#anyway guess who more than likely has ANOTHER DOUBLE EAR INFECTION

[dark-elf-writes]

Born with the body of a sickly Victorian child that needs to sleep in and be sent to the seaside for their health forced to participate in capitalism.

[fritae]

The Missing Piece (Chapter 12)

Closer.

gang! au / ceo! au

characters: dabi x f. oc, lov

status: ongoing

read on ao3 here.

a/n: i really like this chapter heh, hope u enjoy! 😚

The staircase leads all the way to basement. I wondered why they would hide such steep, hidden steps in Dabi's office when they could create (much) shorter, more accessible ones from the first floor.

But I'm guessing that's the point.

This isn't supposed to be easy to reach. And Dabi's office is the one place no one would dare enter.

Aside from us, of course.

The basement is completely dark, forcing me to draw myself even closer to Dabi. I enjoy the weight of his hand in mine. He has a firm, tight grip. But just as the thought warms my cheeks, I shake it out of my head.

Within seconds, Dabi turns on the lights.

My eyes widen, taking in the sight before me.

Blood.

A lot of it.

Though it looks dried, like it's been there for ages.

I spot a wall of different sized knives on one hand. A gun display on the other. A shelf of jars, filled with a murky looking liquid and...I don't even want to know what that is inside.

Dabi watches me.

There's a simple, plastic white table in the center of the floor with a large white board behind it.

The place is much messier and less...classy, than the rest of the Blaze.

But I have the feeling it's because it's not meant for outside eyes.

"You okay?" Dabi asks.

I nod, squeezing his hand to comfort myself.

Before the others reach the bottom, he whispers in my ear, "Whenever you want to leave, let me know. You don't have to be here."

"Okay."

"And," He takes another glance at the stairs as the others begin to appear. "Again, Rina. This place does not exist. Anything we say here does not leave this room. Got it?"

I glance warily at the knives.

"Why are you so worried?" I try to smile so he doesn't pick up on my nervousness. "I don't have anyone outside of you guys anyway. Who would I talk to?"

My comment seems to confuse him. "What about-"

"Welcome to the League!!" Toga jumps off the last few steps and swings into full view.

I shoot Dabi a look. "The League?"

"The League of Villains, of course!" Atsuhiro follows Toga, a dramatic grin on his lips. "Only the baddest group of bad boys in town."

"And girls!" Toga calls out.

"League of Villains?" I cackle. "Who came up with that?"

Tenko scowls.

Oop.

Dabi lets go of my hand and motions for me to take a seat on one of the plastic chairs.

I pick a red chair near the board.

"So what is that you guys really do?"

"I told you," Dabi says. "Special services to people willing to pay up."

Given where we are, that suddenly feels a lot more sinister than it did when he first told me.

I look back at the knives and jars in the background.

"So like, a gang? Where you steal things and hurt people if someone pays you enough? Like the movies?"

"Guess you could put it that way."

"And there's actually people that pay for this stuff?"

Dabi shrugs. "It's a niche market."

Woah.

There's a lot more questions in my head, but now is not the time. Maybe later.

As Dabi moves to take a seat, his abdomen brushes against the edge of the table and he hisses in pain.

It releases blood again.

"Fuck!" He grips the skin.

I move closer to him, gripping his hands again. "It still hurts?" I ask worriedly. "Is there anything we can do?" I look around at the others quickly.

"Yes!" Toga says, a little too eagerly.

"What is it?"

She hops over to knives behind us, and takes a moment deciding which one she wants.

She brandishes a short but sharp blade and lets out an excited squeal, as though she enjoyed this.

"Fire please!" She calls out.

What's she doing?

Dabi groans and pulls a lighter out of his pocket. He tosses it toward her, and she carefully holds it under the edge of the blade, running it up and down for several minutes until it turns red.

She's going to seal the wound so it doesn't get infected.

"Lie down, boss," She says in a sing-song voice.

I clear the few papers were scattered on the table and move so Dabi could spread himself over it.

He lifts the edge of his shirt to his midriff, and my breath catches in my throat when I see his abdomen.

The skin is covered in large swaths of reddish purple.

Like parts of it were burnt off...

I gasp.

"These are old," Dabi looks at me. He's watching me carefully, wanting to see just how I'd react. "Still want to be here?"

I swallow my anxiety as I stare at Dabi's mismatched skin. I won't give him the chance to say 'I told you so.'

This must be why he wouldn't let me dress the wound.

He didn't want me to see this.

No wonder the stab didn't phase him.

What else has his body been through...

"Here I come!" Toga grins.

She was all too eager to take the scorching knife and press it to his stomach.

Dabi clenches his teeth immediately, leaving me to hurriedly stand next to him. I squeeze his hand to soothe him, but he grips mine back so hard I think he might break it.

I brush his hair out of eyes and press my hand to his forehead to calm him.

"It's okay," I tell him softly. "It's over."

The others stare at Dabi's wound uncomfortably, like they've been under Toga's knife before.

I wonder if they have similar wounds.

Dabi releases his harsh grip on my hand and begins to breathe slower.

One things strikes me though.

Despite all the pain he's undoubtedly feeling right now, not a single tear drops from his eyes.

I think it might just be him trying not to appear weak in front of us.

But as I look into his eyes, I'm surprised to find them completely dry.

"Are you superhuman or something?" I joke with him.

He looks at me quizzically.

"All of that and you didn't cry?"

Dabi closes his eyes. "I don't cry." He grits his teeth.

I roll my eyes.

Whatever you say.

The others slowly help him sit up straight. I take the first aid kit from Atsuhiro, picking out the cotton, gauze and antibacterial wipes.

Dabi is less reluctant when I try to wrap the area this time.

"You can hold onto me if you want," I tease as I wrap the gauze around his body.

A small smirk appears on his lips. His arm suddenly snakes around my waist, pulling me close to him.

I blush and the gauze falls out of my hands.

Dabi tilts his head. "What's wrong? Thought you wanted me to hold onto you?"

The guys snicker behind us.

I push him away from me, and he laughs as I take another piece of gauze and try again.

"You guys can talk now," I tell them focused on what I'm doing. "What exactly happened today?

Did Mr. Lane find out about the League? Is that what made you a target?"

Dabi is silent.

His silence puzzles me. I look to the others to see if they knew anything.

"Dabi tried blowing up his car!" Toga volunteers.

I frown.

Could this be just because of how Mr. Lane treated me?

No. There's no reason for it to mean that much to Dabi.

Enough to get angry, sure.

To harm Mr. Lane?

Doubtful.

"Why would you blow up his car?" I ask.

Tenko pulls up a chair. "We did some research on him. He's working with some really shady people. And Dabi told us about the whole Todoroki affair."

I shoot Dabi a look.

"They're trying to trick people into thinking they're heroes. That they should be put on a pedestal and admired. There's people out there telling their kids to be like them. Meanwhile they're going around-"

"Enough," Dabi interrupts Tenko. "Point is, they're fakes. They built up their media empires off that fake image. And we're going to expose them."

"But you guys are also doing...you know," I don't know how to say it in a way that isn't offensive. "I mean, you tried blowing up his car. And I'm guessing you probably have done more...if I'm not reaching."

Their eyes harden.

"We never pretended to be good."

I know I should stay silent, but I keep going.

"Right, but you have a double image too. There's the Blaze, and then there's the League."

They shake their heads.

"The Blaze is to funnel money into the League. Yeah, sure it's a front, but those who need our services know where to find us. We can't have masses of people finding out about the other shit we do, can we?"

"But how did this all start? What are you trying to achieve?"

"We just hate hypocrites. We'll help a bad guy to bring down a worse guy. Those that act like angels in public are our favorite targets. I don't care if we have to steal, blackmail, or kill them," Dabi's eyes shine with evil. "Whatever it takes to beat their egos down. Reveal the private faces they hide. Until they're forced to show their bloody hands before the world. Someone like Enji is using Lane for media coverage. Lane is depending on him for protection and cash. We can take them both down."

"What if you get caught?"

He dismisses the question, like it's not even worth his time. "By who?" He scoffs. "Lane? As soon as we take down Enji, Lane's done for. Since he's your old boss, we can give you leeway with how badly you want us to go after him." Dabi says this like that's what I'm genuinely concerned about right now. "Lane's a scared little prick anyway, as soon as he saw me he bounced out of the car and screamed for protection." He laughs like he can picture Mr. Lane's pathetic position as we speak. "But he'll fall. Just like the rest of them."

"I meant the police, Dabi."

The question puzzles him as if he's never considered it before. But the look in his eyes tells me they're even less of a concern than Mr. Lane.

"Don't worry about that," He says. "That's the least of our problems, to be honest."

I nod.

I let them speak uninterrupted for the rest of the night. They have business to take care of, and if I keep asking questions like this, they'll never get to finish. It's enough that they waited all day for me to leave so they could start. Can't hold them up at night as well.

The Todoroki name was brought up several times, among others. It seems strange now, considering Dabi knows it was Mr. Lane's relations with Enji that led to me leaving the company the way I did. Turns out he knows a lot more about Enji than I do.

I try to keep track of the other names as well, but there's so many and I'm so tired, I can barely keep up.

"Here's where Rina comes in," Dabi continues.

My eyes widen at the mention of my name.

"Enji's using Lane for his image. Rina, you said they were working on a movie or something?"

"A documentary, yes."

"We need to make sure that shit doesn't air."

I bite my lip, trying to remember as much information as I could about the documentary. It was supposed to air already. I remember Mr. Lane saying it would be within the month.

But it hasn't yet.

Which means I need to find out more from Al.

"My roommate still works at NNTV. She's the floor manager so she might have some idea of what's going on. I can ask her."

"You sure you can trust her?" Dabi asks with a frown.

"Well, I'm not gonna tell her any details, she's the one that's gonna need to have trust in me, no?"

Atsuhiro cracks his knuckles and rubs his neck. "I don't know, I don't like the sound of that. We have our own ways of finding stuff out so-"

"It won't hurt to try," I insist, looking at Dabi since he's the one that has final say on these matters. "Having 2 avenues of information is better than 1."

Truth be told, I just want to feel useful. I want to feel like I have a role to play, not just that I'm here to "sit and watch".

I want them to feel good about me being here, not apprehensive about whether this was a good decision.

After some deliberation, Dabi sighs. He looks to the others for input. "Might as well?"

"I mean she's here," Tenko says monotonously. "Might as well use her."

Dabi nods and then turns to me. "Just don't be stupid with it. Lead her into the conversation, don't bring it up out of nowhere. She'll be curious about why you're bringing it up. Don't say anything that'll make her ask questions. The more questions she asks you, the more suspicious she'll be."

"Relax guys, I got this." I smile. "Besides, she's a chatterbox. She'll open up at the slightest nudge and go on forever. She's the one that told me about all the.." I grimace. "..issues with the Todoroki company."

Plus, she's my friend! Of course, I can trust her. We've been roommates for years. If anyone could tell me about Mr. Lane's current plans for the documentary, it'd be her.

"So it's settled!" Toga claps. She takes a marker and goes up to the white board, drawing a flow chart with all that's been discussed today. She adds my part last, circling my name and underlining it several times for emphasis, over a big red INTEL SOURCING.

The sight of that makes me smile, like I have a role to play in all of this. I look around at the others but they're all preoccupied with moving things around and discussing their own parts.

The lack of enthusiasm isn't surprising, I mean this is normal for them.

But all I can think of is how exciting it'll be if I have something to contribute the next time we meet. If they'll call me down, and look at me expectantly. I imagine the looks on their faces with glee and the thought almost makes me giddy.

"Okay, are we done here?" Dabi asks.

A bunch of 'yes'es and 'yup's fill the basement.

"Alright then," Dabi grabs a leather jacket from on the wall and checks to make sure his keys are inside. Then he walks my way and grabs my arm.

"Time for you to go home," He says, moving me in front of him.

"But-"

"Now," His eyes narrow. He moves his head in a silent nudge, telling me to turn around and make my way upstairs.

The others watch us curiously, and Toga lets out a snicker at my expense.

"I'm jealous!" She calls after us. "Wish I had someone to drive me home!"

Dabi groans, nudging me to keep moving.

"Bye guys," I wave back at them from halfway up the steps. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

They all wave warmly and I can't help thinking how grateful I am that they trusted me with this.

It feels so weird emerging out of Dabi's office like this, from a secret path that leads deep under the building. But Dabi simply presses another tile in the walls, and the entrance reseals itself, as though it never existed.

We make our way to his car, and I hurry to catch up to him. The height difference certainly doesn't help.

He unlocks the car and slides into the driver's seat. I follow into the passenger's seat and shift awkwardly in my place.

"Where do you live?" He asks as he readjusts his rearview mirror. No sooner had I told him the address, than he revved the engine and sped away from the Blaze.

The ride is quiet for a while. Regrettably so. Dabi hands me a box of disinfectants to wipe the blood off my hands. I wonder how many times he's had to do the same thing before coming into the office.

I fiddle with the hems of my shirts as I try to think of something to talk about. Dabi doesn't seem to be in as big of a rush to speak, his eyes darting from the rearview to the side mirrors periodically as we cruise down the mostly empty highway.

"Dabi?"

"Hm."

"When they said you were gone today, were you really in the basement the whole time?"

Dabi takes a moment to answer. "After I got back, yeah. Couldn't exactly walk through the front doors looking the way I did." He glances at me before switching lanes.

"Were you avoiding me?"

"Partly."

I nod. "Now that I know about the League, do you think you'd avoid me in a case like this again?"

"A case like this won't happen again."

"Okay." I respond quietly. "Cause you know I get worried."

Dabi seems to be deep in thought.

"You worry a lot for someone who's only met me a month ago."

I smile. "Well, of course. We're friends aren't we?"

Dabi spares me a look before switching lanes again. "Right." But he doesn't look like he fully believes me.

"You think you'll be able to handle your friend?" He changes the subject.

"Who, Aliyah? Of course! I told you, we're really good friends and she's the kind of person that loves gossiping anyway. It'll be a piece of cake."

He grunts. "Okay. Because to be honest, that's part of why I wanted you at the Blaze."

I don't know why hearing that makes me feel slightly sad, but it does. "The documentary?"

"Yeah. I mean you work in the media industry. You'd know about that stuff. People like Enji have the industry wrapped around their palms. When you told me he was cozying up to NNTV, I figured you'd be the person to handle all of that for me."

I nod. "So why haven't you asked me before today?" Come to think of it, he even sounded reluctant about agreeing.

"I don't know," He sighs. "Still not sure I want you mixed up with all of this."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not even a member, remember? I'm just getting information for you," I tease. "What's so dangerous about that?"

"That's what worries me," Dabi glances at me, his brows pulled together. "That's all you see it as."

"What am I supposed to see it as?"

"What it is," Dabi gets increasingly agitated, but he tries to keep himself calm. "I'm not sure you're taking this seriously enough, Rina. The closer you get to us, the more at risk you are. The more people that know you work for me, especially what kind of work," He looks dead serious. "The more danger you'll be in."

I roll my eyes. "But no one knows anything about you, Dabi. I've been here for a month and I'm only just finding out about all of this. And I'm sure there's much more I don't know. How would people outside of the League even find out?"

"Same way we find out shit about them. Lane's using his Todoroki connections to supply him with information and protection. They're good at what they do."

My mouth drops. "You mean the Todorokis know about you?"

"Well," Dabi's jaw hardens. "They think they do."

I wait for him to say more, but he leaves it at that. We ride the rest of the distance in silence.

Once we pull up in front of my apartment complex, I try to put a smile on my face.

"Thanks Dabi." I tell him as I unlock the door.

He nods without looking at me. "See you tomorrow."

Those words trigger me immediately and I let go of the handle.

"Don't say that."

Dabi looks confused.

"You said that yesterday and had no intention of seeing me." I cross my arms. "You broke your promise."

"Don't be dramatic, no one says that shit as a promise."

"See you tomorrow means I'll see you tomorrow," I tell him seriously. "Otherwise, just say goodbye or something else."

He leans his head forward against the steering wheel and sighs. "It's just a stupid phrase, you're overthinking it."

I frown.

"See you tomorrow," He gives up. But still, I don't leave.

"I mean it!" He says. "I. Will. See. You. Tomorrow. Good enough?"

I grin. "Mhm, thank you!" I lean over to give him a quick hug before I leave, and he immediately recoils, like my body was made of ice.

"Handsy, aren't you," He mutters, craning his neck to look at me, without getting too close.

I pull away.

"Always have to ruin the moment, don't you," I counter, slightly disappointed. I turn to open the door, and suddenly feel him pull me back in.

"How do you do that?" His voices comes out low and raspy.

I look into his eyes. "Do what?"

There's that frustration in his eyes again.

"Fucking making me feel bad about shit I'd never fucking feel bad about." He growls.

The way he says it makes me blush.

"Cut that shit out."

"Yes sir," I mumble.

He leans his head back.

Then, he hesitantly opens his arms.

I shake my head, pulling my purse over my shoulder again. "Not gonna force you to do something you don't want to do."

I open the door this time, and just as I'm about to step out of his car, he pulls my arm again - harder this time, and I fall back into the bend of his arm.

My heart is pounding faster. I shake my hair from my face to get a better look at Dabi in the dark.

"Why are you so much fucking work," He mutters, his face inches away from mine. I swallow.

He leans forward to hug me closer to his chest. The leather jacket feels surprisingly smooth against my cheek, and my hand finds the back of his seat to balance myself, careful of coming near his wound. He holds me to him for a few long breaths and I smile against his chest, knowing he can't see me right now.

When we pull away, I look at his face once more. But Dabi avoids my gaze.

"You don't have to play along with me," I tell him, a teasing smile on my lips. "I'll only expect more from you next time."

"See you tomorrow," He mumbles, still without facing me. His foot is on the brakes but he's already pulling the gear shift into Drive.

And then, just before I leave for good and with no time to think this through -

I press my lips on his cheek.

Dabi's eyes widen immediately and he looks at me in alarm. "What-"

"Bye Dabi!" I wave with a laugh as I hurry out of his car. I run to the door of my building, grateful for the dark to hide my red cheeks.

Dabi remains in front of the building for a moment, his head still turned my way in shock.

I close the door behind me but hurry to the window, peeking the corner of my head out just in time to catch him shaking his head and rubbing a tired hand across his eyes.

There's no way to describe the relief and warmth in my chest, when he eventually pulls out of his spot.

But just before he can drive off, I swear I feel him smirk at the window.

As if he can hear the adrenaline thrumming in my veins.

[octoberobserver]

“Just To Dream In The Moonlight” - (Eddie Can Sing)

Richie Tozier was on a date.

Eddie Kaspbrak was not.

Instead, he was at home, the home he had been sharing with Richie for five months now, hunched over his laptop at the kitchen table and steadily building up a knot in the base of his spine because he was too fucking old for this shit.

Fuck his life.

He had died, come back, divorced his wife, moved half-way across the country, only to find himself working from home on a Saturday night while his roommate, best friend and, oh yeah, love of his pathetic fucking life, went out to dinner with some handsome, single, ‘Instagram model.’ 

I mean, what the fuck even is that anyway?

Eddie knew this day would come, of course. Had seen it almost instantly after Richie came out, live on stage.

Richie was a catch. He was funny, smart, and…yeah, he’d admit, handsome. Bev was right. He did ‘grow into his looks.’ 

So, it didn’t take a genius to realise that him coming out would soon draw the attention of all the eligible men within a hundred mile radius and for them to show their interest. They’d be fools not to.

And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Kaspbrak?

With a groan, Eddie dragged a palm down his face, snapping his laptop shut and pushing it away from him.

He had to cut out this wallowing bullshit. It wasn’t a good look, at all. 

Richie was on a date and that was…good.

Right?

Eddie, as a good friend, should think that’s a good thing.

Then again - has Eddie always been a good friend? 

With a roll of his eyes, he shut down that line of thinking, knowing it was the blame of the two glasses of wine he had just inhaled while pouring over Teddy’s illegible ‘reports’ while trying to ignore what Richie could possibly be doing right about now.

Or who, his mind added scathingly. 

Shaking his head, Eddie mentally-scolded himself for his stupid, jealous streak. 

Richie had left just over an hour ago, throwing him a half-hearted wave, muttering a low, “Won’t be long, Eds. Trust me,” and snapping the door shut behind him.

It hardly screamed a guy who intended on having a little Wham, Bam, Thank you, Sam. 

Not that there’s anything wrong with a one-night-stand. Richie is a consenting adult, Eddie’s treacherous brain reminded him. 

Despite this, Richie had insisted, all this week that it was “practically a business dinner.” Something that his publicist had apparently set up that was more than a little mandatory for some bullshit-Hollywood-reason. 

Richie had not seemed too psyched about it either. Lamenting to Eddie more than once that he didn’t have time for “aging-ex-Disney-stars-looking-for-the-ultimate-selfie-or-whatever.”

But that had been before he had seen the picture.

Up-and-coming actor and singer, Dylan Lemass was…hot. Even Eddie could concede that.

And, he was a little more age-appropriate (at 33) than most guys DMing Richie at four in the morning.

Richie hadn’t been quite quick enough at hiding his impressed eyebrow quirk at the picture sent to him by Bev after some googling. 

“He looks…nice,” Eddie had ground out through clenched jaw, heart panging as Richie began to nod.

“Uh, yeah. I guess. If…if that’s your type.” 

“Richie, that guy is everybody’s type.” 

He had looked at Eddie then, something indecipherable on his face. 

“I’m not usually into…blonds.” 

Usually.

That had been the only word to ring in Eddie’s head. 

“Well,” he forced himself to shrug, punching Richie harder than he intended on the shoulder, “just see how it goes. You never know…he might…he might be your Mr Right.” 

Fuck, actually, Eddie was a damn good friend, okay? He had encouraged Richie, “Mr Right” and all that shit, and helped him pick between two (admittedly ugly) shirts and everything. 

He was friend of the fucking year.

Friend.

Just a friend.

With a sigh, he crossed to the fridge, fully intending to help himself to the leftover cheesecake that Richie had bought them in celebration of four months of Eddie allowing himself dairy again.

“I know you belong to somebody new,” he sang under his breath, the old song he had heard on the radio this morning continuing to be an ear-worm, “but tonight, you belong to me.” 

He crossed the kitchen to get a spoon from the drawer, because it was an eating-straight-from-the-container-despite-that-being-gross kinda night, and sticking it directly into the strawberry mousse. 

“Although we’re apart, you’re a part of my heart,” he continued, cheesecake in one hand and picking up his half-empty glass with the other, making his way out to the couch.

“But tonight, you belong to—”

“A bit of Eddie Vedder, huh? Eddie squared, I like it.” 

He jumped so high that his red wine sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the glass.

“Fuck, Richie! Don’t scare me like that, dipshit!” 

The man in question snorted out a laugh from his position at the front door, keys still in hand, jacket half off one shoulder.

“I did say ‘honey I’m home,’ Eds. Not my fault you were too busy crooning to notice.” 

Eddie’s face flushed as he collected himself, carefully depositing his glass and cheesecake on the coffee table before straightening up and tilting his head at his friend. 

“You’re home early.” 

He didn't mean for it to sound as accusatory as it did. 

He winced.

“I mean, uh…how’d the date go?” 

Richie’s face was pretty expressionless as he shrugged.

“We wined, dined and sixty-nined. Just how I like it.” 

Eddie’s mouth dropped open.

“Wha—”

“I’m kidding, Eddie, Jesus,” Richie held up his hands as he kicked off his shoes, leaving them by Eddie’s on the rack by the door and padding over in his socks to the couch, sinking down into it with a loud sigh.

“It went exactly like I thought it would,” he mumbled to the ceiling, slipping his glasses up his forehead to rest in his hair, his eyes falling closed.

Eddie watched him for a moment, unsure what to do, before taking a seat beside him, turning to properly look at him.

He seemed…tired. Weary. 

Sad?

Shit.

Time for Eddie to be a good friend. 

“Well, fuck that guy, Rich,” he reached out and clasped Richie’s arm. “He’s clearly a dumbass if he can’t see what a fucking catch you are.” 

Slowly, those dark eyes that Eddie loved so much blinked open, meeting his with something indistinguishable glimmering in them.

“Thanks, Eddie.” 

It was the most sincere Eddie had heard his friend be in a long time.

It made his heart skip a beat.

Quietly, he reached out and picked up the glass and cheesecake, holding it out.

“Wanna watch that new Chris Hansen exposé?” 

A small smile crossed Richie’s face, breaking through the weariness like a soothing balm.

“Sounds like a plan, Eds Spagheds.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, throwing the remote at him before standing up.

“I’m opening another bottle. Don’t start without me.” 

He crossed the room, into the kitchen and towards the fridge. 

“He couldn’t sing for shit either, Eds,” Richie called after him, sounding pained. “He made me suffer through like four YouTube videos of him squawking his way through covers. I wanted to use the steak knife to stab out my own eardrums. It was fucking torture, man. You’re a hell of a lot nicer to listen to.” 

Eddie froze, bottle in hand, the soft, unthinking compliment making him blush from head to toe. 

“Eddie Vedder is technically a cover too,” he reminded him as he fought (and failed) to keep the grin from his face.

“Yeah, I know but…least it’s not the Patience and Prudence version. Talk about creepy. That’s some Children-of-the-Corn-type shit.”

Eddie snorted out a laugh as he made his way back into the living room, sinking down into the couch, his stomach lurching as his thigh pressed against Richie’s.

Richie held out his cheesecake-topped spoon, dangling it in Eddie’s face and making obnoxious airplane noises.

“Want some before I infect it with my Trashmouth germs, Eds? It’s a one time deal. I know how you feel about double-dipping.” 

Eddie leaned forward, closing his mouth around the spoon, eyes gluing to Richie’s as he swallowed the bite and pulled back slowly.

Richie’s eyes were the size of saucers, clearly shocked that Eddie had called his bluff.

“Uh, I…” he cleared his throat, “it’s good?” 

Eddie smirked, “Yeah, it’s good.” 

“Cool.” 

They lapsed into a short silence, Richie shifting to face the TV just as Chris Hansen popped up and launched into his latest case.

“Thanks, Eds. For the uh…cheesecake.” 

He nodded, deciding not to comment as Richie kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, his shoulder pressing into his as he slowly, carefully, raised the spoon to his own lips.

Eddie blushed like a teenager as he kept his gaze firmly on the TV, trying not to think about the fact that Richie so easily put his mouth somewhere Eddie just had his.

At about the twenty-five minute mark, Eddie felt a soft, familiar pressure close to his neck.

Tilting his head ever so slightly, he saw that Richie had fallen asleep, his cheek pressed into Eddie’s shoulder, his glasses askew.

A small smile spread across his face as Eddie let his own head tip back a little, resting against the couch, the lyrics of that godforsaken song flittering into his brain.

“Wait down by the stream, how sweet it will seem, once more just to dream in the moonlight…” 

(Read the entire series here)

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 20: Together

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Before they even made it over the threshold of the kitchen door, Emrys was upon them. “I’ve never seen such a sorry sight,” the old male hissed. “Blood and dirt and leaves over every inch of you both.”

He wasn’t wrong. And Emrys seemed to sense an easy victory. Their confrontation earlier had apparently only emboldened him. Not that Rowan was going to challenge the old male – Rowan deserved what he got. Not only for endangering all of them this afternoon, but for what he’d said to Aelin last night, what he’d said to her these past weeks.

Rowan could see Luca huddled by the fire, and the boy seemed alright. There wasn’t any visible damage anyways, and that was enough for Rowan. He wondered if the boy had told Emrys and Malakai about what had happened. He doubted it – Emrys was upset, but not that upset.

“No better than alley cats, brawling at all hours of the day and night,” the old male said, slamming two bowls of stew onto the worktable which Rowan sat before without a word of protest. “Eat, both of you. And then get cleaned up. Elentiya, you’re off kitchen duty tonight and tomorrow.”

Aelin was still standing in the entryway, and she seemed like she was about to protest, but Emrys held out a hand to stop her. “I don’t want you bleeding on everything. You’ll be more trouble than you’re worth.”

Rowan was already digging in to the warm stew. Perhaps it was just because of the near-death experience, or the burns currently throbbing on his arms, but it tasted even better than usual. Rich and tender and delectable.

Aelin sat next to him on the bench, swearing viciously, her face scrunched up in pain and anger. Rowan clenched his jaw. He couldn’t tell if the curses were from pain or irritation at Emrys’ declaration or if they were directed towards himself.

She stretched her right leg, wincing and cursing again. That had been the leg he’d kicked. A small measure of shame stole through him. It didn’t matter whether the curses were from pain or not – they were definitely for him.

“Clean out your mouth, too, while you’re at it,” Emrys snapped from the hearth.

A moment passed while Aelin seemed to settle into the bench, still wincing and looking at Emrys and Malakai as if she was planning on biting their heads off. Then she began to eat, and shifted back into her human form.

Emrys approached bearing a loaf of bread, saying, “Makes no difference to me whether your ears are pointy or round, or what your teeth look like. But,” he added, looking at Rowan, “I can’t deny I’m glad to see you got in a few punches this time.”

Rowan snapped his head up, meeting the old male’s gaze. His eyes seemed to say, You deserved far worse for what you’ve done to that child. 

Emrys’ voice was hard, but not cruel. More...stern, as he said, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough of beating each other into a pulp?”

Malakai stiffened, but Emrys went on in spite of his mate’s obvious anxiety. “What good does it accomplish, other than providing me with a scullery maid whose face scares the wits out of our sentries? You think any of us like to hear you two cursing and screaming every afternoon? The language you use is enough to curdle all the milk in Wendlyn.”

The atmosphere in the kitchen was tense, and Rowan knew they were all expecting him to be furious, to react in some way to the challenge the old male was setting. To lash out.

Instead, Rowan just lowered his head and mumbled an apology into his stew.

Surprise, and wicked amusement flashed through Aelin’s scent. Rowan almost thought he saw her lips curl into a fierce grin out of the corner of his eyes. But before he could glance up and confirm the look, Aelin stood and walked over to kneel at the old male’s feet.

She apologized profusely, to Emrys, Luca, and Malakai. For disrespecting their kindness, for hurting them with her careless words, for walking out on them that morning. Shame wafted through her scent, riddling it through with its noxious reek.

Malakai and Luca quietly muttered their acceptance, though Emrys only nodded. He was still wary. Hurt even. The grief from that morning had not yet left him, and though he had clearly forgiven her, it would be a while before everything was alright once more.

Emrys lowered his hand to help her from her crouch, saying, “I accept your apology, Elentiya. And I know you mean it, because I know who you are. All the elder Fae here do, for we knew your mother. She worked here in her youth. Fighting to convince the Fae of Doranelle that the demi-Fae should have a place in their realm.”

Aelin kept very still as Emrys spoke, and unlike Rowan, she didn’t seem all that surprised by the revelation. Though she was obviously discomforted by it, as she always was by the truth of her identity.

They ate the rest of their dinner in near-silence, and soon the kitchens began to fill for the evening, demi-Fae entering for the nightly meal and hearthside storytelling. Only a few did a double take upon seeing Aelin and Rowan together on the bench, their eyes glancing over their swollen and lacerated faces, covered in each other’s blood.

When Aelin stood to wash up after the meal, Rowan joined her, surprise coloring her scent and widening her eyes. He ignored it.

They washed the dishes together in quiet companionship, with only the sound of the swish of water and clink of china. But after only a few minutes of this, Aelin spoke, breaking the silence. “We had an adventure today.”

Rowan’s eyes shot up. She was looking right at Emrys, her eyes shining, and Luca was grinning with pure delight from the corner table. Malakai however, was not amused.

Malakai set down his spoon and said, “Let me guess: it had something to do with that roar that sent the livestock into pandemonium.”

Aelin’s eyes crinkled. “What do you know of a creature that dwells in the lake under …” She glanced at Rowan questioningly.

“Bald Mountain. And he can’t know that story,” Rowan said dismissively. “No one does.”

Emrys stared right back at him, his face tight with anger. “I am a Story Keeper,” he said indignantly, “And that means that the tales I collect might not come from Fae or human mouths, but I hear them anyway.”

Emrys sat down at the table, folding his hands in front of him and obviously settling in to tell the night’s tale. Rowan couldn’t help but feel skeptical. His mother’s story had been passed through his family – and tales of Brannon and Athril were frowned upon in Doranelle. No matter how wise this male was, he couldn’t know what Rowan did. Could he?

“I heard one story, years ago,” Emrys began, “From a fool who thought he could cross the Cambrian Mountains and enter Maeve’s realm without invitation. He was on his way back, barely clinging to life thanks to Maeve’s wild wolves in the passes, so we brought him here while we sent for the healers.”

Malakai murmured, “So that’s why you wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace.” Emrys gave his mate a wry smile, their eyes meeting in a shared look of love and deep affection. Obviously, this was how they had met, all those years ago.

Emrys continued. “He had a fierce infection, so at the time I thought it might have been a fever dream, but he told me he found a cave at the base of the Bald Mountain. He camped there, because it was raining and cold and he planned to be off at first light. Still, he felt like something was watching him from the lake. He drifted off, and awoke only because the ripples were lapping against the shore – ripples from the center of the lake. And just beyond the light of his fire, out in the deep, he spied something swimming. Bigger than a tree or any beast he’d ever seen.”

“Oh, it was horrific,” Luca cut in, his voice bright and excited.

“You said you were out with Bas and the other scouts on border patrol today!” Emrys gave Rowan a look that suggested he’d better test his next meal for poison.

Rowan kept his gaze even and level, and soon Emrys was once again lost in thought, absorbed by his tale. Though perhaps his face now had a slightly darker cast. Damn that talkative child.

“What the fool learned that night was this: the creature was almost as old as the mountain itself. It claimed to have been born in another world, but had slipped into this one when the gods were looking elsewhere. It had preyed upon Fae and humans until a mighty Fae warrior challenged it. And before the warrior was through, he carved one of the creature’s eyes out – for spite or sport – and cursed the beast, so that as long as that mountain stood, the creature would be forced to live beneath it.”

Emrys paused for a moment. Rowan had been wrong – Emrys knew whereof he spoke, even if he didn’t know the specifics. Didn’t know that it had been Athril and Brannon who had battled the monster, and cursed it. But perhaps Rowan could use this to his advantage.

“So it has dwelled in the labyrinth of underwater caves under the mountain. It has no name – for it forgot what it was called long ago, and those who meet it do not return home.”

Rowan stared directly at Emrys, his head cocked ever so slightly to the side. His chest ached slightly, the blood oath twisting as he pushed at its restrictions. Rowan glanced at Aelin, making sure she was listening, then asked, “Who was the warrior who carved out its eye?”

“The fool didn’t know, and neither did the beast. But the language it spoke was Fae – an archaic form of the Old Language, almost indecipherable. It could remember the gold ring he bore, but not what he looked like.”

Aelin started, her fingers reaching for the ring in her pocket. If she did not already understand, she soon would. The ring she bore was Athril’s, the sword Brannon’s. She would put it together, and could plan. Could figure out how to use this weapon he had given her – a weapon to bargain with.

It was all Rowan could do for her, all he could give her to defend herself against Maeve during their inevitable meeting. Perhaps, if she played her cards exactly right, Aelin could walk out of the city of rivers better off than she had entered it.

Rowan reached for a glass of water, the next dish in the long line of washing. He had forgotten just how mind-numbing the task was. But as he moved, the sleeve of his jacket shifted, and brushed against his throbbing wrists. The burns were even worse, the skin red and inflamed. He couldn’t hold in a wince, and he thought Aelin might have noticed.

But before either of them could say anything, Aelin to express remorse or Rowan to reject her sympathy, Emrys interrupted them, pinning Rowan down with a hard stare. “No more adventures.”

Instead of meeting the old male’s hard eyes, Rowan turned to look at Luca. Though the boy was indignant, his body tense with irritation at Emrys’ overprotectiveness, he was barely more than a child. And Rowan had nearly gotten him killed today.

“Agreed.”

But the old male didn’t back down. “And no more brawling.”

This time, Rowan met Aelin’s fierce gaze, uncertainty coursing through him. It felt as though he and Aelin had launched themselves over a cliff and into empty space, and he had no idea what the hell the bottom of the chasm would look like.

So he kept his face blank as he said, “We’ll try.”

···

Rowan went up to his rooms in silence, his every step burdened by the screaming pain in his wrists. But he refused to go the healers, nor to sneak into the storeroom where they kept their salves and tinctures. Or to heal the burns with his own magic.

Instead, he just trudged up the stairs, pushing open his door and collapsing on his bed, exhausted. He hadn’t slept last night, and the day had been long. Perhaps one of the longest of his very long life.

But sleep wouldn’t come.

His muscles refused to relax, his mind endlessly circling. The same images kept reappearing behind his eyes: Luca scrambling, his eyes wide with terror; the creature’s red eye appearing through the hole in the ice; and Aelin, standing barely inches from the lake monster, her shoulders set, half in a crouch, utterly defenseless but ready to protect the boy with her life if it proved necessary.

Aelin, not an assassin, but a warrior. A soldier.

Rowan lay awake on his bed for nearly an hour before he gave up and moved to sit in the chair beside the worktable. His fingers automatically reached for anything he could use to distract himself, and they happened upon the map of the western edge of Doranelle. The map of the area between Mistward and the sea, where the locations of each of the five dead demi-Fae were carefully marked.

But the ink swam before his eyes.

His wrists ached all the way down to the bones, but that wasn’t what distracted him. Instead he was thinking of the feeling of weightlessness that still coursed through him. As if he were falling, had lost his tether and was treading water, far out to sea. As if he were lost, and did not know the way.

Rowan didn’t think he’d known for a long while.

He’d wandered aimlessly for so long, traveling without stars or compass to guide him for so many years that he’d become numb to it. It hadn’t bothered him, the aimlessness, the purposelessness. He hadn’t even thought about it.

Now, it was as though a candle had been lit, the fog cleared. It was like he had been slowly brought back to consciousness after a long sleep, and now he had absolutely no idea where he was.

And all the while, Aelin’s fierce eyes, her smell, the very taste of her blood, echoed within him. A nagging, persistent reminder. I am here, I am here, I am here.

A soft knock at the door.

“What?” Rowan snapped, jerked from his brooding.

The door clicked open, allowing the intruder’s scent to waft into the small space. Once again, Aelin had decided to pay him a visit. It was like his thoughts had manifested her from the ether.

Only tonight, with this visit, Aelin’s scent was entwined with a faint, tentative guilt. A soft, cloying odor heavy on his tongue – like dust and rotten fruit. Entirely opposite to last nights’ intrusion.

She pushed the door open soundlessly, and made one short step into the small space. Rowan turned to face her as she took in every detail of his quarters, surprised to find that this time, he wasn’t infuriated by her imposition.

“What do you want?”

Aelin said nothing at first, her eyes roving over his bare chest, her face blank. She took in every detail of his tattoo, cataloguing his every scar. There was no desire in her gaze, only a mild curiosity. So Rowan tolerated her look, waiting until her gaze stopped to rest on the burns she’d given him, now aching red manacles around his wrists.

She tossed the salve to him. “I thought you might want this.”

He caught it with one hand, but his eyes remained on her. “I deserved it.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad.”

He turned the tin over and over between his fingers. He didn’t understand why she would care about his pain. “Is this a bribe?”

“Give it back, if you’re going to be a pain in my ass.” She held out her hand for the tin, but instead of handing it over, Rowan closed it in his fist, then set it on the worktable.

“You could heal yourself, you know. Heal me, too. Nothing major, but you have that gift.”

Aelin hesitated, her brow furrowed. “It’s – it’s the drop of water affinity I inherited from Mab’s line. My mother –” another pause, this time with a grimace of pain, “told me that the drop of water in my magic was my salvation – and sense of self-preservation.”

Rowan nodded, and she continued, “I wanted to learn to use it like the other healers – long ago, I mean. But never was allowed to. They said…well, it wouldn’t be all that useful, since I didn’t have much of it, and Queens don’t become healers.”

Aelin’s words tapered off, her gaze turned inwards, remembering. Rowan almost felt as though it was he who was intruding, though it was she who had come, uninvited, to his rooms twice in two days.

It was awkwardness that caused his next words to fall from his mouth, “Go to bed. Since you’re banned from the kitchen tomorrow, we’re training at dawn.”

Aelin turned without another word, but as she moved her scent filled with a deep ache, almost sorrow, and her ashes coated his throat.

Rowan had learned more about the princess this past day than he had in all of the previous weeks. Still, there was much to learn, much to uncover. But his picture of her was far more complete, far less impressionistic than it had been even yesterday.

She had given him a few of her truths, a few of the secrets she held close to her heart. And he had given her nothing in return. She knew nothing of him – not his age, his family, his purpose, his history. Rowan knew of some of the death that weighed on her heart, but she knew nothing of what weighed on his. Knew nothing of Lyria.

And it didn’t seem…fair, somehow. Didn’t seem like an even exchange.

Rowan felt that he owed Aelin, but it was more than that. He couldn’t bear for her to leave, for both of them to fall asleep that night, with these words still dammed up inside him. He couldn’t stand the thought of the princess not knowing, not understanding why. Rowan knew about her grief, but she had no idea that it was shared. That they both had been left alone.

So before Aelin could walk out of his room Rowan spoke.

“Wait. Shut the door.”

There was a pause, but then the door clicked, and Rowan heard the rustle of clothes and groan of wood as Aelin leaned against the entrance, waiting for him to speak.

He breathed deep. Once. Twice. Again.

“When my mate died, it took me a very, very long time to come back.”

A breath from behind him. “How long ago?” she asked.

“Two hundred three years, twenty-seven days ago.”

It was either fate or luck or the gods themselves that had Rowan first meet Aelin on the anniversary of Lyria’s death. Or maybe Maeve had planned it that way on purpose. He certainly wouldn’t put it past her.

Rowan gestured to his tattoo. “This tells the story of how it happened. Of the shame I’ll carry until my last breath.”

Cold understanding emanated from Aelin. “Others come to you to have their own grief and shame tattooed on them.”

“Gavriel lost three of his soldiers in an ambush in the northern mountains. They were slaughtered. He survived. For as long as he’s been a warrior, he’s tattooed himself with the names of those under his command who have fallen. But where the blame lies has little to do with the point of the markings.”

“Were you to blame?” a soft, level question. From one killer to another. Rowan turned slowly to face her, not quite all the way, but enough to give her a sidelong glance.

“Yes. When I was young, I was…ferocious in my efforts to win valor for myself and my bloodline. Wherever Maeve sent me on campaigns, I went. Along the way, I mated a female of our race. Lyria.”

It had been so long since he said her name aloud, so long since he spoke of her without someone flinching, or skirting around it, avoiding it like the plague. Afraid of Rowan’s reaction. But Aelin’s even gaze did not shift one inch.

“She sold flowers in the market in Doranelle. Maeve disapproved, but…when you meet your mate, there is nothing you can do to alter it. She was mine, and no one could tell me otherwise. Mating her cost me Maeve’s favor, and I still yearned so badly to prove myself. So when war came calling and Maeve offered me a chance to redeem myself, I took it. Lyria begged me not to go. But I was so arrogant, so misguided, that I left her at our mountain home and went off to war. I left her alone.”

For the first time, Rowan’s eyes met Aelin’s, and in them, Rowan could almost see her words from the previous night echoing through her mind. You left me.

Her face softened, but it wasn’t in pity. It was in understanding.

“I was gone for months, winning all that glory I so foolishly sought. And then we got word that our enemies had been secretly trying to gain entrance to Doranelle through the mountain passes.”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair, and scratched at his face. He had never given this story to anybody, had never needed to, and the words and images and memories cracked the ice in his veins and shot him through with acid.

“I flew home. As fast as I’d ever flown. When I got there, I found that…found she had been with child. And they had slaughtered her anyway, and burnt our house to cinders. When you lose a mate, you don’t …” he shook his head, his jaw clenched tight, his heart in his throat.

“I lost all sense of self, of time and place. I hunted them down, all the males who hurt her. I took a long while killing them. She was pregnant – had been pregnant since I’d left her. But I’d been so enamored with my own foolish agenda that I hadn’t scented it on her. I left my pregnant mate alone.”

Aelin’s voice broke as she asked him the question, that same question he had thrown at her in the woods that evening. “What did you do after you killed them?”

“For ten years, I did nothing. I vanished. I went mad. Beyond mad. I felt nothing at all. I just…left. I wandered the world, in and out of my forms, hardly marking the seasons, eating only when my hawk told me it needed to feed or it would die. I would have let myself die – except I…couldn’t bring myself …” the words trailed off, the memories almost overwhelming.

Rowan cleared his throat. “I might have stayed that way forever, but Maeve tracked me down. She said it was enough time spent in mourning, and that I was to serve her as prince and commander – to work with a handful of other warriors to protect the realm. It was the first time I had spoken to anyone since that day I found Lyria. The first time I’d heard my name – or remembered it.”

“So you went with her?” a wry question.

“I had nothing. No one. At that point, I hoped serving her might get me killed, and then I could see Lyria again. So when I returned to Doranelle, I wrote the story of my shame on my flesh. And then I bound myself to Maeve with the blood oath, and have served her since.”

They sat in silence for one long moment, both pulled deep within themselves. It was a companionable silence, one of shared grief and pain. A silence that Rowan had only ever shared with Gavriel.

Then Aelin spoke, her voice hesitant again. “How – how did you come back from that kind of loss?” Her face was open, her eyes wide. An honest, earnest question. One he had no answer to.

“I didn’t. For a long while I couldn’t. I think I’m still … not back. I might never be.”

Aelin nodded, her lips pressed tight, and glanced away from him and towards the window. Her scent roiled with that ancient grief, a sadness that marked her, aged her far beyond her years. Silver lined her eyes.

Rowan knew that her face was a mirror to his. That it always had been.

Aelin knew what is was to be crippled at your very core, understood the icy grief that coated his every word, his every step, because she had her own to match. And with that realization, with that inescapable truth, Rowan couldn’t help but trust her.

To trust this foreign princess with a small piece of his shattered heart. To trust that she would take it without grinding it into dust. That Aelin could see that deep, dark part of himself and would not look away from it. That perhaps, he no longer had to be so completely alone.

“But maybe,” the words escaped him quietly, softly. Aelin turned to look back at him. “Maybe we could find the way back together.”

“I think,” she said, “I would like that very much.”

The soft, tentative whisper was a brush of heat over his icy heart. The first rays of dawn over the snow-capped mountains. Deep in his chest, Rowan felt the aching warmth of hope yawn its golden head, the strongest he could remember feeling since the death of his mate.

Rowan held out his hand. “Together, then.”

For one small, infinite moment, Aelin hesitated, studying his hand intently. But then she reached out a small, scarred palm and took his outstretched hand in hers.

“Together,” she said, her voice defiant, yet soft.

Perhaps it was an illusion of the faint firelight, but as Aelin took his hand, Rowan thought he could see the gold in her eyes flicker and twitch, a living flame coaxed from slumber.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[gumnut-logic]

Together

This little piece is for @ak47stylegirl who has been having a bad time recently. Hopefully this will bring you a little smile when you wake up in the morning ::hugs::

-o-o-o-

Scott came home exhausted.

Sure, ultimately, he had had John on board and the mission had been a success, but still flying Thunderbird Three was very different from flying Thunderbird One.

Once the great red ‘bird was silent in her gantry and he had finished post-flight checks, he activated the pilot retrieval process and the mechanics pulled him backwards and disembarkation took over.

The system dumped him in the locker room and he dragged himself into a shower and into his clothes.

He would have then dragged himself into bed, but his body was demanding sustenance and honestly, he really needed to check on Virgil and Gordon who were still on the other side of the planet digging up a mudslide.

So one am found him stumbling into the comms room. It was dark, the only light was moonlight, but it was enough to sketch out the room, ghost the portraits and give him enough guidance to make his way to his father’s desk. He could have activated the lights, but the dark was restful and calming after the screaming of emergency lighting and terrified people.

“Scott?”

The voice out of nowhere scared his adrenal glands into sudden production and he let out a decidedly high-pitched yelp.

A lump moved on the circular lounge and he stumbled backwards.

It really was a sign of exactly how exhausted he was.

“You okay?” The voice was small and tentative and...decidedly snotty.

“Alan? What the hell are you doing up?! You should be asleep.”

“Wanted to wait for you.”

His heart began to slow, its frantic beating still loud in his ears. “Does Grandma know you’re up?”

“Nooo.”

Scott sighed. This is why he had grey hair. Little brothers. He ran a hand across his face. “Why are you still awake? You need your sleep to recover. The doctor was very adamant about that.”

“I am resting. Just on the couch.” A sniffle. “I was worried about you.”

Another sigh, but this time Scott skipped down the steps into the circular lounge and sat down beside his littlest brother. “I was fine, Allie. I’m fully trained on Thunderbird Three, you know that. Maybe not as proficient as you, but I’m capable. Besides, I had John watching my back. You know how pedantic he is for safety up there.”

The shadow that was his brother shifted along the lounge and curled up against his arm. “I know.” Another sniffle. “It’s just hard, you know. Don’t like being left behind. Sick of being sick.”

Scott let his shoulders drop and lifted his arm, drawing his little brother close. “You’re getting better. It won’t be much longer.”

He received a grunt for that.

Alan had developed a nasty flu during an evacuation in Bangladesh. Fortunately, he had been with Virgil on Two at the time and not alone in space. Fortunately or not, the worried yell from his engineer brother when he found Alan passed out in Two’s main corridor spoke of the reason why Scott suspected Virgil dyed his hair.

There had been a mad dash to hospital after that. Two scorched the lawn in the reserve opposite the Auckland Hospital...again. One of these days, they would give iR a reserved space to land. It would save Scott from having to pay for extra greenskeepers every damn time there was an emergency.

Of course, it wasn’t your usual everyday flu. No, Alan was a Tracy, therefore it was a life threatening rare, tear your hair out as it goes grey kind of virus and it had been very scary for a few days there.

Virgil had been beside himself and Scott worried out of his mind. All the brothers had gathered terrified that they were about to lose their youngest.

There had been tears.

But Alan was tough. Life had always been hard to their littlest. He had lost so much, missed out on so much, and apparently that virus wasn’t up to the fight Alan was willing to throw at it, so it died.

And Alan slowly, ever so slowly, started getting better.

Those days were long past now and Alan only had the dregs. He had been cleared by disease control and allowed home. None of the older brothers had tested positive and it seemed they had escaped another bullet aimed at the Tracy family.

But it had been terrifying.

So Alan was under general moddle-coddling and if Grandma found him out here in the middle of the night there would be all hell to pay.

Scott understood his little brother’s reasoning though.

It was his ‘bird and he wasn’t flying.

“She performed perfectly.”

“Didn’t expect she wouldn’t.” His brother snuggled into his side, the sixteen-year-old reduced to six-year-old behaviour by his illness. “Was lonely.”

“Oh.” Scott tightened his hold.

With Virgil and Gordon out on a mission, the house would be quiet.

“Are they okay?”

“They were when I dropped off John. He would let us know if there were any problems.” Didn’t stop Scott from wanting to double check anyway. Hence his presence in the lounge.

“Can we watch?”

Scott blinked. “I guess so.”

Fumbling in the dark, he found the ‘projector remote and hit the on button. “John?”

His space brother’s tired hologram flickered into the middle of the lounge. “Scott? What are you still doing up? Is there a problem?” A frown as John noticed the other occupant of the sofa. “Alan? You should be in bed. Grandma will blow a circuit if she finds you up.”

“Alan was waiting for me.” It was the Commander’s voice. God, he was tired. A sigh. “Sorry, John, could you relay Virgil and Gordon’s monitoring feed down here? Alan wants to check on them.”

John stared at them a moment. “Okay. FAB.”

His holographic form flickered out to be replaced by a view from Two’s external camera. Virgil walked past covered in mud yelling at someone.

The someone turned out to be an equally mud-covered Gordon. Hell, the strawberry blond was a brunet. Both brothers looked as exhausted as Scott felt as they had a rather energetic discussion. Fortunately, it appeared that the rescue was over and Virgil was loading up the pod into its module. Unfortunately, tired meant grumpy and impatient.

“They look exhausted.”

“It was a nasty rescue. Far too many people died.”

“But they made a difference, didn’t they?” It was a child-like question that they both knew the answer to, but Alan had asked it anyway.

“Yes, they made a difference. Two hundred and three people hauled alive out of the mud today because of International Rescue.”

“We do good.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Gordon threw a glob of mud at Virgil’s head and the resultant yelling match was extensive. Scott sighed. “They need to come home.” He fiddled with the controls and set it to transmit his voice. “Thunderbird Two from Tracy Island. What the hell do you two think you are doing?”

On the ‘projector both brothers jumped as if a voice had come from above. Which it had since both Two’s camera and external speaker were a considerable distance over their heads.

“Mission complete, Tracy Island. Working through clean up. Estimated departure, ten minutes.” At least Virgil managed to regain most of his composure.

“Good. Now stop mucking around and drag your tired butts home.”

“Uh, FAB, Tracy Island.” Virgil stared at Gordon as if Scott had lost a few marbles. But the two of them executed the last of the pack up in an orderly fashion and exactly ten minutes later, their view launched with a flare of VTOL. The ground disappeared beneath and as Virgil hit the rear thrusters, it all became a blur.

Scott hit the kill switch and the room fell into darkness once again.

“They’ll be home soon.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Alan’s head was heavy on his shoulder, but warm and reassuring. Scott brought his other arm around and turned slightly so his brother could curl in a little closer, his head now more under Scott’s chin. Alan muttered something and snuggled up.

Scott rested his cheek against soft hair as Alan’s breathing drifted into the even pace of sleep, the remains of the infection that had brought them so close to losing him, now little more than a rough edge to each breath.

Closing his eyes, Scott revelled in having this moment, of not being denied it, of having another chance.

A moment where exhaustion and relief met and he drifted away.

-o-o-o-

Virgil entered the comms room to find it dark except for the moonlight shining through the rafters. It was just enough light to outline two brothers curled up on the couch together, both deeply asleep.

Deep enough that Virgil was surprised to find his inadvertent entrance hadn’t disturbed the ever fragile slumber of his eldest brother. So, feeling daring, he grabbed a throw rug and wrapped it gently about the two of them.

Neither stirred at all.

Miracles were possible.

Virgil smiled before tiptoeing out and leaving them there in the moonlight.

Together.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #302

“heaven ain’t close in a place like this”

What color are your eyes? Grayish blue. What's your favorite type of milk? If we're talking the basics, ig 1% is fine. What would you change about your appearance if you could? Oh, hunny, you got time for an essay? What would you change about your bedroom if you could? I need to fucking finish decorating it... It's not finished by no fault but my own laziness. Are you rich or poor? We're definitely pretty poor. Are you double jointed? I don't think so. What's the most physically painful thing you've ever experienced? I once had a large infected cyst that had to be drained by applying pressure to it, and I swear to Christ I don't know how I didn't faint. They gave me morphine and multiple numbing shots, but none of that did SHIT. I'm not even embarrassed by the fact I was shrieking and sobbing and swearing because I'm pretty fucking sure any sane person would've cried out many times. I'm convinced they either didn't numb me enough for someone of my size back then, or I should've just gone under for it. I have no words for how painful it really was. Do you like shots? Uh, given that nobody LIKES getting a shot with a needle, I'm going to assume you mean like, taking shots of alcohol, in which case I've never tried, but I can almost absolutely guarantee you I'd hate them. I hate the taste of alcohol (hence why I only drink sweet and weak stuff), sooooo, I've got my doubts I'd enjoy something so potent. Are you afraid of spiders? Yes and no? Small ones don't tend to get to me, and I LOVE tarantulas. Big spiders are absolutely fascinating and I love *watching* them, but if I was surprised by a sudden spider, I'm going to probably cry out and jump/scramble away. But on a real note, respect your spiders, whether they scare you or not. They are so important to the ecosystem. See one in the house, take it outside if you can. Have you ever had an allergic reaction to something? To some earrings, yes. I have to wear ones that don't have silver in them. Do you like to read? Yeah, but not nearly as much as I did as a kid. I'm even slacking on WoF lately... Do you know what your purpose in life is? *SLAMS FISTS ON TABLE* BITCH I WISH I KNEW What's something you would like to improve at? Not being a socially anxious catastrophe. Do you believe you have great potential? Everybody does. You just have to use it. What is the most beautiful scenery you have ever beheld? Probably the mountains when driving to Tennessee. Or New York? I really can't recall either so clearly as to have a favorite. Are you flexible? Noooot anymore. Back in my WiiFit days, I was a gotdamn snake. List a song lyric that you like. Oh Jesus, don't make me think. Uhhhhh there's so many. Flipping through artists in my head with lyrics I tend to love, there's Otep with: "hey, hey, NRA, how many kids did you kill today?". Simple, but spine-chilling to me. Huh, time to listen to it actually, lol. That song murders me with the goosebumps. Do you meditate? No; I can't. You can't tell me to "free my mind," man. It's way too hectic at all times up there. What's one place you've been to that you want to visit again? I'd love to go back to Chicago one night when I actually learn how to do nighttime urban photography. What's one place you want to go that you've never visited before? I always answer "South Africa" to questions like this, so for variety's sake, I'll say the Bahamas. But a conspiratory bitch is afraid of the Bermuda Triangle, so... lmao. What's your favorite type of tree? I like big, impressive weeping willows. How many times have you seriously injured yourself? Only two occasions I can think of immediately. Maybe there's more, but idk. Did you attend Sunday School as a child? Yeah, even though I hated it. What is the longest your hair has ever been? Maybe a little passed the small of my back? What about the shortest? (not including being a toddler or baby): How it is now and has been for a couple years: shaved short on the left side, and it transitions to a length near my chin as you go to the right. Have you ever smoked a cigarette? No. Are/were you in the school band, and if so, what instrument did you play? I did, and I played the flute. I'd choose the saxophone if I could go back. Who does the grocery shopping in your household? Well, it's just Mom and me, so her. If you were to donate to charity today, what would you donate to? One that focuses on ovarian cancer for Mom. What is your favorite card game and when was the last time you played it? Even though I was never great at it or knew every single rule, "Magic: The Gathering" is honestly really fun, and I loved looking at the card art. I haven't played it since I was with Jason, so at least five-six years. Would you consider yourself to be good at spelling and grammar? Yeah, but I've somehow gotten worse with time???? I question the spelling and tenses of words I write a lot. What is your favourite seasonal candy? (only available at certain times): Probably like, chocolate rabbits. NOT hollow. Way to break my heart. Or gingerbread cookies. What was the last chocolate bar you ate? I think a Hershey's? It was a while ago. Who was the last person you talked to on Skype/video chat? I was in a Zoom session with multiple people for my partial hospitalization program. Have you ever dreamt about sleeping with someone other than your partner? If so, did that make you feel embarrassed? I've never had a dream like this while in a relationship. The last time you had butterflies in your stomach, what was the reason? I have no idea. Has anyone told you that they miss you recently? No. Has anyone ever asked you out or told you that they liked you, and you rejected them? Can you explain why you didn’t like, or didn’t feel attracted to that person? There was this one guy in the 4th grade who asked me if I would go out with him so much it almost became like a joke. I just... didn't like him like that. Then there's Juan; I'd just been warned that he had a bad rep by a very reliable adult, and the idea of dating him was kinda... intimidating anyway. Plus he was a smoker, which was and still is a no-no for me. What part in a movie would you love to play? The clinically insane villain or something because I feel with my history, I could channel that very well IF I actually wanted to act in the first place. What piece of furniture have you replaced the most? The couch. What’s the best part of your favorite movie? When Simba walks up Pride Rock in the rain and roars and all the lionesses join in. Chilling. What do you think is the most over-rated candy ever? Candy corn is repulsive. What was the highlight of your day? My mom was raving to one of my therapists in the PHP about my art and how badly she wants me to just get everything out there. I was smiling really big but looking down with how shy but also flattered it made me. Do you know anyone who is anorexic? I don't think so. Who has hurt you the most this year? Ha, myself. What's the last insult someone said to you? Hm. How much did your car cost? N/A What is the last picture you received on your phone of? Uhhh Mom mighta sent me a meme or Sara showed me a drawing someone made of Suriza, I think. Have you ever let someone go because you thought they deserved better? No, though I've felt that way before. Is there anybody you're really disappointed in right now? I'm still not over the fact Dad was a druggie before me and my sisters, apparently. It's almost like... hurtful in some weird way? Idk exactly why, it's just something I know I feel. What do you hear right now? I have Motionless In White's cover of "Somebody Told Me" playing in another tab. Do you do anything to help the environment? I do what I can as someone who isn't financially independent and reliant on another person for transportation. I won't litter for anything (and this includes shit like letting balloons go in the air, fucking stop), I'm trying to use my metal straw always in place of plastic, and to use less plastic bags, I try to spread out the times I clean Roman's litterbox to a few days; not to the point it's disgusting or uncomfortable for him, of course, though. Three days without is pretty much max. When's the last time you did something you knew was wrong? Ha, a little while ago... I was trying to avoid eating the two last biscuits Mom made for dinner 'cuz I really gotta lay off the carbs, but Mom "joked" that "it's your birthday, you get to do whatever you want," so I kinda just said fuck it lmao. Do you think that you have a pretty smile? No, because my eyes squint badly, and I also hate my teeth. When's the last time you cried over a guy? A few days ago a little bit, actually. I was reminiscing too much and recalling some of the warmest memories. Are you scared to lose the person you fell the hardest for? I already did. Oh well. Is there someone you wouldn't mind kissing right now? Yep. Do you have any friends that actually model? No. Do you care about the last person you kissed? A fucking lot. Do they care about you? Yes. Is there someone you wish you were with right now? Yes, just because of past birthday memories. I keep hoping a "happy birthday Britt" pops up in my FB messenger, and I hate myself for it. Have you ever imagined how it would feel kissing a certain someone? I legitimately just huffed in humor, guess, lmao. What are the bad things you've heard people say about you? That I'm a martyr, going nowhere, lazy, not trying hard enough, y'know, all that good stuff. Do you flirt a lot? Definitely not. What phrase or saying do you use the most? Probably "oof" lol. What mood are you in right now? I'm doing pretty all right. Kinda dreading Miss Tobey coming over, mean as it is, but I just... don't wanna deal with her and her judgments on my birthday. But I'm looking forward to seeing my sisters, and therapy went very well. Have you ever kissed someone that was high? No. Do you have a good relationship with your mother? Yep. How many exes do you have? I only consider two exes "serious," as I've only been in two deep and long-term relationships, but if we're counting everyone who's had the label of "boyfriend" or "girlfriend," there's six. Do you want to be single or with someone? Ugh, I don't know. It's probably better I don't 'til I figure my shit out, but I really do miss the companionship a lot. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed? Because I love her and I was leaving her at the airport. Does your mom think you’re a virgin? She doesn't know for the same reason I don't, really. I think she leans towards I am, but idk. Is there someone that wants you to give them a second chance? I don't know. What size bra do you wear? Uhhh I genuinely don't buy bras enough to know this exactly. C-something. Does the person you last kissed still like you? I don't know if she still like-likes me. Are your parents still together? Noooo. Was your first time good or bad? I dated an Italian, if u kno what I mean. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Which friend-turned-enemy do you miss the most? Colleen, sometimes. Have you ever used an epi pen, and it worked? I have not. What is on your top priority list for today? Make this fuckin' day for me. I'm trying to not let the depression sink in and make me feel worthless on today of all days. So I'm trying to stay in a positive headspace. Do you own any sand art in a jar? Omg, those are so cool! But no. Does the sun come in your window in the morning or at night? Not really; there's houses in the way. What was the last piece of art you created? A drawing of a meerkat with its mouth open angrily, done with colored pencils, against a black background. It's on my second dA. What time of day do you take medications? I have prescription meds for when I wake up and at bedtime. What's your newest hobby you've started? A new hobby? Huh... What are some things you wanted to do that your parents didn't let you do? They wouldn't let us stay home alone until a certain age, we had a timer on the TV at bedtime to shut off after a while, we weren't exposed to certain music or shows, no cursing... stuff like that. What YouTube channels do you recommend? This is a BAD question to ask me, 'cuz I could just about recommend channels for just about any niche. I watch soooooo many. What is your favorite day of the week? Tuesday, because it's reset day in WoW, haha. Meaning, I get to do my stupid mount farming raids again for the week. Blackhand, gimme your FUCKING clefthoof already. Ballet or cheerleading? Ballet is beautiful. What are your favorite sports to watch? Only dancing, really. Were you ever in the marching band? No. Which holiday has the best decorations, in your opinion? My contrasting aesthetics make this hard, haha. I love Christmas with all the beautiful light displays people can make, but let's not sleep on Halloween, y'all. I loooove Halloween decor, like c'mon, that's where I get shit for my room year-round, lmao. What do you want to be known for? It'd actually be kinda cool if I built up some sort of rep in the vulture culture community with my photography of roadkill. For how few shots I actually have on there and minimal interaction, my Instagram for it is doing quite well, if you consider those factors. They've gotten some pretty decent attention on dA, too. I would love for people to know why I do it though, of course: awareness and respect for the animal's life. How often do you wear make-up? Almost never nowadays. Think of the person you are jealous of...what are you jealous of them for? She's actually making a career out of her photography. Do you have art that you made in high school? Oh, plenty. Do you have trauma in your past? *clears throat* take a fuckin seat Favorite type of frosting? Chocolate. Have you ever tried cake decorating? No. One of my sisters is actually one, though! She's great at it. What clubs are you a part of? None. What was your favorite book that you had to read for school? The Outsiders. 6th grade, to be exact. Do you like to read classics, or do you usually read new arrivals? I don't prefer one over the other, honestly. Were you a big partier in college? No, I never partied. Is your college one you would recommend? My most recent one, fuck yes. They're amazing and care so deeply for their students. Would you go camping in the woods alone? Yikes, no. Would you name your kids after anyone? If I had a son and I had my way with the name, he would be named after the Most Selfless Man in the World, Damien from WKM. :'''''( Do you have any supernatural gifts? No. Are there any good churches in your town? You're asking someone who has a bad relationship with religion. Do you want an indoor or outdoor wedding? It really depends on the season and venue my spouse and I pick. Do you think you would be a good salesperson? HEEEEEEEEEEEELL NAW fam. I ain't pressuring people to buy shit.

[leonkennedystuff]

not alone p.2 (leon kennedy x reader)

[RE4!Leon]

Summary: wherein reader finally confronts leon about ada wong

Warnings: angst, swearing, underage drinking, descriptions of mental illness, mentions of broken family (?)

Part 2 of 2

holy crap, you guys. This is probably the longest chapter I’ve ever written in my LIFE. I got so carried away making this oops I’m sorry but wah! I’m so happy it’s finally done! Hope you guys enjoy!

Weary (E/C) eyes staring blankly outside the window, the budding feeling of depression pays you another visit– like a viper, it coils around your scorned heart tighter and tighter, choking you. 

It’s been 6 days since that horrid fight with your longtime boyfriend, Leon Kennedy, and your insatiable sadness was the only friend you let in and comfort you. You knew you were coping with this unhealthily, you were aware you were setting yourself up for disaster, but you honestly could care less. You barely felt the discomforts anyway; you didn’t give no mind to how weak or hungry or tired or numb you felt all over. You just didn’t have the energy or the will. You felt, for a lack of better words, dead – and the last memory you had before you died was that fucking fight.

On that same night, you left your shared apartment; you packed a bag and practically had to force your way out because Leon kept trying to stop you, blocking the door, pleading with you to talk your problem through. Despite how vulnerable you were feeling though, you didn’t budge – refusing him his request, refusing to hear anything else about his standing with Ada Wong. 

Relentless attempts after relentless attempts, he figured his pleas were falling on deaf ears. He eventually lets you go. Watching you leave - it was like the biggest part of his heart left with you. He’s never felt so empty, and you weren’t doing so well either.

That was the last time you’ve seen or spoken with Leon; his messages on your phone, the calls you were rejecting - they continued to grow almost hourly, but you had no plan on answering them. Not now, at least. You needed to heal; reading his words or hearing his voice, your emotions would overshadow your logic. You knew you’d succumb to how much you missed him and you had to be stronger than that.

Currently (and for the past 6 days), you’ve been squatting at your best friend’s apartment. Claire Redfield has been your constant person ever since you were children; your family and the Redfields have been long-time friends and you got along with her just like your parents did. You’ve never trusted anyone the same way you did her, at least not until Leon entered your life almost a decade after.

When you met Leon, you were 19 and had just moved into a new city to pursue your degree in Nursing. You were no philanthropist but you always wanted a career that revolved around helping others, it was a striking similarity you and him shared. 

One night long ago, you were invited by some classmates to go drinking in a bar, a bar that was a favorite among students because they didn’t check ID – and that was when you saw him for the first time. 

You almost smile at the fond memory.

He was with a bunch of loud, intoxicated and rowdy cadets from the police academy not so far from your school, he stuck out like a sore thumb because of how awkward he looked with them. Definitely, the comradery with him and everyone in that group was evident but he just seemed so out-of-place as the other guys hustled around, trapping him in the middle of their wild antics. Although you thought it was funny, you also remember feeling bad for him.

It was around 2 in the morning when you decided you really had enough drinks and were going to call it a night. 

Despite the protests of your friends, you bid them a woozy goodbye and started heading out of the still cramp, neon-signed local bar. You barely made it a foot out the door when your drunk body doubled over, the urge to puke out the excess alcohol making your already dizzy head spin more. This wasn’t your first time drinking, absolutely not, but this was the first time you drank more than you could handle. 

Did you regret it? Even with the throbbing hangover you had the next day - no, you don’t, because if it weren’t for you getting so shit-faced, you don’t think you would have had the interaction you did with Leon.

“Someone really enjoyed their night,” A pleasant voice resonates from behind, teasing you. Too out of it to check the face it belonged to, you remain as you are – your knees on the rough pavement while your head hovered over a bush. “That makes one of us,” He notes, his mild amusement and his voice drawing closer as he walks to where you were.

“Do you need help?” He asks, his badinage tone now mixed with a hint of genuine concern. When you feel him settle beside you, bending a knee so he was at your level and so that he can take a better look at how wasted you were, you finally turn just enough to see who this enigmatic joker was.

For a second, you felt like you sobered up at the mere sight of him. Initially, from his attire – a plain white shirt clouded by a navy-blue windbreaker and fitted black pants- you recognized him as the awkward dude from the big crowd, but your attention shifts from that after your gaze falls on his face.

My God – you wondered just how drunk you were to have your beer goggles be this misleading. There was no way, you thought, that anyone could look this heavenly.

A dirty-blonde guy with fringes framing his fresh face looked to be the same age as you; he had a small smile on his plump pink lips. He was saying something, his mouth was moving, but it’s like you’ve suddenly turned deaf. You were so fixated on his looks.

You note how structured his features are, like a sculpture, his jaw was ample and strong and contrasted well with the fullness of his rosy cheeks. He had beauty marks decorating his clear skin, two on his neck and one small one beside his celestial nose. The real star, though, were his eyes. They were bluer than blue, like sapphires and moonstones.

Who the hell was this dude?

“So, are you going to tell me or should I just guess?” He cocks a dark eyebrow, his playful demeanor returning. Snapping out of your trance, you just blink at him, confused.

Oh right, he was talking.

“What?” You manage to find your voice but hate how raspy it sounded even to your own ears. He chuckles, looking down. His long eyelashes flutter as he subconsciously checks your body for any wounds or bruises you may have gotten in your buzzed state.

“I was asking for your name,” He repeats himself, clearly finding the cute but besotted girl humorous.

Your own cheeky personality coming out, you give him a curious squint. “What’s it to you?” You question, “I happen to be very familiar with the saying–“ You lean forward a bit to be dramatic but stagger a little. As if on instinct, the blonde holds you by the shoulders. It was almost impossible to ignore the flurry of sensation building under your skin where his hands were. “-‘stranger danger’,” You finish off with air-quotations, keeping your cool.

The guy laughs again, the luxuriance of it making your own mouth curl upwards in a smile.

“Maybe you’ll feel better knowing I’m training to be a cop?” He offers, riding along with your banter. You shake your head, “No, I’ve heard stories of serial killer police men. All charming and dutiful and handsome – you could definitely be in the list and I’m not risking it,”

With that, Leon’s face lights up with a surprised expression. You also note how his confident demeanor suddenly shifted into a coy one. You nearly raise your eyebrows in question but realize soon after why. 

Damn your drunk tendencies!

Now amply embarrassed, you open your mouth to apologize but were cut off with his bona fide smile. “You’ll just have to trust that I’m going to be one of the good ones,” He says, his voice softer but seemingly warmer. “I’m Leon Kennedy,” He introduces himself, earnestly outstretching a hand for you to shake. You take it, a blush undoubtedly heating up your face.

“(Y/N) (L/N),” You respond.

That night, Leon walked you back to your dormitory and the rest became history. It didn’t take long for you both to develop the feelings sparked by the night you met – it was only a matter of a few months until he finally confessed the obvious affection you had for one another. You both agreed, though, to remain as friends until you both graduated.

Your ‘remain as friends’ phase lasted almost 2 years, but you didn’t mind because you were so in love with him and he, you. You’ve never been happier. When you graduated from college and him from police academy, he wasted no time asking you to be together. 

You couldn’t wait to finally tell Claire all about it; you’ve updated her that there was someone you were seeing but left it at that until you and Leon were official. You planned to meet with Claire the day after Leon left for Raccoon City, also the day that she’d be coming back from the same place to check up on her older brother, Chris.

Of course, everyone knew about the tragic events that lead to the death of hundreds and thousands of people in Raccoon. When the outbreak first spread, you heard about it in the television and nearly fainted in the hospital you were working as a trainee nurse. You thought you could die right then and there – your body and your heart unable to cope with the distress plaguing your head. For nights on end, you couldn’t sleep and, the rare times you were able to, it was due to fatigue from crying so much. 

You couldn’t fathom the thought of either Leon or Claire in danger, hurt, or worse.

When you received the most gratifying news though that they both made it out alive and clear from the horrific infection, you felt lucid. You don’t remember crying as hard as you did that day. When you found out that Claire and Leon actually ran into each other during the outbreak, you started to bawl again. They took up the deepest crevices of your heart.

You scoff softly at that.

Look how that now turned out in your favor. Half of it was broken beyond repair.

Suddenly, for the nth time this night, your phone blares in the dreary guest room you occupied, disrupting the welcomed silence. Your reverie broken, you sit up sluggishly on the bed too big for one person, your gaze indolently shifting to the vibrating device beside you. You didn’t need to think twice or wonder who it could be; your heart was already clenching knowing it was him.

With the heaviest feeling settled in your chest, you bring yourself to push your phone away, to push Leon away. To think nearly six years of your life was spent being with someone who might not have been entirely set on you after all…

You lay back down on the soft, silky sheets and close your exhausted eyes until the only noise left was your wounded sobbing. Inconsolable, dismal, helpless.

Alone with your wayward thoughts, another painful feeling creeps up your chest – although he was a persistent and tenacious man, you were sure he’ll eventually tire from reaching out just to have you ignore him. How long will it take until he finally gives up? How long will it take until he’s moved on from you? Will he be with Ada?

Too lost in your own sorrow, you almost didn’t hear the soft knocks resonating from the other side of the door. “(Y/N)?”

Startled, you bring your pounding head up. For a moment, you weren’t sure whether you imagined the sound. “Yeah?” You croak, your voice scratchy and barely there. You’ve misused yourself for the past few days and it was beginning to show.

“It’s me,” Claire leans her cheek on the door, pressing an ear to the wood. “Can I come in?”

You prop yourself upright a second time and a sudden wave of vertigo hits you. You lean back on the headboard, your vision dancing with stars. You wait until the dizzy feeling passes before you reply. “Of course,” You say, finding it a bit ridiculous that she had to ask permission in her own place.

Not a moment after your thumbs-up, the door creaks open and a crack of light from the hallway floods the room, illuminating your friend’s sympathetic face. “How are you holding up?” She checks on you, entering the room fully. You see she brought a glass of water and a cookie on a plate.

You smile, genuinely touched by the sweet gesture. Claire makes her way to you and settles down on the bed; she brings her feet up so she can sit with her legs crossed. The mattress rocks slightly as she shifts to a more comfortable position, turning the bedside lamp on. You wince at the orange light.

She hands you the glass of water, which you gratefully take from her hold and sip from, and places the huge chocolate chip cookie towards your body. She looks almost expectant but you pretend not to notice; you really couldn’t bring yourself to eat. 

Claire knew what was up though and, thankfully, she didn’t try to push it. It was always something you appreciated about her – she wasn’t overbearing, she didn’t try to impose or force anything. She just gives her 2 cents and leaves it to your better judgement; you respected that a lot.

“Still the same, unfortunately,” You crack a halfhearted chuckle, trying to sound better than you really felt. You look down and away from the sad look in Claire’s eyes, obviously seeing past the fabricated act. Wanting not to dwell in her scrutiny, you reach for the still warm cookie and break off a small chunk, bringing it to your mouth. It tasted heavenly – her food always did, but you couldn’t enjoy it.

“It’s good,” You comment with a nod, your eyes still anywhere but on the brunette girl in front of you. Of course, you were trying to evade the conversation that dealt with talking about how you were feeling.

You open your mouth, to apologize for being so detached, but her hand suddenly on your thigh catches you off-guard. You look at her to see her smiling. “How about we take a walk? Maybe visit the ice cream shop right before the curb? I’ve been wanting to check the place out,” She suggests with a thoughtful cock of her head, her dark brown hair swaying with her movements. 

She leans in a bit, her knowing expression deepening as she gives your leg a pat. “And it’ll do you some good to get some fresh air.”

Claire had a point, you acknowledged. Although you didn’t want to, going outside would probably help distract from your stuffy thoughts, especially considering that you’ve been camped in this apartment almost the entire time you were here. You note that Claire probably blew her plans off just to accommodate you. This is the least you can grant her.

“Okay, yeah, let’s do it.” You crack a smile, shifting your weight so you could swing your legs off the bed. Claire, who looked a little surprised from your answer, blinks before a big grin appears on her face. She gets up as well, “Alright! Just let me get changed,” She says, gesturing to her olive-green baseball tee and black sweatpants. 

You chuckle, nodding.

When the door closes behind her, you swap your pajamas as well for some leggings and a grey hoodie two sizes too big on your frame. Your hand moves its way to feel the letters of the police academy Leon attended bolded in the center; you didn’t realize you’ve packed it but now it’s the only thing you wanted to wear.

You let yourself. Considering you didn’t allow to talk or reach out to him, this will help you cope.

You sigh. You just couldn’t believe how complicated it’s gotten.

After taming your (H/C) hair into a ponytail and trudging out of your room, you enter the living space and the first thing that caught your eye was a small white envelope in front of the main door. It was most probably slipped in through the crack.

You walk towards it, your heartbeat picking up speed for a reason unknown to you. Crouching down to get a better look, you take it in your hands. It was plain until you turned it over.

A red kiss mark.

Your breath hitches – you knew point-blank exactly who this was from. No doubts, no second thoughts. 

Why the fuck has she sent this? How did she know where you were? Did Leon tell her about your fight?

“Unbelievable,” You hissed under your ragged breath, clenching your fists. With your stomach churning, your eyes brim with tears as you angrily tear it open. Your chest felt so constricted, it was almost painful to breathe.

               Hope you don’t mind that I told him your whereabouts.                                                                                  -A.W.

Just one sentence – just that one sentence was enough to get you bawling your eyes out. Even though it lacked reason for you to be this heavily affected, it was the mere fact that it meant Leon had reached out to Ada again. You visibly started to shake. 

You’ve had enough of this shit.

“You ready to head ou-“ Claire’s smile falls the moment she saw your slumped and trembling figure by the door, her crystal blue eyes growing wide with worry. She practically runs over to you, dropping to her knees and draping an arm around your shoulders. 

You were inconsolable, violent sobs rocking your body.

“(Y/N), what –“ Her sentence was left hanging in the air as she saw the poorly torn white envelope and letter in your hands. She cautiously takes it from your iron grip and reads what was written; her anger flares right away.

Before she had the chance to bust out her profanities, a loud series of knocks resonate from the door. Claire gets up and, because she was too overcome with ill feelings, didn’t bother to check the peephole. She swings the door open and immediately wished she hadn’t.

Leon Kennedy stood before her; his impossibly blue eyes were rid of any warmth – they looked exhausted, lidded and tired, and the dark bags under them seemed to weigh them down more. His body was stiff with tension, his usually groomed hair was in its messiest state she’d ever seen and, really, just his whole aura was thick with dread. 

He was a mirror image of you.

If it weren’t for how angry and disappointed Claire was with him, she would have felt bad seeing him in his weary state. Claire always looked so highly of Leon; she saw how pure, sincere and brave his character was in light of the events they experienced in Raccoon City. 

So, when she found out he was the man you were seeing? She approved of the relationship right off the bat, loving him for you. Claire knew, though, about the problem with the woman in red but she didn’t realize how bad it actually was to have this whole thing happen.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here, Leon,” She scowls, chastising, crossing her arms over her chest. He looks down and takes the harshness of her words; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting this to happen. “Can I please see her?” His voice was hoarse.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,”

“It’s okay, I want to talk to him.”

Claire twists around to look at you. Your eyes were hard on the man whose heart had just skipped after being unable to see you or hear your voice for nearly a week. He recognizes the hoodie you had on and the ache in his chest tripled.

Despite your own heart jumping, your fury overclouded any feeling of longing. The letter crumples under your hand.

Claire gives you an expression as if to ask ‘Are you sure?’ and you nod. With one last look at the crestfallen male, she turns on her heel and leaves the premise to give you both some privacy.

“(Y/N)-“ Leon starts, taking a step towards you. You backtrack harshly.

Couldn’t he take a hint?

“Where’s Ada?” You grit your teeth, trying to keep your melting composure together. So much for a proper greeting. “I’m surprised you’ve bothered to come here, or that you even thought of me at all.”

Leon’s already fallen face sinks further, your words deepening the terrible pain the last few days have imbedded in him. If you only knew what the man’s been through; he could barely function not knowing where you were or who you were with or how you were doing and it showed in his present state. Ada, or at least the interaction you assumed happened between them, never reached reality.

“(Y/N),” He sighs, arduous, running a palm down his slightly stubbled cheek. The fact that you were so near but he couldn’t hold you made the inside of his chest itch. “Please, stop being like that. I want to talk this out. Properly. I don’t want Ada to be in this conversation,” He says, unable to keep the frustration from appearing in his tone.

Your anger grows. “That’s rich coming from you, especially when you hired her as your personal investigator,” You bring your clenched hand up and finally show to him the letter. “Here-“ You nearly hiss, taking a step towards him so you could press it to his chest. “You can thank her for coming through, as always.”

Leon studies the paper and his eyebrows furrow immediately. He shakes his head, looking at you perplexed. “I haven’t spoken to her ever since-“ He pauses for a split second, his jaw clamping ever so slightly, “-ever since we fought. I don’t know how she knows anything, or how she knew I was trying to find you.”

Despite your rancorous feelings, your chest prickled. You weren’t very surprised, but it softened your hardened exterior to hear his efforts. He always prioritized you, but the reason why you were so unwilling to move on from this was because of how prioritized Ada was too.

Noticeably gentler than a few seconds ago though, you moisten your dry lips. You knew Leon was telling the truth not only because of his honest eyes, but because he was just an honest person, especially when it came to you. But you just couldn’t wrap your head around how Ada was able to find out about you and Leon’s current situation and how she tracked you down.

As if he could tell what was plaguing your train of thoughts, he offers an explanation. You don’t know, though, if it made you feel better. “Ada – she’s a mysterious woman.” He acknowledges, cautiously moving closer. 

You stay where you are and it made him almost sigh in relief. If this proximity was all that the situation would allow, he’ll take it. “She has her ways, she has her own methods of knowing things.”

He shakes his head, “But enough about her. Please. I don’t want to talk about her – I want to talk about our relationship, because that’s what matters the most to me.” He says. 

You remain silent because you want him to continue and because a lump was growing in your throat.

You know from years of knowing Leon that he wasn’t the type of person to be vocal with his affection; how he grew up rendered him to be kind of awkward when it came to his feelings, he always had a hard time talking about it in general. It became especially more difficult after Raccoon City and you never tried to pry or change that; so, the rare times he did verbalize about what was in his chest, it was so special for you.

Leon takes a deep inhale, running his calloused thumbs over his fingers. “I-I’ve taken you for granted. All these years, you never left me, not even when our lives got so complicated.” He closes his stinging eyes, feeling his chest grow heavy as memories of his past played through his head – all the people lost, all the places now in ruin, all the missions he’s taken that always scared you half to death with worry. They were scars he had to live with.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever cared for me the way you do. It’s something I was never really familiar with,” He falters for a moment, wanting to compose himself. You, on the other hand, already had tears falling down your cheeks. You knew he was talking about his family and his upbringing – it was such a sensitive topic for him and your heart ached.

“-but it gives me so much hope, you know? It gives me more reason to want to end this whole attack on humanity. It’s contagious, how selfless you are.” He sighs, shifting his gaze to the carpeted floor. “The reason why I’ve been talking to Ada again is because she has information regarding new B.O.Ws being created somewhere. It’s stupid – maybe I should have just told you but I never include or disclose to you anything in my line of work because I don’t want to risk your safety.”

“You make me a better person, (Y/N), the love that you share so generously – I could only wish to reciprocate it all back to you. I-I’m trying, and I’m sorry if you have to suffer my inability to but I-“

Leon fails his words, his beautiful blue eyes glassy with tears. You’ve only ever seen him cry once your whole life, when you reunited after Raccoon City.

Without a moment more, you dash forward and wrap your arms tightly around the vulnerable and visibly upset man. You press your head to his chest, your tears – at this point – coming down like a waterfall as you listen to the beat of his heart. The heart made of pure gold, the heart that you loved more than anything in this whole fucking world.

Leon overlaps your embrace, one hand cupping the back of your head and the other snaked around your waist ardently, like he was afraid you’d fall out of his grasp again. 

He kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering for a few moments before he closes his eyes, feeling like a thousand pounds just lifted off his shoulders. He was light-headed, the warmth of your touch he craved so much felt like paradise.

“I’m sorry too, I just- I got so hurt but I never should have left the way I did,” You sob, not caring how you looked like. “I love you, Leon, more than anything. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re lacking or that your baggage will ever be too heavy for me to carry with you. I’m not perfect either- I have my own shit, I have my own issues as well, but I know you’ll be there to help me out.”

You wipe at his eyes and he captures your hand, kissing it tenderly before intertwining his fingers with yours. “I promise I’ll be better,” He looks at you with commitment, his gaze unwavering and honest.

You smile, pledging to do the same. You trap his warm face in your palms and kiss him lovingly on the lips, your heart soaring. He deepens it.

You knew there were still going to be countless of bumps in the road ahead of you and Leon, some small, some big, and some worse or as worse as this but, no matter what, out of the billions of souls in this earth, it’s only him you’d ever love this way.

[xxx-cat-xxx]

Told You So

aka Three times Tony and Bruce take care of each other.

For @twentyghosts. Happy Birthday, Renata! This is a birthday fic and also my excuse for writing Science More-Than-Bros for the first time. It’s hurt/comfort because that’s me, but nothing dark.

Major thanks to @whumphoarder​ for beta reading. Enjoy :)

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

Bruce wakes when the sky outside is still dark, hours before their alarm is set to ring. That’s nothing new - between him and Tony, they have assembled so many potentially nightmare-inducing traumas that there is hardly a night in which both of them sleep until morning - but today it’s something else that woke him.

Tony is facing away from Bruce in a futile attempt to not disturb him with a wet and seemingly painful coughing fit. He is hunched into himself, trembling slightly, sucking in rattling breaths between the coughs.

“Hey, Tony, take it easy,” Bruce mumbles as he blinks himself awake, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

He props himself up on an elbow and starts to rub circles on the other man’s back. Tony shivers visibly under his touch, and Bruce’s hand goes up to his neck. He sighs when he feels the searing heat coming off Tony’s skin. The chest infection Bruce warned him about when he went on a three-days workshop binge with a cold is now in full force. Of course Bruce was right, but he doesn’t feel satisfaction, only worry. Bruce isn’t one to say ‘I told you so’.

Tony coughs and coughs and coughs, then wheezes in a breath and coughs some more, sounding increasingly frantic.

“Okay, you need to get upright.” Bruce scrambles out of bed and helps the other man sit up.

Tony takes a rattled breath before doubling over and hacking again. He brings a hand to his chest in a pained expression. “Can’t - breathe -”

“I know, I know. You’re okay, Tony, it’s just the infection,” Bruce assures in the calmest voice he can muster, trying to radiate confidence. He knows that not being able to breathe is one of Tony’s most prominent triggers, and the last thing they need right now is a panic attack.

“JARVIS, can you start the steam in the shower?” he addresses the AI.

“Of course, Dr. Banner.”

“That should help you,” Bruce encourages, hoisting Tony up. “Come on.”

Steam is already filling the shower. Bruce sits Tony down on the ground, asking him to lean forward and breathe evenly.

Tony tries, then descends into another coughing fit. He tries again and hacks up a mouthful of mucus, his fingers clawing into Bruce’s arm. There’s panic in his eyes when the attempt to fill his lungs with oxygen yields no result.

“Okay, try again, just breathe with me,” Bruce instructs. He takes both of Tony’s hands into his, holding them tight. “I’m right here, okay? Let’s do this together.”

He counts them down from ten a couple of times until finally Tony’s breathing eases. For a minute, Tony just sits there with his eyes closed, swaying slightly, relief visible on his face. Then he slumps against Bruce, exhausted and clearly feverish.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “‘s was awful.”

“You’re okay now,” Bruce soothes. “Maybe just listen next time when I tell you to take a day off.”

Tony sticks out his tongue at him, then buries his face in Bruce’s chest.

“Do you think you’ll be okay here for a moment while I get us a change of clothes?” Bruce asks. He personally wouldn’t mind cuddling his partner on the bathroom floor all night, but the heat of the steam really doesn’t help with Tony’s fever.

Tony nods sluggishly, already half asleep. Bruce helps him shift so he can support himself against the tiled wall.

He goes to change his own pajamas, leaving the wet ones on a heap on the floor to deal with later. Then he fetches a pair of sweatpants and a shirt for Tony and returns to the bathroom.

“Brucie?” Tony is still sitting on the shower floor, and when he looks up at Bruce, there’s a smile on his tired face and a sparkle in his eyes. “Your bedhead looks adorable.”

*

“Something about this smells fishy to me,” Tony says into his comm and Bruce grins because this is the third time he’s heard that same line during the past hour. He can almost see Steve taking a deep, measured breath on the other side of the channel.

Missions are always Bruce’s least favourite part about being an Avenger. This time, at least, it isn’t the Hulk who is needed but actually Bruce, the scientist, and there are definitely worse things to do than investigate an abandoned Hydra base together with Tony.

That’s what he thinks anyway, until the moment when the air resonates with a deafening explosion from further down the corridor and he realises that they have walked right into a trap.

“I told you so,” Tony snaps at Steve through the comm, and Bruce almost laughs because this is such a Tony thing to say, but then there’s an ominous crunch from the walls, and the next moment the building collapses over their heads.

The dust settles and by some mysterious fortune, Bruce is still Bruce, although a Bruce who’s lying on the ground on his back without any memory of how he got there. He tries to get up with a groan, but he can’t. His chest is pressed down by something metallic, and he realises with a surge of fear that it’s Tony’s armour. He tries to turn to his side, but that doesn’t work either as there is debris all over him and possibly the remnants of a wall nailing him in place. He tries to lift his hands to free himself just to realise that he can’t even do that, and that’s when the panic takes over.

He mutely notices Tony saying something, but he can’t concentrate, his own increasingly frantic breaths sounding too loud in his ears. The weight on his body seems to grow heavier with each second that passes, and he is almost sure that he can feel the oxygen decreasing.

The Hulk stirs in the back of his mind, and Bruce is nearly glad to let him take over, but then he realises that this can’t happen because Tony is lying above him, which means that Tony is trapped together with him under the debris, and if the Hulk comes out, he will squeeze Tony to death and -

“Bruce? Are you okay?” Tony’s voice interrupts his racing thoughts and Bruce realises from his tone that this is not the first time he must have asked the question.

Get me out of here, he wants to shout, but he can’t answer, the weight pressing down onto his vocal chords robbing him of oxygen.

“Bruce?”

“N-No,” he manages. “C-can’t -” He breaks off, panting.

“Okay, hey,” Tony says. “Calm down, big guy.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, Bruce thinks, because it’s not the what that is the problem here, it’s the how. Tony mumbles something into his suit, and then Bruce can feel a gush of fresh air on his face, because of course Tony’s suit would have an A/C function.

He gulps in a breath, and another, and another. It doesn’t do much to take the weight off his limbs, but at least the fear of suffocating is gone for the moment.

“Bruce? Talk to me, you’re freaking me out. Are you okay?” Tony sounds a little panicked himself.

“Yeah - yeah, I’m sorry,” he rasps. “Just, uhm, I don’t really like small spaces.”

He can hear Tony let out a breath. “Yeah, somehow I guessed that… You’re not injured, right?”

“No, I’m-I’m good, just, there’s debris all over me. And I can’t move.” He tries not to make the last sentence sound too pathetic, but it’s a close call.

“I’d help you out, but my suit’s holding the structure upright, so I can’t really move either,” Tony explains.

Bruce can feel the minute shakes of the armour betraying the strength it takes Tony to keep the building from collapsing further - can hear the low hum of the armour. He wonders how much energy it has left.

“FRIDAY called for backup, they should be coming soon,” Tony goes on. “Don’t move until then, it’s a very...fragile situation.”

Great. That’s just great.

“Are- Are you hurt?” Bruce asks, because no matter how close to losing it he is, he needs to know whether Tony is okay.

“Nah, I’m good,” Tony responds, the strain in his voice obvious. Bruce is inclined not to believe him, but on the other hand, he is carrying a building on his shoulders, so of course he’d sound strained, and god there is a whole building trapping them and he can’t move -

“Slow it down, big guy,” Tony instructs firmly.

“It’s not - It’s hard - “ The edges of Bruce’s vision are shimmering green.

We are safe, he tries to convince the Hulk, You don’t need to take over, we’re okay- but he has such a hard time believing it himself.

“Bruce. Just breathe with me. Like that night in the shower, when I was sick, you remember?” Tony manages the miracle of keeping his voice soft even though he himself is almost panting from exertion.

“Yeah,” Bruce manages, pulling up the memory in his mind. If Tony got through bronchitis without a panic attack, Bruce can get through his claustrophobia. Has to, actually - it’s not like there’s much of a choice.

“Okay,” Tony directs, “Count your breaths. Easy-peasy.” There is a groan and something in the structure shifts. For a horrible second Bruce thinks that this is it, it’s going to collapse and the Hulk will come out and Tony will die - but then he feels a hand reaching for his, and realises that Tony has somehow freed his arm.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Tony asks.

“Y-Yes. Thanks.” Tony finds Bruce’s hand in the dark, and he can feel the nanite casing of the other man’s suit retracting, his warm fingers enveloping Bruce’s own.

“Here. I got you.” Tony soothes. “Now, just breathe. They’ll come for us soon.” His fingers hold Bruce’s tightly, pressing his hand in rhythm with Bruce’s breaths.

“I’m so sorry,” Bruce says when he manages to calm down a little bit.

“For what? Was it your fault that Captain The-Structure-Is-All-Clear Rogers got the wrong intelligence?”

“No, of course not, just...if I wasn’t there, you could just use your repulsors -”

“Goddammit, Bruce, stop apologising for existing!”

“S-Sorry,” Bruce whispers, feeling a tiny smile form on his lips.

“Stop saying sor -” They are interrupted by a rumble from somewhere deep in the structure.

Bruce flinches, but Tony’s fingers press his reassuringly. “It’s the team. They’re coming for us. Don’t worry, we’re going to be safe.”

Thankfully, Tony is right once again.

*

“Sorry-  for making you late -” Tony rasps, spitting a string of bile into the toilet bowl.

“What do you mean, ‘late’?” Bruce frowns. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“Yes, we are so going-” Tony stops to rip a piece of toilet paper off the roll and roughly wipe his mouth with it. “I’ll just - give me a few minutes, I’ll be able to keep down a painkiller and then we can leave -” He interrupts himself to retch once more.

“Tony, the stupid ceremony is not important. I’m not letting you go in the state you’re in.”

“This’ nothing  - jus’ a stupid migraine - I’ve worked through worse -”

“Is that supposed to reassure me? Because it definitely doesn’t.”

Bruce braces himself for another comeback, but Tony has gone quiet, holding his head in his hands with his eyes screwed shut, reeling slightly. His adam’s apple is bobbing up and down as he is visibly trying not to be sick again. The pain on his face is almost too much for Bruce to bear.

“Okay, hey.” Bruce brings his tone down to a soothing whisper. “Do you think you’re done for now?”

Tony nods minutely, so Bruce helps him up to standing. Tony whimpers involuntarily when the change of altitude dials up the pain, grabbing at the basin for balance. When he can stand more steadily, Bruce fills a glass of water for him to rinse his mouth.

FRIDAY has already dimmed the lights in the bedroom. Bruce sits Tony down on the foot of the bed and takes a moment to tidy up the pieces of the fancy suit that are laid out on the mattress, evidently left there when Tony got sick while trying to get dressed. Bruce is glad that he came home early to find the man in the bathroom throwing up instead of meeting Tony directly at the science award ceremony like they had planned originally. He is sure Tony would have forced himself to go despite a migraine bad enough to make him sick.

“‘m useless. And stupid. More stupid than Dum-E.” Tony is struggling with the buttons of his suit shirt.

“I have a hard time believing that, coming from the man who was supposed to receive a science award tonight with me.” Bruce smirks.

“I feel stupid. Can’t use my brain. ‘n my hands.” He pulls at the buttons irritably.

“It’s okay. I got this, see?” Bruce helps him out of the shirt, eliciting a small, grateful smile. He nudges him to change into sweatpants before Tony gingerly curls into the blankets.

“You should try and get some sleep,” Bruce tells him quietly.

“Can’t. Not tired, ‘s not even seven yet.”

“Keep lying there and I bet you’ll be asleep within half an hour.”

“Sure.” Tony responds sarcastically.

“Are you still feeling nauseous?” Bruce asks. The answer is a small nod, so Bruce fetches the trash can from the corner of the room and sets it next to the bed. Then he goes to wet a washcloth with cool water and lays it over Tony’s eyes. Tony lets out a breath of relief.

“You can still go, y’ know?” he speaks up when Bruce slides under the blanket with him. “‘s boring here, ‘m no fun.”

“Tony, you don’t have to be fun for me to want to be around you,” Bruce protests. “I don’t want you to be alone when you’re sick.”

“Oh. ‘kay.” Something in his tone expresses genuine surprise, and Bruce feels a sudden green flash of anger at whoever it was that made Tony believe he has to be a source of constant entertainment in order for people to stay with him. Bruce draws in a breath.

“How’s the pain?” he asks, more softly.

Tony shrugs, flinching when he does so. His face is abnormally pale, sweat beading on his hairline. Bruce realises that he still has a clenched fist pressed to his left temple. Migraines typically hurt on only one side of the head, Bruce recalls, and with Tony, it’s always the left that gives him trouble. Carefully, Bruce reaches out, removing Tony’s fingers and starting to exert light pressure on his head. Tony bites back a whimper.

“Does that hurt?” Bruce asks, immediately pulling back his hand.

“Nah. ‘s good,” Tony exhales.

Bruce starts to lightly massage Tony’s temple, then runs his fingers through the man’s curls. They’re damp from sweat and messy, giving him a softer look than the careful style in which he usually keeps them. Although Tony would disagree, Bruce likes them much better this way.

Bruce massages the pressure points at the base of his skull and Tony moans quietly, rolling over so that Bruce can reach the other side of his head. His jaw is still set and the pain is visible in the lines around his eyes, but the tension is slowly decreasing.

“Last time anyone did that was like, 35 years ago,” he mutters.

“Your mom?” Bruce asks, thinking of how his own mother used to take care of him - whenever she could, which was usually when his father wasn’t home.

“Nah,” Tony huffs. “Jarvis. The human Jarvis. He use’ to - used to stay with me when I was sick as a kid.”

“Oh.” Bruce knew about Tony’s closeness to the butler, but it starts to occur to him now that Jarvis had probably been more of a substitute parent. Bruce’s own childhood had been pretty much a horror story, but he wouldn’t really want to switch with Tony either.

Bruce buries his hand in his partner’s curls, focusing on the sensation of the hairs being smoothed under his fingers.

“Thank you,” Tony mumbles after a while, reaching up clumsily to grasp Bruce’s hand and stop it in its pace. He doesn’t let go of Bruce’s fingers and instead pulls the hand close to his face so that the knuckles press onto his forehead. “Thank you fo’ stayin’…”

Bruce smiles a little in the dark. “Always, Tony.”

He keeps sitting in this position, holding Tony’s hand in his. Five minutes later, Tony is asleep.

Bruce he bends down and presses a kiss to the other man’s forehead. “Told you so,” he whispers.

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

All my fics

@badthingshappenbingo - This is my fill for the square “Raspy Breathing”.

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

[writerkenna]

The Lights of Stars and the Glitter in Your Eyes Chapter 5

GUESS WHO'S BACK, BACK AGAIN

KENNA'S BACK, and she's really sorry she has been gone for so long and she hopes her readers will still care about this story after like a month gap.

Seriously y'all I'm sorry. I just really lost motivation for this and I didn't want to publish something bad so I just wanted to wait until I felt like I could publish something I liked.

I'm . . . mostly happy with this. Enjoy!

Thor was on his back with eyes fuzzed up on the metal ceiling arching over head for an unreasonably long time. The realization of his love for Bruce was a shock to his system, maybe literally, he thought he might have sparked right at the moment the image of Bruce filled up his head and heart.

He didn’t know why, but he felt a wave of laughter stir up in his stomach and catapult out of him. He was in love. Bruce, with his too gentle fingertips poised and prepared, had reached into Thor and took a careful hold of his heart. He laughed again in two bursts, clutching his gut, still aching from Valkyrie’s slam to it. It had been too long since he had been in real, warm, hearty love. Thor had forgotten how rapturously joyful it was.

“Um, you getting up any time soon?” Valkyrie asked. Thor righted himself into a sitting position and shook out his shoulders. He gave Valkyrie his doopiest grin.

“I’m in love with Bruce,” Thor repeated. It was good to feel it on his tongue, Bruce’s name flexing across his lips and pricking a blush on his cheeks.

“Yeah, well. That’s nice.” Valkyrie stared at him from above, tone tight and unrevealing, but Thor could tell, with the edging up of her lips, that he was infecting her with his bubbling over smile.

“I-how did I not know sooner? Bruce is . . . he is the most tremendous mortal I’ve ever known. Did-has he told you about his work on black holes? It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.”

The words were coming out without consideration, thoughts grabbing others and growing and sprouting bigger as they left Thor’s mouth.

“Does that mean you’re going to talk to him again?”

“Oh, I-”

Thor’s shoulders slumped and, like a wisp of air as he exhaled, the giddy fever he had been absorbed in phased out of him. Thor might have loved Bruce without complications in the sanctity of his head and the fog of this gym, but outside of these spaces, he had ignored Bruce for four days straight. Thor had slipped up and soiled their potential love before its start, betrayal ingrained in its roots the moment Thor had buckled to Hulk’s whims.

He didn’t think Valkyrie should know this.

“Ah, yes,” he replied, after a long gap in his own head, “I . . . I’ll be wooing him from now on.”

Valkyrie pushed a laugh out her nose and shook her head. Thor doubted himself just as much as she did. He couldn’t imagine pulling his old moves on Bruce, his demure and toying seduction, his waxing poetic to the point of meaninglessness, his flexing and fawning till his subject of affection was swooning into the crevices of the muscles of his arms. It never would have worked anyway, but especially not after Thor had fumbled so poorly. His methods had been foiled and his plan was fraught with flaws.

“Or, well, I don’t know, maybe not wooing, but I’ll talk to him,” Thor mumbled.

“You are a ridiculous king. Are you aware of that?” Valkyrie leaned in towards Thor, eyes squinted in a bit of a challenge, an invitation for another bout. Thor tried to take it as a distraction, but Bruce and Hulk and feelings for both were all formidable forces on his thoughts.

He excused himself away to his quarters to Valkyrie’s disgruntlement, and when Bruce was not there, decided to extend the avoidance for a bit longer, at least enough for a shower to settle himself.

Bruce, when Thor found him and when Thor felt mentally organized enough to handle conversation with him, was in the middle of a debate with the newly elected leader of his treasury. Thor appreciated Bruce’s dedication to his mostly undefined chancellor position even when Thor himself was being sort of an ass.

“Malfjor, Bruce,” Thor greeted with a nod to each. Malfjor was the one old, tried and true staple of the old Asgardian government in his parliament. He was huffy and red on the tip of his nose, which was his state often, a firm holdover of Odin’s rule.

“This Midgardian is telling me you’re moving my funding for the historical upkeep of ancient buildings to education?” Malfjor asked like the very notion of defunding was an atrocity. Thor’s eyes gave a momentary slip to Bruce, whose fingers were clutching onto one another as his face rattled between contained indignancy and a growing regret. Thor gave him a flick of the side of his lip turned away from Malfjor and Bruce’s lips spread into dimples, his shoulders releasing from around his ears.

“Well, yes, my chancellor is very well informed. The funding will be moved,” Thor said. He was mimicking Odin’s voice, or rather, what he remembered the voice sounding like when he was a boy and every political speech or decree made Odin look even more like the god he was. He let the tone move in to his shoulders and chest, puffing like a lion to his pride. Malfjor, easy to master, took the bait and settled just enough.

“I . . . if you think that best, King,” he grinded out of his teeth. Thor steadied his eyes onto him as the final step in his king performance.

“I do. I have the utmost confidence in Dr. Banner.” Thor smirked that bit out and, in the corner of his vision, he could see Bruce’s eyes go soft and happy, lids looking so comfortably heavy. Malfjor ruffled with a sigh and pushed off from both of them without so much as a goodbye.

“That was pretty fun, actually,” Thor said to Bruce under a twitching grin and heavy blush. Malfjor had lorded over him for so long as a quasi uncle who had been as distant and frigid to children as Odin was. It was cathartically cleansing, as were Bruce’s eye crinkles. “

Yeah, um,” Bruce, though still fuzzy in his eyes, had begun to chew up his lip. Thor frowned, “so, ah, you haven’t been talking to me, and that’s pretty weird.”

Thor’s cheeks went even warmer and he issued a laugh that stunk of guilt.

“Yeah, ah-”

“You know, the only people I know on this ship are you, Val, and Loki. And Loki and I sort of hate each other, so, it really sucks for me if we’re not talking.”

“I know,” Thor sighed. The pit of his stomach was empty and wanting looking at Bruce and, despite himself, he decided he could allow himself this, “I’ve been under stress and thinking poorly. I . . . it won’t . . .”

Thor halted. It had been immeasurably easier to talk to Bruce before Thor had realized the interconnection between the brewing of heat that cropped up in the middle of his chest and the batting of Bruce’s deep black lashes. He gulped in and composed himself as well as he could.

“Let’s go back to the room,” Thor said, catching the double entendre soon after he did. He hadn’t the time yet for deep consideration of Bruce in sexual terms, but giving it only a moment’s thought, well, he did want that, to grab Bruce’s hand in his own, rush them into the secret sanctuary of their room, and show Bruce exactly what a god can make him feel like, with masterful fingers on skin and confessions and secrets and primal needs whispered into his ear. Though, since Thor was still deep in the trenches of his Hulk/Bruce related guilt and couldn’t really think how he’d manage to present a request like that, those ideas would have to wait.

“Okay, sure. We are, like, three movies behind on our watch list, which I will not stand for,” Bruce breezed a laugh and Thor echoed too quickly and too loud, halfway to a yelp. Bruce pulled his face back as wrinkles folded between his brows, “Are all gods this odd, by the way, or is it a you thing? Cause, as an interested human, I’d like to know.”

Thor shrugged and his lips went lopsided. He pressed out a fit of giggles that resembled something like a schoolboy on drugs. He snapped his mouth shut after they were released, sucking in his lips to contain anymore ridiculously pathetic emissions, and walked chest forward to the room with a bemused Bruce trailing behind.

They put on a film Bruce told Thor was called Dazed and Confused. Thor was grateful for the noise and distraction and took it readily as a chance to figure out how he was supposed to continue on talking to Bruce without his mouth launching open and confessing all the small and large details of his heart. The movie was one of Thor’s more favorited, it turned out. The exploits of the wild cast stirred in him memories of the far too long gone warrior feasts after battle and holiday festivals that Thor adored and longed for again, though, this film contained a few less dead goats and sword fights than he was used too.

As one of the teachers in the movie harped on some freshman boys, Thor set out a deck of Asgardian cards, both desperate to occupy his hands and mind and determined to teach Bruce how to play this game properly.

“Here,” he muttered, issuing out a hand of seven cards to Bruce, “I’ll make a skilled cardsman out of you yet.”

Bruce snarked a chuckle and sent an ‘okay’ back Thor’s way. He flipped a card with an ethereal woman wrapped in leaves and branches down onto the metal floor between them. Thor groaned, mostly in jest as he found Bruce’s lack of skill sort of sweet, a reminder of his great amount of humanness, and handed the card back to Bruce.

“Very bad play.”

“What? Why?” Bruce brought the card up close to his eyes, as if the woman’s painted visage would tell him where he failed, “I needed to get rid of that card.”

“Yes, but you've given me the perfect chance to wipe my hand and win. Come on now, strategy, Bruce!” Thor’s hands clamped onto Bruce’s shoulders and rustled them as a sort of call to action, though, as Thor landed fully onto the firm ground of Bruce’s slumped shoulders and his palms tingled as they were flooded with energy, it came to his mind that it might have been too close to his Bruce related revelation to have physical touch. He yanked away as Bruce jolted.

“Ah, fuck, I just-”

“Sorry,” Thor grimaced.

“Control yourself, man,” Bruce chuckled, tossing his side against Thor’s. Thor beamed, which he promptly hid behind his cards.

“Well, play your card, then.” Thor’s voice was rigid, contained. He was overdoing it, he knew, but his body was lighting up and he could hardly hold back waves of extreme and likely terrifying love. Bruce slammed down a card, better this time, made Thor pause and consider his move, and Thor bristled with pride.

The movie thummed on in front of them. Thor’s eyebrows scrunched together as Slater lit up a rolled bit of paper.

“What is that? That Slater is doing?”

“Uh, smoking weed?” Bruce said. He put down three cards in one go. Thor grunted, good move. He stalled. Bruce grinned, lips tucked in on each other like a child with a toy. Thor really liked that, liked that too much.

“What’s that?” Thor asked. Bruce guffawed and Thor felt mildly insulted. Bruce stopped.

“Oh, yeah, you probably don’t have it on Asgard. It’s, um . . . do you know, like, drugs or medicinal herbs, something like that?”

Thor nodded. Herbs were fairly commonly used in both medical and recreational situations on Asgard. Earth shouldn’t differ too much. It clicked, then, and, given the rest of the movie, made sense.

“Oh, so sort of a . . .” Thor gestured out with a hand, a wave motion, and spacey expression, “perception altering, then?”

“Ahh, yeah, perception altering indeed,” Bruce mumbled with a grin on his breath.

“Do you use it?” Thor asked. Bruce’s eyes darted to the screen, red fluttering across his cheeks. Thor’s mouth shot into a smile on its own accord and he tucked it down as Bruce went more twitchy.

“Y-yeah, I do. More often since Hulk came into my life, cause, uh, the . . . weed helps, with the anxiety and anger and stuff,” he stopped himself and Thor gave him a moment as he worried his fingers at the back of his neck, “Is that, like, okay? I don’t know what the sort of, um, culture around recreational drugs is, or if you even have them, I-”

“No,” Thor cut him off, smiling. Many a late night had been spent in his youth with Asgard’s own take on ‘recreational’ drugs, “It’s fairly common on my world, too. Perhaps, when we land back on earth, you and I could partake in this weed together?” A breeze of a giggle simmered out of the corner of Bruce’s mouth and he nodded against his chest.

“Yeah, if you want.”

Thor’s cool burst at even the vaguest concept of sharing another experience with Bruce. He wanted weed if Bruce wanted it. He wanted to comprehend the intricacies of supernova death spirals and watch all the movies on Bruce’s list just so they could make another and find out the secrets that only he could know. All that Bruce was, Thor determined he would discover.

“So, when we land, you guys are going to see if you can find land in Norway, right?” Bruce asked. Thor frowned. Earth, which was coupled inseparably with the true weight of ruling and a wave of changes to follow, was something Thor was trying to place as far in the back of his mind as possible. Not to mention, Bruce following him to Norway didn’t seem to have much of a chance.

“Yes, we should draft a proposal for the Norwegian government soon. And you? Where will you go?” Bruce shrugged, eyes drifting back over to the screen, and Thor used the moment to wince his eyes shut. Bruce would probably go back to New York, secluded in his lab until he could forget Sakaar without the reminder of Thor. Maybe, if Thor was lucky, or unlucky he supposed, someone would try to blow up the world again and they would be forced into a reunion.

“I . . . dunno, I-maybe just back with Tony, if he’ll let me. I-I’m not sure where honestly. I don’t know if I have anywhere to go.” Thor’s brows shot up and then, as they fell, a well of sympathy filled in his chest.

“But, what about Romanoff? You and her were . . . lovers, yes? Maybe you could live with her. If she lives somewhere, I’m not sure.” Natasha hadn’t entered Thor’s head for a long time, but that was not to say Thor had forgotten her, especially not then. Midgardians were so hung up on relationships, on commitment and the who’s with who and men or women. A drip of anxiety tracked it’s way down his throat, chances dwindling.

“Oh.” Bruce slumped down against the bed, hand rubbing against his temple. Thor’s chest thumped. Oh faen, what if Bruce loved her?

“You two were together, right?” Thor tortured himself further.

“Well, ah . . . sort of? I-I don’t, we were something, yeah. But, it’s been two years. I’ve been gone. I . . . Nat’s moved on, I’m sure,” Bruce mumbled, going sickly around his eyes, “I can’t live with her, no.”

“Sorry,” Thor said, with a cautious dip of his shoulder to Bruce. Bruce leaned in a little to it. Thor sighed. His leg scooted over to Bruce’s, thighs pressed together.

“We were never serious. I thought maybe, just for a little bit, that we could have something and we were, like, gonna run away together, which was so dumb, but . . . I don’t think it was real. It was more like play dating or something.”

Thor nodded. Bruce’s head fell heavy onto Thor’s shoulder. Thor didn’t say a word, too tricky of a balance to test.

“Can . . . can I just come with you to Norway? I think I could be a really good political help and there’s a lab there where-”

“Yes!” It jumped out of Thor as an electric flush touched at the back of his neck. He laughed, catching the outburst and quieting himself, “You should come, that’s wonderful.”

“Okay, I’ll-awesome, I’ll come.”

Thor thought, if he could read auras, his would be reaching across the whole room. Briefly, Thor almost went for a kiss, because Bruce’s eyes were under folded lids scrunched into warm creases of irises and his full cheeks were resting under them. Thor stopped, though, on the edge of starting. Kissing then seemed ill-timed, too rushed, too rash.

As Bruce turned his eyes from Thor to his feet, a half grin on his face, Thor realized, with a start, that he hadn’t seen Hulk today. No pounding heads, no green tinted temples. Thor took it as a sign. He had to, he needed to actually, because Thor couldn’t do another four days without Bruce.

Let the wooing begin.

If you comment, I'll dm you my favorite recipe for meatballs (they are dope y'all and I also have a vegetarian version)

[spotlightonmringenue]

Hurting Henry Hidgens’ Feelings: A 3-Part Series

This is also kinda Tedgens but if you’re not into that just please read it for Professor Hidgens and skip over the gay bits

-------

Part One- Here It’s Safe and Sound

Summary: Henry doesn't mind the silence anymore, but he really needs a break from it.

 It's gotten to a point where the continuous silence no longer bothers him.

 It's not like he had been totally alone anyway, he had Alexa there to talk to him in case he felt particularly lonely or it got so quiet that the ringing in his ears became too much to handle. Even an AI with limited responses and answers was much better than living completely alone.

 Then again, living completely alone and safe was better than living among others and in constant fear of death or destruction. It wasn't like he was alone all day, every day either. Most people wouldn't have their day job double as their main source of social interaction, but Henry Hidgens was not most people. Even though he teaches a room of rarely interested students, he couldn't exactly call it thorough communication. They all thought he was just the kooky old teacher who was one more conspiracy away from joining the league of tin foil hats.

 Emma Perkins seemed to be different, though. Not exactly an instant friend, but still was kind enough to respond to his greetings when she entered the classroom and even brought him groceries once, which was a godsend because if Henry had to eat one more package of rehydrated noodles before the end of the world actually arrived, he was going to lose it. But still, mere acquaintances proved to be just enough for him. Besides, he couldn't handle more than that anyway.

 Not anymore.

~*~

 Henry takes a drag off his cigarette as he paces the floor. His mind is somewhere hazy, but his attempts to clear it and evaluate the situation at hand are proving to be quite difficult. He quickly thinks about how easily he had taken up smoking. He used to be disgusted, knowing how the chemicals royally fucked up the human body and vowed to never touch a cigarette in his life. But after everything, it became all too easy to go through the familiar motion of hand to lips to lungs to mind, and every tremor to still from the nicotine buzz.

 This new outbreak...he wonders if it's really all that bad. The infected are happy, no conflicts or arguments. They sing and dance in harmony but still maintain a sense of individuality. Humanity had yet to find a way to create mutual peace among every member of its society, and it had thousands of years to do so. How was this all so bad if it's to create global calm?

 He's stopped pacing and remains stuck in such a daze of his swirling thoughts that he doesn't notice the door open, or the footsteps that follow it. It's only the words that cause him to jump out of his thinking to allow his ears to readjust to the sound of someone else's voice besides his own.

 "Everyone's asleep. They're beat after all the shit that's happened."

 The professor turns his head to glance at Ted, standing there with a demeanor that looks slightly different than it did when he'd arrived. He looks almost...scared. Not entirely, but as if he's so unsure of the future or his own fate than he can't help but display even the slightest bit of uneasiness. Henry can see it. He notices little things like that.

 "That's understandable. You've all had a rough day," he responds in his usual matter-of-fact tone, taking another drag off the cigarette he nearly drops when the tremor returns. "Aren't you tired as well? You've been through as much as they have today."

 Ted just shrugs and leans back against the wall, watching the other smoke and stare blankly at the floor. "I usually go to bed late anyway. Guess my sleep schedule doesn't give a fuck about the end of the world."

 Henry chuckles slightly in return, before taking a moment and extending his pack of cigarettes to offer up one to him. Ted shakes his head and softly declines as he sighs and glances around the room. "...Do you think it really is the end of the world?" Henry asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he talks through an exhalation of smoke.

 "What do you mean?"

 "I mean, what if it isn't the end of the world? What if it's the new beginning?"

 "...Are you seriously defending murderous aliens right now?" Ted asks, the tone he uses to ask the question cutting deep into Hidgens' subconscious. "They killed Charlotte. The only thing they're beginning is the fucked up apocalypse nobody wanted to be a part of."

 Henry doesn't have a response. He just sighs and smashes the finished cigarette into the ashtray. He has an overwhelming urge to go for another one, but he needs to pace himself, or even more, his supply of cigarettes.

 "So why do you stay cooped up in this giant panic room?"

 "I'm not cooped up, I'm safe. As I told you all, I predicted this scenario thirty years ago-"

 Ted looks at Henry with an expression that makes his heart stop. One with no trace of light-heartedness, one that's familiar and reminds him of things he doesn't want to think of. "I know I just met you today, but I can call out bullshit when I see it. There's gotta be some other reason."

 The older man has to look away, and the nerves culminate in him pulling another cigarette from the pack and lighting it as soon as it hits his lips. "There's just...a lot of things I've learned over the years. There isn't some other reason. There are many other reasons. If I can keep myself alive, then there's no point in taking risks."

 "I don't think being a part of society is taking a risk, professor. That's just stupid."

 Henry has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at Ted. To keep from explaining that the reason he keeps his distance is because of his first and last best friends. "You can't lose your friends if you don't have them to begin with," he says with finality, signaling that he was ending the conversation right there.

 After a few passing moments of silence, Ted pushes off the wall and feigns a yawn. "I'm gonna go get some sleep." He turns and makes way back to the door. "Goodnight, Professor Hidgens." The footsteps tapping on the floor sends Henry back to his thoughts. He thinks about the conversation, about his refusal to make friends...but sometimes he wants so badly to have connections with other people again. Maybe it's not as simple as he thinks it is. Maybe he can't just refuse to have people in his life because he's afraid to lose them again. Sometimes he longs for just someone, anyone, to at least call him by his first name. Hearing Emma call him Professor Hidgens reminds him of all he's accomplished and worked hard for, but he'd give anything to hear someone call him Henry again. To have that simple fucking connection of a first name basis.

 Maybe that could happen. Maybe that's the first step he needed to take.

 "...Henry," he says quickly before he can hear the sound of the doorknob turn. "My...you can call me Henry."

 There's a brief pause and slight tension that hangs in the air, and Henry moves to take another drag before he notices to his dismay that he had let the whole cigarette burn down to the filter.

 He doesn't look back at Ted. This whole interaction was making him stress enough. He can't add to it by looking back at what he's sure is the man's smug grin. He doesn't have to look back though, because the man quickly moves to stand in front of Henry, looking at him with a blank stare before a slight smile shows up. It's something new to Henry, something he hasn't seen from the man all day. He'd naturally assumed he wasn't one to display emotions...or at least, the positive ones.

 "Alright...goodnight, Henry," Ted replies to kill the silence, patting Hidgens' shoulder as he walks back to the door.

 And in an instant, Henry Hidgens is thrown back into the typical silence. The silence that doesn't bother him anymore, but now...neither does the sound.

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

Part Two- Still The Dance Goes On

Summary: Showtunes help Henry with whatever emotion he feels.

**Author’s Note: I’d recommend listening to “Rememb’ring You” from Yank! the Musical while listening to this, since it’s the song I’ve quoted and will give you the feel I was going for with this part**

 Henry's passion for musical theatre never really left him. If anything, it only got stronger as the pressures of science caused him to seek the comfort of showtunes. He often listened to act one mind blowing numbers to pump him up and motivate him to continue with his work, or sang both parts to sappy duets as he double checked the security cameras surrounding his home. They never failed to help keep him in a high energy mode.

 But right now, Professor Henry Hidgens was not in the mood to stay high energy.

 He's staring straight up at the ceiling, laying flat across a bare table in his lab as he mindlessly lets the cigarette dangling between his fingers burn down without so much as acknowledging that it was in his hand. He's beginning to no longer need them anyway. They're mostly there as a force of habit, or to remind the man that he was holding something he couldn't drop and therefore kept him grounded.

 Soft music is playing in the background, thanks to Alexa, who he'd asked to play his rainy day playlist. It's comprised of soft ballads or songs he often listened to when he needed a break from the dulled silence he was accustomed to. Something calm, quiet, slow. He often sang along under his breath, or gently swayed his foot to the slow beat. Today, however, he's barely even paying attention to the words.

 Something's happened to him as of late. He would've wondered what it could be that changed, but he had caught on as soon as it had begun. The way Ted didn't grow annoyed or worried when he talked about musicals, but instead watched the professor with intrigue and genuine interest. The way he smiled and never snapped at him out of habit or in self defense. The way their connection had gone from mere acquaintances to a deep friendship in a matter or weeks, and he knew that's the exact reason that he no longer had the urge to chain smoke.

 Because the shaking hands are gone, the racing thoughts are slowed, and he no longer feels panicked by a strengthening connection. He knows that these things should be silly, he's a grown man for God's sake, but it's really not that simple. None of it is, but he can't keep dwelling on it. If he does, he's sure it'll kill him.

 It's later than he thought, he notices when he sees a digital clock reading "2:47 AM". He figures everyone else is asleep, and he should be too. But the sound of the doorknob and familiar footsteps make him sit up and take a deep breath. "I know you said your sleep schedule is different than most people, but I think this is a little extreme."

 Ted chuckles in reply and stands in front of the other, crossing his arms but in a way that feels welcome and not intimidating like he usually acts around others. This is different, a side of Ted that only the professor gets to see.

 "Says the only other person who's also awake," he says smugly, turning his head to the sound of the soft music playing. "Something wrong, Henry?"

 He still can't quite get used to Ted calling him that, but the way he says it carefully and never in a harsh tone makes Henry feel so relieved. After a quick pause to register what song was ending, he looks back to the man in front of him and shrugs. "I suppose not. I was just thinking."

 "You're always thinking whenever I come to talk to you. Do you ever take some time to not think about anything?"

 Henry thinks about it, then shakes his head. "There's no time to stop thinking during the apocalypse, Ted."

 The song that begins makes the professor perk up. A song he hasn't heard in so long, one he forgot he'd put in the playlist. He stands up and moves over to the speaker, unable to take his eyes off it.

 Ted doesn't know what to do. Henry's behavior is rarely normal so he's not usually phased by anything odd, but this was slightly confusing. He watches as the man turns away from the speaker to face him, taking a few steps forward and reaching out his hand.

 "I know you can't sing at all, but I think it's time for me to find out if you have enough coordination to dance," he says with a hopeful smile, praying to any deity that Ted couldn't see the tinge of sadness in his eyes. His smile grows wider when the man accepts his offer after a few seconds of hesitation, and they stand together with Henry's hand placed gently on Ted's waist and the other man's hand on the professor's shoulder, slowly moving along to the song.

 I can't seem to fall asleep, my darling  I keep rememb'ring you

 Henry doesn't notice how they get closer as they move, until he can feel Ted's hand move and his head replace it to rest on his shoulder. It's nothing too much, it's just comforting and real and something Henry was missing. Physical contact was an aspect of a friendship he missed. As much as he'd hate to admit it, he craved it more than any other form of contact.

 It's at the point when the song ends and they're still holding each other that something happens to Henry. His brain feels like it's exploding, and he lets out a cry of pain as his knees buckle, and he can feel Ted quickly move to keep him upright before he thankfully regains his strength and steps back. Through blurred vision, he can tell Ted looks worried, and he knows he's trying to hide it from him. Ted was really good at that, hiding emotions so he wouldn't look soft around anyone so nobody could hurt him. Henry noticed that. He noticed the little things.

 He can't really hear what Ted says to him as he helps him sit in a nearby chair, but he thinks the man was questioning if he was alright. Just like that, the pain disappears as quickly as it had appeared, and Henry nods to allow Ted to calm down. "I'm alright...nothing to fret about."

 "You can't say that after you almost passed out in my arms."

 He's right, but Henry doesn't know what to say. The pain was quick, and excruciating, but it's gone now, so it's fine. It's just fine. "...You should get some sleep. I'll be heading to bed soon myself."

 It was clear that Ted wants to say something back and argue about what had just happened, but he's growing tired and Henry's so adamant about being okay. He trusts Henry.

 "Okay...goodnight, Henry."

 "Goodnight Ted." The professor watches the other walked out from the chair, before he finally feels safe enough to stand up without getting dizzy. He sighs and stops the music, letting himself return to the quiet. In those moments of dancing with Ted, he realized he needs to talk about it. He needs to talk about the reason he's so afraid of connection, why he had said you can't lose friends if you don't make them.

 He needs to tell Ted about the boys. He needs to tell the story.

 Henry shifts from looking around his lab to stand in front of a mirror, sighing at the man staring back at him before something catches his eye. Or, rather, something in his eyes catches his attention.

 Flashes of bright blue, appearing and disappearing like lightning.

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

Part Three- Everything is Perfect/Nothing’s Real

Summary: Henry theorized this exact scenario thirty years ago. But what if wasn’t simply a theory?

 Henry Hidgens is fucked.

 He's got it under control, but he's still fucked.

 As he paces the floor, he's thankful that everyone else is upstairs getting drunk and he has time to temporarily return to isolation and figure things out. He had made some excuse about needing to go to the lab and do some more research on the blue shit, which just made the others nod and let him walk out of the room. He quickly checks everything over. The gates are locked, the security cameras are perfectly placed to cover every spot of the perimeter of his home, and just in case, he's fully equipped in case all else fails.

 He checks his reflection in the mirror again, and nothing's changed. His eyes are still flashing bright blue, and it's more prominent than before. It's impossible to hide now. He needs to think of a way to explain without causing chaos. But then again, this isn't something he could talk about with ease. He still has trouble understanding it himself.

 There's a knock on the door, and his eyes return to their natural color. He's relieved, but he knows it's only a matter of time before the flashing returns. As he crosses the room to open the door, he hopes it's not who he thinks it is. That hope fades when he sees Ted standing there, hands in his pockets.

 "Alice is making them watch Moana. I decided to duck out."

 Henry laughs softly and steps aside to let Ted in before shutting the door behind him. "You should've stayed, it's a good movie."

 "I don't really like kids' movies," Ted replies with a shrug, looking around the room. "So, what's going on with the blue shit?"

 It takes the professor a second of confusion before he remembers he was supposed to be in the lab running tests, so he immediately fumbles over a response. "I've got a few tests that I'm running that need some time before I'll have the results, but I'm convinced that there's quite possibly a way for the aliens to infect us without entirely doing so, allowing it to hide in our subconscious for years, even decades, before finally spreading to take over."

 Ted listens to Henry talk and looks more perplexed with each word. "So they can just hide in our bodies? That sounds crazy."

 As if on cue, the excruciating migraine returns, this time for the third time that day. He groans loudly and collapses, feeling as though he's being electrocuted from the head down. It's another few passing seconds of pain and blurred vision before it dissipates, and then he can tell that Ted is yelling out his name in horror.

 "What the hell is going on?! You can't brush this shit off again!" he snaps, and Henry knows it's because he's scared.

 "I...okay," the professor starts, regaining his strength and getting up from the floor to take a seat. He grabs his cigarettes from the table and lights the first one he's had in weeks. He had pretty much quit, but this occasion was acceptable for him to just smoke that one. He doesn't think he can get through the story without it. After a couple drags and seconds of silence, he sighs and looks at the floor, too scared to look at Ted in fear of the flashing color returning.

 "Remember the musical I'm writing? Workin' Boys?"

 Ted nods enthusiastically, the mention of the show making him grin. He loved hearing the other talk about it whenever he had the chance. "Yeah, why?"

 "...Well, it's based on a true story. All of those boys were my closest friends. My best friends."

 "Were?" Ted asks, his brows scrunching up as he sat in a chair in front of Henry. "What happened?"

 The man takes another long inhalation, wishing he at least had enough common sense to go grab some booze to take the edge off before he had started the story. "Do you also remember how I said I theorized this exact scenario thirty years ago? And how Paul was skeptical about that?" Ted simply hums an agreement and Henry can no longer hide.

 "There's a reason for that. And it wasn't so much a theory as it was a prediction."

~*~

 Henry Hidgens looked at his watch for what felt like the thousandth time. He had been early, but now it was 5:09 and he was still the only person there. He knew full well that the other boys weren't as picky about time as he was, but they also knew he would never let them hear the end of it if they arrived much later. Nevertheless, he just sighed and pushed his sleeve back down over his wrist, looking around the football field. Not a single person was in sight, which was admittedly different than the usual few people walking around, but he figured they were all most likely stuck in afternoon traffic. That's probably where the others were too.

 He decided that waiting by himself was getting too boring and decided to take a stroll on his own. He couldn't really go very far though. No matter how many new stores or diners that opened up around town, Hatchetfield felt so incredibly small, but was also the whole world to Henry. It's the place he had grown up, and despite how tiny it was, he could never see himself leaving. He had all he wanted right there. A stable business job, close friends, regular musicals playing at the Starlight. What more could he want?

 As he circled back to where he'd been, he could see someone walking toward him from a distance. He could tell who it was right away, the ugly tie giving the man away. Stu always wore the most atrocious ties, but Henry couldn't help but laugh at them. "How are you supposed to play in that suit?" he asked the man with a chuckle, but as he got closer, Henry noticed something different about Stu. The way he was walking towards him, with a slight smile that just didn't look right.

 And when he finally got close enough, he realized that Stu was humming. That was definitely different. Stu didn't hum. He didn't like doing things like that, singing or dancing. So when he began to sing, and his expression turned to something more sinister, Henry went from confused to frightened.

 "What's going on? Stu, what are you doing?!"

 "I want you to join me, Henry! We can sing together forever! Doesn't that sound great?"

 As he began to back up, Stu only walked closer to him, until he finally grabbed him and covered his mouth. Henry's mouth began to burn, and the sharp taste of metal made him squirm to try and get out of his friend's grasp. The burning sensation moved down his throat but still lingered in his mouth as he managed to push the other away and take a step back.

 The sound of a gunshot made the man flinch, and the sight of his friend laying on the ground made him feel like he was sinking.

~*~

 "...I assume that Stu was their trial run because no outbreak happened, and the government organization that covered up his death told me there were a few other casualties, but since the population in Hatchetfield was so small and spread out back then, they had been able to catch on and contain it. They told the public that Stu had been killed while being robbed. The other boys...they knew I was with him when he died. They blamed me for not being able to save him. He was the youngest of all the rest of us. Super smart, skipped a few grades. He needed someone to protect him...and I couldn't do it. Everyone took his death hard...including me. I haven't seen the other boys since his funeral. And since then, I've been preparing for it to all happen again. To find out just what happened to Stu. I suppose I got my answers."

 There's silence when Henry finishes speaking, and he lifts his hand to quickly wipe away the tears threatening to spill. He finally arrives at the part of the story that he's worried the most to tell Ted. The part he knows will scare him.

 "I think Stu infected me. Partially, at least."

 Ted quickly stands up, the fear evident in his eyes. "No, but you're-"

 "Still physically conscious, yes. I believe it hasn't developed enough to make me a part of the hive, but it's trying to evolve. That's what's causing the pain I'm experiencing, and my spontaneous bouts of humming to myself. Most of the time I can't control it, but I don't mean to startle you all."

 The other man begins to pace, shaking his head as he tries to process everything he was just told. It's a lot, and Ted doesn't know what to do. Eventually, without saying anything, he starts to walk back to the door.

 But Henry can't let him walk out. Panic rises in him because he can't lose another friend. He'd lost so many so quickly. He can't lose another friend, not to these aliens again. Most of all, he can't lose another friend, especially when he thinks he just might love this one more than a friend should.

 "Ted, wait!"

 "Get away from me! You've been keeping us locked up here with you when you've been one of them the whole time! You're probably just waiting to infect us all! And I fucking trusted you!"

 The words hurt him. I trusted you. Words that were all too familiar. He trusted you, Henry, and you let him die.

 This can't happen again. He'd die before he lost Ted.

 He quickly stands from his chair and rushes over to him, and before he can fully assess his actions, he pulls him close and kisses him. It's a little awkward since Henry's not used to kissing someone and isn't used to leaning down. He can tell that Ted's shocked, but he still kisses him back. It's not the spark-flying fireworks that his hopeless romantic twenty-two-year-old self had thought of, but it's real and it's comforting above everything else, and he loves it all the same.

 As he pulls back and looks at the man in front of him, he knows that Ted can see the bright color flashing in his eyes. And he knows he can also see those same eyes welling with tears.

 "I can't lose another person to this, Ted. Please. I can figure out how to stop it. I will figure out how to stop it. If I can't...you can," he says firmly, looking over at his stock of shotguns, all lined and prepared for any aliens that managed to get through the gates.

 Ted follows Henry's gaze and quickly shakes his head. "No. We're not talking about that. We...we gotta get everyone else in here. Six brains are better than one, and we need every idea we got to figure it out."

 Henry had never seen the other so determined before. Or so genuine. It was as if kissing him had flipped a switch in him, or had made any walls he'd built break down.

 Perhaps Ted had done the same to him.

 As the professor just nods and watches him leave, he gets another flash of pain in his head, but not so bad that he can't stand it. It's pain he can manage. Pain he's managed for twenty-seven years, that he just passed off as headaches for far too long.

 He knows he lied to Ted when he said he could stop it, but he needs to buy some time. He needs this time with him. To have one last lasting connection with someone before he goes. If anyone's going to kill him, he'd rather it be Ted when Henry's so far gone that he's no longer conscious of his own actions.

 It's getting stronger, and he knows it. But he can hold on for just a little longer. He has to.

----

WELP THAT’S THE END I’M GONNA GO DIE IN A HOLE AND NEVER WRITE FANFICTION AGAIN OK BYEEEEE

[kusunogatari]

                                                         [ @historias-multorum ]                                                                    𝕩     𝕩     𝕩                                                                    𝕩     𝕩     𝕩                                                                    𝕩     𝕩     𝕩

Three weeks. Three weeks since the attack of the demon boar on his village. Three weeks since its evil took hold of his arm, infecting his flesh with poisonous hatred. Three weeks since Uchiha Itachi was given a choice: stay with the remnants of his clan, and let the mark slowly devour him...or rise to meet the fate he’d been given. Journey west to seek what had turned a god into a demon.

As fixated as he has tried to remain on his goal, thoughts of home still cross his mind. The kind smile of his mother, the stern instruction of his father, and the adoring looks of his little brother. All left behind, never to be seen again: his hair is cut. He can never go home.

Besides...there’s no hope for him there. All he can do now is keep moving forward. Pray that, somewhere along this road, salvation may wait for him. And if not that...maybe a kind of peace before the end.

Taking the road at a walk atop his elk, Itachi stops as they round a bend, catching sight of a village. Smoke rises from thatched roofs, people running and screaming. Some kind of battle…? No...only one side seems to be armed.

Chest clenching, he watches in torn horror. He’s only one man - he can hardly save a village from an onslaught. But as he stares, more samurai approach from behind with a shout. Arrows whisking past his ears, he urges his mount to a run, drawing an arrow as he prepares to cut through the crowd.

But as the string pulls taut, the muscles of his afflicted arm quiver, trembling and writhing before releasing the draw. With a whistle, the bolt finds its mark...cleaving a man’s head from his shoulders.

Teeth grit as he grips his limb, panic begins to set in. What’s happening to me…?!

Shocked at his power, the remaining warriors let him pass, staring in fearful awe.

Not letting up his gallop for over a mile, the pair eventually slow. By now, the throbbing in his arm has settled to a dull buzz. Stopping at a stream, Itachi bathes the mark in the cool running water, noting the change in the blemish.

“...it’s growing.”

Their travel pace stays slow until reaching another village. This one, peaceful, bustles with people and business. Straw hat drawn over his head and kerchief over his face, Itachi ignores the strange looks he gets. It didn’t take him long to realize that he sticks out like a sore thumb. Pushed to the fringes of the empire, the last dredges of the Uchiha have been isolated - unchanged. His old-style attire and unusual mount have kept more eyes on him than he’d like.

Leading his elk as they traverse the streets, he stops at a stand to pick up a sack of rice - his provisions are running far lower than he’d like, and he still has miles left to go, destination not yet wholly known.

Lost in thought as the woman fetches his rice, he looks up as she hands it over, in turn giving her a small nugget from his pouch. “Will this suffice?”

Taking the gold, she squints before giving him a glower. “Does this look like money to you? Hand back that rice - unless you can pay, you’ll get nothing from me.”

“Now now, wait a moment.”

Both of them glance over, as well as the growing crowd. Stepping up on tall geta, a priest flashes a charming smile. “Mind if I look at that shiny pebble, ma’am?”

She scoffs. “Be my guest.”

Accepting the piece, he looks it over carefully. “...well, by the gods - this isn’t just a rock, it’s a gold nugget! Now, I’m no expert, but…” He seems to try to weigh it in his palm. “I’d say this would be worth not just one bag of rice, but three! Maybe even more!”

Eyeing the crowds as they gawk at the gold, Itachi’s instincts tell him to move. Rice in hand, he turns and makes to leave before a riot breaks out.

“Hey, hey! Wait -!”

Grabbing the priest’s wrist, the woman insists, “Don’t wander off with my gold!”

Remounting his elk, Itachi hears the priest run up behind him. “Where are you running off to, huh? We haven’t even introduced ourselves! Jiraiya, traveling priest. And don’t sweat the gold debacle - I was happy to help. Y’see, you helped stave off those samurai, and I happened to be caught in the middle of it. As I see it, it’s the least I could do to repay you.”

Glancing over, Itachi doesn’t reciprocate. Behind them, he can hear more footsteps.

“Yeah, we’re being followed,” Jiraiya murmurs. “Guess all that ruckus over the gold caught the wrong attention. They’ll try to kill and rob us in the night. How about we make them work for their catch, eh?” With surprising agility, the priest takes off at a dead run.

Not sure what to make of this, Itachi weighs his options before urging his mount to a gallop.

Behind, the small group of thugs slow to a stop.

The pair keep their pace for a good while, stopping in what look to be ruins. Tucking into a crevice, they set up a temporary camp. While he doesn’t trust this man...Itachi figures he might be useful company. So as Jiraiya works on a stew, he explains some - but not all - of his story. His name and exact location are left out...he reveals only his purpose for traveling. Maybe this rather...strange priest can help him narrow down his search.

“Well, you made it this far, and then lost the trail...it happens. Say you’re cursed, are you? Many people feel that way now. Violence is everywhere.” Jiraiya nods to their surroundings. “See these ruins? When I last came through here, it was a village. Then something wiped it out...plague, landslide, fire, flood...and now, it’s a ghost town. What I mean to say is, everyone dies. And there are angry ghosts everywhere you walk. They starved, they’re killed, they’re sick...and no one gives a damn. Here, give me your bowl - the stew’s done.”

Lost in thought, Itachi does as asked, only half listening as the priest rambles on. It’s not until he notes the bowl’s make that dark eyes flicker up, expression stoney.

“...ever heard of the Uchiha?” Jiraiya asks, a knowing look in his eyes. “It’s strange, but...you remind me of them, with your stone-headed arrows, and that elk you ride.”

Staying silent, Itachi simply eats his meal, wariness ringing like a bell in his chest.

“...of course, they were all killed five hundred years ago,” Jiraiya then adds, taking a bite of his own. Grinning as he goes for more, the priest assures him, “I won’t tell anyone who you are, kid. I’ve got much bigger problems on my plate.”

After a thoughtful pause, Itachi reaches into his pocket before withdrawing the iron ball that had been found in the demon’s body. “...have you ever seen anything like this in your travels, priest?”

Accepting it, Jiraiya gives it a once-over. “Hm...can’t say I have.”

“That was inside the boar. I’m convinced it’s what ultimately killed him...and what drove him to fall from kami to demon.”

The pair fall into silence, Jiraiya’s gaze far away as he thinks. “...you know, some say that far to the west from here, in the mountains...dwells an ancient god. The spirit of the forest. They claim that, in his woods, beasts are all giant, as they were when man was young. But it’s a dangerous place for humans - no one enters and leaves alive.”

Maintaining a blank facade, Itachi’s heart leaps. Giant animals…? Like the boar? Then...that must have been where he came from! If he can make it there...perhaps he’ll find what he’s looking for. It doesn’t matter if the woods are dangerous - he’s a dead man walking, anyway. If he fails...perhaps an obliging beast will be his end.

...that settles it, then.

Sleeping lightly, he rises before the priest, quietly packing up camp. From here...he needs to go on his own.

No one else is going to get hurt.

Leading his elk from their camp, he gives one last bow to his companion before mounting and heading west.

Days blur together as he follows the trails and roads further and further from home. As the terrain starts to steepen, and the forests grow ever-thicker, a kind of knowing fills his chest.

He’s close.

Riding alongside a river, Itachi has to do a double-take. Dark eyes go wide, watching as bodies of oxen and people are washed downstream. Did the rain the previous night cause a landslide somewhere?! But then -!

Perking up, he dismounts, making his way to the bank where a body is caught. Holding a palm over the man’s mouth, he can feel breath. Carefully, he hauls the stranger from the water, placing him further up the bank before finding another. Checking the men’s wounds, he notices his elk’s cautious gaze across the river.

...is there someone else…?

Carefully treading over rocky outcroppings, Itachi keeps his face covered, peering through washed up debris along the river’s edge.

What he sees shocks him to stillness.

Laid along the opposite bank is a glittering silver creature. And from the trees emerge two more, far smaller and looking to the first with concern as it rises.

...those...those are dragons…! Then surely he must be near the forest spirit’s dwelling if kami like this are here!

Too lost in thought, he almost misses one final detail.

They aren’t alone.

Along one of the younger beast’s back is a woman. Dismounting, she runs to the elder dragon, gentle hands looking to a wound in her chest. Without hesitation, she begins sucking and spitting blood, attempting to clear it.

Staring, Itachi tenses as the god turns to face him, lips lifting in a snarl.

Attention brought, the woman does the same.

Blood is smeared across the pale skin of her face, silver eyes flashing like mirrors. Wild waves of white hair flow down her back, a strange mask and furred cape beneath them. Her outfit is exceedingly primitive.

The pair lock eyes, and Itachi finds himself frozen. What should he…?

Turning to face him fully, she spits the last of the blood from her mouth, watching him warily with furrowed brows.

Making up his mind, Itachi climbs to the height of the debris, pulling the cloth from his face. “O-kami-sama! I am Uchiha Itachi, from lands far to the east! Are you gods of the forest ruled by the forest spirit?”

The trio of kami stare alongside their human companion, the younger pair tensed as though ready to fight. Silence rings as each side seems to size one another up.

But then the mother turns, lifting herself to her feet and beginning to limp back into the treeline. Making to follow, her children keep wary eyes at their corners to watch him as the woman leaps astride one.

“...you should go back from whence you came,” is all she offers, letting her mount carry her into the trees where they disappear into the shadows.

Heart in his throat, Itachi watches them go before turning as a voice cries out.

Back where he left the two men, one attempts to scramble back, panicked and wide-eyed. Beside him sits a kodama, head tilted curiously at him.

Sighing lightly, Itachi approaches, offering, “You should keep still - your injuries are grave. There’s no need to be afraid - this little one is a tree spirit. They reside in healthy forests.”

“But...but they’ll bring their master to us!”

“Master…?” Itachi’s brows furrow. “...the dragons?”

“No, there’s a strange beast in these woods! It’s a deer, but some say it has a face of a man! And it - ah! Look! More of them!”

All around them, several more kodama reveal themselves, watching the humans.

“...if my mount isn’t afraid, we have nothing to fear. These spirits are harmless...so long as you treat them with respect.” Moving to approach one of the kodama, Itachi softly asks, “Please spirits, we mean you no harm - may we be granted passage through your woods?”

Clearly shy, the spirit slowly vanishes.

Hauling the conscious man atop his elk and doing his best to splint his injuries, Itachi takes the other on his back and just...starts to walk. A trail cuts through the trees, and several of the kodama seem to lead them down it. All around them in the treetops and branches, more of the tiny kami rattle and wriggle.

Clearly unnerved, the stranger offers, “You know, rumor has it that no human has ever come out of these woods alive, young man! Really, we should go back - there’s a road along the other side of the river!”

“The rains have made the current too strong...we’ll never make it across. And if we don’t get this man back soon, he won’t make it. A direct route is wiser. We’ll be fine.”

All the while, the parade of kodama keep their pace, all ending up at the biggest tree Itachi has ever seen. That must be the root of the forest...no wonder they gather here. It must be their birthplace.

Making their way past the thick trunk, the troupe emerges into a marsh. Clear water lies unmoving among the moss-covered trees, the air quiet and still. Sunlight dapples through the leaves to the plush undergrowth below.

Immediately Itachi has a feeling of knowing: this is a place beyond the mortal.

Watching warily, he eventually notices other tracks. Most are like those of a large bird or reptile...and among them, some like his own, only smaller.

The dragons and the woman came through here...it might even be where they live.

“Are...are we lost, young man? This place feels unwelcoming to humans…!”

“No, I think we’re safe...we’ll rest here a bit. You both need water…” Easing the man from his back onto one of the soft islands, Itachi fetches his bowl, rinsing it in the waters before going to drink.

...but then he sees it.

Another track, this one covered in shimmering butterflies. A strange, three-toed imprint, the likes of which he’s never seen before.

Dark brows furrow just a hair. What could have made these? And given their depth...it must have been recent. Scanning over the marsh, he stills as a herd of deer pass between two trunks, far in the distance. And among them...is a buck with antlers so branched and twisted, Itachi can hardly recognize them.

And yet, a feeling creeps into his bones. That...is it the -?

Before he can think, a painful spasm rocks through his cursed arm. The muscles quiver and writhe under his skin, as though reacting to the creature’s presence…!

Behind him, the injured man tenses. “S-sir? What’s going on? Are you all right?!”

Struggling to control his limb, Itachi holds it tight to his chest before plunging it into the water. The shock of cold slowly urges the reaction to a dull pulse, gooseflesh rising under his sleeve as sweat coats his brow.

Staring all the while...the creature then disappears. And with it, the last trace of reaction.

Releasing a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding, Itachi sits back on his haunches, struggling to breathe. Once his lungs calm, he takes water back to the strangers.

“...are...are you well, sir? You went pale as a ghost for a moment there!”

“I’m fine…” Sitting up the second man, Itachi guides the bowl to his lips before looking to the one atop his elk. “...tell me, did you notice anything there, in the distance?”

“Er...what?”

“...nevermind.” Easing his companion back down, Itachi assures him, “Hold on - we’re nearly through.”

Clearly deranged with exhaustion and pain, he can only mumble, “M’lady...I...failed you…”

Brow furrowing, Itachi lets him rest before turning to look back out over the marsh.

Whatever it was...it’s gone.

For now.

As they pack back up, Itachi can’t help but notice...he feels stronger…? Suddenly the man on his back feels light as a feather. Behind him, the stranger wonders at the lessening of his pain. ...perhaps those waters were blessed. Hopefully it will be enough to see us back to...wherever it is we’re going.

A scant hour later, light begins filtering thicker through the trees, until the troupe makes its way out into open air. “Oh...we made it! Sir, look - you were right! Home is just on the horizon!”

Eyes wide, Itachi gapes.

It’s like...a fortress…!

Along the edge of a lake, a bank is stripped of trees, their trunks instead sharpened and buried to form an imposing field of spikes. And from more of the trees is a thick, tall wall around a smokey, barren village. At the very center is a strange, pyramid-like structure, from which great plumes of black smoke belch.

And at one end, walking through a gate, is the rest of the men’s caravan: battered humans and oxen finally making it back to safety after their trek through the peaks.

Itachi can’t help a mixed feeling of both horror and awe.

The empty land stretches up from the lake, men working the soil with water and tools. Like a great ugly scar, the turned and stripped soil is a strip of muddy brown and red along the edge of the green yet untouched. It’s a formidable sight...but also one that brings a somber melancholy to his chest.

“What...is this place…?”

“It’s Tsunade-sama’s Iron Town! We work the land here to harvest and shape iron!”

Leading the way down to the bank, Itachi warily watches a few men with shored boats as his companion calls a greeting. They go pale at the sight of them.

Seems the stranger was right. No one’s made it through the woods...and the fact that they’ve done so is quite the shock.

After a brief explanation, they’re allowed onto one of the boats to ferry them across to the island. As his elk swims alongside, Itachi gazes up at Iron Town warily. So...they craft iron here.

He wonders if they were the ones who made the ball that weighs heavy in his pocket.

Word spreads of their arrival like buzz through a bees’ nest. By the time they land, a great crowd rushes to meet them, everyone clamoring in excitement at the two lives spared, and asking about others.

“I’m sorry,” one of the men murmurs, “But...we were the only ones to make it.”

As the townsmen make to carry the injured, Itachi abandons the boat, moving to stand beside his mount. Yelling his praises, the other howls in pain as he’s lifted from the bow.

Then, from near the gate, a man calls out for them to stop. Marching down with a small band of soldiers behind him, he squints at Itachi suspiciously.

Itachi simple stares back, cloth drawn across his face.

“...as happy as I am to see my men brought back to me...something doesn’t feel right about all of this,” he growls, brow furrowed and lip curled. “You’re telling me that you - with two injured men - made it back here almost as quickly as the rest of our caravan? And not only that, but through the woods where the gods dwell? You really expect me to to believe that -!”

He’s cut off as a woman flies down the slope, coming to stop beside one of the injured. Puffing up, she begins lecturing him about losing his job now that he’s hurt, his stuttered rebukes ignored. When she rallies on the head of the guard, even he seems to back down to her temper.

Turning to Itachi, she then finally softens. “...listen, stranger...my husband may be an idiot, but I’m relieved he’s alive, and home where he belongs.”

Smiling beneath his mask, Itachi gives a soft chuckle. “I’m heartened to hear it. For a moment, I thought he would have been better off left by that river.”

Eyes widening, she then gives a hearty laugh.

Above them, another voice then sounds.

Everyone looks up to see a woman of blonde hair and amber eyes staring down at them. “...bring the stranger to me later. I wish to thank him personally.” Looking to her men, she then apologizes, listening as his wife insists it’s not necessary. “...I was the one leading the caravan, and tasked with defending it. This was all my fault.”

“Well, if it hadn’t been for you, everyone would have been snapped up by those dragons, and we’d all have to find new husbands!”

The gaggle of women behind their apparent leader laugh, and her lips quirk. “...rest for now, stranger. We will speak again this evening.”

Addressed specifically, Itachi respectfully bares his face before bowing.

Let inside, he is given a brief tour of the village they go through. There’s no true homes to speak of - just barracks where the men and women sleep. Ration tents and feeding halls line the streets, oxen housed and fed within the safety of the fortress’ walls. As full of people it may be, Itachi can’t help but feel this place isn’t truly one to live...just to stay as they work. He’s sure most must be trying to save up their fortunes in order to eventually find a way to leave, and start lives of their own.

...he wonders if such a thing is even possible.

Led to one of the men’s bunkhouses, he’s fed alongside them, his elk given cattle feed in one of the barns. To his embarrassment, women gather at the windows and door to stare and whisper, wondering at his appearance.

“Is this any way to act when we lost so many of our men so recently?” one man calls out.

“No harm in looking!”

“Or appreciating!”

“Stranger, you should come to our quarters,” another woman offers, grinning slyly. “You shouldn’t have to stay here in the barn -”

“All right, that’s enough! How dare you be so disrespectful! We risked our lives, and many were lost, to bring you that rice you’re eating!” another man cuts in.

“And who made the iron that paid for that rice?” a woman counters.

So, the women forge the iron…? Curiosity peaked, Itachi smiles. “If it’s no trouble, I’d be happy to see where you work, ladies.”

At once, they’re all atwitter again, wishing him well and not to forget.

Opposite him, one of the men scoffs. “Tch, spoiled-rotten women...Tsunade treats them far too kindly…”

“Well, doesn’t the saying go, ‘happy women make a happy village’?”

Immediately, several men laugh. “Oh, please - these women are all prior whores. Tsunade buys up the contract of as many brothel women as she can find to work her bellows!”

“She’s just kind, that’s all,” one man pipes up, quickly talked down.

“I’ll tell you what, she sure changed things around here when she showed up...not even afraid of the gods! She even managed to slay Nago!”

“Nago…?” Itachi questions, gut fluttering with knowing.

“Yeah! He was a huge boar god, but Tsunade-sama took care of him with her rifles!”

The other men nod. “We want to expand our hunt for iron, but the forest creatures wouldn’t let us! They hated that we had to cut down the trees to get to the ore. The boars, especially. We were stuck with no work until she showed up and cleared them out!”

Listening as the story is told, Itachi feels a creeping pain along his arm, hand grasping the limb as it aches. Glaring at the fire, his lack of reaction slowly lessens the men’s enthusiasm.

“...are you all right?”

He grits his teeth, not wanting to be impolite. “...I just wonder what became of the boar...if he died in great pain, seething with rage…”

Once finished eating, he’s escorted to see Tsunade, still working to finish a delivery of iron. Looking to him with a mix of curiosity and wariness, she admits, “Some of the people here are convinced you’re a spy for the gods, given your path through the forest. Others think you work for the samurai lord looking to conquer my town. You’d be amazed how many people want to take this iron…but let me ask you directly: why are you here?”

Rather than words, Itachi simply slips off his top, baring his arm and the swelling mark. In his hand, he offers the iron ball. “...something tells me you’ll know what this is. It was buried in the body of a boar god...and when I fought him to protect my people, I was cursed. This mark is its seal. Soon enough...it will kill me.”

“...and where do you hail from?”

“...somewhere far from here. I can tell you nothing else.”

Puffing up angrily, her guard demands an answer, but she lifts a hand. “...but what are you looking for?”

“...to see with eyes unclouded by hate.”

“Eyes unclouded…?” Mirthful laughter bubbles up her throat. “I believe I understand...come, I have something to show you.”

“...my lady?” her guard asks, only to be tasked to remain behind and work in her stead.

Through the village she leads him, to a walled-off corner. “This is my garden...no one else dares enter.” Within, she shows him a crowd of people, most covered in white bandages. One offers her some contraption, the lot of them discussing it until Tsunade shows it to him. “...these people design and build my rifles. With them, we’ll eliminate the forest monsters, and any samurai who dare attack my walls.”

Itachi’s face slackens…then hardens in temper. “...first you slay the boar god...now you look to build deadlier weapons? You’re only going to make things worse!”

“I’m sorry about your fate, Itachi...really, I am. That stupid beast...it was me he should have cursed, not you…”

At her words, the twisting in his muscles returns, and before he can blink, Itachi finds himself half-drawing his weapon, only barely managing to keep it sheathed. The lepers all panic, but Tsunade remains.

“...does that arm of yours wish to kill me, Itachi?”

“...if it would break the curse, I’d let it tear you apart...but even that wouldn’t be the end, would it?”

“No...it would need a great many more lives to feel at peace.”

Outside, she demonstrates the rifle, shooting at apes looking to plant new trees. Lamenting their efforts, she asks Itachi to join her in killing the forest spirit.

“Are you mad…?”

“Without the god, the animals here would become mindless beasts...with the forest cleared, this land would be the richest in the world. And mononoke-hime will become human once more…”

The name, though unheard until now, brightens him. “...mononoke-hime…?” Is that -?

“A girl claimed by the forest gods, stolen away by the dragons. She gave up her humanity and now she lives to kill me.” After a pause, she gives him a sidelong glance. “...they say the blood of the forest spirit can cure anything...maybe even my poor lepers...maybe even you, Itachi.”

Temper flared...he just takes his leave. He promised to see the bellows, after all...and he needs something else to clear his mind. “...mind if I join you, ladies?”

They all stiffen in shock, but let him in. Giving it a few deep pushes of his foot, he earns a laugh from the women.

“You’ll never keep that pace!”

“Hard work, isn’t it…?”

“Mhm...and we takes shifts of four days.”

“A hard life…”

“Mm, maybe...but better than working the city brothels.”

“Yeah! Here we can eat as much as we want, and men leave us alone!”

“Unless we want  them to bother us,” they laugh.

Staying and chatting a while longer, Itachi then excuses himself, admitting of his plans to leave the following morning. The ladies protest, but he only offers, “There’s someone I have to find in those woods.”

Then, like a shock to his spine, a knowing straightens his back, looking toward the wall.

“...she’s here…”

A moment later, alarms begin to sound, shots firing from the wall. Trying to weave his way toward the ruckus, Itachi stiffens as he spots her running along a rooftop, mask drawn over her face and dropping as a shot crashes just behind her heels. Lightning fast, she whips a crude stone blade at him, forcing him to block with his own weapon.

“Wait - I’m not your enemy! Just -!”

Leaping back, she gives a last warning slash before dodging more men and taking back to the rooftops.

Teeth grit, he follows as the people warn of her target: Tsunade.

Up the forge she climbs, using the height to scan over the entire village. Below, Tsunade arms some of her women, calling out taunts to try to bring her down.

Struggling to catch up, Itachi tries to intervene. All around, more rifles are pointed from the rooftops and wall. Realizing it’s a trap, he tries to call out a warning. “Don’t do this, mononoke-hime! Go back to your forest! Leave this place!”

Ignoring him, she perches a moment longer. In the distance, a roar sounds over the valley. With that, she tenses before sprinting down the forge, blade drawn.

Shots then ring out, several tearing into the forge roof. One lands at her feet, throwing her askew as she rolls down the tiles to the street below.

Equally bombarded, Itachi watches as the women aim their rifles. The girl stands, and then a shot ricochets off her mask, which shatters as she crumples, unconscious.

The villagers cheer, making to storm her body.

Temper flares in Itachi’s veins. Reaching to a loosened beam from the barrage, he tears it off before throwing it between the so-called princess and the rest of the village. It lands dead-center in a sconce, sending fire and coals scattering to give him time to reach her. “Wake up…!”

Jostled for a moment, white-fringed silvers then snap open, slicing at him with a feral cry. Cheek nicked, he stumbles back as she charges past, making a beeline for Tsunade. Leaping over her guards, she reaches the town leader and begins to duel as the villagers encircle them.

Watching, Itachi’s anger is stoked once more, this time accompanied by a writhing of his arm and an ethereal wind. Knocking aside anyone in his path, he grabs the princess with his cursed arm, his other blocking Tsunade’s blade with his own.

“What are you doing…?”

“Lay down your arm - the girl is now mine.”

She grins, ambers shining with adrenaline. “I’m sure she’ll make a fine wife for you…!”

Turning to the crowd as the shadows over his arm flare, Itachi cries, “Look, everyone! This is what hatred looks like…! Soon, this curse will kill me...we have to stop the killing and anger now!”

“You know, you’re so worried about that arm of yours...let me just...remove it!” Swinging a second blade, Tsunade’s dodged and then stunned with an elbow to the gut. Next he does the same to the princess.

The villagers gasp.

“Someone come help her…!” he demands.

Once Tsunade is taken, he packs up the girl. “Now...I’m leaving, and she’s coming with me.”

“Oh no you don’t!” one woman cries, lifting her rifle. “No one treats m’lady so cruelly!”

Turning, Itachi simply stares.

“...if you take one step, I’ll...I’ll shoot!”

After a pause, he ignores her warning, turning and making for the gate.

Hold trembling, the woman hesitates before jumping at a cry behind her. Pulling the trigger, she fires.

The bullet runs him clean through the chest...but Itachi keeps walking.

The crowds quiet in shock.

Approaching the gate, Itachi demands it open, the guards resisting.

“Please,” one murmurs. “You have our thanks for saving our men...we don’t want to kill you.”

“I entered through this gate of my own free will...and now I will leave the same way.” Stepping up, he presses a hand to the shaved, shaped trees.

“Are you insane? It takes ten men to open that gate!”

Tensing, Itachi keeps up his pace. Shadows again flare over his arm, and with a creak, ever so slowly...it raises at his touch.

Blood pools beneath him, cries for his health ignored.

Beyond the gate, the twin dragons hiss, crouched as Itachi calls for their calm. “Your princess is safe! Wait there, and I will bring her!” Nodding to his elk, who passes first, Itachi turns to the villagers, giving a somber smile. “...thank you.” With that, he passes beneath the gate, letting it fall with an echoing thud.

Shocked silence follows in his wake.

Mounting his elk, Itachi keeps the unconscious girl at his front, struggling to stay awake himself. Blood...so much lost blood...a trail of it slithers down the elk’s rump before he slips from the saddle. Pain flares as he lands atop the road, the kami wasting no time in turning back to attack.

“No!”

At her word, they freeze. Struggling to dismount as the elk bucks, she eventually alights to the ground. “Leave him...he’s mine.”

Stepping up beside the pair of gods, she furrows her brow at the hole in his back. “...shot by his own kind...what a waste…” Seeing him twitch, she takes a knee at his side, mirror-like silvers flashing. “Why did you stop me…? Tell me while you live.”

Struggling to breathe, Itachi murmurs, “I didn’t...want them to kill you.”

“I’m not afraid of death...not if it gave me a chance to kill that devil-woman who kills the forest! You humans need to leave…!”

“I knew...when I saw you…”

Her brow hardens. “And I don’t fear you, either! I should kill you for getting in my way…!” Rolling him over, she takes his blade, holding the point to his throat. “...that woman is evil...and nothing will stop me from trying again to be rid of her! So long as she lives, these mountains aren’t safe…!”

“No...you must...live…”

“Silence!”

Dark eyes peel open to look at her. Anger colors her expression, fierce and untamed. So...this is how it ends, is it? He can make peace with that. “...beautiful…”

In a blink, her fury crumbles, staggering back in shock.

“What ails you, Ryū?” a dragon asks, curing around behind her with bared teeth. “Should I kill him…?”

Staring as he seems to blink in and out of consciousness, Ryū seems to battle with herself before nodding to her companions. “...go home. I’ll take care of the human.”

“And the elk…?”

“Yes...may we eat him?”

“No, I need him. Now go!”

The pair grumble before slinking away back up the mountainside.

Managing to calm the elk, Ryū brings him back alongside his rider, now fully lax. “...come. I need your help.

“We may save him yet.”

                                                        .oOO.

     THE LAST DAY. I am both sad...and yet very relieved xD Technically I’ve been working on all these for like two weeks to stay ahead, and even now the last day is a lot later than the rest. BUT IT IS DONE.      Thiiis is Ryū and @historias-multorum‘s Itachi crossed over into Studio Ghibli’s Mononoke-hime! Which I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF EARLIER cuz this is actually a crossover I’ve wanted to do for AGES, but I was so burnt out I just...completely spaced it. I attempted two others before finally getting this to work. To be fair, it IS still rushed. Partly because this is the last day, and I’m....VERY burnt out, but also because writing out this whole movie would take DAYS. So we have just a small section of it, and even then a bit trimmed because...guh @~@      BUT, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless, Ghost. You’re one of the closest friends I’ve made during my almost 4 years on this hellsite, and I love ALL of the bonds between our muses. Thanks for putting up with my shenanigans, lol <3      Anyway...I guess that’s it! As much as I wanna take a four hour nap, I’ve got several irl things to do now, so uh...woo xD

[thescreamingdemon]

Drug of Choice (@TattedTransient)

Landyn: [I’d given it the time needed, or the 10 minutes that I knew Cooper was waiting. I was dressed in the normal royal bollocks that showed respect and obedience. It was basically the same gear I’d had on when I was escorting Cooper to the dinner, but I didn’t have to take my weapons. Or add the facepaint. Which was a relief. I ran my fingers through my hair and then double checked the screen, nodding when it showered the same loop still running. I gave the room a once over and then moved to Coopers room, I knew he wouldn’t be there, but I knocked anyway. I waited a normal 30ish seconds and then opened the door, growling quietly in the hopes anyone within earshot would assume I was replying to some snarky comment of Coopers, “I’m going to a meeting, don’t get into trouble while I’m gone. I’ll be a few hours, if you need anything let the guards know at the end of the corridor and they’ll get me. All safety features are engaged so you’re safe. Try and sl……..fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I pulled the door shut, muttering about what an asshole he was on my way down the corridor. I could see the smirks of the other guards who were probably aware of my less than stellar track record, and my even less stellar personality. I nodded at a few that I knew more than the others and then rounded the corner that took me straight to Sebastian’s office. I kept my eyes straight ahead, focused on getting in there, and then getting out without incident. I was so focused I let my guard down, so when the hand closed around my throat, I couldn’t do much more than curl my fingers around the wrist, noting immediately that it was that of a female. I could have snapped it in a heartbeat, but I activated my brain instead and swung my gaze around to the mother of the bride, “Leighton, Ma’am, what can I do for you?” I kept my eyes locked on hers, knowing I only had to show submission to Sebastian and Cooper while in public. Leighton was fair game, and it would appear she knew it from the smirk on her face. That didn’t stop her fingers tightening, and her sharp talons digging into my skin just under my jaw on both sides, “Landyn, it’s nice to catch you before we go in. My daughter has some rather specific ideas on what she wants, and am sure Sebastian will argue many of them. I wanted us to come to an understanding before we went in.” She didn’t say more than that, but I knew what she wanted. I nodded quickly and then inclined my head slightly in a show of respect. “Cooper will want Jade happy, and I am sure that her ideas will meld with his perfectly. I will do the best I can to support your wishes for your daughter. Regardless of Sebastian, I am here as a voice for Cooper, not as an automatic second for Sebastian.” It was risky to throw that out there with ears being everywhere, but I didn’t care right at that moment. I had to have them both on side, Sebastian needed me in case his temper went too far. Leighton needed me to push Jade’s corner from Cooper’s side. I cleared my throat when the female stepped back, her thumb running over my lip before she ran her tongue over the tiny blood drops at the tip of each nail. She nodded again and then turned to walk ahead of me, waiting by the door for me to open it and announce her presence.

I stepped past Leighton and knocked once, I waited for the voice to echo through the heavy wood before opening the door and stepping so my back was to it, stopping it swinging shut again, “Leighton of Az has arrived.” I waited until Leighton swept by me before I stepped further into the room and let the door click shut behind me. Sebastian and Leighton embraced briefly before he came over and inclined his head towards me. The permanent look on his face, like he was sucking lemons and liked it made him look cruel but like he was amused by it. I exhaled quietly and waited until he was done looking me over before he moved back towards his desk. He sat down and gestured for us to do the same thing. I waited for Leighton to pick her seat before taking the other empty one. Sebastian waited a heartbeat before turning to me. “They getting along, Azathoth?” I flinched at the name that I hadn’t used in a very long time, preferring to keep my human name anywhere I went. I knew they’d already announced me to the fucking world and their baby when we’d had the introduction dinner, but it still didn’t sit well with me. I exhaled and then nodded, asking to be called something else would only end up being the last thing I was called, “They spent a few hours together in Cooper’s room.” I heard Leighton inhale sharply, her disapproval pouring off her. Sebastian didn’t take his eyes off me though, “They were chaperoned by myself and Jade’s guard Sky at all times. They talked and got to know each other after they’d finished the meal.” I turned my attention to leighton, “I walked your daughter and Sky to their part of the………of your home Sebastian, and then went back to check on Cooper. Then I came here.” I nodded and kept it at that. Knowing I’d either get questions or I’d get prodded until I snapped. Sebastian stayed quiet for a minute, long enough that I though I might just have got away with it. But then he gestured at me, “I believe you were punished yesterday for the embarrassment of Leighton and myself at the hands of your charge. It was meant to last longer than a few hours. I hadn’t realised my son had an understanding of these things, though it probably should have crossed my mind.” I cleared my throat, but lowered my gaze to the desk so I didn’t look like I was challenging him. The next words out of his mouth were certainly meant to push my buttons, “Shirt off so I can see what’s left of your punishment. I don’t feel you’ve really learnt anything from it.” I exhaled hard but stood anyway, “Of course, sir.” I parroted, like it was second nature, even though I was sure they could both hear my back teeth grinding together. I pulled my shirt over my head, wincing at the pull from the gashes that were still very sore across my back. The only thing they weren’t was infected with poison. I felt Leighton’s heated gaze as I turned for Sebastian to be able to inspect my back. Why were all the older demons horny shit who didn’t understand boundaries. My jaw was still stinging from the nail marks I knew would still be visible. I held still and heard Sebastian stand and move around the desk, tisking as he went, “They look good, like someone took good care of you. My son isn’t a total barbarian then. That should please you Leighton, he might be able to give your daughter the best of both worlds. Kind and caring when needed, but strong and dominant when she gets out of hand.” The amusement that dripped from each word had me hiding a shiver. Cooper was all of that, but Sebastian didn’t need to know that from me. Instead I kept my chin lowered and waited until I felt the cold metal from his extended talons on my shoulder. I tipped my chin towards it and looked over my shoulder, “I’ll work out what to do with you after this meeting is concluded. We have work to do first.” He let the metal trail over my shoulder and down my arm, gripping my wrist in the same place he’d buried the things in only a few hours before. The tips scraped over the wounds, making me hiss in a breath. He urged me to turn, and I did, taking in both of them as I faced them again, “You wanted me here to discuss wedding plans and the honeymoon. I’m not sure it’s something Cooper has ever thought about, but I can take back whatever is decided, including timescales, and then he’ll he better equipped to deal with whatever comes.” I nodded and watched Sebastian’s smirk turn amused, “It’d be a terrible thing if my son wasn’t well equipped to deal with whatever I threw at him.” Leighton laughed and stood too. I made a move to grab my shirt, but she took it before I could reach it, placing it on her seat before twirling a finger in the air, “Lets get this started, I’m tired and I want to speak with my daughter about her evening.” I linked my fingers in front of myself and thanked everything I could that the trousers hadn’t had to come off too. Sebastian seemed to click back into business mode as he spoke, “I was thinking of a traditional wedding ceremony, robes, sacrifice, the normal couple standing in for the bride and groom for those of us who enjoy that kind of show.” He looked at Leighton, who was flushed but smiling. The cruelty in her gaze always surprised me, even though it shouldn’t. The whole thing sickened me, watching two people fuck in the middle of a crowd of people hadn’t ever appealed to me, but I had to admit it was good that it wasn’t Cooper who would be expected to do that. He’d never go for the sacrifice either, no matter who it was. Angel, demon, human, he’d not go for it. I opened my mouth to speak when Sebastian started up again, “Though I guess we could jump the gun and add some cotton to surround the platform and just go all out with Cooper and Jade, but I can’t think that would be fun for anyone involved, including myself.” And we’d hate Sebastian to be put out watching his son fuck another female. God forbid. I licked my lips and risked a glance at Leighton. The bitch was actually considering it. What the fuck. This was her daughter?? I shuffled slightly on the spot to get their attention, “I am not sure Cooper will be overly willing to sacrifice someone on his wedding day. You know I do what I can to keep him in line, but to avoid any unnecessary embarrassment of yourself and the Az house, it might be worth skipping that one?” I shrugged a shoulder and looked between them both. They were communicating silently, I waited and waited until they nodded, “Fine, no sacrifice. Unless anyone attacks in the next day or so, In which case we’ll take one of them.” I didn’t nod, but I didn’t challenge it. It was the best I could do. Sebastian returned to his desk and jotted down some notes before looking back at the two of us, “Now, the choice of where they go for their honeymoon. I would think somewhere close would be advantageous for us all, keep them safe.” I worked hard not to react to that, the only person who they weren’t safe from was in this room. And the further away they were, the better off. I felt Leighton step forward, “Can they not skip that part? There’s perfectly good homes here they can have, move them into their marital home and they can start learning the ropes from day one.” I almost laughed. Holy shit, that would go down like a led balloon. I saw Sebastian narrow his eyes and I stepped forward slightly, “Or, we could find somewhere that’s small and secluded, close enough to get to within a days travel but that offers protection from all sides.” I didn’t even feel the slap until after my head had snapped to the side. I growled instinctively and ran my tongue over the blood that was welling above the cut to my lip, “We spoke about this.” Was all the explanation I got from Leighton. I nodded and then frowned as Sebastian handed me a glass of water. I took it and drank down a few drops, using it to wash the cut to my lip. I knew it’d swell and continue bleeding. It had be sliced my the huge ass rings Leighton used. But I shook my head, “I’m not disagreeing with you to be a dick, sweetheart. I am trying to give you both what you want, look….” I stepped up to the map that Sebastian had on his wall, the anger from my nickname flaring through Leighton even as I moved away to study the map. I ran my finger lightly over it and then located what I wanted, though I had no idea where the thought had come from, “Ok, so you want safe and secluded, you want somewhere easily reachable for them to start learning their place. They’ll need somewhere away from everything to fuck, since they’re not like Sebastian here.” I heard the growl and I had no idea why I was provoking either one of them, but I hoped it would mean their minds weren’t entirely on the job and they’ve give me what I wanted, “Look, this here, the land of Paras. It offers all that. It’s within a days travel, easily. Myself and Sky will go with them, and you can summon me home in seconds with the powers I got from my father. You also know with what I learned from my mother’s side, I can see strategy when I see it.” I turned and then stepped back as Leighton pressed the tip of a knife under my throat. I tipped my chin as the metal bit into my skin. She was pissed, and rightfully so, but as I let my gaze drift to Sebastian he just smiled and reached out to use his talons to lower Leighton’s wrist. “He’s right, it’s a good plan and one that suits us all. I control enough of the land there that it’ll be easy to ensure they are working on that heir that we need and want.” I nodded and handed the glass back to Sebastian, thankful I hadn’t dropped it. I moved past them both so I could grab my shirt before Leighton got to it and tugged it on. They were whispering in the corner, and I stood quietly as I waited. After a minute Leighton smiled and then started for the door, she let her fingers trail along my lower back on her way out, inching up under the hem of my shirt even as I stiffened, “See you later Landyn, enjoy the rest of your day.” The way she said it had me frowning, and I turned my attention back to Sebastian, “We set a date yet?” He nodded and stepped up close. The door closing barely registered until he was in my face. I could see the amusement from earlier had bled from his eyes, and I swallowed thickly. “You wanna tell me so I can get back to bed?” He nodded and reached an arm around my waist, those fucking talons digging into the wound on my back until I felt it open up again. I winced but otherwise didn’t show any kind of discomfort to the move. Asshole wasn’t getting that. He moved with me stepping backwards to each of his forward steps. Oh how I wished I was free to kill the bastard, he’d have been dead before he even heard me arrive. I was sure he could see that thought in my eyes, because the humour returned for a moment, “Wishing you weren’t having to bow to my every need Landyn? Call me sir and do exactly as I ask when I ask, regardless of what my son might say or do about it?” He smirked widely and I nodded slightly, no point lying about it. He was pissing me off, and my back was screaming. Each shift of muscle caused more damage. When my back hit the wall I hissed and then straightened and went stiff as Sebastian leaned in and whispered in my ear. I felt the blood rush from my face, and it took everything I had not to throw up right then and there. Sebastian chuckled and then stepped backwards again, leaving me room to escape. I didn’t do more than growl at him before I rushed past him. Throwing open the doors to his office and legging it back down the hall to my room. I could see Leighton with some of the guards whispering and laughing, but I had to get inside and figure out what the point of all this was. I made it to my room in record time, not even bothering to check to see if Cooper was back yet, I trusted him. I skidded to a stop and fumbled with the key before I managed to get the door to unlock. I slammed it shut behind me and quickly made my way to the bag I had stashed under the bed. I tugged out a length of rope, some chains and leather cuffs. My breathing was so hard I was sure I could see stars dancing around the edges of it. I tried to calm myself while also working out how best to tie myself to the bed for the rest of the night and following day. I had just over 24 hours to get myself better before Cooper was to be married, and he’d need me by his side. #DrugofChoice

[batwake]

i might be dreaming (i might be dead)

[stanathieluris]

Just What I Needed

or, as i’ve been referring to it in my head, The Concert Fic

summary: Eddie has been studying abroad one year in France. When he gets back, he’s greeted by his beloved friends and some unfinished business. 

pairings: reddie, side stenbrough

warnings: characters are aged up (19), underage drinking.

notes: i know i say this in all my fics but english is not my first language so yea, please be nice. likes/reblogs/comments/feedback is very much apreciated! also, this is my first time attempting to write a multichaptered fic so idk how this is gonna turn out

spotify playlist w some songs i guess that inspired me to write this??

“Remind me again why am I here”.

The music is loud, the air thick with the smell of sweat, there are way too many people breaking into his personal space, and worst of all, the floor is extremely sticky. Eddie can’t help to bounce on the balls of his feet nervously, afraid that, if he stays still, his nikes will get stuck on the spot forever. The place is called The Sewers and honestly, Eddie couldn’t have come up with a better fitting name.

Stan smirks at him “I told you, to catch up and stuff!” he exclaims, putting his arm over Eddie’s shoulders.

“We could’ve done this in a nice cafe” the short boy huffs “where everything is quiet and nice and, you know, fucking clean”.

“Hey, don’t diss the bar” his friend laughs. Eddie wants to do more than diss the bar. He wants to bring all the disinfectant he owns, bleach and clean the place from floor to ceiling. But he has to restrain himself.

“Anyway, why did we come here? It doesn’t look like your kind of scene” Eddie asks, eyeing the sea of punks, mods and goths that surrounded them. Eddie stares at their creative outfits and hairstyles, and compares them with Stan’s turtle neck, pressed pants and polished shoes. He looks like an outsider to the place.

“Eh, I’m kind of a regular here now” he shrugs. “Plus, there’s a free concert and the band is kind of good”.

Eddie hasn’t seen Stan in over a year, and while it’s true that they messaged from time to time and exchanged emails monthly, he sure feels like they’ve fallen out of touch. Although he still has the same mop of curly hair (just a bit longer) and keeps making those deadpan serious comments that leave you double guessing if he is joking or not, there’s no way to deny that Stan has changed. Is not only the way he dresses, more elegantly and fashionable (finally ditching the khakis and pressed shirts), but also on the way he puts himself out, more relaxed and laid back, less tense, as if in the past year he had dropped a huge weight off his shoulders that he had been carrying around for his whole life. Eddie knew he was going to miss a lot from his friends lives while he was away, but he is starting to realize just how much ‘a lot’ can be.

“When is Bill getting here?” Eddie asks.

“Give it, ten minutes? Fifteen max” Stan answers while checking his wristwatch “Do you want to order something while we wait on him?”.

The sole thought of touching anything of this bar with his hands, much less with his mouth, nauseates Eddie, but it’s either that or being sober and hyper aware of all the stains and nasty smells that surround him, and suddenly being at least tipsy doesn’t sound that bad.

“Lead the way Uris”.

They make their way to the bar, swimming between the tight pack of people around them. When they reach it, Stan calls a very big and menacing bartender that greets him with a smile and wonders if he will have the usual. He also asks him where did he leave his boy, and Stan blushes.

“What did he mean by ‘your boy’?” Eddie asks when the bartender is gone.

“Well…” the blush on Stan’s cheeks deepens, reaching his ears and he gets this sheepish smile that makes Eddie connect the dots.

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” he gasps “Don’t tell me that it finally happened”.

Before Stan can answer, someone ruffles his hair.

“Would you look at that! Eddie Kaspbrak in the flesh!”.

Eddie turns around to see not only Bill, but Bev with him.

“Guys!” he exclaims, hugging both of them at the same time, sloppily and almost tripping. He can’t help it. He has missed his friends.

“Holy shit I’d forgotten how tiny you were Eddie.” Bev laughs, drawing her arms around his shoulders “Your hugs were always the best”.

“You’ve gotten soft Marsh” Eddie laughs.

“W-We missed you a luh-lot” Bill says, smiling wide.

“I’ve missed you guys too” he holds them a bit tighter.

“Okay guys, cut it out, we are going to get too emotional” Stanley jokes.

They let got of the group hug and Eddie gets a better look at them. Bill is looking at him with a spark on his eyes that he hadn’t seen before, and a wide smile on his face. He seems more confident, more grounded, and Eddie can tell that from his stance to the reassured smirk on his face.

“What the fuck Denborough? You pierced your ears?” he exclaims when he notices the two small hoops on his left ear.

Bill laughs out loud “Damn, you should s-see Bev’s collection”.

Like on cue, the girl shows off not only her wide collection of piercings in various places of her ears and face (that septum nose ring suits her like hell), but sticks her tongue at Eddie, almost making him faint.

“Oooh my goood Bev, do you know what could happen to you if that shit would get infected?” he babbles while giving a pointed look to the small silver ball that pierces Bev’s tongue, earning a good laughter from his friends.

“Man I really missed your nagging Eddie” she hugs him again and even though the small boy wants to lecture her a bit more, he smiles.

“I’ve missed you all too” he whispers, pretty sure that Bev is the only one able to hear him.

“So, how was France?” Stan asks, a sly smile on his face.

“Amazing holy shit” Eddie blabbers, letting go of Bev “like, Europe? On a whole other level, I’m not kidding you guys”.

“Wuh-Well, it’s very different from D-Derry” Bill smiles at his best friend’s energy.

“Did you had escargots?” Bev asked.

Eddie shivers “No, no, no, no, no, no. We don’t mention escargots” his friends laugh at his disgusted face.

“Are boys as pretty as they look in movies?” Stan then interjects, winking at Bill, who just smiles back. Eddie makes a mental note to interrogate his best friend about whatever thing is happening between him and Stan.

“Like straight out of a dream” he sighs dreamily “They were all full lips, soft skin, sharp jaws and perfectly combed curls”.

“What the fuck happened to you and when did you become such a poet!” Bev exclaims, ruffling once again his hair. He has missed the affectionate gesture “And you say I have turned soft”.

“Hey! I’ve always been soft” he complains.

Stan scoffed “Yeah right, because I was the one who put Greta and her asshole friends in their place back in sixth grade”.

“Or when yuh-you r-ranted like a ruh-rabid dog to th-those mean kids that made fun of my stutter in f-freshman year” Bill added.

“Or when you almost got into that fight with the cheer squad for making fun of Ben” Bev smiled.

“Or when-”

“Okay, okay! I get it!” he exclaims, feeling himself turn red.

“Admit it Kaspbrak, you’ve always been a feisty little punk” Stan teases him. Eddie rolls his eyes and takes another sip from his drink.

“Talking about Ben, where is he?” Eddie asks turning to Bev.

“He should be joining us any second” she answers, checking her phone “Yup, he just texted me he’s almost here! And Mike is coming with him too”.

“Awesome!” Stan exclaims “The losers back together, this is amazing”.

“S-softie”.

“Shut up Bill”.

Eddie wants to jump into the comfortable banter his friends have fallen into, but he can’t help but think about Stan has said

The losers back together

Yeah, almost all of them.

One year ago

He checks his luggage for the hundredth time, making sure that he has his passport, plane ticket and student visa with him. His hands are shaking, and he can feel his whole body vibrate. Bill helps him taking all his suitcases down to the dorm’s driveway, where Mike is waiting for them. In silence, they all pack Eddie’s belongings into the car’s trunk.

The trip to the airport is awkward and silent. Eddie doesn’t stop looking out the window, taking in all the sights of Derry (and Maine), the ones he’s gonna miss for a whole year. Bill puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes it reassuringly. He smiles at his friend, lifting the gaze from the landscape. There’s nothing left to say, they have spilled all the unsaid things the night before, the only night ever Sonia Kaspbrak has let his son invite over his best friend for a sleep over.

When they arrive to the airport, it’s like everything hits Eddie all of a sudden. He steps out of the car and starts crying, tripping and almost falling if it wasn’t for Mike, ready to catch him. They stay a couple of minutes like that, the muscular boy holding the sobbing mess Eddie has turned into while Bill picks all the bags by himself. When Eddie seems to calm down (and takes a puff of his inhaler) they go inside.

Bev has really outdone herself this time. The banner reads “GOODBYE EDDIE” with pastel colours and glitter and stars surrounding them. The paper looks cheap and the letters are crooked, but Eddie thinks it’s the most beautiful thing his friend has ever painted. Next to her are the rest of the losers, smiling widely and on the verge of tears. 

The first one to break from the group is Ben, who tells him how much he is going to miss him, how biology is going to stink without him to make fun of Mr King’s crooked glasses, and that he should check the Sorbonne library because the place is straight out of a dream. Eddie promises him to do so, that he will check every single book and sneak him some pictures, choking back the tears, thanking him for being such an amazing friend. 

The next one is Stan, who hugs him so tightly, Eddie is scared he might lose his breath. He feels his friend tremble and it just hits him so hard, because he has never seen Stan cry, let alone so intensely. He tells Eddie to enjoy France, and Eddie whispers back that he is going to miss his late night text conversations about boys and films and what are they going to do with their lives when they leave together this godforsaken town. When he pulls back, Stan smiles down on him, red-cheeked and bright-eyed.

Bev comes crashing on him, and there are a lot of “i love you”s, snarky comments between tears, hair ruffling and the moment Eddie tells her to “make sure none of them get into trouble or whatever fuck up”, she just places a hand on his cheek, tears rolling down her eyes and nods, muttering a simple, yet full of feeling, bye.

And finally, Richie.

The boy is shaking and it shows, all color drained from his face. Eddie is scared that he might throw up. He can feel all the losers shuffling away from them, which only makes the situation even more awkward. He tries to make eye contact with the trashmouth, but the boy has his eyes locked on the floor. Eddie’s debating whether or not say something, but before he opens his mouth, Richie pulls him into a soft embrace. Eddie pactrically buries his head on the other boys chest and he can feel Richie dropping his face onto his hair, soft lips against chocolate curls.

“Don’t forget about me. About us” he mutters in a raspy voice, quickly adding the last part. Eddie feels himself sob, tears staining Richies shirt.

“I won't” he manages “I promise I won't”.

They pull apart just a couple of inches, and with a swift movement, Richie lifts gently Eddie’s face by the chin, locking eyes with him. They stay like that for a long moment, faces close, eyes locked, tears falling silently. If they wanted, they could kiss.

But they just linger close, no contact whatsoever.

Eddie’s mind always wanders back to that day, especially to that moment in particular. He can’t help it. It’s one of the biggest what ifs of his life. And for the looks of it, it’s going to stay a mystery forever if the trashmouth was going to kiss him or not.

He really doesn’t want to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but he needs to know .

“What about Richie?” the question slips his lips before he can shut his mouth.

“What about him?” Bev asks, arching a brow at him.

“Is he coming with Ben and Mike too?” he shoots back, trying to sound as non-chalant as possible. Oh god, could his stomach, please tone it down with the nerves?

“Kind o-” to this day, Eddie doesn’t know what Bev was going to say, because she gets interrupted by a wolf-whistle and a high-pitched noise of static coming from the stage.

“Okay, okay people” a voice booms through the mic, and Eddie spots the big guy from the bar in the stage “now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Live tonight at The Sewers for another iconic night, please welcome Trashmouth and the Losers!”.

The noise from the audience is deafening, as three figures rush onto the stage. Eddie stares wide eyed from his spot, and he can’t help but feel that he is going to pass out. Because, right there, in the flesh, in all his beautiful glory, followed by Mike and Ben, is Richie Tozier.

He turns his eyes from the stage to his friends, who try to fight the laughter cause by his mortified expression.

“Surprise” Stan laughs, winking at him.

taglist: @turtleneckrichie @richietoaster @mikexelevenfluff @thecastlebyers @kleinmansbathbombs 

[mylovingbouquetearthquakewo-blog]

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Does my contractors liability insurance cover roofing subs?

How much would insurance be per month for a 17 year old driving a 2014 Mazda 3?

I am 17 years old and just graduated high school. I will be 18 in 5 months. I am looking into buying myself a new car. I know all of the responsibilities that comes along with buying a new car and talked to my parents about it. I did my research and I found that a new 2014 Mazda 3 is only $200 a month. Which I can afford. However, I was wondering how much insurance would be. I looked up a few quotes but I'm not sure how accurate they are. I was wondering how much other people were paying. Of course age is taken into consideration so it will be higher. However, if it will be too much I am planing on going under my fathers name since he is much older and clearly has more experience. So if anyone would like to help me out and tell me what they pay for insurance it would be very helpful! Thanks!""

Do you get cheaper car insurance for being married (uk)?

Do you get cheaper car insurance for being married (uk)?

No car insurance and got into an accident.?

I recently got in a car accident with no insurance. I rear ended someone and totalled his old car. The police came and made a police report and did not question me on wether I had insurace or not. If I bought Insurance right after that, can i use it to file a claim for what happened? If the other guy would cooperate and say we crashed at a later time would that work?""

""I have asthma and lost my insurance, help?

I live with my family an was fully covered on their MEDICAL. Recently I was put on share of cost and cant afford the deductable but I have asthma and can hardly walk a few blocks ...show more

How much is this car worth to sell this car to the insurance.?

It is a 2005 Toyota Corolla CE with a salvage title. It has 76000 miles just body damages. Thanks in advance

What kind of new car is the cheapest to insure ?

I currently drive a leased 2011 Hyundai Santa Fe SUV. The full coverage insurance on this car is now $113.00 per month. Last year it was $108.00 per month. I will be in the market for a new leased vehicles soon and I want to know what cars or SUV are the cheapest to insure. Any websites I can look at ?

Is there anyone who insures motorcycles just for theft? dont need other coverage...?

Hey I have my 08 r6 being insured for 166 every 6 months but it doesnt cover theft. I got various quotes and nobody will do theft without doing full coverage. the difference is literally 10 times the cost. They want $320 a year without but with full coverage (aka theft) it is $3200 which is absolutely ridiculous. I was wondering if there was any insurance agencies out there who offer bike insurance (being only theft insurance)

Is there any car Insurance company that doesn't charge interest?

I have heard that insurance companies charge interest if you decide to pay your car insurance monthly, but is there any insurance company that doesn't.""

My employer expects me to utilize my personal car insurance for renting cars for business purposes.?

Why should I carry the responsibility? My car insurance would go up if I am in an accident or the car is stolen. Am I being unreasonable? There is no coverage through my company AMEX card, I checked. I do not want to be a problem employee but I do not see how this is fair.""

Should I get life insurance for my children (13 yrs & 8 yrs. old) ???

If yes, Do you know of any trusting life insurance companies that are affordable ?""

Motorcycle insurance for a teenager?

I will be 19 in November and I want to get a Ninja 250R. I guess around a 2002, a starter bike. I was wondering (guess) how much it would cost.""

""Going to LA for week, how much does it cost to rent a car?""

I don't want anything too fancy but nothing crap if you know what I mean....just a decent car that will do me for a week. I know insurance will be a killer especially as I am under 25, but my boyfriend is 27 so if we put it in his name will it make it any cheaper? Oh and if anyone knows a good company to rent from, please let me know.....will it be best to go straight to the rental place that's in the airport? Thanks!""

""I damaged my car, i got a quote off the garage, and the insurance said they will pay,?""

so i let the garage send a quote and the insurance said i can leave my car in, but now i have found another garage nearer to my house and he will match the quote, plus repair it at weekend , so i dont need the car. can i change to this garage .. i live in Ireland thanks""

Insurance for 18 year old girl?

My daughters just passed her test would i be as much money having her on my own car insurance as she would be if she had her own car and was the main driver thanks in advance for any answers

""Looking for auto insurance, do I need to report an accident?

I was driving a friend's car and was involved in an accident. I was not at fault and no ticket was issued. My friend's insurance paid for the damage on the other car. Do I need to report this accident while shopping for car insurance or can I leave it out? I live in California and was required to report the accident to the DMV even though I was not at fault.

""My dad is the main driver on vehicle insurance, and i am the named, am i aloud to drive the car more than him?""

Ive just passed my test and looking for cheap ways to get cheaper insurance. Can i do it so my dad is the main driver and im the named, but i will be using the car much more than him? is this illegal? The car is in his name and everything but didnt no whether he has to cover more miles than me in a year with it being in his name? thanks""

I was in a car accident with no insurance.?

It was a minor accident no injuries and my insurance ran out 3 days before the accident, i have got insurance again but The person I was in an accident with is taking me to court to try and get $2800 for the damages. Now I know his vehicle is not worth more than $1000. Could that mean that I can pay the price that the car books for and then he will have to give me the title, like insurance companies do?""

Car financed by me with co-signer. Co-signer pays insurance?

I'm planning on purchasing a car with the help of my dad co-signing, since he has established credit. Can my father pay for the auto insurance (it'll be cheaper), while I own the car? In other words, can I get the car registered under my name with the auto insurance under his? Reason for this is to help me establish my credit also. Or should I forget all the idea and just have my father's name under everything?""

How much would it be to insure my first car?

I'm looking at getting a Vauxhall Corsa, a couple of years old. How much do you think I'm looking at in insurance? Also, has anyone done passplus and found it saves them alot on there insurance?""

""Live with father, father borrowed and wrecked my car. He's not on my insurance.?""

Will I still be able to make a claim if I have my own insurance, he's not on my insurance, and we live together. I know there is some sort of household rule, but is that just for having kids? What if he's my dad? Will I still be able to make a claim if we live in the same household, and he's not on my insurance? I'm 21, own the car myself, and the insurance myself, basically renting a room but can't prove it. He's only insured with his business car.""

How much would car insurance be for this person?

for a girl 16 years old, doesnt own a car in the state of NJ. any more info ill be glad to help. im asking because i want to know about how much it will cost will different insurances for me alone.""

How much a month for loan and insurance for a 350z?

Ok so I'm gonna be 20 in a couple months and I'm tired of driving my crappy integra. I've been saving up and I'm set on getting a 350z. My price range is about 12,000 tops. If I put a down payment of about 5 or 6 grand how much would I pay per month for the loan. And how much would I pay a month for the loan along with the insurance. I'm on my parents plan. I don't know much about interest rates. Can you give me estimates on different lengths of loans and interest rates Thanks ily""

Will having a hidden kill switch in my car make insurance cheaper?

So basically, noone will be able to start the car unless they know where the switch is hidden. Surely this increases the security of the car, therefore should make insurance cheaper.""

Car insurance?

im trying to look for a cheap car insurance company any ideas??

Can my mom insure my vehicle?

I want to buy a newly used car and i will have a loan on it. I wanted to know if the loan and the title are all in my name, would my mom be able to insure it in her name and me just as a driver? im under 25 so my insurance would be extra high. and would i have to register it in her name at DMV to let her insure it?""

Does my contractors liability insurance cover roofing subs?

Does my contractors liability insurance cover roofing subs?

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