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raybyanothername · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: RWBY Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Winter Schnee Characters: Raven Branwen, Qrow Branwen, Winter Schnee Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Domestic, POV Outsider, Ship Wrecked Fanzine 2020 Summary:

Dove Branwen is dominating the illegal fighting rings of Mantle with a bird grim mask and hair the color of snow. Raven gave zero cares about her hair or her mask.… Raven cared that someone was using her name. Someone - probably Qrow - had a lot to answer for.

Written for the Ship Wrecked Fanzine, a multi-ship Qrow fanzine. @shipwreckedfanzine

This is also the perfect time to announce that I got a ko-fi account: https://ko-fi.com/raybyanothername ! So if you like this fic, feel free to buy my a coffee!

The Bird of Peace

The fighting rings of Mantle were renovated industrial complexes. The term 'renovated' being used very generously.

Raven sipped her drink, swirled the red liquid in her glass. She stood, sword at her hip, on a rusted loft space that served as something of a VIP area. Her eyes watched the ring on the floor below as two supposed fighters beat and grapple until the man beside her laughed. As the sound echoed off the metal walls a knife was thrown into the ring and soon the fight was over.

"I must say," Raven turned to look at her benefactor - the great organizer himself, Cellus - with narrowed eyes, "This is far less exciting than you had led me to believe."

"Just the pre-show," Cellus grinned. A scar on his cheek pulled and twisted as his lips spread wide. "The final event is just beginning."

The ring was cleared and a man in an obnoxious and ill-fitting suit stepped to the center. "And now!" The man's voice boomed. "For the fight we've all been waiting for!"

The crowds on the floor below began to cheer. The noise rose to deafening heights. If she didn't know the authorities had been paid off, Raven might be a tad worried about having to skip out early.

"The challenger - the dastardly devil himself - Deven the Guard!" The room filled with boos as a man with an Atlesian uniform stepped into the ring. The helmet hid his face, but the man was otherwise far too large for the garments. They were ripped, torn, and stained. She had no doubts to how he had acquired the items.

Deven played his part. He saluted Cellus and wagged his finger at the crowd. It earned him laughs, but not cheers.

"And the champion!" The crowd was already roaring. "The fallen huntress herself!" Raven's ears perked up. She straightened slightly, her eyes focusing on the spotlight where the fighter would appear. "Do-ove Bra-anwen!"

Raven tensed as the snow white figure stepped into the spotlight. The yellow glow gave her color, but she was dressed in white from the grimm mask - a Nevermore - to the boots on her feet. Silver war scythes hung on either side of her hips and Raven counted three silver rings on her right hand and one on her left. Even her damn hair was white.

"Ah," Cellus stepped up beside her. His hand ghosted over her lower back, "Now you see why I invited you."

"And I thought it was just your desire to expand into Mistral," Raven looked over her shoulder at him, baring her teeth. He stepped away, hands raised.

Cellus chuckled, "Who says a man can't have multiple reasons for inviting a beautiful and deadly woman into his home?" He swept his arms down. He smiled again, scar twisting. Raven's lips twitched.

"Well, I'm certainly curious."

-.-.-

Dove 'Branwen' won her fight, quick and bloody. Her challenger would live, but he certainly wouldn't be fighting anytime soon.

The woman was precise in her every move. Her weapons worked in tandem with her graceful movements to make Dove seem like a whirlwind of blades and aura.

"At least she's not sullying the name as well as stealing it." Raven twirled a knife in her hand as she walked through her camp. The tents were far from quiet. She'd taken three men with her to Mantle and the story had spread like wildfire when they'd returned.

A scythe-wielding Branwen who fought like a demon and looked like an angel. It was the stuff fairytales were based on.

"I hate fairytales." Raven fisted her hand around the hilt of the blade. She sliced down through the space beside her. A portal split open. "But I know which bird does."

-.-.-

Raven found her brother exactly where she expected to find him: asleep, probably hungover, and sprawled out on a bed. By the noise outside his door, he'd paid for a room at a tavern. The accents told her Vacuo. That explained the dust and the taste of sand in her mouth.

"Whaddya want Rae?" Qrow croaked. He didn't open his eyes as Raven took three steps closer to his bed.

"Someone in Mantle is using our last name." Raven began to walk at the foot of the bed, back and forth, three steps each way. She took them slowly, back straight, and chin high, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?"

Qrow's lips twitched before he rolled onto his side, "Nah." Raven narrowed her eyes. "Poor bastard must be unlucky, for you to stumble upon him all the way in Mantle."

"Her." Raven bit out. Qrow's shoulder tensed for a brief second before he caught himself. Raven leaned over him, fisting a hand in Qrow's shirt, "You know her."

"I don't, I -" Qrow glowered before Raven cut him off with a shake.

"It wasn't a question." Raven seethed through her teeth.

Qrow's face was stone. He clamped his mouth shut and kept it shut, no matter how hard she shook him. If she weren't so…weak…Raven would kill him for his lies, but baby brothers are like lice - they infested your heart and killing them meant subjecting yourself to a great deal of discomfort or pain.

It was his eyes that she had a hard time with - they were the only eyes that had never looked at her in fear and that, unfortunately, meant something to her.

That was how she figured it out though. His eyes. They shook.

"Tell me, Qrow…" Raven leaned closer. Her nose nearly touching his. "Does she have a right to use our name?" His face stayed stiff, but his eyes shifted. "Or, more specifically, your name?"

This time, he flinched. Raven stepped back, smirking. Qrow groaned, "Leave her be, Rae. Please?"

"Of course." Raven shrugged. Her eyes locked on Qrow, "After I meet her." Qrow's jaw clicked as he clenched it tight. "I have to make sure she's good enough for you, after all."

Raven sliced through the air again. She stepped through, laughter on her lips as Qrow lunged after her. One hand reflexively reached for Harbinger as he jumped from the bed. That was lucky.

Qrow disliked traveling through Raven's portals. There was a gooey sensation at the point of entry and he had a hard time keeping his balance on the way out. He stumbled over his own feet as he came through this time.

"Still clumsy I see," Raven caught him by the shoulder. She'd stopped laughing. Qrow looked around at the glistening streets of Atlas and then back at her now scowling face. "Who, exactly, is this woman again?"

Qrow huffed, "That's none of your business." He hooked Harbinger over his back and crossed his arms.

Raven turned on the balls of her feet, scanning the block. It was apartment buildings and little shopettes that only someone with more money than sense would shop in. It was night, so all of those people were asleep right now.

"Why don't you just head back to Mistral?" Qrow snarked. There was a hint of a growl in his voice. "Ya know, where you actually want to be." There was no reason for her to respond, so Raven started walking. Towards the nearest apartment building. Qrow followed close at her heels.

"She's here then," Raven smirked as she yanked open the door. There was a lobby, but no concierge. "A woman who appreciates privacy." She kept walking.

Raven judged her steps by Qrow's reaction to them. Forward when he stepped closer, back when he gave her more breathing room. He was nervous, on edge. It made him easy to read. His fingers kept twitching towards his flask.

"Go ahead, drink," Raven shrugged as she started climbing stairs. "It's impossible for me to think any less of you anyway."

Qrow's hands fisted. Then he forced them open, shaking them out. "I don't drink anymore."

"Oh." Raven stopped and turned around. Qrow stood three steps below her. "Well then. I suppose now I could think less of you."

"Did you just… compliment me?" Qrow narrowed his eyes, chuckling. Raven scoffed and turned back around to keep climbing. The higher they climbed the more ansty Qrow grew. He hadn't yet tried to stop her though, and Raven knew he would if he were actually concerned.

"She's a decent fighter." Raven ventured. "Your girl. This Dove." Qrow grinned behind her, snickered. "What?"

"Decent, Rae? Come on." Qrow chuckled, arms crossed behind his head, "She's one of the best damn huntresses I've ever fought, you included."

Raven rolled her shoulders back, "The announcer called her a 'fallen huntress?'" She looked over her shoulder at Qrow. He bit his lip, arms falling back to his sides.

"She was only a huntress for a year." Qrow slipped his hands into his pocket. "She was a specialist before that." Raven froze. Her lips pursed. Qrow grabbed her arms. "Don't hold it against her. I gave her enough hell for it back in the day."

"As you wish." Raven shrugged his hand away and stomped the last few steps to the highest floor. Qrow slipped past her with a few long strides and a fancy spin that Tai had taught him back at Beacon.

Qrow stood in front of the door, arms crossed and eyes narrow, "I mean it, Rae. You wanna meet her, fine, but I won't let you hurt her."

The door behind him swung open, "I can take care of myself just fine, Qrow." Raven blinked at the woman standing behind her brother, a sly grin decorating her porcelain face. White hair was loose about her face, light waves curling around her jaw until they stopped abruptly at her shoulder. Eyes the color of ice, and just as hard, stared back at Raven.

"You married a damn Schnee!" Raven shoved Qrow's shoulder with a growl. "Are you kidding me?!"

"Technically, we're not married." Winter shrugged, tilting her head to the side with a smile. Qrow snorted, hands falling down to his sides, and Raven scowled. Winter's eyes did not waver from Raven's.

For all that she looked of porcelain, Raven had seen Winter fight, she knew the woman was more steel and iron. Though… given the stories that had circulated about the Schnee sisters, maybe it was bone, made strong from so many breaks. Raven could respect that.

"Alright then,," Raven raised her chin, eyes narrow, "Let's get to know each other." She took another step up the stairs towards Winter. The only thing separating the two women now was Qrow.

A moment passed, Qrow fidgeting as Winter and Raven stared each other down. And then.… Winter smiled and nodded. "Come inside, Raven, have some tea."

Raven blinked. She looked at Qrow, who shrugged and followed his not-wife as she left the stairwell. Raven did the same. The hallway was clean and carpeted, but not overly luxurious. Seven white doors with tarnished gold letters were all squeezed onto the same floor.

"Not the penthouse I would expect of a Schnee." Raven watched Qrow's shoulders tense, but he remained silent.

Winter clenched her hands together, "It would be best if you not use that name where people could hear." She looked over her shoulder at Raven, eyes hard, "My sister is trying to fix the damage my father has done, but it will be some time before the name will be safe to hold anywhere in Remnant."

"You're afraid?" Raven scoffed as Winter paused in front of the last door. She froze with her hand on the knob.

"Not for me." Winter spoke softly before pushing open the door. Qrow was the first one through and the chirpy squeal that followed told Raven all she needed to know before she even crossed the threshold.

Winter closed the door behind herself. She and Raven stood shoulder to shoulder as Qrow scooped up a small boy in red pajamas who had run headfirst into his chest. A small, stuffed black bird was clutched tightly in one hand even as he wrapped his arms around Qrow's neck. Red eyes shimmered with joy and mischief.

"His name is Wren." Winter spoke, hands clasped behind her back. Raven turned her head. Winter's lips were quirked up, but it was her eyes that Raven found herself staring at. Icy blue, as hard as they had been looking at Raven was how soft they were watching Qrow ruffle dark locks and kiss the ruddy cheeks of his son.

"Mama! Daddy's home!" Wren giggled at Winter as he hooked his chin on Qrow's shoulder. He glanced curiously at Raven, waved with his free hand. Raven’s jaw clenched tight.

"I see that!" Winter's smile widened as she moved to kiss his forehead. Wren squealed again, little arms flailing. Qrow laughed, deep and hearty.

Raven watched the scene before her. A weight settled low in her gut. Wren was a stark reminder of the past. Of several pasts. And watching Qrow and Winter’s heads lean close together, whispering words she could have easily heard if she wanted to… Raven felt like an invader.

Turning her head to looks elsewhere, the rest of the apartment came into focus. The pale blue walls and the comfy couch, the wood tone cabinets in the kitchen along the back wall. Photos and drawings littered the walls. Wren it seemed was both artistic and photogenic.

Or perhaps Winter was just sentimental.

Raven stepped towards a shelf, nestled between two doors. Light snores drifted from one, and the other stood wide open to reveal a small bed covered in more stuffed animals than any child could ever hold at one time. Raven kept her eyes on the shelf.

A picture stuck out to her, tucked into the frame of a larger family portrait. It was a snapshot of Qrow – dark circles, bruises on his neck – holding a bundle of red. Tiny fingers reached upwards. Next to Qrow, leaning on his shoulder, was a sleeping Winter. Her white locks stuck to her forehead with sweat.

The bottom of the photo held a short message: You’ve never looked happier Uncle Qrow! – Y

It was true. Despite the bruises, the blood, and the exhaustion. Qrow’s smile was bigger than Raven had ever seen.

"I'm gonna put him back to bed," Qrow leaned over to kiss Winter's cheek and Raven turned back to face her the little family. Qrow walked past her into the room with the overabundance of stuffed things and closed the door.

"So tell me, Raven," Winter stepped forward, arms tense at her side, "What would you like to know?" Raven raised an eyebrow. The sound of Qrow reading a story, funny voices included, floated in from a bedroom door on their left.

Winter didn't budge and Raven recognized her footing from when the woman had fought in the ring. Raven chuckled, "Nice to know my reputation precedes me." She side stepped Winter and sunk into the couch in the living room.

"I've met your daughter," Winter followed her across the apartment, but she stayed on her feet. She stopped in the kitchen, pulling a kettle from the stove just as it began to whistle. "And I know better than to underestimate a Branwen."

Raven did not flinch at the mention of Yang, but her lips pressed firmly together. She leaned her head into her hand, propping her arm up on the couch. "Qrow said you were a huntress before?" Winter set two cups of tea on the coffee table.

"After leaving the military, yes. A friend of Qrow's, Robyn, she offered me a spot on her team. They're in Vacuo right now, still dealing with the fallout from Salem's attack." Winter’s tone was neutral, but forced.

"Vacuo is where I found Qrow." Raven arched an eyebrow.

Winter shrugged, "I retired. He didn't. I fight for Cellus now, it's decent pay and he's…"

"A complete buffoon." Raven finished Winter's thought. "Especially if you've got a nice figure." She eyed up Winter, even in a breezy robe and slippers the curves the woman had were evident. "Which you've got."

"…oblivious to my true identity." Winter continued without acknowledging Raven's words. "Wren needs stability, as does my brother." The last words came out sharply and Raven swallowed back a growl. Winter finally sat, picking a chair directly opposite Raven's position on the couch. Her posture was perfect.

Qrow returned to the living room to find the two women staring at each other, intensely. Without blinking. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Winter sipped her tea. He sighed.

"Ya know, just once it'd be nice to have a little family unity," Qrow gestured with his hands and Raven snorted. The corner of Winter’s lips twitched. Qrow sat on the arm of Winter's chair. He leaned back, body curling over the back of the chair.

The sight was… disorientating. Qrow, literally wrapped around the stiff and proper figure of Winter Schnee. Even worse was Winter herself. Her posture slackened and she leaned backwards into Qrow’s waiting chest. Her hand moved to his knee as his found her shoulder. The forced neutrality of Winter’s face bled into a peaceful smile.

Raven had never seen her brother so comfortable around another individual. Even around her, he'd always been a little tense, a little skittish. She'd blamed it on his semblance, but here he was - same semblance - lounging like a cat, muscles draped as if his very bones had softened along with Winter’s expression.

"Well, Schnee," Raven sighed, stood, and stretched. Her hands fell to her waist and she watched Winter track her movements with her eyes. "I deem you worthy of my last name, so long as you don't lose any fights."

Winter smirked, "Of course." She bowed her head slightly, little more than a nod. Raven recognized the gesture, the respect. She nodded in kin.

"Do see about making it official," Raven joked as she twirled her dagger out from its hiding space. She slashed through the air, "A proper lady deserves a proper wedding." The portal opened as Winter laughed. "And a bedding." Raven stepped through just as Qrow jolted up from his position, squawking.

The bandits who stopped as Raven walked through the camp didn't ask her where she had been. They did not stop her or comment as she ignored their presence. She simply walked into her tent and slipped a photo from her belt.

In a chest, below piles of clothes and blankets and armor, was a small wooden box. Inside was a dinged up shuriken blade and tattered scraps of paper. Nothing of import or interest. Raven slipped the snapshot she’d swiped from Qrow’s home beneath them all, right over the photo of a purple eyed blonde and her stuffed kitty cat.

-.-.-

If you liked this fic and you’re feeling generous, you can buy me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/raybyanothername

#ray writes #snowbird #rwby #qrow branwen #winter schnee #fanfiction #rwby fanfiction #raven branwen #qrow/winter #qrowin #shipwreckedfanzine

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niffin · 5 years

Photo

watching me is like watching the fire take your eyes from you

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Rating: E

Word count: 2000

CW: Rape/noncon, bondage, humiliation, violence, acephobia

Other tags: Trans Jonathan Sims, blindfold, s3 spoilers

ao3 link

“If you’ll all give me and Jonathan a moment alone, I’m sure we have some things to discuss.”

Jon watches them file out, these colleagues (maybe even friends) who he hasn’t seen in so long, all of them rattled, furious. Outwitted. Unease surges through him as the door shuts and their footsteps fade, but no. Elias doesn’t warrant his fear, and so he drowns it in rage instead, which he does thoroughly deserve. He whirls on Elias, too many recriminations, accusations, competing on his tongue. “So.”

Elias leans on the front of his desk, long fingers lightly curled around the edge, a faint smile on his sharp, arrogant face. Jon does not consider himself a violent person but he wants to slap that smile off his face. The smile grows. “Come on, Jon, there’s really no need for the scowl -”

“What do you want?” Naturally what actually comes out of his mouth is a question. He wonders if Elias will shrug this one off too, but he answers readily.

“Honestly? To offer some congratulations. You’re doing much better than I expected.” Oh. Jon blinks in surprise, the scowl dropping. Enough people have tried to kill him in the past weeks that a compliment throws him off balance. He pulls his hostility back up but it doesn’t come as easily this time.

“Feels like all I’ve managed to do is…” Elias pushes off the desk towards him, and Jon takes a step back before arresting the motion. Elias killed Gertrude and Leitner, blackmailed Daisy and Basira, but he surely wouldn’t hurt the creature he’s molding Jon into. He finishes his sentence, heart pounding, as Elias halts in front of him. “Not die.”

“And believe me, that is a remarkably rare skill.” Elias’ hand shoots out, drags Jon’s burned hand closer to inspect it. Jon intends to yank it away, but doesn’t. Looks at Elias looking at his burned hand, the raised striations on brown skin, the paler whorls where Jude Perry’s fingerprints remain, and remembers how he couldn’t help but witness his own torture with eyes wide open. Elias’ undivided attention heightens something restless inside him, and he Knows Elias is watching his memory. Elias knows that he knows. The recursion unsettles him as much as the fact that he hasn’t let go.

“Yes, that was a close call, wasn’t it?” Elias is looking at his face now, far too close, expression severe. Jon tries to break his grip, and fails. The fear rekindles, lighting up his nerves and propelling everything into sharp focus.

Elias moves far too fast, grabbing and slamming him into the wall, arm twisted up behind his back. Jon is painfully present in this moment. The impact against the wall knocks all the air from his lungs. Minute cracks in the wood paneling varnish rub against his cheek and jaw. His shoulder blade creaks with the strain, his fingers going numb with interrupted blood flow. Elias presses warm against his back, his legs. Jon knows what’s laying firm against his hip, what Elias’ heated, quickening breath on his neck means. He wants to push away from the wall but it’d put more of them in contact and he can’t. He can’t let that happen. He gasps desperately, “Why?” He throws as much force behind it as he can, trembling with the effort as the static leaves his tongue.

At that Elias sighs, hips grinding slow against him. Jon makes a low tight sound in his throat. “Because it is your duty to observe and experience. Everything you chronicle in that mind of yours fuels you, and our master.”

The anger sparks again at that and he seizes onto it, shoves his free hand against Elias’ hip to no avail. “I never wanted that!” He’s never wanted this, even with the very few people he loved enough to try for. Couldn’t make himself want them. For so many reasons.

Elias works his hand into the curls at the nape of Jon’s neck and tugs his head back to make eye contact. There’s plain arousal on his face. “You chose this path in every way that matters. Despite what you think you wanted. Do you really think this is any different?”

They stare at each other for a long moment. Elias seems to know the second Jon decides this really is different, and interrupts his attempt to stomp on his instep by yanking his arm up even higher, forcing Jon onto his toes. Fabric rustles behind him, and as he cranes his head to look, soft silk wraps around his eyes and throws him into darkness. This, more than anything else Elias has done, terrifies him.

“No - Elias!” He thinks he can’t breathe - he doesn’t understand how that can be when all it really is is a blindfold. But matters have meanings on more than one level of reality now, and despite how he tries to convince himself otherwise he feels like he may be dying. In his paralyzing fear, he is only dimly aware of Elias removing Jon’s own belt to cinch around his wrists, letting him slump back against his body.

“Jonathan, I fear for your safety if this is enough to incapacitate you.” The irony manages to penetrate his bone deep horror, but Jon can’t summon a laugh. “We belong to the Watcher, but there’s more than one way to Know, and you need to learn them if you’re to survive.”

Elias half carries Jon, whose muscles won’t cooperate, and pushes him onto his back on what Jon presumes is his desk. The edge of it cuts into his bound hands and the fresh pain grounds him just a bit, enough to realize Elias is between his legs and his shirt is being unbuttoned. He thinks about why he’s only ever trusted one other person to do that. He hates how dazed he sounds when he says, “Elias, wait -”

“I knew about this the day you signed your employment contract.” He runs a fingertip over Jon’s chest, tracing his top surgery scars, and Jon shudders in shock. “It changes nothing; you have been, and will remain, my Archivist. I do want this to be instructive, but honestly, Jon? I’ve simply decided not to wait any longer for what I want.”

Jon tries to Know, he really does. But his disoriented mind sifts out individual sensations to focus on, analyze, and won’t assemble them into a coherent whole. Elias mouths at the bruises on his neck, scorching breath and wet tongue. Teeth sink into the tender skin over Jon’s collarbone and he wonders if they’re leaving marks on the bone itself. Ruthless hands roam over his heaving chest, and when their nails scrape over his scars and ribs they leave trails of prickling fire. His tears dampen the silk over his eyes, making it itch against his cheekbones and nose.

“You’re avoiding this, Archivist.” Elias’ voice comes from right beside his ear and Jon’s hearing suddenly slots back into place. He’s been whimpering, tiny stifled sobs and heaving gasps. He turns his head away, stuttering choked denials. How could he be avoiding anything when he can’t escape?

A sigh. Then Elias tugs Jon’s trousers down, kisses him hard, and drowns him in… himself, all at once. So that’s what arousal feels like, for Elias anyway. Liquid heat pours into him from where their bodies are pressed together but it’s dizzying to simultaneously be in his cold numb bones and Elias’ flesh, both of them aching, and he can’t tell where his skin ends and Elias’ begins.

Elias recedes, but witnessing the totality of him bleeds any remaining energy from Jon. There’s nothing now but darkness, blistering physical awareness of his wholly exposed body, and something he’s sure Elias left behind - an unfamiliar discomfort pooled low in his gut, between his legs. He whines and arches his back, unsure how to assuage the feeling.

Elias takes advantage to slide his hands under Jon’s back and drag him closer. His fabric-covered erection bangs into Jon at the precise spot that sends that feeling bursting through his body. Jon moans. Realizes what he’s feeling.

“I’ve rarely seen anyone quite so determined to ignore the things he doesn’t want to acknowledge about himself.” Elias shifts against him, keeping the flare of pleasure from dying, and leans down to gently brush Jon’s sweat dampened hair off his forehead. “Don’t forget - I want to make this edifying for you.”

Jon shakes his head, eyes wide and uselessly straining behind the blindfold. “Don’t. Something else, not this. Please -”

A kiss where the tears drip off his jaw. One hand pushes his legs open. The other trails fingertips up the inside of his thigh.

“No, don’t touch - it’s not right - Elias!”

He presses his thumb against Jon’s cock and Jon jolts upward. There might have been a thrill there if it wasn’t too much, too wrong. It strokes again and tears a despairing cry from Jon. No one hears it except for him, Elias, and the Ceaseless Watcher. If he can’t stop them from witnessing him suffer then at least -

Don’t make me like it.

Elias inhales sharply and his hands clench tight. “Oh. That was perfect, Jonathan. My magnificent Archivist -”

Then he shoves into Jon’s cunt. It’s slow going - Jon wasn’t even close to being wet with that meager foreplay (he hates that word but he liked it, so it applies, doesn’t it). There’s just Elias’ cock filling him far past his breaking point, ripping him apart, then withdrawing and taking pieces of him with it. And again. Elias croons praise as he fucks Jon, but it doesn’t begin to make up for the contamination his hands and mouth leave on Jon’s body, inside it. He counts time by his shaking sobs, wavering cries. He is so very aware of all of it happening, all over, and again.

Elias kisses his temple, tells him he’s close, punctuates it with a particularly cruel thrust. Jon finally remembers what the biological goal of sex is and a vise closes around his heart. Surely he’s safe - he’d had surgery, but - Jon arches, pushing against Elias, hands wrenching futilely in their bindings, moaning please. Don’t. It just makes Elias wrap Jon in his arms as he gently says, “No.”

Jon always needs to know, as if knowledge will save him, change his fate. He thinks that’s why he Sees when Elias comes inside him. It feels like something opens and implacable light pours in, stupefying him before it slams shut again. He sees Elias bent over him, predatory bliss evident in every line of his body. He sees himself, face a mask of anguish, legs spread obscenely. He sees their laboring bodies frozen in this moment of Elias’ triumph, the Watcher’s sacrifice accepted. He does not watch it dispassionately. He’s never been able to be dispassionate, whatever he might pretend. He is consumed with horror and shame and despair and that is as much a sacrifice to the Eye as his body. Then it ends. Jon is merely himself now. Broken. Defiled.

Elias sighs, long and satisfied. He pulls out and Jon feels a sickening warmth slick down to drip on the desk. Elias slips his hands under Jon, unconcerned with touching his own spend, to carry him to Elias’ chair. Jon’s too weak not to lean against Elias as they settle in, but he manages to summon a spark of spiteful joy for the mess he’s surely leaving on Elias’ fine tailored suit.

Elias releases Jon’s wrists. Then, finally, with his hand cupping Jon’s face, he unknots the tear soaked blindfold. They look at each other. The restoration of his vision revives Jon just enough to grind out, “I hate you.”

Elias smiles. “I adore you. My sublime Archivist. Next time,” and he pulls Jon’s head to rest on his shoulder. “I do hope you’ll allow yourself to enjoy it.”

Jon can’t bear to think about it. He lets Elias caress his spine. He shuts his eyes.

—

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#the magnus archives #tma #do not archive #elias bouchard #jonathan sims #badthingshappenbingo #jonelias

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erisgregory · 5 years

Text

Fire and Ice

cross posted to AO3

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) Relationship: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes Characters: Michael Guerin, Alex Manes Additional Tags: Blow Jobs, Heat Wave, Ice Play Summary: Alex is burning up and Michael's body heat isn't helping, so Michael decides to help Alex cool down in the best way.

“Uhg, get off.” Alex complains as he shoves Michael away.

Michael doesn’t pout, because he can take a hint already, but also because he knows that the ac just isn’t cutting in the cabin tonight and he runs too hot as it is. So he doesn’t pout, much.

“Should I open a window, maybe a breeze would help.” He offers, sitting up in bed.

“It’s 103 degrees out there still, I just checked, do NOT touch the window.” Alex grumps as he rolls to his back.

There is a fine sheen of sweat all over his body, making him glisten in the bit of moonlight shining in the room, and dammit he looks edible. Michael wants to touch, needs to touch, but Alex has said no, and Michael’s all about the enthusiastic consent of his partners.

“What about a glass of ice water.” He offers. “I don’t mind getting you a drink.”

Alex sighs and throws an arm over his eyes. “I don’t need you to wait on me.” He huffs. The heat is clearly making him grumpy.

“I know you don’t, but I’m going to get myself one so I thought I’d offer.” Michael assures him. He wasn’t, but it sounds like a good idea anyway.

“Fine.” Alex says.

Michael rolls out of bed and pads into the kitchen where he makes two glasses of ice water and then brings them back to the bedroom passing one to Alex. The glass feels great in his hand, actually. Being transfixed by a naked sweaty Alex has distracted him from how hot he feels. As he sits back down he takes a drink and the cool liquid is transcendent. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he really was either. In fact, it feels so good it gives him an idea.

“Alex?” He asks softly. Alex is gulping his water down and Michael can’t blame him for that, he should have offered him a drink sooner.

“Yeah?” Alex sets his glass down and looks over at Michael.

“I have an idea, that might help cool you off.” Michael sets his own glass over on the side table.

“Okay, I’m game for just about anything at this point. Short of leaving. It’s too late and even hotter outside.”

“We don’t have to leave for this, but you do have to trust me.” Michael says with a wink.

Alex groans. “We aren’t touching, I’m sorry, but no. You are way too hot for me, Guerin.”

“Where is the trust, I’m wounded Manes.” Michael places his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“What is your idea then?” Alex asks rolling his eyes.

Michael reaches his fingers into his glass and pulls out a piece of ice. “This is my idea.” He says, as the ice melts against his fingers and water drips down his arm. Then he reaches toward Alex, slowly so he has plenty of time to say no, and when he doesn’t stop Michael, he runs the ice over Alex’s shoulder and down his arm. Alex shivers, his eyes going wide and curious.

“What do you think, you still game for just about anything?” Michael asks with a lift of his eyebrow.

“Yeah, I think I am.” Alex says slowly, watching Michael now.

Michael moves closer, bringing his ice with him. He trails it over Alex’s collarbone and dips it into the hollow of his neck, then he bends to chase the trail of water with his tongue. Alex groans appreciatively. He squirms beneath Michael and Michael wants, needs more.

He takes the ice lower, circling Alex’s nipple as Alex sucks in a breath. Then he slowly crosses over it, once, twice, until the nipple pebbles under the cold and then he moves forward, taking the nipple in his mouth and soothing it with the warmth from his tongue. Alex moans softly and the sound goes straight to Michael’s cock.

This piece of ice was almost melted, so he reaches for another one, a bigger one. This he twirls around Alex’s other nipple before he drags it down his chest and swirls it around his belly button. Again he follows with his mouth as Alex twists under him.

“I think you like this.” He says under his breath.

“Fuck you.” Alex huffs a laugh, but he arches toward the ice as Michael trails it down the path of hair leading to Alex’s cock.

“Sorry can’t, someone told me there was no touching so I’m touching as little as possible.” Michael teases as he runs the ice right up to the base of Alex’s cock before stopping.

Alex takes a deep breath and holds it, his body straining as he waits. Michael doesn’t make him wait long, he slowly pulls the ice up along Aelx’s shaft as Alex bucks under him.

“Hmm, this gives me another idea.” Michael says slyly.

“Oh god.” Alex whines. “Please.”

Michael takes the ice and pops it into his mouth, his eyes trained on Alex’s. Then he lowers his head and takes Alex’s cock straight into his mouth with none of his usual teasing. He needs to use both hands to hold Alex still then as he bobs his head up and down, a mixture of heat and cold to drive Alex wild. Alex grows harder against his tongue and it makes Michael moan to feel it.

“Michael, oh my god, oh god.” Alex cries.

“Mmm.” Michael hums his approval and Alex thrashes under him.

He pulls off with a pop and smirks up at Alex who is gripping the sheets in both hands. Then he goes back down to lick along Alex’s cock, fully hard now, teasing him now, enjoying the idea of taking Alex apart. It’s still hot as hell, but the ice and the distraction seem to be helping Alex quite a bit.

Then he sinks back over Alex, sucking his cock into his mouth and Alex gives up holding the sheet and takes hold of Michael’s hair, sinking his fingers into the curls just the way Michael likes and holding him in places as he fucks into Michael’s mouth. With the ice almost completely melted, Michael swallowed it and motioned for Alex to let him up. Then he grabbed another piece and went right back to work, his free hand pulling Alex’s hand back to his head where he wanted it.

“Oh god, I can’t, Michael, I can’t hold on too much longer, fuck.” Alex was babbling above him, the words gritted out between his teeth.

Michael sped up, sucking Alex hard and fast, reaching to toy with his balls gently until he could no longer hold Alex down without being too rough with him, so he just let Alex fuck his face until Alex was crying out above him and shaking apart. He came in hot gulps which spilled out of Michael’s mouth because of the ice, though Michael swallowed as best he could around it.

He sucked Alex through it all, taking every last bit even as it spilled down his chin and dripped on Alex’s thighs and then, only when Alex was spent, did he pull back. He was able to swallow the ice then as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. But before he could do more to clean himself Alex was pulling him down into a filthy kiss. It was both hot and cold thanks to the ice and Michael tucked that one away to remember for later.

When they both pulled back to catch their breaths, Alex smiled up at him, and Michael brushed the sweaty hair from his forehead.

“Let’s get cleaned up together.” Alex whispered, finding his voice. “We can take a nice cold shower and see if we can take care of you too.”

Michael hadn’t even been thinking about his own pleasure, though he was rock hard, he realized, so he nodded with a grin and helped pull Alex to a sitting position.

Later in the shower, Alex repaid in kind from the little shower bench and Michael screamed his name under the icy water. Both were cool and relaxed when they finally fell into bed once more with softly whispered I love yous, though Alex still wouldn’t cuddle, Michael forgave him and fell asleep thinking of fire and ice.

#malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico fic #eris writes fics

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dcbicki · 7 years

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Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Veep (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Amy Brookheimer/Dan Egan Characters: Amy Brookheimer, Dan Egan, Selina Meyer, Gary Walsh, Richard Splett, Ben Cafferty, Kent Davison, Jonah Ryan, Sophie Brookheimer Additional Tags: Suggestive Themes, Rating May Change, Unplanned Pregnancy, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Angst, Hurt/Comfort Summary:

In which Amy’s pregnant, and Dan already has a plan mapped out for them. -

If she’s in this for the long haul, then he will be, too. If she’s keeping this baby (his baby), then he’s keeping her close by. If she’s ready for this, for change, for restless nights and shitty diapers at two o'clock in the fucking morning, then he’ll join her.

They fucked, and now they’re fucked.

Nothing major.

That’s what the doctor says, and Amy has a hard time believing her.

They hadn’t been waiting long in the emergency room before she got called in and checked over. Dan had explained what happened, carefully kept his hand from grazing her skin - because she kept pulling on her sleeves, because she didn’t look like she wanted him to touch her.

“It’s nothing to worry about?”

Try as he might to deny it, he’d be worried. Or, at least, he’d been experiencing what he assumes is concern. Not that he has much to go off. He’s never really been one for… sympathy or empathy or, you know, worry.

A tightening in his gut, as though something is wrenching his intestines too tight? His heartbeat speeding up, pounding away inside his chest, reminding him that he does in fact possess the organ? The uncontrollable urge to hold her hand, tell her something reassuring, even though he doesn’t do the latter because he can’t? That’s worry, right? That’s concern? Nothing less, nothing more?

That’s concern. Yeah. Obviously. What the fuck else could it be?

“Nothing major?” She sounds almost incredulous, as though some part of her might actually want things to be worse. It’s the tone in her voice that captures Dan’s full attention.

It’s subtle, but he catches it, knows how to unravel each and every layer of her being in a way that escapes her.

“No, just a little spotting.” The doctor folds her hands in her lap, swivels around to face them, “Never anything to worry about, usually. But I do want you to take it easy-”

“Easier.” Dan corrects before she can finish, eyes wide, gaze focused on the top of Amy’s head.

“Right. Yeah. Easier than usual. Maybe try and lighten your workload, if you can? I know I’m probably asking for a lot here, but you need to take better care of your health, Amy.” She practically sanctions with a nod, condescending, “Resting a lot more has never done anyone any harm.”

“So it was, like, what? Stress bleeding?” Amy sighs, puffing out her chest as she lies back down on the uncomfortable bed. The paper sheet rustles and she winds her shoulders back and forth, perched up on her elbows. “The kid can’t chill out for a second, huh?”

“I don’t, uh-” Her doctor stands, wipes her hands down her coat, “Anyway, since you don’t want to know the sex, I won’t just blurt it out.” She looks at Dan then, tilts her head toward the hallway, “You did.”

“Yeah.”

Of course he fucking did. Of course he wanted to know if he was gonna have a mini-me to model after himself, or a mini-Amy to fuck up just as he had her mother.

Leaving the room, he catches the faintest mumble slipping past Amy’s lips, something along the lines of “Narcissistic prick.”

Sure, Amy.

When the door’s closed behind him, he whips his head around to face the doctor, arms folded over her chest, face strict, and he honestly feels like she’s gonna dropkick his ass into next week.

“She needs to fucking rest.”

The hall-side manner on this one-

“I know that.” He frowns, keeps his hand wrapped around the handle because standing in a hospital corridor without Amy is a little unnerving. There’s, like, sick people down the hall, and like-

“It’s good that you know that, but you need to actually help her.” She nods, informing and clear, “You two seem very co-dependant, and that’s great, but it’s also a risk factor. Because she’s relying on you to be there, and you need to support her.”

We were like five minutes away from fucking before we had to rush here, lady. I think that means I’m pretty fuckin’ reliant?

“I bought us a fucking apartment, for fuck’s sake. What, is there some kind of etiquette for expectant parents I’m not aware of?” He slides his free hand in his pocket, ignores his phone when it vibrates, distracting him.

He’s pretty sure that answering a text or a call right now is gonna go against everything this chick is rambling on about. He has to at least make it look like he gives half a crap.

She sighs, heavier than he thinks she needs to, and then her voice lowers and she glances down the hallway and back to his face, “If she keeps depriving herself of sleep, or if she overexerts herself, it’s not gonna be good for her or the baby.”

“Okay?” He’d shrug, but maybe that’d be a little too douchey- “You can spare me the fuckin’ lecture though, doc. If you think she’s gonna prioritise the kid over her job, you’ve clearly know jack about her. She’s all work. She breathes in responsibility like it’s fuckin’ oxygen, all right?”

“Look, it’s great that you’re involved, and it’s great that you’re meeting all her needs, but you need to remember that she chose you.”

She didn’t though, did she? She didn’t choose me. She got stuck with me. We got tied together by some kind of ridiculously thick, incredibly knotted, tar-soaked tether.

“She chose you, which means you have to be her fucking compass. You have to remind her to sleep. You have to remind her to eat - because, oh, she’s underweight, by the way. Crush those vitamins into her meals if you have to. She needs to be healthy, and stay healthy.”

“She’s not, like… dying though, right?” Because, you know… That’d just be the cherry on top of the sundae that is this last year. Jesus!

“Would she have to be dying for you to pull your head out of your ass?”

Dan grunts, leans his head back against the window of the door, forcing himself to not turn around and stare at Amy through the glass. She’s probably on her phone, texting Selina or Ben, bitching about him.

“No.” He clears his throat, shoots the doctor a look from above, eyes heavy - because, you know, it’s still the middle of the fucking night and they’re still in the hospital - “What if she doesn’t want the kid?”

“What?” Her shoulders lower, and her nose crinkles and Dan’s not blind - she’s actually kind of cute, in a nerdy way. But that’s- “Are you saying she’s trying to harm the baby?”

“What, no! Fuck no.” He shakes his head, chews at his lip for a second, hands shifting along the doorframe, “No, she’s not that batshit. She’s just a little-”

“Neurotic? Shrill?”

“Tense.” He’s never liked it when people say she’s shrill, because she’s not. She’s just- “And because she’s tense, she’s kind of a fuckin’ mess. And because she’s a mess, she’s a little… You know.”

He shrugs now, nonchalant because he’s calm despite his nerves, because he’s mastered the art of feigning calmness when he needs to.

“A little tense.” His brown eyes damn near bulge, and his neck stretches and this fucking doctor looks like she wants to bitch-slap him.

“She’s pregnant with your child.”

“Yeah, and she didn’t wanna be.”

“You both- She made the decision to keep it. If she has questions, or if she needs help taking care of her situation, then she can come see me. But in the meantime, you’re her fucking lifeline. Go and buy her a burger and fries or something.”

“Pizza.”

“What?”

“Pizza. If we’re talking junk food, she prefers pizza.”

“I don’t give a shit.” The doctor shrugs, brushes past him and pushing his hand from the handle.

She’s staring up at him, and Dan realises that he’s stood still with his mouth open, as though he’s on the verge of saying something.

Oh.

He blinks, lifts one shoulder - because he's chill, and he’s calm, obviously - and he raises both brows curiously, the smallest traces of a smirk forming on his lip because, well…

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Christ, that thing again.”

It’s more observation than question, but he shoots her an inquisitive look all the same, because he knows it’ll piss her off - but mainly because he fucking loathes that particular piece of clothing.

It’s just so grey, and so bland, and so blah! and unlike anything else she owns. He doesn’t understand why she owns it, much less chooses to actually wear it. It’s not exactly flattering-

“What?” Amy shakes her head, keeps her gaze focused on the television screen across the room. “Nobody’s asking you to give a shit.”

She brushes her hair behind her ears, pulls her legs up beneath her on the couch, almost like a child. She tugs the nightgown down her thighs, pulling the material around her knees until her legs are tucked in, warmer.

“You’re not asking me to give a shit but I’m still free to give a shit.” He shrugs, uselessly as she doesn’t pay him any attention.

Noticing her refusal to even look at him, Dan rolls his eyes, swipes his beer from the countertop and makes his way over to her.

They’d bought takeaway and he’d practically have to shove three slices of pizza down her throat. She hadn’t spoken to him at all, and he hadn’t tried to speak to her after one or two failed attempts.

You’re her fucking lifeline.

Her lifeline.

Yeah, because that wasn’t putting a lot of pressure on him. Jesus. Should he just serve up his balls on a platter right now and get it over with?

He questions his decision sometimes; wonders how he ever agreed to this, or rather, how he was the one to suggest this in the first place.

We’ll move in together, and it’ll be easy. We’ll get engaged - fake or real, who really cares? - and it’ll fun. We’ll have a kid, and we’ll be a family.

Maybe he was drunk when he thought this’d be a good idea. Because, really, who’s he kidding? This - being with her all the time, having to spend more time focusing on her and the kid than on himself? It’s fucking insane.

It’ll be easy, and it’ll be fun, and we’ll be a family. Okay. But what if he’s not ready for that? What if he fucks everything up because he jumped in while the sharks were still circling? What if he ruins everything because he’s in deeper than he wanted to be?

What if he ruins her life, and their kid by proxy, because he thought he could take care of something, of someone, he never deserved in the first place?

What if-

“Okay, fine.” He grumbles, pulls at the strings of his sweatpants until they loosen just the slightest. “You wanna play that game?” His brows raise, and he tosses himself down on the sofa, almost smacking into her head with his shoulder.

Amy grunts, shrugs him off when he purposely nudges her leg, knocks into her knee, “What the fuck?” She glares at him out of the corner of her eye, pulls a face when he sips (loud, too loud!) from his bottle. “Fucking hell.”

“What?” Dan asks, and she can tell he’s on the brink of fucking winking at her because he’s just that much of an ass. “You wanted to play.”

“I’m not playing a game, you fucking infant.” She says, “Just because I don’t feel like wearing something, fucking what, inviting, you think I’m trying to mess with you? Grow the hell up.”

“You wear that back in Nevada for the human beansprout?”

Choosing to ignore him - he did ignore her first, after all - she pushes at the buttons on the remote, flicks off C-Span to settle on some european channel airing one of those gritty old black and white movies.

She doesn’t even give a shit what it is or what it’s about, but she turns the volume up purely to spite him because he starts talking again as soon as she settles the remote down.

But his voice gets louder, and she’s never wanted to gag him more.

“What, you can’t find anything in colour? We’ve gotta watch this medieval shit?”

He whines, sighs, and she knows that he only does it to gauge a reaction, to make her react.

“Could’ve put on some porn, given at least one of us something fun to watch.”

“For fuck’s sake.” She mumbles the words below her breath, teeth grinding, but he hears her all the same.

Dan smirks down at her, nudges her bicep with his elbow, “What was that? Did you just say something?” Nudge. Nudge. “Ames? You have something to say?” Smirk. Nudge.

“No. And it’d be great if you could quit being an annoying weirdo.”

“I’m being weird?”

Again? Fuck her!

“I’m not the one who was offering to cook dinner, Dan.” She points out. “I just wanted to sit here, and see what latest fuckups our piss-stained country was dealing with tonight, but you- You keep… You keep talking and fucking asking me shit and I’m sick of it.”

“I’m trying to be comforting-”

“Well, don’t. Because it’s not fucking comforting, and it’s not reassuring. You don’t have a comforting bone in your fucking body so I don’t even know why you’re pretending you do. It’s just irritating. You’re irritating.”

She runs her fingers through her hair, focuses wide eyes on the coffee table, trying her hardest to ignore his movements, the way his Adam’s apple bobs and his right eye twitches just the slightest.

“God, I fucking hate this. I hate having your kid. I hate being pregnant with your kid. You- You’re fucking toxic, and this kid- It’s poisonous. It’s got your fucked-up DNA and it’s just gnawing at my insides like a fucking virus.”

His face seems to stiffen at that, all tired eyes and tightly-drawn lips, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you done?”

“No.” Amy says, turning to face him then. Her expression’s blank, her eyes clear. A strand of hair falls at the side of her face, but he won’t move it, move to touch her. “I should’ve just had an abortion.”

She means it, in all fairness. And he believes her, knows she means it.

Her life would be so much simpler if she wasn’t pregnant, if she wasn’t being put through the ringer every fucking day. Life would just run much smoother. She could just get up and she could do what she wanted and she could fucking drink.

She wouldn’t have other (happy) pregnant women smiling, or single women judging her. She wouldn’t have greasy old men ogling her breasts (even though they haven’t even fucking grown that much - but it’s not like she wasn’t already used to that). She wouldn’t have Dan following her around like a fucking puppy, shoving a ring on her finger, trying to turn her into his latest pet project.

She wouldn’t be Selina’s little bitch. Well, not as much. She wouldn’t be tired and cranky and horny and messy and bitchy all the time. Well-

“You really think that?”

“Yeah. And you know, it’d be easier for you, too. You could go back to fucking half of the East Coast. You could take that fucking ring back, or force someone else to wear it. I don’t really care.”

She shrugs, quickly, and she licks her lips. It’s petty, sure, but- fuck him and his fucking half-assed attempt at codling her. Her legs pull up, and she’s pulling at the bottom of her nightie.

“Think about it. You wouldn’t have to face me in this.” One brow hitches and then she laughs, a small chuckle, “I’m sure there are plenty of women out there right now, drunk out of their minds, wet enough that you just could glide right in.” She does the hand gesture, stares him down, watches as his face turns from pale to rose.

“You want to Dan, don’t you? You can go. Go fuck someone else. I know you want to. Hell, you know, I want you to. Maybe that way you can crawl out of my asshole for five seconds and I can fucking breathe.”

“You want me to leave?”

Maybe this would be better. Maybe he does want out. Maybe he’s had one foot out the door this whole time. Maybe she’s right.

Amy nods, and her face gives off nothing but honesty. She’s learnt over the years. Well, no. She can control her emotions, sometimes. It’s just- He’s so annoying, and he’s always there, and she’s so fed up- “Yes. I want you to leave."

"Fine.”

He stands faster than she can look up, and he’s downing the rest of his beer so quickly that she’s almost positive he has a head rush. The green bottle slams on the coffee table - thankfully it isn’t glass because she is not up for cleaning that mess, and he definitely wouldn’t clear it if he smashed it - and he’s heading towards the front door no sooner than he’s rounded the couch.

“Don’t forget a condom. Wouldn’t want anybody else being burdened with your fucking offspring!” She shouts, screams almost, folding her arms over her chest, not even bothering to look over the back of the couch.

It’s not that she’s sulking, or even being dramatic. She’s just- Done. She’s done. With him, with the way he’s acting. There’s only so much Good Dan she can handle, and he’s pushed her to the breaking point.

He grumbles something, but she doesn’t give enough of a shit to ask him about it. He slips on his sneakers, pulls a jacket over his arm - it is still March - jangles his keys in one hand (rattles them, more like) as though the noise is going to get her to look at him.

“I’m leaving.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’ll bring you back that used condom, shall I?”

“Not if you get hit by a bus first.” She whispers to herself, looking down to her lap. Her fingers fidget, and she pulls her shoulders higher, broader.

The cushions of the couch do little to make her comfortable, and her neck tightens, throat dry, when the door opens and slams behind him.

“Asshole.”

Turns out, his mother had been in the guest room the whole time. She’d fallen asleep by the time they came home from the hospital, but the slamming of the front door had woken her up, made her walk into the living room with confusion clear on her face.

She’d joined Amy on the couch after unsuccessfully suggesting the blonde catch some sleep. She was headstrong, that was for sure.

“Danny is… He’s complicated.”

“Everyone’s complicated, that doesn’t make him special.” Amy says, “He’s just a shit.”

“Okay, yeah, he’s a shit.” Marie nods, offers the gentlest of smiles. “But he’s a lot less of a shit than he used to be. You know that.” She pats Amy’s arm, retracts it quickly when the blonde glances down at the gesture. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She shrugs, shaking her head twice. “I do know that.”

“I think you know why.”

“I just figured he was lobotomised as part of his CBS contract.” Amy smiles, or tries a smile at the very least.

Marie can’t help it if her son’s an absolute waste of space sometimes. She can’t help it if he’s a unbearable pain in Amy’s ass. She can’t help it if he’s the only one to ever make Amy at least consider ass- Then again, she did make him, so… Maybe she is to blame.

The older woman grins, keeps her arm thrown over the back of the couch. “He’s a lot to handle, I know. I raised him, Amy.” She reminds her with raised brows as though she’s read the blonde’s mind. “I didn’t raise him like that, but that’s- He grew into that.”

“You mean he hasn’t always had a moisturising routine and a groomed sack? That’s like music to my fucking ears.”

“I mean,” she starts, trying to ignore that last bit, “He’s not the boy I raised. We taught him well. We were good parents, in our own way.” She adds.

Amy frowns, chewing at the inside of her lip. “But?” They clearly fucked up as parents somewhere along the way.

“Then his dad cheated, and I stayed at first, and I think it took a toll on him. He started thinking he could get ahead in life by using women because that’s what his dad did, thought of himself as some kind of new age casanova. Bankers, all suits and assholes, I tell you. It was ridiculous really.” Her fingers thread through her fringe and she pulls it backwards with a slight shake of the head and a chuckle, “Should’ve kept him home until he was twenty-five.”

“He’s so awful, honestly. My dad fucking hates his guts, by the way. You can’t blame him.” Amy tells her, “He slept with my sister.” Why did she throw that out there? Fuck, why did she just-?

“What?” Marie’s voice dips then, and she seems to sit up straight. Amy would laugh if the memory wasn’t so- “That little fucker.”

“Yeah. We were- well, not in a good place because we’ve never been in a good place, but- Yeah.” She nods, confirms, smiles a genuine fucking smile when his mother groans aloud in some kind of understanding, “Not gonna lie, I haven’t entirely forgiven him.”

“You shouldn’t forgive him.” She shakes her head, and then her hand is on Amy’s shoulder again and it isn't not reassuring. “Don’t forgive him for that. Forgive him for being needy and clingy and melodramatic if you can, but, heck, don’t let him get away with that.”

“I didn’t. I got the fuck out of dodge first chance I got.”

“You mean that tall guy you got engaged, too?” She questions, “I saw your interview. It was painful, to say the least. But, well, at least you dodged a bullet with that one. He didn’t look like much.”

“He was just… Ah, I didn’t even know.” Amy waves a hand, blinks rapidly to force the memory out of her mind. “He was so bad at sex.”

“Compensating for the micro-penis with his height?”

“Something like that.” Marie nods, all wide brown eyes and curled-up corners of her mouth, and she has the exact same face Dan does when he’s intrigued, interested for all the wrong reasons, “Like, I didn’t even have to do anything. He just wanted me to lie there and then he had the nerve to bitch about it, saying I was boring?” She scoffs, “I don’t think I even came once.”

Marie gasps, and Amy’s so close to laughing at this entire situation. Is she fucking… gossiping with Dan’s mom? Lord fucking help her. Damn this fucking baby for making her un-Amy. Damn this fucking devil child for normalising her even just a little bit.

“Fucking hell.”

“And then I came back to a shitty job where my boss, who I’ve spent like a fucking decade of my life working for, back-burnered me in favour of Richard, and now look where I am.”

Knocked up with your evil son’s sadistic spawn and it’s fucking destroying me? Carrying Rosemary’s fucking baby, cranked up a notch or two?

The brunette pries, “At least tell me my boy gets you off? Please tell me Danny isn’t incompetent in every aspect of his life?”

What the fuck? So, he obviously inherited that from his fucking mother.

“He’s, uh… dedicated?”

“Yeah, he gets that from his dad.”

Amy’s so desperate for information, mainly so she can use it against him. She knows next to nothing about his father, and having something to use against Dan? Fucking score.

But her fatigue overpowers her curiosity, and she’s standing before she can contemplate the decision any longer.

“I’m gonna-” Amy nods her head towards the hallway, and she sniffles when the chill of the dimply-lit living room finally reaches her skin. Pulling at the sleeves of her nightgown, she shifts from one foot to the other, trying not to make the situation awkward.

“Right, yes.” Marie stands, copies her actions.

She runs her hands down her sides, and nods once, twice (in the slightest way). She smiles down at Amy because of course she’s just as tall as her son - or, well, he’s just as tall as his mom - “Goodnight, Amy."

The blonde offers the smallest of smiles, baring teeth and batting tired lashes, "Yeah. Uh, night.”

She waits until Marie’s down the hallway before glancing at the door one last time. It’s well past two o'clock, and he’s probably balls deep in some skanky college grad by now.

Fuck him.

“Are those flowers?”

It’s the crinkling of the plastic around the stems that has her half-awake eyes flickering open, in curious suspicion.

“Yeah.” He grumbles more than speaks, and she feels him say it, breathe it, more than she hears it. “We missed Valentine’s Day.”

Because it’s early March and we don’t do that.

“Are they for me or for your conscience?”

Dan grunts, and can hear his shoes hit the floor carelessly as he kicks them off, “Both.” He lies flat on his back, his shoulder pushing against her curved back, all bone digging into spine. “Mostly for you.”

He doesn’t smell of anything other than beer and tequila. He doesn’t smell of cheap perfume or expensive perfume or anything feminine.

She doesn’t want to be that person, that girl who checks his pocket and scrolls through his phone, but- He doesn’t- She isn’t that person, doesn’t need to be, won’t be.

“Was she good?”

“Fucking- really?” He’s facing her now, she can feel it. His breath runs over the back of her neck, and she pulls her legs up tighter into her body, knees to abdomen. “You’re really asking me that?”

“You know what, I don’t care.” She rolls her eyes behind closed lids, forcing her eyes open to stare at the dresser across the room. “Just don’t touch me. I don’t wanna catch anything.”

There’s a huff, a pant, from his side of the bed, and then he’s flipped over, facing her back completely. He curls both arms in front of himself, resting them between both of their bodies. “I didn’t need to sleep with anyone else, Amy.”

“How comforting.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“What, do you want a fucking medal?” She hopes to Christ he can’t see her reflection in the mirror on the wall, hopes he can’t see the look of anguish on her face right now. It’s not that she cares, it’s just- He’s- “Congratulations, Dan. You successfully kept your dick in your pants for one night. I’ll buy you a plaque tomorrow.”

“I don’t-” He starts, pauses to collect himself. His voice softens, and she doesn’t like it this time, “You know, I kept thinking of you.” He stops, seems to wait for her to spare him a glance over her shoulder before continuing, “I was just… picturing you. Sat on the couch, by yourself, watching that shitty old romcom as though it was gonna bring you any kind of comfort. I thought ‘I could do this. I could fuck that pretty redhead across the bar. And I’d probably enjoy every second of it’.”

“Then why the fuck didn’t you?” She sounds aggravated, she knows, but he’s riling her up on purpose and it’s infuriating. He’s smoothing circles around her itches, covering her in goosebumps when she’s already freezing.

Yes, I get it, you dick. You can go out and fuck whoever you like. You can go out and-

“Because I kept thinking of you. Okay? Because you sitting there looking all glum and fuckin’ miserable as I left the apartment earlier? That wasn’t- It wasn’t fun. I thought of you, and I felt guilty. And I don’t even know why because it’s not like you give a shit about me. I mean, fuckin’ hell, Amy, would it kill you to try being with me?”

Being, as in- What?

“I did try.”

She swallows, holds back a breath she isn’t sure she wants to set free. If he hears her sob, or hiccup, or fucking cry- If he-

God for-fucking-bid. She sits up, refuses to face him, “You made me try, so I tried, and I failed.”

“I don’t want you to try because it’s what I want. I want you to try because you want to. I want you to try because it matters to you, not because you think it’ll make things easier.”

Easier, because easy is impossible. They can minimise the pain. They can place boundaries where normal people don’t need them.

Dan copies her, moving to kneel behind her. His hands fall to the mattress, touching the edge of her fucking nightie, “You’re no fucking picnic and this is not easy, and it’s not gonna be fuckin’ easy because if I don’t want to kill you then you want to kill me, and we’re probably doomed for fucking failure anyway, but I want you to try.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.” She tells him, shooting him the briefest of looks over her shoulder (again), “What you want is the kid because you think it’ll give you some kind of fucking purpose, because you want to exploit it or something. What you want is this little fantasy that you’ve dreamt up where we have a family and you convince me to marry you after so many years and we live happily ever after in political fucking bliss. It won’t work. It never works.”

“You don’t know that.” Dan says, like an overconfident little brat, like the eager frat boy he probably once was.

His tone frustrates her, and the way his knee digs into her lower back pisses her off, and the way his hand is so close to her leg makes her blood boil, and-

“Try me.”

“What if I don’t want to try?”

“I’m not asking you to put on a pretty white dress and walk down a fuckin’ aisle, Amy. Just, give me something here. Meet me halfway.”

“If I meet you halfway, then you’ll just grab on and drag me down your dark fucking path to hell.”

She moves her shoulders, lets the cold air running through the apartment blister her skin. It isn’t cold enough, doesn’t sting.

Placing one hand on her waist, Dan pulls at her side until she’s facing him. He cups her chin in his hand (forcefully) when she refuses to meet his eye, “Amy.”

“What?”

He tilts her head, waiting until her gaze falls on his mouth because it's enough. He’ll settle for that.

“We’re already going to hell.” He informs her as though it’s fact, “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re kind of already a package deal.”

“I don’t want to be.”

“If you didn’t, then you’d look me in the eye and calm the fuck down.”

She can’t do it, can’t force herself to stare right at him, stare him down and let him know that she-

Damn it. Damn him.

“Do you know why I want you to try?”

“Because you’re a fucking sociopath and you need constant validation?”

“Because this,” Dan waves his free hand back and forth between them, watching as she watches him, lets it wrap around her elbow, “it could work. We can work. We can be great.”

“Careful, Dan. You almost sound romantic.”

“Not so much romantic as pragmatic.”

Amy rolls her eyes, can’t help the faint smile that starts to form at the sheer thought, “Because you’ve got that sad little fantasy playing on a loop in that fucked-up head of yours and you're just about delusional enough to think it could it actually be real.”

“Because you’re the best thing for me.”

“Is this where you propose for real?”

“Would you wear a pretty white dress if I did?” His brows raise, his face teasing, so smug he may as well be chewing gum with his mouth open, sloppy. “You wanna take a trip down the aisle?”

She snorts, “Not even halfway. Besides, my dad would never let me marry you.”

“What are you, sixteen?” He asks, “You don’t need Daddy’s permission to marry me.”

“He’d fucking kill you. I’d probably be the one handing him the shovel to dig your grave in his backyard.”

“You wouldn’t even help out your poor husband?” His fingers crawl up her elbow, dance along her bicep, tugging at and riding up the sleeve of her shirt, “You wouldn’t wanna die with me?”

“And miss out on the funeral? No fucking way. I’ve got so many stories to tell people. Gonna piss all over your name and reputation. Maybe start a bonfire, burn all your fucking suits.”

“Yeah? You can wear this piece of shit to my funeral if you want. At least I won’t be around to see it.” He scrunches it up between his fingers, and she looks down when his face turns from amusement to astonishment, “Not gonna lie about it, it’s actually kind of soft.”

“See? Who needs lace panties…”

She nudges him this time, stretches her legs out and moves her body around so her back is resting against his chest. His left hand slips to her side when they’re both lay down, resting his arm beneath her pillow, and his right hand reaches around her front, fingers curling, threading through her hair, crook of his elbow comfortable around her neck.

“Well, I mean, you could still-”

“Shut up.”

Dan scratches his brow with the hand at her front, blinks, thinking. He can feel her breath on his skin, feel the hair of his forearm stick up at the sound of her voice, warm despite the broken radiator.

“D'you wanna know the sex?”

“No. Don’t care.”

“It’s a boy.”

She hits him, smacking his arm with the back of her hand, “You prick!”

“Amy?”

She doesn’t reply, only makes a little grunting noise, backs up into him as though that’ll suffice.

“This kid’s so fucked.”

“I know.” She agrees, grabs her pillow from his hand and pulls it closer, pressing her face into the cotton, pushing her backside further into him because he’s warm and his body is, she finds, a perfect harmony of softness and roughness. “Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“I hate roses.”

“I know.” There’s a low chuckle, and she feels his fingers tighten in her hair, gripping and grasping but not quite pulling, “I left the peonies in the kitchen.”

It’s subtle, the way he remembers everything about her - so subtle that he doesn’t even know he’s doing it most of the time. He knows how many layers she has, knows just how to unravel each and every one. He knows her inside and out, knows just how to calm her down, how to rile her up when he wants to.

He knows what she needs when she needs something, knows how to handle her when she spins, falls and loses herself. And, in some way, he think she’s come to rely on him. And he likes it, likes that she needs him sometimes. He kind of likes being her compass, her fucking lifeline.

Nobody else gets her; understands her when she needs it or possesses her when she wants it. Nobody else worries, has an aching feeling in the pit of their stomach when she’s even in some pain. Nobody else cares enough to try with her.

That’s concern, right? Nothing less, nothing more?

Maybe, maybe not.

It’s only when she kicks him in the shin and grabs his hand that he thinks it might be more than that, more than a little feeling.

It’s only when she falls asleep and he finds calmness in the steady rhythm of her breath that he thinks this might be more than a fleeting thing, than a passing emotion.

“Asshole.”

Fuck.

He’s never been good with emotions, identifying them or processing them, but- Shit, he didn’t ever want to feel this.

What the fuck is he supposed to do now?

That’s love, you fuckin’ idiot.

#veep #dan x amy #amy brookheimer #dan egan #veep fic #fic*#iaa*#ship: dan x amy #ch: dan egan #ch: amy brookheimer

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classysassy9791 · 7 years

Text

11 Question Shenanigans

Tagged by @grapefruitwannabe :)

1. How did you get into fandom? What was your catalyst to finding the tumblr community?

Well, I sneaked my way into the fandom a long time ago, starting with randomly finding the anime on Adult Swim and then eventually stumbling upon fanfiction.net. Already a bookworm, I loved reading all about my favorite characters, and then the plot bunnies formed, and viola! Here I am almost 9 years later and 40 stories deep!

The tumblr community was actually pretty recent (a little over a year). I can thank the wonderful @iliveondaydreams for that. This little sunshine not only accepted to be my beta, but then she introduced me to this community, where the love for my OTP fandom is still going strong. So I get to fall in love with it all over again. She’s a saint, I tell ya!

2. What’s your favourite part about your favourite fandom?

My favorite part about the Inuyasha fandom is how much positivity and love everyone shows each other. And that even long after the manga finished and the anime stopped airing, this fandom is still as strong as ever, continuing to spread their love through works of art, fiction, and everything in between. Gosh, you all are my rockstars! Thank you for indulging in this fandom as much as I do (sometimes more!). You make my world spin :)

3. If you could spend the day with any fictional character, who would it be and why?

Hm.. Hard to choose, but I would probably pick Kagome. The thing that I love about Kagome is she is such a leader. She doesn’t follow like a sheep because society says to, and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. She asks questions and gets answers, and if she wants something done, she does it. And yet, she’s also cheerful, positive, and an amazing friend. Sometimes I see myself in her. I would love to just be around her (and doing some archery practice would totally be okay, too)

4. What fictional character has had the biggest impact on your life or has inspired you the most?

Kagome and Inuyasha. They taught me about what I mentioned above, but they also taught me that it’s okay to be different. To never judge a book by its cover. And to always give someone a chance before you turn them away. As I’m sitting here and actually really thinking about it for the first time, I’d say they were a large part of who I became, who I am, and I am so, so grateful for that. There’s a reason why they’re my OTP.

5. Talk about your favourite book (I KNOW IT’S HARD but if you had to pick one)

So, when I was in high school, I had a friend named Wes. He’s was my best friend since we were 4 years old, but while I stayed a book worm, he got roped into the partying and the drugs, so we obviously lost touch. So the following book already had meaning to me simply because of a name.

The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen is about a girl named Macy who suddenly lost her father to a heart attack, and now as to deal with the emotional toll on her family. Since it happened during their habitual morning runs, Macy gives up running. While her sister is beginning her own life with her husband, and her mother buries herself in work, Macy finds comfort in her boyfriend, Jason - a meticulous brainiac who always has the answers. While he’s away at Brain Camp for the summer, Macy works at the library, and sticks to emailing him about her days. In one email, she finally confesses she loves him, causing him to back off and tell her they need to take a break until he returns at the end of the summer.

Hurt and upset, Macy goes for a ride and stumbles upon Wish Catering. On a whim, she applies and lands the job. There she meets a wonderful new group of coworkers she absolutely loves, and Wes - the mysterious artist who makes all the girls swoon.

As Macy begins to breathe again for the first time following her father’s death, her mother feels her grip on Macy is slipping, and struggles to keep control of her daughter’s life. Macy is pulled in two separate directions - the concise and mundane job at the library followed by studying for the SATs at night, or the chaotic, free-spirited friends at Wish Catering that her mother disapproves of. To top it all off, Jason is returning at the end of the summer, where he’ll want to discuss where their relationship will be going from here.

A story about the idea of being “perfect,” and what that does and doesn’t mean. It’s really a great read and I highly recommend it!

6. Do you have any accomplishments or anything in your life you feel the most proud of?

Well, I’m graduating college with my Bachelors in Science and Nursing, and will officially take my boards this summer for my Registered Nurse Licensure, so that’s a pretty big deal for me, especially since I’ve been fighting for this for seven years. Besides that, I have been working at a hospital for 6 years, have written a lot of fanfiction stories which I continue to improve my writing skills with, I went out of my comfort zone and traveled abroad for a mission trip (it was the first time I had been on one, the first time I had been out of the country, and the first time I had been away from home for so long), and I am almost completely independent when it comes to my stability. So yeah, I’d say I’m pretty accomplished for the moment.

7. Tell us about a project you have going on! Or if you don’t have one, maybe something you’ve always wanted to write or draw?

Guys... I have 60+ pages of projects going on. But I’m really excited about a multi-chapter Fairy Tail fic and a multi-chapter Inuyasha fic I’ve been writing in the background. They won’t be out for a while, since I’m concentrating more on my ongoing fics, but I can’t wait until they’re ready to be published!

8. How do you feel about AU’s?

I really enjoy them! I tend to actually prefer them, because you get to see the characters in a different setting, under different circumstances, and in a different time. And you know what they say about InuKag... a love that transcends time ;)

9. Do you have any favourite composers or soundtracks?

No, not particularly. It really depends on my mood. I tend to like listening to the oldies, but if I ever want to sing along or get some writing ideas, I love good old country music, where every lyric tells a story.

10. In your opinion, what is the best Disney movie to come out since Disney’s Golden Age?

Gosh, there are a handful that I fell in love with. Pocahontas was really good, because it shows a woman’s strength and courage and love. To not judge a person by the color of their skin, which I think was a huge lesson to learn. Also, The Little Mermaid, because it was about a girl following her dreams, and doing whatever she had to to obtain them (not saying you should sell your voice to a sea witch, but, ya know). And, most recently, Frozen, because it’s theme that true love comes in many forms, and it’s the best love there is - regardless of who you are or where you come from, you are you, and you are loved.

11. Fangirl about something, really go wild!

To be honest... I’ve never really felt like a “true” fangirl. (yeah, oops) I mean, I adore these characters and really fell in love with who they are and what they’ve been through. But... I don’t tend to get really “giddy” (even though when people give me giddy reviews, I squeal like a school girl, and I want to give giddy reviews back, but I just... can’t). I’m sorry, I fail at life. But I’ll attempt to for the sake of this questionnaire. You’re just not allowed to judge ^.^

So... I really love Inukag?? Like, omg, my favorite part is how they call out each other’s name you can just feel their declaration of love, and they always find one another and rescue one another, even though they’re sometimes 500 years apart and I just really, really, REALLY love their dynamic and their friendships and just... everything.

Including their happy little life with their happy little friends and their happy little towards tomorrow.

Yeah... I died.

Anyways, thanks for the tag, lovely!!

I tag: @iliveondaydreams @jeanbeannie @darlingdontletmego @supertimetravelmiko @stoatsandweasels @inukag-4ever

#personal #asks

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erisgregory · 5 years

Text

The Reason Is You Chapter 20/21

cross posted to AO3

or start with chapter 1

Authors: Crysty09, erisgregory

Crysty09′s tumblr

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M/M, Multi Fandom: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) Relationship: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes/Kyle Valenti, Alex Manes/Kyle Valenti Characters: Michael Guerin, Alex Manes, Kyle Valenti Additional Tags: background Isobel Evans/Maria DeLuca, background Max Evans/Liz Ortecho, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - M/M/M, Angst and Fluff and Smut Summary: Michael has been gone five years and when he finally returns to Earth it’s to find that Alex is married to Kyle. Isobel is about to be married to Maria and Max and Liz have a son. The world isn’t as he left it, which he should have expected, but now how will he find a place for himself? Will he ever get used to the new normal?

The past two weeks had been perfect, the three of them had fallen into a perfect rhythm and Alex had never been happier. Today he had spent the day with Maria helping her decorate for the housewarming party and he couldn't stop grinning as he told her about the happiness he felt being with Michael and Kyle. Just as he opened his first beer, people started to arrive and he couldn't stop himself from scanning the room for his boys.

Michael hurried to get to the party on time. He was only running a few minutes late but truthfully he couldn’t wait to see Alex and Kyle. They’d been apart for almost twenty four hours and Michael had missed them the whole time. He knocked then opened the door to find the room full of people. He hadn’t seen Kyle’s car, but knew Alex would be there already setting up. There! He spotted Alex by the gift table and headed over, sliding a card onto the table. “Hey you.” He said fondly.

When he saw the black hat and patch of messy hair enter the room, Alex felt his heart flip and he was grinning by the time Michael reached him. Alex's arms immediately wrapped around Michael's neck and he melted into him, kissing him deeply, "hey cowboy, I missed you," he said when he pulled back.

“I missed you too.” Michael said with a smile that was just for Alex.

“Did you miss me?” Kyle asked, coming up behind them.

Michael laughed softly. “Of course.” He said, leaning over to kiss Kyle.

Alex felt a warmth rush through him and he laughed at Kyle's entrance. He beamed at the other two, leaning up to kiss Kyle once Michael pulled away. Alex knew the room was full of other people but for the moment, he only had eyes for two of them, "you are coming back to the cabin after the party right?" He asked, his eyes travelling to Michael, playfully wiggling his eyebrows.

“Count on it.” Michael answered with a playful smirk. His bag was dutifully packed and waiting in his truck. He wasn’t about to miss any more time away from them, not when they were all going to be free tomorrow. It turned out that doctor’s work schedules were even more of a bitch than mechanic’s.

The three of them only got to have a day off together every now and then and Alex had been thinking about it all day long. He easily moved to wrap his arms around Kyle, leaning up to whisper in his ear, talking about the plans they had made for after the party and Kyle grinned, nodding at him. "Good," Alex added as an afterthought to Michael's reply, "we can't wait."

Michael watched them curiously, but then Isobel was pulling him into a hug and grinning at him. She held him by the arms. “I’m so glad you made it!” Then she turned her attention to Kyle and welcomed him as well. “You three need drinks.” She told them and ushered them off to the kitchen.

Kyle leaned in to hug Isobel before they were pushed towards the kitchen. Alex reached to grab them all beers before turning back to them. He was about to speak when Maria rushed up, looking panicked and muttering something about ice to him. He laughed and shook his head before moving off to help her, his hand brushing across Kyle's chest as he passed.

“Should we make the rounds?” Kyle asked. He motioned around the place at the other guests.

“If we must.” Michael sighed, but he grinned as Kyle stepped out of the kitchen to go say his hellos. Michael followed at a sedate pace, making his way around the room slowly.

Alex could feel his excitement buzzing through him as he thought about the rest of the night but Maria kept him busy, trying to make sure everything was perfect. Any time he passed by Michael or Kyle he would grin at them, touch or kiss them if he could and after a bit he paused at Kyle, leaning up to whisper in his ear, "I'm going to go crazy before we get home," he laughed, leaning into Kyle's body.

Michael was trying to enjoy himself. He spent some time with Max and Liz hearing about Arty. He chatted with Isobel about the plumbing trouble they’d had. Jenna kept him busy with a game of guess what’s in the packages. But he kept seeing Alex and Kyle fawning over one another and giggling and frankly he was beginning to feel left out. It wasn’t something he was used to and it didn’t feel great.

Every time Alex was around Michael tonight, he almost spilled the secret so he had been avoiding spending more than a few minutes with him at any given time. He didn't like being this close to Michael without touching him and he knew Kyle felt the same, so he continued to gravitate towards his husband as the evening progressed.

It really became apparent that they were purposefully leaving him out when Alex started dodging him. At first he just tried to casually follow Alex, but Alex slipped away. Off to see Kyle. And kiss Kyle and hang off Kyle’s neck. All the while leaving Michael out in the cold. Michael spent a good thirty minutes and three beers trying to tell himself that wasn’t what was happening, not after everything they’d shared, but it seemed it really was. It made him feel like shit. And also like just maybe he wanted them to feel like shit too.

Alex could see Michael trying to approach him and he hated having to avoid him, he had just finished helping Maria put out more snacks when he saw Michael open another beer and he moved towards Kyle, "okay I hate this," he said, "maybe we should just tell him?" He bit his lip and glanced at Michael.

“We can’t tell him here. We won’t be here that much longer anyway. Then we can tell him as soon as we get back to the cabin.” Kyle said. He felt sure they could hold off just a little longer. Kyle bent to kiss Alex’s cheek.

Michael watched this exchange from across the room. Admittedly things were getting a bit fuzzy around the edges and it was probably time to cut himself off. He went into the kitchen to find a bottle of water, and when he pulled himself out of the fridge there was a guy standing opposite leaning against the counter. “I don’t know hardly anyone here, but I recognized you from the Wild Pony. I’m the new bouncer, Jaxon. What’s your name?” He asked.

“Michael.” Michael told him. Jaxon held out his hand and Michael shook it. Jaxon pushes off the counter and came closer. “I’ve been watching you.” He admitted. “Oh?” Michael swallowed. Was Jaxon flirting?

"Yeah, you look lonely," he smirked and let his eyes obviously move over Michael, "and I'm into the whole cowboy look," he shrugged and sipped his beer.

Alex knew Kyle was right, they should wait until they were home to talk with Michael, he smiled at the kiss on his cheek and his eyes searched the crowd, finding Michael and frowning slightly.

Michael shrugged. “I’m okay.” He said, swallowing. Jaxon was a tall, good looking guy with a too tight t-shirt and a smirk that could almost be considered filthy. Michael knew he shouldn’t keep talking to him, but then he remembered he was angry at Alex and Kyle.

Jaxon put his hand on Michael’s arm and leaned closer. “We could get out of here if you wanted to.” He reached up and tugged at the curl that had fallen over Michael’s forehead. And for a moment Michael though he might be trying to lean in and kiss him.

His eyes narrowed as Alex turned to look at Kyle, nodding towards the kitchen where some attractive stranger was way too close to Michael.

Kyle frowned, Michael didn't seem that bothered by the man's closeness and he felt a rush of jealousy overtake him, "maybe we need to go home," he said, his irritation evident.

Alex nodded quickly, "I'm going to go find Maria and Izzy and tell them goodbye. Will you?" He gestured towards Michael.

Kyle smirked, "yeah if you go in there it's not gonna be pretty." He said, turning towards the kitchen.

“I better not.” Michael stammered. Jaxon just grinned even wider. “Come on, cowboy. Why not, what’s stopping you?” He asked as he stepped into Michael’s space.

“I am.” Kyle said calmly as he stepped into the kitchen. “Kindly back off my boyfriend.” Jaxon looked as surprised by this as Michael was.

“Sorry man, I didn’t know.” He left quickly leaving Michael blinking at Kyle.

“Time to go, Michael.” Kyle told him. “Alright.” Michael agreed. He was confused by the sudden display but he didn’t want to say anything at the party. So he followed Kyle outside.

Alex hugged Maria and Isobel, telling them that his leg was hurting and the three of them were going to head out and he made his way out of house, stopping next to Kyle's car. Maria had picked him up that morning so he could ride home with him. He crossed his arms as Michael and Kyle came out the door, narrowing his eyes at Michael.

Kyle stayed quiet until they got outside, turning when he reached Alex and looked at Michael with a raised eyebrow.

“What? Nothing happened.” He huffed, crossing his arms. Nothing had happened unlike Alex and Kyle who had swanned around the party like they were the only people present. Assholes. “You mean nothing happened yet.” Kyle pointed out. “I interrupted before he could kiss you.”

With a frown Alex glanced between them, "he was going to kiss you?" He asked Michael, "and he was all up in your space and you didn't seem to mind," he sighed, shaking his head, "what is going on Michael?" He asked, his confusion obvious.

Michael shook his head and threw his hands up. “I could ask you the same thing!” He was frustrated and didn’t like the way Alex implied he was the one doing something wrong.

Kyle looked at them, glancing at the door, "what do you mean?" He asked Michael.

Alex frowned, almost pouting, "all I have done today was help Maria." He huffed, leaning against the car, his leg was really starting to ache.

“Maybe we should take this back to the cabin.” Michael said, frustrated. He didn’t want anyone to overhear him admitting to being jealous. It was stupid anyway. They’d been together for years, it made sense that they were closer with each other.

"Yeah," Kyle nodded, looking at the way Alex leaned against the car, "okay, we will meet you there?" Kyle glanced at Michael.

Alex sighed and nodded, "alright," walking towards the passenger side of the car, he suddenly felt tired but maybe the ride would give him time to gather his thoughts.

Michael wanted to kick himself. Or at least crawl in a hole somewhere. “I don’t think I can drive.” He admitted. He’d not got as wasted as he had at Isobel and Maria’s wedding but he was close.

Alex couldn't help but smile softly, and glance at Kyle before motioning to the car, "come on, ride with us and we can come get your truck later." Alex climbed in as Kyle walked to the driver's door.

Resigned, Michael hurried to grab his bag out of the truck then climbed into the backseat and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. His head already hurt and he felt stupid for feeling jealous and worse because he was going to say it out loud when they got to the cabin. Then he’d be trapped there without his truck. He’d have to sleep on the couch.

The car ride was quiet on the way to the cabin. Alex leaned against the window, his hand massaging his leg above the prosthetic. He couldn't figure out what was going on with Michael, things had been so good and suddenly he seemed upset.

When they got to the cabin Michael found he was still just as upset as before, maybe more so since it had been implied that he had done something wrong. He followed them into the cabin then stood in the living room waiting for someone else to speak first. Maybe that was petty. Maybe he didn’t care.

Alex moved into the cabin, glancing at the other two before going to the bedroom for a moment to take off the prosthetic and grab his crutch.

Meanwhile, Kyle turned to look at Michael, "okay, so what is going on?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, "I know something is not right so let's talk."

Michael took another moment to just be angry and hurt before he spoke up. “You and Alex were all over each other tonight! And when I tried to go to Alex he avoided me. You both made it pretty clear that when it comes to social functions it’s just the two of you again!” Michael couldn’t keep looking at Kyle. He sounded so small and stupid, he hated himself.

Once he was on his crutch, Alex came back out of the bedroom, "really? That's what you thought?" He asked quietly, frowning as he moved towards the couch.

Kyle laughed wryly and shook his head, "Michael," he said, trying to push away the slight irritation as he realized what Michael was thinking, "that is not what was happening."

Michael stared at the both of them. They sounded genuine, but he knew what he’d seen. “Then what was happening, because it looked like you couldn’t get enough of each other.” It hurt to say, and Michael had to look away.

Alex snorted, "seriously? So because we were spending time together, you thought it seemed like a good idea to go hook up with someone else?!" He ran a hand through his hair and sat down on the couch.

Kyle raised an eyebrow but decided to let Alex take this for now so he just crossed his arms and watched quietly.

“I wasn’t going to hook up with anyone! And so what, it’s okay for you to ice me out but let the tables turn just a tiny bit and you’re mad!” Michael’s voice was raised. He didn’t want to be doing this, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

"Well you certainly didn't seem to be stopping him!" Alex snapped back, glaring at Michael, "and we weren't freezing you out, maybe next time you should have a conversation with us before you go off and pout to some stranger!" Alex could feel himself getting upset and he knew that he should take a few deep breaths but he didn't care, seeing Michael with the new guy had made his chest ache.

“I wasn’t pouting at him! I was gonna stop him, but then Kyle came in and did for me!” Kyle had used the word boyfriend and that made his heart ache. Michael ran his hands through his hair. He needed to calm down, but all the hurt was just bubbling over. “Tell me, then. What happened tonight? If it’s not what I thought, then what was it?”

Kyle could see that they were both upset so finally he stepped, "okay guys, to your corners," he chuckled. He gave Alex a pointed look before turning to give Michael a calming smile, "Alex?" He asked, hoping that the other male would join him in the explanation considering how excited he had been.

Alex sighed, "I was avoiding you because I am shit at keeping secrets," he huffed, "we had something we wanted to ask you and I was excited and couldn't be around you much without spilling it."

Whatever Michael had been expecting, this was not it. He looked at Kyle who just gave him a small smile and a nod. Michael wiped a hand over his face and sighed. “I’m a total asshole.” He said softly. Kyle laughed a small but fond laugh. He was sorry the night had gone south but he wasn’t sorry about their surprise. “Do I still get to hear the question or have I ruined it?” Michael asked.

Alex couldn't help but snort again, looking at Michael before pushing himself up off the couch and moving towards him, "yeah you can definitely be an ass sometimes," he said with a small smile, "but that's just one of the perks I guess." He glanced back at Kyle, making sure his husband was still on board and Kyle nodded, still smiling. Alex stepped a bit closer to Michael, "we wanted to know if you want to move in here with us?" He asked, with a slight blush covering his cheeks.

For one second Michael thought he was hearing things, but the look on Alex’s and Kyle’s faces said he wasn’t. “You’re serious? You— you want that?” He looked from Alex to Kyle and back. Michael’s heart felt like it might burst. No one had ever wanted him like that.

The pure surprise on Michael's face made Alex sad for a moment but he stepped closer, entering Michael's space followed quickly by Kyle, "yes," he said quietly.

Kyle nodded, "We do, we want you here with us, day and night," he touched Michael's hand.

"Good and bad," Alex said taking his other hand, "even when you're being an ass," he laughed.

The rush of emotions Michael felt was completely overwhelming and he didn't quite know what to do with them. He squeezed their hands just to have something to hold on to, but when his vision went blurry with unshed tears he gave up on trying to be strong. He didn't have to think about his answer. "Yes." He said, nodding at them. "Hell yes!" He laughed at his own foolishness and because he just felt so suddenly light, like he was barely tethered to the ground.

Alex watched the emotions that crossed Michael's face, waiting for him to fully acknowledge them and when he saw the slight tears he couldn't help but smile at him. When Michael finally answered, Alex beamed at him, carefully moving to wrap his free arm around Michael's neck while still leaning on his crutch.

Michael let go of their hands so he could pull them both close. He leaned his head over against Alex's and just enjoyed the closeness for a moment. "I'm so sorry." He said eventually. Then he remembered that he was keeping Alex up. "Take me to bed?" He asked softly, looking at both of them. He felt so much for them that he thought his heart might bust out of his chest.

Kyle shook his head, "it's okay," he replied, "we are all still learning how all of this works, we are allowed to make mistakes as long as we all talk it out afterwards."

#mylex #mylex fic #mylex fics #roswell new mexico fic #eris writes fics #the reason is you fic

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