing. Just tired, is all. This week’s been a fucking mess with the long hours.” Vanessa shrugs up at her. She can already feel a tension headache brewing at her temples, though she knows it’s not just from the workload.

Sure, they’re all friends now. But does she want to spill the saga of whatever the fuck is going on with her and Brooke to a work friend? Not particularly.

“You’re telling me. It’s nine p.m. and we’re still here because of all this documentation left over that we still have to do because of all the extra OR time we’ve had to take on this week? I want to go to bed.” Kameron flops down in the chair beside her looking slightly put out.

“Where’s Asia?” Vanessa looks at the spot beside Kameron and is surprised to see it empty, because the two of them are not far from being attached at the hip when they aren’t with patients.

Kameron huffs. “On a date. Again.”

An interesting fact indeed. It’s Asia’s third date just this week, and coincidentally the third day of Kameron walking - no, stomping - around the cardiac units with an extra furrow in her brow.

Hell, Vanessa needs a distraction from her own love life - or rather, lack of one, so she may as well bother Kameron about hers.

“That seems to be making you feel some type of way, huh?” Vanessa wants to tread carefully because she knows that she’s best friends with Asia, but the way that Kameron is affected seems like-

“I’m not jealous, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Kameron’s a bit quick in her answer, fiddling with her hands. “Asia just goes out with all of these…lame guys and never seems to enjoy it, anyway, from the way she always comes over for a glass of wine afterwards to talk about it and it’s just…annoying. That’s all.”

“Jealousy or not, it’s clearly upsetting you a little.” Oh, has Vanessa been there. Crushing on a straight girl. Not something she’d ever want to repeat.

“Hmph.” Kameron folds her arms, and the action when contrasting with her scrubs and lab coat is a little funny. “It’s not. She’s just my best friend. I don’t care.”

“You’re so convincing, I almost believed you there for a second.”

Kameron scowls. “I don’t.”

“Hey.” Vanessa takes pity, putting her hand on Kameron’s shoulder. “Care or not, you ever want to talk about it, I’m here, ‘kay? I get it.”

Kameron deflates in her seat. “Thanks. Not that I need to talk about it,” she’s quick to add, “but I appreciate it.”

Vanessa shoos her away. “I know. Now go, I gotta finish dictating this report.”

She can hear Kameron’s snort as she heads down the hallway, and can’t help but smile either as she shakes her head. Kameron’s unrequited crush, no matter how much the other doctor doesn’t want to admit it, is cute. Though not something Vanessa pities in the least - she’s glad she’s moved on from that stage in her life.

Kameron’s problems are enough to distract her to get her through the rest of her reports, her mind blissfully clear of her own issues (she can’t start thinking about Brooke again, she can’t). It isn’t until she’s home a few hours later, setting her alarm for the morning that she realizes the next day is Thursday. Her next meeting with Brooke and the team about the surgery. Where she has to see her again.

Shit.

Grabbing an extra coffee before the meeting hadn’t been the smartest idea, something that Vanessa is beginning to realize the longer and longer she has to sit in this conference room while fighting the urge to bounce her leg in her seat.

The anesthesiologist is droning on and on, his nasally voice making Vanessa cringe. She has ten minutes before he’s done his explanation to the patient, family, and the rest of the surgery team. It’s going to be her turn straight after, having to review the patient’s tachycardic issues and the precautions that the team will have to keep in mind.

Except that her brain is running way too fast and circling through her thoughts at what feels like a million miles an hour, and she’s trying to look down at her notes and pay attention to them while listening to the meeting at the same time, but all she can focus on is Brooke.

Brooke, who is sitting at the other end of the table, looking incredibly focused and calm and is participating in the discussion as if she doesn’t have a care in the world. Brooke, who greeted her when she came in with a neutral smile and a handshake as if they didn’t have the most confusing sex the last time they were in each other’s presence.  

Brooke isn’t shaking in her seat the way Vanessa is, nor are her eyes darting around the rest of the room. She’s not stuttering on her words, not like Vanessa did when the patient’s wife had asked her a question and she missed half of it.

How is Brooke so unflappable?

“Dr. Mateo?”

“Huh?”

The case manager is looking at her expectantly and shit, it’s her turn to speak and she hasn’t even noticed.  

Vanessa can feel the blush rising in her cheeks as she clears her throat, trying as best as she can to not make eye contact with Brooke.

Of course, Brooke’s direction is exactly where Vanessa looks as soon as she starts her spiel. Her blonde waves are falling down her shoulders and her head is slightly tilted as she fixes her steady gaze on Vanessa, and it’s enough to make her pause for a second, stumble on her words. A real great look for a cardiothoracic attending surgeon.

Vanessa finds it difficult to look away from Brooke as she continues talking, her eyes somehow always straying and returning back to her. As if Brooke is a homing beacon that pulls her back in every time, one that Vanessa can’t seem to change her course from no matter how hard she tries to do so.

Brooke doesn’t shift her gaze away either. Vanessa can’t tell if the way that Brooke bites her lip and the storm that’s brewing behind her eyes are real or just in her imagination, as if she’s projecting what she’s feeling - what she wants to feel - onto Brooke.

Hell, Vanessa’s not even sure what she herself is feeling anymore.  

She can’t stop herself from tugging on Brooke’s arm as the meeting ends, holding her back while everyone else around them leaves. Brooke turns around and for a second Vanessa wonders if she’s made a mistake, because being so close to her and seeing confusion and pain and emotions that she doesn’t recognize on Brooke’s face are nearly enough to knock her over.

Brooke shuts the door as the last person leaves, and maybe it’s good that they’re now both on their lunch break because there’s no way Vanessa can even think about work. Not when Brooke is taking a step closer to her, then another, lips parted as if she wants to say something but she’s still holding back.

“What are we doing?” Vanessa can’t help the pleading tone in her voice, because she doesn’t know, has no idea and she’s so fucking confused.

“I…” Brooke’s voice trails off as her eyes search Vanessa’s face, breath hitched and Vanessa wants to scream, because if Brooke doesn’t know, then what are they supposed to do? She can’t take this state of limbo anymore, walking on a tightrope that feels like it’s losing stability, becoming more shaky the more that they try to balance on it.

Brooke puts her hand underneath her chin, tilts her head up and Vanessa is sure that Brooke can see the way that her chest is rising and falling, the air feeling like its escaping her lungs faster than she’s able to bring it in.

It’s almost predictable when Brooke kisses her, wipes the slate of her mind clean with the way her hands come to rest on either side of her face. Vanessa can’t help but stretch up on her tiptoes, sighing into the kiss because it feels right, it feels okay, even though her brain is screaming no, no, no.

It’s not going to solve things, but what does it matter? When Brooke pulls her hips in closer and they press together like two puzzle pieces that somehow fit as if they were never meant to be apart. The smell of Brooke’s shampoo, the softness of her hands, it’s all so familiar and part of memories that still haven’t been erased from her brain no matter how much she had tried to do so when they broke up. It’s all coming back to her now, resurfacing as if she’d never buried them out of anger in the first place.

Maybe it’s a bit destructive, especially because now it’s not just sex, or releasing tension. Not for her, not anymore.  

The realization sinks in deep into Vanessa’s chest when Brooke starts to kiss down the column of her neck, hands trailing down her sides and lips pressing against her hip bone as she gets on her knees when she pushes her shirt up and-

She can’t do it.

Not like this. Not right now.

“No.” Vanessa pushes on Brooke’s shoulders and Brooke moves back immediately, wide eyed and hair slightly mussed and an apology on her lips that begins to spill but Vanessa doesn’t hear it, not with the realization that this is all it will be. Sex.

Vanessa had thought that she could do it, she really did. Except that now her heart feels like it’s being tugged, pulled towards Brooke, someone who doesn’t want her for more than that because why would she? That isn’t their arrangement. Never was. The expectations have been to have no strings attached.

Which is something that Vanessa had thought was possible. Though she should have known better - as if her heart will ever able to release the ropes that it had tied to Brooke back when they first started university.

She pushes her way out of the conference room on shaky legs, ignoring Brooke’s voice from behind her that she can’t tell what she’s saying because her brain isn’t working, not right now. The signs down the long hallway start to blur together as she tries to look up and find the way to her office because where the fuck is it, she can’t break down in the hall, she’s an attending, what will everyone say? But then she’s there and slamming the door behind her, leaning against it because her legs can’t do something as simple as holding her up right now.

“Vanessa. Vanessa.” The voice on the other side is a little desperate (no, no, no), with the banging of a fist on a door that follows makes her squeeze her eyes shut tight. She wants to disappear, make it as if none of this happened and as if she never even came back in the first place because of course she was naive enough to think that she could be back here with no problems.

Vanessa had thought that she’d freed herself. But now, she realizes that she hasn’t. She never had.

[dragonfics]

What’s in a name?

Chapter 3: No need for paperwork

Ship: Spicyhoney

Tags: Doctor Rus, patient Edge, LV issues, discrimination, dehumanisation, asylum-style setting, institutional captivity, forced institutionalisation, needles, minor medical procedures, unethical medical practice, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: If you'd asked Rus a week ago what he expected to be doing next Friday night... it most certainly would not be this.

Notes: Emphasis on the ‘dehumanisation’ tag this chapter, just a warning.

Read on AO3

OR

Below the cut

Rus ate alone during lunch. He’d always been the sociable type, but here, he’d been having a little difficulty making ‘friends’. The break room was usually quiet anyway. Breaks were short and few during the day, and people seldom spoke to each other. Or to Rus, at least.

Today, the doctor on the table next to Rus was having a very loud conversation with his colleagues. Rus eyed him; thick mane and golden fur, his canines glistened as if they’d been whitened. His tail swished animatedly behind him as he spoke, his rumbling voice carrying through the room. Rus was about to stuff his earbuds in when he caught something.

“... oh and have you heard about all the security stuff they’re planning for ward D? I’m good mates with the head of security—good mates—he told me they’re gonna be changing policies there to make it more… well, you know what the patients are like in there.” He cut a chunk off the steak on his plate and shovelled it into his mouth.

“What kind of changesss?” asked the nurse sitting next to him, her forked tongue flicking. 

“Hm, well—” The lion held up a claw and finished chewing. “More tranquiliser, chaining ‘em up when they’re giving them their meds. Apparently there’ve been a few too many incidents.”

Rus swallowed, stirring his yoghurt around its tub. “um—” He cleared his throat, leaning over. “excuse me, did you say ward d?”

The lion twisted around in his seat, his green eyes widening when he saw Rus. “That’s right.” He tilted his head. “You new around here?”

“i was transferred from training a few weeks ago—i work in ward d.”

He lifted a brow. “Really?” He glanced at his colleagues before scooting his chair closer to Rus and leaning in. “You know, I’m pretty close with the head of admin. I could probably get you transferred to a different ward, if you like. Gotta be rough for a trainee starting in ward D.” Rus opened his mouth to remark that he was not a trainee, thank you, and he did not need to be transferred—but the lion kept speaking. “I work in research. It’s pretty comfy. No one above five LV, and we mostly just handle samples.” He held out his paw, flashing a grin. “Boris, by the way.”

Rus slowly shook his hand. “rus… and uh, that’s okay, thanks. but—what do you know about the changes?”

Boris glanced over his shoulder, then dipped his head, moving closer. His eyes were gleaming, thrilled to share the information only he was privy to. “Well, I’m not really meant to say, but I’ve heard it’s ‘cause they wanna increase experimentation. You know, looking for cures and stuff—that’s my area.”

Rus’s mana ran cold. “experimentation… don’t you mean research?”

Boris tilted his hand, shrugging. “Eh, same thing. They gotta get more samples from the ones with high LV. Problem is, most of ‘em don’t like it. React badly to needles and shit—you’d know, working in ward D. So they wanna keep ‘em more sedated.” Boris grinned and Rus’s soul churned. He was tempted to remark that none of his patients had ever resisted giving samples. Not much, anyway. “We’re getting more pressure from the city council to find a cure. Means more work for me but I don’t mind. Makes it all a bit more exciting, don’t you think?”

“not really the word i’d use,” Rus muttered, but Boris didn’t seem to hear him.

“Yeah, I reckon it’s gonna help us out a lot. You done much research since starting here?”

Rus nodded. Part of his job was analysing the samples he took from patients; scanning the mana for traces of LV, trying to see what effect the suppressants had. But once the mana was out of their bodies, it was all but indistinguishable from the mana of monsters with no LV. Which meant that LV was linked to the soul, making it inseparable from the monsters themselves. Rus had always taken it as a dead end, but clearly they were taking their… ‘research’ to the next level.

“so, this… experimentation…” Rus swallowed. “how will it even get through? i don’t think the patients will be very willing to sign consent forms—”

Boris’s laughter was booming. “Consent forms?” He clapped Rus on the shoulder. “You’re cute, new guy.” He glanced at the others. “Isn’t he cute?” He leaned in again. “Sweetheart, we’re doing them a favour here. Do you know how much money is being put into this? How many resources? The least they could give us in return is a little gratitude. Once we’ve figured it all out, they might even be rehabilitated. If any of them have any issues with this—” He chuckled. “Well, I know what I’d do with them if I was running this place.” He gave Rus a long look, as if expecting him to ask. When Rus said nothing, he stretched and stood up. “Keep an eye on your email. You’ll probably be hearing all about it soon.”

Sure enough, within the week, the whole place was buzzing with talk of the new changes. There seemed to be mixed opinions on it—though the responses from the staff were largely positive, from the talk Rus had overheard.

“I know it’s not exactly gonna be comfortable,” Jackie had said when Rus had asked her about it. “But once we’re past the transition stage I reckon it’s going to make things run a lot smoother around here. Don’t you think?”

Rus had mumbled his disagreement. He was the minority, it seemed, but not entirely alone. He’d overheard snatches of conversations from some of the other nurses and doctors.

“—not exactly right, is it?”

“—don’t think I’m going to be sticking around here if this is the way things are going—”

“I mean, it’s awful, kind of cruel, but I guess it’s just the way things are with these creatures.”

Most seemed willing to accept it, if grudgingly.

More than a few patients were displeased about the changes. There were far more incidences of violent outbursts in the ward that week. When passing a group of nurses leaving a patient’s room one evening, Rus caught sight of a full tray of used tranquiliser needles on their med cart. “And they wonder why we’re putting these new policies in place,” one of them muttered, wiping his hands off on his pants.

The job of informing the patients of the changes was left to their respective doctors, though by the end of the week, most had already received the news through gossip. None of Rus’s patients took the information with grace, not that he expected any less.

For some reason, he left twenty-two for last. He didn’t try to justify the decision to himself, but something inside him squirmed with dread every time he thought about doing it. Thursday was the deadline, and when evening came, he couldn’t put it off any longer. He added the jelly cup from his lunch box to twenty-two’s dinner tray, ignoring Jackie’s raised eyebrow. “can you wait outside?” he asked when they reached twenty-two’s door.

“Uh… I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, doc.” Jackie eyed the door dubiously. “You know this probably isn’t going to go well, right?”

“it’s okay.” Rus tapped his collar with his fingertip. “i have my panic button. if i’m not out in five, come and get me. but—i don’t think he’ll hurt me.”

Jackie sighed, shrugging. “Alright. Just don’t die, please. The paperwork for that is horrendous.”

On a normal day, Rus might have humoured her with an eye roll. But today, he lacked the energy. He opened the door and walked in with lead feet. Twenty-two was sitting at the windowsill. The book in his lap was closed, his gaze trained on the streaks of blood in the sky. “hey,” Rus said, wheeling in his cart. “i brought you something extra for dinner.” He placed the tray next to the bed, but twenty-two didn’t look up. “i don’t know if you like raspberry, but i figured anything would be better than the usual.”

Twenty-two turned to look at him and Rus had to refrain from shrinking away. His red eye-lights were pinpricks, almost consumed by the black depths of his sockets. On the arms of his chair, his hands were fists. “Just tell me, doctor,” he said. “Read the new policies to me. I know that’s why you’re here. You’ve put it off long enough so let’s just get it over with.”

Rus swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He took the letter out of his pocket and unfolded it for what felt like the hundredth time that week. “well, the first change is—”

“No, no.” Twenty-two was shaking his head. “Read it as is. Read the exact words it says on the page.”

Rus took a shaky breath. “i don’t know if…”

“Read it.”

His tone left no room for argument. Closing his eyes briefly, Rus looked down at the page. “dear patient, as of the fourteenth of this month, several new policies will be put into place. these are to ensure the safety of both staff and—and patients.”

Twenty-two waved his hand. “Go on.”

“cuffs will be installed in all rooms for patients above ten lv. when medication is administered or samples taken, patients will be cuffed and—and if necessary… muzzled.” Rus broke off sharply, barely getting the last word out.

Twenty-two was looking out the window again, resting his chin on his palm. His gaze was distant. “Keep reading.”

“patients with lv above twelve will have their suppressant dosage increased to the maximum, no exceptions. all patients will be issued an ankle tag which they must wear at all times. this will monitor their magic use. those who exceed a set threshold will lose their meal p-privileges for the rest of the day. those who break this boundary twice will lose meal privileges for two days, and so on.” Rus stopped at the next one, his words choking off suddenly.

“I believe there’s more, doctor,” twenty-two said, his voice deceptively soft. Rus’s hands trembled around the sheet of paper. His sockets burned.

“in order to assist with furthering the research of this facility, patients may be required to give additional samples, as well as undergo certain—e-experiments.” Rus pressed a hand over his mouth, sucking in a sharp breath.

Twenty-two nodded, his mouth twisted into a grimace. “That should be interesting, shouldn’t it?” he said in a raspy voice.

“i’m sorry,” Rus whispered, for all the good an apology would do. He folded the sheet again, stepping towards twenty-two.

“Don’t put that away just yet, I believe there’s more. Am I wrong?”

Grimacing, Rus unfolded it again, and read the last paragraph. “all policies will be strictly enforced. breaking them will result in consequences for both patient and carer. these changes are in the best interest of everyone, and cooperation is crucial to the smooth and safe running of this facility.” Rus shut his eyes, a sick burning in his soul. “patients are advised that these changes are for their benefit, and—” He grit his teeth. “i can’t—i can’t read this—”

“You’re my doctor. I believe you have a responsibility to inform me of any policy changes the facility will be making.” Twenty-two leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Well?”

Rus closed his eyes, stewing in hatred. Not directed at twenty-two, but right now, he was the most immediate target. His jaw clenched, he read the final line of the letter. “patients are advised that these changes are for their benefit, and that not adhering to them would be—” He swallowed, breathing out. “would be an act of both disrespect and ingratitude.” His voice broke off and he stuffed the letter back into his pocket. There was a burning in his soul. His fists were shaking at his sides.

Twenty-two had turned back to the window, his face hidden. “Thank you, doctor. Is that all?”

Rus reached for his shoulder. “please don’t—”

“I’d like to be alone, if that’s still permitted.”

Rus shut his eyes and exhaled. “i’m sorry,” he said in a brittle voice, pushing the med cart back out. Jackie was waiting for him in the hallway. Her long ears sagged when she saw his face, and she sighed.

“Hey.” She patted his arm. “I told you, you shouldn’t get attached.”

“he’s—” Rus caught his breath, closing his eyes. “they’re my patients. it’s my job to care about their wellbeing.”

“It’s for the best.”

“it’s barbaric,” Rus hissed.

“You knew what this job was when you came here, didn’t you?” She leaned in, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s our instinct to care, but these guys aren’t actually our patients. They’re our subjects.” She frowned, meeting Rus’s eye. “Why did you come here?”

Rus looked down at his shaking hands. Two nurses passed them, one laughing loudly at something the other one had said. Rus squeezed his hands into fists, staring after them with his teeth gritted. “i wanted to help them.”

“And you will,” Jackie said firmly. “When we find a cure for their affliction, we’ll know it was because of our work.”

Rus shook his head, whispering, “what if we’re making a mistake?”

***

The policies wouldn’t be effective for another week, but the following day, signs of their arrival were already starting to pop up all over the ward. Sonya told him they were getting in an extra large shipment of tranquiliser that afternoon. They had already started strapping muzzles to the med carts. And in almost every room Rus walked past, they were installing chains and cuffs to the walls. Half-sedated patients were being escorted between rooms throughout the ward. Rus did his best not to look at their muzzled faces.

He’d been putting off twenty-two’s evening checkup. He was meant to be informing him that he would be transferred to a different room later tonight so that cuffs could be installed in his room over the weekend. Sonya had given him the transfer papers this morning, and they’d been burning a hole in his pocket all day.

It was growing dark by the time he and Jackie started finishing up. “shit… twenty-two,” Rus said, glancing at his schedule. “go home,” he told Jackie. “i’ll take care of it. i just need to give him his dinner and prep him for the transfer. i can handle it.” She seemed relieved at the early dismissal. The day had been spent transferring patients between rooms. A lot of tranquiliser had been involved and Rus didn’t care to linger on the details.

He scanned his card at room twenty-two and pushed the med cart through the door. “dinner,” he announced, kicking the door shut behind him. “i put it in the microwave so it should be warm.” He picked up the tray and glanced around, but twenty-two wasn’t in his armchair, or his bed…

Rus gasped, dropping the tray with a loud clatter as something cold and sharp touched his throat. He could feel the press of twenty-two’s body behind him, and his arm was tight across Rus’s throat. Before Rus could react, he ripped the panic button off his collar and tossed it across the room. “Don’t even think about screaming.”

Rus’s head pounded, a million thoughts rushing through his mind, at least half of them involving the needle pressed to his throat. “if—” he broke off, straining to keep his voice level. “if this is another one of your games—”

“It’s not a fucking game!” No. No, it definitely wasn’t. The needle pressed harder and Rus shut his eyes, breathing a silent prayer. “I can’t stay here anymore. I’m sorry, doc, but this is my only way out.”

“just—just think about what you’re doing,” Rus whispered, his air almost choked off by twenty-two’s hold. “this isn’t who you are—”

“Don’t try, doctor. I’ve been in this place since before you started practicing medicine. I know your tricks. I’m a killer. It’s why I’m here.”

“you don’t want to do this…”

“Shut up!” Twenty-two squeezed harder and Rus whimpered, fighting for air. “It’s—it’s just tranquiliser. It’ll knock you out for a few hours, then I’ll be long gone.” He slipped Rus’s ID card out of his pocket. “I—I just need this. I just need this and I can get out.”

Rus squirmed under his tight grip. “th—that tranquiliser is meant for monsters with at least ten lv,” he rasped. “my hp is too low—it’ll kill me.” Twenty-two exhaled hard, shifting his grip. Rus could hear the needle shaking in his hand, so close to his neck.

“You’re lying.”

“you know i’m not.” LV crackled in the air and Rus blinked away tears. “you told me before that you didn’t want to hurt me,” he whispered.

“I don’t.” Twenty-two inhaled deeply. “But I will if I have to.”

Rus fought back the overwhelming urge to panic. The electricity tingling up his spine, the impulse to writhe and scream; he fought them back. “you don’t want to. think about what you’re doing—even if you get me out of the way, what will you do next? you think they’re just going to ignore you? a patient walking unaccompanied through the ward?”

“I’ll think of something,” twenty-two hissed. “I’ll—I’ll fight if I have to.”

“i know you’re strong, you are. but you’re on suppressants. even on your best day, you couldn’t take five nurses with tranquiliser—and security will be down in minutes.” Twenty-two’s grip grew tighter and Rus felt the warmth of building tears in his sockets. “please,” he whispered. “you don’t want to do this.” Outside, the sky was turning purple. Rus idly wondered if it would be the last time he saw it.

“I can’t stay here,” twenty-two choked. “I’ll die. I’ll die before I spend another day in these walls.”

Rus shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before whispering, “i can help you.”

“No you can’t!” twenty-two snapped, and Rus choked as he jolted. “You can’t help me! Don’t give me that. Don’t give me that bullshit.”

“no,” Rus gasped, struggling in twenty-two’s grip. “i—i can help you get out.” Twenty-two went quiet, his breathing loud against Rus’s ear. Cautiously, Rus went on. “if you let me take the lead, we can pretend i’m taking you to a different room. i have your transfer papers. we can—”

Twenty-two’s grip shifted threateningly and Rus broke off. “No. No, I don’t trust you for a second.”

“you have to.”

“And what’s to stop you from marching me straight to the tranquilising room when I’m not holding this to your throat anymore?” He pressed the tip of the needle to Rus’s vertebrae as if to emphasise his point, and Rus winced.

“i want to help you. i don’t want to see you die. i—”

“I don’t believe you.”

“i can only offer you my word. please. please let me help you.”

Twenty-two’s silence weighed on the room, and with each passing second, Rus became acutely aware of the cold tip of the needle against his throat. He could feel the unsteady rise and fall of twenty-two’s chest behind him, his breath hot on Rus’s neck.

Then slowly, he released Rus. For several long seconds, Rus stood frozen. He gradually lifted his hands up in a defensive gesture, careful not to make any quick movements. He kept his eyes trained on twenty-two. It was unsettling seeing him without his composure. His complacent smirk and steady, burning eyes. His hand shook around the needle, and his eye-lights were flicking unsteadily between Rus and the door.

Without breaking eye contact, Rus crouched and reached for the set of cuffs on the med cart. Twenty-two took a step back, bearing the needle like a knife. “What are you doing?”

Rus froze, focusing on keeping his voice steady. “patients have to be cuffed when they’re moved between rooms… a-and muzzled.”

Twenty-two’s eyes went wide and his jaw tightened. “No. No! You’re not putting those things on me. I won’t let you.”

Rus took a deep breath. “an uncuffed patient walking the halls would raise too many alarms. we have to make it believable or this won’t work.”

Twenty-two wiped a hand over his face, inhaling sharply, then pointed the needle at Rus’s throat. “If you double cross me, I’ll kill you for every pathetic bit of EXP you’re worth. I’ll fucking kill you.”

Rus nodded, whispering, “okay. okay… i understand...”

Twenty-two put his hands together and Rus cuffed them. Under his fierce red eyes, Rus shook so much he struggled to get the muzzle on. He could hear twenty-two’s ragged breathing behind the mask. “it’s going to be okay. it’ll be okay,” he breathed, more for his own sake. He scanned his keycard and guided twenty-two out into the hall with a hand on his shoulder.

He heard twenty-two’s breath catch. “left,” he said quietly, avoiding the gazes of a passing group of nurses. Thankfully, due to the ‘refurbishments’, twenty-two wasn’t the only patient being moved around, so they didn’t attract many second glances. The closest exit to this wing of the hospital was the back exit through storage, but they’d still have to go through security to get there. Rus desperately wished he’d had more time to plan this. But almost every word out of his mouth these past five minutes had been based on survival instinct and pure adrenaline.

When they reached the reached the large vault doors, Rus showed the security guard twenty-two’s transfer papers. He hoped to the King that the guard wouldn’t notice how much his hands were shaking. She eyed the sheet of paper over. “From room twenty-two?” she asked.

“that’s right,” Rus said in a stiff voice. The guard looked back at the sheet of paper, glancing between the photo stamped on it, and twenty-two. Rus could feel sweat building on the back of his neck, and he was certain it couldn’t all be attributed to the humidity. Twenty-two was silent, but his shoulder was stiff under Rus’s hand.

Finally, the guard nodded, typing in the passcode and scanning her card to let them through. “All good, go on through.” Rus offered her a faint smile, and fought against the urge to hurry through the door. 

This section of the hospital was quieter, and mostly home to research labs and spare rooms. A few of the ward D monsters had been moved here temporarily for the renovations—including twenty-two, by some miracle Rus wasn’t going to painstake over.

Each step down the corridor felt like walking through quicksand. It took every ounce of Rus’s will not to run. Whenever they passed someone, Rus feared—they know, they know, they know.

“Hey! Rus!”

Rus jumped, squeezing twenty-two’s shoulder so hard he grunted. He turned around slowly, his soul already plummeting into an abyss of dread. The doctor from the break room—Boris—was hurrying towards him, his thick golden mane flowing about his face. He grinned his sparkling white grin and put a hand on Rus’s shoulder. “Fancy running into you in this neck of the woods. Come to join me in research for the evening?”

Rus swallowed. They hadn’t been caught. Not yet. Breathe. “no, uh… just delivering a patient actually—transferring. i’m transferring him. while his room is renovated.” He spoke too quickly. Calm down!

Boris looked at twenty-two the same way one might look at a container of forgotten leftovers at the back of the fridge. “Ah. Well, if you ever want a break from… all this—you’re more than welcome to join me in research sometime.” He gave Rus’s arm a soft squeeze, beaming. “I could put a word in for you with the head of admin. She and I are close, you know! I’m sure she could arrange something.”

Down the corridor to the left, Rus could see the glowing sign for an emergency exit. “uh… sure. yeah, sounds great.”

“Yeah?” 

“yeah.” Rus cleared his throat, fidgeting impatiently. “do you mind excusing me? i—i should really get this patient to his room.”

“Of course, of course! By all means. I look forward to working with you, Rus. Oh! Before you go—” He slipped a paper card into Rus’s breast pocket and Rus stared at him, bewildered. “My number. You can contact me any time, sweetheart.” Winking, he walked away.

“o-okay...” Rus tried to push the thought from his mind, and hurried twenty-two on. They walked passed all the patient rooms and stopped outside the emergency exit. Rus hesitated to check if anyone was watching them, as deep as the temptation was to bolt through without looking back. No one was looking their way. He pushed the door open and hurried twenty-two through. Their footsteps echoed through the stairwell, and if they both jogged more than walked, Rus wasn’t complaining.

At the bottom of the stairwell, Rus had to scan his ID card again. They emerged into a long grey corridor lined with shelves and cupboards. Rus could hear the rumble of machinery through the concrete walls, and feel the outside heat creeping in. So close.

The sound of someone whistling echoed down the corridor and Rus froze. Without thinking, he opened one of the storage cupboards and pushed twenty-two towards it. “hide!” he hissed when twenty-two resisted. “you can’t be seen here, you need to hide.” Through the mask of his muzzle, twenty-two’s eyes were narrowed, but he quickly complied. Rus closed the door behind him just as the janitor rounded the corner. He stopped for a second and adjusted his glasses, as if surprised to see Rus. Rus greeted him with a wave and a weak smile.

“You looking for something, love?” the janitor asked.

“no, no, i’m alright,” Rus said. “just uh—getting more tranquiliser.”

The janitor lifted a thick brow. “Don’t you have a stock cupboard in your ward?”

Rus swallowed, nodding slowly. “yes… they just sent me to restock.” He could hear the mana pounding in his skull, his soul so loud it might have been echoing off the walls.

“Ah, alright then. Thought they normally got the aides to do that, but what do I know. Guess the doctors aren’t busy enough these days!” He chuckled to himself, and Rus forced a smile. “Need any help finding it?”

Rus shook his head. “nope! don’t bother yourself. thank you.”

“I’ll leave you be then. Come visit again, no one else bothers.” The janitor ambled on, resuming his whistling. Rus waited until he’d turned the corner before opening the cupboard. Twenty-two gave him a disgruntled look and Rus grimaced.

“you can look at me like that when you get caught,” he muttered.

At the end of the corridor they came to a fork. Far to their left, down a stretch of empty passageway, was a frame of light—and a door. Daylight. Rus guided Edge down the corridor, their feet scuffling loudly against the concrete. When they reached the end, he scanned his card and the door clicked open.

They were hit with a wave of heat. The open desert stretched ahead of them, barred only by the perimeter fence. Sand kicked up around their feet, and Rus had never been so relieved for it. 

He fumbled the key into the lock of twenty-two’s cuffs, stumbling back when twenty-two sank to his knees in the sand. He tore off the muzzle and tossed it aside, grasping at handfuls of dirt. His sockets were wide and glazed as he let the sand trickle between his fingers. His mouth hung open and his breathing was heavy. 

Rus glanced around anxiously, half-expecting a team of security to leap out from behind a bush. “i don’t know how to get past the fence,” he said, “this is where my clearance ends, i’m sorry.”

Twenty-two didn’t look at him, his eyes fixed on the stretching desert ahead. “How far to the city?” 

“about thirty miles.”

He nodded and stood up, walking towards the fence. “Good. I can walk.”

“but you—” Rus stared in a mingle of awe and horror as he climbed the full height of the fence with startling agility, hooking his bony fingers and bare feet between the mesh. When he reached the barbed wire, he paused for only a moment before gripping it with both hands and pushing it aside. A startled gasp bubbled from Rus’s throat. Even from this distance, he could see the bloody scrapes on twenty-two’s hands as he scrambled over the wire. He landed on the other side with little more than a grunt. His jumpsuit was torn and his bones cut and bloody. It was almost comedically horrific.

Rus shrunk back as twenty-two turned around to look at him. “Don’t follow me.” Without another word, he ran off and disappeared into the desert.

[builder051]

If it rains I’ll wear my coat

Bad scribble sketch, but this fic demanded a doodle.  Whoa Bessie (AU featuring Trans Steve and Veteran/Amputee Bucky).  

Contains PTSD and panic attacks.

Steve’s in the middle of talking to a client when somebody knocks on his office door.  He’s set to ignore it and hope whoever it is reads and heeds the in session sign, but after two raps, the knob rattles.  Fury stands in the doorway, his phone to his ear.

The client whips around in her seat.

“It’s ok,” Steve reassures her.  “He’s my boss.”  He gives Fury a pointed look.

“Uh-huh.  Yeah.  One sec.”  Fury holds the phone against his chest as he addresses Steve.  “I’m sorry.  I know you’re busy, but I need to speak to you.  It’s urgent.”

“I apologize,” Steve tells the client as he gets to his feet.  “We’ll reschedule, and I’ll make sure you’re not billed for today.”

“Rogers.”  Fury beckons for him to follow, then resumes his call.  “Yeah, I’ll put you on speaker here in a second.”  He heads for an empty conference room across the hall and kicks away the door stop.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, his heart thrumming as his head works out a thousand different possible situations, most involving James, and none of them good.

“Ok, you’re strong in a crisis, but try not to freak out on me,” Fury starts.  He’s a good manager, and a good man, but it’s times like these when Steve’s forcibly reminded that his supervisor’s experience lies firmly in the realm of physical health.  He respects psychiatry and counseling, but well-intended slip-ups are unfortunately common.

Steve takes a breath, acutely aware of his heart rate continuing to rise.  “Ok.”

“Local PD gives me a courtesy call when they think they’re picking up one of ours,” Fury says, sitting on the edge of the conference table.  “And, uh, today they picked up yours.”

“What?”

“Barnes was wandering around, having a breakdown, and someone called the cops.  They have protocols, but any additional insight helps.  And usually they try to follow our guidance.”

“Oh god.”  Steve’s hand instinctively comes over his mouth.  “Oh shit.”

James is on some street corner falling apart, and it’s entirely Steve’s fault.  He’s gotten lazy and lax, and now there’s a price to be paid.  Guilt hits him like a wallop to the stomach.

They stayed up too late last night.  Steve should’ve put his foot down at midnight, but something about The Rocky Horror Picture Show jogged James’s memory and he started reminiscing about college.  After a year of watching him try and fail to access the details of anything before Afghanistan, Steve couldn’t bring himself to stop him.

Then chatting turned to love-making, which turned to drowsing, which turned to nightmarish thrashing, and the spell had broken at 4:30.  They’d gone to watch TV again, this time in silence.

When Steve had set coffee and a paper cup of pills on the side table and given him a kiss on the forehead, James had looked at him and smiled before glazing over again and returning his attention to Nova.  Steve could claim sleep deprivation or excessive hope and trust, but they’re just excuses.  He should’ve stayed five extra minutes and made sure James took his meds and started the morning right.  But he hadn’t.  He’d left.

“Rogers?”  Fury raises his brows at Steve while he presses buttons on his phone.  “I got Officer Coulson on the line.  He’s a good dude.  We used to work together.”

“Hello?” A voice says from the other end of the line.

They’re on speaker.  Steve needs to pull himself together.  “Yes, hello.  This is Steve Rogers.”

“Ok, Mr. Rogers,” Coulson says.  “We’re responding to call about an individual in distress.  He’s conscious and responsive, but not able to communicate.  Behaving violently toward officers, but scared, and maybe in pain.”

“Yeah, that’s,” Steve starts.  “He does that.  He has PTSD.  He dissociates.”

“We called for an ambulance,” Coulson continues.  “It’s obvious he’s having a medical episode, but I don’t think he’ll respond any better to that—”

“Yeah, he definitely won’t.”  Steve jams his hands into his pockets, closing his fist around his keys.  “I can come get him.”

“Ok, sure.”  Coulson gives him the cross streets.

It’s around the corner from the VA, near the block of apartments where James had lived for a few months when he first returned to civilian life.  “Give me ten minutes,” Steve says.

“Sure,” Coulson replies.  “Just, do you have any form of ID for him?  Nick’s pretty sure it’s James Barnes from the description, but, like I said, he’s not talking to us.”

“Yeah, um…”  If James is that far gone, who knows if he has his phone or his wallet.  Steve wonders if James’s entry at the top of his list of contacts will count.

Fury sets his phone down on the table and quickly wakes the laptop on the podium in the corner.  He holds up one finger as he taps a few keys.  “Copy of his VA ID card is on the printer now.”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve says.  He mouths thank you to Fury.

“And you’re a family member?”  Coulson presses.  “I’m sorry, I have to ask.  Just for everybody’s safety.”

They’re close to two decades into the 21st century.  Steve shouldn’t be embarrassed to call their relationship what it is.  But even then, finding the right word is difficult.  He’s thought about it before, how challenging it is to sum up what James is to him, and he still hasn’t come to a good conclusion.  There’s no time to think now, though, so he says the simplest thing.  “He’s my partner.”  Then he adds, “I’m his emergency contact,” so there’s no space for argument.

Steve sees Fury pulling up James’s patient profile on the screen, too, the one that shows his relatives.  Steve tops the list, even though nothing binds them together but emotion.  One of the cases where water collects enough sediment and dissolved minerals to be thicker than blood.

“On the printer too.”  Fury points to the screen.  Steve nods.

“Good deal,” Coulson says.  “See you soon.”

“Ok.  Yes.  Thank you.”  Steve’s already halfway to the door before Fury returns to the table to end the call.  He can hear Coulson murmuring through the static as he fumbles with his own phone.  Steve’s coming, ok, Jimmy?  Steve Rogers.  It’s the wrong nickname.  But the right sentiment.

“Take the rest of the day,” Fury says, keeping pace as Steve jogs down the corridor to grab the documents from the office hub.  “I’ll clear your schedule.”

“Thank you.”  Steve realizes he’s not breathing, and sucks in a quick lungful.  “I’m sorry about this.”  The words tumble out, his body desperate to shed some of the stress so he can deal with the more pressing issues at hand.  “I probably could’ve prevented it.”

“Nobody sees emergencies coming.”  Fury claps him on the shoulder and holds the side door open for Steve.  “And this is well within the definition of what your sick time will cover.”

Steve’s timecard is the last thing on his mind.  “Thanks,” he says again.

“Hey.”  Fury gives him a meaningful look with his real eye while the glass one seems to stare through Steve.  “Call me if you’re gonna be out tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees as he walks backward toward his car.  “I will.”

Fury nods and gives him a smile.

***

The lights of the police cars are visible halfway down the block, but at least there aren’t any sirens to add to what has to already be an overwhelming amount of sensory input.  Steve pulls up to the curb and jumps out, papers shaking in his hands.

James is on his knees with his head resting on the bench at the bus stop.  His hand is fisted in his hair, and what’s visible of his face is ghostly pale.

“Are you Steve?”  An officer rushes up to meet him, interrupting his beeline.

“Yeah.”  Steve pushes the documents at him, trying to swallow his guilt and borderline panic and drudge up a calm frame of mind.

“Phil Coulson,” the officer says.  “We spoke on the phone.”

“Yeah.”  Steve can’t concentrate on him, though.  James makes an uncomfortable sound, and Steve’s stomach twists in response.  He notices the ambulance parked behind the cop cars, EMTs standing nearby.  “I think if I can just get him home…”  Plans are good, for everyone involved.  “He has a TBI.  Post-traumatic stress, a seizure disorder,” Steve explains.  “I’m pretty sure he forgot his meds this morning.”

It’s not James’s fault that he forgot.  It’s Steve’s fault. 

James groans again and mumbles something.  He blinks hard, but doesn’t look up from the bench’s chipped paint.

“Sure, we’ll stand by,” Coulson says.

Steve runs the last few steps to James’s side, but slows as he lowers himself into a squat.  “Hey, Buck.  Hey.  It’s me, ok?  It’s Steve.”

“Hm.”  James moves his jaw around, but no other sounds come out.

“Can you look at me?”  Steve hovers his hand over James’s arm.  He wants to jump straight to hugging him, but it’s better to go slow.  “I’m gonna touch your shoulder, just letting you know I’m here.”

James is too far gone to process the warning, and he lashes out as soon as Steve’s palm makes contact with his sleeve.  He catches a snag in his hair, and Steve can see strands of it clinging in the webbing between his fingers.  There’s no power behind the blow.  It glances off Steve’s chest, and he uses the opportunity to sandwich James’s hand between his own.

Coulson moves in Steve’s peripheral vision.  “We’re good.  It’s ok,” he tells the officer.  Then he gently squeezes James’s hand.  “You’re home.  Let’s bring you back, ok?”

James blinks again.  He turns his head a fraction of an inch so he can squint sideways at Steve.  There’s a second of recognition, then glassy dizziness again.  He swallows.  “I…  I don’t…” he mumbles.

“It’s ok, Buck.  You’re in DC.  It’s 2018.  It’s getting cold out.”  Steve thinks frantically of other sensory absolutes to point out, ones that won’t be further triggering.

“What’re you…?”  James shakes his head.  It starts slow, then the movement becomes a tremor, shaking his cheeks and his lips.  “You gotta…stop the fucking car…you’re gonna…hit another one…”  His voice dies with a wet sound.

“Ok, ok, Buck?  Look at me.”  But it’s no use.  He’s either going to throw up or start seizing.  James lunges away from the bench, but Steve still has his hand, and he snaps back like a stretched rubber band.  He face-plants into Steve’s chest just as he starts to gag.

Steve couldn’t care less about the mess or the dull ache from the impact of James’s forehead against his sternum.  All that matters is the twitch of tension in James’s hand as his fingers slowly interlace with Steve’s.

“Alright.  There you go.  It’s ok,” Steve murmurs.  He rubs James’s back until he’s done coughing.  “You’re safe.  I got you.”

James leans into him, pressing his face and the front of his neck and his shoulders against Steve’s body.  Steve returns the embrace, dipping his head till his nose brushes James’s back.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but eventually adrenaline wears off, and Steve’s knees ache from being jammed against the cold pavement.  He strokes James’s hair and whispers, “How about we go home?”

James takes a breath.  He’s not up to talking.  Steve still gets the meaning.  He’s heavy and limp like an overcooked noodle, but at least now he’s pliant.

“Ok.  Good.”  Steve plants his feet and slowly straightens his legs, heaving James up with him.  Coulson appears at his elbow, ready to help, but Steve warns him off.  “Don’t.  I got him.”  He pulls James’s arm over his shoulders.  “Sorry.  He just—”

“Isn’t good with strangers,” the officer finishes.  “I get it.”  He looks down at the splatter of sick on Steve’s jeans.  “You need medical, or anything?”

“No, it’s ok, really.”  Steve struggles to free his keys from his pocket.  “But can you help me unlock the car?”

Coulson holds the passenger side open while Steve settles James in the seat.  “Thank you,” he sighs.  “I’m really sorry about all this.”  Steve gently shuts the door and rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand.  “We’ve usually got things better under control.”

“Hey, no worries.  Everybody’s safe, and that’s what really matters.”  The officer gives Steve the keys back, then raises his hand in farewell and heads for his cruiser.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes.  “I guess so.”

***

He drives below the speed limit, then shuffles James across the parking lot and into the apartment.  The coffee and pills from this morning are still on the table beside the couch, but they don’t get that far before James is done with being vertical.

“Whoa.  Ok.”  Steve catches him around the waist before he hits the floor and slowly lowers him the rest of the way.  James gets a fistful of Steve’s collar, yanking his neckline down a few inches and begging Steve to hold him with everything but actual words.

Steve whispers to him and rubs his shoulders and matches his breathing to James’s, imagining the puffs of warmth on his chest feeding him with a little strength that he can foster and pass back to James on the next exhale.

It works for a while, but James starts to shake again.  He makes a humming noise, and Steve feels dampness on his shirt.  At first he thinks James is sick again, but when he pulls his head back to look down, he realizes James is crying.

Tears aren’t bad.  Steve tells that to his clients all the time.  Sometimes they’re necessary.  Emotional purging works very much in the same way as its physical counterpart: sometimes things just need to come up.

“It’s ok,” Steve soothes.  “It’s ok.  You’re ok.”

James pauses sniveling to listen to Steve’s voice, but then he sobs again, air gusting from his lips and making the wetness cold against Steve’s skin.  The vomit on his leg is cold too.  But the tears that run from the corners of his own eyes are hot.  He’d hug James all day and into the night, but he also can’t take this anymore.  The physical weight of him is too much on top of the weight of the responsibility Steve feels for him.

“Let’s get you to bed, alright?”  Steve manhandles James into the bedroom as gently as he can, then unlaces his shoes and tucks him in.  He catches a teardrop with his thumb and kisses James’s stubbly cheek, promising he’ll only be gone a minute.

It takes him longer, though.  Steve stops in the hallway and fights to keep his face from crumpling.  One deviation from routine, one skipped dose, and this is already where they’re at.

It might just be a bad day.  James had had a rough night.  Maybe if he’d slept, he’d be fine.  Or if it was warmer outside.  If Steve had just stayed and watched him swallow his pills, this wouldn’t have happened.

Or maybe if Steve wasn’t always coming up behind him, he’d pick up some more self-sufficiency.  No matter how he slices it, it’s his fault.  The pressure of tears yet unshed makes Steve’s head ache, but he’ll take the pain if it saves him from falling apart.

He strips out of his jeans in the guest bathroom and leaves them in the tub, then pads down the hall in his underwear.  He grabs James’s meds and fills a glass with water.  He digs crackers out of the cupboard, then looks over the spread.  Steve’s about to take it all back to the bedroom when he changes his mind and opens the drawer of pill bottles.

The benzos don’t do much for James’s sleep patterns, so he doesn’t take them.  Occasional insomnia is a joke of a diagnosis anyway; the sleeplessness is hardly a problem compared to the nightmares that cause it.  

He doesn’t like pills that make a fuzz his head, he’d told Steve.  But James is already in a fuzz.  What he needs now is rest.  Steve does too, and he knows he won’t get any if he spends the next couple hours with his heart breaking into smaller and smaller pieces as he listens to James cry.  

There are already four medications in the paper cup, a motley collection of capsules and tablets.  Steve can add one more.  James probably won’t even notice.

***

“Here, let’s take your meds,” Steve says, helping him sit up.  It’s not a lie.  They’re all James’s meds.

James complies without question, even shoving against the mattress with his shaking arm so Steve doesn’t have to do all the work.  He knocks back the pills and swallows a few times, squinting as if it hurts.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve whispers.

James slumps back toward the pillow, reaching for Steve’s hand.  “Steve,” he whispers, drawing out the name until it’s just a breath.

“Yeah.  I’m here.”  Steve forces a smile.  He perches on the edge of the mattress and watches James’s eyes drift shut.

Once he’s breathing evenly, Steve changes clothes and retreats to the kitchen.  He downs a dose of ibuprofen and shovels cold leftovers into his mouth until his throat’s too tight to swallow.  He drops his fork and folds his arms on the table.  He pushes his chair out, then buries his face in his sleeves, wondering if he’s any more put-together than James was when he was breaking down at the bus stop.  Tears aren’t bad, Steve thinks to himself.  He repeats it over a few times, just to be sure he doesn’t forget.

It’s a miracle that logic kicks back in once the weeping tapers off.  Or maybe it’s just his protective instinct playing up again.  Steve peeks in on James, and once he’s sure he’s alright for the time being, he starts a load of wash and does the dishes.

He wanted a few hours of quiet, needed it, in fact, but now it’s too quiet.  Steve opens his laptop and fires up Pandora, but after five minutes he’s out of skips. and still restless.  He calls Sam and puts him on speaker.

“Hey,” Sam greets him.  “I heard what happened.  How’s he doing?”

“He’s ok,” Steve says.  “He just dissociated.  Panicked.  Got sick.”  The need to act, to keep cleaning up, gnaws at him.  He opens a new browser and clicks through the process to order James a medic alert necklace.  “He’s asleep now.”

“Well, that’s good,” Sam says.  “I mean, that he’s getting through it.  And no seizure this time.”

“Yeah, no seizure.”  Steve stares at the computer screen, wondering how on earth this is going to help.  He’s treating James like a stray dog he’s deciding to keep for his own.  Or throwing him back to the Army, with his name on a tag around his neck.  Just with Steve’s phone number instead of a serial.

“But…it’s all my fault, Sam,” Steve whispers.  Not just today.  Everything.  James had joined the Army for Steve.  To support him.  Then, after they’d fought about it, to get away from him.  

And now Steve’s doing the same thing.  Escaping. Slipping drugs to his medically fragile significant other when he needs a break to cry.  At least James had only risked his own life when he’d signed on.  It was gallant.  Steve feels disgusting by comparison.

“Steve.  Hey.  I’m not your kind of therapist, but I’m pretty sure you’re wrong.”  Sam pauses.  “Mistaken beliefs?  Is that what they’re called?  You know I don’t always pay attention in seminars.”

Steve chuckles.  “That’s right, actually.  You’d probably make a better counselor than I would right now.”

“I’ll drop off my resumé,” Sam laughs.  “But I’m serious.  We spend so much time on our patients, our clients.  It’s hard when it’s a loved one.  And it makes it even harder when you realize your limits.”

“I just ordered him a dog tag,” Steve blurts out.  It’s suddenly hilarious instead of sad, and it makes him question his sanity a little.

“That’s a good thing.  What does it say?  ‘If lost, return to Steve Rogers’?”

“Just about.”  Steve sighs and wipes his eyes.  “I just…  I really love him, Sam.  I don’t want to hurt him.  I don’t want him to hurt.  At all.  Ever.”

“You’re doing good,” Sam says firmly.  “Not everything turns out perfect, but overall, you’re doing good.”

“Hm.”  Steve’s still not entirely convinced, but Sam’s words are reassuring.

“Do you want to order a pizza?”

“What?”  Steve wonders if he heard right.

“Since I’m applying for everybody’s job, I thought I’d add pizza delivery boy to the list.  And I didn’t want to straight-up ask if you wanted company.  Since I’m not that kind of therapist.”  Steve can practically see his friend’s grin.

“Yeah,” Steve says.  “I could use some pizza.  And company.  We could use company.”

“Alright.  See you in 20?”

“Sure.”  Steve closes his laptop.  “Sounds good.”

[venactricisfics]

Connection

Negan X OC, Smut, Oral, Negan-like language. 

Prior Parts: Unexpected  What’s Life without a Little Risk Unbelievable 

@negans-network @neganmorgan @mypapawinchester@jeffreynegan @ask-kakashihatake

“When you go out there keep your mouth shut and just go along,” Laura says going through the rules of pick ups. “There’s fucked up shit that happens on the road. If it needs to happen just let it. Negan’s calling the shots. His word is the rule. Arat’s his number two today.”

“Do what he tells me no question, got it. Why aren’t you joining the pick up crew today?” I holster my gun and glance up at her hoping I wasn’t fucking everything up by tagging along.

“Simon has us setting up the outpost again. Hoping I get to be the head bitch in charge out there for once,” she laughs.

“Good luck with that,” I pull my hair back in a ponytail, “Anything I should keep an eye out for you?”

“I’m good. I gotta list of shit Carson is looking for. Just remember those assholes are the ones that killed Paula, Michelle, Donnie and Primo. They will try to convince you to help them. You look sweet so they’ll try. Just be careful,” she gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Alright?”

“I will, and you too. But you know Simon better than me,” I give her a grin.

“You know as well as I do how that itch needs to be scratched. You better get a move on.”

“I know, I don’t want to get left behind,” I head down the hallway and out the factory doors.

“Well hello to you,” I try to hide my smile at the sing songy voice of Negan’s as I step out. “Can’t get enough of me huh, sweetheart?”

“That and I’m coming along,” I glance up at him.

“Well, that tickles the shit outta me. I always wanted a little road head when I go to these things,” he smirks.

“You’re making me regret ever sucking your dick,” I respond.

“Guys are all ready to go, boss,” Arat says from behind me. My face turns a bright shade of red. I didn’t want anyone really to know that Negan and I were. Did. Hell, I don’t know what we are but I wasn’t ready for the entire Sanctuary to know.

“Don’t be silly,” he drapes his arm around my shoulders leading me in the direction of the truck, “we both know how much you loved sucking my dick.” He looks out over the group after sliding the truck door open for me, “Let’s head the fuck out.”

His words did little to change the color of my face back to its natural state but I was glad to find a seat in the back, behind the drivers, so I could regain a small piece of my dignity. “How is anyone gonna respect me if you keep telling them how good I suck dick?”

“That is a damn fucking fantastic skill, I couldn’t do it,” he chuckles, “I respect the shit out of you.” I grip the back of Arat’s seat as the truck lunges forward. “Do you respect her, Arat?”

She glances at me in her rearview.  Ninety percent of my interactions with her were strictly business. She is fierce. And fiercely loyal to Negan.

“I’ll let you know after today,” she offers me a slight smile, “I don’t have a use for her dick sucking skills.”

“Thanks,” I lean back in my seat as the road becomes steadier, quieter.  Giving me a chance to think. Or almost before Negan’s voice chimes in again.

“You should be in the lounge letting me take fucking care of you and not out here doing the fucking hot as hell work. I only do it cause I know the bullshit brigade feels more confident when I am at the fucking helm.”

I narrow my eyes at him curiously, “You asking me to be one of your wives? Cause if you are there’s no fucking way.”

“Well, actually I the fuck I was. Why wouldn’t you want to be in the lap of luxury letting your loving husband,” he gestures to himself, “take care of your every need?”

“Look, I like fucking you,” it didn’t matter at this point, Arat already knew, I wasn’t sure who knew or what but the cork couldn’t be put back in the bottle. “I want to keep liking fucking you.  I don’t want it to become my job.”

“Fair enough,” his grin widens, “You wanna come on collections and fuck some people up, I will be fucking ecstatic to have you there. If you wanna stay in your bed watching Lifetime movies, you can. I will not have you working for points anymore.” His final words firm, unyielding.

“I….” I stop my words short realizing I’d won at least the battle, if not the war.  He’d given me freedom from being his wife but also leaving the door open for possibility. “Thank you.”  

“Any fucking day I get to catch a glimpse of that fine ass of yours,” he glances back at me, a wide grin on his face, “is a good goddamn day.”

“I hate to interrupt your date,” Arat peers in the mirror again, “you get the list of meds Carlson needs?”

“I got it, he doesn’t seem to need a lot,” I pull the list from my back pocket.

“That’s your job for today, make sure Carlson’s list is taken care of,” she replies, “continue with your whatever the hell you two were doing.”

“Thanks, better than standing around and looking pretty,” I give Negan a wink, “How much further?”

“I look hot as fuck carrying Lucille on my shoulder,” he replies, “It’ll be another hour.”

“You look hot all the time, who are we fucking kidding,” I replied leaning my head against the window, “I’m gonna try to sleep until we get there to scare the shit out of some townies. And you can be the big bad wolf and blow all the shit down.” He chuckles, “I’ll give that shit some thought,” he reaches back giving my leg a squeeze, “rest need you on your A game. Unless you want to help me rub one out.”

“You have two hands,” I yawn closing my eyes.

__________________________________________

I’m jarred awake when the truck comes to a stop. “Well good morning, sunshine,” he grins back at me. “We /are/ here.” I sit up rubbing my eyes as the sign comes into to view, ‘Alexandria’.

“Nice place,” I look at the sign as he hops from the truck, “I always wanted to live in a gated community.” I take his hand letting him help me down.

“I better go ring the fucking bell,”  he gives me one of his killer grins then saunters over to bang on the gate with Lucille.

“Little pig, little pig let me /in/,” he sings. I shake my head and smile, moving up to stand near Arat, watching as the gate is opened. I couldn’t hear what the smug man on the other side of the gate said, “You /better/ be joking,” he responded, “Negan, Lucille, I know we made one hell of a first impression.”

“Who’s that?” I whisper to Arat when another man walk up behind the first. His sad blue eyes cast down in fear.

“That’s Rick,” she responded. “The prick responsible for this shit show.” I nod watching as Negan postures for the man. Swinging his bat into the skull of a dead asshole that was stumbling toward the open gate.

“Alright everybody, let’s get started, it’s a big day. You see that what I did, that was some /service/,” Negan says to Rick. I furrow my brow as he hands the other man Lucille and walks into the community.  I draw in a breath watching the terror and confusion on the townies’ faces. “Let’s get this over with,” I mutter.

“Arat!” Negan barks. And she follows with an order to move. The tension so thick between us and them it could be cut with a knife. Negan watches as I walk by leaning in to speak to Rick loudly, “Damn I have /not/ decided if I like watching her coming or going best.”

“I can still hear you,” I call back to him over my shoulder.

“That is because I was using my outside voice,” he grunted turning his attention back to Rick. I can’t help but smile to myself as I walk out of earshot.

“Is this the infirmary?” I ask one of the citizens. She nodded rolling her eyes at me before walking away. I walk up the steps and feel a hand grab my ass. Davey. Creepy fucking Davey. He always looked at me like he wanted to eat me. My eyes sharp as I turn back to him, “You touch me again and I will break your goddamn hand.”

“Bitch, you think because you’re fuckin’ the boss that makes you shit?”

“Actually,” I narrow my eyes at him, “I know it does. Now keep your fucking hands to yourself if you want to keep them attached to your body.”

“Whatever,” he pushes past me and opens the door to the house.

“Dr. Carlson needs more gloves, antibiotics, pain meds if they got any.  Amber’s mom needs anti inflammatories,” I feel wierd looking for shit for Negan’s wives. But I push that to the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t let myself get jealous over them. Hell, he’d just given me the freedom to do whatever I wanted. I’m sure there’s some kind of catch. There’s always a catch.

“Put them back!” I walk out from the supply closet seeing a kid with a patch over his eye pointing a gun at Davey.  

“Hey, kid,” I move in front of him, in hindsight, it was probably a stupid thing, “put the gun down.” The kid points the gun over our heads and fires a shot, “You said half our stuff. That’s more than half.”

“I know the deal. And I sure as shit wanted to shoot that asshole at least twice this week, but if you shoot him, shit is gonna get so much worse before it gets better, put the gun down, I don’t want to have to carry this shit out by myself,” I lock my gaze with the kid’s.  Raising them only when the door swings open behind him and the guy, Rick, walks through the door, followed by Negan.

“Carl, put it down,” Rick urges.

“They’re taking all our medicine, he said only half,” Carl responds raising his gun up higher.

“Really kid?” Negan swaggers in stopping beside me. Still smiling as he looks from the kid to me then back.

“You should go,” Carl says, “before you find out how dangerous we all are.”

“Pardon me young man. Excuse the fuck out of my goddamn French, but did you just threaten me?” he asks, “Look I get threatening Davey. But I can’t have it. Not him, not me. And sure as shit not her.”

“Carl, just put it…” Rick starts to say.

“Don’t be rude Rick, we are having a conversation here,” he cuts his eyes back to the boy, “Where was I, oh yes your giant man sized balls. No threatening us. I like you. And I don’t want to go hard proving a point. You don’t want that. I said half your shit and /half/ is what /I/ say it is.”

I watch them trying to keep myself from trembling. I knew in my gut Negan wouldn’t hurt the kid. But I couldn’t get a read on the kid or Rick. I wasn’t sure how far off the rails they actually were. This seemingly terrified people broke into the satellite station and killed twenty people in their sleep. They were the enemy. Not us.

“Do you want me to prove how serious I am /again/?” Negan continues with the boy. He sighs and hands the gun over to his father. Negan grabs it from him, “You have an absolute ass-load of guns and this little emotional outburst has made crystal clear. I can’t allow that. They’re all mine now. So tell me, where are my guns?”

I let out a breath when Rick leads them from the house. “Pack this shit up, I’ll be back.” I take the steps after them two at a time. I slow my footsteps when I catch up with them.

“You alright, baby?” Negan asks.

“I just needed some air. Too much of that manly bullshit in there,” I shoot him a wink, “I want to take a look at the guns.”

“You got it. You can help Arat with the inventory,” he grins, “I’ll give you first grab at one for yourself.” I can’t help but smile. The garage door rolls open in front of us. I lock my gaze with that of another terrified woman.

“I was expecting you,” she said her voice as shaky as she was.

“Olivia, show them the guns,” Rick stated.

“The armory’s inside,” she starts back down the hall.

“You take care of all of this?” I ask, looking at the shelves then back to her.

“I keep track of it all. The rations, the guns,” she replied.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Negan said, “Take her and the boys and show ‘em the goods.” I follow Olivia and Arat down the hallway to the next room. It was packed almost floor to ceiling with every conceivable firearm.  Olivia hands me the register, “I keep a log there.” Her hand shaky as she shows me the list of what weapons were gone out with people on runs.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” I hop up on the desk, “we’re here to keep your people from hurting us again.”  I push the inventory list to Arat. “There is a fuck ton of weapons on that list everything looks organized.”  Arat checks off each weapon as the men load them and carry them out.

“How can you be with a man like /that/?” Olivia whimpers motioning her head in the direction of the garage.

“I could ask you the same question,” I hop down and walk outside. I bite my lip grabbing a desert eagle from a stack of guns that was being carried out by Daryl.  “This is the one I want.”

Negan laughs, taking the gun from me, “This gun is as big as you are.”

“Are you saying I can’t handle something this,” I give him a smirk, “big?”

“Oh baby, I know how well you can handle big things,” he places the gun back in my hand, standing behind me, “How well have you been taking care of my guns?” his eyes turn to Rick then motions for me to fire. I point at the window and squeeze the trigger, knocking the shutter off its hinges.

“Feels good,” I hand him back the eagle, “Sounds good.”

“Baby, you trying to get me all hard and shit while I’m trying to have a discussion with my boy, Rick?”

“I wasn’t exactly trying,” I smirk pulling my .22 from its holster and replacing it with the more impressive weapon.

“Please don’t…” I turn my eyes hearing Olivia whimper as Arat shoves her up the steps.

“We don’t do that, unless /they/ do something to deserve it,” Negan states.

“Yeah,” she replies, “I went through their inventory and they’re short a Glock 9 and a .22 Bobcat.”

“Is that true?” Negan looks at Olivia who nods her head.

“The inventory is correct,” she replied.

“That’s good but also not good,” he states, “You’re two handguns short. I don’t enjoy killing women. Men, I can kill all the livelong. But Olivia, my dear, at the end of the day this was your responsibility.” My mouth opens to protest but then closes again, remembering who is actually in charge here. I couldn’t make him look weak. Not in front of these people.

“We can work this out,” Rick pleads.

“Yes, we can,” I respond, trying to hide the frustration in my voice.

“And I’m /going/ to right now,” Negan catches Olivia’s arm, “Guns were your responsibility and you screwed up.” He cuts his gaze back to Rick, “Find them /now/.” I watch Rick rush off to their church to meet with his people.

“What are you gonna do?” I ask softly, as we sit down on the patio chairs.

“I’m a man of my word, sweetheart,” he responds, “If the guns aren’t here Olivia is gonna pay the price.” I close my eyes nodding, “Alright.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Olivia, why don’t we mix up some lemonade? Get your mind off of it. If your friends are smart they’ll give up the guns.”

I tremble stirring the mix into the water looking out the window as the water turns from clear to yellow. Davey again harassing a girl. She couldn’t be more than sixteen. I look down feeling my stomach churn, my eyes watering when I carry the pitcher back outside.

Negan looks at me his normal grin fades slightly when he sees my face. “I’m fine.” I mouth, hoping there is some truth to the words. The people became more than just the enemy when they were scared shitless. The people here, most of them don’t look like they could survive five minutes outside of these walls. But they killed our people, I reminded myself.

“What you got for me Rick?” Negan’s voice interrupts my thoughts. Rick hands him a bag with the missing handguns in it. “Funny how a little ‘Holy shit! Somebody’s gonna die!’ really lights a fire under everybody’s ass.”

“Which one of your people almost killed Olivia?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he answered meekly.

“It’s a hell of a place you got here, Rick,” Negan says as we finish loading up. “You sir, are special.  We’re coming back soon. And when we do you need to have something interesting for us. No more magic guns.” Negan cuts his eyes to me with a smirk, “Let’s get home. I wanna fuck my girl before and after dinner.”  I shake my head with a smile, climbing up into the truck. I watch from the seat as he smacks a walker in the head with a candlestick. He grabs Lucille from Rick and climbs up in the truck after me.

“Jee-sus, that was one hell of a fucking tense ass shit trip,” his lips turn into a devilish smile, “Hurry home, I am hard as hell unless she’s changed her mind about that road head. It’s gonna be awhile before she blows me.”

“I haven’t changed my mind. You can wait an hour,” I move from his seat to mine in the back as the truck moves down the road, I give him a smirk, “I hope I can.”

_____________________________________________

“We’re home,” I’m not sure how long I’ve enjoyed hearing his sing songy voice.

“Good, I’m horny and hungry,” I smirk as I hop down from the truck, avoiding locking eyes with his. “I haven’t decided which itch I want to scratch first.” I open the Sanctuary doors and walk inside. I could feel his gaze follow after me before his footsteps. He catches my shoulder spinning me around pushes me against the wall, “You don’t get to say shit like that and walk away.”

“I don’t?” I rest my hands on his sides, “I was just stating a fact.” My eyes dark as I look up at him, “I was hoping you’d be the one to solve all my problems.”

“You know I will,” he smirks lifting my chin, his lips press fully against mine. I open my mouth, my tongue dancing with his. I could feel the kiss deep in my core.

“Are you gonna fuck me against the wall in front of everyone?” I break the kiss, glancing around as half the factory was looking at us, “Or take me back to your room?”

“Day-um, girl, you almost made me forget where I was,” he scoops me up throwing me over his shoulder, “The rest of you shits back to whatever the fuck you were doing.” I giggle as he carries me down the hall. He pushes open his apartment door and kicks it closed behind him, wasting no time before dropping me on the bed.

I raise up to on my elbows watching him, “I wouldn’t have objected to being fucked against the wall.” I glide my tongue over my lips, “The secret is already out.”

“I give two shits if they know,” he lowers the zipper of his jacket dropping it on the arm of the leather couch, “especially if it makes you mine.”

I toe off my boots and pop the button of my jeans, “I can’t be your wife, Negan. Not like them. I don’t /need/ you to take care of me.” I lift my hips and push my jeans down as he tugs his shirt over his head.

“Fuck, this shit isn’t supposed to be fucking complicated,” he groans moving to the bed.

“It’s less complicated when you are inside me,” I sit up fully on the bed, my hand rests on his bearded cheek and I pull his face to mine. My leg hooks around his hip and I pull him flush against me. His cock hard grinding against my damp panties through his jeans.  I smirk against his lips as I tug his belt open, dipping my hand inside his pants, stroking him long and slow.

“You are a fucking tease baby,” he groans against my lips. “Since I laid eyes on you this morning you’ve been teasing me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I shift so that we’re laying beside each other on the bed, my hand still stroking his member. “I missed you though,” I suck softly on his lower lip, then trail kisses over his jawline and down his neck. Moaning at the taste of his salty flesh. I push him to his back, smiling as he relinquishes control. My lips nibble and their way along his chest and over his stomach. His cock twitches in his pants as I press a soft kiss through them.

“Goddamn,” he utters, “I fucking missed the fuck outta you too.” He kicks his boots off and pushes his pants down, chuckling as his now free cock almost hits me in the face, “he needs your attention, baby.”

“Does he now?” I swirl my tongue around the head. “I guess I’ll have to give it to him.” I groan wrapping my lips around his head. Suckling soft, slow, savoring the taste of him. Negan’s hand reaches down stroking my hair. I take him deeper, my hand moving down massaging his balls. My lips tight and my tongue skims along his shaft, teeth grazing slightly. His grip on my hair tightens. I groan moving my mouth faster up and down his length. I slurp and suck as he begins to thrusts. I let the tip hit the back of my throat with a moan of my own. I could feel his cock thicken, twitching as he gets closer and closer.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he slows his movements, giving me back the control I need, I stroke and suck as he releases in my throat, I suck and lick and swallow each satisfying drop. “Goddamn, shit, fuck, that was good.” I smile over at him as I fall to the bed beside him. “I fucking mean it,” he looks at me, “you make me see fucking stars everytime you suck my dick. It’s fucking magical.”

“Thank you,” I watch him smiling, his pants still around his thighs, “I am glad you enjoyed.”

“I more than fucking enjoyed,” he pulls me to his chest, “Give me a minute, fuck, for my legs to work again.” I can’t help but chuckle. “You can’t fucking tell anyone that you are my fucking kryptonite.”

“Stop,” I press my face into his shoulder to quiet my laughs, “I am hungry. What do you have to eat in here since you can’t walk and take me for a proper meal?” I stand from the bed. I tug the hair tie from my hair and let it cascade down my back. He reaches down pulling his pants back up.

“I got whiskey,” he chuckles nodding at the bottle of jack on the table in the corner, “and salted nuts.”

“Is your plan to starve me into submission?” I turn back to him smiling, “I am already here.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” he sits up pulling me into his lap, his hands gripping my hips, “I can’t have you starve though. I like your ass just as it is.”

“We can go down stairs grab a tray of food from the kitchen,” I lean back against his chest, “But that would require pants.”

“I am not fucking ready for you to get back in your pants. I /just/ got you out of them.” He gives my tit a squeeze over my shirt.

I groan at his touch, my hips rolling slowly in his lap, “How do we solve this problem?”  He reaches over grabbing his walkie and calls for Fat Joey, telling him to bring some food up.

Negan wraps his arm around my waist to stop my movements. “Fuck, if you ain’t already tryin’ to make my dick hard again. I sure as shit don’t want Fat Joey walking in while I’m pounding into you.”

“I never figured you to be the shy one,” I tilt my head pressing my lips to his, “So, what do you want to do until dinner comes?” He lifts me up and drops me on the bed then plops beside me.

“Let me just have a fucking look at you,” he lays on his side and I turn to face him, “you sure you don’t wanna be my wife? You’d look hot as hell in a black dress and heels.”

“Hell no,” I push my hair out of my face, “I hate wearing dresses, can’t walk in heels. Don’t want someone to just take care of me.”

“I want to fucking take care of you,” he says, “keep you out of the shit show.”

“I can handle the shit show,” I rest my hand on his face, “I can take care of myself. Wouldn’t you rather I be with you because I want to, not because I feel obligated to? I can be yours if you want me,” I lock my gaze with his, “I just can’t be one of them.”

“Shi-ot,” he responds, “you drive one hell of a fucking bargain, baby.” He presses his lips to my forehead as his hand gropes my tit. “You are /mine/. If you keep giving me head like that I can bend the fucking rules.”  

“You are all about the rules though,” I lift my face to his pressing my lips to his, “thank you.” A knock at the door interrupts the kiss. “Dinner.” I smile as he rolls from the bed.

“Fat Joseph,” he chuckles as he opens the door, “/my/ girl wants me to feed her before I fuck her so get your ass in here with her food.” My face flushes a pink. He looks over at me, “Why you acting all bashful now?”

“Yes, sir. Negan,” he brings in the tray of food in and sets it on the table. “Anything else you need?” Joey looks from Negan to me with a dumb grin on his face.

“Don’t look at her,” Negan barked, “Get the fuck out.” He slams the door after the man.

“Looks good,” I step from the bed taking a carrot from the plate, “I used to hate eating cooked carrots.” I chew then swallow, “But now I love them. Guess a lot changes at the end of the world.”

“Come over here and sit down with me,” he pats the seat next to his, “I fucking need a closer look at those titties.”

“I was having trying to have a moment with you,” I take a seat next to him, picking up another piece of carrot.

“Nobody likes carrots,” he chuckles picking one up and taking a bite, “except fucking rabbits.” He gives my thigh a squeeze, “I think I like you better without pants. If you won’t wear a dress just a t-shirt that clings to your titties like that is fine with me.”

“I like you better without pants too. If you want to walk around the Sanctuary in just your underwear so will I,” I grab a fork and jab it into the mystery meat on my plate.

“I am the leader of the Saviors,” he grins, “and you’re my...what are we gonna call you.”

“Lover, Queen,” I smirk straddling his lap, “Goddess. Baby. Light of your life. Any one of those work for me. Or we can not have a label.”

He chuckles, sliding his hands along my thighs, cupping my ass, “I like you even more when you’re sitting in my lap like that.” He grinds up into me. I groan leaning in to kiss him.  My hand reaches between us tugging at the button of his pants to pull his cock out again. Without breaking the kiss he lifts my hips up pushes my panties aside and grins against my lips. “I love how fucking wet you get for me.” I line him up with my warm wet entrance and sink down fully on his length. “Jee-sus, baby,” he groans into my lips as I take him all the way in, “I almost forgot how fucking fantastic your pussy feels.”

“Shhh…” I moan as I start to rock my hips, my fingers clinging to his shoulders for balance as I move. His grip on my hips tightens and he thrusts up into me matching my movements. Rock for rock thrust for thrust we move together. I moan when his hand moves between us rubbing my clit causing me to squeeze tighter around him. Move faster. I groan when he lifts me laying me on my back on the couch and drives his cock hard and deep inside my warmth, hitting the spot that makes me come undone. My thighs tighten as they start to tremble around his hips and my walls pulse around him. “Fuck, Negan,” I cry out as I cum, my eyes dark as they fix on his. He pulls out stroking his cock a few times before releasing on my shirt.

“Goddamn, shit,” he chuckles his pants still almost on and covered with my juices. “I like that shit.”

“I know,” I tug my shirt up and over my head after adjusting my panties, “here’s the evidence.” I giggle tossing it in his direction.

“You did not just throw your cum covered shirt at me,” he lifts me up in his arm and swats my ass with his palm.

I squeal, “It’s your cum. Take me to bed now. You have successfully warned me out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles and carries me over to the bed. He drops me and tugs off his clothes and climbs in beside me. “Rest now.” I tuck myself in his side and close my eyes. Feeling right next to him.